THE SHIVAS - FREEZING TO DEATH
To the bourgeois hipster elite, “throwback” is a dirty word. The argument is that throwback musicians are just glorified cover bands, trying in vain to “recapture the magic” of rock’s “glory days” at the expense of originality or innovation.
Fortunately, that label just doesn’t stick to Vancouver, Washington’s The Shivas. They sound more like they climbed out of the time machine at around 1968 and immediately started fucking shit up and creating a huge mess of alternate timelines. The band wears its influences (The Velvet Underground, The Stooges) on its sleeves, but they only use them as guidelines, and even then, they prefer connecting the dots out of order.
Freezing to Death is their sophomore LP (out now on Closet Trekkie records), and this is the title track from it. About two and a half minutes into the song, Jared Wait-Molyneux, the band’s lead guitarist and vocalist, sings “I know that you want to be far gone/I know I can’t be your favorite son,” and then something strange happens: the bass overtakes the drums and starts leading the rhythm section. It’s a phenomenon that they manage to repeat more than once on the record. Bassist Eric Shanafelt’s finger work brings a ton of energy to this band’s sound.
In between verses, “Freezing to Death” chugs along like a krautrock song, and the machine tightness of the band really shines then. It’s a fun track with a catchy chorus, but I must admit that picking a highlight from this record was a painful experience; there are so many more marvelous moments that I wish I could share with you.
According to the Closet Trekkie website, the album is out of stock. Post a message on their comments page and beg them for a copy if you know what’s good for you.
DUST FROM 1000 YEARS - FAT
If WIlliamsburg, Brooklyn is supposed to be the pulse of the American music scene, then Bloomington, Indiana must be some kind of blood clot or clogged artery. Something about that mixture of soft water, Southern Baptist attitudes and terrible Bob Evans food makes the whole region a less-than-ideal breeding ground for musical creativity. I guess it wouldn’t be too out of sorts to think of Dust From 1000 Years as a turd-blossom; an unexpected gem buried in the acres and acres of knee-deep horse manure.
“Fat” is a track from their most recent record, Marble Memo, and it features an amazing opening set of lyrics and a cool build. It’s also one of the longest cuts on there, with most of the 19 songs falling somewhere between the one and two minute mark. Memo is structured sort of like a concept album, and there are lots of subjects that pop up enough to be themes (laziness, introversion, self-destruction), but you needn’t get too deep into any of that to enjoy it.
Lead singer Ben Rector howls like Daniel Johnston but with none of the anarchy. The group has a cool-headed, low key sound makes me think of some of the indie pop groups that came out of Chicago in the early part of the ’00s, like Bound Stems and especially the now-defunct Chin Up Chin Up. But you get the feeling that Dust From 1000 Years aren’t nearly as humorous as those guys, evidenced by their MySpace page where they list their official website as drinkvault.com. That playful attitude actually acts as a musical advantage; they are very adventurous and willing to experiment with their own formula, often yielding wonderful results.
One of the best choices they make time and time again on Marble Memo is giving their songs some room to breathe. Even though the track times are short, songs rarely just “end,” they trail off with explorations of noise and musical improvisation. Their instincts are great, their craft is exceptional, so why aren’t Dust From 1000 Years the next big thing?
Oh, right. Indiana. I don’t suppose the fast paced Bloomington live scene of has any room to accommodate this kind of music. What are you doing, boys? Get the fuck out of the Hoosier State and make for the coast where they’ll understand and appreciate you!
Marble Memo is out now on Moon Jaw Records. Buy it.
BRASSTRONAUT - LO HI HOPES
I wouldn’t go so far as to call the average modern rock band “homogeneous,” but I’ve certainly developed a soft spot for any group that dares to differ. The innovation of Vancouver, B.C.’s Brasstronaut probably won’t change the face of rock and roll forever, but they make their niche transcend gimmick and become truly great on its own merits. Simply put, their music is what happens when you cut an 8-ball of Plain Jane indie rock with a dash of improvisational jazz music.
