|
|
our brief reviews of new releases
27 November 2006
 This double-album by Logistics is logical if you enjoy dance, ambient, or drum and bass music. The first disc begins with the high-octane, jungle-ish “Beatbox Master”, bringing to mind Chemical Brothers meets Fatboy Slim, while “Call Me Back” continues down this road, albeit with a little less pizzazz and splash. An above average “Everything Is Illuminated” is diminished by the ordinary “Machine”, which is indeed rather mechanical or jungle-by-numbers. Generally, the first disc is quite good, going by the intense but catchy “Follow That Star” and the intricate “Winter Blues”, which resembles something out of Leftfield. A nice surprise is the less intense, dreamy “Haunted By Her Yesterdays”. Disc two is much like disc one (go figure!), with the dance-y, spacey “Welcome to the Future” kicking things off. Yet things get a bit haywire with the busy and often messy “The Divide”. For the most part, Logistics comes through without any hassle during “Time to Give It Up” and the groovy “Release the Pressure”. Other highlights include the lighter, airy “Depth Charge” and “Red Sky at Night”.
[Amazon ]
—Jason MacNeil 12:00 am
| Permalink
22 November 2006
 Six songs, 15 minutes, and that’s that for the debut effort of Toronto’s Born Ruffians. These three young Canadians bounce around with some of the energy of Be Your Own Pet, but possess more artfulness. Veering the way of sunny pop accompaniments and simple chord progressions rather than overdriven, raw punk energy, the band finds a vein of catchy melody and wraps it in an indie cloak worthy of Isaac Brock. “I’m all about simplicity,” Luke Lalonde declares on “This Sentence Will Ruin/Save Your Life”, and the spirit pervades this EP. But the band is willing to take risks, and the risks pay off: the opening track ends so suddenly it’ll make you jump, and the staggering delivery of “Hedonistic Me” is really effective. Lalonde’s voice is high and whiny; on first, unseen listen, it even resembles Patience Hodgson of the Grates. They don’t always get it right, as on the whine-gospel of “7th Son”; but the accumulated goodwill more or less overrides the slip-up. However, Born Ruffians’ big appeal, and their big limitation, is their youth. Lalonde needs to mature as a singer, lose the sense of a band doing an impression (it doesn’t quite come off; on “Piecing It Together”, the band sounds like Figurines sounding like Modest Mouse). Sitting somewhere between a high school band and the Arctic Monkeys, Born Ruffians may have a bright future—if they can keep this eclectic, punk-tinged melody and smooth away some of the inexperience.
[Amazon]
—Dan Raper 8:03 am
| Permalink
22 November 2006
Born Ruffians, Born Ruffians (Warp)Warp Records continue to dip their toes into decidedly un-electronic waters, with their latest signing, Born Ruffians. Hailing from Toronto, this trio unleash short, crisp pop songs and their debut, six-song EP, clocking in at an efficient 15 minutes, buzzes with a nervous, twitchy energy. Your enjoyment of the disc may depend on if you can tolerate singer Luke Lalonde’s nasally pre-pubescent squeal. Personally, even at a quarter of an hour, I find it to be a bit much, but luckily the songs themselves are buoyant enough that a less discerning listener will find much to enjoy. The clean guitars, straight ahead production, and self-effacing attitude point to a Modern Lovers/Jonathan Richman influence tempered with a hint of grandeur. The lyrics point to the typical, “aw shucks” of shy, insecure nerds everywhere, longing for girls to go out with them. The kind that girls love to fall in love with and dress them up with new clothes. It’s all very cute and inoffensive, but it remains to be seen if the band can hold up this routine without it getting nauseous when stretched out to a full-length release. But why worry about that now? Born Ruffians are here, they want to party, and they kinda, sorta, wanna party with you (if that would be ok). So if you got a quarter of an hour, you could do worse than to give ‘em a chance.
[Amazon]
—Kevin Jagernauth 8:02 am
| Permalink
22 November 2006
Eric Chenaux, Dull Lights (Constellation)Imagine Eric Chenaux sitting in his rocking chair on the last back-porch on planet Earth, plucking at his banjo and crooning to the moon, full of sweet regret and wistful sighs of resignation, as—over on the horizon—the whole sordid shithouse of Western civilisation goes up in flames. That’s the vibe of Dull Lights, an enchanting yet somehow unsettling collection of ragged banjo scrabblings, country drone-folk, and fishermen’s tales. There’s something unmistakably valedictory about these laments, with Chenaux’s quiet, intimate voicings and just out-of-reach lyrics tinged with a sad-eyed longing—made all the more fragile and helpless by the loose, fractured improv stylings of the accompaniment: pointillist banjo plucks, sighing brush-on-cymbal work, Highland bagpipe dirges for electric guitar, and liquid pedal steel running between your fingers. When the bombs start falling and the hordes are at your door, don’t waste your time hiding or putting up a fight—just slip into that old lumberjack shirt, crack open the bourbon, and put this disc on. Desolation never tasted so sweet.
