THE HOLD STEADY - Heaven is Whenever (Vagrant Records)

When news broke that keyboardist Franz Nicolay would be leaving The Hold Steady earlier this year it came as a kind of a shock. If you have ever seen the band play live, you would know that Nicolay was more than just a keyboardist, he was that extra flourish that made The Hold Steady more than just another indie rock band. His celebratory keyboards and harmony "whoaaa"s added an oomph to the band's songs that pushed already great rock songs into summer anthem territory. Plus he just seemed like he was having so much fun up there on stage.

It was less of a surprise when lead man Craig Finn announced shortly thereafter that their new album would be "less anthemic." Hey Craig, you don't really need a weatherman to tell which way the wind is blowing here, but thanks anyway. As if to prove that point, the band leads off "Heaven is Whenever" with "The Sweet Part of the City," a mid-tempo southern blues burner. Unlike "Stay Positive," which led with the blistering "Constructive Summer" or "Boys and Girls in America," which led with the fist pumping "Stuck Between Stations," the band seems to be making a point that yes, indeed, this is going to be something different from those albums. Also of note is the return of producer Dean Baltulonis to the fold. Baltulonis produced the band's "Almost Killed Me," and "Separation Sunday," albums which notably sound better suited for dive bars, rather than the massive architecture of "Boys and Girls" and "Stay Positive."

Of course you can't keep a boy down on the farm once he has seen the city, and the band does return to those "whoohoohoo" anthems at choice moments throughout the album. "The Weekenders" would sound comfortably at home on "Boys and Girls" thematically and musically. But for the most part the band does strip things down here. It's still the Hold Steady, but they sound less expansive, more back to the basics. That isn't necessarily a bad thing, these guys are, after all, the best bar band in the world, and songs like "Hurrican J" and "The Smidge" ARE going to sound pretty damn good coming through the speakers after that second drink.

Thematically the album isn't as consistent as the storybook "Separation Sunday" or "Boys and Girls," but all the similar obsessions are there; Catholicism, alcoholism, flirtations with drug abuse by good girls going bad, and the bad boys who are going to take them there. Of note is Finn's undying dedication to the music that influenced him, and inform the sound of The Hold Steady. "Stay Positive" contained Finn's most blatant peons to music with the title track and "Constructive Summer," whose melody and name owed much to "Celebrated Summer" by Husker Du, and contained a memorable verse about St. Joe Strummer. Title track "Stay Positive," was a rousing celebration of the independent music scene; a sort of grand unifying anthem for all the desperate genres that fall under the umbrella of indie rock. On "Heaven is Whenever," Finn incorporates the album title into the moving chorus of the gorgeous "We Can Get Together" to again acknowledge the transformative power of music. "Heaven is whenever we can get together, sit down on your floor and listen to your records," Finn croons. The song name drops Husker Du specifically, but gives a nod to musicians as diverse as Pavement and Meatloaf. It's a reminder that Finn is like us, regular guys and girls who live for music and aren't afraid to admit that a band like Boston may have informed our tastes just as much as The Clash did. It's also the secret of The Hold Steady's appeal. These guys aren't trust fund Williamsburg hipsters, they are regular guys who grew up like many of us with middle-class Midwestern roots. They are the home team. They like the same things that we do, they look at the world pretty much the same way we do, they just happen to be able to pull off what so many of us wanted to do, but never did - make killer rock songs. The glory is that they have done that so well that eventually someone will be singing their praises the way they do Husker Du and Youth of Today. It's enough to bring a tear to the eye of an indie rock fan.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention a couple of other great tracks from "Heaven is Whenever." "Barely Breathing" captures the band in a killer groove, boosted by some great horn and organ work. About a punk rock show from back in the day, Finn drops some of his most hyper-literate lyrics on the album, making for a fully formed and satisfying Hold Steady jam. Album closer "A Slight Discomfort," is also pretty spectacular. The song finds the band returning to the more expansive sound of "Stay Positive," with a reverb heavy dirge about surviving a hard-lived life. "Well be alright, well get through the night, our struggle feels wonderful most days," Finn sings. Once the stately piece comes to a close, its clear that indeed The Hold Steady is going to be alright, even after loss and change. With "Heaven is Whenever," the band has crafted another album full of great songs. While there might be a slight change in the program, it's still those lovable, thoughtful, regular guys living the rock and roll dream, making songs about us, and for us.

"Hurricane J" live


"The Weekenders" live


"We Can Get Together" live

BARONESS - Blue Record

This Friday at the Vogue, two of modern metal's most highly regarded acts, Mastodon and Baroness will take the stage producing some serious headbanging face melting goodness. By now, even the most non-metal indie rocker should know the name of the much Pitchfork-lauded Mastodon. If for some reason you have been living in a cave for the last six years, here is an entire Youtube channel dedicated to these modern metal legends...


