One might be tempted to forgive Spencer Krug and Dan Boeckner if this album, the second from Montreal’s Wolf Parade, sounded forced or difficult. They certainly have their share of distractions these days, what with Krug’s two other bands (Sunset Rubdown, Frog Eyes) and Boeckner’s other outfit (Handsome Furs) becoming more and more vital to the current indie rock landscape. Fortunately for Wolf Parade fans, these two exceptional songwriters have once again brought their best stuff to the table. At Mount Zoomer is a far cry from the howling, agit-pop of their debut, the critically acclaimed Apologies to Queen Mary, opting instead for a leaner, more focused approach. At a trim nine songs, 46 minutes long, the record seems to fly by – not as a result of the albums length per se, but to its overall appeal and accessibility. They have, in these tracks, perfected the piano/guitar/synth stomp, putting on a clinic when it comes to instrumental interaction. Guitar figures melt in and out, bending their notes to appease a keyboard phrase or a particular vocal, all in service of the greater good, which in this case, is melodic support. Truly, there is no real standout instrument in these songs. They all blend together wonderfully, creating a sonic atmosphere of great energy and rare stamina. Krug and Boeckner continue to trade lead vocalist hats, but that’s the only real display of personal identity to be found in these tracks. Wolf Parade is a great young band devoted to craft and obsessed with unification. At Mount Zoomer bears an instant appeal that is rare in this modern climate of ostensible, individualist rock bands. Though somewhat lyrically challenged, the group excels when it comes to crafting pump-your-fist sing-alongs. “The Grey Estates,” “Language City,” “California Dreamer,” “Soldiers Grin,” “Call It a Ritual”... there are great, great moments on this record that easily trump the efforts of their so-called contemporaries. As a huge fan of their debut, I would have gladly endured a repeat performance. Luckily for me (and you) that simply would not suffice. Wolf Parade is too good to revisit old habits. Been there, done that, now check this shit out.
–
Andrew Watson
As silly as it may be, the cover to Sigur Rós’ new album can clue listeners in on the band’s new sound. Streaking bodies gleefully crossing a highway in the sunshine certainly captures the joy this disc has in spades. Where Sigur Rós’ previous releases relied on their listeners to fully immerse themselves in the tones and nuances of the atmospheric band’s slow builds and nonsense lyrics to find their own moods and meanings, Med has so much happiness instantly instilled in its abundant acoustic guitars and driving drums that right from the free-time-signature start (“Gobbledigook”) it’s hard not to think of this as a celebration. Especially following last year’s delightful documentary Heima, the Icelandic quartet’s glowing heart provides a light and warmth to this entire CD, even on laments like “Ára bátur,” recorded live in one take with a full orchestra in London, and the solitary “Íllgresi.” The slight lessening of the open-endedness the band had before might make the “experience” of this set not as rewarding for some, but fear not. Guitarist/vocalist Jón Þór Birgisson may have set down his bow, and even his electric, for many of these songs, and even sings in English for the first time ever on the album’s last track “All Alright,” but their mesmerizing mysteriousness remains if changed. The band has crisscrossed the Atlantic with famed producer Flood this time to challenge themselves more, if not their listeners, to create something new.
–
Eric Mitts
For their third self-titled set (and sixth overall), Weezer works on what was once their biggest weakness. The last time they tried the color-scheme album, with 2001’s “Green Album,” frontman Rivers Cuomo got so obsessed with playing perfect pop-radio hits, he refused to remember the range of Weezer’s now-landmark first two releases. That disc’s disappointment differentiated Weezer 2.0 from the band’s original lineup as they’ve similarly marred most of their subsequent efforts. “Red” aims to change all that and gets off to a good start with “Troublemaker.” “The Greatest Man That Ever Lived (Variations on a Shaker Hymn),” sounding something like Weezer’s stab at Green Day’s “Jesus of Suburbia,” comes just too early on the album for its own good. Had they’d plowed through the poppier “Pork and Beans” and tender, rock referential “Heart Songs” first, the song wouldn’t feel so bloated and forced down the throat. Later, when things start to drag and the riffs sound too reminiscent (hasn’t Weezer recorded something damn near the intro to “Dreamin’” about a dozen times before?), Cuomo hands the songwriting reins to his bandmates for three songs. Guitarist Brian Bell’s “Thought I Knew,” drummer Patrick Wilson’s “Automatic,” and “Cold Dark World,” co-penned by Cuomo and newest member/bassist Scott Shriner, sound different, but with mixed results. So by the time things wind back for closer “The Angel and the One,” Cuomo’s swell of guitars gets to once again sound like a welcomed-back Weezer.
