Mick Bassett and the Marthas -- Here's the Whirlwind EP

There's a lot to consider when you get a tune from Mick Bassett -- well, at least for me there's a lot I have a hard time ignoring before I get to said song.

First, he was a member of the very promising and very young Dollfaces a few years back, but then you knew that and probably have a unreleased, but distressed Dollfaces t-shirt stashed away to wear to Sterling's 80th birthday in a few years, cause that's how YOU are.

Second, he's still quite young and depending on your particular perspective that's either quite good, because what is rock n roll if not youthful or just another kick to the crotch that you've been passed by another wundkind ya' old fart.

Third, he splits his time between the east side home of his younger-youth (presumably) and Ann Arbor. That is completely unremarkable, apart from the fact that every songwriting English major (must be an English major right?) at U of M I knew in the prior century was an obnoxious twat without much to say and even less to sing (I generalize of course, but that's how I remember it).

Fourth, Dutch Pink is to Tom Waits as Mick Bassett is to Dylan. This is not a remarkable observation, a keen insight or a big deal, it is just true. It's impossible to put this ep on and not hear a little bit of a young Bob -- not just because Mick sounds like Dylan (cause he does) but also because he floats, crams, clips, drags and fits his lyrics to his songs with a distinctly Dylan like cadence. Couple that with the Mick and the Marthas' folksy-blue-pop arrangements (not to distant from something you might hear from Bob's current boys in the Texas Playboys outfits) and again you're positively in fourth street territory.

In short, this should be a complete disaster. Promising teenage rocker makes it to college, where pretentiousness could easily win the day. Plus, he puts he poetry to a Dylaneque cadence which should he misstep slightly will sound more Hop On Pop than Blonde on Blonde.

But by now, you've figured out I like what I hear. Bassett's melodic sense is keen and beyond his years. His piano, when accompanied by the backing band leads them through simple, but never obvious changes. His blue notes are pretty choice and hint at deeper record collection than most, a tasteful music education or at least a keen ear. Plus, there's just enough blues to this pop to keep the remaining garagers entertained.

The CD release party for this EP is January 5 at the Magic Stick, appropriately accompanied by young gunners the Satin Peaches and Anna Ash and Rachel Thomas. I've never seen Mick and the Marthas live, but this recording hints that they may share a quality that has united many of the most beloved Detroit acts from the Stooges, Mitch Ryder and (dare I say it) Deadly Tedly on to the White Stripes, Dirtbombs and (dare I say it) the Von Bondies. It is the sense that at any moment any song might fly off the handle into a flaming wreck. As this clearly isn't garage rock, perhaps that is overstated a bit, I expect the rocking will be responsible -- but after all isn't that the whole promise of a good rock band -- to play it close to the edge with more than a little feeling?

Rating: 4/5

-Gorillla

Robert Plant and Alison Krauss -- Raising Sand

One is among the most recognizable front men of all time -- a true rock star and the voice of one the biggest bands of all time. His solo career, while successful has never been overly compelling.

The other is the first lady of contemporary bluegrass, which in case you didn't realize, is basically the same as classic bluegrass. She is a very capable producer, having worked on her own albums with Union Station and helming the board for acts like Nickel Creek. She also has a well deserved reputation as a standout collaborator, working and performing with everyone from Dolly and Shania to Phish.

But leave it to T-Bone Burnett to push these two voices to create an album that feels completely comfortable and natural but in many ways should be completely unexpected. Burnett a one time singer/songwriter/performer has spent nearly the last 30-years building a resume producing a albums for a considerable breadth of artists in a style that can only be summarized as distinctly and wonderfully American. This album is no exception.

There's very little here that points to Alison Krauss's bluegrass roots and there's certainly nothing that approaches the bombastic blues rock, epic arena rock or even folk-y acoustic side of Robert Plant's Led Zeppelin. If anything the album sounds like a warm and modern equivalent of the estuary Sun Records once occupied, neither completely country or rock n' roll and frankly unconcerned with those types of labels.

