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Volta is Björk’s most accessible album since Vespertine. The far-out ingredients on Medulla and the Drawing Restraint soundtrack are poured into song structures with beats underneath. It’s the best of both worlds, really. For my complete review, go here.
This compiles two soundtrack recordings by the iconic minimalist. A lot of his stuff has been reissued lately, and that’s a good thing, but which one should a neophyte get as an introduction? Well, maybe this one, because not only is the music fine, the sound and production are too, and with Riley that’s often not been so. Les Yeux Fermes (The Closed Eyes), from 1972, has two sections, “Journey from the Death of a Friend” and “Happy Ending,” each about 18-1/2 minutes. At times, these recall Krautrock, but (even though he’s overdubbing) they feel more organic, sometimes even jazzy, in their repetitions as Riley stacks soprano sax and keyboards. Lifespan is a varied set of six tracks. The opening “G Song” is nearly poppy in its sunny melodicism. Most stunning is “In the Summer,” mixing organ drones, burbling electronic sequences, and Riley’s weathered wordless vocal into an intoxicating concoction. To call this music hypnotic barely begins to describe its sensual power.
Japan’s finest return with another aural assault, their first album of new material in four years – now with added theremin! My review’s here.
This monumental fifty-minute work (longer than the combined length of this Polish composer’s first two quartets) was written in 1995 but then withheld for a decade. That this masterpiece was finally recorded and released is welcome news. I rhapsodize over it here.
Of all the lads England’s sent over lately with raging hormones and jangling guitars, it’s Maximo Park who write the catchiest songs. They follow up their outstanding 2005 debut album, A Certain Trigger, by polishing their sound with the help of producer Gil Norton, filling out their sound with greater presence, keyboards, and even strings. It still sounds like they worship at the altar of Eighties England (Jam, Smiths), and the keyboards don’t contradict that period. Besides guitar hooks galore, this band features a great vocal sound (take a bow, Paul Smith) and witty lyrics. And now, as they mature, their best songs aren’t all passionate headlong rushes; the occasional mid-tempo track sparkles as well. Still, it’s their energy that captivates, and with their bigger sound they’re quite the Britpop juggernaut.
This Sound Fix fave rocked an in-store a few years back, making such a racket I couldn’t believe it was just two people. But you never know what Mary Timony is going to show up – the airy-fairy Mary, the punk rocker, or something in-between. This time out, she sounds like an ex-punk playing prog. Her punk energy still powers the songs, but occasionally some vintage synth sounds, plus cello on two tracks, add sonic coloring to the heavy riffing on what’s basically a power trio. Her vocals are less unhinged than last time out, more thoughtful-sounding, but still with an edge of aggression to match her often confrontational lyrics.
With vintage psychedelia a booming genre lately, and reissue labels looking to more and more obscure scenes for material, the late ‘60s/early ‘70s pop-psych that came out of Cambodia was documented on the compilation Cambodian Rocks (the most famous; there have been others with better documentation) and has found a lot of fans, including a bunch of guys in Los Angeles who formed a band playing that style. When they found an authentic Cambodian pop star living in L.A., Chhom Nimol (who sings mostly in Khmer, though she essays some English on this album), who agreed to be their vocalist, they went from an amusing idea to a thrilling reality. When they moved from all covers to, on this disc, mostly originals (the exception being the Ros Serey Sothea classic “Tip My Canoe”) with Ethiopian music added to the mix here and there, they became not just lovable but admirable, both fun and exciting.
This New York electronica/post-rock project (Adam Pierce and the occasional collaborator) continues its winning streak with another album of treated strums and tinkles, droney yet insistent slow grooves, gauzy production, and laidback vocals. Yes, the vocals are here to stay, and the songwriting’s getting more formal – soon Mice Parade may not even be post-rock, just rock. No matter, Pierce’s low-key creations continue to charm. Most of the singing is Pierce, but Múm’s Kristin Anna Valtysdottir contributes her breathy, childlike singing to one track, and Stereolab’s Laetitia Sadier adds her cool tones to another.
Electrelane got fairly radical in its sonic explorations last time out. This album is much more song-oriented. There’s a psychedelic tinge at times, a bit of motorik at others, but sheer beauty of sound comes to the fore, as on the lovely “In Berlin,” complete with ravishing vocal harmonies. That’s not to say that they don’t often achieve an exhilarating momentum. Some instrumentals play up the Krautrock flavor on an album with enough variety to provide a good sense of Electrelane’s range (even if not all the facets of their music can be crammed onto one disc) but also cohere better than some of their past albums.
Yes, this is the semi-supergroup known simply as The Brakes in its native U.K. Eamon Hamilton (British Sea Power) and friends unleash another concise disc (11 songs in 32 minutes) full of smartass lyrics (the dance parody “Spring Chicken” includes the dance command “Come on over, do the Terrorist”) and snotty vocals. Sometimes it’s like a punky Brit Pixies (Hamilton can sound a lot like Black Francis when he wants to), but contrasted with many gleeful sidesteps into country rock – sometimes smirking, occasionally sincere! “Mobile Communication” manages to alternate organ-powered Southern rock with Pixies power chords and sound not silly, but party-ready. Here and there some political observations are dropped in, and the title track is a sweet love song – perhaps Hamilton’s starting to see this not as an amusing side project, but a full-fledged band to be taken seriously, though not too seriously of course.