Beach House: Bloom (2012-Leak)

Leaked last night.

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Schoolboy Q - Habits and Contradictions (2012)

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Wow!

Grimes - Visions (2012)

Late last year, Simon Reynolds described electronic music's response to our digitized world as a new kind of maximalism: "a hell of a lot of inputs... in terms of influences and sources, and a hell of a lot of outputs." That's an apt description for the music that Grimes was making before, but Visions showcases a streamlined aesthetic, resulting in a statement that feels focused, cohesive, and assured. It's simple enough to leave room for Grimes to grow, but this thing is so compulsively listenable it's hard to come away from it wanting much more. Anchored to the digital imagination but unbridled from its skittish anxiety and concerns, Visions gestures skyward and beyond.

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Frankie Rose: Interstellar (2012)

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Frankie Rose spent a few years kicking around the Brooklyn jangle-pop scene before striking out on her own: As the most charismatic member of Vivian Girls, Crystal Stilts, and Dum Dum Girls, she was a reliable bolt of onstage electricity enlivening the often noncommittal presences around her. It was pretty clear, even then, that she was eventually destined for bigger things, but her first solo record, recorded under the name Frankie Rose and the Outs, still felt constrained by a reflexive sort of cool-kid slouch. Between that record and Interstellar, she has dropped the pretense of a backing band entirely, and is recording simply as "Frankie Rose." The implicit point is clear: This time around, she's going for it.

The first moments of "Interstellar" make this point immediately. The song opens on a cool-blue vista of synthesizers, a transportingly vast sound of the sort Frankie's never made before. When her voice enters the mix, cooing about interstellar highways and moon dust, it's piped from above, passed through a series of filters so until she slightly resembles the Laurie Anderson of "O Superman". A minute in, a massive, Valhalla-pound drum hit resounds, the synths explode sideways, and Frankie hurls us down a flume ride of descending vocal harmonies. It's the most colorful, thrilling music of her career, and as grand a pronouncement as one can make that we're not doing things the same way anymore.

Interstellar is a big, second-album leap of faith into deeper waters, a sparkling synth-pop record that wants very badly to mean something to dreamy, hyper-emotional twentysomethings. For her model, she's taken the impression of some of the dreamiest, most hyper-emotional records of her youth. The production on Interstellar is gorgeous, and clearly modeled on the Cure's big, panoramic pop records, like Disintegration: booming-canyon drums, acres of spannable horizon. The drum beat that opens up "Know Me" is virtually identical to that of "Close to Me", and the silvery guitar leads on "Gospel/Grace" are pretty much mimeographed from "Plainsong". But although Rose indulges pretty heavily in the Cure's primary colors, she paints something distinctly her own with them. The world of Interstellar is a vision of paradise as lifted from the front of a Trapper Keeper: air-brushed, pastel-hued, and gloriously vivid.

Interstellar is not a thematically rich experience-- it basically has one single invitation, and that is to swim with Frankie in the glorious bath of echoes she's drawn for herself. "All that I want is a pair of wings to fly/ Into the blue, a wide open sky/ Show me your scars, I'll show you mine/ Perched out of the city on a pair of power lines," she sings over and over on "Pair of Wings", and you can hear this yearning for escape echoed in the record's every upward-spiralling note. Her singing has always been breathy and modest, but on Interstellar, her voice seems to mist on contact, even when she's swirling herself into a prismatic mini-choir of Frankies. On her record, she's just another celestial body orbiting larger ones.

The resulting album isn't one you actively explore so much as bask in gratefully. The longer I spend immersed in it, the more I appreciate its details: the haunting, truncated piano chords that the melody of "Apples for the Sun" clumps around, or the way Frankie's voice melts into and becomes one with the bloom of synthesized strings in the last minute of "Gospel/Grace". Rose is tapping the same slightly shameless clear eyes/full hearts well of teen melodrama that sourced M83's Hurry Up, We're Dreaming, and she demonstrates the same kind of focus and vision in carrying it off. On Interstellar, she transports us further and takes us higher than she ever could have as the drummer of an indie pop revivalist band. Amen to breaking free of sonic restrictions when they outlive their usefulness.

Tennis: Young and Old (2012)

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But if Cape Dory was the honeymoon, Young & Old is the daily grind of marriage. Gone are the carefree themes of sailing the open seas and bird-watching with your lover—Young & Old finds itself considered with some heavier themes and makes it clear that the couple has matured and tucked-in its shirt since Cape Dory.

