It All Falls Apart - The Sight Below

It All Falls Apart

The Sight Below
Ghostly International.

SCQ Rating: 76%

What seemed so exemplary about Glider, Rafael Anton Irisarri AKA The Sight Below’s 2008 debut, was how it introduced his craft fully formed. His ability to evoke complicated strains of hope and melancholy from looped guitars was enough to turn any laptop purist green with envy, while even his fondness for 4/4 beats fronted an audiophile-worthy understudy of distinct details and subtle, offsetting rhythms. In short, Glider presented an artist perfecting one of electronica’s most compelling subgenres live-off-the-floor and its iron-tight focus left little need for second offerings. Fittingly, It All Falls Apart acknowledges the finite possibilities of continuing Glider’s dancefloor-cinematics, stripping back its thumping beats and diving into the murky echoes of Irisarri’s rippling guitar-work.

If Glider was understandably misinterpreted as an homage to Wolfgang Voigt’s Gas project, It All Falls Apart imparts a more sprawling facet of The Sight Below’s unique sound that suggests a closer affinity for shoegaze. With his signature beats marginalized to later tracks, The Sight Below devotes the spotlight of ‘Shimmer’ and ‘Fervent’ to his effect-laden six-strings, creating waves of ebbing drones that bleed into one another, all grays and blues. Think of it as shoegaze evaporating; its muddled guitars like upside-down icicles dripping toward the heavens, forming cloud-heavy structures from whispered progressions. Some of this inherent robustness owes credit to Slowdive’s Simon Scott, who reportedly contributed to the whole of It All Falls Apart and offered insights toward Irisarri’s expansive new compositions (none more so than ‘Stagger’, the thirteen-minute closing track that meanders but never aimlessly, dawdles but never tediously). What else could encompass shoegaze in the year 2010 as truthfully as this series of muddled explorations, swagger-less and spectral?

Like The Field’s strategy on Yesterday & Today, Irisarri permits It All Falls Apart’s extensive track-lengths for the sake of mixing new techniques with older ones… and it’s time well-spent. The metronome-like pulse of Glider still finds some vistas to occupy here, pushing the Copia-era Eluvium haze of ‘Burn Me Out From the Inside’ forward or sifting between the surface of ‘Through the Gaps In the Land’ and its dim oblivion. Besides these two tracks showing off the subtle evolution Irisarri first promised with last fall’s Murmur EP, the reemergence of some beat-driven compositions goes far in complimenting this follow-up’s new direction. Also in line with Yesterday & Today is how The Sight Below’s first vocal presence (courtesy of Tiny Vespers singer Jesy Fortino) is a first cover (Joy Division’s ‘New Dawn Fades’) which should thrill some noir-minded indie-kids as thoroughly as fans of gloomy electronica. Both tragically brooding mood-music and fatalistic dancefloor fodder, It All Falls Apart matches its cover-art by sounding, dare I say, cosmopolitan… the type of record that evokes numbed sensuality as clearly as it does overcast landscapes.

A Young Person's Guide To Kyle Bobby Dunn - Kyle Bobby Dunn

A Young Person’s Guide To Kyle Bobby Dunn

Kyle Bobby Dunn
Low Point Records.

SCQ Rating: 80%

Oh, what navel-gazing, hopeless romantics we ambient music fans are. Always finding cinematic qualities from the everyday and poignant memories within delicate notes, we’re the types destined to languish in armchairs between drawn-out drones and street-car seats overlooking tonal hues. Agents of immobility, daydreamers with good intentions. Yet in spite of our demeanor – us ambient children are pretty docile – the overabundance of composers in the genre often tempts us to bite the hand that feeds. Since the birth of Muzak Inc. in the 1950s, the notion of background music has divided into several overarching sects and, of these divisions (field-recordings, laptop-based, ambient-techno, new age, etc.), finding an album tagged with your personal slice of ambience, the form you love and admire, can be surprisingly difficult.

A Young Person’s Guide To Kyle Bobby Dunn is not only a collection that amasses Dunn’s 2009 effort Fervency with an additional record’s worth from those sessions; it’s a beginner’s guide to all that’s untarnished and genuine about the ambient that Brian Eno philosophized in 1978, that Stars Of the Lid have carried so vigilantly into the twenty-first century. How Kyle Bobby Dunn, a young person himself, learned to measure these orchestral undercurrents with a majesty worthy of such contemporaries is beyond me, yet there’s undeniable wisdom at work throughout this near two-hour set. From the complacent urgency throbbing at the fringes of ‘Promenade’ to the light-beam swimming-pool of ‘There Is No End To Your Beauty’, A Young Person’s Guide To… coats its atmospheres to the corners of rooms and the horizons of one’s travels… which is to say, the sole talent ambient music has always boasted freely about: the ability to paint our everyday perspective with surrealist tones. Tracks like ‘Nightjar’, which stealthily harbours minor-key shadows, and the refined hope of ‘The Tributary (For Voices Lost) handily accomplish this expectation without leading its listener through pre-planned moods. Not only does this uncalculated approach to ambient music score points as an objective emotional soundtrack, it allows us to work this record in, like a pair of new sneakers, on our own terms.

