Patients - Patients

Patients

Patients
Self-Released.

SCQ Rating: 78%

Music in the internet age carries the same criticisms implicit to the wild west, namely because everyone involved – musicians, distributors, labels, sellers, buyers and stealers – each suffer or prosper from a system in chaos. Word of mouth, once a term to reflect a slow, grassroots-style of hype, now moves like a cloud of locusts, devouring trends and bands in record time. In the same way Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa lost its aura at the helm of a thousand fridge magnets, cheap print-outs and goofy commercial parodies, albums have similarly lost their luster, reduced to an invisible file that is stolen, copied and traded among friends. Despite these criticisms that understandably argue the commodification of music, the internet has also presented artists with opportunities to create events. Few of us (locusts and listeners alike) could forget Radiohead’s grand In Rainbows strategy yet each year holds a few of these unique surprises (recall NIN’s The Slip give-away or Fog’s recent purging of five new albums online). For 2009, I can’t imagine a more inventive or rewarding event than the Patients Project curated by Electric President/Radical Face guru Ben Cooper; a trade-off between musician and fan that resulted in fans receiving an ultra-limited compilation of unheard tunes and Cooper getting to know his fanbase on a more intimate level. For those interested in details and final results (as the project is now closed), check out his website.

Although I missed out on the Patients Project’s first wave (which included one of 100 uber-limited discs packaged in homemade fashion by Cooper himself), I participated in the second wave and was awarded Patients’ eleven tracks in MP3 format. My natural instinct concerning anything free is to recall that modern fable “you get what you pay for”, yet from the opening strums of ‘Tall Tale No. 5’, any premature thoughts of throwaway tracks and subpar b-sides simply dissipated from my mind. The song acts as a bildungsroman for Cooper and his various shadows, narrating the birth and emotional development of a storyteller who, I suspect, details events both fictional and autobiographical. The distinction is inconsequential given the quality of songwriting throughout but it’s nearly impossible to ignore Cooper’s numerous guises present, moving effortlessly from the complex dance rhythms of ‘Mind Ur Manners’ or the front-porch folk of ‘Sad Business’ to the stuttering found-sound bridge of ‘Mathematics’. The freedom of such a project also allows experiments like ‘Body Song’ (composed with but one instrument – the human body) and a gentle cover of a Robin Hood tune (yah, Disney’s - no Kevin Costner meets Bryan Adams reminiscing here…). That such variety never becomes overwhelming nor steals the thunder of the songs themselves proves how seamlessly Cooper wears these guises, making it a more fluid album than it has any right to be.

Part of Patients’ allure is its constant shift between styles and identity, which should come as no surprise to those familiar with Cooper’s double-shift between Electric President and Radical Face. The other half of discovering Patients is finding those tracks that are simply too good to not belong on an official release, and thusly trying to figure out where they should settle. ‘The Coldest Hand’ has the atmosphere necessary to be a b-side of Sleep Well, while ‘The Voice of Our Age’ could belong on a more extroverted, big-screen Radical Face project. Then there’s ‘If You Come Back to Haunt Me’, an explosive finale that despite hauling many Cooper trademarks cannot fit within any of his day-jobs. Is it a clue of things to come? One can only hope…

Simply put, there is no black or white regarding music in the internet era; the state of record sales, promotional efforts and downloading are all lost in gray areas of debate. And while I’m against the downloading of music whereby the artist responsible receives no recognition or compensation, I encourage anyone interested to seek out these songs online. This Patients project seems far more of a closet-cleansing than a money-grab (after all, he did give it out for free), so I urge anyone interested to ask around. For fans of Electric President or Radical Face, this is a must-have… and for Cooper-newbies, this is as good a place to start as any.

Indication - Squares On Both Sides

Indication

Squares On Both Sides
Own Records.

SCQ Rating: 66%

There’s an intimacy to Squares On Both Sides (aka Daniel Buerkner)’s approach that contests and nearly overrides his compositions. Much to his credit, his voice sounds as if he were singing right next to you, and single piano notes recorded sound as resonant as if you were toying with them alone in your parent’s livingroom. Similarly, Indication is an album just as curious; one that spends much of its running-time pinpointing lovely chord progressions then using repetition to bore them into our heads. Whether a few songs idly miss their mark is hardly important, not only because those tracks manage to act as mini lead-ins to another song’s payoff but because Buerkner always comes out unscathed, unaffected. As if those songs in question were designed to sidestep perfection, as if Buerkner was aiming for a humble collapse.

