Pop 'stache

I Am Very Far, the title of the new Okkervil River album is quite appropriate. Will Sheff is indeed very far from his former self on this 11-track set. The visceral, folky force that made Black Sheep Boy sounds like it wants to be an arena band on I Am Very Far. Perhaps this shift has been natural, perhaps it’s due to the membership changes over the years, but what is certain is that this version of Okkervil River is their biggest leap in sound yet.

When the term “indie arena rock” band gets thrown around, one name comes to mind: Arcade Fire. It’s no surprise, then, that I Am Very Far contains hints of their components. Nuances in the arrangements stand out, for instance the tremolo picked guitar lines, the string interjections and even the drum beat and feel created in “Your Past Life as a Blast” can be traced directly to the Canadian monolith.

But unlike the works of Arcade Fire, and even Okkervil River themselves on records past, I Am Very Far lacks a conceptual unity.

This is their first record where the songs aren’t interconnected in some way. This allows Sheff a wider set of topics for the lyrics, which are strong as usual, but the songs do at times feel disjointed.

While there are some cool moments like the string swooping in opener “The Valley,” most of the arrangements fall flat. Sometimes layers are added for what seems like no other purpose than extra sound. Strings pop in with a few arpeggios on “Rider” which really don’t do anything for the song. Notes on the glockenspiel are hammered away as the song builds which are too buried in the mix to serve a purpose, but bringing them up would only reveal excessive use, often mirroring another instrument.

Sheff used to belt out guttural notes like he was having a meltdown in the studio. On this record, Sheff sounds composed, too composed even. The moments where they build intensity never really reach an emotional culmination. However, Sheff’s mellow side has also been a strong point and this is where the songs still excel. The best moments are where he restrains the arrangements and croons. “Mermaid” is a gorgeous track with perfectly minimal piano and guitars and horns that peer through open space in the chorus complementing the melody. The track slowly builds, but it’s more of a tease this time around – the music drops back down for another verse to close – and it works. Closer “The Rise” shares similar qualities, with gorgeous woodwinds and a powerful coda that slowly falls apart.

Still, these tracks aren’t nearly as affecting as the brutally emotional lows on Black Sheep Boy and there are no solid singles like “Lost Coastlines” on their previous effort, The Stand Ins. It just sits somewhere in the middle and fails to have much of an effect on the listener. Sheff can be commended for taking the band’s sound to new places, but in this case I Am Very Far is far from being a success.

Okkervil River – I Am Very Far Tracklist:

1. “The Valley”
2. “Piratess”
3. “Rider”
4. “Lay Of The Last Survivor”
5. “White Shadow Waltz”
6. “We Need A Myth”
7. “Hanging From A Hit”
8. “Show Yourself”
9. “Your Past Life As A Blast”
10. “Wake And Be Fine”
11. “The Rise”

I’m From Barcelona is a confusing band name with the 29-member group actually hailing from Sweden. They formed in 2005 under the lead of singer, Emanuel Lundgren, for a homemade EP and one-time performance. Sing!! gained so much buzz that they were signed to EMI Sweden.

The band is known for their pop songs that were so sweet you could taste sugar. The group took a break from their typical cheery pop format for their album 27 Songs From Barcelona in 2010, in which each member of the band recorded a solo song. At last, I’m From Barcelona has made their return to the indie pop world with Forever Today.

Forever Today is firmly footed in pop, which leaves it feeling mediocre. While I’m From Barcelona has the potential to be a standout album, there weren’t enough risks taken with the music. Nonetheless, Forever Today can be a fun summer album while spending your final moments with hometown friends before you go wherever you’ll call home.

I’m From Barcelona may be recognized for their infectious pop yet, but Forever Today excels with the gentler, breezy songs. Tracks like “Always Spring” boast uncomplicated rhythm, oozing pianos and luxurious brass. The lyrics are equally straightforward, discussing things desired: “Somewhere it’s always spring.”

“Skipping a Beat” is another placid song with a dizzying melody and an airy piano. Closer and title track, “Forever Today” starts with robust horns, which lend the song an air of colossal strength. Lyrically it feels like a song of parting somewhere comfortable: “We’re gonna miss this place/We’re gonna miss this place.” It’s a strong close to the album and is sure to make many graduation/leaving home playlists with lines like “Do what you do and do it all the way/Go where you go, it’s gonna be okay.”

While Forever Today shows off its high points through syrupy pop, the album falls short where it should shine.