A no-brainer for any ambient-loving, anxiety-addled or daydream-prone music-lover, A Young Person’s Guide To Kyle Bobby Dunn gathers a sound seemingly borne of particles, closer in kinship to concrete hums and melting frost than the sighing drones, feather-light keys and distant brass that assemble these compositions. It functions as mood-music, sure, but these tracks quietly transgress their origin-points, ushering in the uneasy (as on the nightmarish close of ‘Butel’) as well as the elegiac (on ‘Sets Of Four’’s lone piano). An essential companion for time spent alone.

Atlas - The American Dollar

Atlas

The American Dollar
Yesh Music.

SCQ Rating: 68%

This should be an n5MD record, I thought, as 'A Few Words''s resonating ambience and dense beat-programming encouraged a swirl of intense piano arpeggios. Fitting ideally to that label’s pristine post-rock leanings, The American Dollar (the duo of John Emanuele and Rich Cupolo) split their interest between electronic tell-tales and dramatically epic dynamics… a style that befits that imprint self-described as prescribing “emotional experiments in music”. Yet when I noticed a few days ago that Atlas was actually available to buy via Yesh Music on n5MD’s extensive multi-label mail-order page, the distinction made perfect sense. Instead of adhering to n5MD’s forward-thinking ethos which seeks to blend familiar post-rock or electronic sounds with unmapped trajectories, The American Dollar act as a pocket-sized n5MD act, paving a more direct route to listeners’ heart-strings with super-melodic, shape-shifting works of utter beauty.

If there’s a problem with this approach, it’s that The American Dollar never credit their audience with enough patience to allow themselves any freedom. Each of these thirteen tracks open in beds of shimmering restlessness or punchy percussion but the speed in which many rush to overblown climaxes seems to nullify any grandiose intentions. ‘Oil and Water’ gleams like encrusted crystals, ominous and ear-pleasing, but hops upon a one-way piano route to guitar-solo excess in less than three minutes. That same fate dilutes the impact of ‘Second Sight’ and the romance of ‘Flood’, charging into volumes of layers when, at their most minimal, The American Dollar truly own their emotional narratives. Such is the case with ‘Frontier Melt’, a stunner that tightropes its sonic divide by matching electric guitar to a plateau of deft live-drums and interwoven keys. Supplemented by the twilight beauty of ‘Circuits’ and ‘Escapist’, there’s a strong case between the lines of Atlas for the duo’s best work arriving when they discard their songwriting’s extreme peaks and valleys.

Endless barrage of crescendos or not, this latest release by Emanuele and Cupolo makes no qualms over the fact that these are two obviously talented musicians with impenetrable technical prowess and focus. And in that compliment, Atlas is that rare album you could rip any individual song from, put it on a mixtape and have it blow someone’s mind. Yet it’s almost as if The American Dollar are too reliant in their knowledge of post-rock’s techniques as, one after another on record, these ideas are condensed into a tried-and-true wash of heavy-handed signifiers. By compartmentalizing the sound of n5MD into miniature epics, Atlas loses sight on any unifying mood and feels broken down by its self-imposed fault-lines. For virginal fans of pretty, all-encompassing post-rock, though, you would be doing yourself a disservice to ignore The American Dollar’s latest step toward accessibility.

A Chorus Of Storytellers - The Album Leaf

A Chorus of Storytellers

The Album Leaf
Subpop Records.

SCQ Rating: 73%

I suppose I had this coming. With each previous Album Leaf review, I’ve nit-picked a shortlist of ways Jimmy Lavalle appeared content to continue churning out pretty and harmless electronic-tinged post-rock and, with Into the Blue Again, the San Diego-based songwriter seemed positively trapped by his own careful template. A wistful melody that elegantly curls itself, some tasteful live drums, a prominent use of violin and a boatload of electronic keys; that’s the Album Leaf stencil, ever-beautiful but increasingly streamlined from his younger days. If Lavalle planned to continue a career of this moniker, something had to give, and A Chorus Of Storytellers provides just that breeze to freshen Album Leaf’s stagnant vibe: a live band.

Now determining what Lavalle’s new entourage of musicians means, beyond a press-angle, is harder to decipher. Fellas like Matt Resovich and Drew Andrews have played on previous albums to lesser acclaim, while a track aptly named ‘Standstill’ purports the same template we’ve known and submitted to for the past decade, only this time less indebted to electronica. While it sounds redundant to claim The Album Leaf’s growth to a five-piece succeeds in making the project sound less isolated, that’s precisely what A Chorus of Storytellers accomplishes – a fully organic band playing to Jimmy Lavalle’s familiar fetters. After a surprisingly slow start, ‘There Is a Wind’ opens the record with a poignant highlight of majestic strings and deft percussion. It also showcases Lavalle’s improved vocals, which serviceably upgrade the forward-moving ‘We Are’ and the downhill side of the slope on ‘Almost There’. Vocal tracks aside, it wouldn’t be a promising addition to the Album Leaf canon without including a few slow-burners to contend with classics ‘Twentytwofourteen’ or ‘Into the Sea’. Earning their spot amid such peaks is ‘Until the Last’, an uplifting, orchestrated swoon of the Icelandic variety, and ‘Summer Fog’, which approaches the soundscapes of yesterday with a surprising post-classical touch. All that said, it should come as no surprise to read that A Chorus Of Storytellers’ songwriting quality shows no obvious boosts or declines from previous efforts, but the aesthetic direction alone will surely divide listeners. An odd laptop beat infrequently rises above the live-drums, on the crisp loop underscoring ‘Within Dreams’ or as the lazy breakbeat that trips up ‘Falling From the Sun’, but The Album Leaf’s electronic profile has diluted to the point of matching radio-rock bands like Incubus, who toss a peripheral scratch or beat in merely to stylize another genre.