Luckily for Indication, most of these eleven stripped-down, acoustic songs deliver when aired during a dedicated silence. Yes, despite its folk-based songwriting, this is environmental listening on par with most ambient records. The pauses between verse in ‘Pripyat’ – as integral to its mood as any bare-boned presence of guitar and piano – appear throughout, highlighting ‘Cantaloupes’ vocal refrain and some sparse percussion on ‘The Lines We Seize’. That said, Indication’s best moments are those that buffer out the cracks of his fractured pop, revealing understated gems like ‘Author’ and ‘Kitsune’; both highlights being the result of Buerkner combining his fine ear for melody with potent songwriting. While few tracks ascend to such touching heights, this fourth release is a contained reverie of discreet details, soft and slightly unstable. Between his sterile production and splintered English, Squares On Both Sides could be an excellent opening act for the Notwist’s next tour… ; the material is quietly engaging yet, due to its continuously low-key mood, best heard in small doses.

Spring Records 2009

Rainy forecast for the next few days? Check.
Filthy glaciers melting through every curbside drain? Check.
Springtime Super Moose?!?!? Double check!

Yes, Spring is back… and to celebrate I’ve prepared a few dewy selections that should either reconnect you with a side of nature long buried, or give you a soundtrack to dance your winter clothes off to. Instead of resorting to Spring CDs of previous years as I did in 2008, I’ve opted to make this post a current affair. Even so, this mild Spring air is so intoxicating I just might post a few old faves in the SCQ Review over the coming weeks.

By the way, I’d like to thank some readers for the words of encouragement I received during that recent One Month Without New Music challenge. I saw it through to the end, although I took advantage of a clause that allowed me to sell some old 'ish for something new. End result: I didn’t spend a hard-earned cent on music (shows, records, whatever) for thirty days. Research concerning how much money I saved and possible lessons learned? Undetermined, uncalculated. Thank you to those who kept count with me (or for me, I suspect) and ensured I stay on the straight and narrow (that’s you, CGreen!).

Without further delay, here are two Spring CDs worth testing out...

Noble Beast - Andrew Bird (Spring 2009)

Noble Beast

Andrew Bird
Fat Possum Records.

SCQ Rating: 67%

Could anyone have caught a first glimpse of Noble Beast’s bountiful landscape shot and pegged exactly what it would sound like? Sure… I mean, the grassland picture sprawls in all directions – as far back as the eye can see, over the CD’s spine and coursing across the backside’s tracklisting – not unlike the compositions themselves, which flow from one pastoral ditty to the next. Unlike Armchair Apocrypha’s cover-shot of a perched bird looking away, surrounded by black and paralleled with the back of Bird’s head, we’re given no direct focus this time around. That’s no fluke and here’s my point: Noble Beast’s direction was predictable on a superficial level yet indiscernible upon deeper listening. Two months ago I could’ve panned this album as an aimless follow-up to 2007’s meticulous rock record, but this isn’t aimless… largely because it isn’t a rock record at all. Grand questions about genres and ambitions come into play on Noble Beast; a record worth debating, if not emotionally investing yourself to.

The Illinois native’s opening couplet, ‘Oh No’ and ‘Masterswarm’, establish the album’s duality; short, whistle-addled pop tunes next to morphing, organic growers. The frequent appearance of both song-types isn’t indicative of songwriter-indecision so much as it suggests an attempt to keep listeners interested. Commendable then, as when you realize these fourteen tracks largely work amid unassuming, acoustic instrumentation, the tempo is pretty key. Instead of the pronounced electric guitar that opened ‘Fiery Crash’ or the pop chorus of ‘Plasticities’, Noble Beast slides between folk-flavoured nuances as laidback as ‘Natural Disaster’ or Shins-styled ‘Nomenclature’. As such, the sprawling divide created by freeform works like ‘Souverian’ and ‘Anonanimal’ – both of which reference neo-classical trademarks convincingly - are essential in questioning this album’s authenticity in the indie-rock category. Speaking of those last two tracks, I must confess that Bird’s thesaurus love-in is interfering with his craft, castrating expert instrumentals with clumsy verbosity. Just listening to him try to incorporate the word ‘Tenuousness’ repeatedly into a chorus makes me happy I don’t have to catch up with him over coffee.

