Sound It Out Records

Best. Title. Ever.

Before you notice I have no idea what I’m talking about, let me tell you this: as much a record as a ride, Dragonslayer is a humble epic. That I have totally failed to find the right words to describe it should be beside the point: Spencer Krug – also of Wolf Parade and Handsome Furs fame – has crafted the most imaginative set of songs I’ve heard in a long time (possibly my own fault) and given them the best album title, err… ever?

Dragonslayer‘s tracks make little sense on their own, or out or order. In this sequence, however, they make up a remarkably moving piece around a central metaphor (or so I perceive): an artist who sets out to “tell the kids” what the fuck is up by showing them the “ancient ways” of rock n’ roll. That said, the story is never clear, leaving you guessing what Icarus, dragon slayers, Nashville and eating butterflies all have to do with each other.

These carefully structured songs, often presented without (or with several) obvious choruses, are pestered with so many climaxes you’ll… nevermind, I’m not going there. Let’s just say that, three listens into this, you may still be wondering where these really badass parts are coming from. Spencer, what the fuck IS up?

This is definitely not Songwriting 101 territory. If you get over the titles and actually listen to “Apollo and the Buffalo and Anna Anna Anna Oh!” or  “You Go On Ahead (Trumpet Trumpet II),” you may wonder what kind of lucky maniac would construct such bizarre yet beautiful tunes and have the right people to play them along with (think ridiculously creative guitar work at. the. right. time.). I thought last year’s Wolf Parade album was great, but this is the kind of “taking it to the next level” that would make Charles Barkley proud.

But really, this review isn’t going to make any sense unless you listen to this album a few times. All I can do is ask that you do so because, all along its twisted ways (but specially toward the end), Dragonslayer rocks. This music is progressive but not “prog”, a feeling perhaps enhanced by a production that is simple, straightforward, and not the least bit flashy. The guitar – one of the single best aspects of this album – works not in front of, but side-by-side with Sunset Rubdown’s keyboards’ ensemble. The latter is not to shabby either; the main keyboard section of “Nightingale/December Song” is painfully pretty, in an early-1900s kind of way. And, to be truthful, Krug’s vocals are rather dramatic, to the point that some listeners may not be able to take seriously. That will be a shame, because in this context they work wonders in enhancing the overall epic feel of the album.
It really comes down to this: the feeling you get when you listen to the goddamn-awesome end of “Dragon’s Lair”, the album’s closing track, will prove that Dragonslayer is worthy of both your time and a fuckin’ repeat. If you make it through the whole thing and that doesn’t hit you, it’s because you are clearly not a champion.

LISTEN TO THIS IF YOU LIKE: Wolf Parade, The Decemberists, the idea of Arcade Fire playing Tool songs.

Gotta love the logo.

Wilco pulls off a miracle right off the bat by opening its seventh studio album (not counting the Mermaid Avenue records with Billy Bragg) with the infamously titled “Wilco (The Song)” which, miraculously, does NOT come out as conceded or even silly, but rather as a good ol’ fashioned romp (albeit with some non-traditional guitar work). Like many other songs on this record, it would have comfortably fit into Summerteeth or another one of the band’s earlier albums. The strong opener is followed by the psychedelic – if there was ever a good connotation for the term, it applies to this song – “Deeper Down”, and the epic, instant-classic “One Wing”, a tune that manages to bring together many of Wilco’s most notorious qualities (inventive drumming, clean and tuneful guitars, melancholy vocal lines, overall old school feel).

By the time the experimental, mildly disturbing “Bull Black Nova” and simple, efficient Feist duet “You and I” come around, you get the feeling that Jeff Tweedy has taken his band exactly where he wanted: if Sky Blue Sky was a laborious listen, it was a necessary step toward a direction Wilco (The Album) is closer to perfecting. The “dad rock” vibe is certainly there, and there is no indication it will be going away anytime soon; this is perhaps best exemplified when, halfway through the album, Tweedy’s “I don’t care anymore” is coupled with a droplet of realism: “but you never know.”

Wilco‘s second half is nearly as strong, featuring “Country Disappeared”, the kind of mandatory self-hating, heart-wrenching ballad Tweedy delivers better than most of his contemporaries; the perfect-pop with an alt-country feel “I’ll Fight”; and the oddly nostalgic closer “Everlasting.”  Don’t be surprised if, at that point, you feel compelled to start the whole thing over.