On one hand, A Chorus of Storytellers and the Phase Two (or is that The Album Leaf 2.0?) it ushers in can be interpreted as a coming-out party for Lavalle’s long-celebrated introversion. These songs pound and swell with a human pulse and, while they parade the same melodic avenues as records’ past, one can feel a veil that once shrouded The Album Leaf being lifted. Of course, the other side of this outlook is that Lavalle badly needs that electronic veil and by discarding it, he’s losing the provocative details that forgave his occasional schmaltz. Even if I side with the latter group, a split decision with regards to Album Leaf’s die-hard, emblem-tattooed following is always welcome, not to mention a sign that The Album Leaf have at least a few surprises up their sleeve.

Western Theater - Mighty Tiger

Western Theater

Mighty Tiger
Paper Garden Records.

SCQ Rating: 71%

A lesson to those toiling in the press-release market: just because you’re spilling nothing but accolades doesn’t mean you can’t hurt the album at the heart of it all. Take my nearly devastating first-listen to Western Theater which, prefaced by a well-written comparison to Sufjan Steven, had me stupefied over first cut ‘Voyeur Heaven’ and its campy, Animal Collective-lite enthusiasm. My heart literally deflated a little bit. Yet I consider that moment only nearly devastating because the following few months have revealed all that’s right with Mighty Tiger, like how their earthy-fresh arrangements eclipse any feeble indie-auteur comparisons. Besides, dude sounds like Ben Folds, c’mon now!

In stark contrast to their publicized rep for intrepid, heartwarming pop, Western Theater best promotes this Seattle-based quintet with its more reflective material. Mid-tempo and carefully layered, ‘Signature Cup’ builds its haze of tangible sounds – harmonizing vocals, distant keys – to impress upon listeners an unpredictable organic swoon. That same quiet majesty is woven into ‘A Reason To Keep Breathing’, which mans a sturdy piano progression before climbing like vapour into vertical offshoots and dissipating over multiple vocal harmonies. Perhaps the key to keeping these comparatively slower tracks lively lies in the band’s knack for a melody, as even minimally produced tracks like ‘Chibi Girl’, with its languid delivery and banjo, stick tightly to my memory cells. The versatility of these melodies rubs off on Mighty Tiger’s more pedestrian fare, as ‘Rook To King’ is motivated more by vocal lines than any pace-keeping percussion.

I’ll even admit that tracks like ‘Voyeur Heaven’ end up compulsory to appreciating Mighty Tiger’s significant scope, not only as expert arrangers but as quality songwriters. That sickening-then-charming zest for fun-loving pop translates from the vague Figure 8 Smith-isms of ‘33 1/3’ and lyrical landmines of ‘Ecto Cooler’ to a more remarkable, investable collection of songs. Not every song on Western Theater makes the grade but it’s worth checking out if only to find those slow-blossoming highlights well after you’ve written the disc off. The sunniest dark-horse record of 2010? Now there's a proclamation for the press-releases...

Romance Is Boring - Los Campesinos!

Romance is Boring

Los Campesinos!
Arts & Crafts Records.

SCQ Rating: 72%

Well, the hangover was bound to come at some point. After two rapid-fire releases that first established Los Campesinos! as undergrad pranksters (Hold On Now, Youngster) then self-destructive deviants (We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed), it seemed appropriate that LP3 would find the Wales-based seven-piece anchoring their lovelorn lyrics and cathartic outbursts to increasingly grayer rainclouds. And anchor they have; there are moments on Romance Is Boring so lushly defeatist, you’d swear Gareth Campesino! and his bandmates were throwing themselves overboard. First single ‘The Sea Is a Good Place To Think Of the Future’ hinted at great things, covering all the bleak observations that serrated their earlier record’s good humour but embracing that genius sans irony, and by the close of first song ‘In Medias Res’, you’ll wish you could hand-wrap, mail and share this record with that one girl or guy you easily could’ve landed with had you both just been vulnerable enough at the same time.

After such a brilliantly messy, heart-stopping opener, it’s almost a shame that the whole of Romance Is Boring is equally unbalanced. For every track that represents a stepping-stone for the seven-piece band in terms of songwriting or musicianship, there’s a brief regression into the band’s frantic indie-pop fare. The woozy, orchestral beauty of ‘Who Fell Asleep In’ – a Los Campesinos! track unlike any other – is followed by the noisy ‘I Warned You Do Not Make An Enemy Of Me’ which rifles through chords with hapless abandon, just as the edgy verses of the title track devolve into the predictable schoolyard vocal lines that characterized Hold On Now, Youngster. Their transformation into fatalistic, too-emotional-for-emo songwriters ends up stealing the show on Romance Is Boring, unintentionally rendering its upbeat material phoned-in by comparison. After two albums of caffeine-addled rock so jubilant Gareth had to squeeze his lyrics in as if his band wouldn’t wait for him, it’s exciting to hear them sobering to the realities of age and, well, sobriety, and adjusting their song structures to be more spacious, more fulfilling. Romance Is Boring tries to have it both ways, honouring their indie-pop fanbase while wallowing in a richer, textural sound. And while it doesn’t all iron out into one cohesive record, it does make a convincing case that we’ve pinned Los Campesinos! strengths entirely upside-down.

