Saturdays=Youth - M83

Saturdays = Youth
M83
Mute Records.

SCQ Rating: 77%

What the hell did John Hughes really do? Sure, the man directed Sixteen Candles and The Breakfast Club -two movies that explored adolescent confusion and high school politics in the 80s – but what made those movies so memorable (nostalgia for the 90s and apparent inspiration for the late 00s) had less to do with the filmmaking and everything to do with the bond between music and youth. Let’s not forget that the early 80s delivered the MTV Generation; innovative music videos and a new cultural movement that gave young adults the opportunity to feel closer to the music through wardrobe, opinion and attitude. How much Hughes had to do with his soundtracks, I’m unaware, but that is why people like Anthony Gonzales of M83 still site his films as inspirational; they are part of a zeitgeist that feels untouchable now, regardless of how many people try to revive its trademarks.

And try they have. Nearly five years after bands like The Rapture and The Killers came to embody what critics imagined to be the height of retro’s influence, M83 return with Saturdays=Youth, a record openly dedicated to everything 80s culture aspired to. If you’re anything like me – an ardent M83 fan or someone who dislikes mainstream 80s culture - that last sentence is rife with insecurities. To be as direct as possible and cut to the chase, Saturdays=Youth is hit-and-miss; a record that thrives off its muse as often as being buried by it.

‘You, Appearing’ is among the best ambassadors for the former, a piano-led slowburner that carries such emotional weight, it’s nearly a burden to love. Not only is it light-years beyond anything off Digital Shades Vol.1, it’s also the first of many new M83 classics: particularly ‘Kim & Jessie’, which encapsulates the sound of 80s melancholy like no other. When at its best, Saturdays=Youth balances its Goth-tinged moodiness with the cinematic arrangements that M83 are renowned for, and in those moments (like the luxurious ‘Couleurs’), we can hear how Gonzales has finessed his songcraft. Where Before the Dawn Heals Us was a cacophony of explosive synth and guitar attacks, the new M83 is refined to a more aerodynamic sound, choosing atmosphere over abrupt shifts in dynamics.

If only Gonzales was able to refine some of his excessive tendencies that, despite feeling appropriate to what we recall as the most excessive of decades, are guilty of inflating this record beyond small feats it possesses. The majority of these songs, even the highlights, are each about a minute longer than they should be; a mere sixty seconds that manages to diminish the impact and excitement of the record. In the most obnoxious example, ‘Midnight Souls Still Remain’ is a hollow repetition of two notes that travels eleven minutes without so much as a subtle shift. That this would’ve been unwelcome on Gonzales’ largely ignorable Digital Shades ambient record should indicate how unwanted it is here, and it’s sadly one of several stalemate tracks that fail to evolve beyond their glossy impression.

As we’ve come to expect from M83 (without Fromeageau, anyway, who left after 2003’s Dead Cities, Red Seas, Lost Ghosts), there is some undeniable cheese on display, mostly in Gonzales’ love of over-the-top drama. Amid the Cure-borrowed guitar licks of ‘Graveyard Girl’, we’re confronted with a young female who, after professing her love to gravestones, spouts “I’m fifteen years old, and I feel it’s already too late to live. Don’t you?”. I know that’s expected to be a rhetorical question but I can’t play along. For an artist who gives new meaning to the term ‘cinematic’, it’s troubling that Gonzales has chosen to contextualize his work to such narrow confines. Maybe I prefer the comfort and self-assuredness of being in my mid-twenties over those confused but swell-at-the-time teenage years. Or maybe I was too young to appreciate the technicolor glow of 80s culture; after all, I was only two years old when Sixteen Candles came out. My point is, so was Gonzales.

Love is Simple - Akron/Family

Love is Simple

Akron/Family
Young God Records.

SCQ Rating: 68%

“Now don’t start that shit,
that pit-er-pat bit bout
shamanistic shaker spells and
alpha beta grammar slides,
water belly floppy drivin’
stoneless skippin’ Brother John the
Headless one bathes baby J the
Chosen one a portal dripped down
From the sun, portals dripping…”

This quote messily sums up all of Akron/Family’s lyrical musing: the rhythm and energy of hedonistic living, the mysticism of nature and the connections between us. As such, Love is Simple rides an unpredictable sequence of druggy authenticity; a trip that is wonderfully euphoric as often as it is frantic and unnerving. Ranging from simple folk songs to expansive suites (often within the same track), this Brooklyn foursome shape beautifully elegant moments just when you assume a goofy tirade about some guy named Ed being a portal is going nowhere. And vice versa; the hand-slapped percussion and vocal harmonies that compliment ‘Lake Song’ are abandoned in favour of ‘New Ceremonial Music for Moms’; a tribal-pattern attached to the same track that thumps, screams, and, truthfully, ruins what could’ve been a great composition.

Despite the often-contradictory songwriting, every track is indispensably campfire sing-along material and fortunately, Akron/Family hone their respective talents into several true-to-form songs. ‘Don’t Be Afraid, You’re Already Dead’ is heart-on-sleeve lovely, a Let-It-Be style ode that echoes the record’s title in a way that should be roundly applauded. Another song that prospers when given attention is ‘Pony’s OG’, a distinguished coda of pulsing acoustic notes that swelters into a life-affirming peak that rewards its tense mid-section. These peaceful, reflective tunes are so expressive because, like travelers who’ve found their hard-fought destination, we’ve been immersed in the bizarre, rag-tag forest of freak-folk and it’s nice to find that much-needed breathing room.

Love is Simple, for all its resolute assertions, is a surprisingly difficult record to wholeheartedly approach, mostly because the musicians involved are equally trained to the task of acid-folk and classic rock. This artistic proficiency does pay off but expect this record to be a confounding mixed bag during initial spins. It’s a trip worth taking, if only to say that you’ve been there, done that.

District Line - Bob Mould

District Line

Bob Mould
Anti Records.


