THE VISIT - Through Darkness Into Light (2015)

Review by: Ali Ghoneim
Album assigned by: Kevin O'Meara

This album is to metal what Sparks’ Lil Beethoven is to electronic music.

Or at least that’s the conclusion I — someone who hasn’t listened to much metal beyond Sabbath — have made after listening to a 55 minute long “metal” album with no guitars. The metal tag comes from the band’s bandcamp page, so know that I’m not making any assumptions here.

Purely in terms of form and structure, I can see how someone could argue that this is a metal album. Chugging guitars are replaced with cellos, but you can still recognise the music that they’re playing as distinctly metal — again I don’t know much about metal so take that with a grain of salt. 

Prior to listening to this album, I had been aware that some metal acts liked to mix a lot of baroque/orchestral passages into their songs, but I was under the impression that those passages would then eventually gave way to stereotypical metal fair. Here, however, the whole album seems to be one prolonged ornate passage, which really caught me off guard the first time I listened to it. Here I was thinking: “Ok, the guitars are definitely gonna come in now….ok now……now?” But they never did, and the album was a much more interesting and engaging “metal” album because of it.

To be completely fair, it might very well be that these kind of metal albums sans guitar and drums are common, and that the visit isn’t doing anything new. In that case, my opening statement is a lot of hyperbole from someone who doesn’t know shit about metal. But AS someone who doesn’t know shit about metal, Through Darkness Into Light was a pretty enlightening listen. 

WIRE - 154 (1979)

Review by: Jonathan Birch
Album assigned by: Jonathan Moss

As the opening chatter of guitars, the crash of drums, and the morosely leaden voice of a man who sounded like a cross between slightly less depressed Ian Curtis and a more animated Morrissey drifted from the car speakers, my father made a not unobvious remark: “Sounds a bit punk-ish”. And indeed, it seems the band Wire were riding the punk wave that had exploded only a few years earlier. Only this was post-punk, which means everything has more echo and self-loathing.

  

The chunky sounding guitars and crisply recorded drums and bass gives the record some soothing oomph, although the deadpan vocals can occasionally verge on the side of monotony. The opening number, “I Should Have Known Better,” begins to resemble the diatribe of a love-sick teenager scribbling forlornly in his diary, and the self-indulgent attempts at anti-music such as “The Other Window” only serve to make me seek a window to jump out of.

However, although the album (non-descriptively christened 154) was a bit hit and miss for me, the hits were certainly the high points in terms of the musical soundscapes that were created. “The 15th” almost sounds like a slice of 2000s indie/dance pop that could have been released recently and has nary aged except for some noticeably late-70’s synth notes. The chirping of guitars and ending chime of synthesizer creates an almost zen moment of relaxation. “Single K.O.” is a bouncy number with a particularly animated lead vocal and haunting background chants, making me want to don a leather jacket, shave my head, and go out looking for a pub fight.

Unfortunately, what follows was another dud for me, an entirely atmospheric mood piece of repetitive guitar groans, with a dose of tom tom drums that seemed to drag for an unneeded 7 minutes. The attempts at building a tense emotional despair was admirable, but ultimately reminded me of a less interesting Joy Division experiment. Still, props for the dedication. A “touching display” indeed.

More entertaining nonsense ensues, and I remained unimpressed by some feeble Krautrock imitations, until about halfway through “A Mutual Friend.” The song segues into the singer muttering something about the months of the year, backed by the relaxing caw of an English horn, before climaxing in the chanting of the line “He might replace the old with the moon” that seems to have a greater significance I can’t quite grasp. But goodness, is it unconventionally catchy. The song fades out of this reassuring note, and opens with another proto-indie/dance pop number, “Blessed State.” Although clearly Bowie influenced, this is something that one could easily picture The Strokes or The Shins playing. The guitar riffs have great forward energy, and the steady drum beat is toe-tappingly addictive to my replay button. Most successful, easily accessible, and probably my favorite song on the album.

Two more dirges commence, before my attention is once again captured by the “Single K.O.” twin, another energetic tune called “Map Ref. 41 Degrees N 93 Degrees West” that begins to morph into an anthem for the post-modern, with the lead vocalist subtly announcing “Chorus!” in lieu of the chorus. Very meta! The album then ends with two more industrial rock tracks, and 154 comes to a bittersweet end.

I have to say, for my first Wire experience, it was more intellectually enveloping than expected. The melodies are often eccentrically brilliant, and the hooks are subtle enough to make repeated listening a must. Indeed, I must have listened to the record at least four or five times to absorb most of the subtle nuances (albeit in fits and starts). While only half the number of songs appealed to me on an aesthetic level, I can safely say that anyone with interest in Goth Rock, Grunge, Progressive, Alternative, Metal, or angsty Punk in general will find something to cling to. It’s a tough unforgiving ride, but the influence 154 has had on the post-punk bands of the 80s is something that cannot be overlooked.

Final Verdict: 4.0/5

KING SUNNY ADÉ - Isele Yi Leju (2013)

Review by: Mark Maria Ahsmann
Album assigned by: Jaime Vargas Sánchez

Well, I like it.

I find it difficult to put in words what I like about it. It's JuJu, a genre of music which I know almost nothing about except that it's a form of African pop music from Nigeria and King Sunny Adé is one of the most renowned artists therein.

So: a non-review.

The last couple of weeks I've been living in a redecoration job that's gotten completely out of hand – let's say a demolished and leaky bunker with too many personal belongings in it for comfort. And shaky shaky wifi. And the occasional headache caused by ammonia fumes. So that's how I listened to this album. It is good music to do some housepainting to. Though my helping hand Franz Ferdinand disagreed; he said it annoyed him. Then I had to put it off; to humour him. Anyway; I dug it but I didn't have time to read up on the subject, let alone review the album.

The music is characterized by grooves of polyrhythmic drum and bass playing (all kinds of different traditional percussion, I suppose) very fluid and clear mulitple guitar lines and call- and response type of singing; the unobtrusive and very sweet, melancholic voice of Adé taking the lead. Of course I don't have a clue what they're singing about.

Adé had a moment of fame in 80's when a couple of his albums, Synchro System and Aura, (maybe there were more) were released on Island and distributed worldwide to general positive reviews. I missed out on Synchro System, heard it at a friend's place and bought Aura instead. So that's how I knew about King Sunny until now. Typically I never heard more than these two albums, my attention moved on, and I think that's exemplary for how many western listeners listen to “World Music” – from hype to hype.

Isele Yi Leju contains recordings from before the Island years. I suspected that Adé's sound on the Island albums was adapted to a large extend to what western audiences demanded. Also because the rhythmic patterns are not dissimilar to those used by Talking Heads and Peter Gabriel, to name but a few. However, this is not the case, apart from the obligatory 80's stereoids treatment on the drums the sound is mostly the same.