Piece by piece, Noble Beast is revealing itself to be a daunting task to understand, decode, and thoroughly enjoy. While its adventurism does occasionally stray into meandering, I remain curious of its potential. Like Radiohead’s Amnesiac, Noble Beast is a misunderstood cousin to its respective discography; a release that garners polite approval and shrugging shoulders while skirting commercial acceptance at the artist’s pinnacle of hype. I might forget about it within the month or react like I did with that darkhorse Radiohead record and grow more accepting of its oddity. After all, let’s be honest: a discography is no fun without at least one full-length question mark.

Junior - Royksopp (Spring 2009)

Junior

Royksopp
Astralwerks Records.

SCQ Rating: 77%

Downtempo is pretty dead. Not floating down the river quite yet but certainly beached. And the record responsible for last breathing life into that stagnant subgenre came courtesy of the band who indeed sealed its dusty coffin… that’s right, Royksopp. Their debut Music AM kept commercial electronica proud in the face of its sad, late 90s defeat, melding thick breakbeats with a rainbow’s capacity of influences: trance, triphop sampling, space-rock, house and late-night jazz. As the sole descendents of progressive downtempo, Royksopp returned three years later with The Understanding, a revved up pop-powerhouse that better suited the dancefloor than your average living room.

So it’s strange that Junior, despite being a close successor to the dance-pop sophomore effort, kicks things off with a track so loaded with spacey synths and tweaked bleeps you’d swear it was 2002 all over again. Such is the addictive power of first single ‘Happy Up Here’ (a more popcentric, economic take of ‘Eple’) or ‘You Don’t Have a Clue’ (think of a more melodic ‘Poor Leno’); two tracks that’ll fool you into believing Junior is reclaiming its laid-back beats. Don’t let those telltale moments sway you, as Royksopp’s third is first and foremost a pop record; one so engrossing, in fact, you’re likely to lose yourself and at times forget just how technically astounding their compositions are. One needn’t look further than ‘The Girl and the Robot’, undoubtedly among this year’s top tracks, that matches Robyn’s affecting vocal performance to a boundless trance rhythm. While that single-to-be envisions the future of dance, ‘This Must Be It’ has a retro air about it, utilizing disco cadences beneath Karin Dreijer’s familiar delivery. As with The Understanding, this third release finds comfort in collaboration and while every vocalist on rent is female (encompassing seven of eleven tracks), I find Junior’s femininity a tad polarizing… not because such vocal talents get tiring (save Dreijer’s irritating ‘Tricky, Tricky’) but because Royksopp’s knack for instrumentals remains unrivaled in this genre. The heavy thud and fluttering arpeggios of ‘Silver Cruiser’ make for a well-earned intermission, as does the orchestrated glory of ‘Royksopp Forever’ (a sentiment many listeners are currently nodding along to).

Had the Chemical Brothers the vision to adapt themselves into the dance scene of 2009, they would’ve crafted Junior. This Norwegian duo fit oversized pop narratives into beat patterns with the same scope and talent of the Chem Bros, but Royksopp’s brand of big-beat carries a fourth dimension… one that’s delicate yet bold, aggressive but androgynous. They truly carry the torch with Junior, picking la crème of all collaborators and crafting songs for both ends of the Saturday night crowd; those in the club, and those in their headphones.

Years (By One Thousand Fingertips) - Attack in Black

Years (By One Thousand Fingertips)

Attack in Black
Dinealone Records.

SCQ Rating: 85%

About thirteen months ago my prejudices against Attack in Black suffered a major setback at the hands of The Curve of the Earth; a vinyl-only excursion into four-track folk songs recorded over two days in their hometown of Welland Ontario. My review of said album coarsely explored the admiration and hesitation I was struggling to decide between, and while that recording has indeed survived the test of time, I treated Attack in Black like any hung jury would: with suspicion. I mean, if that wonderful vinyl was simply some playful aside before indulging further in radio-rock’s bland flavour-of-the-month contest, SCQ wasn’t about to jump the gun and celebrate The Curve of the Earth as the dawning of a fresh, new Canadian talent. With the release of Years (By One Thousand Fingertips), I can do just that.