[Amazon]
—Daniel Spicer 8:01 am
| Permalink
22 November 2006
 New London Fire get down to brass and synthesized tacks on the poppy “Different”, which sounds like a cross between the Killers’ lighter side and Keane. And it’s this blend of electro rhythms and pop sensibilities that makes the Depeche Mode-influenced “When I Try” and the bass-led title track so darn attractive. When they up the tempo slightly, as they do during the tight, catchy “Someone Like You”, it brings to mind early Robert Palmer revamped for today. And it’s probably the album’s highlight thus far. Just as solid and highbrow is the slightly angular “To Breathe”. Perhaps they perfect this style too well too often, because while “We Don’t Bleed” is fine, it doesn’t quite pack the same oomph or sizzle as earlier ditties. Nor does the sullen, somber “Nadine” shine. In fact, it could have come out of the Simon & Garfunkel songbook. The lean and edgy “You Will Disappear” gets the album back on track, while the closing “Somewhere in Between” resembles an Oasis b-side or a great Embrace cover.
[Amazon]
—Jason MacNeil 8:00 am
| Permalink
22 November 2006
 On their final album, the duo of Parker & Lily recorded a ballad called “The Low Lows”, all shivery keyboards, barely breathed, slumberous vocals and eerie brushes of cymbals. The song—and the CD which bore its name—commemorated the romantic break-up of Parker Noon and Lily Wolfe, and, one assumed, the end of their making music together. Not so, however, as the pair have now reformed as The Low Lows, taking their unusual brand of moody, haunted lo-fi music to new levels of accomplishment. Fire on the Bright Sky is a gorgeous, tapestry of chill-inducing vocals, subtle guitar strums and ominous Farfisa trills, just a hint of country embedded in it with pedal steel. The CD is built from the same elements as Beach House’s recent debut—heavily reverbed singing, keyboards and unearthly guitar work—yet it feels far darker and more glamorous. Spiders are eating flies and wolves are eating dogs, love is doomed and nights go on forever here. There’s an unhealthy, up-too-long gleam in everyone’s eyes. Still by the end, “No Such Thing as Sara Jane” shuffles triumphantly, almost joyfully forward, embellished by brass, and “The Russian Ending”, builds from talk-sung reveries to dizzying, fever-pitch swells. As so often in life, the Low Lows lead inevitably to the high highs, a maelstrom of intense drama, beauty and mood emerging out of darkness.
[Amazon]
—Jennifer Kelly 3:00 am
| Permalink
22 November 2006
MXPX titles its new CD simply Let’s Rock. But a rocking MXPX is nothing new. After all, this Washington band was pop-punk back before pop-punk was cool. “Last Train” and “Sweet Sweet Thing”, two acoustic tracks, contradict the table of contents. Furthermore, “Don’t Forget Me (When You’re Gone)” is nothing more than a big rock ballad, albeit amplified. Whenever vocalist Mike Herrera gets all soft over unplugged guitars, MXPX sounds like Green Day’s little brother. Lyrically, Herrera is much better at singing his own life, as on “You Walk, I Run”, than getting political, exemplified by a global little number called “1 and 3”. He should leave new world disorder commentary to Billie Joe Armstrong. But when he shouts “Affluenza, affluenza” to protest First World materialism, he absolutely rocks.
[Amazon]
—Dan MacIntosh 12:00 am
| Permalink
21 November 2006
 Chicago’s Third Wheel was founded by two life-long friends, Jeremy Babcock and Shawn Schlag, who’ve been performing under that moniker for over a decade. Their sound is uptempo heartland folk-rock filled with close harmonies: think Wilco’s A.M. covered by Simon and Garfunkel as produced by the Innocence Mission’s Don Peris. On Account of the Atmosphere, their second record, is a wonderful showcase for Babcock’s charming, genial songs. The emphasis is on jangling guitar and warm vocal interplay on songs like “Compass” and the rollicking “All Your Prayers Are Alive!”, the latter benefiting from the added texture of trumpet, courtesy of Jason McInnes. By and large, Atmosphere is an album of uplift, rare in an age of creeping cynicism. Even on the standout “Weathermap”, which provides a litany of life-threatening scenarios (including the playful couplet “Goldfish floating on a stormy sea / Alligator choking violently on me"), salvation reveals itself in the form of a lover who is “the only weathermap” the protagonist needs. With stylophones pinging and the rhythm section bouncing along, there’s a positive outlook that lasts throughout the rest of the album, even in its most somber and crestfallen moments.
[Amazon]
—Michael Metivier 8:05 am
| Permalink
|
|
Multiple songs Streaming
