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Listening to Ponytail is like standing next to a girl who’s on a massive dose of E and is sitting in a massage chair while you’re in a tiny club where Dick Dale and Dinosaur Jr. have teamed up to cover Yes songs. Let me explain.
Singer Molly Siegel spends the entire album wooping, yee-hawing, and making other assorted giddy outbursts—just not singing. Sometimes you even have to wonder if the vocals were recorded completely separately, with no backing track in sight. As for the tunes, they’re pure amphetamine fun—a supercharged stew of surf, punk, prog, and noise. They’re loose, ecstatic, efficient, messy and nuanced. And the vocals definitely add to the giddiness, but too often they’re repetitious while the instruments are anything but. Ponytail could come up with a masterpiece if they harness Siegel’s vocals and she lets them evolve with each track rather than jumping for joy at every chance she gets. “Celebrate the Body Electric” goes some length in doing exactly this, and it’s engrossing. For now though, the glee is more than enough to sustain an album that’s truly enjoyable—and almost impossible to quantify.
Brian Merchant
LISTEN TO PONYTAIL
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The lovable ladies (and gent) of CSS make a not-so unexpected move with their sophomore release: they grow up some. The hooks have evolved, the production is slicker, and the subject matter tackled has progressed from having sex while listening to dance-punk to domestic abuse. So they’ve shed their merry juvenility. Don’t despair. Turns out, all that mischievous energy aside, the girls can write a pitch-perfect pop song. Who knew? “Left Behind,” “Move” and “How I Became Paranoid” take the spotlight from the quirkier numbers, with pure pop bliss and funky dance floor strutting. Will CSS become glitzy Brazilian pop queens? Or will they crank up the guitars and once again delve back into their messy, infectious love for Death From Above? Only time will tell.
Brian Merchant
LISTEN TO CSS
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With immaculately-crafted hooks, crisp production, and kitschy retro instrumentation, the debut from super-hyped indie pop sensation and already-British rock stars the Black Kids should really be more fun than it is. It doesn’t help that we’ve already heard many of the best tunes from Partie Traumatic—the standouts from their free-from-MySpace EP The Wizards of Ahh get made over here to no stunning improvement. There are exceptions: “Hail Mary” now exudes a smoky nightclub cool, and its thick atmospherics upgrade it into a groovy, epic anthem. Other favorites, like “I’m Not Going to Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance” suffer from the spotless, more unforgiving studio spit-shine. What once sounded spontaneous and quirky now comes off as over serious—not good for a band that traffics heavily in goofy puns and childish exuberance. Seems the Black Kids do best when they’re loose and scrappy. Give them the limelight, and they get all prima donna. Oh well. You’re going to be dancing either way.
Brian Merchant
LISTEN TO BLACK KIDS
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If I were a sommelier, I would sound like a total idiot trying to describe Astronautalis. I’d probably draw from my deep well of platitudes, citing “warm undertones, a citrusy upper register, a thick, melodic middle that’s both oaky and peppery at the same time.” Astronautalis, the creation of Andy Bothwell, is not classifiable, which is nice. There are hints of Tom Waits, Cake, Midnight Oil, R.E.M. The arrangement palette is vast–you’ll find more strings, horns, and piano than guitar–yet it’s rhythmic and gritty. Bothwell occasionally flirts with some rhyming, which are the record’s most suspect moments, but his languorous baritone and adventurous songwriting make Astronautalis a refreshing and unexpected treat.
Alex Moore
LISTEN TO ASTRONAUTALIS
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With Godspeed You! Black Emperor’s sprawling, cerebral exercises in tension and dissonance in one corner, and Explosions in the Sky’s sparkly uplifting instrumentals in the other, Mogwai sometimes seem like post rock’s odd man out. This album–their best since 2001’s Rock Action–should remind us that there is a middle ground. Hawk’s songs are moody epics that either swell to beatific heights or erupt into distorted pandemonium. Standout track “The Sun Smells Too Loud” is one of the best amalgams of synths, electric guitar, and heavy atmospheric trappings Mogwai (or anyone) has ever patched together. On “I Love You, I’m going to Blow Up Your School,” Mogwai do what they made their name doing. The song is almost Hitchcockian in its staggered, suspenseful ascent to release—you keep waiting for the guitars to crash in, and you wait, and just when you’ve about given up on them—well, you know.
