PHILIP JECK - An Ark For the Listener (Touch)

What makes for a good drone/experimental record? I would argue that the success or failure of a record of this sort rests entirely on the subjective reaction of the listener. My favorite drone records are those that have either resonated with me emotionally as a result in shifts in the record's sonic dynamics, or those that I have been able to completely lose myself in through a process of audial immersion. Some of the best experimental records are rather dynamic with large arcs, squalls and swells, while others are completely static and meditative. There is no one formula for what works and what doesn't, or, I should say, what connects with the listener and what doesn't. It's more of a feeling, and not something that can be reduced to a scholastic exercise, although certainly some would argue otherwise.

Philip Jeck has always been one of the more dynamic experimental artist in the field. Crafting soundscapes out of old records played on old record players and processed through effects pedals, Jeck is less a turntablist and more of a sound sculptor. I have had the fortune to see him perform, and I was amazed at the sound he was able to construct as he sat behind his turntables spinning nicked up and warped records. As with all things vinyl there is an immediate warmth to Jeck's sound, like sepia-toned memories. That warmth coupled with his ear for superbly effective dynamic structures throughout his compositions have made him one of the leading lights in experimental music alongside Fennesz and Tim Hecker. A simple look back at his catalog reveals some of the best records of the sort of the last ten years. "Surf" "Stoke" "7" and the massive "Vinyl Coda" series are all essential and necessary releases for any self-respecting fan of experimental music. So when a new Philip Jeck record drops, it is cause for more than a little excitement.

Jeck's last record "Sand" was somewhat of a let down in that it was comprised of smaller scale pieces not necessarily tied to one another either thematically or sonically, which brings up yet another commonality among truly great experimental recordings - they almost always take you on a journey from the time of the first tone to the fade of the last shimmer. They are records to be taken as a whole in one sitting without pause. "Sand" attempted to stuff Jeckian epics into shorter non-related pieces, which wasn't entirely a bad idea on paper, but it didn't quite succeed like his other more immersive recordings. "An Ark For The Listener" finds Jeck returning to the album as a journey template. Inspired by "a meditation on verse 33 of "The Wreck of the Deutchsland", Gerard Manley Hopkins' poem about the drowning on December 7th 1875 of five Franciscan nuns exiled from Germany," according to Jeck, the album remains consistent in tone and intent throughout. Even the two songs not related to the theme of the album; "All That's Allowed" and "Chime, Chime (re-rung)," which are remixes of two pieces from another essential Jeck release "Suite: Live in Liverpool," sound like they were created as part of the whole here.

Although Jeck has returned to a more consistent whole with "Ark," the album differs markedly from his previous records in that it is a much more subtle affair, with many of the dynamics easily glossed over during a casual listen. It took me days to unpack these recordings, and only when I strapped on the headphones did the album fully reveal itself. What initially sounds like simple and unimpressive (by Jeckian standards) drones on the first few listens eventually open up to expose their complex and dense layers of sounds. This isn't a record like "7" where pieces immediately reach out and grab you. You have to come to the song, spending time with it before you can fully submerge yourself in "Ark's" soundfield. The reward for that investment is a richly textured record that is both as challenging as it is meditative.

"Ark" is a bit darker than previous Jeck releases. Not that Jeck's dense sound worlds were ever a ray of sunshine, but there were often moments throughout his recordings of levity and brightness. Here the tones are mostly muted and smudged grayscale, with far less sepia. There is also a liquidity to the sound courtesy of some bass guitar, an instrument that Jeck seems to have gained an affinity for of late (check out his recent excellent solo bass ep "Spool" to see what I mean). All of these characteristics are only fitting for an album inspired by the drowning of a group of nuns. And trust me, by the time you are able to fully digest and submerge yourself in this recording, you will feel an affinity for those nuns, because like them you will find yourself feeling buried under walls of water slowly choking out your last breath. It's just that dense and claustrophobic of an affair at times.

"Ark" certainly wouldn't be the first record I would recommend for a Jeck novice, it is far too inaccessible. For the uninitiated I would suggest "7" or "Soak." But, for those of us who have found solace in Jeck throughout the past decade this is one of his most challenging and complicated works, but also incredibly rewarding. It will cause unease, and it will bury you both with its intent and execution, but it will astonish you with its clarity of vision as well as Jeck's ability to carry it out. This may not be the first record I will reach for in Jeck's collection, but it is the one I will grab when I don't want to take the easy way out.

