Andrew W.K. - Close Calls With Brick Walls

Universal
Released: September 25, 2006

Andrew W.K., with his debut record, I Get Wet, was heralded as a savior of rock. Every song was a fist pumping anthem, flawlessly reducing the ambitious studio tricks and masterful composition of Queen to the stupidity of AC/DC. The follow-up, the Wolf, turned the volume up, but lost all the naive punch that made the debut so heart-warming, in turn losing its timeless optimism. Close Calls With Brick Walls takes things in new, ambitious directions. It also manages to rehash some of the old. It is a sprawling, unfocused train-wreck. That's not to say it's a bad record by any means.

The two opening tracks don't even have guitars. They're beautiful, impressionistic splashes of Andrew's now refined voice and swirling, psychedelic guitars. They are jaw-dropping and gorgeous. Then enters "Not Going to Bed," what sounds like a left-over from the previous record. The record then offers non-stop one-two punches of loud, fast neanderthal-rock, followed by what I come to the plate for every time: piano-driven sing-alongs, with soaring
guitars and pounding drums.

At this point, it seems unlikely that Andrew W.K. will ever match the heights of his debut, but if he manages to focus in on the new direction he offered a fleeting glimpse of at the onset of Close Calls With Brick Walls, there will still be reason to give him another try. His live show will always be worth seeing, if nothing else.

-Dave Wolkensperg

Loney, Dear - Loney, Noir

Sub Pop
Released: February 6, 2007

Emil Svanängen (aka Sweden’s Loney, Dear) is a complete pro in the art of home recording. Almost entirely alone he has created a pop orchestra of guitars, bass, drums, keyboards, saxophone, clarinet, etc. The arrangements themselves are stunning, like a peppier, glossier, more compact little brother of the Microphones the Glow Pt. 2. Here there is something for nearly everyone. You like vocal substance with falsettos, tenors, and whistles butting heads? Check. How about bubbling keyboards that rest just above the surface, lightly breathing sweet sentiments into your ears? Right here. And finally, do you like Belle and Sebastian? Ya? Buy this.

As for the merit of the songs themselves, Loney, Noir hits the bulls-eye a couple times, while being overly precious and too earnest on other occasions. “I Am John” represents the finest track on the album as well as being one of the best pop singles in years, the music growing exponentially until there are so many vocal parts your head spins from overindulgence. Creating greatness with the little details – a single drum roll at the 2:57 mark, a barely audible, fuzzy keyboard rhythm Brian Eno would endorse – Svanängen knows what he’s doing, and it infects you with vivacity.

But it is short lived because the following track, “Saturday Waits,” is simply just not a good song at its core. Here his falsetto is inappropriate, grinding eardrums down to their base, and adding a hundred other instruments can’t fix that. Still, as is the case with all the slip ups of Loney, Noir, it is more forgettable than hateable.

There are other complaints to be made also, such as the lack of identity of the individual songs, aside from “I Am John.” It really feels like a Swedish pop record (which, well, it is) with the songs bleeding together too much. Nevertheless, Svanängen’s talent is outrageous and the not-so-thin line between innocuous and exuberant is one that he’s bound to cross more consistently.

-Kent Thompson

Dosh - The Lost Take

Anticon
Released: October 17, 2006

As more hip-hop acts expand their horizons to include elements of electronica, the aesthetics and attitude of indie rock and a progressive sense of experimentation, a new undefinable genre is gradually emerging. Anticon veteran Dosh's latest release, "The Lost Take", fits the bill as a noteworthy member of this recent phenomenon. Though the album has lofty goals, its aimlessness is the real pleasure: After only a few tracks, it's clear that Dosh isn't concerned with creating an easily classifiable listening experience. Instead, the multi-instrumentalist combines loose samples and jazzy carefree drumming with an impressive ensemble of talented live musicians, adding guitar, bells, and saxophone to the mix.

The most notable guest spot belongs to Andrew Bird, whose looped violin contributions infuse volume into each track until they're eventually overpowered by an always-changing backdrop of ethereal sounds and lush instrumentation. While the melodies ramble along without interruption, they typically leave each song feeling like a beautiful picture going in and of focus, always staying fuzzy and warm. Some tracks end up sounding like the rebellious bastard child of Chuck Mangione and Janis Joplin, almost lite-jazz but decidedly cool. Other tracks wouldn't feel out of place on Manitoba's "Up In Flames" or Four Tet's "Rounds", densely layered but also loose and compromising.

"There was some planning, initially," Dosh commented in a Daytrotter interview. "I knew I wanted to have more live drums on the record, I knew I wanted to use a Chamberlain and a Mellotron, and I wanted it to sound more 'band-y' than my other records. Aside from those general plans, just about everything was developed as I recorded the album." For all practical purposes, Dosh is a one-man band, having recorded 85% of "The Lost Take" alone before allowing friends (including Tapes 'n' Tapes' Erik Applewick) to flesh it out. Regardless of which section at Ear-X-Tacy you can find it, Dosh's uncategorizable sound hints at the future of music in general-- an all-encompassing, wide-spectrum view of what is, what isn't, and what can be.

-Brandon Bass

Andrew Bird - Armchair Apocrypha

Fat Possum
Released: March 20, 2007

I am sorry that I start so many of my reviews with personal anecdotes, but there is absolutely no way I can write this without telling you this brief story. One time, I touched Andrew Bird. It was my senior year of high school, he gave a free concert at the public library, and I talked with him after the show. I touched his corduroy-blazer-clad right elbow with my left hand. It was amazing. It was sort of like Michelangelo painting in which Adam is touching the hand of God, only better because we had on much snappier outfits.

