Showing posts with label the embassy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the embassy. Show all posts

01 April 2013

Review Round-Up: March 2013

Rhye
Woman

The music Mike Milosh and Robin Hannibal make together as Rhye isn't worlds away from what each has crafted separately before – the former (as Milosh) on three solo albums of electronics-infused bedroom songwriting; the latter in a string of excellent, mostly one-off avant-R&B projects including Quadron and the sumptuously quirky Owusu & Hannibal. But there's a purity of purpose, a subtle, stirring potency to what they've achieved together on this calmly wondrous debut which sets it apart, marking theirs as a rare, richly fruitful collaboration.

Maybe it has to do with communication – there's a refreshing sense of directness, not necessarily in the words themselves (although their lyrical appeals – "stay open"; "make love to me" – are plenty explicit), but in the sound of the music which, for all its abundant, unabashed prettiness and orchestral elegance – harps, quivering strings, tenderly fragile falsetto – maintains a stripped-down, unaffectedly human scope. Simply said: this, here, is Soul – not the backwards-looking stylistic cul-de-sac of retro signifiers and disclamatory prefixes, but the living breathing music which seemed to get sidelined decades ago in favor of the more technical (if often woefully inaccurate) but nowhere near as expressive "R&B " – as though that word somehow just started sounding a bit too real. Like its necessary-not-sufficient constituents, groove and vibe (here, naturally, in spades), it's a mighty elusive thing. But when you hear it, you'll know.

The Strokes
Comedown Machine

You’re not gonna get another Is This It, alright? Be quiet; you already got two. The Strokes have long since evolved into something stranger and altogether more interesting. Comedown Machine may not quite hit the heights of the band’s masterpiece-to-date (that’d be 2006’s First Impressions of Earth), but it continues their healthy trend of finding curious new ways to twist and complicate their by-now instinctively recognizable sound, taking apart and reassembling their precision-tooled interlocking arrangements to burrow ever deeper into jittery new wave. Rock saviors or no, they’ve always (secretly?) been a pop band at heart; that’s clear here right from the “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’” groove and attendant Jacko falsetto (a surprisingly recurrent Julian Casablancas tactic here – sometimes a dubious look, but he commits to it) of “Tap Out,” which kicks off an electric four-song run to stand alongside any in their catalog. From there we get pinched-voice tin-can punk, drowsy Beach Boys harms, an oblique, ersatz-exotica closer, an electro-kissed softie with a melody worthy of a piano-bar crooner standard (“Chances”) and, in “Partners In Crime,” another fine entry “Someday”-style in their ongoing slap-dash swing-beat sweepstakes. Not bad for a bunch of dads.

Fol Chen
The False Alarms

Quirky can be a double-edged sword. On their promising if inconsistent first two LPs, Fol Chen found compelling pop in unlikely places, but undermined it with a sense of oddball overload: willfully mysterious presentation, inscrutable narrative conceits, a general whiff of cloying pretension. With The False Alarms, they've mostly dropped the conceptual schtick (and accompanying numbering scheme), keeping the focus on their actual, legitimately intriguing music. And happily so: this is their sharpest full-length yet, gaining cohesion from the (often mechanically warped) vocal presence of improbably named new frontwoman Sinosa Loa. It's still not a far cry from its predecessors – indeed, immediate album highlight "A Tourist Town" lifts its twitchy, baroque robo-funk practically wholesale from previous-album highlight "In Ruins" (hey, if it ain't baroque...) Should-be-single-wise, "I.O.U." – a twinkly, kittenish strut pit against glitch-industrial beats and a slinky, Eastern-tinged guitar figure – may be even better. From there out things get murkier, at least figuratively; the amusingly electroclashy "Boys in the Woods" aside, it's tough to slot anything here into much of a genre. But despite the improbable aural density on offer – untold electronic plinks and micro-sampled percussion, but also string sections, kalimba, timpani, harp... – they somehow maintain a sense of airiness even at their most impenetrably dark. Curiouser and curiouser...
originally published in Magnet Magazine


DJ Koze
Amygdala
[Electronic]


Hamburg's Stefan Kozalla – alias DJ Koze – titled his 2004 mix album All People Is My Friends.  Amygdala, released on his own masterfully-curated Pampa imprint, strives to prove the point, inviting like-minded pals Caribou, Ada, Apparat, Matthew Dear and Milosh (of Rhye) to join him for a leisurely joy-ride through kaleidoscopic post-Kompakt pop.  The resulting album, aptly named for the brain's emotional processing center, is a hazy fantasia, a paisley patchwork wending its way through warmly personable tech-house, daydreamy downtempo, deliciously improbable covers (Kings of Convenience? Rodgers & Hart?) and intermittent Marvin Gaye samples, all of which should win him plenty more friends.


