Pop 'stache

Bill Callahan is a master lyricist. In his 14 studio albums as Smog, (Smog) and finally as Bill Callahan, he is always plainspoken but never stupid, simple in word selection, yet evocative and multi-layered in meaning. Musically, his instrumentation is never groundbreaking, rather it is usually a very consistent lo-fi alternative country, but his poetic strength and subtle dark humor pull him through all other shortcomings.

Bill knows this: He knows his talent is in his wordplay and in choosing to emphasize that, he makes his newest album, Apocalypse, an engaging listen despite its stylistic similarity to many of his earlier releases.

Callahan’s previous album (and the second to be released under his real name), Sometimes I Wish We Were An Eagle, was lyrically diverse, but the album as a whole was dark and somber. Surprisingly, Apocalypse could be better described as a bittersweet album, one that chooses to linger entirely on the good and the bad in American culture. In this regard, Apocalypse might be seen as a concept album. Callahan focuses on the theme of American decay from the very beginning and holds it to the very end. In the opener, “Drover” Callahan’s deadpan baritone voice delivers the line, “One thing about this wild, wild country, it takes a strong strong, it breaks a strong, strong mind.” The theme of mental anguish and American ennui is a constant, tying force that pulls the album together nicely. It is complemented well by the fact that Callahan’s music is in many ways purely American. His banjos, sweeping flutes and numerous folk influences capture the plains of the American Midwest in a way that no other music really could.

After a sound beginning, the album really picks up steam around the third track, “America!” Though the earlier tracks “Drover” and “Baby’s Breath” are technically sound, both are similar to Callahan’s earlier work. This similarity could become a massive problem, but a new driving force arrives in the form of a front-porch banjo riff and the introduction of a fuzzy, distorted electric guitar which complement the album’s most bitter and ironic song. “Well everyone’s allowed a past they don’t care to mention… America!” jokes Callahan.

Topping off the record is one of the best album closers released this year: “One Fine Morning.” It’s an almost nine-minute track that starts slowly but builds to a very powerful ending that manages to tie the whole album together. Lines are pulled from earlier songs, themes are addressed and conclusions are reached as Callahan pulls all his thoughts together to form one final ultimatum. It’s really well done and easily the highlight of the entire album.

For all the praise heaped onto Apocalypse, there are still a few minor things weighing the record down. Musically, it’s that the introduction of the electric guitar in “America!” and a greater emphasis on piano in later songs are the only things that separate Apocalypse from Sometimes I Wish We Were An Eagle. That is not a great deal of change. If both albums were shuffled together it would be very difficult to discern which track came from which record.

Adding to this problem is the fact that most tracks aren’t as strong as those on Eagle, either. The selection on Apocalypse isn’t bad, but you won’t find anything quite as moving or powerful as “Too Many Birds” on the earlier album. Luckily, Callahan’s style is still mostly fresh and exciting and the songs from Eagle are only a fraction better, so the album survives.

All in all, Apocalypse may sound a lot like Callahan’s earlier albums, but its message, which is poignant and masterfully expressed, make this album worth checking out. It isn’t an extreme reworking of Callahan’s sound, but it still manages to be an important album because of the poetry of Callahan’s lyricism and the strength and longevity of the styles he had already established.

Bill Callahan – Apocalypse Tracklisting:

1. “Drover”
2. “Baby’s Breath”
3. “America!”
4. “Universal Applicant”
5. “Riding for the Feeling”
6. “Free’s”
7. “One Fine Morning”

The members of Architecture in Helsinki must have taken Michael Jackson’s death really hard.

At least that’s one explanation for what happened to them in the four years following their last effort, the freaked-out Places Like This. On that album, singer Cameron Bird restlessly mirrored a coked-up Isaac Brock and spat out lines like “My mom thinks she’s in love with you.” Moment Bends shows Architecture in Helsinki continue to move in a markedly more pop-oriented direction with its music, and the difference is a little more Bee Gees, a little less Belle & Sebastian.

They’ve come a long way, baby; orthodox fans will remember the 2003 debut, Fingers Crossed, merely dipped its twee little toes in electronic frippery.

While nothing on Moment Bends matches the delicate beauty of songs like that album’s “Fumble,” they find just as much prettiness in dance floor electro-grooving as they ever did in hushed acoustic conversations. Almost a decade in, their architecture is no longer a small homey apartment; there are now skyscrapers and museums. And it sounds like a place where today’s household names would rock the rooftops.

With the possible exception of R.E.M., Architecture in Helsinki now has the distinction of being the most accessible band to star in Vincent Moon’s artsy, granular “take-away shows.” That director’s distinctively low-budget music videos capture a band performing live in out-of-context settings like parking lots, station wagons or silos. But this band’s camera time with Moon was a presidential term ago, and Moment Bends is only artsy the way a fashion show is, with a glut of novel starter ideas eventually streamlined into a slick, consumer-ready product. If that praise sounds precarious, it’s because the music is risky, too.