Despite my deification of said musician, let it be known that the Chicago-based Andrew Bird is a truly unusual character. He’s been a Squirrel Nut Zipper, he’s been signed to Ani DiFranco’s label, Righteous Babe, for some time. He is perennially described as a New Weird American, like Espers or Vetiver, and, when asked, tells anyone who will listen that he is a professional whistler. A.B.’s biography doesn’t even scratch the surface of the curious music he crafts. At once quirky and catchy, he has created an odd niche for himself. With his rococo arrangements and cerebral lyric topics, it would be easy to categorize him as yet another pretentious indie act, but his work is so fun that it is impossible to fault him for his use of SAT vocabulary and excessive use of his looper.

His most recent record (and first real solo work), 2005’s Andrew Bird and the Mysterious Production of Eggs, garnered massive critical acclaim. For good reason, too; A.B. is a conservatory-trained violinist, truly astounding whistler, and in possession of the most bizarrely compelling voice known to man.

His latest record, Armchair Apocrypha, draws on all of his previous skills, but refines them. Gone is the jumpy, unsettling quality of previous records. Here, it’s replaced by a more restrained sound. It’s a more mature record, one that is more accessible, largely because it’s a little less subtle that previous efforts. When listening to old Andrew Bird records, you have to listen closely; the beauty is in the slight intricacies he slips in here and there. Armchair Apocrypha demands less of the listener but doesn’t abandon his commitment to excellent musicianship, complex arrangements, and lyrical density.

The record opens with the strange image of “Lou Dobbs on CNN” in the excited-sounding “Fiery Crash” and only expands from there. The record just gets better and better; references to Nietzsche, upper-level biology, and Roman Catholic dogma abound, enriched by intense violining and cheerful, birdlike whistling. Unlike prior records, though, this Armchair Apocrypha never gets quite so frenetic. There’s a degree of refinement here that has previously been missing. This is not to say that there was anything sloppy about his prior efforts (anything but, really), but that A.B. has taken his craft to a height I hadn’t previously imagined.

In this, his thirty-fourth year of life, Andrew Bird has finally found the maturity that he’s been seeking throughout his years as a freak-folk/nouveau-swing/pro-whistling artist. It’s here that he truly seems to have come into his own.

Armchair Apocrypha could well be the theme song to the Book of Revelation; at any time, you can feel warranted in feeling confused. At times, there’s no sense to be made of what he’s saying. Like the seven-sealed document God will give to man to signal the pinnacle of existence, so has Andrew Bird given us the apex of his creative talent. There’s really nothing more to be said on the topic, save that I touched The Andrew Bird. I’m thinking of donating my hand to the yet-uncreated Indie Rock Museum of History as a relic. After all, without that elbow, the man would never have been able to play the glockenspiel nearly this well.

-Kirsten Schofield

Bill Callahan - Woke On A Whaleheart

Drag City
Released: April 24, 2007

My favorite part of CDs, a lot of times, is their cover art. Sometimes, I buy things solely based on their cover art. You will understand, then, why it really upsets me when the cover art of a record doesn’t really match what’s inside. As an Elephant Six enthusiast, I will pretty much buy any record that looks like it was designed by a six year old on LSD. Hopefully, this will give you enough background to understand why I was extremely saddened to hear Woke on a Whaleheart.

There’s nothing wrong with this CD. Nothing at all. In fact, if it had just had a picture of an egg timer or something on the cover, I probably would have liked it (it falls into the category of singer-songwriter music that I find tolerable. Bill Callahan has a gravelly voice, and likes to play the mandolin sometimes.). I just feel like, given its title, its design, and its song titles, that Bill Callahan is misrepresenting his own music. With songs called “A Man Needs A Woman or A Man to Be A Man”, you expect the sound awaiting you to be something really quirky. You’re sort of expecting someone to play a saw or a melodica or a recorder. You are not expecting this country-tinged pop-rock. No, you are not.

So, if you buy Woke on a Whaleheart, go into it knowing what you are going to get. You are going to get some highly satisfactory rock music that is nice to listen to while you whittle or do laundry. Don’t expect Dusk at Cubist Castle, because that’s just not what you bought.

-Kirsten Schofield

Sloan - Never Hear The End Of It

Yep Roc Records
Released: January 9, 2007

During the summer of 2005, the only conversation I had, and I had it many, many times, was the I-can’t-wait-to-hear-the-new-Posies-album conversation. I decided not to buy Every Kind of Light until July 4th, when I would be able to listen to it with Jason, the only person I know who was as excited as I was. I couldn’t stick to it. I craved the vocal rhythms and guitar mastery. So when I showed up at a party on the 4th, Jason and I immediately began yelling about how indescribably disappointing it was. Finally in the winter of 2006, I found the Posies album I wanted hidden between other tracks of Sloan’s newest album, Never Hear the End of It.

Sloan packs 30 songs onto Never Hear the End of It. By stringing together three or four songs at a time with no time lapsed between tracks, they manage not to overburden you. If you’re listening to it on an iPod, you’ll hear the space between each song, but the album should be listened to on a CD player, allowing the songs to flow seamlessly in groups. Most songs are catchy, lodging themselves deep in your mind where they show up a week later. There are few missteps. “Listen to the Radio” uses an annoying vocal effect the band hijacked from a Cher or post-British Madonna song. “Someone I Can Be True With” soon reclaims the pop-rock rush, giving you repetitive acoustic guitars, handclaps, and synth strings as it falls into the piano driven “Right or Wrong.”

With thirty songs, you’d expect a lot more filler, but with most songs last no more than 2 and a half minutes, anything that doesn’t seem genuine is quickly forgotten in the rush. Sloan has made several albums of blended harmonies and forceful lead guitars, if you’re not a fan already, this is as good a place as any to get converted.

-Matt Thompson

Six Parts Seven - Casually Smashed Top Pieces

Suicide Squeeze
Released: January 23, 2007

The Six Parts Seven have always been recognized for their dense guitar interplay, including the subtle coloring of a lap steel, but Casually Smashed To Pieces has weaved in even more, including abstracted horns, a graceful Fender Rhodes, and even a touch of distortion. They haven’t changed musical direction so much as they have grown more confident, thus allowing for the emergence of techniques and instruments that don’t often find a home on instrumental indie-rock records. The end result is striking, with notes and drum strokes appearing like illusions, blushing listeners nerves.