The Nashville band is typical of one manned by Burnett -- tasteful, competent, loose and fully capable of cutting loose on a dime. While it's tempting to say that the voices are the real stars here, it's not fully the case. Plant and Krauss have a wonderful vocal blend that belies the recency of their collaboration. They effortlessly switch between the lead and supporting roles and you never feel cheated when the album moves from an "Alison song" to a "Robert song".

But the star is the arrangements and the songs themselves. Burnett supplied them with songs from classic American songwriters like Sam Phillips, Tom Waits, Townes Van Zandt and Mel Tillis. They nail almost each one with the right amount of guitar twang, tremelo, slap backed vocals and economical use of overdrive and fiddle in equal measure. Plant's voice has in particular not seemed so comfortable in years, he never pushes his range to perhaps lost extremes and his often soft delivery is entirely successful.

Stand outs include the Everly Brother's "Gone Gone Gone" and the Page, Plant penned "Please Read the Letter" which didn't sound nearly as compelling on the Page, Plant reunion record of a decade ago.

While the impending Led Zeppelin reunion concert, release of their catalog to digital downloads and completely unnecessary re-repacking of Zep hits may take center stage in the weeks to come, let's hope that doesn't overshadow this stand out album.

Certainly if the Zeppelin can't take flight, Plant could find far worse ways to spend 2008 than with Krauss and Burnett touring smaller stages.

Rating: 4/5

-Gorilla

Radiohead -- In Rainbows.

There's this apocryphal story in the history of rock that involves Dylan and Lennon. The crux is that Dylan says that popular music is all about the words, the poetry. Lennon says no way man it's all about the sounds, that's where the emotional content is -- the sounds are the source of the spiritual resonance that makes people respond or at least react. True or not its an easy enough debate to imagine. One side, a musical poet who's been considered for the Nobel Prize and the other a brilliant song writer who often scribbled nonsense phrases in the margins of revolutionary studio exercises.

Even if its often easier to understand the nonsense of Lennon over the intelligibility of Dylan we see the tension of the illustration -- words and music, two separate languages existing in the same space, hopefully collaborating, but often competing for neurons.

It's never been hard to tell what side of the debate Radiohead was on, after all Thom Yorke's vocal delivery is fully in the Micheal Stipe mumble method. From the soft/loud explosion of "Creep" that imbued the Pixie/Nirvana formula with a positively other worldly guitar explosion through the prog rock re-imagining of a "Day in the Life" of "Paranoid Android" and the deconstructivist pop of Kid A there's been a lot of effort put into sounds.

Frankly, I think this why today a lot of people have "Radiohead problems" -- they're in the words first camp. "Creep" was cool, the basic pop formulas of the Bends was clear enough to follow and everybody said you were suppose to like OK Computer. Entertainment Weekly even amended their original negative review to conform with the view that became so prevalent that OK Computer won a Q poll for the greatest album of all time.

The result of the requirement that everybody like OK Computer was that everybody had to listen to Kid A. Not everybody liked Kid A, even if they wouldn't admit it. The side you choose still colors your opinion of the band -- even if you'd like to contend that it was Amnesiac that rubbed you the wrong way (complete bull shit by the way, you could have rationalized it as just the Kid A leftovers, you didn't like the blips and bloops).

To see the Kid A material live when the band first toured was revolutionary, in fact many word-firsters in press said they could't do it. But they translated every computerized blip to the context of a rock band. It would have been as radical to successfully come out and play the Bends with a bank of synths controlled by laptops. Hail to the Thief attempted to continue on in that aesthetic -- electronica played by a live rock band and it was received fairly as a pretty mixed attempt.

In Rainbows, operates in this same mode. Acoustic instruments, electric instruments of the analog era and computerized instruments have to play nice with each other. There can be no separate but equal like the OK Computer to Kid A era -- integration is paramount. More importantly, the results are thoroughly successful.

"Weird Fishes" pulses as a kind of ambient trip hop jazz, all played on instruments the Ramones would recognize. "Faust Arp" is built around a beautifully simple arpeggiated acoustic guitar and George Martin style strings that sound real but may come from the famed string synth mentioned in the title. Older songs like "Nude" and newer ones like "House of Cards" find Yorke's soft voice and clever vocal melodies emerging from a sea of echo and reverb that interweaves the frontman into the fabric of the songs and more importantly the band (one day they'll find a way to pull poor Tommy out of that well).