Se Denouer - Poler Bear

Se Denouer

Poler Bear
Self Released.

SCQ Rating: 78%

As far as I’m concerned, any indie record store worth its salt has a local music section full of consigned releases muddled in all their canvas-sleeved, tape-decked glory. From Toronto’s hangouts to Ottawa’s, such creative packaging and ancient formats fail to attract the reasonable quotient of music-nerds I know exist, and so the label hierarchy will heedlessly continue in spite of albums like Poler Bear’s Se Denouer, one of the quietly brilliant self-released gambles worth your hard-earned dollar.

Unfolding with the ominous grace of a Constellation recording, Poler Bear’s Josh Robinson bypasses the urge to pace his starry compositions into a building uproar typical of Godspeed! You Black Emperor or Thee Silver Mt. Zion. Instead Robinson occupies these eight songs like a wise spectre, haunting the arrangements with guitar tones that simmer under glum chords or vocals that register as muted and gray as the instruments themselves. ‘Catapult… They Call Your Name’ is a light dirge of both, the voice and guitar creating a nearly inseparable hum of post-rock serenity, while ‘Again With the Sea’ drifts a two-chord sentiment like a sea-shanty on the edge of the world. When Robinson isn’t singing, he often includes snippets of dialogue from media or historical recordings; a method of contextualizing instrumental work that, in 2010, sounds almost old-school. In the case of ‘Flying Paper Airplanes’, the repeated clip of a World War II speech becomes a mild agitation that nearly distracts from the track’s mood. On ‘Atticus the Brave’, however, the inclusion of film/movie dialogue seems ideal not only because it’s one of Se Denouer’s most moving tracks but because the segment, which mentions a woman who has caused some terrible wrong without breaking any law, adequately establishes a lead for the album’s quiet, subsequent heartbreak.

Sound depressing? It’s actually rather uplifting, which suggests an impressive emotional scope given its minimal production, as Robinson always offsets a song’s glum character with some optimistic light… even if that optimism seems hopelessly tragic. The simple yet timeless chords of ‘Adieu Great Captain’, like many of these compositions, peer beneath the clutter and bombast we seek in bands like Explosions In the Sky and Sigur Ros to boast the skeletal proofs of what keep this genre so promising. Stretching violins into cabin-warm drones, title track ‘Se Denouer’ beats the heart of this disc, evoking not only the roots of post-rock’s effectiveness, but the raw moments in life that inspire it.

Opiate Sun EP - Jesu (No Ripcord Review)

Opiate Sun EP

Jesu
Caldoverde Records.

No Ripcord Review: 6
SCQ Rating: 60%

Despite his insanely prolific schedule and involvement in no less than five bands (among them the notable Napalm Death and Godflesh), not even Justin Broadrick can escape the inevitable clutches of predictability. By the time his Jesu moniker had turned four years of age, the ex-metalhead had crossed eleven releases off his to-do list… including three in 2008 alone. And with each split release or extended-play unveiled within months of each other, Jesu’s sneak-attacks grew increasingly linear, showcasing a speedy change-of-heart from sludgy post-rock to industrial electronics. One year since his synthetic love climaxed on Why Are We Not Perfect EP, Broadrick breaks the chain with Opiate Sun; a left-turn for home that should reward old fans without completely deafening his newer following.

Announcing his return to hard-rock roots, opening track ‘Losing Streak’ is a well-paced collision of crashing cymbals and guitar distortion that recalls the fist-pumping bravado of Silver. That song’s sanguine vocal hooks are compounded on the following title track, which drives a slower, penetrating groove for Broadrick to imbed with slowburning guitar arpeggios. By the time ‘Deflated’ kicks in with its chugging metal verses, any doubts that Opiate Sun was designed to be Jesu’s return-to-form EP should be sailing out the window. Of course, the “metal” in Jesu remains largely cosmetic, its wall-to-wall guitar blasts, always chest out to confront first-impressions, are merely make-up to disguise Broadrick’s identity as a romantic songwriter. And that’s why I love Jesu; his albums are so boisterous and eardrum-splitting, it’s easy to forget that what Broadrick is really force-feeding us is his own vulnerability. Giving that complex songwriting some subtlety in the form of minor electronics may have upset early followers but it also balanced and progressed his sonic palette. Such studio frills are omitted and ultimately missed on Opiate Sun, replaced with a stubborn volume that negates Jesu’s understated third-dimension. These four songs properly house Broadrick’s comfort zone but, despite his effective songwriting, Opiate Sun feels like a retread of raw, less imaginative years.

Why Are We Not Perfect no doubt had its share of growing pains but its electronic veneer allowed clearer dynamics, better soundscapes and a wider horizon of Jesu possibilities. And although Broadrick’s latest offering manages a break from that trajectory, the most striking sneak-attack is that instead of appearing courtesy of Avalanche Recordings (his own imprint) or regular Broadrick label-of-choice Hydrahead, Opiate Sun arrives in stores thanks to Caldoverde – the home of Sun Kil Moon maestro Mark Kozelek. As random as it initially seems considering the instrumental incongruities dividing folk from hard-rock, these two artists have much in common; both reside within the stretched-out purgatory of slowcore emoting, often muffling their vocals beneath modest compositions. In the end, Broadrick manages to withhold some unpredictability… partly because he rejected his own label in favour of someone else’s but mostly because Opiate Sun is homogenously fighting his greater strengths and, bizarrely enough, those that compliment the Caldoverde roster.