“Stolen Moments” is the finest track start to finish, with trumpet, coronet, and clarinet sailing over guitar and keyboard fills. As all the notes begin to sweep together over the steady and soft drumming, our own nostalgia becomes vital to the music, liberally instituting each listener into the fold. And as the record moves on, there are moments of surprising aggression (“Knock At My Door”), impeccable pop structuring (“Falling Over Evening”), and bouncy resolution (“Everything Wrong Is Right Again”). It is in motion throughout, benign and swift in communicating many relatable sentiments.

Casually Smashed To Pieces is a narrative with deviating elucidation and varying effect. Beautiful and kindly combative, it draws blood from our memories, swelling and deflating as each track ends like our final conscious thought before falling asleep. It is a unique collaboration with the listener, rewarding in every second it sits with you.

-Kent Thompson

Xiu Xiu - The Air Force

5RC
Released: 09.12.06

Both musically and lyrically Xiu Xiu should bother you. Their albums are darker than the inside of the coffin you are buried alive in during your worst nightmare. They create a collage of sounds and visions communicated direct from purgatory with several flashes of hell thrown in for balance.

Musically they engage in moments of quiet simplicity as well as roaring complex orchestration, similarly narrating in both whispers and sonorous yelps. Thematically, The Air Force is a mash of bizarre sexual deviancy, human morality, and howling depression. Primary member and songwriter Jamie Stewart does all of this without swimming around much in understated or metaphorical conflict. Rather it is harsh and frighteningly heartfelt.

Opener “Buzz Saw” states this from the outset, landing like a three minute sucker punch to the stomach. Once you’ve regained your breath you realize how profoundly you believe Stewart when he sings “I’m not like that.” In fact, you will believe all of The Air Force because lies are not expressed with such absorption.

“Vultures Piano” stakes claims as another album highlight, containing a surprising dance hook along with firework snapping percussion. Stewart puts an exclamation point at the end of the track by quickly spelling out the song title, followed by a couple aggressive hoots and a sharp whistle.

Still, the album’s finest confession might come in the form of “The Pineapple vs. the Watermelon,” an apparent autobiographical account of Stewart’s experience and understanding of his father’s suicide. Over a subtle, stripped down tone of guitar and bass, Stewart explains that “Someone felt something pure / And told it all to you / That was why you killed yourself / To prove it wasn’t true.” Somehow Stewart seems to both soar and crash here, feeling liberated enough to discuss it but too distraught to accept it.

Many of the reasons Xiu Xiu succeed are precisely the reasons they can be criticized. It is obscenely earnest. The music seems to lose focus at times. It couldn’t possibly be any more morose. But that is Jamie Stewart’s style and song to song, these are his demons wrestling with our taste and puncturing our subconscious, leading to one very simple conclusion: The Air Force is incredible.

- Kent Thompson

Three Legged Race - Mourning Order

Mountaain
Released: 2006

It's a slow slider, this one-track CDr release from Three Legged Race (aka Robert Beatty of Hair Police, Eyes and Arms of Smoke, and Nicholasville, KY). Beatty ably saunters down the line between effective transmission and numbing repetition, letting each semi-melodic synth line or shipment-bruised sample state its own case before being left behind. From a basement spook opening, it's off to the food processor buzzing in harmony with the in-sink-er-ator in the kitchen, then up through busted ceiling tiles to rat-chewed wires sparkin' in the insulation. Ever upwards: "Honey, aren't you glad we added on this second floor balcony, and the basso profundo wind chime from Keith's Hardware?" I am. But a balcony isn't the only thing to see up there. There's a kid in his bedroom bonding with some pre-disco Tangerine Dream, and in the next room Uncle Peach, whose HAM radio needs a new speaker. Robert Beatty says: "I'm trying to get more 'musical,' slowly but surely." He should say "slowly and surely."

- Aaron Rosenblum

The Slits - Revenge of the Killer Slits EP

Saf Records
Released: 10.17.06

What d'ya mean your not gonna buy the new Slits record? You like Kathleen Hanna, don't ya?

It's fair to say that the modern musical landscape would be quite different without Ari Up and the Slits. These three songs, recorded with Paul Cook (of Sex Pistols fame) and Marco Pirroni (a bit less famous, but on some fine recordings with Adam Ant, Siouxsie and the Banshees, and Sinead O'Connor), represent the range and history of the band. Sure, it's totally unfocused, but these are great songs.

"Slits Tradition", the opening track, offers the first Hanna reference. Reggae and dub (along with most of the world, for that matter) hadn't gone digital yet, so those early Slits recordings were more of a Lee Perry production than a Taxi-era Sly and Robbie. This is their update, and there couldn't have been a more natural progression. And, coincidentally, it sounds a helluva a lot like Le Tigre's first record.

Hanna reference #2 (there are only 3 songs, so it had to come soon): "Number One Enemy" is pulled from the pre-Cut vaults. The Slits started in 1976, before they could play their instruments (famously asking Mick Jones to tune their guitars on a '77 Clash tour they were on). The only recordings from this period are some John Peel appearances. By 1979 (when Cut was recorded), they had progressed into their trademark sound. This is pure punk, proto-riot grrrl. Bikini Kill would've worshiped on this altar. And Ari Upp's voice holds its own after all these years, particularly on the call to arms and shriek that opens the track: "'76! The Slits! Number One Enemy! YAAAHHH!!!" All beautifully drenched in dirty spring reverb.

The final song, "Kill Them with Love", is back to basics. It sports some more digital production, but even with this, it could easily fit in on Cut.

This'll be on my regular play-list for some time.

