Siberian Breaks

Rarely has something so disturbing been so endearing.

EDIT This video has been removed due to copyright, so you can watch it here.

Surfin' In Memphis

Sure, it is stupid to say a thing like “If it makes you sad, it’s bad music”. But it would be really sad for people to judge Magic Kids solely on the basis of that line. For while we might disagree with their way of thinking, we can hardly disagree that the Beach Boys-scented Memphis band’sHey Boy is so adorable it should replace the world ‘adorable’ in the dictionary.

Their debut album, Memphis, on the other hand, tries to become the official synonym for ‘sugar-coated’. It’s all harmonies and choirs, chimes and oooh-ooohs, guitars and vocals that should be tagged as ‘not suitable for diabetics’. It calls for breezy sunny days, soft rain drops falling on your head, blissfully cool summer nights. Hey Boy is a pop gem like few: the boys’ choir, backing vocals, the crescendos, that very moment when they slow the pace and all you can hear are wooo-hooos and chimes, the explosion of the chorus. Good To Be is insanely catchy, every second making it impossible for you not to sing along. Sailin, Candy and Phone sparkle with pop perfection and heavy 60s goodness as if recorded to fit the Boat That Rocked soundtrack.

But no matter how much you love the bubbles that surround Magic Kids, it is all too tiresome. Interest fades, the lack of sound evolution or significant variations makes for a desire to press next. Too much of the sweetness almost makes you sick and you do end up wishing Magic Kidswould forget, at least for a second, that sad music is bad. A little angst hidden amongst the mountains of sugar canes and darkness in the layers of cotton candy would’ve made Memphis a lovely debut. In its true shape, it is a debut that makes you wish these kids would grow up a bit and discover new playgrounds.

E's Trilogy Came To An End

They say it's something magical about number three. Now, I can't tell if Eels (or Mark Everett, if you prefer it that way) had that in mind when he decided to release Hombre Lobo back in 2009, but this is rather irrelevant. Thing is the trilogy, started with that album and continued in January with End Times, has finally come to an end with Tomorrow Morning.

Now, one could expect a new collection of stories about sadness, depression and stuff like that, but even the cover (which represents a blossomed tree) proves it wrong. Hombre Lobo was about desire and unrequited love, End Times was about separation and aging. Tomorrow Morning is about love and its beauty. Of course, at first sight this might be unbelievable (in spite of the cover, or maybe just because of it) and listening to the first song, In Gratitude for This actually makes you believe it. However, Everett corrects the first impression in I'm a Hummingbird, by pening the lines "All the seconds and minutes and the hours and the days and the weeks and the months and the years of my life, it was all worth it to be here now". Happiness, you say? It might be called so. And E seems as puzzled by that as the listener when he sings "But baby loves me and she's smarter than you".

Lyrically, the album is a true celebration of love. Of course, that implies a glorification of the person who stands beside you (Spectacular Girl), a somewhat raised self-confidence (I Am the Man) as well as hope for a better, brighter future (I Like the Way This Is Going). But things can't be happy until the end (or else Everett wouldn't be Everett any longer) and that's why at times you can read between the lines the fear that everything might end. Musical wise, things couldn't be any better. Put his lyrics aside, E is best known for his love for instruments. The album is a delightful melange of acoustic guitars and electronic beats, of dreamy, ethereal ballads like I'm a Hummingbird or What I Have to Offer and catchy songs like Baby Loves Me. It even makes you regret at times that the man can't play more instruments at the same time in a live concert. That good he is.


It is not wrong to say Tomorrow Morning is a must. It does not exactly goes on the path Eels got us used to, but it is nevertheless a wonderful release, of which Everett should and must be proud of.


*photo courtesy of Eels' official site

At War With The Mystics

Every news about Surfing The Void must’ve had the “highly anticipated” in it, referring to the sophomore Klaxons album. And why not admit to it? We’ve all been biting our nails and praying it would leak faster. That there would be no news saying the album’s release is being delayed once more. And it’s not just the people who know Myths Of The Near Future by heart and cried along with the four Brits when the debut won the Mercury award. It’s just about anyone who knows just how talked about were Klaxons when they came along with the glowsticks and absurd William Burroughs-inspired lyrics.