Michael Jackson is as recent as reference points go on Moment Bends. One of the year’s best records so far, Destroyer’s Kaputt, sought to emulate the penthouse rock of late period Roxy Music and a now-cool-again Sade. Moment Bends puts on short shorts and a snug polo before touching even more dangerous ground, covering Wings (“Sleep Talkin'”), ELO (the sugary Jeff Lynne guitar chug in “Everything’s Blue”), and Abba (the 8-track memories scattered throughout Moment Bends‘ other eight tracks). As a tribute to an especially fluffy version of Paul McCartney, “Sleep Talkin'” is the far and away standout track. Lyrical subtlety arm wrestles cocksure swag the way Macca’s been walking that tightrope for generations, and they absolutely nailed it.

Architecture in Helsinki has an uncanny ability for nailing it with their album titles, too, and Moment Bends is no different. Its lyrics touch on the possibilities of perceiving a single instance in time from different angles, using multiple singers as avatars for these perspectives.

Over the bonkers roller disco of “That Beep,” girl-power sidekick Kellie Sutherland sings, “Dressed up as bubblegum/I stuck to your shoe/Let’s run, can you gimme that?” When a metallic-sounding Bird fires back “I’m in denial and you’re no fun/I’m in denial and we are done,” the change from first person to second is the only thing signifying a new song to the casual listener.

The blur between tracks is actually a good thing, and it makes Moment Bends the most cohesive Architecture in Helsinki album since Fingers Crossed. Just as fellow oddballs Dirty Projectors have skyrocketed in consistency, there’s a robust confidence at play here (literally: this is Saturday night stomping ground music) that only came in flashes before. Even the sole misstep “B4 3D” appears smartly tacked on at the end for easy omission.

Despite the band’s still-clumsy name, Moment Bends‘ breezy pop moves should appeal to devotees of easily pronounceable stars Robyn and Lady Gaga. The 10 songs here can’t help but evoke a near-universal leisure activity for anyone with the luxury to put pop music as a priority. After shopping around for different sounds since its inception, Architecture in Helsinki have made big-mall music for serious retail therapists. If you still go for the physical thing, Moment Bends is worthy weight to the shopping bag.

Architechture in Helsinki – Moment Bends

1. “Desert Island”
2. “Escapee”
3. “Contact High”
4. “W.O.W.”
5. “YR Go To”
6. “Sleep Talkin’
7. “I Know Deep Down”
8. “That Beep”
9. “Denial Style”
10. “Everything’s Blue”
11. “B4 3D”

Jamie Woon’s voice and the music under it are a concentrated dose of smooth melancholy. There’s no sweeping solos, hooked melodies or fun-time sing alongs to his debut, Mirrorwriting. It’s just Woon and a dusting of dub-step flavored ambiance. The result is a soulful collection of minimalistic pop songs that are enjoyable to the ear when they are not inducing sleep. Its success is owed to Woon’s subtle range and feeling, which matches the music’s airy, R&B tone well.

His best songs make good use of synth and production effects to create groovy earworms. The opening track, “Night Air” makes full use of production techniques to layer in ghostly echoes of his voice and long tones over a speedy bass beat. Lyrics carry the sensuality one expects from a smooth operator. While “Street” is much closer to the album’s normal formula, it is a good example where the mixes of electronic and pop sensibilities work. The music bed is speedy but moody, and Woon adds different effects to his voice to enhance its sound.

The final product perfectly captures feeling alone in a nightclub surrounded by people looking for a good time.

Woon’s decision to askew celebratory topics of past sexual escapades for the darker side of relationships can rub up against the music in the wrong way. Sound-wise “Spiral” is probably the closest song on Mirrorwriting to boilerplate R&B with its requisite finger snapping, sensual acoustic guitar lick, and sprinkling of smooth jazz. Lyrically, however, it parts from passionate and opts for a more lived-in feeling: “I don’t know if it’s over/The years have made us older/And I can’t imagine life without you/How I built my life around you/We’ve been so long together now, babe.”  Unfortunately the words kill the song’s mood and highlight a major shortfall of the album. While Woon’s skills are apparent he has a tendency to play too much into his soulful side with limp ballads buttressed by stock R&B sounds and a coat of electric paint.

Mirrorwriting is a quality album but will most likely disappoint fans of multiple genres. It straddles a line between dub-step and R&B that previously didn’t exist. At its worst Woon has made derivative pop that’s too smooth for its own good with lyrics that are too mellow and downtrodden too really enjoy. At its best Woon’s minimalistic songs offer great ambiance and synth mixed with heartfelt lyrics fit for bedrooms. The overall product is somewhere between the two, but promising for a debut album. Woon is a talented guy for both his voice and deft song craft and will be fascinating to watch as he evolves his sound.