The upbeat infectious pop songs have gone missing and are replaced by monotonous synthesizers, handclaps and chanted choruses. The opener “Charlie Parker” is a perfect example of this with vocals that leave room for potential and a chorus that is absolutely tiresome. The song’s lyrics are dull and leaver the listener without meaning, “When the sky is a little too filled up with rain/You can get on your little wings and fly away.”

“Charlie Parker” isn’t the only song like this, there are a whole slew of them. “Get in Line” features more handclaps and “Battleships” has rallying backing voices repeating “bah bah bah.”

What’s disappointing is with 29 band members, Forever Today could have been a great pop album. It feels like it’s missing a spark or some passion. There’s nothing complex about the lyrics and some of the instruments are too jarring to be used so frequently. I’m From Barcelona may have returned to their pop format but they tried a little to hard to do so.

I’m From Barcelona – Forever Today Tracklist:

1. “Charlie Parker”
2. “Get In Line”
3. “Battleships”
4. “Always Spring”
5. “Can See Miles”
6. “Come On”
7. “Skipping A Beat”
8. “Dr. Landy”
9. “Game Is On”
10. “Forever Today”

The story is classic. A small town kid grows up with music as his only escape from the drudgery of rural life. His guitar is his best friend. He may not have fit in back home because he didn’t play football, but he had the entire discography (all vinyl of course) of every important classic rock band and was taking thorough notes. He grows up, transplants himself into the big city, takes even more notes on the fast-paced lifestyle and finally mixes his findings into songs.

Such is the case with Justin Rueger and his move from a tiny town in Kansas to the Big Apple. He quickly found fellow Midwestern misfit musicians and bound by their mutual displacement, they formed Country Mice. The band has survived Brooklyn long enough to release two 7-inches, shorten its name (formerly “We Are Country Mice”) and now managed to release its debut album. Twister is a hopeful forecast for the future and a nostalgic glimpse of the band’s roots. It leaves them poised somewhere between two lifestyles. But as many bands with similar histories have done before, Country Mice uses this to its advantage, learning from the past rather than completely separating from it.

Yes, the story has been told before. But Justin Rueger, you spin this one so well.

Twister is spent stabilizing an almost apocalyptic tone with country sensibilities. Although Country Mice often tips the balance between the two genres, it sounds most natural when it rests on the thin middle ground.

“Clover” is the clearest example, maintaining a country wail but allowing the guitars to lapse into an all-out rock fury before reverting back again. “Bullet of a Gun” walks the same kind of line, never committing to one side. Country Mice seems to hit its stride with tracks like these, but it doesn’t last long. The band is still obviously looking for a solid foothold and still does some impressive exploration along the way.

“Morning Son” is a delightful tribute to Mice’s origins, reveling in rambling guitar lines and an obvious country motif. It is easy to cross the line into theatrics, though, as with the “Rawhide”-type tribute “Close Behind.” On the other end of Country Mice’s little-bit-country-little-bit-rock-‘n’-roll make up, opener “Ghost” puts a bold foot forward into a dark, brooding rock category. Country Mice can easily fit this bill but again takes one step too far with the droning and unmemorable “Rabbit on a Leash.” Despite an obvious division of influences, there is never a time—save the instrumental closing track—where Twister’s parts feel too disconnected. Strung together by sincerity, Country Mice is still trying to find its sweet spot, but it can hardly be blamed for the search in between.

Country Mice – Twister Tracklist:

1. “Ghost”
2. “Festival”
3. “Morning Son”
4. “Rabbit On A Leash”
5. “Close Behind”
6. “Clover”
7. “Worn Hearts”
8. “Bullet Of A Gun”
9. “Shasta”
10. “Bigger Better Leaves”

It’s not common for a band to produce a full-length release as a complete set that’s legitimately well rounded. With the latest production from The Wombats, The Wombats Proudly Present… This Modern Glitch, we see an entirely fulfilled set of music that brings together many elements of polished technicality.

The record is a 10-track trail through the lyrically charming ways of three musicians from Liverpool, England. It rides along many instances of brilliant combinations of words and melodies as it showcases a way of telling stories and deconstructing situations that listeners can easily relate to.

The most primal example of these lyrics comes in the third single, “Anti-D,” before the middle of the set. It’s a cute analogy for a sweet couple acting as each other’s therapy, singing “Please allow me/To be your antidepressant/I too, I am prescribed as freely/As any decongestant.” With a lovely implementation of strings along the background of the track, this could certainly act as a sweet little clutch for young people in love. Its words are so simple but beyond most expectations of any music produced along today’s guidelines. But then again, it’s British work, not American. No wonder it’s so out-of-the-ordinary. It’s the work of those ever-so-witty foreigners.