"Thirtieth/Pilot Reprise"


"The All of Water"

THROWBACK MONDAY - Kurt Vile/Guided By Voices

Ok, so it's not Monday, it's actually Tuesday and it's not a throwback post, but actually a preview of the delights that await Indianapolis and the surrounding area come this final Friday of Rocktober. First up Kurt Vile in an increasingly rare acoustic solo set right here at Luna on 52nd. Starting at 5 p.m. on the nose you can marvel at Vile's wholly original take on roots music. Vile is nothing short of a poet both lyrically and musically, who adds a slightly warped and surrealistic edge to his brand of Americana. He's kind of like Jack Kerouac singing Hank Williams. Yeah he's that good.

Check out a couple of live acoustic clips here:

"Dead Alive"


"Overnite Religion"


Once you've checked out the Luna in-store you can mosey on over to The White Rabbit Cabaret in Fountain Square for Vile's full band concert later that evening. Show starts at 8, and features the Soft Pack opening.

OR you can hop in one of the many vehicles headed 50 miles south to see indie rock legends Guided By Voices at the Bluebird in Bloomington. Unless you have been living under a rock for most of 2010 you already know that the classic line-up of GBV has reunited to take a well-earned booze-soaked victory lap around the states so that we can once again revel in that other great American band to emerge from the 90s not named Pavement. Since it's Halloween as well this weekend, let's tie this all together with a little GBV singing about ghosts and demons...

"Demons Are Real"


"A Salty Salute" from Matador 21


And the classic line-up back in the day...

BELLE & SEBASTIAN - Write About Love (Matador)

Way back in 1996 life itself became just a little brighter with the mere existence of one of indie rocks greatest acts - Belle & Sebastian. They were like a security blanket against the twists and turns of failed relationships, shitty jobs and the general cruelty inherent in the human condition. They sung about damaged people in damaged times, but theirs was a voice of understanding and comfort that made the slog not only tolerable, but somehow beautiful. Their wit and wisdom would save many a rainy day, and when they played happy, you couldn't help but get caught up in their infectious joy. It's been four long years since we have heard from Belle and Sebastian, but now the band have returned with their eighth album "Write About Love" just in time for autumn, when they sound even better, although they always sound great.

In discussing "Write About Love" with any long time fan of the band, the first question out of their mouth is whether it sounds like "Life's Pursuit," and "Dear Catastrophe Waitress," the band's decidedly upbeat extroverted forays into 60s English pop, or whether it sounds like the 'old stuff,' which was the definition of twee - slight introverted songs heavy on emotion. So, let's just get that question out of the way at the get go: It sounds like neither. In a lot of ways the album combines all the places Belle & Sebastian have been and takes them someplace new - a place more refined and polished, but as equally effective as anything they have done before.

The record kicks off with what has become personally my favorite song of the year; "I Didn't See It Coming." Sarah Martin leads the song about down on their luck lovers who are determined to live life fully despite their woes. Behind her the band finds a groove with a slight shuffle that slowly builds toward a climax that brings frontman Stuart Murdoch out from the shadows to drive the song home with his pleadings of "make me dance, I want to surrender." The song is Belle & Sebastian in a nutshell; joyful in spite of crappy circumstances, happy, but not ignorantly so. And as someone who can relate all too well to the song's protagonists, every single feeling and word rings true. There is no wrong move, no false step in "I Didn't See It Coming," instead it imparts authentic hope - not hope that things will get better, but hope that you can find joy even when life is dealing you a shit hand.

The band stays upbeat, and slightly groovy with "Come On Sister," which sounds like old school Belle & Sebastian dressed up in all the bells and whistles of the band's increased instrumental repertoire of "Life's Pursuit" and "Catastrophe Waitress," mixing the best of both worlds and coming out on the other side grinning. By the time we get to the third track, the sleepy "Calculating Bimbo," which hearkens back to the band's classic acoustic driven sound, we know we are in for yet another satisfying outing from the band, a point driven home by the superb hard-charging (well, hard-charging by Belle & Sebastian standards) "I Want the World To Stop," which follows.