Jaime Woon – Mirrorwriting Tracklist:

1. “Night Air”
2. “Street”
3. “Lady Luck”
4. “Shoulda”
5. “Middle”
6. “Spirits”
7. “Echoes”
8. “Spiral”
9. “TMRW”
10. “Secondbreath”
11. “Gravity”
12. “Waterfront”

Looking back, the funniest thing about those Hitler-in-Downfall parodies wasn’t the disparate gap between visuals and subtitles—it was how close to home it hit. If you’re reading this, you probably knew someone who flipped shit when they found out about the Pavement reunion long after tickets went on sale (everyone who got Stephen Malkmus’ Record Store Day 7-inch, please leave now).

Despite its sunny title, Cold Cave sounds similarly flustered on its sophomore LP.

Owing heavy debt to dour ’80s post-punk, Cherish the Light Years comes just behind the times, huffing and puffing in the midst of what may or may not be a ’90s revival. Dinosaur Jr. and Pavement are taking their scuzzbucket mantle back, while Yuck and The Pains of Being Pure at Heart do their respective strand of flannel-clad indie and swirling, cerebral alt-pop. Perhaps as compensation, opening track “The Great Pan Is Dead” comes out swinging from behind.

Over a pummeling beat, singer Wesley Eisold hollers “I will come running/Gunning through the years.” Cherish‘s nine songs show an almost violent urgency to be understood and accepted, a yearning shared by any 16-year-old outcast with a pen and a Bauhaus-loving older brother (and equaling Hitler’s demand for indie-cred supremacy in those videos). However, it’s a smoke screen that masks what feels like a formulaic and hollow approach to songwriting.

Eisold, the Trent Reznor of this sordidly mediocre affair, has a voice that rings out with focus-tested anguish. At times he yelps like Eve 6 everydude Max Collins, though he lacks Collins’ underrated gift for tangled wordplay. Other times show him emulating Marilyn Manson’s trapdoor croak, but running on fumes where Manson’s words drip big time sensuality.

If eyeliner could talk, it would say something like Cherish The Light Years’ trite lyrics, which sound like Eisold smashed open a Holden Caulfield piñata of diary scraps.

“Confetti” is the album’s first breather, but there’s still a lot going on musically, from a candy-coated keyboard line to funky bass. That’s not where the shame lies, however; “I feel guilty being alive,” Eisold drones, “when so many beautiful people have died.” The way he delivers the swaggering chorus, “Oh, I’m coming/When you see me, you should run and hide,” sounds comically deadpan by contrast, but there’s nothing funny about the creep-ass following line (“You look so good on the outside”).

In “Pacing Around The Church,” he sings “I’ll take pleasure in bringing your enemies to their knees,” and to call it juvenile high school poetry would give it too much credit; Eisold sounds too detached to make good on his promise, whereas the brooding teen romantic would at least have the courage to blog about his plan. These lyrics are just laughably bad in a way that makes you feel sorry for the guy in who will crack open this album in 2021 and wonder what the hell was I thinking?

A woman’s touch proves to be a relief. On closing track “Villains of the Moon,” where the album gets its title, female vocals break through like light in a wine cellar. Elsewhere, the Joy Division-esque clatter of “Burning Sage” burbles with rare, genuine intensity instead of the empty, whipped-up rage Cherish so often displays. And on “Alchemy and You,” ears will perk up at a perverse blending of synth-pop, new wave and ska—like A Flock of Seagulls wearing checkered shoes and stomping around a bowling alley basement show.

But if Cold Cave experiences any breakthrough success, it won’t be from novel genre-blending. “Catacombs,” with its strummy Manchester guitar sound and probably-not-coincidental rhymes of “haze” and “rain,” is Cherish‘s closest thing to a pop hit. Half a ‘stache immediately disappears for using a term like “wretched loves” to describe his peers, and Cherish‘s icky stalker theme continues with lyrics like “I’m still on the prowl behind you.” But wordy as it may be, one snippet of “Catacombs” hints at another theme: redemption.

“One day you’ll come back for me/That is the only reason why I’m a part of this dreadful scenery.” In one couplet, Eisold perfectly captures the itch of youth where you feel you could fly if your present environment wasn’t holding you back. In Cold Cave’s case, the only thing holding it back is its flustered dictator trying to keep up with the Joneses.

Cold Cave – Cherish The Light Years

1. “The Great Pan Is Dead”
2. “Pacing Around The Church”
3. “Confetti”
4. “Catacombs”
5. “Underworld USA”
6. “Icons of Summer”
7. “Alchemy and You”
8. “Burning Sage”
9. “Villains of the Moon”

“Good people, unfortunately due to circumstances beyond our control, the ‘clean’ version of our new album, The Hot Sauce, Committee Part Two, has leaked. So as a hostile and retaliatory measure with great hubris we are making the full explicit aka filthy dirty nasty version available for streaming on our site. We hope this brings much happiness, hugs, and harmony. Enjoy. Kikoos for life!”