SCQ Rating: 90%

A casual glance at the life’s work of Bob Mould is eye-opening, not only for someone like myself (who has never knowingly listened to Husker Du, Sugar, or any of his previous solo work), but anyone who holds alternative rock close to their heart. While my ignorance to the service Mould has played in contemporary rock is undergoing some major, crunch-time schooling, even the most committed rock historian will find some additional grounds to deem Mould a shoe-in for Rock and Roll Hall of Fame status. If his punk roots, a sudden move to the countryside to record an acoustic album, or his electronic experiments included in my Wikipedia link fail to tantalize you into his solo work, you haven’t heard District Line.

Named after the Washington neighbourhood that Mould now calls home (not the busy London tunnel that some have assumed), District Line is a distillation of Mould’s multifaceted career thus far; the introverted mood of his solo work and Sugar-era pop hooks married to the electronic washes he mastered on Modulate. Or so I read. Whether these songs prove bolder in construction than his previous work is obviously not for me to answer, but his studied love of music (from his chaotic days in Husker Du in the 80s to his love of DJ-ing at Washington’s largest clubs) is expertly displayed in these ten songs of unabashed honesty.

The disc digs in early with ‘Stupid Now’, a modern rock song that thrives off recycled radio-structures without becoming stale; its repetitive lyrics and explosive chorus is engineered by someone who helped write the rules, keep in mind. This veteran status is evident throughout, not only because Mould allegedly wrote ‘The Silence Between Us’, one of the strongest rockers here, in five minutes, but because he never leans too heavily on tried-and-true ideas. ‘Miniature Parade’ is a late highlight featuring ascending cello lines while ‘Shelter Me’ is the sole track to be entirely electronic – a potential black sheep that not only herds well with others, but is perhaps the most impressive track here.

More importantly, Mould still seems intent on proving himself, as if he’s humbly unaware of his growing legacy. The lyrics of ballad ‘Again and Again’ are fatalistic but confident: “I took the bullets from the carport / Tossed them in my backpack / Placed a set of keys inside the grill / I left the title to the house inside the piano bench / And my lawyer’s got the will.” In an album that deals almost exclusively in finding yourself amid the turmoil of relationships, this set of lyrics is easily the most troubling. But still, when considering the lyrical content of most other middle-aged rockers (Tom Petty’s complaints against the record business, Springsteen’s steadfast attempts at metaphysical storytelling, etc,), Mould is singing about love and loss; two subjects that are sure to exclude no one.

After a career as diverse and original as Mould’s, District Line is a gift, in both its accessibility and its basic existence. At the age of 47, Mould continues to refine his songcraft to devastating effect, writing heartfelt but optimistic songs like ‘Old Highs, New Lows’ while his colleagues retire, or worse, relive their glory years in the B-class Casino circuit. District Line is too fresh to ignore, too comfortable to dislike and too addictive for me to describe. It’s a record that aspires to be top-notch rock, and while that might sound less ambitious than his resume would suggest, it’s precisely what we all need sometimes.

Demos 2008 - Matthew Good

My brother (a fellow Matthew Good fan for life) recently uncovered internet chatter concerning a series of MG demos that were circulating the acclaimed Canadian artist’s website forum. After a frustrating search and the eventual help of an altruistic MG fan/stranger, we found ourselves in the fortunate possession of EIGHT brand new Matt Good demos. What was more exciting, as we pressed play, is how much labour has been clearly put forward; these “demos” all feature full-band arrangements, often including a string section and some occasional production quirks. Although I feel like I may have peeked at my Christmas bounty well before they’re waiting beneath the tree, I still recommend seeking out these hard-to-find previews of what Matthew Good’s fourth solo album could potentially sound like.

******

The Boy Who Could Explode, I recall, was the first song I immediately took to; its subtle strings and ambience mark it as more polished than the majority of these demos. Even more commanding is Good’s vocals, which begin in a gruff and patient stream-of-conscious before taking off in a heavy, mid-tempo chorus. For those who haven’t heard it, I would place this song in the Avalanche-section of the MG Quality Barometer (meaning it’s very good); like ‘Near Fantastica’, it keeps to its tempo religiously while sharing a orchestral arrangement similar to ‘Weapon’. At the 4:30 mark, the chorus slows down and military-style drumming echoes under a gorgeous guitar riff as Good laments “What are you thinking?”. This four-word repetition never gets old, as Matt multi-tracks his vocals with the sneer that made old MGB classics so edgy, while near the song’s climax (6:15), Matt harmonizes several layers over that frustrated question, bringing it into a beautiful, if uncertain, close.

If Hospital Music is any indication (where the two shortest songs - beyond the two interlude tracks - are the covers), Good’s growing disdain for hit singles has made him a better songwriter. Here, we find several songs breaching the five minute mark and three reaching into eight minute territory; a running-length Matt would’ve marveled at as recently as last year. Empty’s Theme Park, at nearly nine minutes, is both the most elaborate and the most fist-pump worthy. I get the impression that Matt is still working the kinks out of this one: how he wants to sing it and how many verses he’ll iron out. What I hope is that he gives some thought to the drumming, which besides being as exciting as a drum-machine, is nearly identical to The Boy Who Could Explode. And perhaps it is a drum-machine… but it sure sounds enough like long-time MG percussionist Pat Steward. C’mon, work some dynamics in there!

Volcanoes is another mid-tempo rock-out that, despite resting too hard on its power-chords, builds into an impressive release. Unfortunately, this release is a flash in the pan when nearly half the track’s running-time is spent in the opening and closing orchestral atmospherics. This demo, more than any other, feels unfinished or stitched together from spare parts.

Fought to Fight It finds Good stepping hesitantly out of his comfort space with 80s Atari effects and Replacements’ guitar solos. It isn’t an overwhelming success worth changing his sound for but Good incorporates it well to a decent classic-rock influenced chorus. It’s scrappy and unlike any of his previous work, but would also be better judged when cleaned up in the studio. Right now, it merely sounds promising.

“Come on over, you’ll regret it,” Matt warns in the opening of Us Remains Impossible, and his casual devil-may-care tone fits the slacker, Pavement-style riff well. It’s so raw and dirty that I almost wince when the string section swells in to dull its edge. While the chorus isn’t poetry and Good’s multi-tracked vocals sound desperate, he has put some serious work into his harmonizing at the break between chorus and next verse, where we witness a street choir of Matt Goods, angelic and pitch-perfect. Although it is sonically closest to White Light Rock and Roll Review, Us Remains Impossible is another hard-to-pinpoint MG demo.