Naturally, some will compare the two albums, Myths and Surfing, and maybe even throw some “just as good” or “I’m losing faith in them”. But there is no point. In recent interviews, Klaxons sound like different people. Indeed, everything post-Myths should show how it is no longer the pranksters who wrote and recorded a rave album we are talking about. They still are fucking insane, rest assured. But they are walking a different path and the music they make no longer feels immensely hedonistic like the Myths songs.

Just as naturally, there are things that stay the same. Never have Klaxons written intelligible lyrics. Never have the words to their sound been easy to understand. Just as cryptic as ever, they make Burroughs just as proud and the rest of us feel sorry these guys do not have plans for some dysptopic novel in the vein of JG Ballard’s Atrocity Exhibition. Just as easily as before, the four put the craziest of lyrics in your mouth, making them sound like the lines of your latest pop hit. The very combination that made Klaxons so popular to start with, the out-of-this-world chaotic lyrics and the incredibly catchy tunes, is ever-present and leaves little doubt to whether Surfing will be just as of an unlikely hit as Myths. It also sure feels like the new album is an extent to their song Four Horsemen of 2012 and it is clear their interest in the end of the world in no new thing.

But you know Surfing The Void is a completely different beast as soon as the heavy bass lines of Echoes hit you. Many were fearful of this release due to words that Polydor wanted something more pop. Yet, the record is hard to take in after one bite. Produced by Ross Robinson (responsible for producing albums for Korn and At The Drive-In), there seems to be so much going here and each second feels the space around you like glowsticks used to at the band’s first concerts. Guitars swirl like there is no tomorrow. Industrial sounds bounce back and forth and scratch your brains. Steffan Halperin’s blasting drums lead the way most of the times and it feels just right.

The title-track feels insanely claustrophobic, the chaos of the melody and the screams remind you of the long gone days of Atlantis To Interzone. Just that now paranoia takes hold of everything and all that lies ahead is suffocation. Extra Astronomical feels like a hit over the head with a hammer because of its dense industrial guitars, the menacing two notes riff and the rapid drums. Vortex-like Cyberspeed gives the impression Simon Taylor-Davies has been playing guitar with a drill, the menacing distorts creep out of the speakers while the vocals are buried deeper into the mechanical instrumental. Like Isle Of Her could’ve been a love song in disguise, so can Autotune-scented psychedelic love story The Same Space be the soundtrack of a Sci-fi film.

But the claustrophobia is lifted at times. Echoes with its guitar solo, focused melody, the chorus that comes in after one minute, its Muse-scent is quite obviously the album’s single and the one to feel in the shoes of Golden Skans. It’s not the only one, mind you. The prog-pop and slow pace of Twin Flames is a catchy as Klaxons can get. While most of the other tracks have joint cyborg-like vocals or mostly Jamie Reynolds’s airy voice, on this one it’s James Righton who lends his pop star coolness to the whole song. Future Memories, its space-out piano and soulful vocals, the way the bass builds tension promise to swiftly become part of the mainstream conscience.

And, with every listen, it becomes blatant Surfing The Void is a shamelessly fantastic release. There is all of the Klaxons we love here: pop sensibility, sheer madness, tale of strange worlds, impeccable song-writing. Psychedelia they promised and they do deliver: each layer of sound probably makes a whole lot more sense on ayahuasca (the hallucinogen they claim to have been ingesting – with Klaxons one can never be sure of the truth). But it is still a wonderful way to wrack your brain while trying to make sense of Surfing The Void.

Once More With A Lot Of Feeling

Whoever hears the name Ra Ra Riot for the first time might think at a punk rock/fuck-the-system band. However, things aren't what they seem. Ra Ra Riot have already been around for four years and a half, and one might say they specialised until now in writing indie pop songs, that are catchy without necessarily having the happy-happy-joy-joy sound. And this is not a surprise, considering the tragedy that happened before the release of their debut album (the death of their drummer).

Their new record, The Orchard, is a celebration of love in all of its aspects. At this moment, the word "ballad" would most likely cross the mind of many of you - and you'd be right. On their new album, the sound became more gentle and less claustrophobic. Just as in real life, time seems to heal wounds.