—Thank you, The Management

The Three Stooges of hip-hop have unleashed their bag of tricks on an eager listenership once again, and the b-boy Bard exiles have brought back the funk and the energy that makes so much of their discography such a hoot. When the “clean edit” leaked about a week before its scheduled in-store drop on May 3, they retaliated by streaming the “filthy” edit in its entirety on their website, so everyone with an internet connection can now hear their aspirations to Shakespearean lyricism on such potential classics of post-modern literature as “Crazy Ass Shit,” “Funky Donkey” and “Multilateral Nuclear Disarmament.”

Seriously, though, rumors of their demise were greatly exaggerated, especially given they canceled a number of tour dates and pulled out of Lollapalooza 2009 due to member Adam “MCA” Yauch’s cancer treatments, for this is their strongest and most straightforward outing since their love letter to New York, To The 5 Boroughs. It’s hard to believe their last proper hip-hop full-length came out almost seven years ago, but a few smatterings from this collection and other one-offs, including their Grammy-winning instrumental record, 2007’s The Mix-Up have satiated the palates of hardcore fans, at least to a certain extent.

These three white kids who came of age merging punk and hip-hop at small liberal arts college, Bard, have returned full circle to defend the fight for their right to party.

As they espouse on the cut that kicks off this collection, “Make Some Noise”:  “Party on the left, party on the right/Party for the motherfuckin’ right to fight,” a welcome philosophical statement, given that the instrumental introduction sounds a bit like the theme to ’70s generation gap sitcom “Sanford & Son.”  The Boys are offering a Passion Pit remix of the cut with a pre-order of the album. The beats here even echo “Brass Monkey” from their 1986 debut Licensed to Ill and “Shadrach” from its initially under-appreciated follow-up Paul’s Boutique. The second cut, “Nonstop Disco Powerpack,” begins with a traditional James Brown rhythmic trope but quickly moves into a discussion of how each of member is feeling, a fairly standard cliche in the hip-hop world, but an act that takes on a newly meaningful resonance, given MCA’s recent health issues notwithstanding, is that it’s the funkiest, most engaging cut here—”This is the way we run it down/B-boys in the house ’til the break of dawn,” and God forbid it should be any other way.

After a booming post-witch-house glitch pop intro, a powerful guest spot from Nas adds a valuable fourth musketeer on “Too Many Rappers [New Reactionaries Version]” and gives currency to their charge of “too many rappers, not enough MCs.” “Oh my God just look at me/Grandpa been rappin’ since ’83,” MCA shouts on the cut in his characteristic rap.

They hearken to their punk rock roots on “Lee Majors Come Again” and unleash some “Crazy Ass Shit” that includes a little girl reciting the words to “Brass Monkey.” Although “The Lisa Lisa/Full Force Routine” and “The Bill Harper Collection” aren’t much more than throw-away jokes, the solid tracks throughout make that an easy mis-step to forgive.  After all just because a joke is a throw-away, that doesn’t mean it’s not funny.

Never mind what happened to Hot Sauce Committee Part One, Part Two is some dope shit throughout. Good luck trying to go to sleep after cranking this one up and spinning it a few times. The Beastie Boys aren’t dead. Long live the Beastie Boys.

Beastie Boys – Hot Sauce Committee Part Two Tracklist:

1. “Make Some Noise”
2. “Nonstop Disco Powerpack”
3. “OK”
4. “Too Many Rappers [New Reactionaries Version]”
5. “Say It”
6. “The Bil Harper Collection”
7. “Don’t Play No Game That I Can’t Win”
8. “Long Burn the Fire”
9. “Funky Donkey”
10. “The Larry Routine”
11. “Tadlock’s Glasses”
12. “Lee Majors Come Again”
13. “Multilateral Nuclear Disarmament”
14. “Here’s a Little Something for Ya”
15. “Crazy Ass Shit”
16. “The Lisa Lisa/Full Force Routine”

There are myriad things that are annoying about emo prog rock band dredg. The second half of that last sentence, for starters, but their incessantly whiny lyrical quality and pseudo-experimental noodling make them one of the most laborious bands in pop today.

Refusing to settle, the band has turned the exasperation to 11 with their ludicrously titled album Chuckles and Mr. Squeezy, a woefully inauthentic foray into the world of techno beats and strained synthesizers.

And before you think this is a joke—it’s not. Their album is seriously called Chuckles and Mr. Squeezy. Seriously.

Hip-hop producer Dan the Automator helmed the album, and his touch can be seen in a number of odd places. There was a time when he was considered to be one of rap’s most avant-garde beat-makers, penning tracks for acts like Gorillaz as well as his own collaborations with DJ Shadow and fellow producer Prince Paul.

But any prowess he showed in his early career doesn’t find its way onto Chuckles and Mr. Squeezy. The album’s opening track, “Another Tribe,” boasts a beat that might have fit on an early Wu-Tang Clan record if it wasn’t so inorganically put together.

How he ended up here is anyone’s guess, but the once-revered Automator lends a helping hand in constructing an album that is easily one of the worst releases this year.