There's also a large resemblance to traditional Surinamese music, Kawina and Kaseko, that you hear a lot if you live in Amsterdam (as there are many people with a Surinamese background here).

This is music that is better experienced in a live setting or at a party – great for hip-shaking. When heard in the background it can become a bit monotonous at times. But the painting comes along nicely with this album. As long as Franz Ferdinand isn't here.

You should try to redecorate my apartment for a change. See how you like it. Anyway, I have work to do. Fixing a hole.

BROADCAST - Tender Buttons (2005)

Review by: Jared Walske
Album assigned by: Eric Pember

I'm not familiar with all of Broadcast's output - I really only know this album and their debut, The Noise Made by People - but I find it very easy to believe that this is their peak as a band. The same kind of icy and dreamy pop sound that was a dominated Noise is still here, but it's been augmented by a sharper edge that gives their music a little more kick without overwhelming the softer aspects of their sound. A superb example of this can be seen in the opening track "I Found The F". Musically, it's not dissimilar to the kinds of songs Broadcast were already known for, but their earlier material would have used a less coarse-sounding synthesizer tone and would not have emphasized the drums and bass line as much. this becomes every more prominent on the following song, "Black Cat", which is driven by abrasive bed of electronic noise underneath Trish Keenan's vocal line. This blending of the pretty and the spiky runs throughout the album and while I could see someone getting tired of the sound by the end of the album, I don't count myself among them. Listening to this album always makes me a little sad that Broadcast only made one album in this particular mode and makes Trish Keenan's death in 2011 all the more tragic, as I think her singing and vocal melodies are what really help hold this album together. Give the album a listen and then tell your friends to listen to it too. You won't be disappointed.

Highlights: "I Found The F", "Black Cat", and "Corporeal" stand out as obvious highlights for me, but I suspect that's more personal preference than anything else.

Lowlights: None. Unless this style of dream pop doesn't do anything for you, you'll probably at least enjoy everything here.

CROSS RECORD - Be Good (2013)

Review by: Eden Hunter
Album assigned by: Dinar Khayrutdinov

Be Good, the first full-length release from confused indie rockers Cross Record, opens with three minutes of tenuous bass mumblings. It sounds both inescapably fragile and powerfully creepy, and that’s a feeling that carries itself through the album’s whole runtime. Even in the most dramatic, grandiose moments, there’s a constant sense that this is all some kind of pose, as if everything could fall apart if you pressed the wrong buttons.

Cross Record are masters of atmosphere, and, in addition to the fragility they summon, there’s also a palpable cloud of grimness passing over the whole album. The instrumentation constantly retains a sense of hazy ambiguity. It’s assisted by the lyrics, which always feel masterfully curated to summon both visceral emotion and atmosphere. There’s a moment in Cups in the Sink where everything slows down and the lyrics repeat the words, “Let me go/Please just let me go.” Emily Cross’ vocals fall somewhere in between Joanna Newsom and Chelsea Wolfe, and when she’s putting forth indictments as searing and brutal as that, another truth comes to mind; Be Good is absolutely terrifying music.

This terror is perhaps captured most powerfully on late-album highlight Dirt Nap. It builds up through an increasingly punishing pattern of monastic drumming, before exploding into a series of harrowing sonic revelations. The track is only four minutes long, but more than anything else on Be Good, it feels like a comprehensive statement.

Dirt Nap’s strengths, however, highlight a whole lot of the album’s fundamental weaknesses. At around four-and-a-half minutes, it’s the longest track on Be Good, and it’s the only one that really gets the chance to thematically resolve. There’s a whole lot of really interesting stuff happening on the album, but it feels like Cross Record aren’t really working towards anything. The end result is more like a haunted house than an existential revelation – a superficially harrowing atmosphere hiding what is ultimately fundamentally contentless art.

65/100

VERSHKI DA KORESHKI - Vershki da Koreshki (1996)

Review by: Eric Pember
Album assigned by: Mark Maria Ahsmann

Man, this is even harder to review than the Peter Tosh album was. It’s basically just moody jazzy throat singing. I think I’d go batty if I were to listen to this all the time, but it’s rather neat to listen to every once in a while.

KATE BUSH - Aerial (2005)

Review by: Jaime Vargas Sánchez
Album assigned by: Jonathan Birch

The first impression that I got when “King of the Mountain” started was “this sounds like a slightly nuttier version of Peter Gabriel”. But that’s an oversimplification. Yes, it has the expected belabored programmed backgrounds and synth sounds, and her vocals still have that edge that sets her apart from your typical female pop-rock singer. It also has several traditional sounds that are very welcome in an album like this. For example, in the opening song, after the first chorus the listener runs into a rhythm guitar that, not only has a decidedly retro sound but is mixed much higher than guitars in contemporary pop usually are; I think that the relative level of the guitar in the mix is as responsible as the tone, if not more, for the “Sixties” vibe I get from it. The contrast between this guitar (mistakenly described as “reggae” throughout the Internet) and the 80s rock drum sound is interesting.

But sonic variety works also in a macro level. For example, “Pi” also has live drums but this time they sound like prog rock drums, which alongside the acoustic guitar, bass synth and pulse-wave shaped keyboards (a la “Won’t get fooled again”) should sound like a Seventies throwback… but it doesn’t. And throughout the album? We get Renaissance flavourings (“Bertie”, which is by the way Kate’s son and the reason why there was a large time gap before this album; the inspiration is worth the wait). We get piano ballads. We get guitar-based, New Wave-ish pop (with bouts of funny noises). We get electronica-influenced backdrops.

However this is not a simple exercise of style. Apart from all the art song trappings the album features genuinely moving melodies, sung expressively, and idiosyncratic but heartfelt lyrics. Who else would write a poignant piano ballad from the point of view of a housewife daydreaming while washing a load of clothes? (“Mrs. Bartolozzi”). Or a song like “Pi”, which seems to be about a mathematician (or maybe an autistic savant?), set to a rhythm that paints a vivid picture of the protagonist dancing, alone, oblivious to everyone, in his room with the decimal figures running through his brain? Or a song like “How to be Invisible” which you probably have to live inside Kate’s head to decode any metaphors and hidden meanings, if there are any, that is?

After the incredible stretch that spans from “Pi” to “How to be invisible”, “Joanni” seems to me a relative letdown, but “A Coral Room” is starkly beautiful, not as instantly memorable as the rest, but a grower and a suitable conclusion to the first CD.

Ah, I didn’t tell you this was a double album?

Well, what would you say if I told you the second CD consists of a single piece?