Space Dimension Controller
Welcome to Mikrosector 50
[Electro/Funk]


Welcome to Mikrosector-50 (R&S), the first full-length transmission from Space Dimension Controller (Earthname Jack Hamill) is just your basic retro-futuristic, time-traveling, electro-fried robo-funk space opera.  The album's nutsoid narrative concept – unfolding primarily on the titular planet in the year 2357 AD – is even more of a cheeseball sci-fi goof than, say, Janelle Monae's ArchAndroid, undertaken with a truly inspired degree of commitment.  Even more impressive: somehow, the myriad computerized voices (both spoken and sung) and Hamill's freaky/cheeky, easy/sleazy Egyptian Lover-style rhymes manage not to detract one bit from his suitably epic, electric, eighties-indebted galactic grooves, which recall Dâm-Funk and Daft Punk in equal measure.


Flume
s/t
[Electronic]


A little bit Dilla, a little bit Skrillex, the self-titled debut from Flume – a.k.a. 21-year-old Australian Harley Streten – suggests a post-dubstep take on the something-for-everyone, pop-happy mentality of prime Chemical Brothers and Basement Jaxx (albeit without the dancefloor-slaying ambition.)  While Streten's shimmery, bouncily broken beats will get heads nodding, the real star of Flume (Mom + Pop) is the abundance of freely pitched 'n' spliced vocals, from "Holdin' On"'s hip-shakin' gospel-soul samples and "Stay Close"'s lovelorn robot-vox to guest spots from Dido-ish lounge-cheese chanteuse Moon Holiday, moaning rock-dude Chet Faker and absurdly-named NY rapper T.Shirt.


The Embassy
Sweet Sensation
[Indie Pop/Electronic]


Swede-pop sweethearts bumming over the relative silence of The Tough Alliance, Studio, jj et. al. should take heart in the lusty, long-awaited return of their spiritual forebears: indie-dance darlings and Gothenberg hometown heroes The Embassy.  If the cover's Spacemen 3 homage and Freestyle-nodding title didn't give it away, Sweet Sensation (International) finds the duo partying like it's 1989 (again); drifting from Madchester to Majorca on breezily unbuttoned house grooves and lusciously thick, New Orderish basslines which veer into fleeting flashes of 303 squelch, while glinting acoustic strums bring the soft-focus sunshine and singer Fredrik Lindson's wan, perennially flat intonation keeps it effete.


Panda Riot
Northern Automatic Music
[Rock/Pop]


Formerly Philly duo Panda Riot dropped their gem of a dream-pop debut way back in 2007.  They've long since decamped to Chicago and expanded to a four-piece (adding a drummer; keeping the drum machines), but it's taken them a while to dive back into that luscious headspace for a full-length follow-up.  Northern Automatic Music (Saint Marie), belying its coldly mechanistic title, is polished but still hugely personable, molding the smoothed-out squall of textbook shoegaze into intriguing, too-short instrumentals and full-blooded pop songs atop which vocalist Rebecca Scott veers between ethereal and conversational, even sneaking some Kathleen Hanna-style slackster smarm into "Good Night Rich Kids."


Lady
s/t
[Soul]


Lady is actually two ladies – big-voiced R&B vets Terri Walker and Nicole Wray – tag-teaming their way through a spunky, good-natured self-titled bow on Truth & Soul.  Their soul is unambiguously retro, but it's tough to pinpoint specific referents beyond a loose turn-of-the-'70s window; you'll hear peak-era Motown punch, Philly International polish and a touch of conga-abetted blaxploitation funk, beefed up with gleaming production and never-overstated hip-hop-indebted muscle.  Like Mayer Hawthorne and lamentably few others, they also manage songwriting that's just as potent as their grooves, resulting in a total package that sounds classic – though never slavish – but still feels modern and totally distinctive.