There are a couple of tracks that drag the proceedings down. Murdock's duet with Norah Jones on "Little Lou, Ugly Jack, Prophet John" sounds more like a Norah Jones song than it does a Belle & Sebastian song, and I don't mean that in a good way. Also the Stevie Jackson fronted "I'm Not Living in the Real World" sticks out like a sore-thumb with it's Austin Powers party on Piccadilly street sound. It's actually not a horrible song, it just a little too much. The band sound much better on the white-boy boogie of the album's titular track and the minor, but gorgeous "The Ghost of Rockschool," a religious song in nature, but one with an undeniable beauty that pulls at even the hardened heartstrings of an old atheist like me.

The band saves two of their best tracks for last. The drop dead perfection of the Martin-fronted "I Can See Your Future" recalls the wonder and beauty of the band's classic b-sides that were often better than anything on the a-sides. Complete with a string section, arching french horn break and Martin's smooth as milk vocals the song is a reminder of what made Belle & Sebastian so special in the first place. Finally there is the slightly darker jangle rock of "Sunday's Pretty Icons," a track that finds Murdock in classic form with lyrics like:

Somebody asked me what hell was like
Lunging and happening, parting of souls
Every girl you ever admired
Every boy you ever desired
Every love you ever forgot
Every person that you despised is forgiven

Because only Murdock would define hell as forgiveness for those who tortured you in life. It's part of his appeal - the sly wit, a biting misanthropy shrouded in tweeness, and the occasional authentic outbursts of empathy, sorrow, anger and joy. It's all here, and it sounds as fresh as it did fourteen years ago, if only tighter and more polished. Fourteen more years please.

"I Didn't See It Coming"


"I Want The World To Stop"


"I Can See Your Future"

SALEM - King Knight (IAMSOUND)

The advent of Salem as a "buzzband" is less a story about a band, and more of a commentary on the relentlessness and restlessness of music bloggers. Anyone who has ever read an interview, or viewed a live performance realize that Salem really don't give a fuck what you or anyone else thinks about their music - they are making it for themselves and themselves alone, and if you want to come along for the ride, or the "drag," then so be it, but don't expect them to tailor anything toward your trend-hopping ass. They didn't set out to create a genre, they didn't set out to make for a movement, but that is just what they did, through no fault of their own. How this happened has nothing to do with the band's intentions and everything to do with the frenzy by which bloggers attack anything new and slightly original. The band combines various forms of electronic music, dance and hip-hop to come up with something that resembles a rave on ambien. It is original? Kind of - in that no one else really sounds like this, but a close listen will reveal every single element derivative of something else. Be it goth or crunk, it's in there and apparent. The fact that the band combined all of these elements under one roof and made it sound, for the most part, pretty damn good had bloggers scrambling to digest, categorize and name this new, somewhat different sound, thereby creating a pigeonhole where one did not exist before.

A cursory review of attempts to capture and contain Salem's music reveal such reviled terms as "witch-house" "haunted-house" "drag" (my favorite because it is derived from a maligned and misunderstood quote from an interview with member Jack Donoghue, showing how desperate some were to categorize this music) and finally the infamous "rape gaze" (another favorite because following the fall-out that accompanied the overeager use of this term by Pitchfork in their review of "King Night" they quickly retracted it, thankfully Hipster Runoff has decided to not let them forget it). All of these descriptors bespeak of a ravenous music press vying for a shot at becoming the next Simon Reynolds (who infamously coined the term "post-rock" in his review of Bark Psychosis' "Hex" album, thus helping to shape and define a new kind of sound) by coming up with a name that in essence forces the creation of a whole new musical genre, regardless of whether or not that genre actually exists outside of the context of that name. So Salem is "witch house" "haunted house" "drag" and/or "rape gaze" all because some music writer somewhere wanted to be the first to bag and tag a sound that sort of kind of sounds different from anything else, but ultimately not really.