In a way, it’s inevitable that some critics will label this record as too safe; conversely, the great thing about this album is the fact that Tweedy seems remarkably comfortable with the group’s sound, to the point Wilco (The Album) sounds almost effortless. In this release, they are not a band trying to push their boundaries, but rather a veteran act preserving their territory with a solid set of songs – much like what Radiohead did with 2007′s In Rainbows. A great album.

FOR FANS OF: Neil Young, My Morning Jacket, Feist, The Band

No, she doesn't live in Grand Rapids.

At first glance, the Bat for Lashes’ sophomore album is a tough sell: what is up with THAT cover? If such silly art-school photography experiment is an indicator of how half-assed this record is going to sound, listeners must be in for a clunker. Luckily for those who choose to take that next step, when it comes to making music Natasha Khan (the real person behind Bat for Lashes) comes out less like a poseur and more like the real deal.

The primary reference point of Two Suns‘ sound has to be Kate Bush. Just as Bush was originally “discovered” by Pink Floyd’s David Gilmour, Khan received the Radiohead seal of approval when she was picked to open for them during their last European trek. Like Bush, Khan’s vocals also feel at home regardless of the minimalism or grandiosity of her songs’ arrangements: whether it’s the bare piano of “Moon and Moon” and the superb “Travelling Woman” or Two Suns’ denser highlights such as “Daniel” or “Glass”, her vocals remain the music’s focal point.

Bat for Lashes brings to mind other notorious female performers, notably PJ Harvey and Tori Amos, yet she rarely sounds like a copycat/rip-off of her predecessors (though I swear there’s a tune that sounds like “Siren Song” on Little Earthquakes). Aided both by the variety of its arrangements and the technological competence with which they are recorded, Two Suns sounds sharp, interesting, and unique: it’s not exactly an electronic album, nor is it easily qualifiable as pop, rock, or even “indie” (for the sake of making up a genre, how about “fantasy goth pop”?). Instead, it falls into the thankfully blurry “good music” category.

With plenty of idyosincratic moments, Two Suns surely won’t please everybody – if “Daniel” doesn’t do it for you, I’m not sure what will. Conversely, this is a difficult album to dismiss as “total crap”: despite its questionable outer appearance, this is at the very least a well-crafted and -executed record. Personally, this is the best thing I’ve heard so far in 2009.

FOR FANS OF: Bjork, Kate Bush, Tori Amos, PJ Harvey, The Knife / Fever Ray.

Liz Harris is the one-woman dreamer that makes up Grouper.  Through Grouper’s haunting Dragging a Dead Deer Up a Hill, Harris swoons in and out of consciousness and allows listeners to sleepwalk inside of the beautiful world that she has created.

I must admit that I did not find myself drawn to this record upon first listens.  It felt boring and the tracks sounded redundant.  Thankfully, I gave this amazing album another shot a couple of months later.

The record is most likely an ode to sleep, where the stresses of the world don’t have to follow us, and we can dream of happier places.  Similar to dreams, the album is built upon hazy imagery while Harris surrounds the listener with her beautiful melodies.  ”Wind And Snow” is a great example of Harris’ wondrous melodies, which drive the song for the first part.  If “Wind And Snow” was completely a-capella, I would love it the same amount as I do now.

Harris’ whisper vocal and faded guitar drives the album.  Listen to “We’ve All Gone to Sleep” or “When We Fall” in the dark and you will literally lose yourself in Grouper and become blanketed with her foggy brilliance.  If you haven’t heard Dragging a Dead Deer Up a Hill yet, please do.  It is a rewarding, comforting and worthwhile journey and is one of the best albums from last year.

Metal-folk or medieval prog?

It doesn’t take much digging to realize that, even in the midst of the digital revolution, the concept of a “concept-album” is alive and well. Green Day likes the idea so much that they’re aiming for a repeat this summer with American Idiot‘s follow-up. Coheed & Cambria is apparently putting out boxsets. Neil Young has written a whole record about electric cars from the ’50s.

