What sort of music would you anticipate from a musician named Jay Reatard (born Jimmy Lindsey)? Don’t let the gothic, morose front cover of his sophomore release, Watch Me Fail, give you a distorted view of what to expect when listening to this album: there is only fun to be had.

By 2005, both of Lindsey’s previous bands—the Reatards and the Lost Souls—had broken up, and he had devoted himself solely to side projects like Destruction Unit. Instead of returning to his older bands, he embraced the concept of releasing himself as a solo artist. In 2006 he put out Blood Visions, a raw, noisy, and fuzzy punk record.

Now fans have been given something a little bit different. While keeping the same flair Lindsey has brought to all his past musical ventures, Watch Me Fall is essentially a noisy pop record. Whereas on previous recordings Lindsey would have added a distorted layer to make the melodies a little less obvious, on Watch Me Fail he has stripped them away, making the songs much more easily accessible.

Read the rest of this entry »

In reviews and biographies scattered across the web, there doesn’t seem to be any consensus on what exactly Allentown, Pennsylvania’s Pissed Jeans should be classified as. While reviewers can’t fully agree on what kind of abstract-genre titles the band deserves—noise-rock, post-grunge, or super-sludgy, Sabbath-influenced hardcore-punk—everyone seems to be sure that there is definitely something abstract at work here.

Returning August 18th with King of Jeans, their third attempt at musical cohesion, Pissed Jeans finds themselves mastering whatever it is that they do.

As their profile on current label Sub Pop says, “If 2005’s Shallow was Pissed Jeans coping with moving out of their parents’ homes, and 2007’s Hope for Men their initial reaction to the mechanical lifestyle of a wage-earner, King of Jeans is their formal and uneasy acceptance of adulthood.” Don’t look for abstract political meaning here; these guys only want to talk about themselves.

Read the rest of this entry »

What’s a budding musician to do when his band makes two exquisite albums and then releases a less than stellar third record?  If you’re Paul Banks of Interpol, the solution is to be to change your name to Julian Plenti and release your solo debut, Julian Plenti is… Skyscraper.

The differences between the music Banks made with Interpol and Julian Plenti’s sound are readily apparent. While Banks’ trademark, wavering vocals are still present the background, the music plays a large role in creating a new atmospheres for this release. Whereas Interpol relied on rhythmic patterns and shouted vocals, Julian Plenti exhibits a much more alt-folk vibe. The use of acoustic guitars and empty space creates a much more thinned out sound than anything you’ll find on an Interpol record, giving Banks an opportunity to prove that he is capable of much more than the letdown that was 2007’s Our Love to Admire.

Read the rest of this entry »

In terms of rock ‘n roll time, an eight-year break is an eternity. Unless a band spends eight years recording a masterpiece or nursing a killer reunion tour, chances are the rest of the music world has moved on by the time it resurfaces. Then again, Circulatory System (and most Elephant Six bands in general) seems to operate outside of traditional rock ‘n roll time continuum anyhow.

Formed by Will Cullen Hart in 2000 after his other main project, Olivia Tremor Control, decided to take a breather, Circulatory System stands as another loose conglomeration of Elephant Six buds. In 2001, the group released it’s eponymous debut—a colossal helping of psychedelic guitars, smart orchestration, and loads ‘o quirk—along with a “remix” of that album in the same year, but has been silent ever since.

So why has Hart waited until 2009 to post a follow-up? Well, the singer attributes the interruption to multiple sclerosis, a condition he was diagnosed with a few years back. The condition purportedly delayed the recording of their new album, Signal Morning, but also prompted the Olivia Tremor Control camp to start playing together again(!).

Given that lengthy gap, a lot of potential avenues for analyzing Signal Morning are somewhat skewed. For starters, Circulatory System isn’t trying to make a career out of this music—it sounds more like friends coming together to capture energy on tape to share it with like-minded friends and fans alike. With intentions like that, who cares if this record doesn’t “measure up” in any traditional sense? Hart also admits that the chronology of songwriting varies dramatically, with some of the initial demos dating as far back as 1993. So to compare Hart’s ideas circa 2001 to their 2009 iteration is somewhat baseless.

Read the rest of this entry »

Portugal. The Man is a group of musicians that has always seemed incredibly unlikely to settle down with one particular sound. Maybe in a quest for progress, or, more likely, an effort to avoid the pitfalls many bands encounter as their releases sound more and more identical, this band has to date created four full-lengths that sound as if they could have been recorded by four entirely different bands.

2006’s Waiter: “You Vultures!” rings out like an indie record that really doesn’t fit anyway in particular. Suffering mainly from an underdevolped sense of dynamics, Waiter still managed to grow Portugal. The Man a slight reputation, as no one knew how exactly to describe them.

The following year, the band released Church Mouth, which came off as an odd attempt to mix indie and rock and roll; a simple idea in theory, but somewhat faulty in execution.  2008’s release, Censored Colors fell into the Beatles-esque psychedelia.  The sound worked out beautifully, even if the album seemed a little much to handle at times.

With their latest effort, The Satanic Satanist, it appears that Portugal. The Man may have settled into a particular sound for once. An amalgamation of their prior releases, The Satanic Satanist might be the band’s best album to date.