Once the genre was named, the descriptors started flying; "scary" "terrifying" "dark" "bleak." If you didn't know better, you would think Salem were a doom or black metal band, not a dance-oriented electro act that really isn't any of those things. And what do Salem think about all this rush for judgment, this baseless hyperbole, this embarrassingly overwrought analysis? They could clearly give a fuck care less. Like I said, they just want to make music they like, and if you like it; fine, but you don't really have to. It's really no big deal to them either way. They didn't create this beast, we did with our incessant need to hype, consume and categorize. Once you get past the idea of Salem as a "buzzband" and the baseless stupid attempts to create a genre out of their sound, Salem are actually not half bad. I kind of like what these guys and girl are doing for themselves.

Semi-born out of a sordid history of drug abuse and prostitution, the Chicago/Michigan trio create a dense electronic sound that is sometimes gritty and sometimes beautiful, and often a mixture of both. Take the album's title track; it sounds like a dirty slowed down UK garage single but is quickly elevated by bubbling synths and a tweaked choral rendering of "O Holy Night." It's massive and absurd and cool all at the same time. "Asia" follows and sounds even larger, with gently soaring distorted synths and ethereal vocals over quasi-military drums mixed with a simple industrial beat. It's even more absurd, maybe even outright stupid, and yet if you let it, it will move you. This dichotomy of high and low art is what makes Salem work. Throughout the band's debut they seamlessly mix the sublime with the grime, crafting layers upon layers of sound to make for their own unique take on electronic dance, and even though each element has been done somewhere by someone else before, it hasn't been mashed together into a cloth sack like this before.

Occasionally Salem slips into affectation as on "Sick" "Trapdoor" and "Tair," a smattering of 'chopped and screwed' hip-hop tracks that quickly wear out their welcome. Each song interrupts the album's momentum to some degree and detract from what, at times, is a pretty powerful release overall. The band is better suited toward the cathedral-sized ambient dance of "Redlights" and the goth-driven coldwave of "Hound" and "Killer" than they are DJ Screw. But whatever, they seem to have an affection for it, and this isn't music for me, it's music for them. I just can't remain on their codeine-inflected hip-hop hayride for too long. It's the point where I have to fast forward to the next bliss-inducing track full of sheets of synthesizers and angelic vocals.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention that regardless of what has been written about Salem, their music isn't the least bit scary, so don't believe that hype. If you want scary contact me and I'll set you up with scary. If this is "witch-house" then we must be talking about Glenda the Good Witch and not witches at black masses.

Will "King Knight" sound good in two years? I don't know. I think it will. Ultimately, I don't really care, nor do Salem probably. Right now, though, this is sounding pretty damn cool and comforting, and it is ripe with harbingers of the band's potential. They could go in many directions from here both mundane and amazing. This isn't to say that they haven't already created some great music, because they have, it is just to say that unlike most bands, Salem sounds like they could be something extraordinarily special and important, or drop off the map after a year.

"Asia"

SALEM - ASIA from SALEM on Vimeo.

"Hound"

THROWBACK MONDAY - Pentagram

Halloween is just around the corner, turning our attention to darker, scarier things - the kind of things that heavy metal, as a genre, so often explores and glorifies. It's generally agreed metal originated out of Birmingham, England when Tony Iommi constructed the song "Black Sabbath" out of the musical tritone known as the "diabolus in musica", or "The Devil's Interval." While most bands that came to be known as heavy metal in Sabbath's wake were really just hard rock bands, one band shepherded Sabbath's gloom and doom, cultivating it throughout the 70s and 80s until the eventual doom explosion of the 90s and aughts vindicated their tireless and troublesome efforts. That band was Arlington, Virginia's Pentagram. Fronted by the oft-colorful and consistently self-destructive Bobby Liebling, the band's revolving door of members left behind their early blue-rock trappings to become one of the most highly regarded underground heavy metal acts of the last 40 years, whose legend has only grown in time. Above is a picture of me and Bobby after Pentagram's train wreck of a show in Indianapolis last winter. Living up to legend, the night before the band's guitarist had quit forcing Bobby to recruit a new guitarist on the fly to play the show. Needless to say it wasn't exactly a stellar performance, but it was admirable that Liebling would not give up, making sure that the show would go on - much like he has throughout the years toiling away in obscurity and in a haze of hardcore drug abuse that probably should have killed him years ago. So for this Halloween turn down the lights, turn up the stereo and give props to the band that virtually defines Rocktober...