Another example of work that surpasses musical boundaries of today’s chart scene is in the opening track “Our Perfect Disease.” Again there is a connection between the lyrics and a relationship through metaphor: “It was the perfect disease we had/Something to argue and scream about/And you will see about contracting back/And locking it somewhere it can’t get ripped out … We all need someone to drive us mad.”

A few other highlights include the nostalgic tracks “1996” and “Girls/Fast Cars” before the album is finished. They both hint at decades past in glory. The chorus of “Girls/Fast Cars” almost throws the listener back to the nearly 10-year-old “Girls & Boys” circa Good Charlotte’s golden years. Maybe the premise is just a coincidence, but either way, it was smart of them to tap into a bit of historical pride.

Each song plays out as some sort of anthem. If it were amplified in volume in front of thousands of people, the words will have even more significance as the people potentially join together and shout the words in unity. It can also easily be seen as a good record to take on the road.

This Modern Glitch has already performed incredibly well at the heights of British charts. It’s no doubt that the very words of the Wombats will provide a good time for British fans to sing out their hearts together.

The greatest success of the record is its ability to stay consistent and strong from beginning to end. Not only that, the sound is so current it’s no wonder it’s become so successful. It sounds a lot like Two Door Cinema Club, a healthy comparison. The quick beats produced here by The Wombats, accompanied by innovative guitar riffs, allow for the band to express their emotions thoughtfully and with cleverness. The electronic tunes provide electricity that help carry the record through to a steady place of greatness.

The Wombats – The Wombats Proudly Present… This Modern Glitch Tracklist:

1. “Our Perfect Disease”
2. “Tokyo (Vampires & Wolves)”
3. “Jump Into The Fog”
4. “Anti-D”
5. “Last Night I Dreamt…”
6. “Techno Fan”
7. “1996”
8. “Walking Disasters”
9. “Girls/Fast Cars”
10. “Schumacher The Champagne”

It’s hard to think of a more appropriate name than Air Museum for a band like Mountains. Not to be confused with the ’70s rock band Mountain—“Mississippi Queen” being the group’s biggest hit—Mountains’ approach is significantly more delicate.

Brendon Anderegg and Koen Holtkamp have been creating folk-infused electronic music since 2005 Self-Titled, and each new release sees the duo pushing itself in new directions. Mountains’ 2009 album Choral saw Anderegg and Holtkamp garner attention for making their most streamlined album up to that point. The Brian Eno comparisons began rolling in—and rightfully so—but Choral was anything but an homage. The album displayed Anderegg and Holtkamp had the ability to take field music, electronics and acoustic instruments to create a sound that was quite progressive, considering the limitations of ambient music.

Air Museum is proof positive that Mountains has no interest in stagnating, yet this does not mean it is necessarily a step forward.

For the first time Anderegg and Holtkamp recorded the acoustic instruments to analog instead digital, which sounds like a sonic improvement. Unfortunately, these instruments are coated in effects that mask the natural warmth the analog recording could have given them.

Despite the fact Mountains took a new approach to the recording of the instruments, Air Museum is possibly the most electronic focused album in the band’s catalog. “Sequel” starts with pulsating electronics, utilizing the acoustic instruments as subtle accents. It pays off, showing that Anderegg and Holtkamp can adeptly integrate both natural and processed elements without it feeling misplaced.

“Newsprint” uses a field recording that gives the track a washed-out feel. The elements that Mountains’ add to the piece are small and display the control that the duo has over the movements it creates.

Anderegg and Holtkamp have a history of recording their albums in real-time and using very minor edits afterward. It is an interesting technique, but it possibly contributes to certain songs feeling rushed. The end of Air Museum’s opening track “January 17” begins heading a new direction and ends before the avenue can be explored. Several other tracks end with fade-outs, making it seem as if the duo was unsure of how to end their compositions.

Consequently, there is little cohesion to Air Museum. Instead of creating an album with distinct flow, Air Museum seems more like a compilation of tracks than one stand-alone unit.

Mountains have proven over the course of its full-length albums that it doesn’t enjoy staying in one place for long. Each new record brings in new sonic elements and refuses to rehash past successes. However, Air Museum’s execution does not meet its ambition. It feels as if Anderegg and Holtkamp are on the cusp of greatness, but they need to fully commit to make it there.