The album’s best track, “The Ornament,” boasts an airy and listless soundscape that somehow manages not to buckle under the weight of vocalist Gavin Hayes’ distended emotional wails. To their credit, dredg manages to sustain a marginally listenable quality for at least four minutes.

Any momentum is lost, however, when the album transitions to “The Thought of Losing You,” a ode to ’90s radio rock that features more of Hayes’ ridiculous ramblings: “After all this pain, the pain’s no more/After all the pain, the pain endures.” Logic holds no sway in the world of dredg.

Hayes may be the most laughable piece of the puzzle. As a lyricist, he’s always had a penchant for oxymoronic adages that sound cool on paper but don’t mean anything in real life (like on the band’s 2005 album, in which he wonders what it would be like to play catch without arms). As a vocalist, he simply refuses to let the music outshine him. There are plenty of moments on Chuckles and Mr Squeezy that would have benefitted from simply having him shut the hell up, like the surprisingly dancy track “Down Without a Fight.” His pompous crooning ruins a track that could have been at least mildly listenable.

Like “The Thought of Losing You,” a number of tracks often require repeat listens—and not because they’re enjoyable. The manufactured melodicism and lazy pop sensibility employed by the band are beyond phony. They transcend cheesy. This is a Smash Mouth b-sides album. A song like “Where I’ll End Up” sounds like it would fit perfectly on a Potbelly Sandwich Works soundtrack—bookended by a Jimmy Buffet tune and Alanis Morrisette’s cover of “King of Pain.”

Chuckles and Mr. Squeezy breeds incredulity. Much of the experience of listening to the album is dedicated to wondering how anyone, at any point, could write this music and feel okay with themselves.

dredg – Chuckles and Mr. Squeezy Tracklist:

1. “Another Tribe”
2. “Upon Returning”
3. “The Tent”
4. “Somebody is Laughing”
5. “Down Without a Fight”
6. “Thought of Losing You”
7. “Kalathat”
8. “Sun Goes Down”
9. “The Ornament”
10. “Where I’ll End Up”
11. “Before It Began”

With four studio albums already under their belt, The Raveonettes have tackled their fifth installment in stride and with great returns. Raven in the Grave manages to meander through the mind in a whimsical way, mating extraterrestrial instrumentals with straightforward lyrics. They produce something less than industrial on their latest record and harness a more synthetic sound that grapples with the soul and adds a new wave appeal to the darker side of their music.

Things get better with age and The Raveonettes are still working to top the charts. Raven includes a more polished sound; different than their Whip it On EP produced nine years ago. Their simple line-up helps them create that practiced sound. Their last record In and Out of Control ranked fifth in their Danish homeland but didn’t chart in the United States. With all their chemistry and a run from other popular indie acts, there is still hope for these Danes yet. Consisting of Sune Rose Wagner on guitar, instruments and vocals, and Sharin Foo on bass, guitar and vocals, little room is left for error in the group.

Album opener “Recharge & Revolt” has the most upbeat tempo of all the songs on the album. It sets the ears up for an astrological journey through the cosmos with ponderous, echoed lyrics and beats drawing from within. “Ignite” is another upbeat tune and harnesses echo and bass together to make a solid concoction for an excellent track on a road trip playlist.

“Let Me On Out” has an eerily similar guitar riff as verses from the Dead Kennedys’ “Chicken Shit Conformist.” Here, The Raveonettes take it to a different, Dane-pop duo level and casts a shadow with seriously dark lyrics such as: “I feel that you have died/Let me on out let me on loose let me find someone new.” Its simple lyrics and slowed beat allow for an altogether sad song looking at a failed relationship.

“My Time’s Up” is a slow and painful look at being at the end of one’s journey. Its rocket ship launch of guitar and keyboard bring up the pace, but still casts a shadow on the soul as it explores those final minutes.

For those who were teenagers in the early and mid-90s, it’s easy to hear the Pixies and The Cranberries in a lot of the tracks from this album. Simplicity is the key and perfection allows for a refined and marketable record.

The Raveonettes have a lofty discography and are a slightly underrated act in the U.S., but that doesn’t stop them from making excellent music. All things considered, the best atmosphere for an album of this caliber is amidst a rainy 40 degree day with no hope of sunshine in sight. Throwing in cabin fever is a must, as well as some low lighting and picture-less walls get the full effect. Given the feel of the music on Raven in the Grave, no other alternatives should be accepted.

The Raveonettes – Raven in the Grave Tracklist:

1. “Recharge & Revolt”
2. “War In Heaven”
3. “Forget That You’re Young”
4. “Apparitions”
5. “Summer Moon”
6. “Let Me On Out”
7. “Ignite”
8. “Evil Seeds”
9. “My Time’s Up”

During “White Walls,” the epic finale of 2007’s Colors, Tommy Rogers reflected on the struggles of songwriting and artistic expression. The band wanted to push themselves and do what their hearts desired amidst a stagnant metal scene. Avoiding “Monotonous expression/A forced replica of a tired sound,” Between the Buried and Me dropped a bomb with Colors. Complex, pretentious, unpredictable, sometimes goofy, but always passionate, their masterpiece showed there is still a lot that can be done not only in the technical realm, but in metal as a whole.