For those of you curious about Attack in Black’s current frame of mind, be it Marriage’s ferocious punk-rock or more aforementioned lo-fi folk, Years carries the latter’s approach but largely splits the difference. ‘Leaving Your Death in a Flowerbed’ awakens from the band’s slow slumber (a pretty stillness since 2007’s aggressive debut) and displays their new approach brilliantly; the guitars are revved with ample distortion, their vocals calm but emotive nonetheless. Despite lacking high-tech studio wizardry or audio-pyrotechnics, Attack in Black have presence… and their disinterest in polishing the package makes the results all the more engaging. Renewed energy is peppered throughout the record, as on the electric crunch of ‘Birmingham’ or the irresistible rock-hooks of ‘I’m a Rock’. While these upbeat compositions lack the predictable punk-isms of the 00’s – namely attitude and a fair share of screaming – I credit Years with a true punk flair. Rarely has a band purposefully derailed their high-profile potential to record their songs their way (issuing a vinyl-only album mere months after their debut, choosing to create a home-based studio and man production efforts themselves). Instead of becoming the next Can-rock bubble band, Attack in Black sound closer to the next cult classic; adventurous, messy, non-committal, chameleon-ish and yet wholly Canadian.

When they aren’t performing electric-tinged rock tunes, Years revels in the band’s well-honed acoustic side. As The Curve of the Earth presented several shades of grey, imbedding their tunes with tones of optimism, dread or numbness, Years’ slower material flourishes over broad emotional territories. ‘I Could Turn’ starts with a jangling guitar-line for late-night wandering and a collapsing drum-pattern, before building into a loser-anthem of fleeting confidence while ‘Messenger Bird’ is a gorgeous piano ode to perseverance that recalls After the Goldrush era Neil Young. ‘The Surface I Would Travel’ closes the disc with subdued vocal harmonies, tastefully intimate bass and some echo/feedback-induced experimentation, leaving the listener in a romantic haze.

At a hefty sixteen tracks, Years is bound and fortified by its variety and while a few tracks could’ve arguably hit the editing room floor, I prefer its current manifestation. Coupled with The Curve of the Earth, Attack in Black are creating albums singular through their own trademarks; between-song experimenting, rustic instrumentation, and songwriting that suits its brave production. Years (By One Thousand Fingertips) is emotionally complicated, creatively loaded and beautifully packaged… Attack in Black’s first minor classic.

S/T - The Pains of Being Pure at Heart

The Pains of Being Pure at Heart

The Pains of Being Pure at Heart
Slumberland Records.

SCQ Rating: 74%

Wearing artistic influences on one’s sleeve is only a crime when the results lack a twist of personal conviction. Anyone with enough talent to get backed by a label has aptitude to spare when it comes to simple mimicry, and every generation has branded its share of bands – both good and bad – as purveyors of stolen inspiration. From the Beatles to Oasis, Gram Parsons to Ryan Adams, Nirvana to Bush, or Radiohead to Muse, contemporary bands are critiqued more often for their reference letters than their songwriting chops. As the end of this decade finds indie-rock delving ever deeper into the shadows of 80s cult heroes, The Pains of Being Pure at Heart are likely 2009’s poster-children; delivered via the ultra-retro Slumberland Records while citing Jesus and Mary Chain and The Smiths on their sleeves, how much room is left for personal conviction?

With a vocalist who sounds like Morrissey after a bottle of Robitussin (or Stuart Murdoch after knocking out his school-yard rival, take your pick) and guitar squalls blurred into non-descript fuzz-chords, The Pains of Being Pure at Heart should be as forgettable as, well, every imitating Slowdive band since the early 90s. Yet as illustrated in the hook-laden ‘Young Adult Friction’ or ‘Contender’s heavy balance of melody and distortion, this Brooklyn four-piece have laid down some memorable pop songs for bloated bloggers everywhere. There’s ‘The Tenure Itch’ spinning late-night tales with a nod-approving pulse, ‘Everything With You’ romancing one-month anniversaries everywhere and ‘Come Saturday’, which announces itself like maxed speakers at the peak of a party. At a scant thirty-five minutes, The Pains of Being Pure at Heart serve up a surprising dose of pretty, predictable conviction.