Swamp Dogg
Total Destruction To Your Mind/Rat On!
[Soul/Reissue]


Hyped-up unearthings of vintage funk/soul "lost classics" are practically a dime a dozen nowadays, but it's not often you encounter something as truly strange and striking as the first two long-players from Virginian soul auteur/eccentric Jerry Williams, a.k.a. Swamp Dogg.  Total Destruction To Your Mind (1970) and Rat On! (1971) – remastered/reissued on Alive/NaturalSound – make good on their gonzo titles and even loopier artwork with faintly absurd yet deeply, bitingly salient satire on war, consumerism and race politics, intermingled with some good old-fashioned horndog cheatin' ballads and a straight-up, testifying Bee Gees cover – all backed by roiling, no-punches-pulled Stax-style funk.


Chris Darrow
Artist Proof
[Country/Pop/Reissue]


"Beware of time, it can make a fool of you," twangs LA country-rocker Chris Darrow (and friends) on one of his debut LP's sharpest hooks.  But forty years of the stuff haven't blunted the ample, casual charms of 1972's lost-in-the-shuffle Artist Proof (handsomely reissued on Drag City.)  Given his resumé – co-founding psych-folk hippies Kaleidoscope; session work for a veritable Laurel Canyon-era who's-who – it's no surprise that Darrow nails that warm'n'mellow oh-so-SoCal vibe (a bucket of Bakersfield, a dash of Haight-Ashbury...), but his songwriting shines just as bright, spanning languid, raggedly rootsy pop nuggets, tear-stained ballads, Stonesy rockers ("New Zoot") and boogie-woogie yarn-spinning ("Cocaine Lil.")


Phosphorescent
[Folk/Country]
concert preview


Matthew Houck – the primary agent behind Phosphorescent – has wandered a ways over the years, from spare, narcotized one-man folk to the rangy, full-band country rambles of 2010's Here's To Taking It Easy.  Muchacho (Dead Oceans) draws a little from both sides of that fence, but it also finds Houck exploring some surprising new pastures.  The album opens (and closes) with a serene, synth-dappled choral invocation to the sunrise, and its two finest moments – each one an easy career highlight – similarly evoke the glowing comfort and reassurance of a breaking dawn: "Muchacho's Tune" with its calmly defiant, getting-up-from-the-gutter optimism and curiously soupy sonic meanderings; the glorious "Song for Zula" – a sweeping, radio-ready epic with echoes of U2's "One" and the Verve's "Bittersweet Symphony" – with sumptuous, string-suffused beat loops that make an unexpectedly effective fit for Houck's drowsy, rough-edged drawl.


Night Beds/Indians
[Folk/Pop/Indie]
concert preview


The field of mellow, well-mannered, quietly earnest indie modernism has seen no shortage of contenders over the last ten years.  Here come two more, each taking some cues from perhaps the paradigm's most exemplary recent standard-bearer, Bon Iver.  Indians, the brainchild of Copenhagen's Søren Løkke Juul, takes the expansive electronic-folk-as-quasi-ambient template of that band's eponymous second album in both spacier and poppier directions; Somewhere Else (4AD), with its dainty puffball synths and Juul's elastic, attenuated tenor, bears some timbral resemblance to Animal Collective at their most sedate.  Night Beds' Winston Yellen, by contrast, is more of a traditionalist – definitely a For Emma type – with a richly formidable voice capable of frail Vernonian falsetto, hushed Sufjan solemnity and soaring Wainwright/Buckley quaver as well as the occasional earthier barroom bluster.  Country Sleep (Dead Oceans) feels like Ryan Adams' Heartbreaker as filtered through a decade of mannered Andrew Bird/Iron & Wine chamber-indie politeness; a trifle reluctant to really rock out, but still one of the most striking alt-country debuts in ages.