- Dave Wolkensperg

Television Personalities - My Dark Place

Domino
Released: 03.21.06

Does knowledge of who an artist is affect the way we hear the music? I'd say there are three categories to the answer. Robert Johnson would still be the first recorded bluesman to play with a powerful, driving rhythm even if no one knew the myth of his deal with the devil. His life simply adds to his legacy. Syd Barrett's music begs the listener to ask the question, "What turmoil was going on in this guy's head?" The music and the artist are so wholly intertwined that the question becomes irrelevant. Then there's something like Eric Clapton. Songs like 'Layla' and 'Tears in Heaven' are always accompanied by "It's about George Harrison's wife," or "It's about his son dying." The stories serve no real purpose, but they're always there.

The Television Personalities leader, Dan Treacy, has a story unlike anyone else. But let's see how the music holds up on its own. Unless, of course, it falls into that second category.

Uncompromising in every way, My Dark Places is quintessentially British. It is unashamedly moody to the point of sounding like a desperate cry for help at times, but then quickly moving into playful, childish odes to boyhood heroes. It is musically dissonant with little sense of release from the cacophony. Treacy does no favors for anyone.

Without question, the highlight of the record is 'Velvet Underground.' This song couldn't sound any more unlike its subject. An up-tempo vaudevillian piano melody drives the song, with fake horns adding color sporadically, sometimes borrowing the melody of 'Here Comes the Bride' for no apparent reason. "The eighth mystery of the world I've found, How did the Velvet Underground get that sound," repeats, like everything in the song, sporadically, along with, "Don't sit under the apple tree with anyone but Lou Reed." The verses are just Treacy rambling about "how did they get it? I thought we had it." Like I said, this is the highlight of the record.

In the past 35 years, Treacy and company have made some of the most inspired music on record. At times - particularly 1984’s The Painted Word - Treacy has fallen into that second category with powerful results. My Dark Places teeters on that brink, but there is a self-consciousness that has never interfered with a TVPs records before this one. Treacy’s story is worth investigating for anyone who’s asked the question posed at the start of the review.

- Dave Wolkensperg

Inca Ore with Lemon Bear's Orchestra - The Birds in the Bushes

5RC
Released: 08.22.06

If Eva Saelens (aka Inca Ore) shows up at your house, expect her to pull all of the pots and pans out of the cabinet, and beat on them while she meows, stutters in nonsense languages, and chatters like a territorial squirrel. Expect her to demand your attention as she berates you one minute and strokes your head the next. You'll want to throw her out, but you won't, because even though Inca Ore comes across as a total head case when you first meet her, a few minutes later you'll realize that she's a complicatedly interesting head case.

On Inca Ore's second album, The Birds in the Bushes, she recruits the help of Lemon Bear to create eleven songs that invoke a wide range of emotions. This is Inca Ore and Lemon Bear's true talent. They'll set up the sounds of an entire garden of flowers facing the sun while ants carry leaves and bees gather pollen. Somewhere in the garden there is a deadly fight. We hear the loser's screams and the winner's triumph. The result is unfocused but complete. It's like listening in on every apartment on a city block. Love, hate, anger, happiness, sadness are all around us all the time; this album tries to show all of them taking place at the same time.

The Birds in the Bushes isn't an album made for most people. More interesting than enjoyable, you have to give it your full attention and several listens before you appreciate it. Even after you've discovered what makes it great, you'll probably only pull it out to make your friends listen to a track or two.

- Matt Thompson

Faun Fables - The Transit Rider

Drag City
Released: 05.16.06

Dawn McCarthy created The Transit Rider, an ambitious theatrical production of an original song cycle, from her experiences on the New York subway system in the 1990s. The physical stage is set to resemble a light-rail train, with a row of chairs along a wall and images created by visual artist Eric S. Koziel appearing out of framed window space. As each actor reaches their “stop,” they perform a song into a microphone located in front of the train door and then exit the stage. The story is an arcane, fantastical journey in which McCarthy often interacts with a chilling train conductor and is unsure of how or where to find her stop.

Early on, the accompanying album works, with McCarthy leading us through a plot introduction in “Transit Theme,” followed by easily one of the finest versions of “House Carpenter” ever recorded. Here her voice floats over our heads and her thespian presence redefines one of our finest traditional songs. However, after the first three tracks, starting with “In Speed,” the vocal contributions of second Fable, Nils Frykdahl, become more prominent. This is a disaster. His habitation here is the equivalent of eating ten Twinkies in one sitting. It’s too much of a bad thing. All the fluff is then exposed, including a mildly funky schlock catastrophe (“The Questioning) and a couple boring folk prances (“Roadkill,” “Earth’s Kiss”).

In its most interesting form, The Transit Rider is to be seen as well as heard. Unfortunately though, theatricality tends to exasperate when not provided with all your senses (sight in this case). So rather than having a peculiar, yet cohesive performance art piece, we are given a rather lengthy and exposed mistake. Even as McCarthy begins to smuggle her extraordinary voice into our progressive sensors, it is again displaced out by the presence of Frykdahl’s operatic rankness.

As a performance, The Transit Rider has received remarkable praise, with one personal friend even calling it, “the most direct and sensational piece of art I can ever remember seeing.” Well, The Transit Rider may indeed be a brilliant or at least engrossing production, but as a record it begins to spoil and the whole encouraging and exciting concept of it eventually shits itself.

- Kent Thompson

Akron/Family - Meek Warrior

Young God records
Released: 10.03.06

This, the newest Akron/Family odyssey, is possibly the most beautiful and non-cohesive record of the year. One moment it’s taking a hatchet to your leg and the next it’s warmly embracing your entire body with pillow arms. Dear lord it’s a charming formula.

All four members share vocal duties throughout, often crossing and connecting their voices in chants, yelps, and lullabies. Whether it’s in the context of a dense psychedelic outcry (“The Rider”) or an acoustic hymnal (“Love and Space”), it is these mingling voices that keeps Meek Warrior sharp, jubilant, and overwhelmingly entertaining throughout.