Actually “A Sky Of Honey” is a kind of a suite comprised of individual linked sections. Shades of “Thick as a brick” or “A Passion Play” here (actually, like the latter, the different sections have their own titles, and the first CD edition had them indexed separately; the reissue just has it as a single 40+ minutes track under the title “An Endless Sky Of Honey”).

From what I’ve read elsewhere, the suite just describes a day of leisure from beginning to end. Hardly the most epic of subjects, but domestic bliss seems to be one of the main themes of the whole album, and Kate tackles the subjects she wants to tackle, and who am I to object.

Sonically, this second CD is less varied than the other. Not only that, while the concept is interesting, the actual execution is, if any, more conservative than in the first CD, with several segments that sound like Eighties flashbacks. “An Architect’s Dream” in particular sounds like a textbook on how to sound like 80s Top 40 pop (you know – the synth pads, the DX7-type metallic lead synth lines, the programmed congas, the fretless bass, the so-low-you-cannot-hear-it acoustic guitar; the works). Most of the music passes by at an easy slow to mid tempo, but it kind of accelerates towards the end; the final sections range from “Somewhere in between” (a moderate pop piece with a very good and agile vocal melody in the chorus) to the lite funk of the (deceptively named) “Nocturn” and the unrelenting four-on-the floor of “Aerial”, complete with a bizarre laughter section and an unexpected epic guitar solo. Both of those are also sections which could have easily come from a 80s record, and in the case of “Nocturn” it might be not even a 80s Kate Bush record, but a 80s Fleetwood Mac record at that. Apart from those, the only section where it picks up the pace is the second half of “Sunset” which is arranged in a rumba flamenca style. Kudos for the effort, although with the preprogrammed handclaps and shouts it sounds more than a little inauthentic. That “Sunset” segment, however, might well be the best part of the entire cycle; at the beginning the backing is an unobtrusive but lilting jazz-lite, the vocal melody is memorable both in the undulating “sea of honey (…) sky of honey” phrase and in the pixie-like end of the verse, and if you’re willing to forget its plastic qualities, the ending rumba is a suitable finale.

To me, maybe the most memorable purely musical hook in the suite is the four-chord piano riff that forms the basis for “Prologue” – which despite the name is a full-length song. Not everything is; apart from the short instrumental “Prelude” there are a couple of short “links”; of those, “The Painter’s Link” is interesting with its guest spot for Rolf Harris’ vocals and the uplifting choir of Kates.

In summary, this is not a groundbreaking Kate Bush album, but it is more or less on the same level as her classic material. Which means it is highly recommended if you like your music non-trivial, artsy but not self-consciously “difficult”. If the middle of the road was as well-crafted as it is here, everybody would want to run through it.

On a personal note I have been haunted for days by the main keyboard riff of “Pi”, which, by virtue of whatever strange neural connections I have in my brain, insists on being merged with the coda of Dire Straits’ “Telegraph Road”. Weird thing, the human mind. Which is fine by me as far as it can produce works as good – and as needed in the comparatively barren landscape of the post-millenial musical world – as Kate Bush’s “Aerial”.

SUN CITY GIRLS - 330,003 Crossdressers From Beyond the Rig Veda (1996)

Review by: Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan
Album assigned by: Tristan Peterson

This is not an easy record to like; at least not on the first few tentative listens. Things are made difficult from the start and the first couple of tracks present a particularly serious obstacle to the casual listener, uninitiated into the ways of the Sun City Girls: hideous shrieking vocals that are reminiscent of nothing so much as a cat being slowly strangled or roasted alive over an open fire set to a feeble, scratchy accompaniment of out of tune guitars played with such obnoxious artlessness that your instant first reaction is to curl your fingers into a fist and head for whatever sound source that the music is emanating from. The point being that this is pure aural troll-ery at its finest and most music fans would feel no qualms about giving up on the record after having stuck it out for, I dunno, the first 5 minutes or so. 

I decided however to persevere and try and overcome my initial, understandable aversion to the Girls’ unrepentantly autistic levels of zaniness. And lo, my persistence was eventually rewarded. The album gets much more engaging and much less annoying as it progresses, and it improves even more on successive listens -- and although those scrawny vocals continue to be a point of contention for me, taken as a whole the record is definitely more hit than miss. The idiotic swirling chaos that marks the very beginning of the record settles down to a much more compelling musical morass that edges towards drone-y minimalism on the second disc -- and fuck those guys can really play. What you get for the most part is actually fairly conventional as far as late 20th century popular-avant garde music hybrids go; Sun Ra especially seems to be a big influence. 

I’m not really au fait with the rest of the Sun City Girls’ catalogue so I don’t know whether their other albums are this consciously ‘eastern sounding’ or whether this record was a focused attempt on the part of the band to discover affinities with a host of different asian musics, here ranging from gamelan and religious chants to hindi film tunes. They actually manage to do justice to the film tunes in question though with their thin nervy guitars and frenzied hysterical vocals it helps that the songs were utterly over the top in the first place. Cruel and Thin in particular seems fairly genuine and heartfelt rendering of the original (whatever it was; I wasn’t able to track it down) that really stands out in the midst of a record that is generally feels emotionally retarded if not deeply neurotic. But of course it wouldn’t be the Sun City Girls if one of the next tracks didn’t sound very much like a freshly castrated schizophrenic having a protracted argument with himself in an alley at three 3am to a vaguely gamelan-ish accompaniment. 

The highlight of the album however has to be Ghost Ghat Trespass, a collaboration with the great avant garde violinist Eyvind Kang that really showcases the group’s chops and allows them to stretch out their improvisational wings over the space of 34 minutes -- and trust me they go all out. 

7/10

UNITED WATERS - Sunburner (2014)

Review by: Francelino Prazeres de Azevedo Filho
Album assigned by: Steve Andrew Robey

Don’t get mistaken by this album’s name: it promises fire, but there’s no fire here. The element that prevails is water. Not clear, crystalline, French-Polynesian-sea water, either. These eight songs take place at the bottom of a murky lake, composing a psychedelic chill-rock record that stands out primarily by its extremely fuzzy vocals.

It almost seems like the singer is speaking from the bathypelagic zone, and it’s, texturally, pretty unique. If only he did sing something, instead of mumbling featurelessly and lethargically all the time! Due to this, not only are his words incomprehensible (at least for me, not a native English-speaker) but it is extremely hard to find any trace of vocal melody in most of the album. The only songs that approach a hook are the title track; the fifth one, ‘Our Beat’; and the closer, ‘Out of Flight’. The latter is also the only one to depart from the submarine mood, and only then in the coda, which legitimately feels like emerging from a long dive and is the strongest part of the album to me.