If it's true that every band must have a certain something meant to make a difference, then in Ra Ra Riot's case that certain something is for sure represented by the immersion of orchestral sounds. This is proven especially on the band's first single, Too Dramatic, which is basically the kind of song that enters your mind right after the first listen and sticks with you - violin and cello never sounded more energetic and fresh. Same sensation is given by Boy, with its interesting bass line, which might make some of you regret you're not in a rock band.

These are the most energetic tracks on the album, but that does not make the rest of them sound like they are from a different (and boring) movie. It's true, there are a few moments when the sound becomes a bit monotone (see Massachusetts), but that does not make you change your mind about the whole record. Especially when the band makes unexpected moves - an example is You And I Know, on which cellist Alexandra Lawn replaces Wes Miles on vocals, giving the song a plus of tenderness and making it one of the best tracks on the album.

To put it simple, The Orchard might not have the sparkling of The Rhumb Line, but it is without a doubt a good release and a pleasant listening, enough to make you want to keep an eye on them in the future.


*photo courtesy of Ra Ra Riot's official site

!!! Is In The House

!!! are the one supreme hipster band. And it’s not just the impossible to pronounce name. No, it’s also the detached (self) irony, the (uber) bored voice, the Studio 54 flair, the song titles like All My Heroes Are Weirdos. But with every album, !!! have proven they are also one of the best bands out there, that they are worth every ounce of love, that they are true artists making art that gets people grooving. In their all-too-loved style, the New Yorkers tell us it’s high time we filled every corner of that 70s retro bar and dance like there is no tomorrow via their newest album, Strange Weather, Isn’t It?

Which is, without doubt, a 100% !!! album. Nic Offer’s songwriting is just as irreverent as always. He still seems just as sarcastic singing about random things. He says it’s a good thing. But it’s a good thing he likes being alone and you can’t help but wonder if he isn’t throwing it in your face just like that, reminding you what an ass you are. His voice, his bored voice, might be out of tone or flat at times. It is still one of the funkiest out there. The female vocals swing and swag, making each song more soulful, adding a Groove Is In The House air to Wannagain Wannagain and turning Steady As The Sidewalk Cracks into Hearts Of Hearts little but really badass sister. And hell yeah, Anita Ward must be really jealous of these kids.

By now, it is indeed obvious !!! have their trademark sound. Strange Weather is the band we’ve all been loving for so long. But their ready-for-the-dancefloor sound is more than just some guitars and funky vocals. It’s also the saxophones that are used without a shred of irony and that are by no means a faux-pas in !!! land. The fuzzy guitars that are not afraid to bounce back and forth. The naughty bass line that feels each song with tones of sexuality. The way Even Judas Gave Jesus A Kiss and The Hammer are pieces of heavy sonic experimentation and still make you groove on your chair and pray that the DJ in your local bar will play this the next time you go there.

What’s more important about Strange Weather, Isn’t It? is that it is a solid album, not one moment that might let you down, bored you or make you want to skip the track. It’s the kind of album that you can’t help but play head to bottom and groove under imagined strobe lights. And while !!! don’t really need to prove the world anything, at least not after 2007’s Myth Takes, it sure feels great to hear them trying to convince you once more Studio 54 is not dead.

Rambling Duo

Isobel Campbell must hate always hearing how weird it is for her to work with Mark Lanegan. How peculiar that her post Belle & Sebastian career is all bluesy Americana and no twee Scottish pop. How this particular Scottish blonde get to collaborate with the taciturn American. And how it works surprisingly well. How people are still amased at the fluency of their music even if the duo has worked together for three albums.

Like she said it in an interview last week, it just works. There is a certain chemistry that is hard to put into words, to describe, to deconstruct. The first two albums, while maybe not perfect, gently let you know this. The duo’s third studio recording, Hawk, is not afraid to repeat it: herein lies a bond that few people can achieve. There is no such thing as pushing it, as trying too hard to write songs for the both of them. Effortless is what defines this album and, as a matter of fact, the duo’s entire work. It’s like they were in fact different faces of the same person. Lanegan’s rough bluesy voice and Campbell’s nightingale one exist to complete each other. There is no war of egos, no schizoid songs or different artistic approaches. Just a blissful union of two songwriters, an intimacy that seems out of this world.