Opener “Blessing Force” is the busiest tune, switching direction numerous times, the whole while abusing scatterbrained guitars and downright filthy percussive rhythms courtesy of master free jazz drummer Hamid Drake. Again, the vocals are a playful masterpiece in their own right, sounding like harmonized playground laughter. The song begins by luring like a post rock bender, and then switches into a bizarre vocal call, then a natural, straight rock surge, followed by an Afro beat percussive breakdown before finally settling on and ending with a noisy free for all. In fact, there is so much jaw dropping stuff in this first track that it leaves your brain violated. The rest of the album serves as the not-so-logical but entirely wonderful explanation for this feeling.

After “Blessing Force” we are shown a different side of our new lover. They throw us a delicately layered acoustic piece (“Gone Beyond”), followed by the perky and magnetic psychobabble of the titled track. Through the fog we stumble upon more fog, courtesy of the gorgeous drone and percussive takeover of “No Space in This Realm.” Here, right at the mid-point and high point of Meek Warrior, we are defenseless.

If listened to carefully, Meek Warrior can serve as a medley of life moments, combining into one your first kiss, a car wreck, that wonderful drug experience, this unforgettable party, a time you screamed into a pillow, and so on. It’s a vivid canvas. Stare at it as long as you can.

- Kent Thompson

Dmonstrations - Night Trrors, Schock!

GSL
Release Date: 10.17.06

The truth about reviewing handfuls of CDs in a brief period of time is that after 1 or 2, said reviewer starts to realize how short life is. CDs begin to fall into 1 of 2 categories: 1) discs that immediately grab attention and never let up, and 2) Rhett Miller. The incorrectly spelled Dmonstrations is the kind of band that makes you dance in your seat before you even realize that you are moving your cheese-filled American ass. And by dance, I'm referring to the Captain Beefheart, Pere Ubu, Boredoms type.

- Peter Berkowitz

Warmer Milks - Radish on Light

Troubleman Unlimited
Released: 09.12.06

When Warmer Milks put out their Early Castles CDR a few years ago, I fell in love with its vaguely psychedelic, vaguely folk tunes within a few listens. Not immediately accessible, it does take a few listens. But those who stuck it out through unexplained 7-minute silences and the breaking off mid-song when a string goes out of tune found some seductive and contemplative songs. Never the type to retrace their steps, they moved on with gusto, making a half-hour hypnotic jam of Penetration Initials, the tape manipulations of Aja Braun that I’m pretty sure consisted mostly of burps, farts, and gargling, and a harshly chaotic group of songs (frankly, I’m not even sure what it’s called since there wasn’t any indication and I was half-drunk when I got it at a show) that I could only describe as summoning the devil and raping him. It seemed that every time I looked them up, Warmer Milks were handing around new recordings that varied greatly from each other. And each one was fully realized. There was no half-assing about it. Warmer Milks was all about commitment.

So it’s a little disappointing to find out that Warmer Milks is no more. Still, they’ve left us the most proper of their releases, Radish on Light on Troubleman. Don’t be disappointed that there are only four songs. Each one packs a wallop, sounding like the basement recordings of a post-apocalyptic serial killer. Mikey T’s voice squirms over bending guitars and lackadaisical drums on “In the Fields” before screaming himself horse. “The Shark” gives us a brief rest, washing our ears with smooth noise. But not for long. Soon a beat comes into action, barely holding together a bass line that thrives in the dark corner and two guitars clanging against each other. The body is jittered by “Pentagram of Sores”’s twisted rhythms, coming across at first as a good friend and then dragging barbed wire across your back. Thank god for the healing power of a Sabbath riff that anyone can, not exactly bang your head to, but nod very aggressively. The fifteen-minute “Radish on Light” once again blows some cool air over our lobes. We needed it. Feedback surrounds us. Yes, we’ve killed you, but it we did it out of love. Let us wrap you in a blanket of warm fuzz and say goodnight to one of the most constantly surprising and fearless bands I’ve ever heard. There is no self-consciousness here. Sleep well.

- Matt Thompson

Joanna Newsom - Ys

Drag City
Released: 11.14.06

With her new record, Joanna Newsom has expanded how she as a songwriter works. While her 2004 breakthrough Milk Eyed Mender was a brilliant 12 song folk/pop record that happened to be written and performed with a harp, Ys is an exponentially more ambitious, 5 song, 55 minute emprise. Her simple harp and vocal presentation has gained a cohort in the form of a full orchestra (even including banjo and accordion) conducted by Van Dyke Parks (Beach Boys, various TV and film scores). The orchestral elements augment the intense nature of Ys, allowing the songs to continually take a variety of forms, whether they are solemn, hyper, violent, etc. For instance, on the nearly 17 minute “Only Skin,” the string and brass backing builds with the hectic drama of Newsom’s harp, making it both anxious and fun. It steers this epic lyrical creation (199 unrepeated lines!) away from becoming tedious and instead affords it the title of unforgettable.

And then there’s Newsom’s voice, a tool so far beyond even astonishing that its force calls to mind unspeakable images of beauty and brutality rather than cheap musical comparisons. On Ys, like Milk Eyed Mender, every sharp pronunciation and each unorthodox stanza spits and kisses with styled confidence. Furthermore, her lyrics themselves are fantastical tales of people, animals, and places we might not understand, but the fashion in which the words bounce off of each other, with clever and emotive agility, is reminiscent of nothing before it.

For an album of only 5 songs, there are countless highlights, none the least of which is “Sawdust and Diamonds.” This is the lone track Newsom performs without Van Dyke’s arrangements, articulating only with her harp strokes and magnetic delivery. It’s the type of song that anyone anywhere can hear and feel something deeply personal. As she sings “I will swallow your sadness, and eat your cold clay, just to lift your long face,” the morrow in our bones boils; our guts shake. Yes, it is perfect because nothing else is this original, charming, or affecting.

There are not enough superlatives in the world to describe Joanna Newsom and Ys. Still, this is the greatest album of 2006, by our finest, most talented modern songwriter. That should be enough.