–
EM
Coldplay could crap in the ocean and what floated up on the other side would top the album charts. Vida isn’t that bad, but Coldplay’s lukewarm dominance of pop-rock’s populous shows how sorry music has become. Vocalist Chris Martin has admitted in interviews to not writing good lyrics and, while capable of claiming crying eyes (“Cemeteries of London”), his songs lack the significance of his personal crusades for various social causes. Producer Brian Eno pushes the band to experiment (“Yes”), but there’s no boiling Coldplay’s well-chilled formula (the title track). They could make a more meaningful masterwork, and even ascend the U2 throne so many super-fans desperately want them to claim, if they, mostly meaning Martin, can get over themselves.
–
EM
After four albums’ worth of steady incline, the My Morning Jacket trip to Mars takes a slight detour with the release of Evil Urges. Certainly there’s nothing wrong with trying new things, expanding the palate – that, after all, is the nature of artistic ambition. MMJ, however, have a really, really good thing going with the slightly country, majorly slamming-type throwdowns they’ve spent the past several years mastering. Curiously, Evil Urges features ill-advised forays into faux-funk and R&B, and completely evaporates the heaven-sent, reverb-soaked Jim James vocal we’ve come to love so much. This is too clean. Too shallow. My Morning Jacket is way too good to let this slow them down, however. The rebound will be exquisite, I promise you.
–
AW
Regardless of the legitimacy of The Neptunes’ genius as groundbreaking beat-makers, they have undeniably come up with some of the craziest choruses to ever catch pop attention. Seriously, “All the girls standing in the line for the bathroom,” shouldn’t work as a hip-hop hook, but on lead-off cut “Everyone Nose” they sell it like a pusher or a well-placed vending machine. One of only three songs co-written by both Neptunes, aka Pharrell Williams and Chad Hugo (Williams writes the rest alone), “Nose” exhales the sort of strange airs the hit-making production duo has made N.E.R.D.’s norm. Seeing Sounds doesn’t induce instrumental visions, but excursions like “crashing” break-up ballad “Sooner or Later” leave a lasting image of a geeky group growing.
–
EM
The second installment from the newest incarnation of The Melvins trades some surprises for solid rocking. Those unaware of the awesomeness of 2006’s (A) Senile Animal should listen back now and brace themselves for the bombast of Big Business drummer Coady Willis playing alongside longtime Melvins skins-man Dale Crover as the two bands merged for the first time. With that lineup intact (a rare feat for any consecutive Melvins albums) the drums are the most notable difference between Animal and Boots overall. It’s not exactly fathomable to reference against any other record from Melvins’ massive back-catalog, but “Dog Island” doesn’t sound that distanced from their legendary proto-grunge days of 1993’s Houdini. Download the terrific title track to get a taste.
–
EM
|
|
Robin Pecknold is only 21 years old, yet he belies a spirit much older and wiser. Boasting a voice of almost unbearable purity and a taste for aching, arching acoustic passages, Pecknold and his band Fleet Foxes have crafted a debut record that pays tribute to artists many years his senior, owing heavily to the traditions set forth by artists like Gram Parsons, Brian Wilson and The Band. Blissfully unaware of whatever passes for “indie rock” these days, the Foxes sound as if they just recently emerged from a log cabin in the mountains somewhere and wandered blindly into Sub Pop HQ with a bunch of dusty reel-to-reels in tote. These tracks are informed by history, soaked in glorious sunshine and spit-shined for mass consumption. “White Winter Hymnal” is part boy’s choir, part elegiac gospel-pop perfection. “Your Protector” is intensely subtle yet instantly memorable in terms of melodic structure, Pecknold’s vocals leading the chorus’ bold change of key with an incredible and confident flair. And did I mention he was only 21? History will undoubtedly be kind to Fleet Foxes, as music of this nature tends to age incredibly well; check records like Music From Big Pink or Harvest if you don’t believe me. High praise, yeah, but I’m definitely not the only rock crit hurling unreasonable accolades at these youngsters. This record will show up on every single Top10 list this December, mark my words. Better yet, mark Pecknold’s words: “Wanderers this morning came by/Where did they go/Graceful in the morning light/To banner fair/To follow you softly/In the cold mountain air.” Imagine those lines delivered in an angelic tenor, and backed by the musical equivalent of a spring frost. Striking.