Finally, "Videotape" is brilliant piece that could exist solely with Thom's voice and the solo piano (as producer Nigel Goodrich showed on his website). Despite this, it also stands to reason that it could be given the full Eraser treatment and driven fully electronically. But it stands a stronger production with a full band arrangement that draws on both these tendancies.

The fact that Radiohead is once again exceeding the sum of their parts musically is perhaps even more encouraging than mini-revolution in distribution.

Rating: 4/5

Spoon -- Ga Ga Ga Ga

It's tempting at times to think of Spoon as almost minimalist. The course of their concise discography isn't overflowing, it's a neatly packed collection of trim pop songs borne from a DIY ethos that they've probably graduated past, but clearly never ventured too far from.

Compared to a contemporary like say Ryan Adams, Britt Daniel could appear downright stingy.

6 albums in ten years?

What's he waiting for -- the time to write, record and compile cohesive collections of songs?

It's a novel, almost nostalgic approach to a music career that feels neither as forced or false as the Luddite pretensions that Jack White used to distract us from his other collection of gimmicks and the off-handed way he's applied his substantial talents.

But truly, I wouldn't even call Spoon thrifty.

The arrangements are economical for sure. They understand the power of well planned tambourine and shaker on the central nervous system of higher apes (it's the "power to move you," obvs). They aren't past augmenting the verse/chorus changes of "You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb" or "Underdog" with some tasteful horns. But they never exceed their own careful musical constructs.

The tambourine is Carey Grant's perfectly placed pocket square.

The strings on "My Little Japanese Cigarette Case" are the creases in James Bond's tux pants.

The light but near constant harmonies are Crown Royal on the rocks -- classic, a little Coke would just fuck it right up.

In every other direction popular music is positively Baroque.

Hip hop use to be a trio of MCs and one DJ. Now you need beats phat enough to make people shit their pants from the subsonics and least 5 dudes to yell "UNNNHH, Yeah."

Beyonce and Christina Aguilera have bent more notes in the past 5 years than in the entire proceeding history of gospel music. And all with 50 costume changes a night and more dancers than the standing armies of a third world country. (In a shocking turn of events, the Bootylicious Dancers have invaded Gana and overthrown the democratically elected parliament. Truly ladies and gentlemen, today will go down as the Drrrtiest day in modern African politics.")

Jeff Tweedy has a lot of Wilco fans wondering how getting OFF drugs lead him on the wank path to Garcia-ville.

Sure, sometimes bigger can work.

Right now I'd say Arcade Fire is making their circus tent of performers pretty compelling, but they're about one more a-hole with a glockenspiel or an extended hurdygurdy solo away from getting a beat down with their own didgeridoos.

Spoon is cool.

Spoon is in control.

Spoon is throughly modern and thus throughly classic.

Spoon is band that you can call (what at one time wasn't really a compliment for professional band, but rather a requirement) a tight band.

Here's to good taste judiciously dispensed and here's to hoping Ga Ga Ga Ga is another stepping stone, not a pinnacle.

Got a nice beat. Easy to dance to. Give it about a ...

Rating: 4/5

-Gorilla

Great Lakes Myth Society -- Compass Rose Bouquet

Check my flo.

While we lack the empirical evidence improved measurements of background microwave radiation and dark matter may one day provide to prove or disprove their actual existence -- there are interpretations of quantum physics that allow for alternate universes to exist in parallel to our own.

Under the rather conservative, if not controversial interpretation of Hugh Everett III, all these alternate universes are identical, but exist in different states.

But enough of that cosmological fiddle faddle we all learned in our level 6.2.17.6 training at the genius academy (Oh, sorry... didn't realize YOU didn't attend the genius academy like some of us) and peep this shit, cause it'll blow your whole tautology broseph.

Great Lakes Myth Society prove the existence of alternate planes of reality.

They come from a universe identical to our own, but one that is in a different state.