But I am here to talk about opening act Baroness. Two albums into their career, and already Baroness have produced a metal classic. Last year's "Blue Record," was not only one of the best metal albums of the year, it was one of the best albums of the year period.

Initially, Baroness were kind of a stoner rock band that attempted to expand their horizons by including some disparate ingredients into their homemade brew of sludge from time to time. While the results were sometimes nourishing, it was always just a tad underdone. Well, between their debut and "Blue Record," the boys picked up cooking lessons somewhere, because they are suddenly experimenting with all sorts of different ingredients here - pop, prog, even a little disco beat ("O'er Hell and Hide") - and cooking it to perfection to make one of the tastiest stews of last year. It is still pretty thick and you need to eat it with a fork, but damn if it doesn't taste like upscale cuisine with all sorts of overtones and undertones to keep you coming back for more.

Okay, ridiculous cooking analogy aside, this album slays, even with all the overtones and undertones. Drawing on elements from southern rock, thrash, power pop, psychedelia and prog, the band's kitchen sink approach is entirely in the service of a seamlessly consistent kick-ass whole. Before you make a very bad life choice by missing this band, come down to the store, pick up "Blue Record," and any Mastodon that you still need, and then get thee to the Vogue Friday night for this metal dream ticket.

Some live Baroness to whet your appetite...

WOUNDED LION - Wounded Lion (In The Red)

Let's be honest, currently there is an over abundance of jangly retro garage/punk acts, making it harder and harder to separate the wheat from the chaff. Every week labels like In the Red, Not Not Fun, Woodsist, Captured Tracks and, now, even Sub Pop are churning out some new garage rock revivalist. Just as with any scene or musical movement, it is kind of hard not to feel burnt out and cynical once the saturation point has been reached; which was easily early last year for this stuff.

The one good thing that punk infused garage has going for it, over other genres who tire out quickly (looking at you chillwave), is that it is pretty darn timeless. There really is no more pristine form of rock than three or four folks plugged into amps, bashing out ramshackled melodies over sloppy distortion and feedback. This is, after all, what rock and roll is all about. Still, though, bashing out a bunch of noise and drowning it in lo-fi production does not a great rock act make. So what does these days? What would it take to stand out from the absurdly crowded field of wanna-be Nuggets worthy bands? Well, it takes hooks, it takes melody, it takes volume and most importantly the ability to make the listener smile from ear to ear while tapping their foot or thrashing around. In other words, it's got to be goddamned fun.

Thankfully for Wounded Lion, fun is their middle name, and they know how to throw in some hooks and melody to boot. Hailing from L.A., and having put in their time at the Smell, Wounded Lion sound fresh even in the wake of so many other retro-damaged garage acts before them. Part of what sets them apart is a difference in influences. Wounded Lion sound less like the Ramones drowned in Guided By Voices production, than they do early Talking Heads, The Clean, Modern Lovers and even the Cramps. Yet, even if their sound is a tad cleaner than the contemporaries, their spirit is just as down and dirty, if not more so. There is a quality to these songs that demands that you hear them played out in some sweaty club where the drinks flow freely and all your friends are there.

Songs like the absurdly infectious "Dagoba System," "Omar Walk" and "Black Socks" kind of make you want to pogo, even if you end up spilling beer all over the place. Other songs, like "Hanging In Ancient Circles" swing like hell while spotlighting a more cerebral side to the band, similar to S & E-era Pavement. Then there are just straight up nuggets of pop perfection like "Belt of Orion." Taken as a whole, Wounded Lion's debut is a heady, spirited and, most importantly, goddamned fun take on garage pop. It's been a while since I put on an album by a band that I knew nothing about only to find myself shaking my head and muttering "this is really great" by the time it was over, but that is what happened with Wounded Lion. They may be late to the party, but better late than never.

BARN OWL - The Conjuror (Roots Strata) ELM - Nemcatacoa (Digitalis) EVAN CAMINITI - Psychic Mud Shrine (Digitalis)

A steady buzz has been building around San Francisco’s Barn Own since the release of their debut album “From Our Mouths A Perpetual Light.” That album moved the parameters of doom from two guys with a shit load of tube amps to gentle, but equally ominous, soundscapes of acoustic guitars and minor drones. The album was more interesting for what it proposed than what it actually delivered.

Since that time, the duo, consisting of Evan Caminiti and Jon Porras, have produced a live album, two solo albums and now their new studio work “The Conjuror.”