It is hard to argue that Campbell and Lanegan are at their best when they craft breezy, sensual musical pieces. When they write about the troubles of the heart and wayward men. The softly sang To Hell & Back Again and No Place To Fall (“I’m not much of a lover, that’s true” muses Lanegan) are instant attention grabbers in a sea of beauty. But here, on Hawk, the two show where rockabilly can take them: Get Behind Me and Hawk recall of long highway drives and smoky Southern bars.

While there is no denying Hawk is an overall beautiful album, it has its flaws: it requires a certain mood when listening to the record, it is a bit too homogenous and, at times, a bit too forgettable. But it is serves its purpose just right. It reminds everyone that Campbell and Lanegan were always meant to work together and their artistic union should be no surprise to others.

Do You Like Boris?

Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin should be quite of a political band. Cause a scene, protest in front of the White House, ask for the demolition of Wall Street, things like these. But SSLYBY’s area of interest seemed to be a bit different: girls and their lips, love’s sweet torments and the pains of the heart. Five years on from their breezy self-released debut Broom and two after the exquisite Pershing, the Russian president’s fans return with an album that seems to follow the lines of the band’s previous recordings but takes it a step further.

Let It Sway is like a soft spring breeze, the sun on an April morning: handclaps gently tickle the hazy guitars and rapid drums while the seemingly dissonant voice wraps itself around your heart. There is also plenty of immersion into mid-90s American alternative: the excellent Banned (By The Man) and the semi-schizoid part mellow loveliness part blasting guitars and echo-y vocals Back In The Saddle are not just mere tracks, but a fully fledged time machines. And there are two-tone hints like the bass lines on In Pairs or jumping drums of My Terrible Personality or punk-meets-Americana outburst like the potentially concert favourite Critical Drain.

There are, as a matter of fact, many notes, chords and keys SSLYBY take from the past and glue them so closely together it’s hard to figure out where you’ve heard it before. Fortunately, songs like the bubbly Evelyn or the piano-kissed (future-Michael-Cera-movie-title) Stuart Gets Lost Dans Le Metro are moments when the glue is made of sheer and utter brilliance. Unfortunately, there are times when the four piece fails to create something remarkable. No, by no means is any of their songs sonically disturbing. Just that, on a first listen the likes of Animalkind say almost nothing to the listener and gently slip from the memory as the last notes of the songs are played.

But as proof SSLYBY are worthy of the indie front lines, the moments when the album drags seem too short and are easy to ignore. No need to fret, no need to despair. Those flaws exist to remind us SSLYBY are only human and they too can err. After all, it would be awfully depressing to listen to an album that has only airwave perfection like Cardinal Rules, wouldn’t it?

She Don't Care About Any Of That

Grinderman are here competing for the most random video of 2010. Hallefuckinglujah

P.S.: The tache owns. End of.

Infinite Zest

Youth is not to be easily dismissed. While some might laugh and throw an “Ah, but you are still young”, it is nothing short of obvious youth is something many chase. Indeed, Sky Larkin are young and one could think it comes naturally for these 20-plus-year-olds. But they way they craft their songs make it crystal clear few can do this. The zest of careless days is ever present in their melodies and the three Leeds natives make it seem so effortless one can but crave to be at least for a day like them.

Their latest album, Kaleide, is just another burst of energy. Irreverent and with a flair of the long lost 90s American alternative (well, maybe not that lost), Kaleide does not wish to be a wise-beyond-its-age album. It throws itself in your face and takes you back to the nights when you were still a teenager (including the heartaches, not just the fun). The rapid guitars, sneaky distorts and Casio keyboards shamelessly creep around you and remind you that sometimes even more than three chords, make for on hell of a punk recording. It is, one could rightfully say, the rebirth of grunge but on British land. Their love for female bands like Sleater-Kinney is ever present. The heavy drums and Katie Harkin’s voice stand as proof that the Olympia-trio is reincarnated into Sky Larkin.

Like fellow Brits Johnny Foreigner, Sky Larkin have always had a great pop sensibility: their songs seem to be instant hit in Indieland. The Foals-scented Year Dot with its computer game feel, the sun-kissed metal-infused Spooktacular with its obsessive chorus, the ecstatic Stay Windmills with its crescendos, all are meant to be festival anthems, musical tour-de-forces that should not be known be a handful of people and should grace radio waves.