-Kent Thompson

My Morning Jacket - Okonokos

RCA/ATO
Released 09.26.06

My Morning Jacket is a live band. Or, they always had been. Then Z came out. It was critically acclaimed and generally loved by their fans, but it was also a huge sonic departure. The greatest change was a focus on studio craft. Their earlier albums were very much natural recordings, capturing the players in their live element. Was Z such a studio-based album that the songs couldn't survive live? Not only does Okonokos confirm that the songs from Z can sound just as impressively epic on the stage as on record, but by including a good deal of older material, it lays bare that though the band has gone through some eclectic changes, these songs can work together as a magnificent whole. That being said, the 2 discs of Okonokos almost work as two different documents of an event. On the first disc, the band follows their recorded work almost to a T. The songs sound like what you've heard on the records. The second disc, starts with "Dondante", which singer Jim James strips to its emotional core. The disc continues to let loose, with the band subtly reinterpreting bits and pieces of familiar songs, though always keeping the basics intact. For someone who hasn't seen the band for a few years, I left the record promising myself I would make a point not to miss them again.

-Dave Wolkensperg

The Evens - Get Even

Dischord Records
Released: 10.18.06

Ian Mackaye is all grown up and he plays sitting down now as the strumming half of The Evens.

But the fire is still there and though the lyrics and instrumentation both are more direct, stripped down, a pillowcase next to Fugazi's tapestry, the stitches are still tight --how corny, right-- and their second album Get Evens makes your room a little better to be in.

Mackaye's jangly syncopated change-ups are there, though he lingers more in the slow melodious realm, singing more than yelling, strumming more than assaulting, though there's some of that too. And let's not forget The Evens' other half, Amy Farina who not only lays down some snappy drum action, but awful strong, purdy vocals to boot.

A lot of the album is overtly political with jabs at Bush like, 'everybody knows you are a liar', 'you're fired!', and 'your plate is overflowing, can't you see you've had enough' peppered throughout. This would be distracting if they weren't so damned earnest. When trying to get a singalong going at The Evens' show at St. John's Church last month, Mackaye implored the small audience, 'come on now, nobody try to be cool.' This totally unhip sincerity (singalongs at a show! huh?) comes through on the album, and whether or not you voted on the 7th, or like Fugazi, or shop at Diesel, or whatever, the uptempo optimism of Get Evens might just make you smile.

It's not Fugazi nor is it Anti Flag and it's certainly not 'Ian Mackaye's new side project', it's just two friends making music together. Aw.

- Nathan Tempey

El Perro Del Mar - s/t

The Control Group
Released: 05.30.06

Some of my favorite pop music ever has come out of Sweden (Abba, Eggstone, and Dungen). I hold Swedish pop music to a higher standard than most. And even for a self-confessed Swedophile like myself, I have to give this album two opposable thumbs up – but for completely different reasons than I like most Swedish music. I was singing along with the opening track “Candy” before the end of the first listen. Vocal melody seems to be where the Swedes soar, but El Perro del Mar (translation “Sea Dog”) adds a refreshing twist with a production style that sounds more like quintessential American “wall of sound” than it does any of the obvious earlier Swedish influences. Press for El Perro Del Mar always points to her Motown and Spector girl group influence. It is there no doubt. But I find myself trying to imagine this album coming out in the early 60’s. The lyrical content is way too melodramatic, and even tragicomic, to have been on the radio in the 60’s – even too revisionist girl group and un-commercial to be on the radio in 2006 for that matter. Heartbreak and misery haven’t felt this good in a while. I would recommend for fans of Motown girl groups, Broadcast, and Joanna Newsom- and some Neil Young fans as well.

- Jeremy Midkiff

Detective Kalita - The Michael Parks

Kelp Records
Released: 05.23.06

First, let’s get it straight. You might be confused by the cover. Many people are. The band’s name is Detective Kalita. The album is called The Michael Parks.

Combining the laid back pop elements of the Flaming Lips and Pavement, DK has made one of the most enjoyable albums of the year. Opener Altona MB beings with an acoustic guitar and some slight tinges of psychdelia. By the time the backing vocals creep in, the music has already become personal and caring, evoking images of “a prairie town with a small town feel.” The next two songs show another side of DK. “The 8:45’s” is stripped down, and “Mary 16” is an all-out minute-nineteen-second party. There’s no fighting here, just spastic dancing and mildly drunken gropes. “Waking Up Is Hard To Do” evokes early morning feelings of nostalgia and love upon finding your girl/boyfriend has already left the bed. “Coupling Un-coupling” has a late-Sebadoh Lou Barlow feel that makes you move your ass and shake your shoulders. “Best Man Blues” displays a certain humor that’s present throughout the album. Kicking off with a quick guitar riff, the vocals come in “All your fucking life you said you wanted more...” The result is more funny than accusatory. “Fairweather Friends” would make the best single from The Michael Parks. The bass line kicks in a manic frenzy, infecting the rest of the instruments, causing the band to clap their hands and sing with elation.

The Michael Parks is perfect for a party, but you’ll probably hit skip on a couple of the slow tracks. While in bed or the car, these more laid back tracks hold the album together. Without them, it might be too poppy. The real strength of the album is that it fits into almost any activity. Driving, absolutely. Preferably on a country road. Post-sex layabouts. Without a doubt. Cuddle up, laugh when you want to laugh, sigh when you want to sigh. Reminiscing about old friends and lovers. Go for it. There’s plenty of honest emotion in songs like “This Night” that you’ll feel someone out there understands, and that while you might be nostalgic right now, tomorrow you might be shaking it down at a party.