“The Conjuror” begins with “Into the Red Horizon,” a piece similar to Earth’s groundbreaking “Hex: Or Printing In The Infernal Method,” maybe too similar. The difference though is that unlike Earth’s Dylan Carlson, who split the difference equally between doom and country twang on “Hex,” Barn Owl have upped the quotient of doom. The next piece, “Across the Deserts of Ashes” eschews the percussive doom of “Horizon” but begins by maintaining some of the rural twang until it is slowly undermined by a menacing and shimmering guitar soundscape. The piece ends with haunting choral-like vocals that recall Popol Vuh and their very best. “Procession of the Bones” finds the band returning to their rural doom, with a few more acoustic flourishes. The album ends with “Ancient of Days.” The piece begins with some beautifully dour Fahey-like acoustic pluckings before descending into a subtle but steady drone. Again, choral-like voices return, but this time they sound like weakened disembodied spirits, calling out from a deep dark hole in the earth. The song ends with piano, providing a resolution to all the doom that has come before that is probably best left to the interpretation of each individual listener. In the end “The Conjuror” makes for an immersive listening experience and one that more than delivers on the promise of the band’s previous work.

“The Conjuror” is only a portion of Caminiti and Porras’ recent productivity. Both Caminiti and Porras have released solo albums this year. Caminiti records under his own name, while Porras under the moniker Elm. Porras’ Elm recently released the “Nemcatacoa.”

“Nemcatacoa” opens with the ominous title track, a song that sounds like Earth interpreted by Loren Mazzacane Connors backed up by Greg Anderson of Sunn 0))). The piece makes it clear that this is doom, but it is doom turned down, gently plodding its way through a cold dark wood, rather than ripping the earth out from under your feet in the vein of Sunn 0))) or Moss. The piece is also a bit of a tease, since what follows through the remainder of the album mostly consists of gentle acoustic finger picking comfortably sitting next to or on top of ominous drones. This formula of acoustic guitar married with drone does threaten the uniqueness of Elm. We have heard this set up before with Ben Chasny’s Six Organs of Admittance and countless imitators. One would even be forgiven for mistaking “Silver Dust in Moonlight,” a piece that flirts with medieval guitar flourishes in the face of an ever increasing threatening drone and eventually breaks into a blistering electric guitar attack as one of Chasny’s. What saves Elm is the amazingly consistent quality of the record. Porra is able to lay down haunting acoustics and incredible drones that stand far above the cluttered crowd left in Chasny’s wake. He may not reinvent the wheel, but Porras’ Elm is immensely compelling. Porras does change his palate for the final two pieces, “Three Rings Drawn in Sand,” an album highlight, and “Deep Mirage,” both begin with Hecker-like waves of sound that continuously build before crashing back down to earth in drops of acoustic tones. Again, it isn’t necessarily unique given the blueprint already created by Hecker and Fennesz, but it is effective and stunningly beautiful.

Broken into four pieces, similar to the structure of “Conjuror” Caminiti’s album, “Psychic Mud Shrine,” is the noisier of the three, and by noise, I don’t mean Wolf Eyes noisy, I mean he plays his electric guitar drones at a louder more discordant level than Porras does and with fewer acoustic interludes. It is also the least varied. The album begins with a jagged piece of guitar squall entitled “Frozen Plains.” The song recalls Neil Young’s infamous “Dead Man” soundtrack, but more fleshed out and realized than Young’s sound-sketches. “Melting Temple/Plumes of Babylon” follows and continues in the vein of “Plains” with a blues inflected guitar drone. The nearly 20 minute piece finds Caminiti switching things up though. The drone gives way to percussive bells and a string accompaniment that recalls Indian violinist Shankar’s work. The piece eventually gives way to the dark acoustic picking that defines both Caminiti and Porras’ work individually and collectively. The third piece “Midnight’s Road” is the most interesting on the album, unfortunately it is the shortest as well. Beginning with a pulsating guitar note that is reminiscent of John Carpenter’s soundtrack for “The Thing,” Caminiti builds layers of acoustic and electric finger picking over a steadily growing drone. The drone eventually overcomes everything else creating the album’s most intense moment just before it completely cuts out. The album ends with “Kclab Egdol” another guitar based drone that builds and builds until the song’s horizon blurs into a single grey field before revisiting Shankar-like strings and acoustic guitar picking over what is left of a shimmering receding drone. Overall Caminiti’s album is the least compelling of the three, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t fascinating and well worth while, it is just that when compared to his work in Barn Owl and Porras’ Elm, it comes up short, but just by a hair. All three albums illustrate that both men, together and separately, are worth at least some of the buzz they have generated and I can only imagine them expanding their sound and making even greater works in the future

Barn Owl live at the 2009 On Land festival




Barn Owl live

The Amazing - The Amazing (Subliminal Sounds)

You know that feeling you get in the middle of a sunny, breezy Sunday when you feel the week to come stretching out toward you? You still have enough of the weekend left to have another beer and stare out at the dust particles reflecting in the sun, but there is a restless voice in the back of your head telling you that eventually you will have to resign yourself to the impending doom of Monday. The Amazing have captured that hazy disquiet on their self titled debut, an album as enjoyable, and conflicted, as any Sunday afternoon.