Kaleide is by no means a surprise to those who know Sky Larkin’s previous output, but it makes for a great listen. Sky Larkin are slowly growing up and evolving while staying true to themselves and to their now trademark sound. This album is not supposed to raise eyebrows. What Kaleide is here for is to tell us to keep our eyes on the guys and never forget just what a wonderful band they are.

The Taste Of Dance

There should be no surprise Wild Beasts and their haunting Two Dancers are up for the much desired Barclaycard Mercury Prize. The four Brits are a shameless bunch. They dazzle you with their music, they show you their magical world, they creep into your soul and make you forget all about the other bands you’ve ever heard. They simply turn into your favourite band after just one guitar chord. There should also be no surprise We’ve Still Got The Taste Dancing On Our Tongues was chosen as a new single.

Perfectly stylish like a Tom Ford film, it sparkles with its understated guitar riff. As if an homage to Clockwork Orange (“Us kids are cold and cagey rattling around the town/ Scaring the oldies into their dressing gowns”), it calls all arms to a night of debauchery. Through The Iron Gate drips sexuality. Hayden Thorpe’s neurotic vocals and the steady drums, the way the melody tangles around you brain, they all throw you into a dark world of back alleys and striking loneliness, of grey faces and resentment. The acoustic version of Devil’s Crayon only helps add to the beauty of the song: the studied urgency of the original is replaced by a soft guitar that twitches under the spell of the song’s words. The remix for Two Dancer II done by producer Jon Hopkins is also nothing to be ashamed of: its heavy electro beats do not take away anything of the song’s mystery or grace. They but make it even more haunting, a song between to worlds, those of the dancefloor and of bedroom meditation.

As expected, this EP it is a masterful release: what could be bad about it? It is just a reminder that one should love the art-rockers and never give their hearts away to false idols.

Days Of Summer

Nostalgia for the unremembered 80s, James Murphy used to bitch about it. David Vandervelde is pretty nostalgic about stuff (yes, stuff as in far too many things all together in the same jar). Not the 80s, though maybe he hangs around those things as well. T.Rex, stoners, limited vinyl releases, stuff like that. So there should be no shock that his Summer Hits EP is released as a 300-copies only vinyl format.

The four songs may not be new, but summertime pop genius drips from every second of these songs and makes it natural for this EP to be released now. The mantra-like Learn How to Hang seems to be Arcade Fire at double speed, with its exhilarating guitars, Casio-keyboards and twinkles and rapid hand claps. The T.Rex-scented Wave Country seems to be made out of explosions of sun: the fuzz, the guitar riffs, the metallic drums are all part of this finger-licking pop gem. The ghost of Marc Bolan is summoned once again by the insane glam-rock bluesy riff that opens Checkin’ Out My Baby. But there’s also the catchy vocals and stomping drums that make it such a perfect song for dancing your night away. Like the last song, Fancy Friends, and its high-spirited piano, it begs for numerous plays, it asks you to never let is go.

Summer Hits might not be all that new with all the four songs having been released digitally a while ago. But it’s an EP made out of instant classics and ear candy alone, four strong songs that almost yell how Vandervelde has that gift of crafting unforgettable music in his veins.

The Meaning Of Change

Probably one of the major problems of every band in the universe is how to reinvent their music on each of their albums and, at the same time, keep their specific style. It is a must, indeed. No one wants to record the debut album over and over again (or at least, almost no one). It is also a difficult task, because change is not always for the best. And when it comes about a happy-happy-joy-joy band like Shapes and Sizes, one of the solutions is to put the happiness aside for a moment. Using a metaphor, sometimes you just have to turn off the lights and light candles instead. And this is what they did on their lastest release, Candle To Your Eye.

The change can be felt right from the first track, and I'm talking about Caila Thompson-Hanant's voice. You can almost picture her winking and saying "You knew I was good, but you had no idea that I can be that good, right?" Throw in Rory Seydel's almost androgynous vocals and the things are set. No more words needed.

Instrumentally speaking, it seems they really took seriously their desire to change things by turning to a more meditative and, in certain aspects, elaborated sound. A few highlights: the rhythmic drum sound from Tell Your Mum added to short and intense guitar riffs and dreamy piano sounds is a big yes. Another must is Too Late For Dancing. With its teasing dreams, ethereal vocals and guitar sounds it turns into one of those songs that is erotic by default, while Old Worlds' tribal beats and oddly keyboard sounds are simply dazzling, and you cannot help but love it.