Mountains – Air Museum Tracklist:

1. “January 17”
2. “Thousand Square”
3. “Newsprint”
4. “Sequel”
5. “Blue Lanterns on East Oxford”
6. “Backwards Crossover”
7. “Live at the Triple Door”

As one of the foremost math rock groups, Battles has the ability to blow your fucking mind over and over again in live concert or on a lonely late night train ride, which is evident on Battles’ second studio release, Gloss Drop. The album from Warp Records sounds like a colliding carnival, California surf guitar, sprinkled with a little European pop and differs in many ways from Mirrored, where listeners struggled to differentiate between song ending and beginnings, even if losing themselves in the music was a listening experience most could get behind.

After losing vocalist, guitarist, and sound effect aficionado Tyondai Braxton to his solo career, some were worried Battles lost a certain flavor. It’s hard to say for certain what the band lost or gained with his departure but Battles’ first single, “Ice Cream,” sans Braxton is exciting and provides a weird tropical sound listeners haven’t heard before. Most of the lyrics are indecipherable, but no matter, it’s the sound and repetition of voice layered on other crazy shit going on that makes it pop.

Battles is a complex organization of bits and pieces of sounds that defy logic and still sound amazing together, due mostly to part genius and part good timing. “Africacastle” leads Gloss Drop with the classic eclecticism Battles has delivered since day one on EP B. It’s a sort of dancy, sort of funky, sort of organized disorder and experiment in its most organic sense with a lurking sense of terror provided by the consistent sounds of clinking metal.

What makes this amalgamation work most of the time is the variation in each song, usually pushing five to six minutes; listeners never lose interest because Battles won’t let them, as each of the members is usually playing more than one instrument at a time.

Newly performing and recording as a three-piece including guitarist/keyboardist Ian Williams, drummer John Stanier and bassist/guitarist Dave Konopka, it somehow sounds like there was a full stage behind all that uproar.

Layering multiple rhythms, plucky keyboard, plodding bass, two guitars, an eight-foot crash, sleigh bells, hand clapping, sampled steel drum, cowbell (yes, it’s true) and several guest vocalists can be exhausting, yet surprisingly accessible.

Listeners hear this on Gloss Drop as the longer tracks are broken up by short 2-3 minute interludes that kick back to early Battles. Williams slams the keyboard, sometimes while playing guitar at the same time, punctuating by a blitz of other sounds, followed by playfulness, followed by pulsating bass and frantic drums with enough intensity to cause shivers.

Battles is broaching new territory with Gloss Drop, which has a more varied and experimental sound than the EPs or Mirrored. It’s a good followup to the band’s debut, pushing the music into uncharted directions regarding vocals and using more eclectic keyboard and a wider percussive palate. As Battles becomes easier to listen to with more playful, digestible tunes and less hard-edged, calculated songs, it’s still brash and exciting.

Battles – Gloss Drop Tracklist:

1. “Africastle”
2. “Ice Cream (feat. Matias Aguayo)”
3. “Futura”
4. “Inchworm”
5. “Wall Street”
6. “My Machines (feat. Gary Numan)”
7. “Dominican Fade”
8. “Sweetie and Shag (feat. Kazu Makino)”
9. “Toddler”
10. “Rolls Bayce”
11. “White Electric”
12. “Sundome (feat. Yamantaka Eye)”

Listening to All At Once, The Airborne Toxic Event’s second album, sounds like all the shitty situations songwriter Mikel Jollett has suffered has finally killed his optimism. The band is still competent in their ability to play music, but the songs lack the rumbustious spirit and down trodden punk voice that made tracks like “Missy” fun.

The California band’s self-titled debut featured hooky guitar rock bathed in playful pathos. Some critics called it derivative of larger bands like The Killers, but The Airborne Toxic Event managed to differentiate themselves by making their songs as catchy as they were melodramatic. Unfortunately, they may have put stronger emphasis on the drama for their second outing. Think of their single, “Sometime Around Midnight,” but stretch it into a full length album and take out the orchestra.

The opening track, “All At Once,” opens with synth tones, muted guitar picking and low energy lyrics from Jollett. It builds with heavier drums and additional vocal layering, but the additions don’t add up to a satisfying song. It sounds too much like they’re trying to be U2 and mistook arena rock filler for substance.

That’s not to say the album is completely devoid of good songs. “Numb,” “It Doesn’t Mean a Thing,”  “Changing,” and “All I Ever Wanted” are catchy numbers that manage to be frank without killing the album’s momentum. The bouncy guitar melodies and sing along choruses lodge themselves into your ear in a good way.