There might be a good song hiding in Bad Pennies but this demo isn’t the place to find it. The bass-line is anticipatory and the guitar riff is benign enough, but they are drowned out by too-loud and too many vocal layers. Beyond that, the lyrics feel improvised and the chorus is too one-dimensional for Good to be able to pass with. There are rare Matthew Good B-sides floating around that are infinitely better than this.

After the predominantly gloomy Hospital Music highlighted Good’s ability to wrap us tight in cotton-soft depression, I’m surprisingly excited to report that only one song here sports the melancholy of that great album. On Nights Like Tonight has the momentum of ‘Avalanche’ but the lyrical innocence of his pre-MGB demo days. As Good coos “Just sit tight. I’ll find a way to get to you,” after some emotional percussion and an orchestral swell (yeah, another!), I get chills in the same way the close of ‘A Single Explosion’ gets me every time.

I’ve saved maybe the best for last with Vancouver National Anthem, a pulse-pounding anthem that features a guitar riff that won’t be easily shaken from your ears and Good’s most impassioned vocals since, well, Hospital Music anyway. Good has long blogged about the inhumane way Vancouver’s homeless population is treated by city officials, and with the Olympic tents now pitched, poverty issues are being further shoved under the rug. Since Good lives in one of these less-prosperous neighbourhoods and has long been witness to the marginalization of the homeless, Vancouver National Anthem might be Good’s on-the-record response.

Happy Record Store Day!!

Today (April 19th) is Record Store Day – the annual celebration of those independent record outlets where many of us life-long audiophiles gather when the work-day ends. Long before I moved to Toronto, I would daydream about how great their record stores are. The selection and size of their downtown HMV and Sunrise were lifetimes better than the suburban outlets of the same name that I had been accustomed to. Thankfully, by the time I’d moved here I’d discovered far better places to find my music; independent retailers who hire employees who know what they’re talking about, play great new music, and pride themselves on earning loyal customers. Soundscapes, Newbury Comics (in New England), and Sonic Boom are each fantastic places to seek out new records and come across people who somehow make you feel normal. The idea of walking into a sterile HMV full of cheap Aerosmith CDs and overpriced indie CDs while hearing the latest Big Shiny Tunes mix blaring over the speakers is no longer something I consider to be expected.

These homes away from home are more important than ever now, and for that reason – matched with the fact that I’d somehow never heard of Record Store Day before yesterday – SCQ has prepared a quick selection of items you can only hope to find in the small, dusty confines of your favourite record shoppe. Today’s going to be a beautiful day; take advantage of it and visit your local music community.

Cities EP - Millimetrik (RECORD STORE DAY)

Cities EP (Limited Edition #95/150)
Millimetrik
Make Mine Music / Chat Blanche Records.

Discovered at: Dr. Disc (Hamilton, ON)

SCQ Rating: 72%

Millimetrik (AKA Pascal Asselin) is one of the few Canadian ambassadors to electronic music who I can name that are still virtually unknown. Although I’d seen his records in Sonic Boom, I never listened in until he opened for Ulrich Schnauss last fall at the Rivoli. His performance was professional and inspiring, although his heavy breakbeats and eerie atmospheres were too easily pinned to Boards of Canada’s repertoire.

However, when discovering an EP released last year called Cities EP in my favourite Hamilton record store, I had to pick it up. Besides carrying Millimetrik’s work in the first place, indie-record stores are great places to shop because artists give them product that big-name retailers are too ignorant of. Only 150 copies of Cities EP were produced (by Pascal himself, I’m assuming), and a glance at online record shoppes confirms that few of these are still up for grabs.

It opens with deep-echoed vocal samples that comprise the beat of ‘Thule’; a track of murky ambience that provides the chill of its cover-art. ‘Vladivostok’ continues with a shuffling beat-pattern, subdued but ravenous, that floats away into the synth-laden ether. Just when you think this EP is settling into a groove of ominous downtempo, ‘Reykjavik’ charges out of the gate with a club-worthy backbeat. It’s a centerpiece that binds the more ethereal tracks together, which is needed as the back-end of Cities EP gets increasingly unstructured. Overall this is an ambient slice of Pascal’s well-honed trip-hop, more holistic in flow than his newly released Northwest Passage LP.

While Millimetrik isn’t working far outside the framework of classic triphop artists from the Ninja Tune or Mo’wax hey-day, he is certainly improving upon it; trading instrumental down-tempo’s affinity for the turntable for long ambient washes of keyboard and treated samples. At twenty-six minutes, Cities is a healthy-length EP that is worth traveling to Hamilton for if you thought your down-tempo days were behind you.

Geogaddi - Boards of Canada (RECORD STORE DAY)

Geogaddi (Special Book-sleeve Edition)

Boards of Canada
Warp Records.

SCQ Rating: 81%

Ryan – So this is Boards of Canada’s ‘Satan-Album’, eh? I read about it. There’s all kinds of devil-worship stuff in there and look! Its running length is 66 minutes and 6 seconds…. That’s too crazy [not to be intentional].

Yusif – Yeah I don’t know…. Sometimes they just make that shit up to get your feathers ruffled though.

R – Yeah, and I’m the kinda guy who falls for that stuff…

Y – More aptly, you should want to fall for that kinda stuff… makes decoding the album so much cooler.

R – Yeah but check out that last song [‘Gyroscope’]… it had weird tribal drumming. I was just putting my coat in the closet and that song made me feel like I was in the middle of some coat-hanging spiritual ritual thing. That’s probably the band doing some seance to their devil, to start the record with.

Y – Did you just hear the fridge buzz?

R – No… well, yeah.

Y – Here’s the thing: take this [‘Sunshine Recorder’]. This is classic Boards. Could’ve been right off Music Has the Right to Children.

R – Well, kinda. Thing is, you have to consider that on a basis level, these songs largely sound the same. You know, those brothers haven’t really changed much craft here.

Y – Why fix what isn’t broken?