The album opens with “It All Feels The Same,” which starts out with a surf-pop guitar hook but quickly dispels the idea that the band might still be out at sea. In fact, Tennis now even sounds a bit like a hapless couple attempting to rekindle the fire of yesteryear: “When I say your name I look for a change/But everywhere I go it all feels the same.” Even right from the get-go, frontwoman Alaina Moore expresses these landlocked emotions—but Young & Old isn’t just looking into the past with mixed emotions.

Cloud Nothings: Attack on Memory (2012)

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Post-hardcore....rockers all grown up. "Stay Useless" could be an epic anthem if the music industry wasnt so lame and commercialized. For now it will simply remain an undiscovered gem, a really, really, really good rock song. Catchy lyrics, repeating bridge, and power chords.

Check it.

A Place To Bury Strangers: Onwards To the Wall (2012)

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Third release from one of my favorite bands. So good, so loud....visit them on tour near you soon.

Real Estate: Days (2011)

For a mix of songs made at different times, Real Estate's self-titled 2009 debut was impressively consistent. Given how well the New Jersey band fused disparate moments, you had to figure they could reach even greater heights were they to craft their next set all at once. They did just that last winter, and the result is indeed a step forward. Cleaner, sharper, and just plain stronger, Days is like a single idea divided into simple statements-- a suite of subtle variations on a theme.

Its coherence sounds remarkably effortless, as if stringing together catchy gems is as easy as, in the words of one song, "floating on an inner tube in the sun." Interestingly, Real Estate actually acknowledge this sense of ease. The opener is bluntly titled "Easy", and references to carefree simplicity abound. As singer/guitarist Martin Courtney puts it, "If it takes all summer long/ Just to write one simple song/ There's too much to focus on/ Clearly there is something wrong." But the band's celebration of the uncomplicated is less about how Days was written than about the beauty of life seen in retrospect, especially young life in small towns.

Like the stirring scenes of suburban Texas in Terrence Malick's The Tree of Life, these songs find meaning in daily mundanities-- in houses and gardens, phone lines and street lights, names carved in trees and leaves pressed by footsteps. "All those wasted miles/ All those aimless drives through green aisles," sings Courtney wistfully. "Our careless lifestyle, it was not so unwise." That sentiment was evident on the band's debut, but here they've honed it to its essence.

The music bears a simplicity to match. These aren't minimal songs by any means, but the layers of cycling guitar, rolling rhythm, and gentle echo are always understated, more about conveying feeling than showing off the band's considerable chops. There's also a smooth efficiency in these rich tunes. No note feels wasted, and nothing happens at the wrong time or in the wrong place. Much of this precision comes from guitarist Matt Mondanile, whose nimble playing adds color to each song's shape. It's most noticeable in the insistent "It's Real", but I'm even more taken with his sonic smoke rings in "Out of Tune", and how his shimmering guitar evokes sunrays mingling through branches and sparkling off pools.

That idyllic tone permeates Days, and in lesser hands could deprive it of tension or variety. But Real Estate have such a knack for classic-sounding melody that every song quickly engages on a musical gut level. It's a quality their music shares with the jangly hooks of early R.E.M., the breeziness of later Pavement, and the garage twang of the Fresh & Onlys. But their closest kin are New Jersey forefathers the Feelies. That group's undying ability to mine repeated chords and Zen phrases is matched best by the album's closer, "All the Same", a looping study of how night and day are merely sides of the same coin. Lasting over seven minutes, it might be Real Estate's first epic. But it's as subtle and unassuming as anything on Days-- more evidence from this band that great music doesn't have to sound hard to make, even if it is.

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The Flashbulb: Opus at the End of Everything (2012)

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Cut Copy - Zonoscope (2011)

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Devotchka - 100 Lovers (2011)

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Sawf vs. Perc - Slim/Chromamoan (2010)

A1 Sawf – Slim 7:23
B1 Perc – Chromamoan 6:31
B2 Sawf – Slim (DVS1 Four By Four Mix) 6:34

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Deerhoof - Deerhoof vs. Evil (2011)

After a two and a half year break since their last work "Offend Maggie," Deerhoof returns with what is one of their most provocative records to date. Originating in San Francisco, Deerhoof has lasted through nearly two generations of music, thus creating an enormous collection of avant garde sound experiments, infectious and unpredictable pop melodies, and quirky, noise-infested indie tunes. The distinctive combination of Satomi Matsuzaki's light, ambitious, childlike voice and Greg Saunier's impromptu new wave songwriting has created a unique set of sounds, making the group one of a kind.