Valgeir Sigurðsson/Nadia Sirota
[Classical/Experimental]
concert preview


A lynchpin of the indie-classical crossover community, both within and well beyond his native Iceland, Valgeir Sigurðsson's resumé includes arranging, engineering and production work for the likes of Björk, Bonnie "Prince" Billy, Feist and CocoRosie on one hand; Nico Muhly and the Kronos Quartet on the other.  He also founded the pioneering label/collective Bedroom Community, home to Muhly, Ben Frost and Sam Amidon.  His third outing under his own name, last year's Architecture of Loss, began life as the score for a dance piece by Stephen Petronio, but it's intriguing and evocative stuff in its own right, culling haunting, elegiac grace from an unpredictable range of orchestral and subtle electronic textures.  A central presence on the album, and along for the ride to help recreate it tonight, is violist Nadia Sirota, whose own Bedroom Community debut, Baroque, featuring bespoke compositions by Muhly and My Brightest Diamond's Shara Worden among others, is out this week.


Benoît Pioulard
[Experimental/Ambient/Folk]
concert preview


Thomas Meluch's evocative, understated recordings as Benoît Pioulard nestle neatly alongside his Kranky labelmates' in the hazy interstices between tentatively song-based (Grouper, Jessica Bailiff) and purely sound-oriented (Tim Hecker, Windy & Carl.)  Hymnal, his fourth full-length for the label, was inspired by the churches and religious iconography he encountered while living and recording in England and mainland Europe, making his appearance at the First Unitarian's chapel even more fitting than it already would be given his work's hushed intimacy.  That said, the album rarely evokes faith or divinity in any overt, straightforward sense; while certainly graceful and contemplative, it conveys none of the heavenly purity of, say, Julianna Barwick.  The ambient/drone pieces (despite titles like "Gospel" and "Censer") often feel downright grubby, conjuring a sense of dust and corporeal decay akin to William Basinski's Disintegration Loops, while the interspersed folk-flecked vocal numbers, though sweetly, wispily pastoral, carry a slightly disjointed, creepy tinge.


Sondra Sun-Odeon
[Folk/Psych]
concert preview


Of the various individuals presently fuzzing the borders between acoustic folk and dreamlike textural abstraction – Grouper, Charalambides, and Ben Chasny's 200 Years all come to mind – Sondra Sun-Odeon takes a notably dramatic approach, even if it isn't initially apparent.  Aetherea, the Brooklynite's self-released solo debut (she also makes up half of "dark-world-psych" outfit Silver Summit) is deceptively front-loaded with restrained, somnolent finger-picked dirges in which her arresting voice – a mesmeric, melancholy thing recalling the laconic drawl of Moon PIx-era Cat Power – is foregrounded against the thrumming, occasionally turbulent undercurrents of cellist Helena Espvall (of local psych-folk lynchpins Espers.)  It isn't until its stormy back half that the album reveals its full agenda, with several of those unassuming ditties swelling into epic torrents of churning, swirling, doom-laden noise-drone.  Sneaky!


Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds
[Rock]
concert preview


Following the boisterous rave-ups of 2008's Dig!!! Lazarus Dig!!! and the brief but ferocious two-album tenure of Grinderman, Nick Cave's fifteenth album with the Bad Seeds – the first not to feature career-long co-conspirator Mick Harvey – is a decidedly slower burn, seemingly a retreat to the gentler, statelier mode of contemplative mid-career efforts like The Boatman's Call.  But don't mistake the smoother sound (and relative dearth of guitars) to mean the man's getting soft in his mere mid-fifties.  Push The Sky Away (Bad Seed Ltd.) may be a restrained affair – but only in the manner of something that just might erupt if not forcibly held back.  These purring, organ-drenched instrumental atmospheres float atop an ever-lingering sense of menace and mystery, perfect shrouds for Cave's evocative, increasingly surreal storytelling – as likely to reference quantum physics and Wikipedia as ancient mythology and blues folklore – whose poetry remains as primal and libinal as ever.