Over there, The Kingston Trio blew up on Sullivan, instead of the Beatles and pursued studio based innovation at the end of the '60's that in many ways remains unparalleled. The Beatles, still exist there mind you and their skiffle records are tasty if you can find them in a used record shop. Fairport Convention, not Led Zeppelin roared out of England and defined much of the pop culture landscape of the 1970's, red snappers and all. The '80's saw the rise of a hungry Irish band that remains among the most popular across the globe, The Pouges. Some say U2 would have been big too if they had ever embraced the folk-pop and left the rock behind... also, if Bono hadn't been such a raging alcoholic and married the Edge's mom, perhaps the disastrous club tour Zoo TV, with that stupid 27" Zenith could have been avoided.

Dylan is still Dylan, obvs.

In their home state of reality, Great Lakes Myth Society dictated the terms of their major label contract and the most talented Coppola relatives fought over who would direct their videos (would you believe Nick Cage won?) Their NME cover issue came shrink wrapped with a limited edition Edison Wax Cylinder of explosion sounds, entitled, "Boom. Did you hear that? GLMS just blew your mind."

Back here in my world, GLMS is celebrating the release of Compass Rose Bouquet with a June 9 cd release party at the Stick. It's solid sophmore album of folky-pop that shimmers with creative anachronism and poetic narrative. To the band's considerable credit, the album not only survives, but rather thrives on the contributions of three separate songwriters -- often a recipe for disaster. While the tone may shift and the tenors each take their turn at the helm Compass Rose Bouquet can be called nothing if not consistent and surprising.

The whole album, though clearly not eschewing modern synthesizers and electronic flourishes is largely arranged with traditional instruments and it is tempting to want to impose a completely acoustic framework on songs drenched in hot running nostalgia and cold historical regrets. But the Great Lakes cannot be bound by the preconceived notions of long dead record store bins and so they've wrapped their music in a completely modern production aesthetic. While I suspect the smoke and beer of the club circuit will continue to provide considerable more grit to the GLMS live sets than is on display here, the modern sheen on an album so rooted in the past was bold and throughly successful choice.

In short, pick up Compass Rose Bouquet and be sure to check out Great Lakes Myth Society as they tour through a reality near you.

Rating: 4/5

-Gorilla

The Veils Reviewed on Deadflowers

Quick link to a review of The Veils' Nux Vomica by the always anglophallic Keggies.

"Thoughts on the Veils' Nux Vomica."

If you take into account the exchange rate, he gave the album a 4/5 rating.

Arctic Monkeys -- Favourite Worst Nightmare

You Had Me At “That Man Just Yawned”

For many such as myself, much of 2006 was spent avoiding the non-stop media and blog buzz surrounding the UK's Arctic Monkeys debut, Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not. I quickly and unfairly dismissed the Sheffield band as merely a British Strokes carbon copy (Libertines?) and never gave them a chance at even cracking the iPod (in my mind). That was until I caught a re-run of their SNL performance last summer. They played their hits "I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor" and "Certain Romance, A". The latter featured singer Alex Turner pointing at an audience member while saying "that man just yawned!" seamlessly before launching into the song's finale. I bought the album the very next day and it has not left my rotation since (nor has the recording of the line left my saved voicemail messages).

Whereas Whatever People Say... covered the seedy pub and club scenes, telling tales through social observations made along way, their encore Favourite Worst Nightmare moves on to love and relationships, while still maintaining their common man appeal and witty commentary on topics such as the music scene, reality tv, and not-very-married married women. Unlike many of the recent indie buzz bands (Franz Ferdinand, Bloc Party and Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, come to mind), the Arctic Monkeys don't play it safe (a la The Strokes with Room On Fire). Just 15 months after their debut dropped, Turner and co kept the pedal to the metal and somehow manage to follow-up a triple platinum debut with, what could be considered one of the better UK sophomore albums in recent memory.

