Music Reviews: Category Archives
“Indie” Archives
We Walked In Song
by The Innocence Mission
We’re well into June, and the days are constantly getting warmer and brighter. And so it’s as fitting a time as any to be listening to Pennsylvania’s The Innocence Mission. The group has been around since 1986, and have made a career of releasing bright, shimmering folk-inflected pop built around the husband/wife duo of Don and Karen Peris, and their gossamery guitars and cooing vocals, respectively.
Focusing too much on the light, airy elements of their music, though, might lead one to think that The Innocence Mission is all fluff and filigree. Nothing could be further from the truth. Even when singing age-old (and cliched) lullabies, as they did on 2004’s Now The Day Is Over, the group imbues their effortless compositions with a core of simultaneously heart-wrenching and heartwarming beauty.
The same is true on We Walked In Song. The music is as pretty, graceful, and deft as ever. Karen Peris’ voice might be something of an acquired taste, but once you get past that, it’s the kind of voice you want singing you to sleep. And her simple-yet-poetic and evocative (and sometimes slightly surreal) lyrics bring forth all sorts of longings and nostalgia. Backing her are musical arrangements that seem deceptively simple and plain, built around Don Peris’ graceful, effortless guitar.
Neon Bible
by Arcade Fire
Three years ago, the Montreal-based Arcade Fire released Funeral (my review), an album that would garner an avalanche of critical acclaim and appear on countless “Best Of” lists, mine included. And now, Win Butler and the rest of the Fire have returned with Neon Bible. Though less bombastic and fiery than Funeral—you won’t find anything quite as driving or overwhelming as “Wake Up!” or “Neighborhood #3”—their latest is no less powerful.
Indeed, its relatively subdued nature makes it even better at getting under your skin, and penetrating to the heart of the matter, than its predecessor.
In a recent Chicago Tribune article, Butler claimed the album’s central theme is “this idea that Christianity and consumerism are completely compatible, which I think is the great insanity of our times.” An audacious statement to be sure, one that could even be considered blasphemous in our modern, all too superficial society. And yet, time and again, the Arcade Fire peel back the veneer, revealing the world for the ugliness that it is—even as they hope and yearn for something better.
The Brothers Martin
by The Brothers Martin
Once upon a time, there were two brothers named Ronnie and Jason who formed a band called Dance House Children, a band considered by many to be one of the first—if not the first—dance/techno bands in Christendom. They released a couple of albums on the seminal Blonde Vinyl label before parting ways. Ronnie went on to form Joy Electric, distilling the electronic sounds of Dance House Children into their purest, most analog form. Jason, on the other hand, began Starflyer 59 and dropped the electronica altogether, opting instead for a sound more indebted to the English shoegazer scene.
I am, of course, speaking of the Brothers Martin. For years, fans of the two brothers have been clamoring for a collaboration, regardless of whether they were aware of Dance House Children or not. And while there have been a few pairings, such as the remix of “Blue Collar Love” that Ronnie did for Starflyer 59’s She’s The Queen EP, a true collaboration has been more wishful thinking than anything else.
Until now, that is, due to the release of The Brothers Martin’s self-titled debut. And all told, if you’re at all familiar with the brothers’ individual groups, this collaboration will sound exactly like, well, a collaboration of the brothers’ individual groups. If you’re expecting a return to the halcyon days of Songs & Stories, Jesus, and Rainbow Rider, you’ll likely be disappointed. No, The Brothers Martin is most certainly equal parts Starflyer 59 and equal parts Joy Electric, not just a trip down nostalgia lane.
Friend Opportunity
by Deerhoof
Every time I listen to Deerhoof’s Friend Opportunity, I find myself growing increasingly fascinated, frustrated, exhilarated, and irritated as I make way through the album’s 36 minutes. Of course, given the fractured, kaleidoscopic nature of Deerhoof’s skewed pop, that’s probably just the way the trio like it.
It’s hard not to get caught up in the infectious nature of such songs as “The Perfect Me” or “Believe E.S.P.” due to the former’s galloping drums and surging organ and the latter’s swaggering guitars and layers of percussion. And of course, there’s Satomi Matsuzaki cooing and spouting out all manner of nonsensical lyrics in that delightfully chirpy voice of hers. Indeed, it’s almost disappointing when something she sings smacks of coherence or comprehension, as if some magical illusion is suddenly dispelled right before our eyes.
But the same things that prove so delightful are, as is usually the case with pop as bent as Deerhoof’s, also Friend Opportunity‘s biggest liabilities.
Aerial Days
by Songs Of Green Pheasant
Those expecting Aerial Days to be a proper follow-up to Songs Of Green Pheasant’s self-titled 2005 debut might be somewhat disappointed. This EP is essentially a sort of clearinghouse for Duncan Sumpner (who records under the Songs… moniker with various collaborators), representing material that was recorded at various times between 2002 and 2005. It’s difficult to tell, exactly, which tracks were recorded when, or which tracks represent a more nascent version of Songs Of Green Pheasant, as all of the songs are wreathed in a lo-fi haze that purports naivete and rawness. Which, of course, is all part of the charm.