Chelsea Light Moving
[Rock]
concert preview


Thurston Moore was never just a member of Sonic Youth – the guitarist's litany of outside collaborations and solo projects stretches back to the early '90s, right up through his well-received recent solo albums and last year's self-explanatory Yokokimthurston – but with the dissolution of his nearly three-decade marriage to Kim Gordon and the uncertain future of their alt-rock-defining flagship band, Moore's current affairs now seem like more than just extra-curricular dabbling.  In that light, Chelsea Light Moving (Matador) and the eponymous quartet it introduces – bassist/violinist Samara Lubelski, guitarist Keith Wood (Hush Arbors), drummer John Moloney (Sunburned Hand of the Man) – have the flavor of a carefree rebound relationship: loose, messy, playful; maybe not the weightiest thing in the world, but a whole lot of fun in the moment.   Through fuzzed-out skronk-pop, blank-eyed noise-sludge, hard-and-fast punk and smirking beat poetry, it feels like nothing more or less than an attempt to embrace the mantra of deceptively low-key album opener "Heavenmetal": Be a warrior and love life.


Tensnake
[GENRE]
concert preview


Things haven't quite unfolded for Tensnake like it seemed they would back in 2010, the year of his sun-soaked, vibraphone-enabled smash "Coma Cat," not to mention his nearly-as-ubiquitous remix of Azari & III's "Reckless With Your Love," with its memorably cheeky C+C Music Factory interpolation.  Despite a stage seemingly set for worldwide disco domination, the Hamburg DJ/producer, born Marco Niemerski, has kept things relatively quiet since then, averaging only one single per year (in 2012 it was the '90s-jacking hip-house of "Mainline"), but his steady trickle of remixes (for Little Dragon, Hercules & Love Affair and Aloe Blacc among others) and a recent session for BBC's Essential Mix series – including some tasty unreleased originals possibly slated for a forthcoming LP – attest that he's still got his finger on that mid-tempo good-times boogie pulse.


originally published in Philadelphia City Paper

01 December 2012

2012 Review Round-Up: January

it's december!  here's the plan: as i work my way toward year-end musical festivities (listing! mixing! feasting!), i'm rounding up all (or nearly all) of my writerly output from 2012 with a series of posts, one per day, one for each month, over the next eleven (or twelve?) days.  or bust!

beginning way back in January, with my review of what is still standing strong as my #2 album of the year...

The 2 Bears
Be Strong

The 2 Bears are Joe Goddard (best known as one-fifth of Hot Chip, but also an active solo artist, producer and remixer) and Raf Daddy (Raphael Rundell, one of Goddard's cronies in the Greco-Roman Soundsystem DJ squad.) Their full length debut, following (and culling the highlights from) several EPs, is, first of all, a first-rate party record: a fun, frisky, freewheeling romp through several decades of dance music sounds and styles emanating from London, Jamaica (and the Caribbean in general), Chicago and Detroit, among other places.  But it's also something a good deal rarer and more profound: a tremendously heartfelt celebration of music as a force for transformation, togetherness, love and personal expression.

That may sound like so many tired-out House Nation tropes and ostensibly anthemic dancefloor platitudes, but it's a message refocused here through highly personable delivery – the deep-voiced Raf Daddy's good-naturedly grizzly pronouncements juxtaposed against Goddard's honeyed hooks and bridges (interestingly, the inverse of his typical vocal interplay with Hot Chip's Alexis Taylor) – enlivened with plenty of humor (check the thumping, drily droll "Bear Hug"), and tempered by a refreshing frankness: the way "Work" flips the house music commonplace "you gotta work!" as both a dancefloor injunction and a treatise on real-world economic striving (including some choice thoughts on the labor of music-making itself); the way the title track's advice to independent-minded listeners ("you've got to follow your own mind and ears") also works more broadly as a message of self-discovery and acceptance.

It's there in the words – the exhortation to "give the music all your loving"; the recurrent catchphrase "music for days and days and days"; and perhaps most movingly "Heart of the Congos"' account of one man's personal history with the titular 1977 dub reggae classic, "the sound that keeps us on the ground" (a tale set, naturally enough, to a pumping 2-step garage beat, dotted with talkbox asides and reverb-soaked horn spliffs.) But you can also just feel it in the grooves, which are unfailingly generous, good-humored, and warm but also richly colorful, detail-oriented and steeped in musical history – grounded in house but drawing from garage, techno, euro-disco, dancehall, 80s pop, soul and more with the kind of open-eared, genre-blind mentality that yields winning curiosities like the breezy country and western calypso-blues of "Time in Mind." With palate-cleansing breathers like that song (a sing-along-ready ditty about the prison of a guilty conscience) and the sunny, tropical-tinged chill-out opener "The Birds & the Bees" spaced out among the steady supply of prime-time bangers (the best being the flawless, through-mixed opening string of "Be Strong," "Bear Hug" and "Work," though the closing trio, leading up to the gloriously exultant organs and steel drums of "Church," is nearly as unstoppable), Be Strong is perfectly sequenced for listening as well as dancing. Though you should really be doing both. Either way, you're in exceptionally good hands – er, make that paws.