Much like an early Oasis with the working-class background and work ethic, the band has kept improving and that is extremely obvious at first listen. While the strength of their debut was their chaotic energy and Turner’s words, this time everyone in the band is vastly improved to the level of Turner. Drummer Matt Helders was no slouch before, but reportedly took up boxing to be able to appropriately pull-off the new material in a live setting. He impressively attacks the drum kit throughout (most notably on opening track "Brianstorm"), quickly putting himself in the same league as Muse’s Dominic Howard and Editors’ Ed Lay. New Bassist Nick O’Malley took over for the departed Andy Nicholson, a move which can surprisingly be considered a major upgrade in hindsight. Bass lines are quick, deep, bouncy and danceable throughout. The band is much tighter collectively, and are now really to start combining strong melodies and harmony with their brand of rock, taking the listener along for a fun night as they figure it out.

‘Teddy Picker" sees Turner throw in another Duran Duran homage with “I don't want your prayer. Save it for the morning after” (from "Save A Prayer"---the first being “Your name isn't Rio, but I don't care for sand” from "I Bet You Look Good…"). Variety is a spice of life on this album and the Arctic's show that they’re no one trick pony. They bounce back and forth effortlessly from prog rock songs ("Brianstorm", "Balaclava", "This House Is A Circus") that would make Rush and Muse fans giddy, to the expected traditional brash chaotic rockers ("D Is For Dangerous", "If You Were There Beware", "The Bad Thing", "Teddy Picker") that were worn on their debut, and surprisingly some poised slower songs ("505", "Only Ones Who Knows"). There’s even a dancey reggae tinted song, "Fluorescent Adolescent", which is arguably the standout track and will be a huge summer hit with the chorus “oh the boy's a slag, the best you ever had”.

If you’ve been avoiding over-hyped buzz bands, do yourself a favor and give this album a shot. There’s more maturity and depth on this vs their debut, but without compromising their energy and charismatic charm for the sake of stateside success. After 10 listens or so I can definitely see this album emerging as a top 10 of ‘07, and it’s only April. The band kicks off its US tour on April 27 at the Coachella Festival in Indio, CA.

Standout Tracks:
"Old Yellow Bricks"
"Teddy picker"
"505"
"Fluorescent Adolescent"
"Do Me A Favor"

Rating: 4/5

-Damore

Modest Mouse--We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank.

Following up a hugely successful album is the ultimate catch 22 for any emerging band. Modest Mouse moved from critics' darlings to mainstream chart attackers overnight with the surprise hit single 'Float On' off 2004's Good News For People Who Like Bad News. For their encore, thankfully MM neither plays it too safe nor strays too far away from what worked well previously. On We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank, Isaac Brock & co wisely opted to stick to their core sound, while adding new elements that serve to challenge their fan base creatively while being more broadly accessible (more singles potential). Accomplishing that, while not alienating both new and longtime fans, AND without sounding overtly commercial is walking a fine line to say the least.

Adding new wrinkles to the scheme is due in large part to the addition of guitar hero Johnny Marr (The Smiths, Electronic). Marr's addition surprised many, though he worked and toured with a collection of younger rockers on his Healers project in 2003 (with mostly lukewarm response). Guitar prowess aside, Marr knows what works and what doesn't and his vast music biz experience no doubt helped the band navigate through the herculean task of following up a monster album when the weight of major label expectations crushes so many bands in a similar spot.

While the addition of Marr undoubtedly quickly eased pressure from the band, it was by no means a sure thing. Adding a legend creates its own complications. Had Marr not been willing to play the wingman as the consummate professional, the effort would lose its strong melody and focus, thus getting lost in murky waters. Thankfully, Marr is not John Squire, and he realizes his purpose is to best serve the overall band‘s interest and not his own ego.

Throughout, MM maintains their chaotic quirky indie rock m.o, while the tasteful and razor sharp guitar hooks of Marr bolsters the entire ship. The background vocal contributions of James Mercer (Shins) also adds a nice touch to standout track "Florida" (not as much as expected on two others though). Brock’s voice doesn’t lose its maniacal energy on much of WWDBTSES. On “Invisible”, "March Into the Sea" and the end of “Parting of the Sensory”, one can easily imagine that the recording studio was inside an insane asylum called Riverside (aren’t they seemingly all called that?) where Brock spends most of his time sedated in restraints. Be that as it may, most impressive is Brock’s surprising vocal restraint and subtlety on tracks “Spitting Venom” and “Little Motel”, which shows real depth and makes the album more enjoyable with each listen.