–
AW
Supergrass never shot to superstardom here in the States the way they did back home in the U.K. Too young at the time of their arrival in the mid-90s to pioneer the Brit-pop movement, they played the part of proud progeny for the last decade. Definitely no longer the product of youngsters, Diamond Hoo Ha drops four to the floor right at the door, ready to rock. Neither the most nor least complicated of the band’s six releases, it enjoys its classic rock, daresay cocky swagger early and often (opener “Diamond Hoo Ha Man,” “Rebel In You”) before getting in good with plentiful grooves (the excellently paired “Rough Knuckles” and “Ghost of a Friend,” as well as the beautifully building finale “Butterfly”).
–
EM
Indestructible isn’t infallible, but as far as mainstream metal CDs go, it gets close to incredible. Despite topping the charts with three consecutive albums, Disturbed does disappoint fans from time to time – did the world really need a metal cover of Genesis’ “Land of Confusion”? – but what they don’t do is die back. David Draiman has the guts to go where not many singers in the post-Daughtry/David Cook era of melodic hard rock dare. Indestructible finds Draiman donning his animalistic side again (“Inside The Fire,” etc.). The man doesn’t deliver lyrics so much as he makes syllables surrender to his rhythmic will. Love it or loathe it, he’s got it down and this disc does more with it than any since their debut.
–
EM
I often find myself in the unenviable position of hip-hop defender, vouching for it as a still viable art form and trumpeting the too few truly outstanding acts that happen along. It’s tough, I admit, especially when 96 percent of what passes for rap music is, at best, vile and cruel, and at worst, amateurish and embarrassing. The Cool Kids come along at just the right time – a breath of not-so-fresh air that takes us back to the late-80s, early-90s, a time when hip-hop was thriving. Old school beats with new school ‘tude, rapping about bikes and gold chains and all things wonderful. Bake Sale will jive your ass. What could possibly be wrong with that?
–
AW
Those suspicious of Shinedown’s softer side getting the better of them after “American Idol” breakout Chris Daughtry performed “I Dare You,” off their previous album, 2005’s sophomore set Us and Them, should know this disc loses its balance as quickly as a drunken cowboy. By the album’s midpoint, or approximately “4:03” as vocalist Brent Smith sings on “If You Only Knew,” Shinedown decides to stop throwing down the hard rockers they actually play better for a bunch of power ballads, living up to a serious letdown for anyone looking for more like lead single “Devour.” “Devour” had swallowed whatever thoughts skeptics might have had about the band’s sound and spit them out, only to hock that loogie up a few songs later.
–
EM
To tell the truth about Carolina Liar requires a lot of explaining. Yes, their songs have played all over “The Hills” and troubled troubadour Chad Wolf isn’t the loner he makes himself out to be with his rock-locks and boho scarves. But he’s a great performer, with surprisingly sensitive, if straightforward, lyrics, pushed through the music machine of mega-producer Max Martin. Wolf’s Swedish bandmates sharply contrast with his South Carolina songwriting, nowhere more noticeably than on “Show Me What I’m Looking For.” Still, if the similar, Martin-made Kelly Clarkson hit “Since U Been Gone” snuck its way into the guilty pleasure play-lists of rock fans, Carolina Liar doesn’t have to make anything up to honestly earn their spot there, too.
–
EM
As badly as Craig Finn strives to write sing-alongs, his conversational approach to singing all but prevents that aspiration from becoming a reality. Nevertheless, his outfit, The Hold Steady, has built quite the following over the past couple years, earning a reputation as one of the finest live rock bands working. Stay Positive, the group’s latest collection of down and out narratives, expands their sound just a bit, incorporating harpsichords and brass elements into an already proven formula, resulting in yet another rousing set. Finn shines as a pure lyricist; truly, the stories presented within these songs are stuffed with borderline personalities, life-changing mistakes and, as he once proclaimed, a “multitude of casualties.” Fun stuff.
–
AW
This “bits and pieces” album has 21 tracks that had either been played live for years but not recorded, or had been recorded for years and never played live. Often these types of projects are only for the most fanatic (“Stoopidheads,” as they’re known in this case), but this one’s different. Instantly, you’re on the road with them, sweat forming on your eyebrows as you and the crew head to the beaches of southern California with the top down, puffing on a big, fat... cigarette. “No Cocaine” is new and a highlight. “Train 1” and “Train 2” also translate well to stereo and the first ever recordings of “False Rhythms” and “Sensimilla” breeze by as comfortably as the yellow hashes on the blacktop.–
–
Nick Stephenson
|
|
|
Interviews
CD Reviews
Unsigned Artists
© 2001 - 2008 Blue V Productions, LLC, All rights reserved.