R – Exactly… so yeah, you have to judge the material more on mood and narrative now. It’ll sound the same, but it isn’t, right?

Y – Darker. That’s the word everyone will use. But it’s probably the best.

R – Yeah, definitely. Think about how crazy dark this record has been so far… I feel like I’m alone in space right now – what is this song?

Y – ‘In Annexe’. I’d kinda like to live in the Annex… you know that Broken Social Scene’s Kevin Drew lives over there? So many mad-cool indie musicians are all camped out that way.

[‘Julie and Candy begins’]

R – OK, that does it… this song is great, what an album. Listen to this!

Y – I’m listening, I’m listening… holy smokes, Calgary just scored! With what, 50 seconds left?

[50 seconds later]

R – Is it just me or does listening to ‘The Smallest Weird Number’ make you feel like you’re lost in some haunted woods?

Y – No, but close. Calgary lost. ‘1969’ is absolute bad-ass though… deep downtempo beats with crazy throw-on samples happening. They’ve filled out their sound even more, without overwhelming us.

R – Geogaddi has a lot of this. That’s probably the fourth song that has shown a much-needed climax to keep these repeated melodies interesting. There’s a robot in there even singing “1969, in the sunshine…”! Hear that?!?

Y – I’m loving that… I felt like that was a little Daft Punk in my Boards of Canada… that’s my kinda combination.

R – What is this record, 23 songs? Even if half of these are interludes, that’s a bit much. Boards of Canada are an albums-band… you can’t just cut their record off part-way! How do they expect us [to get through it all]?

Y – I agree… but think about Music has the Right to Children. That was pretty long too. Over time, listening to these records opens up the album’s narrative, like you said, and in that case Music Has the Right to Children had a great flow to it. It just takes some familiarizing before you get it. Geogaddi will be the same way. 23 songs will feel like 12 when you know the record well enough.

R – On the other side, some of this material is exceptional. Check out this 'I See Drones'. It’s 40 seconds but I wish it was longer… when even the interludes are this great, I shouldn’t complain in the least.

Y – 'The Devil is in the Details' is definitely one of my favourite so far. So hypnotically creepy. A staccato, echoey melody with some seriously unsettling samples of film stock and a spiritually-dizzy young child. OK, I believe you now… this is definitely the Satan album! How could it not be!?! What is ‘A is to be as B is to C’, with its backward speech and warped tones?!? I’m torn between being afraid of and comforted by.

R – Don’t look at the album art, then. In the Special Edition copy, the artwork is pretty overwhelming. All the faces and people are gyroscoped into six. Six. Six faces on those creepy kids, six people on the album cover –

Y – I don’t think it would still be scary if we just turned the music off.

[Verdict Time]

R – This is some serious chill-out music. ‘Diving Station’ is deep bass hip-hopping good. Geogaddi is probably not credited with being the all-champion pinnacle of down tempo music, but it is. I truly hope one day when people look back at the ups and downs of Down Tempo as a genre, they’ll see that Geogaddi reigned over the others like it was in some giant castle. More voices, more samples, and more potential theories revolving around it.

Y – As I just realized several minutes ago, this is prime-time Boards of Canada – giving Music has a Right to Children a serious challenge for album-supremacy, and therefore, genre-supremacy. The amount of layers in these recordings are impressive, and what’s more surprising in how they balance that weight by moving between comforting hibernation and scary isolation. Geogaddi is more difficult to approach and maybe our difficulty to understand is its greatest strength: it’s so mysterious but rewarding that we continually try to come back and solve it.

R – Wow, maybe it’s because you just finished saying that, but it sounded amazing. That’s award-winning stuff.

Y – Ahh, the last song isn’t even a track. It’s just the remaining time they needed to have a running-time of 66.6. Warp Records had something to do with this!

8 Spring Records for 2008

APRIL.

Bring out Springtime Super Moose!!

It’s a beautiful day in Toronto and we're expecting 20 degrees by the end of the week. I spent nearly an hour of my workday outside, pretending to show interest in a construction site for the sake of being in the sunshine. Freshly showered and medicated, I’ve been waiting impatiently for these days to return. The uncertain grey of February and March will likely breach April as well, but these first mild and sunny days remind us that less-confined days lie ahead.

No rush for summer, though. One of the better reasons this site is named Skeleton Crew Quarterly is because I’ve always been fascinated by how certain albums can represent seasonal characteristics. Although it isn’t too common, each year I find one or two albums that perfectly sum up a time of year; sometimes a record chameleons to suit the season of its release, but just as often I find a record that should’ve been saved for a different time of year. Take Bon Iver, for example; my friend Nora recently turned me onto his rustic debut but because I’m songwriter-ed out lately, I’ll save it for autumn when it might serve me better.

As this is SCQ’s first seasonal transition, I thought I’d celebrate the encroaching mild weather with eight albums that you might prefer to spend some time with (if, that is, you feel this Spring deserves a new record). Springtime Super Moose approves each one of them! Also, I've provided an example to kick off SCQ's new column - Off the Record. Now get outside and pray for some rain.

The Boy With the Arab Strap - Belle and Sebastian (SCQ Spring 2008)

The Boy With the Arab Strap

Belle and Sebastian
Matador Records.

SCQ Rating: 83%

A friend and I had slipped out to the campus bar one night. He was struggling with a break-up that just wouldn’t break and I hardly needed a reason. With his frustrations finally vented and our mood now elated, the pint glasses were free and clear to empty in record times. We laughed over nonsense and acted like jackasses, all the while knowing that we hadn’t solved any problem at all, when I recognized that I had fully enjoyed the last four or five songs played over the pub speakers. The vocals were inaudible and the bass too heavy, but it was clear that this was the work of a band I hadn’t heard, not the scatter-shot mixed tape they usually tossed on. I asked the bartender when grabbing the next round, and years later as I listen to Stuart Murdoch’s witty melancholy, I realize my friend and I could’ve learned a lot about heartbreak by shutting up and listening to The Boy With the Arab Strap.

