Sigur Ros. Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust . 2008. 3.5 stars .
Iceland’s Sigur Ros have become synonymous with 21st century post-rock and for good reason. Initially stirring their brooding, neo-classical travels in the same icy gloom as innovators Godspeed You Black Emperor, Labradford etc, Sigur Ros added a strange endearing twist - soothing, choir-like vocals that lent their drama an air of hope and innocence, emotions the underground shunned and forgot. As a result, Sigur Ros, with all their E.T.-like charm, came out of the darkness and into popular consciousness, eventually lending tunes to apocalyptic films like Children of Men and Vanilla Sky . Deservedly, their breakthrough album Ágætis byrjun has been deemed as essential as Radiohead’s Kid A or My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless , as it carved out a sound that was harrowing, innovative and heartbreakingly beautiful. After such a strong impression on the world’s stage, pressure on the band surmounted. Where would they go next?
Harvey Milk . Life…The Best Game in Town . 2008. Hydra Head Records. 3.5 stars .
I had never heard of Georgia’s cult favorite Harvey Milk until last week when I randomly decided to catch their show in NYC. After having read a quick blurb about them in the paper comparing them to sludge/doom metal contemporaries Earth and Isis, I figured I would see what these surly dudes had to offer. Harvey Milk’s haggard and tired members took to the stage well after midnight, bemoaning technical problems, long stretches of highway, and whiskey, before taking big swigs and ripping into their set. This is sweaty, dirty, angry drinking music at its best. Their brutally loud and heavy performance, complete with drawn out riffs, lumbering percussion and bellowing anguish, has been captured beautifully on their latest disc "Life…The Best Game in Town" which I quickly picked up with ears ringing.
Harvey Milk’s influences are easy to spot, with slow crunchy numbers echoing the thunderous drones of The Melvins, the stoned bliss of Kyuss and the scrappy rawness of DC hardcore. Life is far from derivative however, as the band’s keen sense of pacing and dynamic shifts keeps things varied and interesting. You have the gentle to mental expanses of "Death Goes to the Winner" which contrasts a delicate and somber soft-sung intro with a surge of dense molasses. "After All I’ve Done For You…" is a rapid fire assault of tenuous, menacing soling. "Motown" sees the band practicing tight songwriting, rocking out within a clear and unified classic rock framework.
Life…The Best Game in Town succinctly summarizes the essence of Harvey Milk’s sound - thick as a brick and just as heavy and dangerous. Yet for all its violent outbursts there lies a tragic and longing heart within, hopelessly sentimental in its whiskey-soaked stumbles. I personally wanted to see more of the fragility that stealthily peaks its head out amid the Southern-fried mayhem, but oh well, sludge bands are rarely subtle in their approach anyways, so even the slightest nuance is quite remarkable. So yeah, if you like doom, sludge, hardcore punk and all that, check out Harvey Milk, they seem to encompass all that gritty territory quite well.
Wolf Parade . At Mount Zoomer . 2008. Sub Pop Records. 4.5 stars .
Well, I’m back from New York City, and seeing that I haven’t posted anything new in the past week or so, I need to get back into the swing of things with something truly noteworthy. I am relived to see that my brief hiatus didn’t sink my traffic, in fact I’ve had more visitors come by during my absence than any other period in the last month and half. Go figure.
Since NYC is the really the epicenter of Western cosmopolitanism, my trip was a great opportunity to take in a diverse soundtrack as I roamed Manhattan’s grid. Strangely enough, I would have a Montreal band blaring in my ears, washing over all the taxi horns and police sirens. Yes, I finally got a hold of the new Wolf Parade album, three (long) years after their breakthrough Apologies to the Queen Mary.
I’m happy to say that Wolf Parade have avoided the sophomore slump. After the much beloved, high-strung, art-pop weirdness that was Apologies , these fellows had a high watermark to surpass, and they have clearly met it with this geyser of creative energy. From the opening keyboard jittering of "Soldier’s Grin", you can tell that the band have found their sound, combining whacked-out, electronic dabbling with charismatic indie-rock artiness, wrapped around strange evocative lyrics and undeniable charm.
While the white-knuckled urgency that graced "Shine a Light" and "Grounds for Divorce" on their debut has been somewhat diminished, the extra space given to their newest work allows the band to focus on more elaborate song structures and dynamics, paving the way for expansive neo-psychedelic wanderings. Keyboards, particularly the hard hitting piano of "Call it a Ritual", are given greater credence on Zoomer, further articulating Wolf Parade’s theatricality. While this could have easily become a pompous mess, Wolf Parade never take things too far and use prog-like experimentation to highlight their wonderstruck sensibility, paying tribute to fellow "California Dreamers" who just want to enjoy a free and lovely life.
While its hard to find instant ‘hits’ on this record, unlike the more hook-laden Apologies , tunes like "Language City" clearly demonstrate the band’s knack for well-paced, progressive song craft. Though some songs are fairly stronger than others (the opening trio and epic 10 minute finale are clear standouts), At Mount Zoomer is devilishly entertaining all the way through. Fans will not be disappointed, and newcomers should be quickly taken by the wide-eyed quirkiness that sets them above the burgeoning indie-rock crowd.
The UK’s Esoteric have crafted a monolithic and disturbing work of art with The Maniacal Vale . I’d be hard pressed to name another album that rivals its sheer density, its suffocating power and despairing atmosphere. While its flaws are noticeable, namely its length (two discs!) and repetitive rhythms, it still manages to provide an enveloping emotional experience.
