h Jukebox
by Devoe Yates
Portishead
Third
April 2008
People seem a bit divided on this one. On one hand, hipsters are upset that there isn’t more of the same great cocktail party music that their first album offered, and on the other hand, many profess it to be a deeper, darker, and more complex collection of whispery ghostness. After more than 10 years spent missing in action, the drums are still rocking, the guitars are confrontational, discordant and challenging, and Beth Gibbons’ unmistakably beautiful voice is back in full force, ready to fill your heart with a quart of sorrow. But it’s definitely not the soothing ear jello that you’ve come to expect from these weirdys. The song structures are out there; you might even need a telescope to center on their crazy galactic swirls. Myself, I’m in between, I respect it but there ain’t much on here that makes me want to re-visit its contents. It’s like going to the MOCA and seeing some striking art. While you respect its inventive effort, it’s not necessarily something you want to keep around the house for constant interaction. On the other hand, if you fancy yourself an artsy intellectual type damp from your deep waters, take a dive.
Good For: Art class, self-loathing in the mirror, mutilating dolls.
Bad For: Hipsters, massages, family buffets.
Hercules and Love Affair
Hercules and Love Affair
April 2008 (Import)
I’d always wondered what would’ve happened if Rufus Wainwright sang dance music and, sadly, that has yet to happen. But apparently Anthony of Anthony and the Johnsons felt pity on my poor soul and put this little gem together. Yep, it’s him singing some dance tunes, and you’ll finally get to feel what it would’ve been like if you’d seen his massive bald form floating over the dance floors of 54 circa 1980. I won’t lie, at times it can be a bit dull, but the presence of the thing in general is quite amazing. Once you get past the first track it seems to roll like a disco steamroller and it can be as fun as a nasty coke night with Andy Warhol. Worth a listen most definitely, but maybe make your friend buy it, then burn it as
a curiosity piece.
Good For: Gay Raves, rubbing bald heads, lots of um…drugs.
Bad For: Present day dance parties, frat parties, stripper clubs.
Richard Swift
Richard Swift as Onasis (Double Ep)
April 2008
Good Lord man, the boy can jam. Last month I thought that the new Black Keys album turned out some raw blues, but this album exiles their efforts to a deep shameful place. Swift is a wandering troubadour of sorts, a multi-instrumentalist producer and short-film maker, and the father of the ambient-electro extravaganza Instruments of Science and Technology. He shelved an album back in 2001, a seeming perfectionist. Since then, he’s released a plethora of albums under different weird pseudonyms, but it seems he’s finally comfortable with the music he makes, and for good reason. Late in 2007 he met up with Wilco frontman Jeff Tweedy on the set of Later…with Jools Holland, and Tweedy invited him back to his personal recording studio to manufacture this bit of dirty craziness. Big on the jams, short on the vocals, there’s a mound of eccentric songs roaming about these CDs. My favorite possibly being a song about sign language, probably the first one about the subject matter (I would think), but maybe I don’t get around enough. He really just repeats, “Sign Language…the 27th of September”, but somehow it’s more magical than anything I’ve heard of recent. There’s blues with a reggae dub mix with occasional distorted feedback vocals, and it puts my heart at ease for its mere 39 minutes of running time.
Good For: Dancing in a lizard costume, bar fights, riding horses through burning cornfields, movies about badasses.
Bad For: Hmm. That’s a tough one. Whatever it’s bad for certainly isn’t anything worth doing.
Nine Inch Nails
Ghosts I-IV
April 2008
I know it might seem like heresy, but I’ve never been a big fan of Trent Reznor’s vocals, and here I’ve gotten my fantasy prize. There’s nothing poppy or structured about it and I’m glad, finally the man gets to let loose some stream of consciousness instrumentals. It’s not genius, but it’s damn good: two long albums of ambient and industrial wanderings through cinematic playgrounds that occasional find the ferocity of the title sequence he once scored for Seven. It’s the perfect thing for riding the bus in L.A. or meandering through strange crowds imagining your own dark theories behind the madness around you.
Good For: I just told you.
Bad For: Nine Inch Nail purists, a first date, picnics in the park.
Fleet Foxes
Fleet Foxes (EP)
Personally recommended by the boys of My Morning Jacket, it has the same feel as some of Jim James’ folksy-country-psychedelic-meanderings, minus the rocking. There’s amazing hymn-like harmonies, intricate instrumentation, and mazelike journeys through the structures of song that will leave you happily pleased by your travels through rivers and dales and stony clouds.
Good For: Sneaking out of church, catching butterflies, floating.
Bad For: Texans.
The
Breeders
Mountain Battles
April 2008
Well, let’s start off with this, there ain’t no “Cannonball” up in this business, but what you will get is what seems to be a flurry of glorious B-sides from the Last Splash period and a dash of a couple songs fit for the A-side. And that’s not a bad thing at all. The Deal sisters have brought back the feel of their first album, and their voices are soft and familiar friends to visit again. There are lots of sweet songs on here with all the raw pops and whistles. It’s like craving a perfect medium rare steak (or veggie buffalo chicken nuggets if that’s your bag) for 14 years and finally getting a taste after eating only pea soup for all that time. It’s savory and welcome and enjoyable, but I doubt it will compare with your first great steak-eating experience.