A sort of Swedish indie/psych supergroup, composed of members of Dungen and Granada, The Amazing play psyche/folk edged with post-Radiohead britpop. Touches of Nick Drake, Parachutes-era Coldplay, early Verve, the aforementioned Radiohead and a healthy dose of Laural Canyon sun-kissed 70s folk inform the band's sound. What sets the band apart is that they play with a confidence that few bands can muster. Although much of their music is mellow, there is nothing lax about their performance. It's hard to recall a band that sounds so tightly focused and relaxed at the same time.

Expansive pieces, like opener "The Kirwan Song," sound effortless, even though just under the song's veneer a psychedelic maelstrom rages. Whereas simple acoustic numbers like "Beach House" bare a spaciousness that imparts an epic and timeless quality to the music. As with most of The Amazing's music, it is what is going on beneath the surface of their slightly melancholic psychpop songs that makes this album such a special piece of work.

Not everything is subtlety and poise though. The band explodes on the incredible "Code II." A blizzard of drums and organs punctuated by doomy guitar riffs dominates the piece until an ascending guitar pattern breaks through the mix taking the song to a whole new level. It's the audial equivalent of storm clouds parting and revealing a rainbow amidst the downpour. In the end it shimmers and shines like those raindrops caught in the Sun's rays.

The Amazing's debut album ends up sounding much grander than a simple side project for the members involved. In some ways it ends up being more enjoyable than either Dungen or Granada's primary works. More spectacularly though, is that it's conceivable that a couple of albums from now The Amazing could stand a shot at joining that long list of influences mentioned earlier. It wouldn't entirely be surprising if a few years from now some reviewer somewhere says 'this bands sounds like The Amazing," when trying to pigeonhole some new psychefolk band that plays hauntingly epic pop songs.

Titus Andronicus - The Monitor (XL Records)

New Jersey's Titus Andronicus' debut album "The Airing of Grievances" was the best bit of ramshackle, heart on the sleeve, basement-punk since the Replacement's "Tim." Mixing the righteous fire of the Clash, the loser piss-drunk heartland noise of the 'Mats and a dash of Celtic punk ala the Pogues, Titus Andronicus threatened to be one of those bands that really matters. So expectations are fairly high for "The Monitor," the band's sophomore followup.

Musicians typically do one of three things on their sophomore release; a) deliver more of the same, b) expand their sound every so slightly without upsetting their basic template, or c) overambitiously veer off into a new direction entirely. For their sophomore record, Titus Andronicus choose a little bit from column b and a lot from column c.

The album kicks off with "A More Perfect Union," which boasts the line "tramps like us, baby we were born to die." Lead singer Patrick Stickles' invocation of the Boss is more than a little prescient, since the fellow Jerseyite's influence runs throughout "The Monitor" as much, or more so, than any other. Later in the album Stickles declares "I'm destroying everything that wouldn't make me more like Bruce Springsteen." Unfortunately, epic "Thunder Road"-sized songs are not really what these guys do best. That doesn't stymie the band's ambition. Hell, even the album title is ambitious. Named after the USS Monitor, the U.S. Navy's first ironclad warship used by the Union during the Civil War, the album is inspired by that conflict and the ongoing unrest in the United States ever since. The band throws in quotes from Abraham Lincoln, Jefferson Davis and Walt Whitman throughout the album to further the point. Stickles has explained their raison d'être as such:

"it is a record about how the conflicts that led our nation into that great calamity remain unresolved, and the effect that this ongoing division has on our personal relationships and our behavior and how they’re all out to get us (or maybe not?) and yadda yadda yadda.”

The dismissiveness at the end of that statement reflects the dichotomy of Titus Andronicus; one minute they are earnestly attempting to understand, and decry, the injustice of the world they live in, and the next they are throwing up their arms, screaming 'fuck it!' That vacillation is part of what makes the band so enjoyable. They aren't trendfucking hipsters who are too cool to be unironic, nor are they overly earnest self-righteous sourpusses. The problem with "The Monitor," though, is that musically that vacillation just isn't half as interesting or fun as you want it to be.