Brian Merchant
LISTEN TO MOGWAI
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With Object 47’s attempts at pop and dance music, one can’t think of Wire and not imagine the clichéd cowboy riding off into the sunset from where he came. But the world isn’t black and white, and moving on isn’t always failure or a sign of corruption. Wire never promised that they were interested in offering anything other than what interested Wire. So instead of mourning a punk band that has aged and changed, we should let Object 47 remind us that we were fortunate enough to have crossed paths with them at all. We’re better for it.
Shane Gill
LISTEN TO WIRE
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Continuing to carve their niche as nostalgia rock’s sleeper cell, The Stills have returned with no surprises to speak of. Once more we are subjected to dreamy pop that neither offends nor particularly impresses. According to Al Gore, Oceans Will Rise, but last we checked, it was from global warming, not boredom.
Shane Gill
LISTEN TO THE STILLS
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Calling upon the sound of ‘77 UK punk, The Briggs have crafted a bunch of bombastic tunes that sound like a mix between Cock Sparrer and Against Me!. While there’s nothing blaringly stand out-ish about the record, it’s still a fun listen and it seems like it would be worth getting to a show early if this band were opening.
Frank Corva
LISTEN TO THE BRIGGS
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First ( ), and now med sud i eyrum vid spilum endalaust or whatever. Oh, Sigur Ros, how deep you are. The seemingly ridiculous title of this record translates to, “with a buzz in our ears we play endlessly.” With that said, the first thing that came to mind while listening to this album was that it’s the band’s most lighthearted and jubilant to date. It’s surprisingly upbeat and groovy as compared to their three previous full-lengths, which were more moody and atmospheric. It’s an excellent and much needed move for the band.
Frank Corva
LISTEN TO SIGUR ROS
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While the most recent Wu-Tang record was highly critiqued for RZA not living up to his name as a producer, Digi Snacks finds him back up to par. It’s dark and mysterious in that patented RZA fashion and it sounds a lot more cohesive than the aforementioned 8 Diagrams. It seems more and more like the members of Wu-Tang are doing their best work apart from one another these days.
Alex Moore
LISTEN TO RZA
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One part Minutemen punk and two parts Son House blues, Reverend Peyton’s Big Damn Band is a breath of fresh air and an obvious next chapter in indie rock’s new-found love for all things blues. While the songs are strong enough to stand the disservice done to them by hokey song titles like “Your Cousin’s On Cops” and stereotypical allusions to redneck clichés, it is clear that this is a band two steps from greatness and a prospect to keep your eyes on.
Shane Gill
LISTEN TP RPBDB
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For his fourth release on Asthmatic Kitty, Rafter teamed up with photographer Lizeth Santos on a concept project. The premise: Rafter would create a song a day–from scratch, all by his lonesome–and Santos would provide a complementary photograph. The result: Sweaty Magic, a funked up seven-song EP, full of irresistible hooks (“Put some salt on it…”) and spastic production. Fingerpicked acoustic guitar samples sidle up against bubbling synth pads; upright basslines are grounded by tin can percussion. Though he occasionally strays into Justice-style bombast, Rafter has put together a short, sweet, and sweaty dance record just in time for summer.
Jed Cohen
LISTEN TO RAFTER
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People have tried to define them. They’ve been called art rock, psych rock, stoner rock and their latest LP, Preteen Weaponry–the first release in what will be a triptych entitled, Thank Your Parents–doesn’t do much to defy the anomaly that is this Brooklyn-based quartet. They’ve been likened to earlier punk bands–usually MC5–but it’s fair to say Preteen Weaponry is deserving of it’s own genre. Its three tracks, well over ten minutes each, don’t cater to today’s ADD listener. Some of the album is so sleepy and repetitious it becomes a sort of rock and roll lullaby. But their shimmering use of effects against a constant thick wall of sound is what makes this album stand out–not many bands can be pretty and scary at once, but Oneida pulls it off flawlessly.
0
LISTEN TO ONEIDA
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Chronicling the prolific, frenzied, mad genius future of rock and roll, Singles 06-07 is a collection of the seven inches released leading up to and after Jay Reatard’s last full length, Blood Visions. The vast majority of instruments played on this recording were by Jay himself. For the die hard fan of Blood Visions, there are early versions of tracks like “Turning Blue” and “Oh It’s Such A Shame”, not to mention a DVD full of live footage. For those who just can’t wait till 2009 for the Matador debut full length, this collection is a must-have to keep your anticipation in check.