While the album may be considered safe upon initial gut reaction, each additional listen reveals layers of sharp dynamic changes and strong melodies that hook the listener. The album is chock full of singles potential, and save for Florida” & “Fly Trapped in a Jar“, most of which aren’t hardly the strongest songs contained (“We‘ve Got Everything“, and “Missed The Boat“, “Education“--which sounds very similar in tempo/groove to “Float On“).

Humble Rodent appears to have crafted an album that satiates hard-core fans while making the band even more approachable to new fans w/out sacrificing creativity and quality. A solid addition to any record collection.

Rating: 4/5

--Damore

GET THE FOLK OUT!!!

Idlewild -- Make Another World

After Idlewild's disappointing ‘05 release, Warnings/Promises, ‘06 brought singer Roddy Woomble's folkish solo album (My Secret is My Silence) , which led many to believe the writing was on the wall for the band. Warnings/Promises didn’t justly garner ALL the hate mail it received as being merely a shallow attempt at being mid-late 80's REM---credit must be given at least for turning in a new musical direction, albeit a boring one. Some credit also had to be given to the band for not merely releasing The Remote Part 2.0 (like early sessions sounded like). 2 years later & the folk influences worn all over W/P & Woomble's solo sleeves thankfully are out of their system.

While every UK band would obvs welcome US success, they don't seem to let it control or change their approach to music in the way bands such as Travis, Keane, & Snow Patrol have. At the core of Idlewild is melodic guitar driven songs coupled w/ the refreshingly honest, reflective hope-laden words of Woomble. He always seems to be astutely aware of his surroundings, yet he never seems to let the increasingly threatening world overwhelm him to the point where he loses his logical & optimistic take on life.

Make Another World (MAW) gets the band back on-course, returning to their guitar driven anthem sound of 2000's 100 Broken Windows & 2002's The Remote Part. The keyboard arrangements glaringly absent from Warnings/Promises adds depth to the beautifully sweeping "Finished It Remains", & "Future Works" is the type of song that Snow Patrol/Keane wish they could pull off, even featuring a nice trumpet section towards the end mixed w/ subtle keys. "You & I Are Both Away" has the best of both worlds for fans, part ballad, part rocker in the slow/fast/slow/fast format. In all, there are 6 solid songs contained.

That's not to say MAW is sans flaws though. It has its share of songs that feature unnecessary lengthy guitar solos that do little more than extend the album's total run time. While good intentioned, they usually only serve to confuse the listener about whether or not you like the song as much as you did the minute prior. Even the impressive track "Finished It Remains" gets slightly bogged down by the-over-the-top guitar solo towards the end. It's even more evident on track "Once In Your Life" which starts w/ Woomble doing his best dead pan spoken word (Shatner stizz), & for a lack of better ideas for the verse/chorus, decides to end the last 1:15 w/ a 2nd guitar solo. Don’t even get me started on their crack at dance-rock, “No Emotion”. While there are some solid songs (and couple not so much songs), much of MAW fails to grab the throat the listener as profoundly in the ways that makes 100BW & The Remote Part so special.

But these days energy and effort go a long way, and despite some flaws, Idlewild seems to have their passion and sense of urgency back, making this album a solid play. The title may be a bit ambitious, think of it as “a homecoming” of sorts. These days while every band tries to be like Radiohead, re-inventing itself each time out (or at least trying) , what’s wrong w/ sticking to what's already worked?

Solid
In Competition For the Worst Time

Everything (As It Moves)

You & I Are Both Away

Finished It Remains

Make Another World

Future Works

Middle of the Road

If it Takes You Home

Not So Much

No Emotion

Once In Your Life

A Ghost in the Arcade

Rating: 4/5

-Damore

Apples in Stereo -- New Magnetic Wonder

Apples in Stereo, were always a band I always wanted to like a lot more than I actually did. Coming out of the music collective Elephant 6 a little more than 10 years ago, they were oft described as sunny, low-fi, beatle-eque pop with more than a hint of Zombie-fied power chords. But for me, the sunny adjetive was the only one that ever really fit well. The Apples were never as low-fi as their collegues (and shared members) in Neutral Milk Hotel, and while their arrangements and songs openly drew from the late '60's and early '70's, the Beatles comparison was probably a bit overstated. Add to that the band's virtual disappearance for 5 years and the Apples were likely to fail to be known as much more than a Powerpuff Girls footnote.