Topics for songs don’t depart too far from Jollett’s personal relationships, and as the album goes on that proves to be a liability. Too often the listening experience feels like he’s reading his live journal to you in a super serious tone while a soon-to-be ex is dropkicking his heart. In certain songs like “The Graveyard Near the House” it works. The intimate quality of its acoustic guitar, vocal harmonies, and lyrical meditation on love and death is moving. It actually feels genuine and doesn’t sound like it’s overextending itself to connect to the listener.  The majority of the album does.

“Half of Something Else” is packed with sweeping guitars, harmonies and emotive howling from Jollett. Unfortunately, all of that effort doesn’t make lyrics like, “Now I tell you I would die/If it’s what you’d rather see/And I don’t care if it’s clever/I just want you with me,” compelling. Sure, everyone can relate to pining for someone, but there’s no amount of raw emotion that will make that desperation interesting to anyone but the desperate.

All At Once’s ultimate failure is mistaking melodrama and slick production for substance.The band has crafted an album that rarely goes beyond cliché to express an interesting or novel idea.

It seems the band left heart behind when they wrote the album. The fact that they’ve simplified their sound and left out much of the instrumentation only compounds the problem. It’s sad that The Airborne Toxic Event went all in and came out with something lame, but hopefully they’ll learn from their mistakes and bring back the charm on their next release.

The Airborne Toxic Event – All At Once Tracklist:

1. “All at Once”
2. “Numb”
3. “Changing”
4. “All For a Woman”
5. “It Doesn’t Mean a Thing”
6. “The Kids Are Ready to Die”
7. “Welcome to Your Wedding Day”
8. “Half of Something Else”
9. “Strange Girl”
10. “All I Ever Wanted”
11. “The Graveyard Near the House”

Dear Jean,

I hope this letter finds you well. I look forward to our dinner reservations at Dorsia this Friday night; I can’t wait to see what you’ll be wearing. Flowers are so cliché, so I’m writing you with a music recommendation I think you’ll enjoy.

Have you heard of Laki Mera?

Well, if you’re among the deprived millions who have not, let me tell you: they are a great, great band. Included in this letter is a compact disc of their new album, The Proximity Effect. It shares its name with a Nada Surf album, but that’s largely where Laki Mera’s musical comparisons end. On the five-piece group’s sophomore album, there is exactly zero resemblance to traditional ’90s alt-rock; in fact, this is what I fully expect 2012 to sound like: bummed-out post-chillwave with a strong pop inflection, appropriate for an Internet-fueled, increasingly cross-pollinating music world no longer bound by stringent indie politics.

But if there’s one shining characteristic of The Proximity Effect, it’s that it doesn’t feel like a big, bold statement on society and culture. Whether lyrical or melodic, restraint and subtlety are sorely missing from today’s pop music scene, and I propose there’s no better band right now than Laki Mera to fill that void. Commencing with crumpled drums and hissy electronics, it almost hurts to listen to “The Beginning of the End,” in the same way today’s YouTube overload hurts us—only in a more immediate way, and juxtaposed with blasé chilled-out vocals that weave in and out of focus. It sounds like a closing track that got promoted, ending as horrifically as it began. With the 140-character attention spans of 2011, an artist needs to get to the point, and the end is a very good place to start.

The twin bookend tracks are the album’s strongest (“The End of the Beginning” appropriately concludes the album), but the catchy music in between doesn’t so much attempt some sort of people-pleaser indie/mainstream crossover as it deftly straddles the line between accessibility and inscrutability.

The Proximity Effect sounds like something Natalie Portman’s Black Swan dancer would have in her headphones, and the movie comparison isn’t too far-flung: a constant tension pulses throughout the experience to offset the pretty face (or voice) as the star of the show.

If the sweeping, cinematic tracks don’t always recall Black Swan, they occasionally echo the Dust Brothers’ soundtrack for the 1999 cult hit movie Fight Club (as on “Onion Machine”). However, it’s imperative to recognize how Laki Mera has evolved in the three years between albums: Immediately evident in early numbers like “More Than You” and “Fingertips,” the members now write songs instead of churning out merely sufficient background music.

They’ve been compared to Massive Attack and Portishead, and while they aren’t too relaxed to abstain from the usual noir-ish paranoia, I found Portishead’s brand of trip-hop too off-putting, Massive Attack’s too didactic. The streamlined sound is partly the result of singer Laura Donnelly’s vocal talents. She has a crisp, pristine voice that hasn’t changed much in delivery since Laki Mera’s 2008 debut, Clutter, except it has more of a presence. But the sonics surrounding her have thankfully improved: song titles like “No Motion” summed up an album that wallowed in its numb, love-burned state. With its trite lyrics, the more guitar-friendly Clutter was ultimately calming, whereas The Proximity Effect is all about stretching tension into a marathon of discomfort. There’s nothing as pleasurable on The Proximity Effect as the darting cello stabs in Clutter‘s “Zeuhl,” but overall, it’s the more consistently engaging album where Clutter was (befitting its name) spotty and nebulous.