(This review was originally published on No Ripcord...)

(Measure) - Field Music (LIVE March 19th at Horseshoe Tavern!!)

(Measure)

Field Music
Memphis Industries.

SCQ Rating: 75%

A chance-happening at a listening station first introduced me to Field Music, when the multicoloured verbosity of their Write Your Own History caught my eye. Standing there listening to the first minute or two of each track suggested an outstanding record, one worthy of forking over the insane import-price of $30, and although the entire nine-track disc ended up running shy of twenty-seven minutes, I’ve never regretted the purchase. Still, the slight disappointment I retain from that anecdote brings to mind a key reason I hold the Brewis Bros’ work at a distance: their songs are criminally short. And when Tones of Town added complex structures to their abbreviated tunes, Field Music seemed to be darting toward a thousand lovely possibilities but burning out before owning any of their ideas.

All that said, the surprise to (Measure) isn’t that it exists – c’mon now, every good hiatus lasts about two years – but that Peter and David Brewis have returned with a record that, stitch for stitch, remedies each of my shrugging critiques. I crossed my fingers throughout the lush menace of ‘In the Mirror’, which moves as svelte as headlights across a darkened bedroom, hoping they wouldn’t shift into a symphonic, McCartney-esque stomp or a tepid a cappella moment. They didn’t. Not only does (Measure) focus on and flesh-out a generous handful of Field Music’s countless great song ideas, it easily earns its reputation as Field Music’s least cute album. Sure, a slice of its maturity may seem superficial (for those of you who don’t find the idea of a two-disc, seventy-minute Field Music album completely absurd), but (Measure) would be just as brash and tough if you cut half of these twenty tracks. While the clean acoustics of ‘Them That Do Nothing’ climb over a steady rhythm, ‘All You’d Ever Need To Say’ touches up on yesteryear’s blues-rock. Unlikely as it may seem, Field Music somehow evokes a polished Broadway-bound Led Zeppelin on many of these tracks, from ‘Precious Plans’’s six-string rumination to the garage-y breakdown of ‘Share the Words’. Stranger yet, it’s a brawny direction that seeks to showcase - not undermine - the songwriters’ well-honed cleverness and orchestral charms.

Of course if Field Music remain ambassadors of anything, it’s as English-pop purveyors who never close any door and (Measure) – no matter how focused, how well-bricked – certainly tests the genre-pool over its twenty tracks. The nine-minute ‘It’s About Time’ may befuddle its purpose between minimal string quartet and field recording and ‘Let’s Write a Book’ doesn’t mind uncrating weird 80s presets that call to mind the Ghostbuster soundtrack, but these asides don’t distract from what (Measure) ultimately achieves: a commanding epic from a band accustomed to punching out half-hour art-pop records. So if you’re in the Toronto area this Friday, be sure to grab tickets to see Field Music play the legendary Horseshoe Tavern. Need another reason? Um, the Clientele… It’s going to be one of the best Horseshoe shows all year.

Let This Be the Last Night We Care - Alcoholic Faith Mission

Let This Be the Last Night We Care

Alcoholic Faith Mission
PonyRec / Paper Garden Records.

SCQ Rating: 83%

In early December, maybe one week before I wrapped 2009 into the year-end picnic basket I call SCQ’s Top Twenty Albums list, 421 Wythe Avenue fell heavily into my lap. With distinct yet connected songs like ‘Escapism’ and ‘Sweet Evelyn’ in tow, 421 Wythe Avenue’s varied flow of bohemian strife and loneliness lent well to those early winter days spent alone with open-flapped boxes, as I hurried my farewell from Toronto. Given that I still listen to it often, I have little doubt Alcoholic Faith Mission’s sophomore could’ve landed on my year-end list had I discovered it a month or two earlier.

But why get hung up on the would’ve-could’ve’s when Alcoholic Faith Mission, easily Denmark’s most promising export, have already churned out another new album? Hot on the heels of their non-stop touring schedule, Let This Be the Last Night We Care wastes no time lamenting their old Brooklyn address, beefing up their quirky anthems with added bombast. From the onset this more muscled approach proves an irresistible upgrade, igniting the determined percussion of ‘My Eyes To See’ and searing into a festival-worthy chorus for ‘Got Love? Got Shellfish!’. Crowding the record’s top half, you’d be forgiven for assuming Alcoholic Faith Mission had rid themselves of the melancholy that shone like rain on Wythe Avenue’s windows – but fear not! As if the Copenhagen quintet found a way to harness those emotional peaks that scattered past releases, Let This Be the Last Night We Care uses those sporadic cases of cathartic genius as a leaping-off point. How else can one explain the chills caused by ‘Put the Virus In You’’s elegiac piano progression? Or the goosebumps behind ‘Sobriety Up and Left’ with Thorben Seiero Jensen’s lyrical stand-still “I heard you called but I was spitting up blood”? These haunting slow-burners not only share the same bolder arrangements that shine on Let This Be the Last Night We Care’s upbeat tracks, but also a genuine passion that energizes the record as a whole. Without doubt, these are heart-on-sleeve songs, heated and longing, but performed with such convincing gusto, Alcoholic Faith Mission turn a pity-party into a breathtaking, combustible listening experience.