It walked the line, but it never fell on the side of too much. Unfortunately 2009’s The Great Misdirect leaned a bit too far. Though there were some truly wonderful directions (see “Mirrors”), there were plenty of—pardon the pun—misdirected attempts at recapturing the glory of Colors. It’s hard to outdo an album that perfectly mashed death metal with space rock and polka, but they gave it a valiant effort to mixed results. Main issues included naming a song “Obfuscation” and ripping off “Donkey Kong.”

And now in 2011, Between the Buried and Me has moved to a new label and has perhaps rejuvenated their creative flow. Instead of going for the big one, the band has decided to do an EP. Of course, this means three ten-minute songs. And the title is The Parallax: Hypersleep Dialogues. What?

A quick look through Wikipedia tells you the concept of parallax can be a metaphor for two similar stories told from two perspectives around the same time. The EP revolves around two characters: Prospects 1 & 2. It appears these two characters live in separate worlds but they come across the same occurrences in their lives. As one might expect, the musical shifts coincide with the characters.

As far as the music goes, the band has cooled off a bit and there’s nothing as egregious as aping “Donkey Kong” (pardon the pun again), but there’s also nothing that pops out like “Donkey Kong.” Well, there is the intro.

Someone needs to tell Rogers his synths sound terrible and he needs to stop using them.

The intro to “Specular Reflection” is just outrageous. It’s almost as bad as old Symphony X. The more tones he brings in, the cheaper they sound. And he permeates the surface more and more each release.

When the band kicks in, it’s back to classic BTBAM. Even if it lacks the strong riffs, it sounds pretty good. Dan Briggs and Blake Richardson make up one of the best rhythm sections in the business and Paul Waggoner’s dexterity and endurance on guitar are phenomenal. However, as Rogers switches from growling to singing random lines and the sung parts also don’t really contain strong melodies, it’s clear they are struggling to grow.

Any riff that sounds moderately cool comes too close to sounding like a riff they’ve done before. They even go so far as to try a polka bit again but now, of course, it’s just gimmicky.

There is a chance that these parts are supposed to connect with “Sun of Nothing” and “Swim to the Moon,” but it’s not quite as clear or as well executed as the recurring themes used by Dream Theater or The Dear Hunter.

Every move on Colors made sense. The dynamic shifts were huge and the listener understood what was going on even if it took a few listens. Furthermore, it clearly meant something to the band. “This is all we have when we die/It’s what’s left of us when we die/We will be remembered for this.” Rogers knew that they had struck gold with that album. Everything fell into place and they effectively gave metal a shove. Now the band is drowning themselves in concepts and what were once huge leaps from album to album are now sidesteps.

This five-piece is one of the most collectively talented group out there; they just need some new inspiration.

Continuing through “White Walls, Rogers sings about fans and label executives: “They want to be fed/Fed a simple replication of past greatness.” And, like The Great Misdirect before it, that’s exactly what The Parallax: Hypersleep Dialogues is. Between the Buried and Me is becoming the thing they feared most.

Between the Buried and Me – The Parallax: Hypersleep Dialogues Tracklist:

1. “Specular Reflection”
2. “Augment of Re-Birth”
3. “Lunar Wilderness”

Silk Flowers have produced something that fits their moniker well—music that’s beautiful and smooth, but is ultimately artificial. For this New York City-based trio, like so many other electronic acts up and coming in recent years, the 1990s never happened, and while a departure from the previously ubiquitous grunge guitar base is welcome, too much of a good thing can still be … too much of a good thing.

Listener ears will hear electronic keyboards, drums and synthesizers that echo early Speak and Spell era Depeche Mode, with the occasional droll bass vocal a la post-punk pioneers Joy Division or more conventional indie rockers The National. There’s no question Silk Flowers come from the same florist that stocks groups like New Wave Mark Two groups Cold Cave, glitch-pop provacatuers Isolee, or goth cut-out bin denizens Black Tape For A Blue Girl.

In addition, they certainly bear the electronic imprint of Post Present Medium label affiliation and their labelmates Abe Vigoda, and on sophomore effort Ltd. Form, they have assistance crafting their sound from Amanda “MNDR” Warner of Oakland group Triangle, who has collaborated with Safety Scissors and Mark Ronson.

But a pedigree can only get a group so far, and the record must stand or fall on the strength of its compositions and whether the melodies are compelling and memorable.

“Small Fortune,” one of the many instrumentals, embraces the worst prog-rock impulses of Pink Floyd and Tales from Topographic Oceans-era Yes, although at the beginning, the listener could be forgiven for thinking they are listening to a John Waite record.