- Matt Thompson

Bonnie "Prince" Billy - The Letting Go

Drag City
Released: 08.29.06

Under any moniker, Will Oldham has being blowing my mind off and on for the past decade. Primarily it's always been about the lyrics for me. Whether he' s singing about fucking a mountain, being a cinematographer, or Florida's beaches, his perspective has been surprising and inspiring. The Letting Go achieves something that the other albums haven't done consistently; the music finally feels as beautiful as the words. The various instruments work harmoniously. Drums will enter from the backdoor and patiently wait their turn. Glittering keyboard will appear for a minute, do its job, and retire at just the right moment.

From the beginning, The Letting Go asserts itself as something different. The orchestral swell of "Love Comes to Me" gives way to a thoughtful acoustic strum supported by subtle cello and violin. Dawn McCarthy's (of Faun Fables) helps push Oldham's words into the ethereal world he's always shown emotionally but fallen short of aurally. "Big Friday"'s guitar plucking and slides give off a mature buzz. The musical patience is almost a defiance of youthful thoughtlessness, and as the next track, "Lay and Love," comes in, it's obvious that maturity doesn't negate experimentation. If anything, Oldham has reached a place that allows playfulness that really works.

While McCarthy's vocals add much to the music, sometimes they fog over Oldham's. This is a minor offense, and it's easy to see how it was made. With a voice as beautiful as hers, how could you not use it at every opportunity? Her Celtic charm lures you into a dreamy state, but afterwards I wondered if maybe the album's overall effect would have been better if she 'd been left off in a couple of places. Not that any one place would be obvious for omission, but the only song that she doesn't seem to dominate vocally is "Cold & Wet," one of the album's weakest moments. The fragility of Oldham's voice has always been key to the songs. It's the voice of someone who's seen a lot, and while he's gotten a little tired, he has the strength to keep going. McCarthy's compromises that a little, but it's none-the-less amazing. Given time to clear out some nostalgia for his older songs, I wouldn't be surprised if The Letting Go becomes one of my favorite albums by someone that I've always thought of as a phenomenal songwriter.

- Matt Thompson

Backyard Bangers - New Math

Hollyrock
Released: 08.29.06

Today's hip-hop is quite a bit different from the unfocused dancefloor anthems of yesteryear. At this point, we all know it's getting hot in herre, and we certainly plan to take our clothes off-- and we'd honestly prefer a little tact in your delivery, Nelly. The ubiquitous recognition of rap slang and repetitive hip-hop trends is forcing more and more producers to go against the flow of popular rap music with innovative beats and unprecedented style.

Backyard Bangers is the brainchild of L.A. producers E.Moss and TroubleMaker, who have lurked in the shadows of the Valley for several years working under a variety of monikers. What began as zip-disk trading eventually became a partnership that would lead the duo to create Hollyrock, the studio (and record label of the same name) that gave birth to New Math, their debut release. Instrumental hip-hop has earned a bad reputation as being too repetitive or unable to stand alone without the supporting cast of a quality MC. Backyard Bangers use turntablism, MPC-created vocal noodlings, and an expansive sample bank to keep the audience listening.

From start to finish, it's a journey of constantly-changing breakbeat soundscapes and densely layered samples reminiscent of DJ Shadow's epic Endtroducing..., but without all the theatrics. Instead, you'll find chopped up vocals, old school 808s, beautiful strings, and a churning, non-stop barrage of drums that make New Math as suitable for the club as it is for background music. Occasionally, there are moments when incongruent elements go head to head for attention, resulting in an awkward mash-up of sounds, but immediately from the chilled-out opener "Yardwork" it's clear that these self-produced cratediggers' aim is to keep heads bobbin'.

- Brandon Bass

John Phillips - John the Wolfking of LA

Varese Sarabande
Reissued: 09.12.06
Originally released: 1970

In John Phillip's autobiography Papa John, he only mentions his first solo album twice, and then it's only to comment on its poor sales. At this point in Phillip's life, he hadn't hit the junkie lows that he would before his highly publicized bust in New York, but he was well on his way. Had the album sold a few million copies, he probably would've had more kind words. But regardless of poor sales, I think he was being a little tough on himself.

The songs on John the Wolfking of LA can't compete with the work Phillip's did with the Mammas and the Pappas in terms of pop craftsmanship, but they do serve a purpose. After your party has lost steam, the drunks are passed out in the corners, and a lone joint is being passed around the coffee table, this album compliments that feeling you sometimes have of winding down as if the party actually accomplished something. The rhythms vary between laid back and quickly-paced-but-laid-back. With a predominantly country feel, it's hard to imagine an album like it being made today, and so the reissue makes sense in both its attempt to find a new audience and to offer a CD format to previous fans.

While John the Wolfking is a likeable album, it's also one that wears thin on close inspection. It's best listened to when you're not really listening to it. Phillips is capable of a better vocal performance than he gives here, but the slide guitar often covers his mistakes. "Topanga Canyon" and "Malibu People" are obvious highlights. "Malibu People" has the only lyrical content worth paying attention to. "Big bellied woman laying in the sand waiting for her baby as the waves roll in. If she needs a spot to drop you know she's not forgotten where the waves roll in." These words are touching in their familiarity and quirkiness.

Overall, John the Wolfking of LA offers few high moments, which is its charm. An album that never demands much of you, it's perfect for not doing much of anything except chilling out.

-Matt Thompson

Sapat - Krackhausblooze / Halycon Daze / Mystical Stupors 7”

Blackvelvetfuckrecordings
Released: 09.18.06

Sapat once seemed to exist more as a concept than a band. The idea was to gather several musicians together and hack out their brand of percussive improvisational free rock and see how it felt. As a fan it seemed like the most lackadaisical, utterly unpredictable structure, closely relating itself to underground jazz culture. Sometimes incredible and sometimes “eehh,” you wondered what would happen if they started orchestrating actual songs. Well, as recent performances have indicated, they have begun toying with some basic structures that they build and transmute as they please. With members frequently falling in and out of the collective, everything is worked, then destroyed or forgotten and maybe rejoined later. Because of all this, they have become one of the most exciting and laudable bands in Kentucky.