If Laki Mera stays this focused for its next two albums, the group should be a personal favorite in the hearts and minds of music lovers everywhere.

Professionally,

Patrick Bateman

Laki Mera – The Proximity Effect

1. “The Beginning Of The End”
2. “More Than You”
3. “Fingertips”
4. “Double Back”
5. “Onion Machine”
6. “How Dare You”
7. “Crater”
8. “Solstice”
9. “Pollok Park”
10. “Fool”
11. Reverberation
12. The End Of The Beginning

Ah, to be a teenager again. To be carefree and completely withdrawn from an older generation, while pushing the current generation’s boundaries. And to have people follow your every move with a high degree of scrutiny, while you entertain ridiculous ideas, yet are still capable of captivating and holding people’s interest.

Somehow this is the status Tyler, The Creator has on his new record Goblin. Frontman of spotlight rap group Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All, Tyler maintains all of the crew’s sensibilities on his solo release. Put “edgy” in quotes, because being obscene may not necessarily be on the edge of anything.

Take, for example, the album’s first single, “Yonkers.” The video features Tyler in a white room, with “kill” written on his hand, eating bugs and vomiting them up, and culminating in the MC swinging from a noose. He declares “faggot” loudly and often, and talks about rape and murder breezily. This is extreme, but what boundary is it pushing? It seems like senseless vulgarity with no message or purpose, until listeners hear what it’s prefaced with, “I’m a walking fucking paradox/No I’m not.” It gives this nihilism a bit of weight.

Goblin isn’t all about lyrical shock though. It is also aesthetically captivating. The sparse but direct beats punch away beneath what are, take away the content, syllabically complex rhymes. Tyler’s brain must be a maze, pulling such weird sounds together in ways that don’t seem like they could be rhymes or be set by a meter. He is well aware of his ability, made evident in lines such as in, “Tron Cat”: “Drop the beat here to make it extra climactic”—which he succeeds at.

The success continues throughout the album. “Transylvania” is a screwed-down and shuffling, terrifying banger. The songs featuring rising star and Odd Future cohort Frank Ocean, “She” and “Window,” have a soulful, almost radio-ready quality.

So a one trick pony this record is not, as it offers a breadth of delivery that breaks up the sound of the record. Yet, the shallow lyrics are still difficult to ignore.

For example on “Radicals,” with the refrain, “Kill People, Burn Shit, Fuck School.” Sentiments like that can only be screamed by a performer with limited life experiences to cull from. In short, it isn’t as clever as the delivery, begging the question, can he continue to create homophobic (and Tyler has denied it, but the frequency and anger behind the word “faggot” can only be described that way), generally hateful rap songs and expect to last?

Part of his current appeal is his immediacy and youthful rebellion, but his staying power comes from his delivery skill. Goblin is interesting, but once the buzz and intrigue fade, only time can reveal if Tyler’s delivery can outlive the content.

Tyler, The Creator – Goblin Tracklist:

1. “Goblin”
2. “Yonkers”
3. “Radicals”
4. “She”
5. “Transylvania”
6. “Nightmare”
7. “Tron Cat”
8. “Her”
9. “Sandwitches”
10. “Fish / Boppin’ Bitch”
11. “Analog”
12. “Bitch Suck Dick”
13. “Window”
14. “AU79”
15. “Golden”

New England native Merrill Garbus and her project tUnE-yArDs are a totally singular force in music. W H O K I L L, the band’s second album, burns from start to finish. At best, it’s semi-traditional rock instrumentation; there are, to note, guitars, drums and bass but also cut-ups, overdubs and sampling spliced into the songs, many of which flash, bump and grind. The result is miles away from convention.

In concert you can watch her build the melodies layer by layer. It is an era of delay-pedal musicians. From opener “My Country,” the album wastes no time getting down; thunderous jungle drums lay out a knobbly terrain for the songbird; laced with horns, tribal chanting and ecstatic outbursts to boot. It’s a playful song that ends forebodingly enough, “The worst thing about living a lie is wondering when they’ll find out.” More prominently, “Riotriot” sways with African call-response, starting sinister, moving into a triumphant march before retreating to its original vibe.