On track four—“Fruit of the Vine,” frontman Aviram Cohen channels Mark Edwards to produce an electro-pop version of pre-emo janglers My Dad Is Dead, but ends up sounding more like Orchestral Manouevers In The Dark:

Be careful what you wish for/You just might get it/And even when the getting’s good/You may regret it. Regret it, indeed.

Throughout there are some enjoyable melodies, but at the end of these nine cuts, there’s really nothing new here—maybe that’s the reason for titling the record Ltd. Form. Silk Flowers are honest about the framework they are embracing to craft this record, at least. But for the most part, it’s like listening to early 80s TV and movie soundtrack music (Jan Hammer’s “Miami Vice” theme and Harold Faltermeyer’s “Beverly Hills Cop” music spring to mind, or even the Fixx’s “Deeper and Deeper” from “Streets of Fire” soundtrack, minus the dark, lattice-work rhythms) especially on the lite-rock wannabe “Small Fortune.” “Frozen Moments” makes one wonder if  Sarah Connor might throw Ltd. Form on for a quiet evening at home with her roommate’s iguana before tripping some lights fantastic at Tech-Noir. One can’t help wondering if, rather than listening to Ltd. Form, it would be just as easy to dust off the 7-inch single of “Space Age Love Song” by A Flock of Seagulls and take that for a spin. Can the skinny ties, parachute pants and ridiculous hair-dos be far behind? God forbid.

Silk Flowers – Ltd. Form Tracklist:

1. “Chance”
2. “Frozen Moments”
3. “Covered Lamp”
4. “Fruit of the Vine”
5. “Small Fortune”
6. “Band of Color”
7. “Present Dreams”
8. “Thin Air”
9. “A Brush Through The Dust”

The Middle East is an odd name for a band, especially for such a calm one, and one whose music doesn’t fit one single genre; if forced the genre would be gospel-orchestral-ambient-folk-hybrid. Their debut, I Want That You Are Always Happy, doesn’t need to be intellectually understood to be appreciated. In fact, the ideal listening mentality is to not think at all. The album works like audible Ambien with its mellow, intoxicating flow. It might be the best sleep one could possibly have.

The Middle East hails from Queenlands, Australia. The actual Middle East region seems to have little in common with Australia, but the name fits the band’s eclectic nature. The Middle East’s seven members employ a range of sound that is both expected and unexpected. The result is songs with their own individual character. They flow into each other well, which makes the listening experience feel like a journey as opposed to a quick slog through a collection of singles.

The album has an interesting structure with the first couple of songs falling into the band’s more ambient range followed by a middle that goes for a quicker, folk tone. The last three come back down to the Middle East’s softer side; although they could use some trimming, they finish the album out on a relaxing note.

The tempo never gets past a moderate speed, but the band utilizes an impressive amount of instruments to spice things up. Strings, flutes, vocal harmonies, trumpets, electric guitar, acoustic guitars, drums and others imbue the album a pleasing collection of tones.

The band’s subtlety in sound is also evident in the album’s lyrics. Rohin Jones and Jordan Ireland are the band’s resident writers, and they wring out quality material from their relationships with both others and God, their most overtly religious song being, “Jesus Came to My Birthday Party.” While one may think it’s a testimonial for Jesus Christ, it’s much more subtle than the name implies. Going from these lyrics, “That was a long time ago/And I haven’t seen him in a while/Now I’m down in the city/And I think I/Seen him in the eyes/Of the strangers that pass,” one can see it’s more about finding and losing a religion than shaking hands with Christ at a bitching party.

Making soft music without becoming dull is difficult, but The Middle East maintains their hushed tones without boring the listener with subtle instrumentation and lyrics. The band makes full use of the talents of its members to craft an album that moves organically from song to song and remains entertaining throughout. Best of all their arrangements are delivered with real feeling that’s easy to hear.

The Middle East – I Want That You Are Always Happy Tracklist:

1. “Black Death 1349”
2. “My Grandmother Was Pearl Hall”
3. “As I Go To See Janey”
4. “Jesus Came to My Birthday Party”
5. “Land of the Bloody Unknown”
6. “Very Many”
7. “Sydney to Newcastle”
8. “Mount Morgan”
9. “Months”
10. “Dan’s Silverleaf”
11. “Hunger Song”
12. “Ninth Avenue Reverie”
13. “Deep Water”
14. “Mount Morgan End”
15. “My Baby (Bonus Track)”

Few bands have been so honored as to have Helen Mirren forget their name. The flabergasted look on Dave Grohl’s face as SNL’s closing credits rolled made the episode in which Foo Fighters premiered two songs from their latest album, Wasting Light. The gum-chewing, bearded Grohl is one of few hailed as a real living rock legend.

Like something crawling out of the sea of the 1990s, the band carries on; somehow, doing the same thing they do every time—sweaty, hard arena rock.

Maybe because they refuse to subgenretize, their success hasn’t ceased across time. And yet Wasting Light is a return to form, reminiscent of simpler days. Examine the circumstances and it’s no wonder the album is already being compared to The Color and the Shape.