The band burns through the first four tracks without blinking an eye and it sounds as if they are on course for another winner of a record. Eric Harm's drums bash and pound with proper aplomb, guitarists Stickles and David Robbins throw off memorable guitar licks right and left, while Ian Graetzer's pulsating bass gives the band a strong core from which to fight. Battle cries like "The enemy is everywhere!" and "You will always be a loser!" define the songs and demand to be screamed joyfully at the top of the lungs. The band's golden run culminates with "Richard II," the best song on the album. The song is a punk rock Celtic ho-down as good, or maybe even better, than the best Pogues song. It's a militant revenge fantasy that finds Stickles declaring "There's only one dream that I keep close, and it's the one of my hand at your throat," and only seconds later claiming "I will not deny my humanity, I'll be rolling in it like a pig in feces." Dichotomy? Yes, but one that is easily understood by anyone who grew up listening to the Clash, or ever wore a Che Guevara t-shirt and meant it.

As the album proceeds, those epic "Thunder Road"-sized songs start piling up. The problem is that, with the exception of the amazing "Four Score and Seven," the songs just aren't that memorable. The nearly nine-minute "A Pot In Which To Piss," has moments of real brilliance, and certainly the final minutes of the song are some of the finest on the album, but no matter how many times I listen to it, I just can't really remember much about it once it ends. "Theme from "Cheers" is a celebration of drinking and loserdom that suffers from sounding a little too much like a generic barroom anthem. "To Old Friends and New," a duet with Jenn Wassner of Wye Oakis, continues the band's quest for blackout drunk with an attempt to fashion a closing time hymn. It is as slow and deliberate as a drunk's steps toward the couch at the end of the night. While it isn't a bad song, it just kind of brings the party way down, and again does nothing to differentiate itself from similarly situated songs. The album ends with "The Battle of Hampton Roads," a fourteen-minute epic that sounds like an old Bright Eyes outtake, but only reminds you that back in the day Connor Oberst did this kind of thing a lot better. Stickles' lyrics are properly indignant and self-loathing enough, but again the music just sounds like a generic epic rock anthem.

The lone exception, as noted before, is "Four Score and Seven," here the band takes that epic-song template and loads it full of moments of real inspiration. Beginning with strummed guitars, mournful fiddle and harmonica, the song builds to a gorgeous fanfare of horns and percussion before the band explodes at the halfway point with another punk-inspired war cry that would make Joe Strummer proud of his children. The song proves that the band has it in them to write nine-minute epics, but its shining brilliance only underscores the drab blandness of every other lengthy track here.

In the end, "The Monitor" is a picture of Titus Andronicus shooting for the moon and coming up just a little too short. One can't write off the album as sophomore slump, in fact the problem is just the opposite - too many ideas, too much ambition. As a result the album's second half is just kind of a mess, and not the ramshackle mess that one hopes for from a band that was so clearly poised to take up the mantle of the Replacements circa "Let It Be" and "Tim." Oddly enough, because of its flashes of genius and excellent first half, "The Monitor" will make the listener anxious for more from Titus Andronicus. These guys clearly have what it takes to be at the top of the indie world in them, and one can't fault them from thinking big, but they also need to play to their strengths, which are plenty, rather than chasing the shadow of that other, more well-known, Jersey giant.

"A More Perfect Union"


Titus Andronicus will be playing Radio Radio tomorrow night as part of MOKB's excellent ongoing concert series.

Dum Dum Girls - I Will Be (Sub Pop)

I admit an extreme bias for garage/punk girl groups. Black Tambourine is a perennial favorite of mine. I thought Pens had one of the most underrated albums of last year. The Vivian Girls? Let's just say that "worship" is far too tame a word. Much of this adoration arises from the mixture of rough-hewed muscular rock with feminine vocals and themes. As a male, I get guys. I know what makes us tick, but women remain forever alluring and foreign. Any peek into their inner world is captivating, and because the mode of communicate these women choose is garage/punk it is in a language I can understand, unlike, say, Taylor Swift. So, while it is often necessary to get my inner caveman on with the likes of High On Fire and Sunn O))), ultimately for a rocker boy there is nothing more enthralling than a girl with a guitar ripping it up and screaming/singing her heart out.

Enter the Dum Dum Girls. Originally lead singer/songwriter Dee Dee's one woman bedroom operation, the project started out as a lo-fi homage to the 60s girl group sound with a serrated edge. A couple of early eps evidenced a world of potential, but neither really prepare the listener for the Girls debut album "I Will Be."