Lullatone
Soundtracks For Everyday Adventures

Lullatone's music has always been what you could call programmatic, from the project's origins with Shawn Seymour's attempts to make music soft enough not to wake his sleeping girlfriend, Yoshimi Tomida, to early albums full of gentle anthems for bedtime, bathtime and waking-up time. Their recent undertakings have been even more specifically utilitarian in nature, including downloadable collections of thirty-second alarms and ringtones, one-to-two-minute snippets of Elevator Music, and loopable crib-mobile lullabies. Soundtracks for Everyday Adventures is both an extension of that approach and a clever, somewhat philosophical twist on it, playing with similar notions of music designed for a very specific purpose; in this case, as the title suggests, as a counterpart to living your life. Each of these short, simple instrumental pieces is named for the sort of everyday experience to which it might provide an appropriate score: hence, "Checking Things off a To-Do List Early in the Morning" (jaunty recorders and glockenspiels accompanied by ukulele, melodica, and plenty of handclaps and toy percussion) is brightly motivated and pleasantly peppy, while "A Picture of Your Grandparents When They Were Young" (placid bowed and pizzicato strings under a slow-moving music-box melody) is soft and wistful (although for some reason "Riding a Bike Down a Big Hill and Taking Your Feet Off of the Pedals" is considerably more relaxed and tranquil than the thrilling sensation its title describes.)

Taken as a whole, the album has a consistent (and very Lullatone-ish) feeling of wide-eyed charm, curiosity and wonder. It's easy to imagine little kids digging its simultaneously playful and soothing sounds – not coincidentally, Seymour and Tomida, who've always wholeheartedly embraced their sense of childlike sweetness and simplicity, are now proud parents themselves. It's even easier, and perhaps slightly troubling, to imagine it as the soundtrack to a cloying cutesy montage in a TV commercial or perhaps a particularly precious "quirky" indie film – but that's mostly just to say that, despite their adorably "amateur" aesthetic of toy instruments and home-grown distribution channels, Lullatone have honed their knack for conveying certain emotions and sentiments to the point that they now sound fully polished and professional. Whether you find those sentiments delightful and endearing or trite and insipid is another question. But Lullatone – who have edged away from the electronics of their early work and are now working with their richest and most sonically varied palette yet, albeit one that still consists largely of "toy" sounds – definitely know what they're doing, and there's not really anybody who does it better.

The Embassy
Life In The Trenches

Swedish pop cognoscenti have long pegged Gothenburg duo The Embassy as key players behind the vibrant, inventive and strikingly aesthetically unified indie pop scene which has flourished in that west coast second city over the past decade – in particular, as major influences on the likes of Jens Lekman (who's signed domestically to their Service imprint), Studio and The Tough Alliance (both of whom named their own labels – Information and Sincerely Yours, respectively – after Embassy songs), among others. But they've hardly enjoyed the same amount of air-time as their internationally hailed successors (or for that matter their similarly-minded contemporaries The Radio Dept.) Life In The Trenches, the duo's first full-length release in six years, feels like a bid for that to start changing: it's a deck-clearing collection of B-sides, one-off singles, and other non-album cuts, dating from their first release (2001's Sneaky Feelings EP) through to a video track they posted to their Tumblr in 2010 ("C'est La Vie"), but it works marvelously well simply as an introduction – or a re-introduction – to the band, and perhaps a palate-primer for a new full-length they've slyly hinted may be coming sometime in 2012 (these Swedes will have their cryptic secrets.)

