Archive for March, 2008

James Rabbit @ Arlene’s Grocery 3/28/2008
Lions Of Love –> “The Fucking Universe” and “Light Green Light” / George Gershwin / Red, Blue, Violet / Monsoon / Did You Tie Me Up Or Down? / Welcome Back / In Love With The Idea / Count On Me / Lions Of Love –> Options

James Rabbit “George Gershwin” (Live in session for Fair Game, 3/25/08) –

1. I wouldn’t have ever guessed this from listening to his albums with James Rabbit, but in live performance, Tyler Martin is actually quite a lot like Stephen Malkmus back when he was in Pavement. He’s constantly playing around — switching up his phrasing, altering his lyrics, and purposefully throwing musical curveballs at his band mates. He sounds totally alive in his music, and he seems far more interested in expression and inspiration than perfection. Just like Pavement, he and his band are capable of hitting upon a fantastic balance of craft and chaos.

2. Here’s another comparison that works: Tyler is a lot like Stuart Murdoch of Belle & Sebastian, at least in the sense that even though his band is largely a showcase for his talents, he insists upon prominently featuring the voices and musical contributions of his friends. (Spencer Owen’s tune “Did You Tie Me Up Or Down?” isn’t even a James Rabbit song, Tyler just wanted to include one of his friend’s compositions in the set.) Though Tyler’s voice is the most compelling, the interaction of the voices is key to the band’s appeal, particularly on the Coloratura songs that highlight the individual’s place in community, and the value of comradery. To continue this analogy, if Tyler is clearly the Murdoch of the band, Max Bennett-Parker is the Stevie Jackson, and Libby Hendon is the Sarah Martin.

3. Most obviously, Tyler Martin is like Bob Pollard circa the early 90s. He’s been writing and releasing songs into the void for years, and he’s more interested in creating his own reality than entering into an indie culture that must seem awfully dull and monochromatic compared to the lovely little bohemian subculture that they are a part of in Santa Cruz. I want them to tour, I want them to be well known, I want very badly for them to get the passionate cult audience they deserve, but at the same time, I kinda don’t blame them if they’d rather not step out of their own little world. It seems so nice where they are, you know?

(Click here to buy Coloratura, one of the best albums you are most likely sleeping on, via the James Rabbit site.)

Planningtorock “Think That Thought” (Stringed Up Version) – I’m not usually a person who privileges acoustic instruments over synthesizers (it’s often the other way around), but this new string-based arrangement can’t help but to make the album version sound like a home demo. The album recording compensates for its thin fakey string sound with a pleasing backing vocal that answers and counters the lead, but it’s just nowhere near as elegant. Whereas the song had been a bit lost in a track that called attention to its artifice, the string arrangement doesn’t burden it with nearly as much context. In addition to the removal of the second vocal and its attendant responsive lyrics, there’s a shift in pronouns in the first verse that completely changes the meaning of the song. In the first version, she sings about trying to dig beyond her conscious mind to uncover what is truly motivating her, and recognizing the resulting echo chamber in her brain: “When I think about that thought, that thought thinks about me.”

In this take, the lyric shifts ever so slightly outside of herself, as she attempts to predict and understand the thoughts of someone else while unable to shake off the tainted filter of her own perceptions. The song becomes much sweeter, and the low key pizzicato and breezy melodies echo that sentiment while also mimicing the fluid tangle of notions and motivations within a mind.

Another great thing about this arrangement is that in cutting out some clutter, it highlights what an amazing Led Zeppelin song this would have been. Seriously, just listen to this and think about how it would have sounded if performed by Houses of the Holy-era Led Zep. She comes a bit close to Robert Plant vocalization already, but the instrumental parts definitely seem like something Jimmy Page and John Paul Jones would have written around that time. (Click here to buy it from iTunes. Originally posted on September 25, 2006)

Hank “You Are The Child Of Betrayal” – Though the new EP by Hank may lack the lo-fi “wait, was this recorded live at some crazy party in a basement someplace?” quality of their How To Prosper In The Coming Bad Years album, the songs remain spare, concise, and catchy, with an emphasis on contrasting Cab Williamson’s deep, droll monotone with the expressive voices of his female band mates. “You Are The Child Of Betrayal” is a grim title, but the song itself is rather optimistic. The singer seems a bit surprised by her own happiness and good fortune, and though she’s calling up her friends to let them know, she’s obviously a bit worried that she’s about to jinx herself. I especially love the way her voice pitches up slightly each time she sings the word “up” (as in “things are looking up!”), conveying an excitement and enthusiasm tempered by doubt and cynicism. (Click here for the Hank MySpace page. Originally posted November 8th, 2007)

The Childballads “Stewart Hassle” (Live in session for Fair Game) – Stewart Lupton has a new strategy: He’s writing new lyrics upon the foundations of respected classics, which is both supremely ballsy, and in line with the folk tradition. “Stewart Hassle” is his variation on Lou Reed’s epic “Street Hassle.” In this recording, he transposes its main theme to acoustic guitar, and replaces Reeds’ “great monologue set to rock” with a personal story about a homecoming, a reckoning, and a lost love. Lupton’s words are stark and colloquial, and linger in a place halfway between wisdom and regret. At the core, it’s a song about wounded pride — Lupton sounds genuinely embarrassed at certain moments, particularly when he explains “I did some things out in the streets / and some things were done to me / and the scariest thing / is just how it looked / the same as it does on the tv.” Throughout, he clings to the remnants of his dignity, and does his best to put his worst days into perspective, but in the end, the most gutting sentiment is expressed with only a slight modification of Reed’s words — “Love has gone away / it’s stripped the rings from my fingers / and there’s nothing left to say / except that I miss you, baby.” (Click here for the Childballads MySpace page. The full session will be available from Fair Game soon.)