Obviously, rock/jazz fusion is far from breaking news. But, historically, the method has been to water down both styles until they can be safely mixed into an uninteresting gray blob that turns off both jazz fans and rock fans. What makes this group so special is that they let both styles stand on their own legs in the context of a single song. When Brasstronaut is a rock band, they sound like a rock band, and a great one at that. But when the brass and woodwinds fire up, the group transforms effortlessly into a combo. The mad genius of Mt. Chimera, their first full-length album which is out now on Unfamiliar Records, is how well it all comes together.
I picked the track “Lo Hi Hopes” because it’s exudes coolness. John Walsh’s bass rocks without mercy and everybody else falls tight into place around it. Vocalist Edo Van Breeman doesn’t have the voice of a God, but he wraps it well around some creative melodies and even manages to bring a little bit of intimacy to his performance in the middle of a dense, complex arrangement. Then, the breakdown happens. Brian Davies starts trading trumpet licks with Sam Davidson on clarinet and, for a fleeting moment, I think, “Why can’t all pop music sound like this?” It’s funny how cartoonish the restrained aesthetic of indie rock feels when you stack it up against the visceral bravado of improvisational jazz.
Whether or not this means anything about the future of music, you’d better buy the record just to be safe.
MADITA - RUNAWAY
Viennese singer/songwriter Madita and instrumentalist/producer Vlado Dzihan join their talents to form Madita. If that name was the result of a long power struggle, then Vlado got beaten by a girl. “Runaway” is a song from their third album, Pacemaker. It’s a moody piece of dance pop with a pretty-faced, breathy Austrian alto in the spotlight. But the song is a great deal classier than you might guess, bolstered by Dzihan’s excellent production. There’s an awesome synth line about a minute and a half into the song that sounds like it could have been ripped from The Knife’s Silent Shout. But derivative or not, that moment where it transforms into first chorus ridiculously awesome. Err, at least I think that’s the chorus.
Like a lot of modern pop songs, “Runaway” isn’t content to feature just one hook. The increasingly aggressive environment of commercial radio has turned pop into the musical equivalence of major league baseball; every song is juiced up with as many catchy moments as humanly possible in an attempt to keep up with the competition. Not that I’m complaining. Pop is the art of manufacturing mass appeal, so if I come out of a song with more than one ear-worm, that ought to suggest that somebody was doing their job. Sure enough, every time “Runaway” wraps up, the wave of synths giving way to a lonely electric guitar outro, I am faced with the difficult task of deciding whether or not I should start it over again for the 4,000th time.
Pacemaker was put out in February by Couch Records, and it’s a pretty clear improvement over Madita’s previous work. There’s very little filler and most tracks are quick about cutting to the chase. This is also the first release where Madita’s vocal reach never exceeds her grasp. She may not have the massive octave range of a Mariah or an Aguilera, but she seems to be much more comfortable working within her limitations. And needless to say, Vlado’s production is a treat throughout. And yet, Madita still isn’t getting her due. If you’re one of those “take-action” types and you think this song is as dope as I do, you should show somebody else how they do it in Austria.
A recommended buy for bedroom singalongs and one-man dance parties.
WAIT WHAT - ISLANDS IS THE LIMIT (THE NOTORIOUS B.I.G. VS THE XX)
It’s official: the mash-up has finally crossed over from high fashion to low artform. In 2004, it seemed like music couldn’t get any more modern than an unlikely pairing of one artist’s beat with another one’s vocal. But there is a progression to all novelty: cult obsession gives way to mainstream acceptance and then comes the backlash. There’s no denying that it’s all been done to death, so why shouldn’t something like this inspire yawns, eye-rolling or even hostility?
But fuck it, it’s blog bait and I’m biting. The Notorious xx is a mixtape that does everything that its name suggests: juxtaposes some random samplings from the career of Biggie Smalls with last year’s hipster obsession The xx. The project was put together by Wait What, who probably should have just called themselves Notorious B.I.G. vs. The xx to avoid confusion. The results are probably exactly what you’re imagining: an ill-advised mesh of hardcore Mafioso Rap and post punk minimalism that has no reason to exist other than to hopefully act as a calling card for a producer who will be forgotten about five seconds after you finish reading this. The rare instances where it works are far outweighed by awkward, amateur failure.