Although it was the title track, with its hand-clap momentum pushing a rollicking organ hook, that first caught my attention, playing ‘Seymour Stein’ and ‘Chickfactor’ at a university bar is ingenious; what could be more therapeutic for rejected twenty-somethings than Belle & Sebastian with booze? As my first B&S experience, I still consider this the best of their catalogue, but for long-time fans who followed the group from their mid-90s beginnings, it couldn’t live up to the indie-smash of 1998’s If You’re Feeling Sinister. With that sophomore effort immediately considered “a classic” and band-leader Murdoch being hailed as a lyrical visionary, Boy with the Arab Strap finds the seven-piece band inching forward despite the pressure, refining their songcraft but keeping the twee that fans cherished so dearly. Murdoch shakes some of the weight from his shoulders by sharing songwriting duties, a risky decision that pays off (especially on the summer-kissed ‘Is It Wicked Not to Care?’) and preserves the fresh air of this collection.

By the time I had my copy of Boy With the Arab Strap, the last of winter snow had drained into gutters and cool rain tapped my headphones as ‘The Rollercoaster Ride’ cooed in my ears. Like those early Spring days we celebrate by purposefully under-dressing, Belle & Sebastian have made an album equally as revitalizing; one that raises your spirits from within the guise of gloom they wear with a wink.

The Milk of Human Kindness - Caribou (SCQ Spring 2008)

The Milk of Human Kindness

Caribou
Domino Records.

SCQ Rating: 74%

Up in Flames was one of my top records of 2003 because, put simply, it never let up. The drumming catastrophes, keyboard effects and muddled vocals were all at their maximal, yet Dan Snaith always managed to walk that tightrope that separates perfection from head-aching excess. Little has changed in terms of Snaith’s muse; he is still hell-bent on distorting the psychedelic music of yore, only now he’s filtering more 70s kraut-rock than 60s hippie-chic. However where the chaos was front and centre on Up in Flames, Caribou’s latest is mobile, sometimes approachably anarchic and other times withdrawn. It’s clear that much has changed as far as Snaith’s technique goes.

The opening frenzy of ‘Yeti’ yields a human heart, as Snaith’s effect-free vocals are heard for the first time on record. Although lyrical content is infrequent, it adds a surprisingly tender component to ‘Hello Hammerheads’, a pulsating folk song with haunting undertones. In most other songs, Snaith shows off an altogether more refined production strategy, providing quieter moments that are just as exciting as his classic detonations of percussion. ‘A Final Warning’ is the best case in point, where Snaith explores a jungle of possibilities beneath a steady rhythm that never wears thin at over seven minutes in length. A similar trajectory is audible in ‘Barnowl’ (though admittedly more purposeful and with a giant pay-off), which boasts The Milk of Human Kindness’s pinnacle moment where Snaith maintains his song on the brink of suspense and then suddenly sends it careening into a noisy oblivion.

Alas, these highlights are somewhat blunted by several tracks that, in spite of showing tremendous promise, are sidelined to interlude status. Whether Snaith left them in their unfinished state because he ran out of time or couldn’t decide where to take them, I’m not sure, but I can tell you that this record would’ve been considerably better if ‘Pelican Narrows’ had been fleshed out. Although many songs here benefit from Snaith’s restraint, the strategy of holding promise instead of executing it crosses the line when the album is suffering. Still an exciting, albeit fragmented listening experience.

Mr. Beast - Mogwai (SCQ Spring 2008)

Mr. Beast

Mogwai
Matador Records.

SCQ Rating: 82%

As if Mogwai didn’t have enough pressure on them to consistently one-up their last record and you know, keep the whole post-rock genre respectable, manager Alan McGee had to open his big mouth. If the music-press weren’t already salivating over the Glasgow band’s impending follow-up to 2003’s Happy Music for Happy People, McGee offered that Mr. Beast is ‘as good as Loveless, or better’. Now people can compare themselves to My Bloody Valentine all they like, but when a manager in the business who actually worked on Loveless makes that comparison, the gloves are off. That comment was both an incredible piece of press for the band’s upcoming album and a backlash waiting to happen.

As a dark-horse competitor against Loveless, Mr. Beast loses, but as the most recent Mogwai record, it’s an impressive addition to their discography. Early interviews suggested that Mr. Beast was a return to the thrashing days of Young Team, which is sporadically evident in the metal of ‘Glasgow Mega-snake’ and ‘We’re No Here’. But this new effort has more in common with its predecessor, the textured and atmospheric Happy Music for Happy People; both consist of beautifully arranged minor masterpieces, the main distinguishing factor between them is volume. Where the former thrived off its lush serenity, Mr. Beast is less patient, more moody. Most songs are concluded within four and a half minutes (swift by Mogwai standards) and the album seems to teeter between wildly disparaging emotions. For every ‘Acid Food’, a relaxed piece of pastoral rock, there’s a ‘Travel is Dangerous’ waiting to explode nearby. The sequencing, beyond the album’s weak close, balances these moods and compliments most of the material.

Besides the noteworthy single ‘Friend of the Night’, the soft piano-led ‘Emergency Trap’ is the stand-out here, an instrumental ode that proves just how far Mogwai’s songwriting has come since Young Team’s quiet/loud dynamics. Why the band attempted to go back to their roots when they’ve evolved so much is a mystery to me, but Mr. Beast shows great potential that is worth striving for despite the occasional misstep.

Memory Man - Aqualung (SCQ Spring 2008)

Memory Man

Aqualung
BMG Records.

SCQ Rating: 82%

A year ago, Matt Hales (AKA Aqualung) meant nothing to me. He was like a Jack Johnson without the schtick, Justin Timberlake without the sex; another starry-eyed, effeminate songwriter who couldn’t earn a male fanbase. I saw him on televisions in Target, squinting his sensitivity through the camera, oozing ‘tortured artist’. His first album had sold platinum; my girlfriend loved him. I didn’t.