The instrumentation is sparse, but the guitars are good throughout the 37 minutes, with interesting riffs and cool textures, being the redeeming factor for many tracks. In fact, the album could be said to be defined by the conflict of interest between guitars and vocals. The guitars beg to be analyzed further, for they are not immediately attention-grabbing, but subtle in their intricacies. The vocals, however, are so dull most of the time, they actively contribute to make you not want to pay the attention the guitars need to be appreciated.

I feel sorry for the guitarist, who certainly deserves better, but I must give this album thumbs down. This is not an unpleasant album, by any means, and not an uninteresting one either, but it is very monotonous, lacks diversity and hooks, and there’s nothing there that makes me want to listen to it again.

THE RESIDENTS - God in Three Persons (1988)

Review by: Jonathan Moss
Album assigned by: Franco Micale

Franco loves the lyrics on this album, so I’m going to get them out of the way. They’re really good! I wouldn’t go quite as far as Franco in calling them “epic poetry” but they’re narrated with the humour The Residents are known for- of course for some that might be a sign straight away the album isn’t for them- and it does touch on some interesting philosophical themes. However I am no Alex Alex and thus cannot really go into the lyrics in any greater detail.

Alright, so this is an hour long concept album about a man called Mr. X - the narrator- discovering mystical conjoined twins with healing powers and touring them as a freak show. Then he tries to rape one and has an epiphany, or something. The story seems more like an excuse to visit Mr. X’s life and get some themes across than anything else. Anyway, the music, see the thing about the music is that due to the claustrophobia it seems minimalistic, though I’m not sure how genuine this is. Well, there’s a decent variety of instruments- guitars, synthesizers, horns, pianos, drums. Hell, even the synth, which I’d argue is the most prominent, switches between a low budget new wave sound and a grander, almost progressive rockish one. Still, the album definitely does seem to go for a similar vibe- one that seems to me to be like a seedy alley on an alien planet- and the Les Claypoolesque (only, y’know, this guy came first) spoken vocals give it a unity and repetition.

The album has been described as disturbing and while I wasn’t outright disturbed myself it does have some unsettling moments. But it also has a lot of fun parts! Take the first song (“Main Title From God in Three Persons”), which is dominated by pseudo-operatic female backing vocals that stay throughout the album, though not as prominent, save for some bits. Anyway, these slightly deranged vocals along with the almost show tune like melody serve to make it one of my favourite songs on the album. Then there’s “The Touch”, where they sing “fluttered down” which is very catchy, though in a different mood it could sound annoying.

The vocals could easily be isolated from the music and still be somewhat compelling, though I doubt you’d want to listen more than once. They’ve just got this quality, like they make this weird, new wavey avant-garde record also sound like a continuous talking blues song (a comparison I found original, until I read the Wikipedia page for God in Three Persons. If anyone asks I edited it).  

I must admit outside of other Residents albums for some bizarre reason this album reminded me of Philip Glass. Maybe it’s the minimalism- or the pseudo-minimalism- along with the female opera vocals. Now, these vocals don’t sound particularly similar to the ones employed in Glass’s operas but they serve a similar purpose and they definitely reminded me, to the extreme where the comparison was pummelling in my brain in an industrial headache that at one point got so intense I thought it was part of the album (not really). Outside of that this album seems split between artsy, melancholic songs, demented lo-fi children’s songs created by someone who hates children (and songs) and more peculiarly beautiful moments that remind me of their other album Not Available. And there’s some parts that sound like Scott Walker’s weird albums (sorry I couldn’t fit this in more naturally, I’m a hack). I would also compare it to Devo but let’s face it those guys were way better. 

The album is remarkably even, filled with poppy melodies, weird noises, artsy synths, catchy brass and eerie vibes (to clarify, not the instrument). Despite this there’s definitely some stand out tracks. One is “Fine Fat Flies”, which contains backing instrumentation that’d work in a noise record. There’s also “Loss of a Loved One”, which features the backing vocals singing “this is the sad paaaaart!” all meta like, backed by creepy- possibly synthesized- whistling and a mournful brass bit, while Mr. X narrates how his wife died (that’s why it’s the sad part!) Not even the detached southern spoken word can stop it from being a genuinely moving song with a peculiar sort of grandeur. The final song- Pain and Pleasure- also works well, sounding suitably climactic (backing vocals: “this is the end!”).

So, overall this is definitely a strong album, and probably one of the more accessible Residents album, to be honest it’s more art rock than avant-garde. Of course, this doesn’t stop me from pausing it when I hear my parents outside. 

MINI MANSIONS - Mini Mansions (2010)

Review by: Syd Spence
Album assigned by: Ali Ghoneim

1967, a mythical year in rock music. This year is when rock music began to explore new realms of musical possibility. R&B, Music Hall, Pop, Country, Folk, Blues, etc were transformed into a kaleidoscope of novelty. Likewise, people have been worshiping this year for decades, and Mini Mansions is another in a long line of nostalgia acts seeking to emulate that epoch.

Nostalgia is the key word here to describe Mini Mansions. This record sounds like the band really liked 1967, especially the Beatles’ Magical Mystery. And that is what they do, create psychedelic pop album with all those brit psych pop attributes. Harmonies, keyboards, astral lyrics, etc are all on display here, and well, i was bored literally midway through the first listen. Oh, they can create slightly catchy tunes probably on the par of one of those third string Brit psych groups like The Action or Kaleidoscope, but so what? This album was released in 2010! The epoch is gone, and I will say that if this record was recorded and released in 1967 it would be given all the acclaim and admiration of say Nirvana’s (the psych band) The Story of Simon Simopath. In other words, only record collectors scouring each and every record released during that period would even bother, and even then they would probably play it rarely.

That Nirvana album, as mediocre as it is, was at least was a product of it’s era. Mini Mansion’s debut is not. It’s the 21st century and paisley isn’t the hip new fashion. Perhaps, I’m being too harsh on Mini Mansions. I mean i too spent my time buried in the aura of ‘67, collecting every psychedelic relic i could get my hands on. I remember in college, going “Golly Geeze, I wish bands sounded like Piper era floyd again.” I’m as guilty of nostalgia worship as Mini Mansions, and i didn’t have the gumption to actually learn an instrument and make said such music. So kudos for that triumph.. 

Also, this is their first album made by relatively young dudes, perhaps in the future they will find their own sound, one that reflects novelty. There are plenty of examples of good bands releasing nostalgia pieces as their first record. The first one that pops up in my mind is Primal Scream, whose debut is just play ‘60s as much as possible. Later they released interesting genre crossing masterpieces like Vanishing Point and Screamadelica. So there is hope, but honestly, these days i don’t have any for rock bands.