And Life is clearly to geared to work as an album in its own right. Sequenced for cohesion rather than chronology, it's a fine showcase for the group's many charms: cheerfully wispy acoustic strumming, tidily sequenced house beats, politely fuzzed-out twee stompers, cake-frosting synths and sampled tropical percussion, all joined by an earnest but lackadaisical melodic sensibility and Fredrik Lindson's hushed, perennially flat vocals. The set actually benefits from its chronological diversity: although a comparison between the balmy synth-kissed instrumental "E6" and rough-edged post-post-punk nugget "No Thanks" (both from 2001) demonstrates that the Embassy's style-spanning aesthetic was essentially fully formed the get-go, many of the earlier pieces here (like 2002's "Make Me Sad") are on the cruder end of the spectrum, and work well juxtaposed with and scattered among newer, more polished material, such as the 2009 12" cut "St8." And it's that more recent work which stands out most vividly, especially opener/2009 A-side "You Tend To Forget," which packs all of the group's most winning sonic tricks and trinkets into an effervescently sunny four minutes. That can only be a good portent for things to come; in the mean time, enjoy this chance to (re)discover a vital missing link between the twee-dance alchemists of the early 1990s (Saint Etienne; The Field Mice) and the Balearic pop/electronic wave of the late 2000s.

Zomes
Improvisations

Chilly and warm, heavy and light, Asa Osborne's third Zomes LP (two-thirds of which was originally released as a limited-edition, bright red cassette in 2010) explores similarly monochromatic, even more intensely minimalistic terrain than his first two.  Whereas Zomes and Earth Grid featured Osborne's grainy cassette-recorded casio ruminations split up into short, discrete "songs," each with its own (if overwhelmingly similar-sounding) musical idea, Improvisations is broken up into three lengthy pieces – 15, 10 and 8 minutes, respectively – none of which offer any particular harmonic/rhythmic/melodic ideas at all, to speak of.  Each is basically an extended drone, billowing in intensity but otherwise static; adorned with layers of swirling, amorphous, fluidly meandering keyboard squigglings which are intermittently more active or more placid, but always equally static in harmonic terms.  The results can be diffuse and ghostly or more knotty and primordial, but the overall effect is generally lulling and meditative, if slightly less so on the third, briefest piece ("No. 3"), which stands most apart from the others for its somewhat harsher, grittier sound (closer to that of the earlier albums) and a denser harmonic texture to its drone.  Perhaps less wholly striking and distinctive than Zomes' more rhythmic and song-oriented work, Improvisations is probably easier to enjoy, with the extended format offering a more broadly sympathetic palette for Osborne's forbiddingly austere aesthetic.
originally published at AllMusic.com


Guided By Voices
Let's Go Eat The Factory
[Reunion Rock]

So Captain Bob's back with his old drinking buddies, dropping their fi all over the place and kicking out the demented, fragmented postage-stamp jams just like they used ta. Let's Go Eat The Factory (GBV, Inc.) – Guided by Voices' first outing in eight years and this "classic" lineup's first in twice that – is twenty-one sloppy, scuzzy rock-doodles in forty-two minutes, unquestionably recapturing the feel, and much of the fun, of their mid-90s heyday. Sure, it's closer to the mildly turgid Under The Bushes than the inane brilliance of Alien Lanes – but it'll do.



Plug
Back On Time
[Drum'n'Bass]

Breakbeat jungle's rarely been as much freaky, funky fun as on 1996's Drum'n'Bass for Papa, a typically frolicsome twist on the genre from the rascally Luke Vibert (Wagon Christ, etc.) under his Plug alias, which was, lamentably, a larkish one-off..until now: fifteen years on, Vibert's uncovered ten "lost" tracks from the era. Compiled on the delightful Back In Time (Ninja Tune), they're unmistakably drawn from the same well of waggishly unorthodox samples and premium-grade, high-octane beat science, but if anything even more playful, punchy and wide-ranging.

Hectic Zeniths
Hectic Zeniths
[Electronic]

Hectic Zeniths – aka Philadelphia high school teacher Adam Morgan Prince – apparently spent three years creating the scant half-hour of unambitious but highly personable piano-based trip-hop comprising his eponymous debut release (Bandcamp.com/Kitchen Dip.) But the results hardly feel labored, let alone hectic – they just burble pleasantly along with considerable grace and sweetness, revealing a keen ear for handmade folktronic sonics and a blend of gentle classicism and sprightly sampling making this a no-brainer for fans of Baths, Bibio and peak-era DJ Shadow.