There's a lot to say about the other songs as well, but no word is better than the actual listening, and certainly a list of superlatives is futile. On this album, Shapes and Sizes manage to prove that they are one of those bands that know how to change their sound, but remain themselves at the same time. Good job.


*photo courtesy of Asthmatic Kitty official site

There Is No Such Thing As Magic

For two or three songs (I’m inclined to think two is the correct number but my memory keeps playing tricks on me), The Magic Numbers were fun. Not intellectually or musically challenging. No, those are big words and the band’s music was not made for such great words. But those sweet love songs (all I seem to remember about them, not name or how the chorus was) were fun. Yes, I am aware that anytime I can search the internet, a simple click on Lastfm or Youtube and refresh the memory of those songs. Trouble is there is nothing the makes me want to, just like there was nothing that made me want to hear any other The Magic Numbers songs. Of course, back when they still had a debut album, I did listen to it. Trouble was it was bland enough to make me forget about the four Brits.

Trouble is their new album, The Runaway, convinced me I did nothing wrong when I chose to do so. Being nice and sweet is all ok but The Magic Numbers abuse these two things to the point where it’s nauseating. And boring. Really boring. They once in a while try something like a bit of psychedelia or a heavier beat as if trying to get closer to the esthetics of bands like Sons and Daughters but too little and they do it as if forced by someone. But it’s Romeo Stodart’s voice that ruins it all and gets on your nerves. Too eager to show all the pains of love, too common, too bland, too lo-fi.

Trouble is it could’ve been a really nice album, the kind that calls for a quiet day. Its major problems are not the instrumentals. Not even the fact that the crescendos of Sound of Something or strings on Dreams Of A Revelation are so cheesy you feel embarrassed they wrote such a song. Or that The Song That No One Knows is so early 90s boy band ballad. Its major problem is its inconsistency. Its major problem is that is gives you a hint of what The Magic Numbers could do if only Romeo would step down and let the girls sing. Among all the bad ideas that become songs, Throwing My Heart Away shines so bright with its female vocals and Camera Obscura feeling. In fact, it is here and on Why Did You Call?, when The Magic Numbers drop off the folk pretense and embrace pop and little hints of electro pop, that they make remarkable songs, with real emotions. Why Did You Call? is the only moment when Romeo’s hushed vocals work so well with the rest of the instruments, the vocals themselves used as a instrument, softly complementing the gentle guitars and drums.

Trouble is The Runaway is a major hit-and-miss. Almost every song has a certain potential but is ruined somewhere, somehow and, if we were to be truthful, it’s hard to listen to them tops to bottom without pressing the next button. Trouble is The Magic Numbers did waste everyone’s time with releasing a whole album and not just an EP with the only album stand-outs. It would’ve allowed those songs to not get lost amongst bland pieces of music and helped more people discover them and their beauty.

Evil And A Heathen

There should be little doubt about how biased I am as I am writing this. “Highly” is an understatement.

Grinderman – Heathen Child

I am pretty convinced Nick Cave needs but breath and everything that comes in contact with his carbon dioxide becomes pure genius. Heathen Child was blessed with far more than Cave’s breath, so prepare to forget about Christ, Buddha and Krishna. Cave graces each second of this dirty sultry blues, each of Warren Ellis’s epically insane guitar riff with his part prophet part madman voice, with his story that might as well be turned into a novel like the Faulkner-scented And The Ass Saw The Angel. The album, Grinderman 2, is to be released on the 13^th of September and, be damn sure, there will be a very biased review up on this blog.

The Twilight Sad – Throw Yourself In The Water Again

The band’s upcoming EP, The Wrong Car, should be here as a whole, there is no denying. Both songs are fantastic and the remixes (one by Mogwai and one by Errors) are wonderful reworks of the original Forget The Night Ahead tracks. So why this particular track? Because of the paranoia the swirls of guitars voice each moment. Because of the way the pounding drums kick in the song biting hard into the air. Because of the distorted vocals the get lost in the web of the melody. Because of the way the instrumental fades when James Graham almost shouts “And I’m dancing over your grave”. Because of the sonic blast that follows that very moment. And, because, after all this, Throw Yourself… proves to be an insanely catchy song, the kind that follows you around all day, quietly playing itself in the back of your head.