In between those early eps and "I Will Be," the girl become the Girls, adding band members Jules on guitar and vocals, Bambi on bass, and former original Vivian Girl Frankie Rose on drums and vocals. The addition of Jules, Bambi and Frankie makes for a world of difference in the Dum Dum Girls sound. Whereas in the past minimalism, drum machines or lo-fi fuckery compensated for the fact that it was just Dee Dee laying down her wonderful, but not entirely realized, pop tunes, the Girls now sound like a full-throated rock band, with the muscle to back up Dee Dee's often troubled musings. Add producer Richard Gottehrer into the mix, the man responsible for "My Boyfriend's Back" and "I Want Candy," as well as producer to Voidoids, Blondie and the GoGos, and you have the makings for one of the most the perfect garage/punk girl group records to date. "I Will Be" is exactly that - perfect.

The album features dark angry rockers ("It Only Takes One Night," ""Oh Mein Me," "I Will Be") aching ballads ("Rest Of Our Lives," "Baby Don't Go") and pop gems ("Bhang Bhang, I'm A Burnout," "Jail La La") filtered through the prism of the Ronettes and Garageland in equal parts. This 50-50 split in influence is what sets the Dum Dum Girls apart from their peers. Whereas Pens and the Vivian Girls tilt more toward garage punk with a smattering of 60s girl group sound, Phil Spector's "Wall of Sound" is absolutely essential to the sound of the Dum Dum Girls, as is punk rock and all that it inspired. Listen closely to a song like "Blank Girl," one of the album's best tracks, and it becomes apparent that without either influence working in near equal measure, this perfect song, and by extension this perfect album, wouldn't exist. A duet between Dee Dee and husband Brandon Welchez of Crocodiles, the song sounds like a lost 60s bubblegum pop classic at first blush, but on closer inspection it's clear that some of the bricks in the Wall Of Sound are constructed of late 70s New York and 80s new wave. Conversely, the titular track finds the band rocking it like Riot Grrrls, but repeat listens reveal 60s girl group harmonies and psyche-inflected guitar noodling in between the bars.

Lyrically as well, Dee Dee combines influences to craft simple sounding songs that reveal much more on closer inspection. Whether it is the drug-induced earworm "Bhang Bhang" (which is so damn addictive, that it's kind of hard to be upset if one's very young daughters end up running around singing this ode to psychedelics), or the very bad trip to the county jail that is "Jail La La," Dee Dee crafts the most wonderfully catchy, but fairly damaged, lyrics that have come down the pike in a while.

In the end "I Will Be" is a truly superb album. In turns tuneful and abrasive, sweet and biting, the Dum Dum Girls is pop at its most confident, catchy and serious. Listening to this album only underscores the vacuousness of what passes these days for popular music. There is nothing of this depth, or this addictiveness on our airwaves, but there should be. Dee Dee is worth a hundred Britneys, GaGas, Jessicas, Taylors, Beyonces and Fergies. This is the real deal and it isn't any less fun, just a whole lot more fulfilling. And, for those rocker dudes who love women with guitars singing their heart out, as well as those women who are drawn to the serrated edge, it doesn't get any better than this.

"Jail La La"


"Blank Girl"

Godspeed Returns!

This appeared on the internets last week and shook the foundations of the world just a bit.

If you are too lazy to click on the pic, it is a message from Godspeed You! Black Emperor announcing their return after a nearly seven-year absence. For those who missed them the first time around, GYBE, along with Mogwai, were THE seminal "post-rock" band. Now, while "post-rock" may have long fallen out of favor, GYBE's legacy has easily withstood the rising and falling tides of musical trends. Their intense mixture of ambient, classical, metal, folk and Ennio Morricone-styled guitar, coupled with their fiercely D.I.Y. attitude, ensured that long after their countless imitators ceased to matter, GYBE emerged as musical legends. Although the band went silent years ago, their influence looms large over everything from black metal and drone, to Canadian indie rock acts like Arcade Fire and Broken Social Scene. Radiohead long ago added them to their list of influences, and even Seth Rogen immortalized the band with the best line from the film "Pineapple Express." Finally, for what it is worth, your humble writer considers their album "Life Your Skinny Fists Like Antennas To Heaven" to be the very best - numero uno - album of the aughts.

What is most telling is that years after their original run, you will still meet people who have just discovered Godspeed undergoing what could pass for a religious conversion. You can usually tell these folks by the rabid obsession in their eyes when discussing the band.

Yes, years later, this band will still blow you away. So, if you haven't picked up your necessary allotment of GYBE, get thee down here and grab their three excellent albums; "F#A# (Infinity)," "Lift Your Skinny Fists...," and "Yanqui U.X.O.," as well as their superb ep "Slow Riot For New Zero Kanada."