The sound here is quintessentially doom metal, with plodding guitars that scream and echo over unintelligible growls and slow, crashing percussion. Arpeggio riffs and ambient passages also lead to some psychedelic moments, adding to the expansive, swirling torrents of sound. The song structures themselves don’t vary too drastically, but they do contain clear movements that go through peaks and valleys, making The Maniacal Vale a captivating albiet exhausting journey. As an exercise in cathartic release, The Maniacal Vale is masterful in its execution. While some of its sections could have used some more direction and streamlining, its excessive qualities are part and parcel to Esoteric’s singular, uncompromising vision. Let it wash over you.
MMJ’s Evil Urges gracefully picks up were 2005’s Z left off, bringing together eclectic styles and influences into a festive and confident whole. Just as Z pushed MMJ’s sound from folksy, rustic indie rock to full-bodied arena-rock jams, their latest offering continues their evolution towards orchestral pop and funk, with many oddball dynamics thrown in. While purists may initially be caught off guard by the gauzy and free-wheeling nature of these 14 songs, repeated listens uncover the great variety and brave experimentation within, making this a work that grows on you over time.
The first thing many listeners will probably notice is Jim James’ uncanny falsetto on some of these tracks, most notably "Evil Urges" and "Highly Suspicious", used to full histrionic effect. The wails, coos and laughs give these songs a very strange, theatrical air, reminding me of some early Micheal Jackson songs, which can be either excellent or terrible depending on your tastes. These funk-inspired moments, while entertaining, seem out of place among MMJ’s previous output, and place emphasis on performance rather than tight song craft.
Luckily, there is some more familiar ground to be tread on here, including the infectious "I’m Amazed" where James’ stunning voice returns to room-shaking form. Other highlights include the groovy, bass driven "Touch Me I’m going to Scream Pt. 1" and the operatic "Librarian" which describes the hidden beauty of a bookish woman in the same lovelorn fashion as the late great Roy Orbison. MMJ’s genre-blending throwbacks are executed with great success, carrying the same stadium-filling grandeur possessed by many 70s era rock acts, but rarely seen in our contemporary (and highly disposable) music culture. While Evil Urges may make an awkward first impression, being an amalgamation of disparate pop and rock elements, it still provides some uplifting moments when given time to reveal itself. Despite my preference for their gritter and more straightforward material (ie. their unbelievable Acoustic Citsuoca EP), Evil Urges is still a refreshing listen that is amplified even further when placed within the context of the band’s continuous progression.
A friend of mine passed away on Sunday morning from a pulmonary embolism. She was very young so her passing is shocking and unexpected. There’s really not much I can say here, just my most sincere condolences to her family and friends. While I didn’t know her quite as well as I could, since I really only saw her within a wider group of people, I will miss her energy and spontaneity. Everyday is a gift my friends.
Sound has always been important in the work of David Lynch. More than any other contemporary filmmaker, he has used it to express the ineffable, the mysterious, emptiness, and chaos of life. The roars in Blue Velvet during rough sex. The explosions as Cage lights up in Wild at Heart. The stinging wall of gas, formless and unpredictable, as Henry visits the X family in Eraserhead. By fully exposing the arbitrary links between forms and concepts, Lynch’s brand of estrangement operates as a kind of Barthesian mythologist.
Gritty, plodding drone metal from Greg Anderson (Sunn) and Gentry Densley (Iceburn). Experimental and expansive, Ample Fire Within features the powerful, drawn out riffs that made early Earth and Sunn O))) records so compelling, and adds psychedelic elements to take the sound to new directions. The use of loose percussion, synth touches, brass and Eastern instruments gives Ascend a transcendental quality without becoming too detached from the swelling doom rhythm at its core.
As is expected from a Southern Lord release, Ascend’s debut is uncompromising and inventive despite its flaws. What detracts from the experience are the gravelly, Tom Waits inspired vocals that dominate "Divine", shredding an otherwise free-from composition with a forced and distracting performance. While this misguided effort only permeates on one track, there are only 5 songs here, so it pulls you away from the album’s impressive cohesion.
The following "Vog" and "Dark Matter" are stunning recoveries however, as they strike a successful balance between thick, sludgy metal and a more mitigated vocal delivery. The closing "Dark Matter" in particular demonstrates the potential this genre has for meditative and hypnotic experiences, as the duo take time and care in crafting an absorbing journey, winding and contracting across dark astral planes. With stellar, patient musicianship and meticulous attention to detail, Ascend reveals itself as a noble experiment that overcomes some missteps to take its place among metal’s more heady brood. If you’ve liked anything from Southern Lord (Sunn O))), Sleep, OM, Boris, etc), you’ll probably appreciate this.
Sweden’s Lifelover is one of the most remarkably unique black metal bands to gain recognition, in fact labeling them as ‘black metal’ doesn’t do justice to the experimental, genre-bending sensibility that runs through their work.
On Erotik, we find Lifelover’s aesthetics take on depressive, urban anxiety, moving away from the anti-social spaces of the forest and into dark, depressive city centers. In much the same way that Ulver’s Perdition City pushed them towards progressive structures and electronic sounds, Erotik’ s energy comes from a moody post-punk tradition.
Sinewy bass lines, angular guitars and keyboards provide stark, Gothic tones reminiscent of The Cure, Joy Division and Coil. Even some post-rock instrumentation, often capturing the spirits of Fluerety, Alcest and Mogwai, find their way in here. Deliberately paced, these 12 songs are cinematic in their production and often use samples and disturbing dialog to add to the album’s atmosphere. The anguished vocals range from hushed spoken word to deep bellows to high pitched screams, capturing both the restraint and release of some strange madness.
Conceptually striking, intricately written and passionately performed, Lifelover’s Erotik ranks as one of my favorite discoveries from Scandinavia. If you want something compelling and original while still retaining the expressive darkness of the underground, look no further.
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