With all this in mind, the fact that the new Decemberists (whose leader, Colin Meloy, has always been prone to epic storytelling) is essentially a single prog-rock song broken into 17-tracks is not all that surprising. The real clincher is that this 52-plus minute song actually ROCKS and, at certain precious times, calls for some (almost) serious headbanging. The album has ’70s Rush stamped all over (not that 2112 and Hemispheres ever sounded this graceful). “A Bower Scene” and “The Queen’s Rebuke/The Crossing” wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for Black Sabbath and Deep Purple; “Won’t Want for Love” made me fondly recall Therion and The Gathering (I know, right, who the fuck is that); the highlight ” The Wanting Comes in Waves/Repaid” brings down the house under the weight of guest singer Shara Worden (My Brightest Diamond) belting out like a female Freddie Mercury.

At this point I must admit I have no clue what the record’s storyline is about. I haven’t paid much attention to the lyrics, but apparently it has to do with baby-killing queens or something like that. It really doesn’t matter: if it sounds epic then it’s epic, and while I’m sure at some point I’ll sit down with the booklet and follow the plot, but until then I expect to be fully entertained by Hazards soft-then-heavy progressions, excellent guest vocalists, and overall grandiose demeanor. The record even pulls the dirty trick of recurring musical themes (the title track appears several times, and other bits and pieces come back around as well) that incidentally saves it from sagging in the middle like so many other ambitious prog records (think Mars Volta’s Frances The Mute), adding a whole new meaning to the term “replay value.”

By muscle alone, The Hazards of Love overpowers other Decemberists albums; it also happens to be superior in songcraft and ambition. Half-brilliant, half-mediocre works such as Picaresque and Castaways and Cutouts did yield better singles (there is nothing here that beats “Leslie Ann Levine” or “We Both Go Down Together”), but as full record, Hazards stands out as the Decemberists’ best.

LISTEN TO THIS IF YOU LIKE: old Rush, Queen, Black Sabbath, Pink Floyd, …and late-90s Gothic Metal?

Optical illusion included.

I know I start half of my reviews this way, but here it is: I didn’t care much for Animal Collective prior to this release. Yes, I did enjoy Panda Bear’s solo outing, 2007′s Person Pitch; and no, I have not heard every single A.C.  album (I tried their last two, Feels and Strawberry Jam; they left me bored and annoyed, respectively).

All in all, there was no indication I would be able to enjoy Merriweather Post Pavilion. That the album was already being hailed as a masterpiece weeks prior to its street date certainly didn’t help. But hell, I gave it a try, and while it would take me a few listens to get into several of the tracks, MPP did provide a good deal of instant pleasures: “My Girls” and  “Summertime Clothes” are catchy from the get-go, smartly positioned early into the album.

The more I came back for those two songs, the more chances the rest of the album had to develop. Scaringly enough, the whole thing started to sound really damn good. “Bluish” developed into a groovy, almost dance-y number; “Brothersport” became a carnival in the basement. From beginning to end, MPP presents itself as a densely layered album that hits you when you least expect – whether it’s the strange sounds, the slowly revealing melodies or the down-to-earth lyrics, there is enough material here to keep the listener coming back for a long time (at least until the summer!).

If you have never heard them and are expecting this review to provide you an idea of what A.C. sounds like, then you’re in a fucking rut. Thankfully, it’s not just random noise (though you wonder what the hell they are using to make those sounds). I can’t call them electronic music (which they partly are), much less pop music (though it is certainly catchy at times). It’s definitely not classic rock, but you can hear 1960s-influenced melodies in many of the tracks. Calling it experimental is equally silly, particularly because these guys have had 7 or 8 albums’ worth of material to try things out – at this point in their career, A.C. doesn’t sound like they’re experimenting anything, but rather consolidating what they’ve been building all along.

Based on my experience (listening to their last few albums) and research (reading about the handful of older ones), MPP is definitely Animal Collective’s most accessible work. Conversely, that in itself doesn’t make it an easy listen: this is pop music from the future, except the future is now and this will never be all that widely popular either. This is a remarkably unique group – something that often worked against them, in my opinion – and MPP is arguably their definitive statement; it’s too early to tell if this belongs up there with Kid A and Is This It? among the most iconic records of this decade, but they sure tried their best to make a case.

FOR FANS OF: hell do I know.