There’s an air of mystery to the album—listeners may find themselves wondering whether what they’re hearing is studied art rock or just an exuberant wild rumpus. “Powa” for instance, is a lurching tempo head-bopper that wants to sound like classic rock, while “Bizness” is just as, if not more pop sensible, whilst its sounds are from out in the cosmos. It’s a work that effortlessly straddles the two worlds.

tUnE-yArDs has not—unlike many of its contemporaries—moved to Brooklyn. Actually, a lot of W H O K I L L is a veritable laugh at aspects of the pre-gentrification frontier. Clearly, there’s some cheekiness with names like “Killa,” a spoken-word poke at the too-hip-for-school or “Gangsta,” whose chaotic barrio vibe seems like it came from the same world as Beck’s Guero.

It’s a dream catcher of an album—not the dream itself but someone remembering trying to relate it to you. “Wolly Wolly Gong,” is an incredibly tight song—the production uses space and channels well; not everything is in one ear nor is it compressed to needle thin frequency—you can hear Garbus breathing.

Garbus is a total singer with nothing physically or sonorously held back, and when she wails, neck hairs stand.

She must be something of what Odetta was in her day; a soulful, riveting performer who won’t hesitate to use anything if it makes a sound. Her noises are all over the place—and it’s mesmerizing.

Yes, her pipes are impressive, she can go from wet whispering to belting at turns; sometimes she flutters, hitting a pitch with total vocal support. It almost sounds like medieval chamber music, smacking of Art Garfunkel were he to make a record with the guys from STOMP in his bedroom today.

tUnE-yArDs exudes a confidence that most bands don’t muster until late in the game. W H O K I L L is worth a listen if only for the possibility that there might not be anything quite like it, before or again.

tUnE-yArDs – W H O K I L L Tracklist:

1. “My Country”
2. “Es-So”
3. “Gangsta”
4. “Powa”
5. “Riotriot”
6. “Bizness”
7. “Doorstep”
8. “You Yes You”
9. “Wooly Wolly Gong”
10. “Killa”

If there is ever a need for a reliable narrator in a genre of music, it’s folk. Propagated on brutal honesty that spins a tale in place of sweeping dramatic statements, folk can sometimes seem too literal, too spinster oriented for people whose taste only goes to the 3:30 mark. One could argue Joanna Newsom embodies this entire idiom—her record Ys was supposedly based on all real occurrences, yet the mammoth song lengths and knotty verse took too much literary investment to warrant serious pop consideration, despite its excellence.

Similar to Newsom, troubadour Cass McCombs has been dismissed by almost all save the hipster-come-bearded freaky folkies on both coasts for his complexity and impossible-to-decipher perspective. His tone has muted in the past two years, with 2009’s Catacombs earning him a modicum of larger fandom much in the same way Newsom’s mammoth Have One On Me did for her last year. However, the key difference between McCombs and Newsom is the unreliability of McCombs as a traditional folk storyteller—his verses are often knotted mysteries, accessible to only the most attuned listener. In this way his recent effort, Wit’s End, can be mind-alteringly frustrating and closed off. For some, this may become a rewarding experience (not unlike Ys), but for most, Wit’s End will fall under the purview of interesting curiosity in a curiously strong 2011 music year, tossed off at the first mention of an excellent upcoming LP.

But a frequently comic curiosity can Wit’s End be. McCombs closely resembles Edgar Allen Poe (a heavy-handed reference to be sure) in the way he blends the dark, dank corners of the folkie spectrum with a chuckle at sorrow.

The most laugh-inducing (in a good way) track is “Buried Alive,” which is exactly what it says it’s about, only featuring McCombs’ lilting waif voice pondering exactly the specifics of his predicament, including the awful stench his new neighbor is giving off. McCombs also tends toward Poe in his verse structure—on both “A Knock Upon the Door” and lead single“The Lonely Doll,” McCombs employs the surely antiquated technique of refrains, which sometimes help, but most of the time hurt. “The Lonely Doll,” intriguing premise it is when thinking about the unreliability of McCombs’ narrators, falters because it actually quite boring in its baroque darkness. “Door” is simply slightly better, even at a weighty 9:24 because it shifts narratives every verse, but an underlying problem remains. Because we can’t trust McCombs’ lyrics for what they are, the cash Wit’s End frequently trades in isn’t overarching interest or powerful songmanship—it’s more often the frustrating excavation of what exactly each of the overly long eight songs are about.