Since they've been gone, other bands like Death Cab for Cutie and it's sister the Postal Service have taken the quirky indie-pop consortium model the Elephant 6ers established to the big time. Not to mention that New Pornographers batch of Canadians do almost everything the Apples do and do it better.

Wry pop lyrics. check

Panel of shifting collaborators. check

Shinny inter-gender harmonies and switching lead vocalists. check

Love of mid career Beatles and late career Beach Boys. check and mate

In a way, all that somewhat negligible history and makes New Magnetic Wonder even more refreshing. It is a truly joyous album of well arranged and very listenable pop-rock. Frontman Robert Schnider's craft seems to be in full force and the result isn't just an album that sounds fun, it actually is. The arrangements are often layered, but they sound effortless and intuitive, where so much current music feels sculpted within an inch of it's hard drive.

If you are too jaded to find the fun in the doubled guitar and piano chords of "Can You Feel It?" with its classic FM command to "turn up your radio¹", then you might as well hang up your little white ear buds.

The two numbers sung by recently departed drummer, Hilarie Sidney, "Sunndal Song" and "Sunday Sounds" could have been totally disconnected from the rest of the album in less capable hands, but they fit in neat and trim like the songs themselves.

Near the end of the album are the 4 parts of the "Beautiful Machine" broken into two distinct tracks. The first half displays the power pop prowess of the first half of the album, anchored by Schnider's vocal that displays a grittiness that carries over into the second half. The indie grit hinted at under the pop sheen of the first half really blossoms into the full Elephant 6 effect in parts 3-4. The arrangement, recording, and odd instrumentation play out as pleasant reminder of the best work of Neutral Milk Hotel, who's Jeff Magnum also surfaces on this album.

There are also plenty of quirky gimmicks through out the album. Little synths pop up and out as little pieces of ear candy. Back up vocals are run through a variety of modulation effects that recall ELO more than the Beatles directly. And there is a reoccurring use of vocoded vocals (think every Daft Punk song ever) that is pleasant enough. The only gimmick that really doesn't add to the overall effect of the album are the short sonic interludes that account for about half of the album's 24 tracks. I often love the use of short interludes, but they need to guide you from one song to the next or at least echo a consistent musical or sonic motif (a la' Badly Drawn Boy's brilliant Hour of the Bewilderbeast or About a Boy).

Still, it's hard to say that the interludes, which only account for a few minutes of the overall 53 really diminish the album as a whole. If you really don't like them, hit fast forward or edit them out of the playlist,² but don't sleep on this album.

Rating: 4/5

-Gorilla

_{¹They still make those right?
²You've been effing with album order since you got your first dual cassette deck, so don't act like you don't do this.}

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah — Some Loud Thunder

First, a point of procedure.

So you know, when our pale simian editor started this site, he made a point of outlawing half star ratings¹. You don’t care, but for us writers, it’s a might maddening. It means we’re denied doling out our fail-safe three and half stars to anything we’re unsure about. Spare me your “These amps go up to 11” jokes, I know it was designed to keep us honest, keep us from pussying out. Deprived of our precious middle ground, we have to take a stand: three stars — bearably average, four stars — untainted aural pleasure.

If you’re hunting for the real-deal Holyfield litmus test on Clap Your Hands Say Yeah’s second album, skip ahead to track five, “Satan Says Dance.” It’s not the best song on Some Loud Thunder (“Emily Jean Stock,” ask anybody), not the worst (maybe the endless five and half minutes of “Goodbye to the Mother and the Cove” that stop the record dead, barely to recover), but you’d be hard pressed to find a clearer line drawn right down the middle of the follow-up to a much loved, much hyped debut.