But there are certainly moments of unevenness throughout the EP, which does reveal that Sumpner was still figuring things out while recording these tracks. For example, the broken, distorted guitar that lurches forth in the final moments of “Remembering And Forgetting”, the extra-long denouement of “Stars Form Birds” (which sounds lovely in its own right but seems a bit awkward simply tacked onto the end of another track), or the meandering midsection of “Wintered”, which gets lost amidst whirling whistles and synths.
All that being said, however, Aerial Days is still full of tiny shimmering moments of beauty.
And The Glass Handed Kites
by Mew
The three fellows in the Danish indie-rock band Mew have described their music as “pretentious art rock” or “the world’s only indie stadium band”. Thank goodness such descriptions are rather tongue-in-cheek, because folks might get the wrong idea. “Pretentious art rock” might cause one to think that Mew’s music is rather exclusionist and elitist, when nothing could be further from the truth.
There are some elements to Mew’s sound that could turn off potential listeners, such as singer/guitarist Jonas Bjerre’s high-pitched vocals, the band’s lyrics, which are often full of myth-like fairy tale imagery, or the sometimes bombastic arrangements that often verge on—gasp!—epic prog-metal. But if folks these days are prepared to greet another similarly falsetto-led band that utilizes their own imaginary language as something akin to the Second Coming, than I think it’s perfectly reasonable to cut Bjerre and his mates a little slack.
And The Glass Handed Kites may verge into stadium band territory from time to time, thanks to the band’s love of massive, explosive riffs and thrashing rhythms. But by and large, the album is a solid mixture of hard and soft, quiet and loud; there’s a little something in here for everyone. “Circuitry Of The Wolf” may kick off the album with crunchy guitar wolfs and choral voices, but stately piano melodies also shine out amidst all of the distortion, lending a refined, even stately air to the song.
Much of the focus on the album will probably be placed on its mid-section, primarily the triptych of “Apocalypso”, “Special”, and “The Zookeeper’s Boy”, and for good reason. These three songs—all of them singles—find the band diving headlong into the more extreme, heavier aspects of their sound.
Songs For Christmas
by Sufjan Stevens
Plenty of folks have pointed out that Sufjan Stevens’ Songs For Christmas set—which collects Sufjan’s storied 5 Christmas-themed EPs and wraps them all up in a deluxe package complete with essays, videos, photos, and stickers(!)—presents an interesting historical document of Sufjan’s burgeoning skills as a songwriter and composer. Across the 5 EPs—which stretch all the way back to 2001—you get a concise portrait of Sufjans movement from breathy banjo-picker to full-fledged conductor, as each successive EP grows in musical scope.
Viewing Songs For Christmas only on an historical basis, as a sort of interesting collection of curios that are viewed more as footnotes in Sufjan’s overall discography, is to miss the point entirely, not to mention the beauty and even power contained within these 5 discs.
Listening to Sufjan’s renditions of these classic Christmas carols—which range in tone from cheeky to casual to reverent—as well as his own contributions to the seasonal canon, one can’t help but be struck by the way in which he redeems the songs from their status as cheesy, overly-familiar tunes that have been stripped of much of their profundity by Christmas pageants, TV commercials, and department store muzak.
At their best, which is to say almost always, the renditions on these 5 discs ultimately serve as a reminder that Christmas carols are actually some of Christian theology’s best and brightest proponents, encapsulating both the wonderful dread and terrible hope that lies at the heart of the holiday.
Songs For Creeps
by The Places
The word “folk” is often tossed about when describing Amy Annelle’s music, presumably because the acoustic guitar is such a dominant instrument and because her poetic lyrics don’t fit within any sort of easy pop categorization. However, such a label doesn’t take into account the surreal atmospheres and haunting textures that loom throughout her music, which is as ambient and spacious as that from any proper “ambient” musician.
Annelle’s songs encapsulate entire tiny little worlds of sound, conjuring up dim images of broken down places and darkened rooms pregnant with memory and longing. Field recordings, samples, broken snippets of conversation, and radio and television footage add to these images, creating lived-in spaces where the inhabitants have since packed up and moved on, leaving behind spiritual and emotional debris that Annelle then slowly picks through and documents.
Songs For Creeps is Annelle’s 6th solo disc, and the 4th under The Places moniker, and though it starts off on a rollicking, raucous note, it soon settles into Annelle’s typical eerie hush. Waves of crackling static, tape hiss, and the distant sounds of Native American chanting and fiery sermons immediately remove “My Weary Eye” from reality, instead positing it into some darkened parallel world—a world that small children sometimes stumble into as they make their way through darkened rooms, rooms full of shadows and pools of inky night that may hide danger or wonder, but which nevertheless beg to be explored.