Read the rest of this entry »

It’s time to erase the word “supergroup” from your vocabulary. After so many pretentious, lackluster efforts made solely for monetary gain (ahem, Chickenfoot), “supergroup” has become shorthand for any collection of like-minded musicians drawn together for all the wrong reasons. And that’s a pity because occasionally groups of already established musicians can actually be spectacular.

The Dead Weather is one of those special cases. With The Kills’ Allison Mosshart on vocals, Queens of the Stone Age’s Dean Fertita on guitar, Jack Lawrence of The Raconteurs on bass, and the almighty Jack White on the drums, The Dead Weather seems more an artistic endeavor than an attempt at harvesting cash crops.

Each and every part of this puzzling arrangement was perfectly chosen to progress further the bastardized blues so familiar to Jack White’s fans. There are hints of so many different influences in the band’s debut release, Horehound (available July 14th on Third Man Records), that it doesn’t fit into any specific genre classification too snugly. A toned down, droning guitar rocks thick blues riffs that mesh beautifully with Mosshart’s somber and dreary vocals, while Jack White takes the back seat for a few moments to pound out some simple cymbal clashes and snare roles.

Read the rest of this entry »

“This is a man with arms open wide/a sonic shoulder for you to cry,” Jeff Tweedy sings on “Wilco (the song),” the lead-off track from the alt-rocker’s seventh proper LP. In what proves to be one hell of a bait-and-switch, Tweedy insists that despite the “knife in your back” or the “rough road” you may travel down, “Wilco will love you, baby.” Taken at face value, the lyric is a sweet (if blatantly easier-said-than-done) sentiment, and the sort of line that begs to be parroted back in concert.

So what’s the catch? Well, let’s just say Tweedy and Co. spend the next 40 minutes prompting you to cry on that shoulder of theirs…though only if you’re paying close enough attention.

For Wilco stalwarts, the irony shouldn’t be much of a surprise—Tweedy has long established himself as one of the premiere bittersweet songsmiths of the aughts. What’s particularly striking about Wilco (the album), rather, is how straightforward it feels. It’s Tweedy’s most musically tame effort since Being There (and yes, that includes Sky Blue Sky), despite being as emotionally pluming as some of the best cuts off of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and A Ghost Is Born.

And I’m no sentimentalist—I swoon over the experimentalism of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot as much the next nerd, but I’m not keen on holding the band hostage to itself. So let me be clear: Wilco (the album) isn’t a weak album because it’s straightforward—it’s weak because the music often fails to do Tweedy’s words and ideas justice.

Read the rest of this entry »

The Mars Volta has always had a unique way of doing things. With Omar Rodriguez-Lopez on guitar, Cedric Bixler-Zavala on vocals, and whoever else they can happen to scrounge up to do some recordings or live reenacting (ahem, John Frusciante), this band still finds ways to steer clear of the beaten path with each release.

The Mars Volta of 2001 that had just broken away from post-hardcore outfit At The Drive-In played to a far different tune than the Mars Volta of today, largely because they’ve always been a group willing to expand their sounds through any means necessary. This ethos is exemplified once again on their newest album, Octahedron, in their experimentation with mellowness and restraint.

Before Octahedron released, vocalist Bixler-Zavala promised it would be “acoustic” and “toned down.” Of course, Octahedron is actually … non-acoustic.

As Bixler-Zavala explained, though, “[P]eople can be so linear in their way of thinking, so when they hear the new album, they’re going to say, ‘This is not an acoustic album! There’s electricity throughout it!’ But it’s our version. That’s what our band does—celebrate mutations. It’s our version of what we consider an acoustic album.”

It’s true—while there surely is electricity on the album (and a lot of energy), Cedric wasn’t off base in labeling this album a toned down version of the Mars Volta.

Read the rest of this entry »

There is a lot about Mos Def’s latest release, The Ecstatic, that simply doesn’t fit in with the rest of his catalog. This isn’t the voice that the MC spoke with on the classic Black On Both Sides or Black Star, and, luckily for listeners, it isn’t the washed up Italian Job actor trying to drop some True Magic on his audience, either. Instead, this album is best understood as a great return to hip-hop relevance.

Everything great about The Ecstatic is unexpected, especially after the standard issue single, “Life In Marvelous Times”—a steel-laced track filled with a little too much upbeat instrumentation—was released months ago in preparation for a December release date. Delays and expectations aside, the finished product arrives at eager listeners’ headphones boasting a confused array of unconventional production techniques and a new take on old beat-making.

Read the rest of this entry »

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Rancid’s name alone provokes immediate, visceral disgust. It embodies the punch-in-the-gut, intentional provocativeness the band has exploited for the past 18 years. But that great, gritty disgusting-ness is starting to fade.

It’s not like all punk bands sell out, but sometimes I wish they did instead of falling into the gutter, worn and beaten, mere shadows of their former selves (Against Me!, for example, manages to rock on New Wave even after signing to a major label).

When a band has written some of the 80’s and 90’s best ska and punk songs, how can it expect fans to be satisfied with a new releases that does little besides showcase how far it’s fallen? After writing such greats as “Maxwell Murder” and “Ruby Soho,” Rancid’s June 2nd release, Let The Dominoes Fall, just doesn’t cut it.

Read the rest of this entry »