While you are at it, pick up some of the killer side projects that grew out of this band, like Silver Mt. Zion and Set Fire to Flames.

Godspeed is hitting the road this December to present a live experience like no other. Are you going to be ready?

Great Fan Video for "Dead Flag Blues"



"Blaise Bailey Finnegan III" live pt. 1



"Blaise Bailey Finnegan III" live pt. 2

Zola Jesus - Stridulum (Sacred Bones)

When artists make major stylistic changes in their musical approach, they typically wait until they release a full-length album. This allows them to make a complete statement about where they have been and where they are going. Further, by rolling out their shift in direction in the form of a long player people tend to notice. It suddenly becomes important. Hell, it usually kicks off more than a few healthy debates about an artist's "old stuff" versus the new. EPs, instead, are often a playground where musicians try out ideas and explore the limits of their abilities, often producing music that mirrors their ambition, for better or worse. If an EP alienates an audience, well, there is always the promise of a more fully realized LP just around the corner. Such is not the case with Zola Jesus.

Zola Jesus, a/k/a Nika Roza Danilova, emerged amidst the 80s revivalism of the past couple of years as the keeper of the eerie ethereal flame of proto-goth. Her darkly majestic songs summoned the spirit of 4AD linchpins This Mortal Coil and Cocteau Twins as well as early Siouxsie Sioux and Diamonda Galas. Alongside those musical touchstones, Zola Jesus painted everything in a lo-fi fuzzed out murk that only deepened the mystery of her songs. Following her excellent debut "The Spoils," with the even darker and scarier "Tsar Bomba" EP, it looked like Danilova was prepared to ratchet up the musical drama, and, in turn, power, while shunning accessibility. In some quarters that kind of a move is what demarcates real artists from so many flavors of the month. So it is with a bit of a shock that one meets the "Stridulum" EP on first impression. The EP signals a fairly major shift in Zola Jesus' approach. Gone is the murk, gone are the hazy atmospherics and gone, unfortunately, is some of the mystery.

The six-song EP begins with "Night," the most straightforward song Danilova has released to date. The 80s inflected dark synths and drum machines are still there, but they sound clean and clear, rather than buried under a fuzzy haze. On repeated listens the song becomes more acceptable as is, but initially the listener wouldn't be blamed for wanting some of that lo-fi production back in the mix. It isn't that Zola Jesus lacks the talent to write good songs, as so many lo-fi bands do who cover their lack of ability with layers of noise, it is that her particular style of music benefits from layers of hypnotic static, reverb and general musical opaqueness. This is the kind of music that grows in power in darkened rooms. Danilova's voice has been like a candle that casts light, keeping the monsters at bay, throughout her previous work. Performances like "Night" lose a bit of that power since all of the corners are lit to some degree, leaving less depth of field for Danilova to stand out against.

"Trust Me" and "I Can't Stand" follow and broaden Danilova's new approach by turning the lights up all the way. Oddly, though, each song is immediately more successful than "Night." Both songs center around Danilova's entreatments of solace to an unknown troubled listener. They remind me of the kind of songs I found comfort in during those rough high school years. You know, the kind you listened to while wearing buttons of the Moz on your jacket, wishing for a better life far from the confines of home and those d-bags that populated your school hallways...or maybe that was just me. Either way, both songs provide a perfect salve for that kind of teenage angst, which makes sense, since Danilova herself is not too far removed from those days of awkward uncertainty, having just turned a mere 21.

The EP's title track finds Zola Jesus backtracking just a little bit by offering up a powerful, swelling chunk of proto-goth that highlights Danilova's incredible voice. While she was trained in opera, it is actually the harrowing and soulful aspects of Danilova's voice that makes it so unique. There are world class opera singers who lack the alluring naturalism of Danilova's voice, and while their vocal stylings may rock the house during a performance of Puccini at the Metropolitan, I'll take the grit and force of Danilova's delivery any day. But then again, what do I know? I hate opera. I love Danilova's voice though, and think it is one of the finest natural wonders to emerge on the music scene in years.

The EP ends with the incredible "Manifest Destiny." Here Danilova returns to the darkness, but maintains the clean production of the rest of the release. The song is a stately piece of work that sounds like an army marching toward battle, eventually exploding in attack while Danilova's voice soars over the carnage. It's a great number and one that proves that even if Danilova chooses to make more transparent music there is still room for her to embrace the darkness of her prior releases to great effect.