See the production on this album is indicative of ourtime. It has all the digital perfection of a Mumford and Sons record. It’s bland, digital, and has no warmth or space that is oh so needed for great psychedelia. This is the grand problem with modern rock bands. They continue to use modern music equipment in a postmodern world, and thus it just doesn’t sound right. To my ears, digital productions sounds best on electronic and hip hop music i.e. art forms that use digital instruments. The use of traditional instruments with the sterility of today's production just innately sounds wrong. Don’t get me wrong i think a musical genius could possibly use these old instruments in this new environment, but for new artists honing their craft, it just sucks. 

So I’m giving this a THUMBS DOWN. And i wish the musicians would try to make music that reflects the times more. Psychedelia in a digital space would and does sound brilliant. Try that instead of this sad ‘67 worship.  

IT'S IMMATERIAL - Life's Hard and Then You Die (1986)

Review by: Andreas Georgi
Album assigned by: Julien Mansencal

When I was asked to review this album, I realized that I remember seeing the cover in record stores in the late ‘80’s, but I had no recollection of the music. The first thing that struck me is the incongruity between the expectations that the title and the “evil clown” album cover create, and the actual music coming out of the speakers.  Far from the sinister first impression, what you get is very melodic fairly laid back pop rock with a highly eclectic mix of influences ranging from folk to Celtic to country meshed into a coherent whole with some dark undertones.   I’m having a hard time making comparisons to any similar groups, frankly.  It is very much of its time (mid-80’s), but does not suffer for it.

The first song “Driving Away From Home”, evidently was a hit single in the UK. I must admit that my initial reaction was not positive, but by the end of the first listening I got to appreciate what these guys are doing - kind of Kerouac in Lancashire or Yorkshire. The singer does have a propensity to “talk sing” in a way that comes off a bit corny at times. The band seems to hail from Manchester, in northern England’s industrial rustbelt, and a lot of the lyrics reflect a theme of a difficult life in struggling post-industrial towns. “Happy Talk”, “The Sweet Life” and “Rope” reflect on this theme in various ways. The mood is gentle with a melancholic touch, but not morose.  Two songs, “Space” and “Ed’s Funky Diner” don’t work for me.  The latter was also a hit of sorts.  I appreciate what they’re doing – a kind of Waits – like cast of characters – but I just don’t care for it.  The slower songs work better.  “Festival Time” starts off sounding like it’s going to turn into Talking Heads’ “Cross-eyed and Painless” and ends up sounding like the carnival it describes – good one.  “Washing the Air” is a mostly instrumental piece with a James Bond guitar, and is another highlight.  The CD version, at least, ends with remixes of “Diner” (alluding to artist Edward Keinholz in the subtitle) and “Driving..”.

This one is one album that I didn’t immediately like, but definitely grew on me over a couple of listenings. I’m glad I gave it time. This not your average mid 80’s pop. There’s a lot of substance that rewards repeated listenings. THUMBS UP

JORGE BEN - A Tábua de Esmeralda (1974)

Review by: Julien Mansencal
Album assigned by: Francelino Prazeres de Azevedo Filho

When I subscribed to the reviewing chain, I certainly did not expect to be assigned a Portuguese-language concept album about alchemy from a Brazilian musician. It is rather difficult for me to comment on albums when I do not know the first thing about the context of their release, the subject of their lyrics or even the guys and gals who made them: I need something to hang onto when throwing myself into it. Here, I got nothing, and I simply do not have enough time to learn Portuguese (there is actually one track in English on this record, but it's the worst in my opinion), delve into Nicholas Flamel's arcane manuscripts or immerse myself into the South American pop/rock/whatever scene of the 70s and the career of the estimated Jorge Duilio Lima Menezes. This only leaves the music and me, a frightened parachutist without a parachute.

So, what did I think of A Tábua de Esmeralda? Well, I quite liked it. The overall sound is really enjoyable, with LOTS of tasty acoustic guitar (the intro to "Menina Mulher da Pele Preta" reminds me an awful lot of Lindsey Buckingham's acoustic work on some Fleetwood Mac tracks, especially the live versions of "Big Love"), and nice vocals from the female chorists or Jorge Ben's himself. He has a really sweet voice, and the way it blends with those of the chorists gives a very down-to-earth feel to the entire proceedings, as if everyone was sitting around Ben next to a fire camp, just singing and having a good time together. There is a tinge of Latin percussion here and there which works quite well, and a bit of orchestration in other places which works just as well; that's a melting pot quite unlike anything I've ever listened to seriously so far. My pickout track would be the last one, "Cinco Minutos", despite the false advertising (it only lasts 2:57), where everything falls together and culminates in a gorgeous finale.

This winter of 2015 is cold here, but A Tábua de Esmeralda keeps me warm when I put it on after a harrowing day outside; and isn't that what music should be all about?

THE BLUE NILE - Hats (1989)

Review by: Hipster Sokushinbutsu
Album assigned by: Nina A.

Let me start outright by saying that this album is very much a product of its time, since 80’s electronica rock, new wave, new romantic, synth-pop and sophisti-pop elements are (fairly predictably) the rules of the game here. This review is pretty much coincidental to a recent epoch in my life where I re-christened myself ‘Hipster Sokushinbutsu’ in the realization that listening to music so as to produce a review is essentially similar to an ancient Japanese self-mummification ritual. You leave the mundane behind and enter a solitary state of meditation, feasting on nothing but an austere and hopefully healthy diet of the single album you have chosen or been given to review, composing the goddamn piece of writing whilst removing all the mental distractions amounting up to the fat that obscures your Inner Will - which is: to compose a multi-paragraph masterpiece of perfection that hopefully produces a change in the Universe in accordance with the aforementioned Will. Once you get done with yourself, you’re preserved for posterity as a sight to behold.

ANYWAY.

The Blue Nile, though quite well-renowned, were totally unfamiliar to me before I got this album to review. I have a soft spot for 80’s as a decade and music isn’t an exception. Yet due to my taste craving mostly the unusual sounds for some time now, this pop and ‘alternative’ album so representative of the late 80’s was able to escape my radar altogether. It came out the same year as The Cure’s Disintegration which happens to be my #1 favorite album of all time, and though darkly reflective and deliciously nostalgic, the two albums aren’t twins by any stretch of the imagination in my mind. The former was conceived on LSD by a depressed musician holing up in an apartment for a while with the woman of his dreams and coming up with anthems – if indeed they could said to be anthemic – of doom and gloom that are the soundtrack of the universal psyche, of love and loss. This album is the kind of music you’d love to listen to on the open top of a skyscraper, wind blowing in your hair, looking down on urban blinkenlights as the great tide of humanity goes about. The former is about closing down and drawing inward, this one is about bursting outward.