There remain a few worthwhile Broken Social Scene comparative points, namely in Alcoholic Faith Mission’s buoyant yet layered instrumentation, but Let This Be the Last Night We Care capitalizes on a few hard-earned, home-made distinctions. Over the course of three and a half minutes, ‘Season Me Right’ morphs from the comforting folk of their last record into a forward-thinking exercise of tuneful dissonance. And words can hardly express the wall-to-wall beauty of ‘Honeydrip’, a late album highlight that showcases the band’s trademarked group-chorus - all voices clamouring together without overpowering one another - while pushing their songwriting to new heights. Explosive and wistful, Let This Be the Last Night We Care somehow begs to be blasted from the stereo as frequently as it deserves careful headphone attention. Year-end lists, get ready!

Blanket of Ash - Jatun

Blanket of Ash

Jatun
Other Electricities Records.

SCQ Rating: 67%

There’s a lovely lack of complication swirling at the heart of ‘Blanket of Ash’, the title track which leads Jatun’s sophomore release. Anchored by a melancholic piano line, the opener finds the duo of Alan Grosvenor and Scott Worley imbedding their elegy with equal doses of digitally-muffled vocals and fuzzy glitches; each managing to heighten the song’s inherent drama. Imagine mixing the bravado of M83 with the bluster of Jesu’s electronic period, and you’re pretty close to the relentless peaks Jatun seeks out. Impressive as that first track sounds, the record seems intent on matching that force (and fuzz) with each subsequent song, ultimately reducing Blanket of Ash’s peaks to a plateau of overstatement.

So while Jatun’s charmingly uncomplicated template can wear thin - take, for example, ‘Circuit Eater’, where you can hardly discern a melody or vocal from the claustrophobic mix – Blanket of Ash still offers some serious silver-lining. ‘Overhead the Air Waves’ not only ushers in on some rare restraint, it builds into an addictive synth progression that, although supplemented by a bunch of auxillery keys, never loses focus on its primary, clear objective. With beats deviating between locked-in synergy and sudden abandon, ‘Overhead The Airwaves’ feels like the record’s customary five-minute length, not eight and a half! Similar longform surprises come from ‘The Thin’, a ten-minute closer that allocates enough room to catch its breathe between bouts of moody drones and tight, rhythmic detonations. In these lengthier pieces, Jatun’s compressed climaxes have the chance to create compositional archways and catch listeners offguard, whereas the duo’s shorter tracks race to a song’s crest and ride it indefinitely. Grosvenor and Worley have mastered a muscled approach to songwriting that aims for the throat and, while it speaks to the noisy over-emotive side of my headphones, their ability to thrill rests on complicating – at least a tiny bit – their powerhouse yet predictable template.

Nitetime Rainbows EP - A Sunny Day In Glasgow

Nitetime Rainbows

A Sunny Day In Glasgow
Mis Ojos Discos Records.

SCQ Rating: 73%

If there’s one record I feel could’ve made significant waves on my year-end lists last year, it’s Ashes Grammar, an album I sought to pick up several times last fall but managed to slip from my memory each time I walked into a record store. Since catching its cover on several high-profile Best Albums… lists in December, I’ve again somehow forgotten to seek it out so clearly I needed a greater incentive. Skeleton Crew Quarterly, look no further than Nitetime Rainbows, an EP’s worth of additional and reworked tracks that share its parent-albums love of twisted pop psychedlia. Catching up to these Philly-based musicians a few months after the completion of Ashes Grammar, Ben Daniels – on an unexpected break from employment - began dusting off these shelved songs and toying around with bandmembers Annie Fredrickson and Josh Meakim. Although the results of this labour-of-love may resemble what some of us remember as a Maxi-Single (since the title track was a popular choice on Ashes Grammar), Nitetime Rainbows EP is a shapeshifting addendum that celebrates new material with recent remixes.

As far as that title track goes: once you’ve heard ‘Nitetime Rainbows’, you’ll join me in seeking out A Sunny Day In Glasgow’s 2009 full-length. It’s that ear-pleasing. And what first explores the notion that this EP is more than leftovers is how its dreamy dance rhythms melt effortlessly into the hazy yet immediate new song ‘Daytime Rainbows’, a layered yet garage-y piece of pop confection. ‘So Bloody, So Tight’ finds the trio settling into wall-of-sound grooves and a building trance-like urgency so nuanced, it can’t help but make a fine centerpiece. After the hazy experimental collage of ‘Piano Lessons’, A Sunny Day In Glasgow collect some varied takes of their lead song, with each remixer steering ‘Nitetime Rainbows’ in a different direction. The Buddy System remix emphasizes the single’s electronic sheen while Kranky artist Benoit Pioulard and Ezekiel Honig take drone-inspired directions. A sweet, summery EP that clocks a generous thirty-minutes, Nitetime Rainbows is that last push I needed to realize A Sunny Day In Glasgow can’t be ignored or put off any longer.

Embers From the Underground #1: Aarktica

Hello, readers! What you've stumbled upon here is the working title for a new interview segment on SCQ called Embers From the Underground, which will focus on a particular artist/band and their latest release. Organized as an Interview/Review piece, EFTU (yah, I'm abbreviating it already) will traditionally kick off with a brief Q&A with the artist, followed by SCQ's review of the album. So long as interesting records and generous artists continue to exist, I'm hoping to publish new content on this series every other month or so.