Jamie Woon
Mirrorwriting
[R&B/Electro-Pop]

Hardly the James Blake also-ran early reports suggested, Londoner Jamie Woon – as we transatlantic punters will finally get to hear thanks to Verve's stateside release of his stunningly good debut, Mirrorwriting – may traffic in nocturnal, atmospheric, angel-voiced quasi-dubstep pillow-pop, too, but if Blake's a rarefied, avant-garde-leaning choirboy, Woon's more of a suave quiet-storm heartthrob, with a silky, smoldering tenor and chilled, elegantly funky mod-garage grooves that should be manna for Seal and Maxwell fans just as much followers of Junior Boys, Burial (who contributes production here), or the xx.

Todd Terje
It's The Arps
[Disco/Electronic]

Todd Terje, gallivanting crown prince of Norwegian space-disco remixery, is on a rollicking roll lately; hot on the heels if last year's widely-loved instant-classic Raygsh EP, here comes It's The Arps, the inaugural release from his own Olsen label, a party-ready four-tracker composed entirely on the classic Arp 2600 semi-modular synthesizer. The glittery two-part "Swing Star" has all the pixy-stick lightning-bug fairy dust you could ask for, but it's the bouncy, frothy, zip-zapping "Inspector Norse" that'll be sparking grins from Oslo to Sao Paolo.



Akron Family/Bad Weather California
[Rock/Folk/Indie]
concert preview

It's easy enough to write off the defiantly singular musical vagabonds of Akron/Family as cultishly esoteric hipster obscurantists, po-faced pastoral freak-folk mystics, stuck-in-the-'70s prog/psych AOR fetishists, or simply dirty, scraggle-bearded hippies. But those facile caricatures (each of which might well hold a grain of truth) miss the fundamental, easy-flowing harmony underlying their aesthetic, and the delicate balance between geekily cerebral intricacy and beautiful, humanistic simplicity which makes their records – like last year's epochal, kaleidoscopic Cosmic Birth and Journey of Shinju TNT (Dead Oceans) – so densely, pleasurably ineffable and their group-chanting, instrument-swapping improv-heavy live shows feel more like ecstatic communal rituals. Their Denver-based comrades Bad Weather CA (whose forthcoming Sunkissed LP is due out on A/F's Family Tree Records) cultivate a similarly hairy, spirit-seeking vibe, but with a more pop-fueled, slightly punkish, resolutely sunny, and decidedly 1960s-informed slant – all Nuggetsy surf organs, township jive saxophones and reverb-doused Elvis vocals.


Idle Warship
[Pop/R&B]
concert preview

The team-up of rapper's rapper Talib Kweli and golden-voiced Philly homegirl Res makes plenty of tasteful, if rather yawnably predictable sense on paper – two old pals and perennially slept-on underdogs regrouping after what's been something of a lost decade for both. But the reality of Idle Warship should come as something of a shock even for the hardcore true believers: rather than sticking to their dog-eared conscious hip-hop/neo-soul playbook, last year's spitfire debut Habits of the Heart (Blacksmith) takes a page or two from the Black Eyed Peas and several more from Janelle Monae, tossing out rock, reggae, disco, paisley funk psychedelia and lots of gleefully trashy dance-pop and robotic eurocrunk, often in rapid succession, just to see what sticks – and plenty of it does. Oh, and there's some pretty good rapping and singing too.

Aimee Mann 
[Singer/Songwriter]

Coincidentally or not, the music for which Aimee Mann will probably forever be best known – the half-album's worth of songs she contributed to PT Anderson's bloated 1999 indie blockbuster Magnolia – is probably among the simplest, most emotionally direct, and least representative work of her career.  By and large, her decades-deep catalog complicates the confessional singer-songwriter archetype she might at first blush resemble, with a well-honed penchant for formalist wordplay and witticism and a career-long commitment to finely wrought, Beatlesque popcraft which often makes her records sound as invitingly warm as they feel coldly aloof.  She's making the rounds again to trawl through that body of work, and also preview a new addition to it due this spring, which will be her first since 2008's feisty, wryly unpronouncable @#%&*! Smilers.


originally published in Philadelphia City Paper