"The Ghoul" live


"Live Free and Burn" live

ANTONY & THE JOHNSONS - Swanlights (Secretly Canadian)

Some records are immediately accessible and easy to digest in a short period of time, other records take weeks, months, maybe even years to plumb the depths of and grasp in full. Antony & The Johnsons "Swanlights" is the latter. So anything I write here is going to be cursory at best, since even after two weeks of listening to "Swanlights" I am really only just beginning to unpack its contents. All of Antony's familiar themes are here: nature, mortality, transformation and rebirth. He begins and ends the album declaring that "everything is new," after, of course, a cycle of physical and/or metaphorical death and rebirth. That part of the album is fairly easy to grasp. And, par for the course, Antony's preternatural voice elevates his sometimes knotty naturalistic poetry to heights unimaginable by other artists, but this is what we have come to expect from an Antony & the Johnsons album. Even though each of these characteristics are extraordinary in comparison to other artists, for Anthony & the Johnsons these kind of achievements are just another day at the office.

Where "Swanlights" gets heady is in the album's expansive and often complex musical compositions which back and complement Antony's vocals. The group draws on a vast musical pallete to create a far less accessible record than before, but one that is deeply rewarding. Following "I Am A Bird's" concise, baroque pop approach, Antony & the Johnsons have been moving further and further away from "Bird's" soul and pop underbelly toward 20th century classical music and experimentalism, "Swanlight" is the culmination of that shift away from conventional song structures toward something more resembling Talk Talk's "Laughing Stock."

Most of the album adopts an incredibly minimalistic approach, rather than overblown orchestrations. "Everything Is New" begins the album with subtle plucked strings and piano before expanding every so slightly with understated violin and percussion. Yet there is an odd dynamism throughout the song that finds the group playing feverishly at times, even while maintaining a generally restrained approach. "The Great White Ocean" is, at heart, an acoustic ballad, but stripped down to the point that it verges on formlessness. "Ghosts," on the other hand, leaps immediately from the speakers with a Steve Reich-like motif, but grows sparser as more spacious piano and strings come to characterize the piece before returning to the frantic repetitive minimalism of the intro. The album's first half ends with the springlike "I'm In Love" that features a cacophony of instrumentation centering around organ, woodwinds and percussion that juxtaposes the repetition of 20th century minimalism with the sway and swoon of more romantic idioms. It's the musical equivalent of a blossoming flower, or a butterfly emerging from the cocoon, but again it is ever so subtle as the band continues to resist a maximalist approach.

The album's centerpiece, and highlight, is the title track. "Swanlights" begins with Antony singing "living is such a golden thing" over a somewhat menacing guitar drone. Halfway through the song a stately piano progression cuts the atmosphere, and Antony's layered vocals grow more soulful and powerful. It's really a simple piece once you dissect it, but it's also the album's most powerful moment. "The Spirit Was Gone" follows and maintains the darker approach of "Swanlights" with skeletal piano and strings backing Antony's lyrical meditation on mortality.

The album's single 'conventional' moment comes with the excellent "Thank You For Your Love." Reminiscent of "I Am A Bird's" brighter moments, "Thank You" swings like an old Lou Reed track before the band works themselves into a mild frenzy of vocals, horns and galloping drums. The album returns to a meditative stance with "Fietta," featuring Bjork on vocals backed by Antony. The song vacillates between haunting sparseness and lively purpose, and is generally what you would expect from such a pairing.

The album closes with the gorgeously melancholic "Christine's Farm." As with much of the album, most of the piece features Antony singing over subdued piano, but the the rhythm that his voice creates as it interacts with the instrumentation is mesmerizing. There is something absolutely hypnotic about the way Antony's almost becomes yet another instrument in the band's arsenal. Throughout "Swanlights," and in particular on "Christine's Farm," the vocals, piano and strings work together to construct a seamless musical movement, where each instrument, vocals included, works to serve and complement every other. It's an effective approach and one that can make for a powerfully moving experience.