The first guest, I'm proud to announce, is Aarktica (AKA Jon DeRosa) who recently followed his return-to-form album In Sea with a completist's dream of a remix record. Last week, DeRosa gave some time for SCQ's queries and discussed the making of In Sea Remixes (reviewed below):

SCQ: In December, you described the recording of In Sea as "manning up, getting my shit together and making the fucking record I should've made eight years ago". What does that album represent for you personally, and in terms of your discography?

Jon DeRosa: Since it came out in 2000, I had always kind of regarded No Solace In Sleep as the best thing I was capable of making. I mean, it wasn't that I felt it was genius compositionally or anything. But it was important because it was a personal statement about how my life and world changed when I lost my hearing. It was largely improvised and recorded primitively. But the fidelity of the recording, the process in which it was made, and the way all the elements worked together resulted in what I feel is a very intimate record. I never felt I could top that sound, and honestly I never wanted to go to the dark place again that spawned it in the first place.

So for the next decade, I flirted with that sound, or incorporated it into my work in different ways, but never dared to attempt a stylistic sequel to that first album. Part of it was just simply evolving as a musician and trying new things, like writing more anthematic and atmospheric pop songs. And part of it was probably a fear of failure. Then while I was living in California around the time Matchless Years came out in 2007, I found myself kind of back in that isolated place. I wrote the first demos for "Young Light" and "Hollow Earth Theory" there. When I came back to Brooklyn in 2008, I wrote the rest of the album.

It felt good to be able to reconnect with that person I was over a decade ago through making In Sea. I've changed a lot since then (I was only 19 when I wrote NSIS), so it was somewhat cathartic and nostalgic for me. During its recording, I realized it really didn't matter if the end result was "better" or "worse" than NSIS. The important part for me was the process and the resurrection of the original spirit of Aarktica.

SCQ: How did the idea for a remix album focused on In Sea originate and branch out?

Jon DeRosa: Part of it was my own experiment to see if it was still possible to pull a compilation together like Brian John Mitchell of Silber Records (and I, to some degree) did back in the late-90's. Another part of it was conversations I had with individual artists who expressed an interest in doing remixes. More than anything, I think it was an attempt to reconnect with friends and fellow musicians after having fallen off the map for a little while. The year after I returned from California was spent largely in survival mode and music took a backseat to real life for a while.

And again, it was the process of doing something, making something special and reconnecting. I didn't feel the pressure of making sales numbers since I funded it all on my own. Luckily, the interest was such that it made it financially worthwhile to do. And it marked the first time since I was in high school where I planned a release, saw it through to manufacturing, dealt with the art/packaging and actually stuffed the CDs into mylar sleeves all on my own.

SCQ: Considering how much of yourself you put into In Sea, was it difficult offering other artists this material to be spliced and transformed as they saw fit?

Jon DeRosa: Not at all really. I mean, no one really considers the loneliness of a solo project. You pour a lot of yourself into the writing and the recording of the album. You make this work that's obviously very important to you, largely in isolation. And then the record is released and you hold it in your hands, and there's no real celebration because there's no one to share it with. Not like a band, where you go out for drinks and you can sort of all look back on the process and laugh about it. There's no listening party because this is definitely not party music, obviously. So simply to have so many artists I respect give their time and inject their spirits into something that I created is something I feel very humbled by and grateful for.

The most difficult part was having to leave off some tracks due to time constraints, as there were no weak submissions. Hopefully some of those will be made more available in the future and include contributions by Rivulets, Dynasty and PD Wilder, among others.

SCQ: In Sea had a very cool, almost sterile, feel which rendered it an excellent winter release. With Planar's remix of 'Young Light' and Summer Cats' remix of 'Hollow Earth Theory' as two of many examples, In Sea Remixes has the pulse of a spring companion. Were there any overarching intentions or objectives between artists for it to gel this way?

Jon DeRosa: It wasn't really something I thought about going into it, but I did ask artists to make the tracks their own. I told everyone to please add elements and don't be too sensitive to the original. But, yes, I think the Remix album spans the seasonal gamut for sure. I love that Keith Canisius turned "Autumnal" into a super summery dance track, while Thisquietarmy took "Corpse Reviver No. 2" even farther into the icy sonic depths.

SCQ: With all due credit to these talented remixers, are you excited by how well your sound adapts and flexes in new sonic environments? Have any of these particular takes opened new avenues you might wish to explore on future endeavors?

Jon DeRosa: It definitely got my mindset more in the direction of collaborations in the near future. I realized that while I have tried many different sounds and styles in the past, I'm better at some things than others. So I'd to like to take the things I'm best at and work with others in new contexts, hopefully resulting in some stellar new sounds in the years to come.

In Sea Remixes - Aarktica

In Sea Remixes

Aarktica
Silber Records.

SCQ Rating: 79%

Discovering In Sea on the cusp of winter paid some enormous dividends. Like an ode to the silence and stillness that snow brings, Jon DeRosa's latest full-length will always fit my early November memory of wandering Chinatown at 1AM; its careful drones and webs of guitar grimacing between buildings and sprinkling a first frost. What could’ve scored mountainous treks or, I don’t know, collapsing icebergs, ended up soundtracking my walk through concrete grays, which would seem like a waste if In Sea’s mood – graceful yet downtrodden – didn’t compel such honest surroundings. Those who, like me, basked in Aarktica’s cross-breezes of emotional numbness have unintentionally reaped another bonus: the eventual thaw.