Good For: Fond memories, cross country drives, wondering why these old lady ex-drug addicts have such sweet tender voices.
Bad For: Catching the dragon, sexist egotistical lying bigots.
Yeasayer
All Hour Cymbals
March 2008
Like some kind of post-modern soothsayer, Yeasayer see through the smokey haze of the freak-folk scene with alarming clarity. They’ve taken those primal rhythms and Neanderthal chants and placed them in a more urgent context, combining them with psychedelic Middle Eastern strings and ominous choral sweeps to fashion a sound both entrancing and unnerving. There’s a subtle power to the 11 songs that complete All Hour Cymbals. Behind the lush veneer of instrumental flourishes and pop melodies, there’s an undercurrent of desperation and fear that resonates in the often tortured vocals of Chris Keating. On the album single “2080” Keating sings, “I can’t sleep when I think about the times we’re living in/I can’t sleep when I think about the future I was born into.” While the song’s chorus exudes a more optimistic hope for the future, its overall climate is apocalyptic -- a milieu that seems to permeate the album in both form and content.
In attempting to relate their fear of humanity’s nebulous future, the members of Yeasayer have crafted a sound that transcends current indie-rock trends and pulls from disparate sources like psychedelia, pop, aboriginal chants, gospel and even African Chimurenga music (check out Thomas Mapfumo’s myspace to hear what inspired that Yeasayer guitar sound). Throw in a slight fixation on 70’s drug-rock ala Fleetwood Mac (play Fleetwood Mac’s “Never Going Back Again” and then Yeasayer’s “Wait for the Summer”) and you’re close to the hybrid of polyrhythmic percussion, world music, and psych-pop that characterizes these musical exorcists. If “Sunrise” -- with its tribal beat and brooding keys -- sounds like waking up in a foreign jungle under a blood-red sun, then “Wait for the Wintertime” -- which consists of shaman like chanting and primordial guitar -- is like joining in a sacrificial death-chant under a cold, indifferent moon.
It’s hard to determine whether the members of Yeasayer are trying to make some kind of grand statement or just happened to stumble upon the perfect recipe for a new sound, but at the end of a good, stoned listen to All Hour Cymbals, it’s clear that there’s something going on here that demands your immediate attention. –Bill Dvorak
Good For: Testing out your new hookah with some friends, dinner parties of the Silver Lake Hills variety.
Bad For: Football team bus journeys, putting salt on snails, the teacher’s lounge.
Frightened Rabbit
The Midnight Organ Fight
April 2008
A surprising bundle of ditties from a seemingly heretofore unknown ghost band from the corners of Glasgow, Scotland. Scott Hutchison’s warbly voice guides you through grooving tumbleweeds and cacti on a thundering tank of harmonies and tambourines, keyboards, muscle man drums, and jangly guitars. It’s a bit reminiscent of what Clap Your Hands could’ve been if they weren’t so annoying and could’ve grown beards and a post-puberty voice. They’ve been compared to the Pixies. Not sure what that’s all about, but it definitely gets you spurs tapping once in awhile.
Good For: Desert camping at night without shoes: Bring some friends to dance with as you take pulls off the whisky, making out in a very aggressive sort of manner in a teen movie.
Bad For: Jay-Z after parties, dookie sculpting.
Earth
The Bees Made Honey in the Lions’ Skull
March 2008
Long, winding dusty psychedelic jams without the annoying whining. The figurehead of Earth and ole buddy of Kurt Cobain, Dylan Carlson has done it all, from drone ambience to the industrial madness of Sunn 0))) to the dark metal of Sleep, and here he’s taken his music to yet another realm. It’s a band driven album, with organ, bass, drums, and his winding guitar seemingly doing guided jazz improvisations in the vein of Ennio Morricone and Brian Eno. It’s dark and moody and most pleasing like a peyote fudge cake with nuts.
Good For: Indian sweat tents, film noirs that end on red clay plateaus, alien abductions.
Bad For: Group Therapy, Jerry Spinger post-show parties, anyone who buys US Weekly.
Twilight Sleep
Race to the Bottom of the Sea
May 2008
At last, a promising new local band. This is Gothic industrial rock light. And a pleasant surprise. A lusty siren of the Siouxsie Sioux variety guides you through this dreamland dripping with rockin’ guitars and fanciful synthesizers and politely crashing drums. My favorite track on here might actually be “Broken Record” which mellows things out for awhile with a gloomy serenade to the stars. Worth seeing live if you have the chance, they’re one of those bands that make you glad you went out to the Viper Room to check out some new music.
Good For: Remembering when you used to be a Goth in high school, writing poems on your bedroom walls, break-up alone time.
Bad For: Playboy Bunnies, gardeners, beauty queens, being caught jamming to when a cop pulls you over.
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