Of course, that is what "Swanlights" is ultimately; a powerfully moving experience. I say "of course" because that is what we have come to expect from Antony & the Johnsons by now, and maybe that expectation blunts some of the excitement of "Swanlights." It is undoubtedly an incredibly constructed and profound record, but upon listening to "Thank You For Your Love," one can't help but to wish that Antony would switch things up a bit more. Yes, he has a perfect voice for the kind of classical experimentalism that populates "Swanlights," but he also has an amazingly soulful voice that is served equally well within more conventional pop settings. Both sides of Antony are equally great, I just kind of wish he gave both equal time. Having said that "Swanlights" is a culmination and perfection of Antony's experimental side, and one that will both challenge listeners, and engage them emotionally every step of the way.

"Thank You For Your Love"

"Thank You For Your Love" by Antony and the Johnsons from Secretly Jag on Vimeo.

"Swanlights"


"Christina's Farm"

NO AGE - Everything In Between (Sub Pop)

Up until now I had little use for No Age. Their first proper album "Nouns" was released in 2008 amidst a slew of similar lo-fi indie rock (emphasis on the rock) bands. Times New Viking, Vivian Girls, Wavves and Titus Andronicus all released lo-fi albums that same year that rocked harder, and were ten times more dynamic and captivating than anything on "Nouns," critical hyperbole aside. I know that what I am saying is the minority opinion, particularly since No Age were rewarded with a top five spot on many year-end lists and I could barely have a conversation about music that year that didn't eventually contain the question 'have you heard No Age?' followed by the incredulous response 'really? I thought they would totally be your thing?!' once I versed my lack of enthusiasm for "Nouns." Now, I understand why people would be shocked that I didn't dig "Nouns." It was fuzzy and loud, which are two of my favorite musical qualities, and it hearkened back to the glory days of bands like Dinosaur Jr., Sonic Youth and Guided By Voices. But fuzzy and loud, as well as mining the bones of indie rock's past, can only get you so far. I need hooks, melodies and other sweet nothings to keep me interested after the allure of walls of lo-fi noise wears off. Even now as I listen to "Nouns" I cannot get past the monotony of that album. Sure, there are a few songs here and there that kill, but for the most part I stand by my initial assessment. "Teen Creeps" is a keeper, but as the album wears on, it grows increasingly flat and just plain boring, with few hooks, if any, to keep a discerning listener engaged. So when Dan, the man who hooks me up week after week with new shit to review, said "we go the new No Age in," the most excitement I could muster up was a shrug of the shoulders and a barely audible "meh."

Given my general apathy for "Nouns," why in the world am I am writing a review of their second proper release (third overall) "Everything In Between"? Well, admittedly on occasion I read what other reviewers say about music and I noticed the high praise that "Everything" was receiving. Somewhere in the back of my head my subconscious said that since lo-fi fuzz rock bands were now a dime a dozen, most of these critics were probably not giving extra points for the novelty of No Age's approach, as might have been the case with "Nouns," when the lo-fi movement was really starting to build. Soon there after I had the opportunity to see No Age open for Pavement, and I heard songs I didn't recognize from "Nouns" and they were good, really really good. So I thought, what the hell, I'll give "Everything" a spin. What's the worst that could happen? I lose 45 minutes of my life? If I can listen to Neon Indian's album at least three times trying to 'get it,' then I can give these guys, who are at least a real rock band, another shot.

I am incredibly glad I did. I still have general apathy for "Nouns," but "Everything In Between," may just end up being on my year-end list's top five. This is a hell of an album. It's more dynamic and diverse than "Nouns," and demonstrates a major evolution in songwriting for the duo of Randy Randall and Dean Allen Spunt.

The album begins with "Life Prowler," a song whose atmospheric guitar intro is undercut by a steadily pounding beat that turns what would be an almost post-rock ambiance into a pulsating anthem even before it turns into a proper forward lurching rhythm. It's an uplifting track that draws upon the emotionality of post-rock and the power of well crafted indie pop, and the best part is that it's really only an intro for what is to come. "Glitter" follows with dazzling guitar effects and bop and sway drums. If "Nouns" was missing hooks, "Glitter" piles them up with each and every line. It's a perfect song that builds upon the ambient pop of "Life Prowler," and blows it out into the universe. This shit is life affirming and life altering. Seriously, it's that good. This is the kind of song that you want to hear live with all of your friends at a big festival where you can lose yourselves in the beauty of the moment and the music. If you've ever had that experience, you will know what I'm talking about.