'Over the Hillside' starts with a tight synthesized drumbeat and spacey keyboard intro that languorously gives way to an infectious pulsating rhythm in a way that is uniquely intoxicating. Then comes the emotive crooning of Paul Buchanan, an ode to the beastly daily ritual of Work humanity is victim to since times immemorial, or at least since someone invented the less-than-a-good-move idea of 'earning a living' as if being a human being is not an honor in itself but, ironically, a shackle that names its own price. So you're sitting at your table, probably in a cubicle, probably in your own room, working and wondering in the existential sense where this is even leading you. You look outside your little window and watch a train cutting a bend around the hillside, then going up and down the hills. There's something in that sinusoidal rollercoaster motion that reminds you of your own life, being very much the child of Circumstance, of Nature's forward propulsion that pokes, urges and sometime brutally prods everyone but those that have transcended mere matter, into further and further action, no matter how much you'd like to sit and brood on past hurts and present uneasiness. Enter the ubiquitous rock (a term that, parenthetically, some allege was coined way back by the CBS marketing division so as to produce a capitalistic economy of hipsteristic music consumption) fantasy: the done-to-death yet still vaguely and endearingly novel and fresh escapist motif of finding someone stupid enough to share your craziness and vanishing together into thin air – leaving and being never reborn in this fleeting world of woe and misery, a feat in Crowleyian terms not technically possible until you fully attain and go beyond the spiritual grade of 7°=4□. ANYWAY. Something sounding like a synthesized sax now makes an appearance, with the throbbing rhythm reasserting itself. A quiet desperation in the vocals leads you into a brief reverie that is oddly and strangely reminiscent of the famed (not actually famed but I personally think it deserves its own Facebook page or smth) crescendo of Alcest's “Percées de Lumière”, yet nothing quite like it and relatively subdued. It is a nice but ephemeral episode, and presently you re-enter so-called reality and coming to grips with the brutal ironies of earthly existence you have to tag and bookmark that bit for some later time. Things get strangely variegated as a slightly new-age funk-like groove kicks in with soaring synths serving as the atmospheric backdrop, and as the beautiful track ends, you're left wondering whether to rewind or to fast-forward ... not the album but the events of your very life, though in logical terms the former would naturally ensue from the later unless you use your God-given self-will to decide otherwise.

I can't go on and I can't go back

I don't feel so, matter of fact

I tried and tried to make good sense

What's the good to try it all again?

So the mood for the album is set. The Blue Nile have drawn you in. ‘The Downtown Lights’ starts with a chime leading to the familiar rock rhythm. The song is literally about taking a downtown stroll, with your sweetheart – or with her spectre – by your side. There isn’t much in terms of variation or development, yet for some reason this song is the first single from this album. “Let’s Go Out Tonight” gets off to a start with a droney soundscape and gentle acoustics. The mood is once again that of urban loneliness and the wistfulness of imploring someone out; the single itself is slightly reminiscent of Katatonia’s “In The White” in terms of the imagery it conjures.

“Headlights on the Parade”, the second single, is something early Depeche Mode could have made. A stout bass and drum rhythm interplay leads to the some heart-melting vocals, lyrically continuing the tradition of two previous songs with some hypnotic keyboards and piano synths at work in the background. It is on “From A Late Night Train” that the direction followed by the previous tracks is curtailed and some new ideas are introduced. Some ambient-ish lounge-y atmosphere and sax with slow jazzy pianos with vocals filled with a slow, deep-felt passion narrate a story of past love and present loneliness. The closest analogy in purely thematic terms I can think of would be Alice Cooper’s “Stolen Prayer” or John Martyn’s “Man In The Station”. Slow, placid jazzy keys bring this to a tranquil end and we lead on to “Seven A.M.” which is upbeat enough to yank one out of the longing accumulating in your mind over the course of the previous track. Once again Depeche Mode sound-alike-ness kicks in but again not much going on in terms of novelty.

The ending “Saturday Night” seems to be a strong track here. It has an atmospheric and artsy post-punk / new wave vibe to it and deals with the theme of a Saturday night rendezvous with someone ordinary yet very special.

Overall, I think the album has its good moments and a romantic, sensitive, wistful vibe, not to mention Buchanan’s powerful vocals, but being a bit too formulaic it is not the kind of thing I would like to listen to on a very regular basis at all. People who love 80’s feels-y poppy electro-rock will find it a welcome addition to their catalog, and perhaps do it more justice when reviewing it. If however you like challenging or cerebral music, or some original sonic atmosphere, this will probably not end up on your regular rotation.

7.2 / 10

HARMONIUM - Si on avait besoin d'une cinquième saison (1975)

Review by: Steve Andrew Robey
Album assigned by: Jonathan Hopkins

For true connoisseurs of progressive rock, this album has become revered as an excellent example of the progressive folk subgenre. A progressive rock website I used to frequent placed it in the all-time top 20 albums at one point (based on consolidated site member ratings). When I first heard of this album several years ago, being not particularly interested in skinny guys with pointy ears and beards prancing through the forest playing flutes, I was not particularly quick to give this album a listen. Simply because when I heard "prog folk", that was the image that came up in my head.  Subgenres and classifications are easy to fall prey to - once you think you know a subgenre, you tend to think you know what a band will sound like even before you put it on. This is a mistake which I try to prevent myself from making, but old biases die hard. In fact, I considered myself "burned out" on prog rock in general about a year ago, and although I have a fairly extensive prog collection and have even written reviews for prog publications in the past, I really haven't listened to much prog in a while.

This turned out to be a blessing in disguise. When Jonathan assigned this album for me to review, it seemed to be an ideal time to approach it. Since I've been away from prog for a while, I could give it a fresh listen, not as a prog album/prog-folk/whatever-new-genre-tag-has-been-invented-this-month, but as a piece of MUSIC played by PEOPLE using their own particular creative vision and skills.  That's something that's easy to forget when approaching music from an academic, neatly-categorized angle: all those great progressive bands from the late 60s and early 70s were basically making it up as they went along, in the best possible sense. They were in an environment where they were encouraged to be as creative as they liked, and as a result all these new combinations of musical ideas started happening. Take Yes, and "Close to the Edge" - I read somewhere that the band admits they really didn't know WHAT they were doing, only that they wanted to take chances and really push themselves to make something original, and just see what works, using their own particular talents to their greatest advantage. BOOM. A timeless classic is born. They weren't going down some checklist of "elements of a prog song" and checking them off.

Harmonium seems to me to display that kind of spirit as well. Hailing from Quebec, they began as more purely folk but by their second album the decided to broaden their scope and see if added complexity could aid in painting a more sophisticated musical picture than the more traditional music forms they had tried thus far. They took a chance, and history has proven that whatever they did worked like a charm. So what did they do?