Shane Gill
LISTEN TO JAY REATARD
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As the title implies, the Brooklyn duo High Places has compiled tracks originally released between March and September 2007, and in doing so, has created an ineffable, ephemeral work of high art. Ephemeral not because its easily forgotte-the melodies and beats are in fact instantly memorable if not exactly discernable–but because it has the quality of dreams: fleeting, seemingly incomplete vignettes full of Eastern, African, and Latin sounds and rhythms, all kissed by the angelic cuteness of Mary Pearson’s voice. The worldly vibe and the floating Pearson will inspire comparisons to Paul Simon’s international collaborations, but the electronic production and choral delays work to make this record a far more delicate and visceral experience than Graceland.
Jed Cohen
LISTEN TO HIGH PLACES
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Death Vessel: solo folk singer under the misleading title of a band’s name. Ring a bell? Well, if that’s too clichéd to stand your patience, you may be best served moving on to the next solo folk singer under the misleading title of a band’s name. Unfortunately for Joel Thibodeau, the man behind Death Vessel, his Sub Pop debut crumbles under the weight of clichés. Impressive guitar playing and lullaby arrangements aside, the bulk of the Nothing Is Precious Enough For Us is largely forgettable.
Shane Gill
LISTEN TO DEATH VESSEL
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Darker My Love seem built for arenas. (Whether this is a good thing or not I leave for you to decide.) The guitars are huge and groaning, Will Canzoneri’s organ is choppy and textured, and Tim Presley’s vocals are drenched in reverb and have the almost chirpy quality of that lanky guy in Jane’s Addiction, especially on “Blue Day.” Though the DML boys are from LA, I couldn’t help thinking they were from Britain: they rock the dirge-psychedelia like Gomez, and their more anthemic tunes are equal parts Pink Floyd and Maharishi-era Beatles.
Jed Cohen
LISTEN TO DARKER MY LOVE
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As indie rock bands go, Chicago’s Bound Stems are responsible for some of the most visceral live shows I’ve seen in recent years this side of the Wrens. Their recorded work to date has balanced charged rave-ups with drifting, almost ambient passages, to a more mixed effect. Though the songs heard on The Family Afloat range in tempo from aggressive to contemplative, they feel much more cohesive than the group’s previous efforts. It doesn’t hurt that the vocal interplay between Bobby Gallivan and Janie Porche is more discernible here than before–“Happens to Us All Otherwise” and “Passing Bell” both standing out as moments in which layered vocals serve as a gut-punch. Nor is it a problem that beneath the layered arrangements is a vital pop sensibility; coupled with the group’s contemplative, literate aesthetic, the end result is rock music that both inspires and provokes.
Toby Carroll
LISTEN TO BOUND STEMS
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The tribal toms and ice-like, clean-toned guitars that dominate the first track of Apse’s debut record set the tone for the rest of this enervated album. Much like the post-apocalyptic stylings of their contemporaries, Explosions In The Sky and Mogwai, Apse rely on epic open strings, glaciers of reverb, and two chord drones to communicate their scorched earth melancholia. Where Apse differs is in their doubled, distorted vocal production and a facility for dissonance. Despite the occasional harmonic complexity (cf. “Shade of the Moor” for a scary baseline slathered with koto-sounding guitars), this disc too often relies on the road marks staked by the band’s predecessors.
Jed Cohen
APSE ON MYSPACE
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Over the last 12 years Alkaline Trio has transformed from a scrappy, sarcastic three-piece punk band on Asian Man Records to a band on a major label, primed for a bigger audience. The transition has been smooth and gradual as their Vagrant years saw their songwriting maturing and congealing. Agony and Irony has that caustic, trademark Alkaline Trio sound, only this time it’s very apparent that the record will be serviced to radio.
Frank Corva
AK3 ON MYSPACE
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Adem Ilhan’s third album is comprised of covers, all taken from albums released between 1991 and 2001. Given that Ilhan’s discography encompasses both pastoral folk (released under his own name) and the more genre-spanning work of the group Fridge, the range of material covered here shouldn’t come as much of a shock. And while some of the more conventional choices (Yo La Tengo’s “Tears Are In Your Eyes,” Low’s “Laser Beam”) come off well, the highlights are the more esoteric choices. Pinback’s “Loro” is given a faithful rendering, while a pair of The Richard D. James Album-era Aphex Twin songs are woven into something mesmerizing. Towards the end of the disc, Adem’s take on The Breeders’ “Invisible Man” becomes a masterful demonstration of baroque-pop arrangements and hushed vocal delivery.
Toby Carroll
ADEM ON MYSPACE