As if not happy with flipping all tropes on their collective heads, McCombs crafts two songs seemingly about being songs. “Saturday Song” is Proustian in its closed-offedness, and “Pleasant Shadow Song” is a pleasant song about a shadow in some form or fashion. Trite? Absolutely. Occasionally gripping? Yes again, but only for moments. The darkness and gloom on display here aren’t enough to keep McCombs from stumbling along on the heels of his sinewy songs.

The chief regret that can be levied on Wit’s End is that it starts out so promisingly. For a song that sounds dangerously close to the Twin Peaks soundtrack, “County Line” is a slumbery ballad about returning home after so many things have changed, hoping a certain someone’s feelings have blunted in the face of a growing corporate landscape. It’s a snakey tune that actually gets stuck in your head, a feat for any McCombs song, and holds poignancy in the face of its consistent gloom. That’s the sadness of Wit’s End, in its conclusion—there aren’t enough poignant moments here to satisfy folkies, and the curiosity of McCombs’ experiments get old after a few passing listens.

Cass McCombs – Wit’s End Tracklist:

1. “County Line”
2. “The Lonely Doll”
3. “Buried Alive”
4. “Saturday Song”
5. “Memory’s Stain”
6. “Hermit’s Cave”
7. “Pleasant Shadow Song”
8. “A Knock Upon the Door”

Hailing from the Great White North of Canada is Chad Vangaalen, a lo-fi aficionado whose work to date has been brimming with confidence, but somewhat lacking in focus. His latest effort, the cheekily titled Diaper Island, marks something of a turning point for Vangaalen. This one-time busker from the streets of Calgary has finally found something of a niche, setting aside any fashionable distractions in lieu of an endearing emotionalism.

The album’s opening track, “Do Not Fear,” is a surprisingly anthemic tune that finds VanGaalen making use of a surprisingly broad soundscape. Despite the minimalist instrumentation, the song builds a kind of energy seemingly incongruous to the album’s implied aesthetic.

What this reveals about “Diaper Island,” as well as VanGaalen himself, is that it’s better to work with a wide palate. It’s easy for an artist to inadvertently work his or herself into a corner by sticking so closely to an ideal that they limit themselves to mere gimmicks. VanGaalen excels in avoiding pretention and isn’t afraid to step out on a limb. There’s a coy intelligence to “Diaper Island,” an album that’s as listenable as it is eclectic.

From the bedroom power pop ditties like “Sara” and “Burning Photographs” to the bluesy ballads “Peace on the Rise” and “No Panic/No Heat,” to the chunky garage rock of “Replace Me” VanGaalen is able to boast a number of textures while utilizing an aesthetic that generally doesn’t yield such diversity.

His ability to carve out such a deep sound likely stems from his prowess as a producer: having helmed both albums by fellow Canadian lo-fiers Women, Vangaalen proves himself to be something of an authority on this sound.

By shying away from showy conceptualism (see: Dirty Beaches’ ode to pontification, Badlands), VanGaalen proves himself to be far cleverer than his peers. Despite its seemingly simple tonalities, Diaper Island is a subtly intricate listen.

He’s also not afraid to wear his influences on his sleeves. He’s fashioned his Neil Young-like croon to Thurston Moore’s sensibilities, making for an intriguing if not slightly contrived vocal quality that undeniably elevates some of the album’s weaker moments. The slow-churning rocker “Blonde Hash” proves to the finest example of VanGaalen’s bluesy charms merging with his lo-fi receptivity.

Not to be undersold is VanGaalen’s capricious personality. There mere act of naming the album Diaper Island suggests a penchant for sophomoric hijinks, but aside from the album’s closer—the crudely titled “Shave My Pussy”—the record I light on toilet humor. Instead, VanGaalen showcases his playfulness in his music. “Freedom for a Policeman,” one of the album’s strongest songs, is a jumpy number that makes good use of consumer grade sounds like the Casio keyboard weaves its way through.

Ultimately, Diaper Island is just a good listen. There are limited bells and barely any whistles, but there’s something to be said for an album that can play out in a seamless fashion. From start to finish, VanGaalen rarely misses a beat.

Chad VanGaalen – Diaper Island Tracklist:

1. “Do Not Fear”
2. “Peace on the Rise”
3. “Burning Photographs”
4. “Heavy Stones”
5. “Sara”
6. “Replace Me”
7. “Blonde Hash”
8. “Freedom for a Policeman”
9. “Can You Believe It!?”
10. “Wandering Spirits”
11. “No Panic / No Heat”
12. “Shave My Pussy”