And that’s why I bought the album – for her. It sat in my luggage for a week before I returned from Halifax and nearly forgot to give it to her. And as if his second record re-wrote itself inside my suitcase, I found myself pausing mid-sentence while we were catching up from my two weeks out East to say “Wow, did you hear that?” Suddenly Matt Hales is a one-man rock band, measuring his sincerity with melody and a pulse you can believe in. His newly-acquired alt-rock skills are glossed appropriately by his electronic production, giving a modern sheen to the crunch of ‘Cinderella’ and ‘Outside’. Its accessibility is comparable to Coldplay’s by way of melody and lyrical content, but Memory Man keeps things original enough to remain free of adult contemporary radio. In fact, when Matt Hales rings off a chorus that would normally be too poppy for your liking, it’s a brief reminder that you’re listening to an artist who, two years ago, had nothing more than poppy choruses to offer.

Lush and darkly seductive, Memory Man is a beautiful, fully realized journey… and ready for this? Nobody gave it the time of day.

Write Your Own History - Field Music (SCQ Spring 2008)

Write Your Own History

Field Music
Memphis Industries.

SCQ Rating: 76%

B-side compilations rarely present the best material for first-listen experiences. Not only because you’re usually hearing songs that were released at the insistence of opportunistic labels who see a band on the rise (instead of the band itself, who are usually apprehensive about showing off work they purposefully withheld), but also because b-sides are usually failed experiments. When I first heard Write Your Own History – at a record store listening station, ten minutes after getting off a greyhound bus to visit friends – I had no idea that I was hearing b-sides, nor who Field Music were. A minute-long peek at each of these nine songs hinted at a record of great promise and I hastily bought it, unaware that its insane import price would actually be as high a number as the minutes this album consists of (28 min., so you know). That I’m still happy to own this record should inform how good it is.

Although ‘Trying to Sit Out’ and ‘Breakfast Song’ may be brief, they were written and arranged with the weight of any three-minute pop song. Of Field Music’s several talents, their ability to throw a wide variety of ideas into a whirlwind two-minute song is certainly their unique gift. Take single ‘You’re Not Supposed To’, a blender-mix of vocal harmonies and piano/guitar pop that never feels too busy. Even the quiet strums of ‘I’m Tired’ are bolstered by a backing string section and subtle laptop beats, guaranteeing that Write Your Own History never gives in to its undernourished running-time.

The quality of this recording only admits its compilation status in the sequencing, which is ordered reverse-chronologically (2005 back to 2000) to offer a history (like its essay-plagued artwork) of the band’s sonic evolution. The stitches necessary to seam these songs casually together are audible – few tracks here naturally flow into one another – but what’s impressive is how neither side of this history outshines the other; their work from the turn of the century is as assured and inviting as the single from their self-titled album in 2005. Write Your Own History isn’t mind-blowing work, but as a collection of their failed experiments, it’s a telling indication of how brilliant their A-game material must be. Just try to find it at a better price...

Talkie Walkie - Air (SCQ Spring 2008)

Talkie Walkie

Air
Astralwerks Records.

SCQ Rating: 87%

If the star-gazing Moon Safari and romantically androgenous 10000hz To Legend left listeners confused over who Air were, dew-eyed dreamers or electronic misfits, their third proper full-length proves they’re the former. Mixed and co-produced by the one and only Nigel Godrich, Talkie Walkie is a bedroom record of the highest order; a collection of love letters never sent because writers (Jean-Benoit Dunckel and Nicolas Godin) can’t be bothered to toss their bedsheets for stamps.

The album opens with the dirge-slow ‘Venus’, a deliberate piano repetition with distant hand-claps that rises into a synth-driven haze. It’s a serious statement of forlorn love that turns on its head for ‘Cherry Blossom Girl’ where its acoustic-led sweetness shows a more positive outlook – even if that sought-after love is no closer to reality. How these songs interact on a musical and thematic level is indicative of all ten tracks here, as these compositions react to each other like a smoothly executed chemistry experiment; where the theme of longing fluctuates on mood, this sequence retorts by leaning on organic or electronic treatment. The glimmering digital tricks pulled on ‘Run’, a sensational chime-stitched production of seamless beauty, fade into the unplugged allure of ‘Universal Traveler’, etc. Due to the wide range of instrumentation – that, and this being some of Air’s finest songwriting ever - Talkie Walkie is continually fresh and enjoyable listening, with just enough mood to avert becoming too sweet.

Although vocals (all belonging to the two Frenchmen, for the first time) are incorporated into the majority of this material, Dunckel and Godin implement some significant instrumentals to strengthen the sequencing. Both halves of Talkie Walkie are clearly marked by cinematic instrumentals (‘Mike Mills’ and the Lost in Translation approved ‘Alone in Kyoto’, respectively) that reinforce and showcase the band’s aptitude for complex arrangements. After the monotonous lumbering of ‘Another Day’ (the only dreary song here), Air present their most contagious song yet in ‘Alpha Beta Gaga’, a whistle-led hook that is assisted by strings, banjo, and warped synth. After nearly a full record of self-imposed isolation, ‘Alpha Beta Gaga’ is the happy-go-lucky soundtrack of a love attained; an emotional release that finds its serious partner in the pillow-soft, banjo-plucked ‘Biological’. Although Air’s lyrics certainly appeal to lonely pedestrians searching for companionship, Talkie Walkie is a record best-suited for lovers to share.

After the rollercoaster of their first two albums, which saw the band praised as electronic leaders then later scorned for their adventurousness, I find it interesting that Limited Editions of this album come attached with a DVD of live performance material borrowing heavily from their earlier days of critical success. Why Astralwerks would feel the need to remind us of the Moon Safari-era is no mystery – a lot was riding on Air for this album – but after hearing Talkie Walkie, the DVD feels like a cautious step backwards; the only lapse in confidence this record possesses.

Know By Heart - American Analog Set (SCQ Spring 2008)

Know By Heart

American Analog Set
Tigerstyle Records.

SCQ Rating: 81%

Like the groundhog who finds no shadow, Know By Heart is the sound of Amanset coming out of their shell. They’ve slept off the muted organ drones of The Golden Band and woken up to the familiar but refreshed indie combo (keyboard/xylophone/bass/guitar/drums) that makes ‘Punk as Fuck’ one of the band’s all-time best songs. It’s a good stretch out of hibernating slumber, a warm step into the melting Spring, and a lead-in to the band’s most charming effort yet.