Maybe I’m being too hard on the album. The cover art is really fun and appealing, and the songs that trade off between Biggie and The xx’s vocals feel pretty fresh and basically natural. There’s probably not a better illustration of this than on that song you’re listening to right now, “Islands is the Limit,” which blends Life After Death’s “Sky’s the Limit” with The xx’s “Islands” (yeah, all of the song titles are that uninspired). Not bad, right? The track is totally listenable. Even fun! Unfortunately, though, this little ditty is the exception and not the rule. On most of the album, The xx’s instruments have been slowed down with software to match the beat of Biggie’s rap, giving them a digital tremolo effect that is very obnoxious. If the whole record worked this well, I’d probably be singing a slightly different tune.
But maybe not. Something about this concept doesn’t sit right with me at all. What point is Wait What trying to make by stacking up indie rock’s flavor of the week next to Hip Hop’s most enduring God?
Whatever, that cover art is pretty funny.
This mixtape isn’t for sale (otherwise Warner Music Group would have a fatty lawsuit on their hands), but you can grab it now as a free download.
SOPHIE HUNGER - TRAVELOGUE
Today’s update is low-key and positively dripping with melancholy. Why? Because it’s Easter Sunday, silly!
John 11:25-26
Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die.
Nah, I’m just kidding. This isn’t that kind of blog. I guess I’m just in a bit of a downbeat mood. But whatever the reason, this song has hijacked my iTunes on repeat for the morning. It’s an album cut off of 1983, which is both the name of Sophie Hunger’s third full length and the year of her birth. For a singer-songwriter project, the music is very eclectic, running the gamut from bright and airy synthpop to funk stomps to Johnny-Greenwood inspired slow burns.
But I’m a sucker for the somber, and “Travelogue” is the embodiment of that sentiment. “Ready now, I’m goin’ now, nowhere…” croons Sophie (born Émilie Jeanne-Sophie Welti Hunger, I wonder why she didn’t stick with that?), with a voice as soulful as a white girl from Zurich can possibly muster. Whereas the lion’s share of the tracks on 1983 feature Sophie’s talented backing band (including Beat Killer’s Michael Flury on trumpet), this is a decidedly stripped down affair. Just a songstress and her guitar.
What is it about this song that I find so inescapable? My mind mind is swirling with the mixed Christian and Pagan iconography of this odd little holiday. As I toss and turn among visions of giant rabbits bloody with stigmata, twitching with Cadbury Creme Egg sugar highs as they storm over the hill of Golgotha, Sophie’s sad little song is resonating with something deep down and nostalgic in my soul. Her gorgeous performance is a thing of wonderment. What a potent, fragile and haunting voice.
1983 is out now on Two Gentlemen Records.
Balthazar is a four piece Belgian rock band that has what every new new group covets: a unique style. This is the lead single off of their debut full length release, Applause, which was put out by Munich Records on the 22nd of March. Beyond that, information is pretty sparse, but the music more than speaks for itself.
In addition to being a catchy, effortless, supercool pop song, “Hunger at the Door,” a pretty good introduction to the band. Like a lot of the tracks on the record, it features a heavy backbeat and the bass is front and center, but I’d hesitate to use the term “dance rock.” For starters, it’s in 7/8 time (not ideal for the clubs) and every chorus finishes off with an explosion of delicious guitar distortion and feedback more likely to inspire thrashing than a two-step.
Applause is unusually confident for a debut. The band’s prolific live experience probably has something to do with that. It’s clear that these songs were developed on stage rather than in the studio. Balthazar have been playing shows in and around northwestern Europe since 2004, so their first LP is a long time coming. That patience has paid off in spades. Belgium knows it, and it’s only a matter of time before the US and the UK catches on.