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Destroyer - Kaputt (2011)

A beautiful sense of irony envelops the work of Canadian singer-songwriter Dan Bejar. The moniker Destroyer seems like a fitting antonym to an artist who perpetually redefines his style. Since releasing We’ll Build Them A Golden Bridge in 1995, Bejar has embarked on an expansive exploration of sound, transcending categorisation like a prophetic musical chameleon. 2011 sees the arrival of the much-anticipated ninth studio album Kaputt; an album admirable if only for its amalgamation of genres as conflicting as honesty in politics. With brass sections replicating the chaotic cadences of jazz weaving with the effulgence of ’80s pop, Bejar’s latest effort certainly seeks to redefine the term “creative crossover”.

‘Blue Eyes’ opens in familiar territory forming a crossroads between Bowie and The Cure before veering off the map into the untraversed frontiers of free jazz. Bejar’s evocative imagery finds its harmonic counterpart in Sibel Thrasher’s dulcet tones; the intermingling vocal lines lead stream of consciousness into a candescent chorus. The underlying funk rhythm provides a stable base for the brass section’s detached diatonic runs, adding a semblance of spontaneity to the mix.

The phaser-fuelled scratch of guitar strings ushers in ‘Savage Night At The Opera’; a pastiche of the ’80s shoegazing new wave replete with taut drum machine fills and repetitive, reverb-heavy guitar riffs. The synth swirls complete this slice of retro pop creating a song as haunting as an acid trip at the homecoming rally. ‘Suicide Demo For Kara Walker’ dedicates its first two minutes to a painful pan flute intro. The clarinet-driven middle eight propels the song into a jazzy conclusion that’s sure to unsettle some listeners while luring others into the throes of tonal ecstasy.

‘Poor In Love’ finds a middle ground between Bryan Ferry’s nasal nuances and the early output of U2. Teeming with acute cultural references, the song’s slow-burning pace casts Bejar’s musings in a more sombre and reflective light, capturing the melancholia of his forebears. As we flow on a wave of nostalgia towards the halfway mark, a faint suggestion of superficiality rises to the surface. While Bejar’s clever correlation of genres conceals the frayed edges, one cannot help but think this irony merely veils a vacuum buried beneath the polish.

Title track ‘Kaputt’ creates an intriguing series of counterpoints between guitar and saxophone, coupled with the backing vocals of Sibel Thrasher once again. And yet, the piece flows amicably into its successors without leaving a lasting impression. Likewise, ‘Downtown’ and ‘Song for America’ maintain the same ‘Pavement meets acid jazz’ juxtaposition that characterises the entire collection, concluding an album as ambiguous as Bowie’s androgyny phase.

Like the litany of merchants currently pilfering the musical attic of the ’80s, Bejar’s ninth outing ultimately fails in maintaining a balance between imitation and originality, leaving a well-produced yet unfulfilled copy of what could have been. Pastiche as an art form lures its audience with the promise of the familiar only to reveal something utterly new in the performance. Kaputt creates an offering made up of little more than recycled revelations.

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Stereolab - Not Music (2010)

If you hate the jerk offs that write for Pitchfork, you'll probably like this.

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Surf City - Kudos (2010)

Debut album from the four-piece out of NZ. Album is quite varied in it's use of synth pop, distortion, fuzz, noise, lo fi, etc. Not that it's a bad thing.

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Velvet Davenport - Warmy Girls (2010)

Supposedly built around the stories of twelve separate characters, Warmy Girls is an upbeat and unabashed homage to 1960s guitar pop. The opening track ‘Mystery Michael’ shimmers with lo-fi Kinks-esque charm, while ‘Triangle Pear’ is more akin to The Beach Boys, with its intelligent melodies and gentle harmonies. This surf-pop vibe is continued by tracks such as the naive ‘Run Faster Lady’ (one of the album’s highlights) and ‘Bonny Brooks’. The latter sees Parker Sprout singing “Blonde hair, blue eyes, Bonny Brooks oo-ooh”, a line that could have come straight from Brian Wilson’s mouth. Parker’s knack for penning wryly unassuming lyrics is evident throughout the album, from the Andy Partridge-like “Michael, won’t you sing another of your clever rhymes?” (‘Mystery Michael’) to “Oh please would you squeeze me a grapefruit, I would like to drink some more juice // Today I listened to Abbey Road and thought that it was so great, the whole way through” (‘John Errand Hair’).

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Daft Punk - Tron: Legacy (2010)

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Blank Dogs - Land and Fixed (2010)

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Crystal Stilts - Shake The Shackles 7" (2010)

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Beach House - Teen Dream (2010)

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Women - Public Srain (2010)

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Deerhunter - Halcyon Digest (2010)

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Wavves - King of the Beach (2010)

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Crystal Castles - Crystal Castles II (2010)

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