A topic of discussion since the release of its parent record, In Sea Remixes collects a new take on each album track plus an appendix of ‘Am I Demon’ remixes initially plotted for a separate EP release. With a slew of talented contributors (among them Rameses III, Yellow6, and The Declining Winter), In Sea Remixes also boasts surprises uncommon of its recycled blueprint. Namely, this collection defies my usual disinterest in remixes. Whereas most remix compilations uproot sequencing and mood in favour of track-privatization (in other words, the act of artists covering their own asses, final product be damned), In Sea Remixes flows like the original record if Aarktica had been inspired by IDM and electronic pop. That spray of optimistic beams first borne on ‘Young Light’ gets vocals and a hazy makeover courtesy of Planar while Mason Jones reworks the title track with crisp post-rock percussion that compliments DeRosa’s echo-drenched guitars. If those aforementioned remixes successfully incorporate cousin-genres to In Sea’s rippling drones, Keith Canisius’ take on ‘Autumnal’ gets downright ballsy, crafting a subtle dance-beat with pitch-shifted, cut-up vocals. It’s a loose translation of the original but also one of the record’s top tracks. The greatest of these many revelations is that In Sea Remixes, despite its variety, flows like a more vivid, spontaneous companion, one which praises its source material while evoking the sounds of spring. From the melting tones of ‘LYMZ’ (by Slicnaton) and chirping birds of ‘Hollow Earth Theory’ (by Summer Cats) to the laptop beats and warm piano of ‘Onward!’ (by Yellow6), these remixes celebrate an end of hibernation, not to mention the begging question of where Jon DeRosa plans to go next.

At the risk of setting a precedent, it’s worth noting that not everything here comes up roses. James Duncan's remix of ‘When We're Ghosts’ is likely the most adventurous, what with its club-ready beats and random “fuck you!” snippets, but it nearly makes a late-bid to deride what is, for the most part, an exception to the Remix-Album-Rule. In these rare instances of lost focus, it’s the heavier contributions – deep drones by ThisQuietArmy and collaged chaos by Al Qaeda - that rope the release back on par with Aarktica’s densely shaped moods. And remaining true to the feel of In Sea isn’t so hard when DeRosa’s performances still sizzle beneath each of these renditions. A remix album that stands by its inspiration while reaching in several fruitful directions? I could get used to this.

Shady Retreat - Peasant

Shady Retreat

Peasant
Paper Garden Records.

SCQ Rating: 73%

Sleeper hits tend to forecast blockbusters. You know, how Alligator built steady steam over two years before the release of Boxer made the National stars, how Greetings From Michigan paved the way for Sufjan Stevens’ Illinoise, etc. The list goes on and my sole theory behind this trend boils down to how success, however gradual or marginalized, brings out an artist's confidence. As such, blockbusters are often celebrated as being nervier or grandiose due to said album’s ability to focus on the artist's proven strengths as a songwriter, vocalist or arranger. On The Ground moved units and sounded like a sleeper hit; Damien DeRose's aching voice caressing a nerve still sensitive six years after Elliott Smith's death, yet the authenticity of his songs disarmed us of our cynacism.

With Shady Retreat, I admit I expected a blockbuster. Building from On The Ground's "you+me" focused songwriting and supplemented by the increasingly predictable context of an album created in backwoods isolation, Shady Retreat could've continued DeRose's songwriting growth while muscling up on his arrangements. Instead of letting his cabin-based locale motivate these songs toward a striving objective, they instead excuse Shady Retreat's power-outage minimalism. Clocking a mere twenty-eight minutes, Peasant's follow-up is a creaking folk record so direct, you might wish he'd at least meandered a bit. Even amid the record’s sloppier moments, as on the ho-hum waiting game of ‘Prescriptions’, DeRose's voice bridges any creative divide. Where would 'The Woods' be without that chorus of multi-tracked harmonies which provide his setting with much-needed shadows? How convincing would ‘Hard Times’ be without DeRose’s timbre bloodletting everywhere? His intuition as a vocalist may salvage much of this material but it doesn’t distract from how off-the-cuff Shady Retreat can feel. The final moments of ‘Slow Down’ spotlight a breakdown so half-hearted that I’d swear he tried to adlib the last lyrics. In effect, the song splinters into straws. In these seldom moments, DeRose sounds like he’s coasting… and when his album is under half an hour, seldom is too often.

All expectations aside, let the blockbuster be damned! By no means is this album a letdown because DeRose didn't give us a dramatic showstopper, although some signs of ambition would've been comforting. Had Peasant locked onto the ramshackle appeal of 'Slow Down' or 'Well Alright', Shady Retreat would've at least earned a well-rounded identity as a 70s songwriter record that enunciates classic Neil Young dissonance. Or had he stuck with the tried-and-true polish of On The Ground, which slicks sporadically over ‘Pry’ or the rollicking ‘Thinking’, he could've met some held-over expectations and maintained the status quo. At its best, Shady Retreat provides different angles into DeRose’s songbird genius, via the pillowed punch of ‘Tough’ or ‘The End’. Like any retreat, Peasant’s latest will satiate what heals you but ultimately feels a little malnourished.