It’s not hard to think of Issac Brook doing something far more compelling with the goof-ball theatrics of “Satan,” or for that matter David Byrne selling it as a real barnburner back in the day with all his fidgety Asperger’s certainty.

Certain isn’t how singer/ songwriter Alec Ounsworth sounds on any of these tracks. He’s picked up a fierce mumble to go with his divisive yelp; if he starts to stutter he can send away for the free Clark Kent action figure. On the last record, his Brooklyn compatroits could barely keep up with up with him, delightfully failing just behind his howl on “The Skin of My Yellow Country Teeth” and “Tidal Wave of Young Blood.” After months upon months of touring and the audio boost of Dave "Fucking" Friedman, the band is taut and Alec is the one falling back. Where are his witty, witty remarks about David Bowie look-likes or the growling pleas for some salt?

Well forget it. This record’s not as good, I won’t lie to ya’. Why would anybody in their right mind would miss 2005's, I don’t know, but here we are? We gotta take our fun where we can find it. Which brings us back to “Satan Says Dance.” If after three listens you’re annoyed beyond comprehension, just walk away. But if like me, you start giving into to the space-invader keyboards and kraut rock beat, then everything falls kinda into place. Suddenly you can wait to pile into a dirty club with other dorks in cowboy shirts and screaming the “SAID DANCE” call-and-response.

You start the record over and hold on to that little moment, others come soon after. Nothing grabs you by the throat this time, but given the choice you decide to enjoy it.

Rating: 4/5

- Dmitri Jr

_{¹Ed. note: We work on a strict 1 to 5 scale, where 5 is the best, in case you hadn't noticed yet.}

Unnamed Supergroup — The Good, the Bad & the Queen

Why is this automatically a “Damon Albarn project”? I’m not saying the fussy Blur frontman isn’t the driving force here, but why isn’t this touted as Danger Mouse’s next joint with vocals by that guy the Gallaghers' hate. Why isn’t press raving about Paul Simonon’s much-delayed response to Big Audio Dynamite?

That Albarn consistently gets “mastermind” billing is astounding, in part ‘cause he might actually deserve it over his orchestra mates. Kiddies, if you’re looking for a career template for surviving in modern rock, Damon is your man. That he remains relevant longer after Noel and Jarvis doesn’t surprise me — I am Blur man, always was — but that the reinventions keep coming is amazing in the most-important-band-of-the-last-five-minutes world of English rock.

Still even the most dedicated fan has to admit a pompous untitled world-music supergroup coming together to rage against war and the gentrification of greater London has “suck” written all over it.

So why the hell does it work so effing well?

It’s a decidedly dour, self-consciously “important” record that consistently wrings out more delights that has any right to. The terrible title revisits the Gorillaz’s Clint Eastwood fixation, and sonically you might say the record merely lobs off most of the hip-hop edges of that project — a pensive 2D solo record if you will. Yet anchored by the sophisticated slink of Simonon’s bass and the refreshing understated blips and tweaks of Danger Mouse’s production, it all holds together as a perfectly listenable, worthwhile side project.

Unlike everybody else I’ll admit I know nothing about drummer Tony Allen, but I assumed things would get funkier under his watch. Outside of a few minutes on “Three Changes,” it never really happens though. DM has processed so much of his work it often sounds like it was cobbled together on the laptop (not a knock, just a point of fact). The mournful interplay of Albarn’s carvival keys and the haunting guitar of the Verve's Simon Tong is what most often takes center stage.

I haven’t gotten around to listening to this back to back with last year’s Eraser, but I get the feeling that’s what Damon was shooting for. The album’s filled with weak-ass attempted Yorke-isms, “Emptiness in computers bothers me” on “A Soldier’s Tale.”

Still as a discerning organizer of collaborators, Damon convinces you to ignore the pretense and indulgence. His last sane man in London shtick works here because you believe outlasting his Britpop peers and even his real band (at least the classic Coxon line-up) has left Albarn as genuinely lonely as he sound on GB&Q — hence all the young and not-so-young dudes he keeps convincing to play on his records.

So bottom-line, modern life is still rubbish, but at least the company’s nice.

Rating 4/5.

-Dmitri Jr.