Not to say they’ve changed too much… Know by Heart still finds Andrew Kenny and band turning out the recognizable songcraft; difference is, the album incorporates the bolder indie-rock of their early days to the eloquence of their more introspective work, making this their most accomplished. ‘Million Young’ is as audacious as anything they’ve written, while ‘We’re Computerizing and We Just Don’t Need You Anymore’ is the most soothing; a layered slice of melancholy that closes the record in dreamy fashion. As always, a shortlist of well-suited instrumentals are scattered but complimented by a dose of the band’s infrequent love-songwriting on the title track or the sweet ‘Aaron & Maria’.

Part of what makes this album so celebration-worthy is that it’s the first AmAnSet record you can rationally share with friends or lovers. Unlike the solitary requirements of their last record, these twelve songs are looking for company and surely Know By Heart will earn the Texas quintet a larger fan-base.

Day I Forgot - Pete Yorn (SCQ Spring 2008)

Day I Forgot

Pete Yorn
Columbia Records.

SCQ Rating: 86%

In April of 2003, I should’ve been studying. That would’ve made a lot of sense, given that my schedule included several essay exams scattered over the coming two weeks. Instead, I stood in a London-area HMV with a gift certificate in hand, completely at odds over what to buy. Sure, I was carrying a copy of the newly released Pete Yorn album around with me, but truthfully, I was looking for something different. After a few distractions (including my first impressionable listen to Cat Power), I gave up and bought Day I Forgot. Despite his first album being a big deal for me a year earlier, I viewed this purchase as a silver medal to my own indecision.

From the opening field-recording demo that leaves us hanging before the guitars of ‘Come Back Home’ crash in, I instinctively dropped all presumptions about what this record should be. His sound hadn’t changed so much as focused; the DIY ethic was still at work, but where Music for the Morning After stretched its wings over several styles, Day I Forgot is singular in its forthright desire to rock. The drums are decidedly heavier, giving would-be ballad ‘Crystal Village’ a defiant edge. Even the guitars are beefier, cutting deep into ‘Long Way Down’ or blowing a riff out of the water as ‘Carlos’ does. Much of the reason critics merely shrugged at Day I Forgot can be traced to this straight-forward guitar rock, which disappointed those who treated Yorn like the next big thing, but few can argue that Yorn pulls it off convincingly.

We had two weeks left on the lease of our decrepit student flophouse, and between finals and unresolved summer plans, my housemates and I could feel the changing of the guard. Like how the spring rain melts weeks-worth of filthy snow down the gutters, this house would soon be filled with a new group of wide-eyed students to deflower. In many ways, we were preparing to say goodbye for another few months, and given how quickly things change amid a group of young men and women, I was aware things couldn’t stay the same for long. As several songs from Day I Forgot began to cling to my brain, London underwent an unseasonably warm current that bathed our last days in a summer’s humidity. The blankets of our make-shift projector room were torn down, revealing a great living room we’d wasted, and our windows were left open to breathe at night. Our study days became routinely interrupted by water-gun battles in the stairwell or backyard procrastinating. A song as seemingly ridiculous as ‘Burrito’ fit right in, its power chords drowning Yorn’s reminiscing from the window-perched speaker. The kitchen mentioned in ‘All At Once’ will always be our kitchen in that house.

A night after we pulled the couches out onto the front lawn, bought bottles of wine, and drank into the early hours, I woke up to write my anthropology exam. It was the end of April and my last exam, so I left early to ensure I could pace my walk and enjoy the green grass of campus. And as had been the case for the past two weeks, I woke up with one of Yorn’s new songs in my head; in this case, ‘Man in Uniform’, which I wordlessly sang to myself as I considered how dead I was about to be. The exam was a write-off – I could’ve been in a different class the whole time – and Yorn’s melody followed me home for one last day in London.

With its clean instrumentation and romantically-restless songs (who could ignore ‘Turn of the Century’?), Day I Forgot is a spring-time album that preludes those approaching summer nights. In a tight competition, it is also my favourite Pete Yorn album.

Asa Breed (Black Edition) - Matthew Dear

Asa Breed (Black Edition)

Matthew Dear
Ghostly International Records.


SCQ Rating: 77%

Since I’m the kind of record-buyer who enjoys buying new music on the day of its release, I don’t often get the thrill of owning specialty reissues armed with bonus tracks and cooler artwork. So when bands I dig put out ‘Tour Edition’ copies of their CD or decide to re-release their older material with double-disc treatment, I curse my eagerness. When techno-whiz Matthew Dear's latest was first released in the summer of 07, I downloaded several songs and put it on my extensive list of discs to buy… but never got around to it. So when my girlfriend came back from New Hampshire with a wrapped up copy of the newly released, U.S.A.-only, Asa Breed Black Edition for me, I was pretty damn excited. Yes, this is one of the few cases where my apathy paid off.

One of the reasons I kept the purchase of this CD on the backburner for so long is that my initial listens left me unsatisfied. Because it was praised as an electro-pop record and compared by many critics as similar to the work of LCD Soundsystem, I’d take a burned copy of my makeshift Asa Breed album to work and let it play in the background. That was my first mistake – treating it like an extroverted album – which led into the assumption (and my second error-in-judgement) that this might not be a record worth owning. Both of these seemingly harmless actions were immediately understood once I put the Black Edition through my headphones last week.

Despite the dance pedigree that Dear has earned, Asa Breed’s deep bass and beat patterns distracted me from what my headphone experience pointed out: there is a hell of a lot happening on this record, most of which I would’ve never caught over that shoddy stereo at work. ‘Deserter’ and ‘Don and Sherri’ are clear standouts from any speakers, but upon close inspection, Dear has put his all into songs like the rackety dance-chant ‘Fleece on Brain’ or the bluesy electronics of ‘Good to be Alive’; dance tracks that are given the pop hooks to transcend music boundaries. While that alone might warrant the LCD comparison, Dear has used the same recipe to create a drastically different result; where James Murphy clung to his hipster record collection for inspiration, Dear’s quiet eccentricities alone make this an impressive and bizarrely original pop record.