Songs Of Green Pheasant
by Songs Of Green Pheasant
Duncan Sumpner recorded the initial tracks that would result in Songs Of Green Pheasant during the summer of 2002 on a 4-track recorder in his kitchen. However, the result is not the sort of lo-fi recording experience that you might expect. Rather, Songs Of Green Pheasant is an atmospheric, “wide open spaces” sort of folk-influenced recording, one that touches on Nick Drake as much as it does Flying Saucer Attack’s pastoral phases and the sort of melancholy pop that Hood has been doing for years now.
Given that Songs Of Green Pheasant was recorded during the summer months, it’s not surprising that the disc is shot through with sounds of summers. Or rather, the sounds of summers long gone, sounds that have obtained a golden patina of nostalgia due to too many barely-there memories. The entire album is coated in a nostalgic haze made up of tape hiss, clicks, and buzzing.
While audiophiles might be sure to nitpick Sumpner’s recording methods to death, the imperfections serve only to elaborate the warmth and humanity throughout the album’s tracks (as is usually the case with these sorts of things).
Brother, Sister
by mewithoutYou
To put it simply, Brother, Sister is a perfect encapsulation of everything that’s both good and bad about mewithoutYou’s music. Like the band’s previous releases, Brother, Sister is chaotic, sprawling, overwrought, and pretentious. Which has the result of making the music both exciting and passionate but also—well—chaotic, sprawling, overwrought, and pretentious.
The band certainly knows how to rock out as much as ever, but even a cursory read through their lyrics makes it crystal clear that mewithoutYou are attempting to convey more than your typical punk rock messages of angst and rebellion. The lyrics are crammed full of Biblical and spiritual imagery, as lead singer Aaron Weiss seemingly screams, moans, and gasps from one spiritual breakdown, relationship issue, or worldly struggle to the next.
There are countless times throughout the album where Weiss’ lyrics get away from him, where all of the poetic images practically stumble over each other in their rush to be heard (“You were a song I couldn’t sing/Caught like a bear by the bees with its hand in the hive/Who complains of the pain of the sting/When I’m lucky I got out alive” - “Nice And Blue, Pt. Two”).
Sometimes Weiss’ frantic, strained delivery imparts the necessary momentum to keep such lines afloat, sometimes not so much. But for all of his overwroughtness and melodramatics, there are some truly poignant and stirring thoughts that emerge as well (“Open wide my door, my Lord/To whatever makes me love You more” - “C-Minor”).
Some of the album’s more interesting imagery comes in the “Spider” trilogy of songs, which weave together acoustic guitar, horns, and accordion in a folksy manner that is distinctly different than the band’s normally frantic post-punk (though of course, this isn’t the first time the band has woven more interesting elements into their music).
Here, Weiss sings about the such common wonders of the natural world as spiders and mice, and in a manner that would make St. Francis of Assisi proud, draws faith from them (“You made this world to look so nice/I wonder what the next one’s like/Yellow spider, yellow leaf/confirms my deepest held belief”). As with much of Weiss’ lyrics, they can come across as entirely pretentious or quite poignant and moving. More often than not, I find myself in the latter camp.
However every time Weiss’ lyrics get a bit too precocious, that’s the cue for the band to start tearing things up, with erupting guitar solos, spastic rhythms, and walls of feedback and distortion. I’m afraid to freak out too much when those Edge-like guitars mesh with those Franz Ferdinand-esque rhythms on “A Glass Can Only Spill What It Contains”‘s outro, or when those same guitars scream high overhead like missiles on “Nice & Blue, Pt. 2”, lest my co-workers get too concerned. And I’ll confess to getting up from my chair on several occasions to rock out alongside the band, even in the process of writing this review.
Besides traipsing through folk territory, the band also weaves in smoky, lethargic, dubby textures and drones on “The Sun & The Moon”—which become increasingly hypnotic as Weiss intones, mantra-like, “The sun and the moon are my Father’s eyes” as the song winds down. As with Weiss’ lyrics, the band is sometimes guilty of cramming in too much from time to time, such as the accordion struggling to be heard above the ragged guitar chords on “In A Market Dimly Lit”.
Brother, Sister is certainly a lot to take in, and can be a chore to wade through. However, you can never accuse the band of not being ambitious, nor can you accuse them of being trite or shallow. For all of their overwroughtness, their emotion never feels anything less than fervent and heartfelt.
All of this is to say that when the band’s music hits its stride, when all of its excesses are successfully fuelled by the right amount of verve and energy—such as “A Glass Can Only Spill What It Contains” or “In A Sweater Poorly Knit” which ends the album on a sweetly trilling harp—the band reveals most of their peers in the indie/emo crowd for the cliches that they are.
For more info, check out the band’s website or their MySpace page.