In fact, this debut is almost too easy to like, crossing a much-flirted-with twee-boundary that results in some syrupy nonsense. Remove the goofy F-bomb and exclamation mark from ‘This Love is Fucking Right!’ and you’re still faced with the lamest song on record; a smear of open-strummed redundancy, notable only for its suggestively incestuous narrative. In a better league altogether is ‘A Teenager in Love’, which delivers some much-needed melodic variety even if the chorus sports broad clunkers like “a teenager in love with Christ and heroine”. Is that irony? Parody? Wait... nostalgia? That changes everything! Genius!
……………
SCQ’s Fortune Cookie of the Year: a goldmine awaits those who borrow wisely from the old. Anything that can be shaken from its age and tweaked into underground cool can become a trend all over again. Lather, rinse, repeat. Recalling Zach Braff’s Garden State soundtrack - a tourist’s mix of old, safe niche-singles (The Shins, Nick Drake, Coldplay and, unsurprisingly, Thievery Corporation) strung up with a few sentimental, newer acoustic tracks - and its dumbfounding feat of selling over 500 000 copies in the United States, I’m blown away at how easily the recent history of music can be torn up and re-sewn into a cooler yet identical version of itself. The Pains of Being Pure at Heart are thriving through a similar approach of tailoring the Smiths’ mopey vocals and MBV production to mid-90s chord progressions. The song that best encapsulates this young band’s sound is ‘Stay Alive’ and like most indie critics and blogging hipsters, I’m enjoying its cloudy wash of guitars, its innocuous harmonies, the band’s photo like indie mannequins. That said, none of this superficial hipness makes The Pains of Being Pure at Heart any less of a Gin Blossoms record.

One Month Challenge Update / So Long, Ruins!

Three weeks have passed since that foolish wager began where I challenged myself not to purchase any music-related products over the span of one month, and I’m proud to announce I’ve yet to crack. Now I won’t say twenty-three days have passed without incident. I’ve entered a few record stores and nearly rationalized myself out of contractual obligation… yet fought back the urge to buy.

Alright, enough back-patting; I’m not there yet. Instead, this post is to celebrate the lives of a few albums that, due to mediocrity and this writer’s disinterest, are being forfeited for my cause. With but a week left of restrictions, I’m freeing up some CD-tower real estate and exercising my option to sell ten or twelve albums in order to purchase one. The following discs are now circulating at large in Sonic Boom's used bins. Beware...

Songs For the Broken Hearted - Windy & Carl (So Long, Ruins!)

Songs For the Broken Hearted

Windy & Carl
Kranky Records.

SCQ Rating: 47%

Windy & Carl are perhaps Brian Eno’s closest successors when it comes to the man’s definition – not exposition – of ambient music. Like his famed essay in Music for Airports, Songs For the Broken Hearted obeys the law that ambience should be listened to as often as it’s unconsciously ignored. And true to form, I’ve forgotten that it is playing most every time I’ve put it on.

The key to true ambient music, beyond a successful series of zone-outs, is that when you become aware of it again, fresh from its snail-slow deviations, you should instinctively reflect on your purchase’s quality. It’s like awaking from a night’s sleep in a new bed and judging its comfort. When I snap back into reality after one of Songs For the Broken Hearted’s suffocating drones, I’m pissed off. I question how Windy & Carl possess such notoriety in their field when label-mates (White Rainbow, Lichens) are far more interesting. I chastise myself for buying it on an impulse, believing that it might become ideal for that particular autumn day. More than anything, I wonder how much of my Ipod battery has been lost to uninspired layers of sludge. In Eno-theory, this record should be good… but Songs For the Broken Hearted props ambience as much as any amateur musician who personally invests themselves in formless, one-key marathons. You’ll ignore this far more often than you’ll listen.

Benni Hemm Hemm - Benni Hemm Hemm (So Long, Ruins!)

Benni Hemm Hemm

Benni Hemm Hemm
Morr Music.

SCQ Rating: 37%

Anyone who even casually peruses this blog should know that Morr Music is among my favourite labels… and finding their releases at a cheap price is a rare case indeed. My girlfriend and I were on hand to witness Sam the Record Man’s last stand on Yonge Street two years ago, and while rummaging through their heavily discounted inventory, I came across Benni Hemm Hemm’s disastrously covered debut. He’d conquered his native Iceland, wowed the folks of a fine label and earned some now-commonplace comparisons to Sufjan Stevens. Even reading over those points I just made, I feel like I made the right decision. How could I go wrong? Why, in several key areas...