The title of this album translates to "If We Needed a Fifth Season", and it so happens it is a concept album about the seasons, with five tracks.  See where this is going? The first four tracks each represent one of the four seasons (Frankie Valli, Bob Gaudio,.... no wait, wrong seasons), and the fifth, epic-length track represents the hypothetical fifth one. Not a bad conceit for a concept album, but nothing mind-blowing either, though I confess I don't understand French, so the lyrics may be a revelation for all I know.

Musically, they keep it mostly acoustic and gentle, with flutes, clarinets, acoustic guitars and basses, warm Rhodes electric piano, and Mellotrons. The vocals often employ excellent harmonies. Very little drums or percussion, if any at all.   I was often reminded of Anthony Phillips' solo work - with "pastoral" being the operative idea, except that in place of Phillips' classical leanings we have an almost jazzy feel at times. If you've ever heard the classic early albums by Banco del Mutuo Soccorso, their quiet sections remind me of this album too.

Where this album sets itself apart is in the sense of fun and playfulness in some of the material. The opening track "Vert" (representing Spring) begins rather austerely but soon acquires a certain swing, with groovy electric piano. The second track "Dixie" (representing Summer) employs an honest-to-goodness Dixieland style, with rollicking clarinet and barrelhouse piano and a brisk tempo. These two tracks set a unique tone for the rest of the album; even though the remainder of the album tends much more towards the serious side of things, you somehow know that anything might happen. And while they never employ whiplash-inducing shifts in style or tempo, they do put each piece through a number of subtly different movements that gives their musical painting a more three-dimensional perspective.

Most of the attention from prog-lovers goes to the aforementioned fifth track/season, "Histoire Sans Paroles" (translates to "Story Without Words"). It does in fact feel like a separate work, a "concerto" to which the other four tracks serve as a prolonged introduction. While it does have some lyrics, it doesn't have many, and the focus is clearly on painting a detailed portrait of what this fifth season would look, feel, and smell like. After four or so listens, I find I still have a hard time keeping my attention all the way through, but I can vouch for the fact that it is a beautiful piece, probably falling somewhere between autumn and winter mood-wise (the autumn and winter pieces on the record are notably more somber than the spring and summer ones).

In conclusion, I have mostly good feelings about this record, though I do often wish it displayed a bit more aggression, if only to put the quieter sections into greater contrast. Of course, to insist on something like that is probably missing the point, and I recognize that. This album does not want to beat you over the head, and it doesn't want to advance the idea that the passing of seasons is any more action-packed than it is. It is a tribute of sorts to the beauty of the natural processes and cycles that characterize our earthly existence. And it's done with impeccable taste (nothing cheesy about this album, and no show-offs allowed), sensitivity (a mature perspective on the complexity and perfect balance of nature), and even humor. If this is how the Earth's natural processes feel to them, then this must be a pretty nice place to live.

SQUEEZE - Argybargy (1980)

Review by: Nina A.
Album assigned by: Jeremiah Methven

"They do it down on Camber Sands, They do it at Waikiki" is the lyrical cold open of the first song on this album and make no mistake, the song is truly about doin' it. In fact, I suspect most of the album is about doin' it but this has somehow been cleverly obfuscated in clever lyrical detail or some exotic 80s British slang.

Anyway, Argybargy, Squeeze's third studio offering, is perhaps not quite as silly as the title and cover art would imply but it is definitely every bit as fun. It also feels like a solid album through and through with a some nice variety between the songs and very dependable production. 

Most of the songs on here are some very well crafted 3-4 minute pop songs with an energetic pulse and a nice buildup. The aforementioned opening track, for instance, delivers its title "Pulling mussels from a shell" as a punch after painting a nice lyrical and sonic contrast between people lazing about and reading Harold Robbins' paperbacks on the sands of some English holiday resort and his epic William Tell-like experiences "behind the chalet". And there is indeed a lot to appreciate in the way of lyrical details on this album (my favourite being the packed sequence of "From the Isle of Dogs // To the Egyptian sands // Where the Arabs chew on dates"), however some of these are easy to miss because they are not given enough space to breathe in the more energetic songs.

There is a nice variety of themes for the lyrics, as well - "Misadventure" is possibly about smuggling substances through airport customs, "I Think I'm Go Go" is about the hectic experience of touring (although I am a bit wary of the list-like nature of the lyrics that usually signifies someone is about to brag about how good / bad they are having it), "Vicky Verky" is about teenage pregnancy and "There at the Top" is apparently about an independent modern careerist woman.

Of course, lyrics are not what you would come to Argybargy for, it is the great melodies and hooks, the tight rhythms and the tasty production, which builds each song up nicely. There is something to be said of the way the layering of instruments keeps the variety in the post-chorus of "Separate Beds" or the way the cold and almost menacing synths and martial drums build the atmosphere in "Here Comes That Feeling".

The only filler tracks I managed to detect are "Farfisa Beat" - you can't expect too much from a song that begins with "Everybody's dancing to the Farfisa beat" and proceeds with interjections like "flash flash" and "wow wow" - and the boogie-woogie of "Wrong Side of the Moon". Both are enjoyable enough, however, even if they are not always up to the standard of everything else on this record, so they get a pass.

In conclusion, I would say that Argybargy is a solid and charming pop record and it is probably its solidness in pop hooks, rocking, production, and consistency that makes it so enjoyable, accessible and also recommendable.

THINKING FELLERS UNION LOCAL 282 - Strangers from the Universe (1994)

Review by: Dinar Khayrutdinov
Album assigned by: Andreas Georgi

Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, whatever that ridiculous name must mean, is a little-known yet really interesting band from San Francisco, which might at first give the impression of being yet another late 80s – early 90s postpunk/alternative/indie/noise-rock/guitar act, much in the vein of Sonic Youth or Pavement and such. But don’t be fooled by that first impression, because at least on this record Thinking Fellers offer enough diversity, weirdness and creativity to escape that kind of pigeonholing. This album manages to combine bizarre atmospheric experiments with melodic fun in a uniquely quirky way. 

To be perfectly frank I have never heard of these guys before I was assigned to review this album of theirs, so I’m not sure whether it is representative of this band or not, but here is my take on it anyway: it rules! Tight, minimalistic and precise arrangements, interesting, but never overly poppy melodies and plenty of tasteful guitars! Indeed, the guitar playing is possibly the strongest point of the band, which is not surprising considering that it features three (!) guitarists. From atmospheric texture-creation to melodic soloing to distortion and weird noises – most of the sound here is created using guitars, with only minimal synths or percussion added here and there. That said, this is in no way ‘classic guitar rock’ – the songs have more of a post-punk vibe to them, with the production being kept to a lo-fi minimum and the vocalists not even trying to err… “sing” in any conventional sense. 