"Stridulum" will be a grower for fans of Zola Jesus' previous releases, but one that eventually proves itself to be a solid piece of work, with more than a few spectacular moments. For newcomers who will hear "Stridulum" without any baggage, this will likely prove to be an immediately satisfying listen. Just be prepared when someone says "I liked her old stuff better," even if that old stuff is barely a year old.

Zola Jesus Stridulum from Imaginary Animal on Vimeo.

Zola Jesus Run Me Out / Manifest Destiny from Imaginary Animal on Vimeo.

Ted Leo & the Pharmacists - "The Brutalist Bricks" (Matador Records)

"The new millennium is tough, for some more than others, what a ridiculous understatement," snarls Ted Leo on "Ativan Eyes," a document of economic class struggle set over bouncy pop punk from his latest "The Brutalist Bricks." The song is a catchy energetic piece of agitprop that would make a perfect soundtrack for a sunny day, even if the subject matter is nothing to smile about. Yet that dichotomy is what has defined Ted Leo throughout his career. He makes snappy addictive pop songs fashioned out of a patchwork of punk, folk, reggae, ska and Thin Lizzy-infected rock and roll. His music is like a shot of adrenaline that comes in handy during long drives or when you need that extra push at the gym, while his lyrics are thought-provoking nuggets of political and personal discourse. Leo has been called an idealist from time to time, and I often wonder if that isn't more because of the often lively disposition of his music than it is a reflection of his politics and lyrics. But then again, what else do you call a guy who has the red/black anarcho-syndicalist flag planted in the middle of his lyric sheet with the words "The Truth Is In The Garden" printed over it?

Following the somewhat disappointing "Living With The Living," it was hard not to approach "The Brutalist Bricks" with trepidation. As one reviewer wrote, it was possible that "Living" marked the beginning of the sunset years in Leo's much respected musical career. Those fears are quickly laid to rest as soon as the needle hits the groove on "A Mighty Sparrow." The song kicks off with Leo's distinctive voice calling out "when the cafe doors exploded, I reacted to, reacted to you." Soon thereafter the Pharmacists explode as well, sounding as lean and tight as ever. It's a good sign that heralds a return to form for Leo, which continues throughout an album full of solid bangers.

For the next 40 minutes, with the exception of the pleasant, but slight, "One Polaroid A Day," and the confounding "Tuberculoids Arrive In Hop," Leo and the Pharmacists lay down some of the finest pop punk in years. There isn't anything here that we haven't heard before from Leo, but that is okay. The problem with "Living," was that Leo attempted too many different individual styles of music, and in the end it came off as music tourism. This isn't to say that there aren't some great moments to be found on that album, but if I want to hear reggae I will listen to Lee "Scratch" Perry, not Ted Leo. On the other hand, if I want to hear pop punk, I can't think of anyone better to provide than Ted Leo, and provide he does with "The Brutalist Bricks." From the Oi Oi of "Where Was My Brain?" to the indie/garage/classic-rock mashup of "Last Days," Leo and the Pharmacists fully satisfy.

Two songs stand out and more than satisfy, they are goddamned spectacular. The first is "Mourning in America," which draws a direct line from the racial politics of Ronald Reagan's "southern strategy" to the "tea-baggers" and "birthers" of today. Leo's voice is at its most urgent here, while the Pharmacists play with all the requisite sound and fury befitting the song's subject matter. It is an angry and desperate piece that exposes the racism seated deep in the breast of America's right-wing, who increasingly resemble those white-hooded terrorists of old. Leo calls them out for being "long manipulated and willfully dumb." One of the great modern tragedies is that while there is plenty to be angry about, the real enemies, corporations and their bought and paid for politicians, manipulate peoples' fear, causing them to act against their own interests. So what else do you call poor foreclosed white folks who shows up to town hall meetings screaming that Obama is a Nazi for wanting to provide them with health care?

The other song is "Bottled Up In Cork," which begins with the same fury as "Mourning," with Leo singing about a "peace keeping" debate on the floor of the U.N. The song quickly turns from the political into a personal travelogue. The music bears the melodicism of a world traveller imparting insight. One gets the sense from the song that Leo loves the world he lives in, loves to explore it and loves the people he meets along the way, but that the misdeeds of Washington and Wall Street, which threatens those places and people, are never far from his mind. One line stands out in particular; "a little goodwill goes a mighty long way." If there is any expression to sum up Leo's approach to music and politics that would be it. Leo has always come in goodwill, even when he is singing about the atrocious realities of our time, and "The Brutalist Bricks" is another fine example of his agitprop pop.

"A Mighty Sparrow" live on Jimmy Fallon


"Mourning In America"


"Bottled Up In Cork"