I failed to anticipate that Benni Hemm Hemm might try to pass off its songs with the same twee-cuteness that screams from its cover like a billboard. I failed to consider the odds that anyone (from Iceland or anywhere) is going to be accurately matched to Sufjan Stevens, folk-god extraordinaire. Most embarrassingly, I failed to admit to myself that I was buying this disc more for the Morr symbol in the bottom left corner than for the artist’s hard work. The entire affair, from their bookending ‘Beginning End’ instrumentals to the fractured English of ‘I Can Love You in a Wheelchair Baby’, reeks of ‘ah shucks’ bashfulness, and really, if albums are purported weapons used to pick up chicks, Sufjan already had girls and guys alike disrobed with his ode to serial-killer John Wayne Gacy Jr. How the hell did Sufjan do it? Why, with talent.

Honeycomb - Frank Black (So Long, Ruins!)

Honeycomb

Frank Black
Back Porch Records.

SCQ Rating: 41%

A previous job I held introduced me to the redundant magic of internet radio, which in turn opened my ears to Frank Black’s solo work. From the moment I heard ‘I Burn Today’, Honeycomb was on my to-buy list. The song was brisk and sunny like the spring weather I always pine for, with unhinged bits of piano and bells backing Black’s coarse vocals. So compelling that song was (and still is, as of tonight), I refused to hear more until the disc was in my possession. That was a mistake.

So much of this album feels chafed between Black’s bored ruminating and an obscure label’s gamble on success. ‘Selkie Bride’ and the title track best represent Black’s tedious lack of variation, while ‘Song of the Shrimp’, Elvis cover or not, plain sucks. I have to hand it to his choice of label - if in name only – as Honeycomb could only pass unnoticed on a noisy back-porch of super-polite guests. The mood is right, the tempo is sympathetic for lonely drunks, but the songwriting and performance sink Honeycomb before it’s out of the gate.

Standards - Tortoise (So Long, Ruins!)

Standards

Tortoise
Thrill Jockey Records.

SCQ Rating: 56%

Never buy strange records after a few drinks. In fact, any music-lover should steer clear of drunk record-shopping, period! If you’re not careful, you’ll wind up walking out into the night with something critics hailed as a classic several years back and a twister of journalist’s paraphrased sound-bytes jumbling around your brain, jazzing you up for no reason. Is Standards impressive because it’s enjoyable or because it’s trying to impress? ‘Seneca’ is a widescreen, spaghetti-western of an opener, dropping a gauntlet of free-form jazz drumming and heavy bass. Moments nearly match ‘Seneca’ throughout Standard’s start-stop pace, but most of it feels too mechanical; as if the creativity behind it all was so forced that we, as listeners, learn to anticipate its stressed-out objectives. Yeah, it’s impressive in that these songs now exist whereas they didn’t before, but I doubt that’s what all their math-rock and tweaked synths were aiming for.

Merriweather Post Pavilion - Animal Collective

Merriweather Post Pavilion

Animal Collective
Domino Records.

SCQ Rating: 91%

When discussing the discography of Animal Collective, I must admit that I’ve always held the Brooklyn band’s material at an arm’s distance. Despite being drawn to their breakout Sung Tongs for its more sensational details (those same hoots, hollers and bird squawks that came to represent “freak-folk”), I couldn’t treat their output as delicately or lovingly as other bands whose music truly spoke through me. When the majority of your favourite albums shed light on relationships and mortality, Animal Collective’s refusal to address common (or, for that matter, penetrable) subject matter may've bolstered their ranks among stoner circles but pigeonholed my records for strict weekend chill-outs. Feels challenged that disconnect, as did last spring’s Water Curses EP, yet none so stunningly as Merriweather Post Pavilion.

The greatest and most futile question at hand is its immediacy: what strikes first? Is it Avey, Panda and Geologist’s embrace of mainstream styles? Or their vocals, now front and center in the mix? How about Merriweather...’s unusually pristine production? Or the band’s undeniable growth as songwriters? Truth is, the countless examples of Merriweather Post Pavilion’s immediacy within the first two tracks are potent enough to seriously damage your brain, be it the eerie/explosive awakening of ‘In the Flowers’ or some two-step inspired electro-pop on ‘My Girls’. Whichever aspect to Animal Collective’s progression represents your particular first-listen epiphany isn’t really important; they’re each crucial to this record’s importance. In short, Merriweather… is easily the Brooklyn band’s most comprehensible album – the vocals are up-front, insightful lyrics, stellar production and the songs are indestructible – but none of these breakthroughs come at the expense of Animal Collective’s identity. Their oddity remains as potent as ever, and Merriweather Post Pavilion, despite its universal bravado, is likely their greatest mindfuck yet. Not because it’s unnerving… no, not anymore… but now because it’s awe-inspiring.