The band returns to their punky roots with "Fever Dreaming," which sounds a bit like an SST band of old, with squelching guitars thrown into the mix. It's a rocker and, dare I say, a hooky earworm from the band I considered a yawn fest a mere two years ago. "Depletion" finds the band further mining those old hardcore roots, with a darker sound reminiscent of Hüsker Dü or early Dinosaur Jr. Having said that, I feel it necessary that to say that while No Age often gets compared to those indie rock legends, and while I am not one to let an influence or a rip-off go unchecked, No Age ultimately sounds like No Age. Their raw emotive guitar sound does indeed fall within the same general vicinity as the Hüskers and Dinos and Sonic Youth, but they do not sound like those bands. They have their own voice and their own unique take on lo-fi indie/punk fuzz that sounds more like an evolution in sound than it does a throwback.

Switching things up, Randall and Spunt offer up the desperate acoustic-based "Common Heat," followed by the kind of Animal Collectivish meets crushing guitar-drone that isn't quite evil enough to be Sunn 0))) "Skinned" just to keep things interesting. Did I say this album was diverse?

What comes next is the stuff of legends. "Valley Hump Crash" begins and proceeds like a proper engaging indie pop-rock song. It would have been a more than satisfying track full of melody and bounce if the band had just provided the right kind of bridge or solo to preserve it in the amber of indie-rock goodness, but No Age isn't interested in mere goodness on "Everything." By now it is clear they are shooting for greatness and "Valley Hump Crash" brings them that much closer to their goal. Yeah there is a bridge, and it's pretty cool, but after the band returns to the song's main melody they start to emphasize a bit of a darker chord progression before exploding into a Sonic Youth-worthy freak out, while never losing the script on the melody. And then, with barely a breath, comes the stumbling rhythm of "Sorts" that sounds like a drunken love-sick punk trying to find his footing. Once he does, the song falls into a lockstep groove that sounds like victory over whatever internal and external demons that plagued him. Tellingly, the song comes to a close with the refrain "lalala without you." Both "Valley Hump Crash" and "Sorts" are amazing in their own right, but back-to-back they pack a one-two punch that no other album this year has produced, pushing "Everything" over the top, and redeeming No Age once and for all in my book.

The only weakness here is the band's insistence on producing decent but ultimately forgettable instrumentals like "Dusted" and "Positive Amputation." Oddly, both tracks would sound great on lesser records, but they drag "Everything" down after a straight run of amazingly dynamic songs.

Thankfully the band returns to the fray once more with the blistering "Shed and Transcend." It's an indie-punk rocker that smells like mosh pit and spilled beer everywhere, and all the better for it. "Chem Trials" closes the album with vocals being exchanged between Spunt and Randall and finds the band returning to a more uplifting fuzz-pop stance that brings the record full circle.

In the end "Everything In Between" is a sonic journey full of highs and lows, joy and despair, love and disdain curated by two men who's songwriting ability has grown by leaps and bounds to the point where it is no hyperbole to say that this album is a reflection of life itself - all of it's beauty, and all of it's unbearable shit. It is also a watershed album for the lo-fi movement; an album that shuns affectation for substance.

For a band that I never gave a second thought to, No Age has set a new standard for other lo-fi artists to aspire toward. All that is left to say is highest recommendation possible.

Very nice fan video for "Glitter"


Another example of badassery fan video for "Sorts"


Shitty sound, but awesome video with dancing kids of "Depletion" live

THROWBACK MONDAY - Basic Channel

In 1993 Mortiz Von Oswald and Mark Ernestus formed Basic Channel. Both a record label and techno act, Basic Channel became one of the main progenitors of dub-techno, which has recently enjoyed a healthy revival via Deepchord and its related artists/releases. Combining minimalistic German-techno with the hazy warmth of dub, Basic Channel crafted a sleek, but comforting new sound whose echoes can be heard in the skittish dissonance of Pole's first three classic releases as well as Burial's ghostly dub-step. Here's a small sampling of these Teutonic legends...

Scion Arrange and Process Basic Channel



"Quadrant Dub I (Part 1)"