With their recently released 7”, Sapat focuses on presenting their drunken ghoul persona. “Krackhausblooze” begins as a massive psychedelic guitar free-for-all before it settles for a rhythmic funk identity. Here saxophones begin to speak in tongues as a psychotic Tom Waits-like character jars away his diluted one-sided dialogue. The rock guitars then return before the track pulsates itself into abrupt closure.

“Halycon Daze / Mystical Stupors” is similar to “Krackhausblooze,” displaying a fondness of Captain Beefheart and the previously mentioned Waits within the dense guitar and saxophone layers. As the jam slowly concludes in a noisy rolling thunder, it feels as though this is the fun side of schizophrenia.

Still, though pleasing and undeniably cool, this is not Sapat at their finest. For anyone who saw their recent set opening for Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy, it’s obvious that given the right place on the right night, Sapat are capable of not just being one of the best groups in Kentucky, but one of the best groups period. They can melt walls. They can blast out streetlights. They can upstage Will Oldham. However, this recording, despite being a good reference point to the basic Sapat aesthetic, doesn’t quite reach that hyperbolic stratum. Yes, I admit it’s unfair to hold this little record to such a high standard, but as far as I’m concerned, they set that benchmark for themselves.

P.S. - Look for and buy their upcoming full length Mortise & Tenon due out on Siltbreeze early 2007.

-Kent Thompson

The Memory Band - Apron Strings

DiCristina Stair Builders
Released: 10.10.06

I used to be a music sexist. Few women had voices that I liked and I usually thought their music was cheaply sentimental. For a while in high school I had a Tori Amos thing, but that was about the piano and the grinding. And the Breeders were about a post-Pixies thing. There just weren't many women out there whose voices could move me. Then something happened and I wasn't a bigot anymore. It might have been Chan Marshall. Regardless, I now find myself excited about Jolie Holland and Feist, and rediscovering Janis Ian has been inspirational.

I bring this up because, while The Memory Band is a Stephen Cracknell project, his voice quivers in the wrong way for me, but Nancy Wallace's voice has me putting down whatever book I'm reading and paying attention. To Cracknell's credit, he's written some great songs for Apron Strings. The acoustic guitars move in ways heavily influenced by folk, but often they're a little more aggressive than most folk music. The violin and viola round out their sound, adding slippery rhythms. You don't even need vocals on most of these tracks. "Blackwaterside," the opening song, proves that immediately with hippie drums and a violin that lives in Irish Sea, somewhere between Ireland and England of a past century. "Brambles" is completely hypnotic with repetitive guitars and drums lulling you into nothingness just before Wallace's voice on "Green Grows the Laurel" perks your ears back up.

Apron Strings feels deeply sincere. I occasionally find myself scoffing at the lyrics, especially those of the traditional songs "Green Grows the Laurel" and "I Wish I Wish," but it's hard to deny their musical depth and beauty. The emotional simplicity of "Evil" makes me wonder if my occasional scoff isn't a result of my not understanding the place some of these songs come from. There's something about proclaiming someone as "evil, yes you are" while a slow guitar ponders the loss of that person that shows a lived maturity that doesn't mind if the listener can totally sympathize with the words as long as he can feel where the music itself comes from.

-Matt Thompson

The Avett Brothers - The Gleam

Ramseur Records
Released: 09.19.06

First I should start out describing the Avett Brothers. The band is made up of three guys: two of them brothers and one a close friend of the brothers. One guy plays upright bass. The other has a banjo and a bass drum, while the other plays guitar with a high hat. A friend of mine described their sound as blues, bluegrass, punk, rock and folk mixed up in a blender. Yes.

They put on a high energy, foot-stomping show. Their recent release in 2006 "Four Thieves Gone" is one of my favorite releases of 2006. I saw them play earlier this year at The Southgate House promoting this album. I immediately became a fan of their presence and sound. Their recent release The Gleam is a more intimate glance into their songwriting. The album stays more on the folk path throughout as both brothers sing about drinking, lost relationships, and losing sight as time goes on. It's the kind of album that you listen to when you need some quiet time to reflect and take a glimpse into your life. So, pick up a copy and sit outside in a rocking chair and rock away, Cracker Barrel style.

-Kate Sachs

The Curtains - Calamity

Asthmatic Kitty Records
Released: 10.24.06

Chris Cohen quit Deerhoof after the release of 2005’s The Runners Four in order to focus on making abstruse pop music as The Curtains. Whether or not that was a good professional or artistic decision remains to be seen. Nevertheless, Calamity is a collection of both great and plain shitty musical choices that is almost guaranteed a reputation as a head scratcher. Is it the strangest 60s inspired pop record of the year or is it a wildly boring example of simplicity and subtlety bombing? Well, it’s both. Seriously.

Calamity is more an album of moments than songs. For instance, at about the two minute mark of “Roscomare,” Cohen starts playing some fine White Album guitar and does something he’s rarely able to accomplish; he digs deep enough to make his voice sound beautiful. Still, the problem is that the first two minutes of the song are so vapid it’s painful.

Other songs, such as the thank-God-it’s-super-short “Invisible String” simply kill any sort of positive buzz the best moments of Calamity can conjure. This is The Curtains biggest problem. At times it feels as though most every good moment is followed by another moment that is the musical equivalent of an itchy scab.

That said, there are undeniably interesting occasions throughout Calamity. “Wysteria” is a dreamy bubble of keyboard and piano affection that dismisses rhythm as obsolete. “World’s Most Dangerous Woman” offers the listener the same sort of pleasure or satisfaction that comes from farting in the bathtub. Also, the title track (which could have easily found a home on The Runners Four) stands out as very organized, edged, and focused without losing any of the unpredictable character of the entire record. Calamity, believe it or not, isn't entirely offensice and it's certainly not pretentious, but that's a large part of the problem. Though creatively dense, it still too often sounds like dry tastes. Chris Cohen is far too talented and capable to keep making records this insipid.

-Kent Thompson