Genre-labels have never been of use when describing Animal Collective’s discography, partly because yes, they’re pioneers of their craft, but also because they’ve never stood by a particular sound for longer than one full-length. Critics are reduced to amateurish descriptors that the band must relish in; Sung Tongs was accessible in its “acoustic” approach, Feels was its “electric” counterpart, and Strawberry Jam incorporated “electronic” loops and textures. Pretty detailed stuff. Merriweather Post Pavilion’s sound takes liberally from past efforts – notably the raw energy of Feels matched to Strawberry Jam’s sonic experimentation – but filters the band’s use of intensity and adventurism into the most gloriously polished, lushly arranged album of their career. And because each AC album sports its own inarticulate sound, as difficult to pinpoint as a dream’s narrative, I’ll now join other critics with my take: Merriweather… is built on prog-rock songs tempered to the elements and rhythms of dance music. Each composition unfurls its verses like backhanded secrets before honing in on maximized choruses.

This immediacy in all categories combines to form an album so powerful it’s nearly negating. At eleven songs, fifty-four minutes and not a wasted moment, I almost wish Merriweather… was trimmed (by even one song) to alleviate the strain on my senses. Yet how can I complain when the results are this thrilling? Where the band used to throw five song ideas into a rapid-fire collage (think ‘Who Could Win a Rabbit’, ‘Grass’, ‘Water Curses’), Merriweather… finds Animal Collective exploring songwriting paths only coarsely mapped on previous outings. ‘Also Frightened’ could’ve been a stuttering bridge to an AC song of old, but here it’s established, layered upon and fully realized. Where ‘Summertime Clothes’ takes a dirty garage riff (like a distant cousin to Hot Chip’s ‘Over and Over’) and develops their most retro-sounding pop song to date, ‘No More Runnin’ is the band’s most structured slow song to date, all nostalgic keys and evening-still bass.

My copy of Merriweather Post Pavilion was first unwrapped in Montreal, where a friend and I had planned to meet and partake in first-listen ceremonies. As the disc spun, my friend lamented over how unexpectedly perfect it would’ve been had someone taken a picture of us, sitting attentively on the couch, when the first percussive tantrums of ‘In the Flowers’ pounded loose of his speakers. A photograph of that moment would’ve caught us inches over the couch-cushions, eyes wide and minds blown. Now the year is young, and I refuse to close any discussion of as-yet-unreleased albums that might challenge Merriweather…’s 2009-supremacy bid, yet I marvel at how this album extinguished my hesitant disconnect between AC tunes and my life. To paraphrase and modify one of its finest lyrics: is this album really all the things that are outside of me? I’m beginning to believe it is.

The Eraser RMXS - Thom Yorke

The Eraser Remixes

Thom Yorke
XL Records.

SCQ Rating: 73%

Remixes are a dodgy form of auteurship; focused solely on sonic advances and always a few people removed from its original inspiration. Like your average, major label cover-song, there’s an artificial element to remixes that I’ve rarely been able to get over. Maybe that’s why I’ve ignored the various mp3s of Eraser remixes floating between e-retailers and blogs since late 2007. So when a gold shimmer of The Eraser RMXS’s holographic cover caught my eye, I was surprised by my own temptation. You see, having loved The Eraser (in fact, it was SCQ’s #4 album of 2006) and being a fan of Burial and Four Tet, XL’s decision to amalgamate these tracks into a cohesive, attractive whole won me over. So how does Eraser RMXS sound to a first-time listener and remix-hater? Pretty good, actually.