Recorded entirely on tape without digital aid, Wasting Light marks the return of the illustrious Pat Smear who throws his hat in on the gaudy, “Rope,” a track that will  have teenagers everywhere checking online guitar tabs. Smear’s most visible hand in the album comes in its virtuosic metal dabbling. “White Limo,” with its straight eighth-note savagery might have been considered too ambitious for Smear-less albums.

Grinding guitars, sure. Thick, effusive choruses, yeah. The album delights, but never sizzles, “Rosemary” is the sort of “Steady As She Goes” descending bass line without an earworm hook and the chorus seems half-baked. Grohl is such a seasoned veteran he probably dreams in Foo melodies. Maybe, just maybe it’s a little too easy for him. One of the most endearing qualities of his voice is that  no matter how bat shit crazy he goes on a melody, it feels like he’s on your side.

The Wasting Light’s lyricism is typical Foos, occasional flashes of wrath, but otherwise it’s like being home and knowing where to find everything; it may be familiar, but you don’t have to worry about it.

“Alandria” has shades of Nirvana’s languorous fury when Grohl screams, “Fame, fame go away. Come again some other day,” over rollicking buzz-saw guitars. Nirvana’s original bassist Krist Novoselic actually hops on the album, which was produced by Nevermind’s Butch Vig.

Just as it’s hard to find a consistent strength of Wasting Light, it’s also hard to find a weakness. The album is the unadulterated passion of Foo Fighters blaring through whatever skeptical critics may hurl. The analog production makes it seem more storied, like the grain of a film photograph. It may be a trite relic but it sure sounds cool.

Foo Fighters – Wasting Light Tracklist:

1. “Bridge Burning”
2. “Rope”
3. “Dear Rosemary”
4. “Alandria”
5. “These Days”
6. “Back & Forth”
7. “A Matter of Time”
8. “Miss the Misery”
9. “I should Have Known”
10. “Walk”

Music fans are incredibly fickle. If anyone is aware of it would be the members of gUiLLeMoTs.

Its first full-length Through the Windowpane was a delightful piece of shoegazey indie rock that had few flaws. When the band ditched the moody atmospherics on its sophomore album Red, both fans and critics were not pleased. Red saw gUiLLeMoTs attempt to integrate new instrumentation and songwriting techniques; a noble pursuit that yielded shoddy results.

It feels as if the band, led by singer/keyboardist/guitarist Fyfe Dangerfield, has found a way to return to the slow moving builds of Windowpane, but be able to interject small flares from Red without alienating anyone. Admittedly, this third album entitled Walk the River works best when the band is sticking to being moody.

The titular, opening title track “Walk the River” perfectly encapsulates what the band is capable of achieving. The track starts with engrossing percussion courtesy Greig Stewart and Aristazabal Hawkes before Dangerfield’s airy voice fills the gaps. His vocal work is strong, his lyrics engaging and he displays his ability to write a hook over an atmospheric chorus.

Multi-instrumentalist MC Lord Magrão—despite having a name that is beyond pretentious—proves to be adept at every instrument he picks up. Most importantly, he knows when to lay back and let the song move without overstepping his bounds.

gUiLLeMoTs prove it’s found a way to integrate the fan-favored shoegaze with the experimental nature of Red. On “I Don’t Feel Amazing Now” the band steps outside of the post-rock realm and creates a pop-ballad that feels like a long lost Oasis b-side (probably because of the British accents).

Walk the River’s highpoints are quite high and when the band hits its stride it’s able to make nine-minute songs like “Sometimes I Remember Wrong” avoid monotony and maintain urgency. However, there are several instances where gUiLLeMoTs’ execution proves to be inversely proportional to its ambition.

“Yesterday is Dead” closes the album in the most disappointing way by relying far too heavily on digital effects and bland lyrical repetition. Oh, and it goes on for eight-and-a-half minutes.

Then there is “I Must Be a Lover,” a track that feels like the band’s attempt to have lightening strike twice and create another downtrodden balled similar to “I Don’t Feel Amazing Now.” Unfortunately, “I Must Be a Lover” putters out midway through due to the combination of a lackluster chorus and unmemorable instrumentation.

Walk the River proves that gUiLLeMoTs have a lot of skill and wide range of influences. It attempts—and occasionally succeeds—at producing an album that appeals to fans of shoegaze and pop-rock alike. It’s a sort-of return to the band’s style on Windowpane, but it’s hard to tell whether that’s because it’s the sound the band wanted or if they were afraid to make an album that would get panned as much as Red was.

gUiLLeMoTs – Walk the River Tracklist:

1. “Walk the River”
2. “Vermillion”
3. “I Don’t Feel Amazing Now”
4. “Ice Room”
5. “Tigers”
6. “Inside”
7. “I Must Be A Lover”
8. “Slow Train”
9. “Sometimes I Remember Wrong”
10. “The Basket”
11. “Dancing in the Devil’s Shoes”
12. “Yesterday Is Dead”