What’s more, the structure of the album is as precise as their playing – it alternates ‘real’ songs with experimental noise/ambient links which are all very different from each other – from the excellent drony ‘Bomber Pilot WWII’ that invokes the very images its title suggests to the slightly silly ‘Communication’ which is obviously just some random studio dabbling. But even if you’re not a fan of experimental noisemaking, these tracks are never longer than 2 minutes, so they never overstay their welcome. The actual songs are of course even better, ranging from power-pop (‘My Pal the Tortoise’) to melancholy folk-rock (‘Hundreds of Years’) to krautrockish explorations (‘Cup of Dreams’) to friggin’ lullabies (‘Noble Experiment’). My favorite track here, however, is the gorgeous ‘The Piston and the Shaft’ – easily the most heavily-produced song on the album, with amazing interplay of the bass and several guitars and even some semblance of vocal harmonies in the chorus. This kind of song could make a fine radio hit too, if it weren’t for the dark lyrical matter (and maybe it WAS a radio hit on some alt-rock stations for all I know).

However, probably none of the above descriptions will give you any true impression about what ‘Strangers from the Universe’ actually sounds like. And even if I say that this is a weird cross between geometric guitar precision of Wire, noisy sincerity of The Fall and warped songwriting of The Residents, with a heavy dose of Can and Neu to boot, that still wouldn’t be even close to what you’ll actually hear. So if the named artists mean anything good to you, you’d better check this album out, I daresay it’s going to pleasantly surprise all lovers of indie-rock with experimental edge. 

MORPHINE - Good (1992)

Review by: Markus Pilskog
Album assigned by: Jared Walske

Morphine came out of the alternative rock explosion of the early ‘90s, though they didn’t really sound like much else from that period. A power trio with saxophones instead of guitar, they shared some of the darkness and rawness of those bands but infused it with elements of jazz, blues and funk to create something that was quite unique.

The lineup in this debut consist of leader and main songwriter Mark Sandman on vocals, (a quite prominent) bass and some other instruments, Dana Colley on various saxophones and Jerome Deupree on percussion (joined on some tracks by Billy Conway). This lineup would last until Sandman died of a heart attack during a show in Italy (!). What is immediately noticeable is that the musicianship on this album is a lot higher than on your average alternative rock album, while at the same time being somewhat restrained (there isn’t really much solos here at all with the exceptions of some sax solos which are never overdone). However, the album is filled with slightly complex, but groovy and catchy bass lines, and rather varied drumming (sounds quite jazzy and varies a lot with the technique and use of drums, though my drum knowledge is limited). The saxophones replace the role of the guitar, coming with quite a lot of cool riffs or complementing the vocal melody (Do Not Go Quietly Unto Your Grave).

The band is really tight, and the music is surprisingly groovy, which together with the jazziness and the oily vocals makes the whole thing sounds damn cool (this album in general is great to show your friends how cool you are) and sexy (something that cannot be said for much other alternative rock). The songs doesn’t really grab you immediately, and on the first listen it is mostly the cool atmosphere and sound that carries you through, though on repeated listenings you discover all those small cool melodies (The Saddest Song is probably the best song melodically), riffs and subtle choruses. Still, it cannot be avoided that the album has a tendency to sound quite samey after a while. The vocals aren’t that varied, and however much they try, the combination of sax and bass runs a bit stagnant by the end. When you listen more closely, you see that the compositions are quite different, but when you’re finished with the album, you still get the feeling that the songs themselves are a somewhat hazy memory (which may have been the idea of the band, as the album sounds quite “hazy” itself). Their intelligent use of dynamics and tension make the album more interesting to listen to, and as long as you like their sound, there is no reason to neglect the album for the sake of diversity, but at least it shows a possibility for improvement (I listened to Cure for Pain some years ago, though I don’t remember how it sounded compared to this).

One of the things in music I really respect is whether the performers manage to realize their vision, and it seems that Morphine have managed precisely that. They have developed a quite unique sound that is engaging throughout the album, and both the songs and skills are good enough to make you keep returning to record, though its drawbacks also make you want to explore the band further. 

LONGWAVE - The Strangest Things (2003)

Review by: Jeremiah Methven
Album assigned by: Jake Myers

Rating: 4/10

Best Song: "Everywhere You Turn"

Well, I suppose when you review albums outside of what you would normally listen to, you're not always going to be that fond of what you hear. My initial Google search of Longwave suggested they would be a shoegaze group - I suppose this is true, but it's a very radio-friendly, polished version of shoegaze, and not really in a good way in my eyes. Admittedly, I don't have much familiarity with the genre outside of My Bloody Valentine. But where MBV at their best aimed to assault the listener with visceral yet eerily beautiful noise, Longwave's guitar drones are pushed into the background to emphasize the reedy voice of singer Steve Schiltz, who sounds like Billie Joe Armstrong of Green Day. Between the production and singing, it can't help but sound like fairly generic alt-rock circa 2003 with shoegaze guitars added in.

Honestly, on first listen I thought this album was pretty dire and that I was going to be giving it a rating like a 2. The overall sound is just not one that really appeals to me. But although I still don't really like this album, multiple listens did bring some out of the positives. The first two tracks strike me as overall solid and memorable - "Wake Me When It's Over" has a fairly lengthy atmospheric build-up, but generally lives up to it with a catchy chorus, and "Everywhere You Turn" borders on being a cheesy anthem, but it has some energy and genuine sincerity with its falsetto chorus, so I think it's a keeper. 

From there, it gets a bit more dicey. "I Know It's Coming Someday" has another memorable chorus, but is a little too anthem-by-the-numbers for my liking. The other slower songs like "Meet Me at the Bottom" and the title track are busts - Longwave is much more listenable to me when they play uptempo. When they go slow, Schiltz's delivery is cringe-worthy to my ears, with the part in "Meet Me at the Bottom" where he sings "they've got you by the balls" being a particular low moment. The rest all follows the same basic formula of generic alt-pop songs with droning guitars added in and varying between pleasant decency to generic mediocrity. 

Overall, there are some things to like here, but this doesn't just seem like music that has stood the test of time to me. It takes me back to my early adolescent days before I discovered the Beatles and only listened to 'alternative' college radio that played lots of bands like Our Lady Peace, and I'd prefer not to be taken back to those days. I suppose if I'm being generous, I could say they were aiming for a poppier take on shoegaze, but the overall result to me is a bland, watered-down version that veers far closer to radio-friendly 'alternative' bands of ill repute than to bands like MBV.

This review is also available at: 

http://methvenreviews.blogspot.com/2015/11/longwave-strangest-things-2003.html