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L.A. producers Squeak E. Clean and DJ Zegon certainly know how to pull in top-notch collaborators. From John Frusciante and Tom Waits to Kanye and M.I.A., just reading The Spirit of Apollo's track list gives goosebumps. Just imagine an aging David Byrne bobbing his head to Chuck D in the recording booth. All this genre blending sounds promising, but do too many chefs spoil the stew?
In his third Antony and the Johnsons release, lead singer Antony Hegarty brings his eerily operatic voice to an indistinct but poetic ensemble of piano and strings. Sadly, The Crying Light shows Hegarty as a one trick pony only capable of conveying a sense of tear-stained, sexual melancholy that accompanies a long gaze up to a cold moon through a rainy window, most befitting of a Zach Braff movie. Sure it's a complex emotion to get across, but we can only take so much. The only track that diverges somewhat from this somber feel is "Kiss My Name." But the departure is only an addition of sharper drums and electric guitars. Even in a supposedly upbeat song, Antony's majestic vocals cannot seem to convey joy. Similarly, "Aeon," with its simple but strong guitar riff shows signs of imagination, but this more grounded sound is never fully explored. Lyrically, Hegarty confuses listeners with disparate brush strokes that fail to paint much of a picture. As he whines in the title track, "Agony goes/I was born to adore you. I was born to represent you/To carry your head into the sun." On top of well-crafted orchestration, Hegarty repeatedly wastes his opportunity to make a lasting work. Perhaps I'm ignorant and insensitive to the New York City cabaret scene of the '90s from which Hegarty emerged, but outside of its element, the style is lacking and one-dimensional. Musically, I can't help but lament with Hegarty when he when he croons, "I need another world/This one's nearly gone." -
Say goodbye to the Dropout Bear; Kanye West's all grown up, and he's not happy. His latest album finds Kanye leaving behind "Good Life," and instead embracing his hell: heartbreak. Ironically enough, West has chosen to segue into this more despondent sound by recording his newest album in Hawaii (area code: 808).
Last Saturday, it became official: Durham hipsters have a new Mecca. Playing host to two nights of the Troika Music Festival, the Pinhook opened its arms to eager concertgoers, introducing many to its exposed red brick walls, mix-matched furniture, aged wooden floors and comfortable atmosphere.
With their guitar-centered, lo-fi sound, Sorry About Dresden has become a Triangle indie mainstay and will surely be one of the highlights of this year's Troika Festival. Since entering the national scene with their 2003 release, Let it Rest, the Chapel Hill band has made a living touring the Southeast while staying true to their Tar Heel state roots.
In the wake of new-age dance-rock bands like Architecture in Helsinki and Crystal Castles comes Brooklyn quartet Gang Gang Dance with Saint Dymphna. From driving dance beats, layers of synthesizers and detached feminine vocals emerge a soundtrack for a beautifully sweaty, freaky sex party in the trendiest Williamsburg apartment imaginable. As Time Out New York exaggerates, Gang Gang Dance has "found the g-spot of the universe."
The world's favorite 30-member Swedish indie collective, I'm From Barcelona, follows up their joyous 2006 debut Let Me Introduce My Friends with Who Killed Harry Houdini? Rather than the upbeat, life-affirming tunes of innocence that epitomized the group's earlier work, the songs of Who Killed will leave listeners feeling much more subdued and calmed.
While I was studying at Oxford University this summer, Wednesday nights in the beer cellar came to mean two things: expensive drinks and the smooth, nostalgic sound of Oasis. Ten pounds ($22) in the jukebox was enough to keep their greatest hits spinning all pregame long. It was here that I fell in love with classics like "She's Electric" and "Morning Glory."
Some chances only come around once in a lifetime.
Brooklyn-based TV on the Radio make their triumphant return with the colossal Dear Science, (yes, the comma is part of the title). This is an album you worship at loud volumes with the door open, so you and your hallmates can hear every hi-hat, every vocal melody, every horn riff that make up this beautiful mess of sound.
There is nothing happy or joyous about Loyalty to Loyalty, the latest release from Cold War Kids. Lead singer Nathan Willett struggles to whine over lo-fi, rudimentary guitars and drums, sounding like a one-trick band too drunk to play an empty bar.
Trust me, I was as skeptical as you are right now. Sure, Wayne Brady was entertaining on "Whose Line is it Anyway?," but now he wants to be an R&B artist? I couldn't wait to rip this apart.
After finding their folky sound in 2007's well-received Stage Names, Okkervil River continue telling their beautifully rumble-tumble stories with The Stand Ins. Although they take some debatable creative leaps (see the seemingly pointless interludes), the vibrant guitars and refreshingly homegrown lyrics are still everywhere you'd want them to be.
Fans of Bloc Party's debut album, Silent Alarm, may be surprised by the band's third attempt, Intimacy. Drum and synth-heavy, while unapologetically experimental, chaos ensues from the first cries of opening-track "Aries." Amidst the sound of massively distorted guitars comes an appropriate warning: "Get out of the way or get f-ed up."