Much of Dear’s personality can be felt in his vocals; an aspect of Asa Breed that many saw as a hindrance. And while I initially agreed that his vocals weren’t spectacular, I never considered that maybe Dear wasn’t aiming for pleasant sing-alongs. As proven by ‘Death to Feelers’ or the lush ‘Deserter’, Matthew Dear is a completely serviceable singer… he just isn’t content to rest on that. Pick just about any song on Asa Breed and you’ll find several layers of vocals: a high-strung soulful voice and a small chorus of speak-singers, both anchored by Dear’s natural baritone. Together, these multi-tracked voices create a purposefully strange combination – an organically constructed electronic tone, if you will – that gives an otherworldly feel to the killer chorus of ‘Don and Sherri’ or the candle-lit slowburner ‘Will Gravity Win Tonight?’. Careful listening will also unveil layers of vocals that are separate from the lyrics; nearly wordless (but decodable) chants that like a keyboard refrain assist in completing Dear’s beat patterns.

Of course, what makes the Black Edition so special is the inclusion of several bonus tracks, previously released on seven-inch singles but compiled here for the first time. Four Tet re-imagines ‘Deserter’ with some pre-school piano arpeggios and a sparkling loop of electronics that give the single a climax it never had, while Hot Chip reinvents ‘Don and Sherri’ from top to bottom, replacing Dear’s vocals with Alexis Taylor’s and using a ton of synths to emphasize Dear’s romantic deliberation. Bonus tracks sewn onto the end of an album can often damage the core material but here it works, largely because Asa Breed undergoes a dramatic shift in its third act, introducing guitar-rock and some Johnny Cash-flavoured lyricism. This tail-end is the only section of the album that is truly hit and miss, but the newly added remixes and bonus song help to reign the album back to form after such a sudden change of focus.

Since Matthew Dear is off on tour with both Four Tet and Hot Chip right now, this Black Edition makes a lot of sense in the land of cash-in reissues. On the other hand, like a movie that returns to theatres a second time in a last-chance bid for Oscar consideration, Asa Breed is back for those, like myself, who may have missed its quirks the first time out. Certainly worth a second listen.

Walls - Apparat

Walls

Apparat
Bpitch Records/Shitkatapult Records.

SCQ Rating: 84%

The first time I heard Apparat was on the sensational project with Ellen Allien, Orchestra of Bubbles, where his skill of beat-programming and sense of melody caught my ear. The album steered a whole new following for both artists, giving Allien’s Bpitch Records its most successful release and Apparat more exposure than ever before. Little did I know that the Orchestra of Bubbles collaboration would also give birth to another stunning album – Apparat’s Walls.

Ensuring that he wouldn’t go into the studio empty-handed, Apparat (moniker for Sascha Ring) prepared countless recordings of song ideas for Allien to consider. After their record was released and their tour wrapped up, Apparat rediscovered literally hundreds of his song ideas that were never put to use and, thusly, began to tool with them. In telling this story, Apparat fully confesses that Walls should be listened to as a “last two years of Apparat” compilation, and not as a realized record. In my opinion, he should’ve kept that comment to himself; Walls is so thoroughly enjoyable that any words contrary to the notion that Apparat carved this song-cycle out of a concept feel belittling to its strengths. If he had claimed to toil through sweat and frustration over a narrative for Walls, I would’ve happily bought it.

Splitting his efforts between vocalized and instrumental tracks, Apparat has raised the bar considerably in melding his aptitude for German electronica with undeniable pop hooks. Fans of the Junior Boys would no doubt fancy ‘Birds’, a lurching beat sung over in light, soulful sighs by Apparat himself. Between he and contributor Raz Ohara (whose voices are similar enough to confuse), the vocal songs hold a slightly stronger hand than the instrumental numbers (a few of which are slightly too reserved). ‘Arcadia’ is a crossover song in waiting, featuring heavy beats and Apparat’s high vocals melding with tense synths, while Ohara mouths a stream-of-conscious crisis in the lovely, sedated ‘Over and Over’. Such a comedown song is necessary after several adrenaline rushes; the dramatic duo of ‘Fractales Pt 1’ and ‘Pt 2’, but most of all, in ‘Headup’, a crushingly emotive electro/shoegaze hybrid that Anthony Gonzales of M83 must be wishing he wrote.

Some critics argue that Walls is the sound of Apparat playing it safe and I’m not about to refute it. Moreover, I’m not going to pretend that “playing it safe” is a crime when the results sound as dazzling as Walls does. Whether Apparat has a revolutionary record in him is yet to be determined; in the meantime, I’m satisfied with the best German electronica record I’ve heard since A Strangely Isolated Place.

Habitual Blogging

Well, it has been nearly two months since my last administrative post and much has changed. When I last commented on the state of SCQ, the blog was hardly out of incubation and I hadn’t a clue how to hold it. Since I’ve found a routine in the meantime and people are actually stopping by to read, I thought now might be the time for a long overdue update.

Firstly, I wanted to point out the main addition to SCQ: the SCQ Review, a blog I designed in February to counter the limitations of searching a single blog for one particular review. As a new branch of the Homepage, SCQ Review will delve into albums of the past as I continue to build an archive. The site affords a one-click list of Artists/Bands that will provide any or all reviews based on their discography (a convenience I hadn’t the room for on this Homepage). Usually updated on Thursdays, the Review Archive is the easiest way to make the SCQ experience easier to navigate. Elsewhere, the SCQ Homepage you’re currently reading will remain focused on new records worth reviewing, features, the Thank God It’s Tuesday calendar and concert reviews. New content is regularly posted in time for Mondays.

Secondly, SCQ is asking for some assistance through an open letter posted here. In a nutshell, I’m looking for submissions that discuss how the author in question (maybe you!?!) found one of their favourite albums and the circumstances that make it so important to you. They’ll likely be posted once a month in a new series I’m calling Off the Record (god, I’m brilliant).

On a final note, the recently fixed-up About SCQ link at the right margin of the site takes a moment to distinguish how these records are reviewed and the criteria considered. Click here if you’re completely at odds with every review I write.

That’s that. Feel free to comment all you like; they make me feel like I’m doing this for someone other than myself.

Love SCQ

…reachable at theskeletoncrewquarterly@gmail.com