Beyond shiny cover-art and curious guest-remixers, it was Thom Yorke’s noted admiration for this material and his desire to have it packaged that sealed the deal and I must say, the man has yet to disappoint. As with most any remix borne from a half-decent track, the source material has to be enjoyable and while The Eraser might not stand the test of time as well as Radiohead’s output, this collection is a lively reminder of how good Yorke’s solo debut is. These remixers seem to know it as well. Beyond punchier beats and a cool tempo switch on Yorke’s vocals, Surgeon sticks pretty close to the original ‘The Clock’ while Burial adds his trademark grime-step taps overtop the familiar ‘And It Rained All Night’. Countering the recognizable sounds is Modeselektor who improves upon ‘Skip Divided’ (arguably the only dull spot from Eraser) with cool vocal effects, better momentum and truly just an attentive ear for Yorke’s composition. The most impressive display of remixing likely goes to Christian Vogel’s Spare Parts mix of ‘Black Swan’ which attaches staccato rhythms and found-sounds to Yorke’s lonely guitar-jam, thusly transforming it into a globe-trotting dance track. That’s not doing it enough justice, though, as Vogel slows things down at the four-minute mark for some live instrumentation that is metallic-sounding yet organic. The Eraser RMXS works so well because each producer takes their given song down an alleyway altogether removed from both their original contexts and the direction of their colleagues. Many cases of full album remixes result in candy-coated dance affairs that grow increasingly tedious. That Eraser RMXS explores new sonic avenues while honouring Yorke’s hard work makes this disc commendable.

Of course, whenever you have nine tracks organized by eight different, fully capable producers, you’re bound to find some heavy contrast between spellbinding work and weak areas. Where Four Tet unravels a second, more lovely artichoke heart in highlight ‘Atoms For Peace’, Vogel’s Bonus Beat mix (was its title enough of a hint?) of ‘Black Swan’ is that aforementioned tedious dance track that goes nowhere rather slowly. Due to the remix’s natural tendency to go for broke, The Eraser RMXS suffers from the occasional speaker-overload where maximized ideas begin clashing… but fans of remixes should have no quarrel there. As for people who aren’t as keen on the whole business, you’ll be happy to know there’s an eight-minute remix by the Field, ideally situated smack-dab in the middle of the album, that quietly hypnotizes you with a five-second clip of ‘Cymbal Rush’ looped endlessly. You might not buy into it but at least you’ll have the chance to recover your senses before they’re blown apart all over again.

Grand - Matt & Kim

Grand

Matt and Kim
Fader Records.

SCQ Rating: 62%

Apparently Grand, the sophomore record of Matt Johnson and Kim Schifino’s, was two years in the making. While such a claim timelines well with their growing reputation among under-the-rug indie circles, it hardly compliments the material. Now thankfully I didn’t notice when syncing Grand to my Ipod that it clocks in at a meager 29 minutes because honestly, it’s a drag feeling ripped off before even hearing what you’ve bought. Of course, when final track ‘Daylight Outro Mix’ finishes well before I even catch my bus, the lowered expectations sneak up. Now while good things do indeed come in small packages, you’re bound to start wondering why an “outro” remix of its opening song still cannot buoy this record over a half hour! Again, I’m getting agitated…

Grand starts promisingly, if not misleadingly, with their two best tracks; ‘Daylight’ introduces us to their peppy piano lines and staccato vocal hooks, which are given some pressure on the rapid-fire drum ‘n’ synth follow-up ‘Cutdown’. Their sound is sparsely focused between stomping percussion, cheap casio-styled keys, and the odd organ flourish, and while this omits the usual instruments one expects to hear on an indie-rock record, Matt and Kim make it sound professional and effortless. Although some trite “na-na-na”’s are emboldened by delicate keys on ‘Lessons Learned’ and a disco beat carries ‘I’ll Take You Home’, it’s difficult to ignore how delicate these arrangements are when judged against one another.

In other words (because I want to make myself perfectly clear), many of these songs sound terribly alike. Beyond a few too-familiar vocal lines, the culprit of this monotony lies in Matt and Kim’s songwriting. The duo write songs that leap out at the listener with a solid understanding of pop dynamics, yet without any motive or sense of direction, proceed to chase their own tails, figuratively speaking. This weakness accounts for the repetitiveness, no doubt, but also explains why several tracks here die before (or around) the two-minute mark. Among these non-committal songs are the worst offenders: ‘Turn This Boat Around’ exhibits what happens when Matt & Kim think they can get by without punchy tempos, while ‘Don’t Slow Down’ takes a two-key synth-line stolen from your baby cousin’s Mickey Mouse Workout DVD and, lacking any lyrical insights, decides to stick closely by its title. These tracks do more than simply remind us that Grand is an incredibly short album; it relieves us to find that, at the very least, Matt & Kim know when to call it a day.