Elsewhere: Did you ever think the Beatles invented music? I do! AND I TALK ABOUT IT EVERY NIGHT!

Girls Aloud “Hoxton Heroes” – In this song, Girls Aloud verbally eviscerate some conceited British indie musician, tearing into his privileged background, poor wardrobe, pathetic chart placements, and utter lack of tunes. In other words, it sounds like a Pop Justice blog post set to a particularly heavy Xenomania track. There’s just something so perfect about this — in part, it’s because it’s fun to hear them rip into these sort of dull, obnoxious post-Coldplay types, even if it’s done on entirely shallow and materialistic terms. Mostly, though, I just love that they’re putting out a song so squarely aimed at their most rabid fans on the internet. (Click here to buy it from Amazon UK.)

Also: James Rabbit will be playing two shows in New York City this week. They will be performing at Goodbye Blue Monday in Brooklyn tonight, and at Arlene’s Grocery on Friday night. I strongly recommend that you see them, especially if you are a fan of brightly colored fabrics and floral prints. They played a session for Fair Game last night, and it was rather joyous and magical. You’ll be hearing some of that soon enough.

Marybell Katastrophy “Slabiak” – There are moments in “Slabiak” that are so fully saturated with anxiety that the song pushes up to the edge of listenability. Those moments most often come just seconds before the shift into the chorus, a section that is no less agitated, but offers some sort of release in the form of an electronically manipulated vocal part that rises into an eerie high note that comes close to the sound of Karin Dreijer Andersson on the Knife’s Silent Shout album. Nevertheless, there’s not much room in the piece for feelings of relief — it’s basically an expression of a seemingly infinite emotional crisis, and any sense of peace just feeds its own frustration and confusion. (Click here to buy it via Marybell Katastrophy’s official site.)

We Are Scientists “That’s What Counts” – I’m not exactly sure what We Are Scientists were going for with this song, but it comes surprisingly close to sounding like mid-period Squeeze. If that’s deliberate, well, then good on them, I suppose. They were clearly going for some sort of ’80s romance here — I mean, c’mon, the song is mainly characterized by its smooth saxophone leads — and they are entirely successful in capturing something sort of relaxed, elegant, and mildly decadent, with just a tinge of melancholy and regret. It barely needs the lyrics to get across its sentiment — essentially, “hey, this fling was really nice in the moment, but this is obviously not a sustainable thing — but the words land with a gentle, conversational economy that suits the low key character of the piece. (Click here to buy it from Amazon UK.)

Janet Jackson “Rollercoaster” – Much of Janet Jackson’s music since the late ’90s suffers from the singer’s overcompensating exhibitionism. She’s told us — and showed us — so much about her kinks that the topic has become a total bore, especially as she made it the the focus of virtually everything she does, including her latest record. She’s still rebelling against her good girl image, and for what reason? Among her catalog of fantastic hits, the best always conveyed her sexuality in the context of sweet come-ons or full-hearted romance. I mean, for example, isn’t it so much better to fill-in in the blanks on a song like “Escapade” and surmise that she wants to take her boyfriend to some sort of fuck colony, instead of just flat-out singing “I want to take you to a fuck colony”? Subtext is a nice thing!

Unsurprisingly, the best song on Jackson’s new record Discipline is decidedly PG-13 in tone. “Rollercoaster” rides a subtly throbbing, slightly aloof Rodney Jerkins beat and sets a fairly standard “your love is like a rollercoaster” sentiment to a vocal melody that vacillates between a gentle coolness and a non-cloying sweetness. There’s a great deal of negative space in the track, and so the piece feels extremely light and smooth, like a musical approximation of soft-serve ice cream. The song doesn’t need to be coy — it’s open and sincere, like a good crushy pop tune ought to be, especially if it is being sung by Janet Jackson. (Click here to buy it from Amazon.)

Adam Green “Twee Twee Dee” – I think Adam Green gets a real kick out of making the listener constantly doubt his sincerity, and contend with the bizarre, sometimes incomprehensible mixture of over-the-top irony and genuine feeling in his songs. The baritone crooner shtick works very well for him — it provides the songs a soupy sort of comfort, and it puts him in a context we already know relies upon a balance of high production values and syrupy sentimentality. No one expects anyone performing in this style to be entirely sincere, and so Green takes some of the guess work out for the listener, while still leaving them on shaky ground. “Twee Twee Dee” is slick, relaxed, and groovy, but for every self-conscious cliche or odd non-sequitur, he sneaks in a bit of legit melancholy. The goofiness dials down the severity of the emotion, but that’s a good thing because a lot of the time, sadness is diluted by humor, good will, and the strange twists and turns of any given day. (Click here to buy it from Amazon.)

Meanwhile, on Fair Game: Bryan Lee O’Malley came on the show to talk about Scott Pilgrim!

The B-52’s “Hot Corner” – The B-52’s early classics were marked not only by the incredibly distinct sound of the band’s vocals, but also the specific, strange guitar style of the late Ricky Wilson. The band’s current guitarist and primary instrumental songwriter Keith Strickland can’t hope to compete with Wilson’s game, and so he pushes the group in another direction. He was the original drummer, and so it’s not too surprising that his approach is more brash and brawny. The results aren’t often in quite the same league as material from their classic period, but when it all clicks, as on “Hot Corner,” it’s absolutely marvelous, and not even just for a bunch of middle-aged people who haven’t made an album in 16 years. Essentially, it’s a pumped-up version of the group’s signature vocal and melodic style: Fred’s goofy, sly sprechstimme contrasted with Kate and Cindy’s bold, full-voiced harmonies. Lyrically, they are on separate pages — Fred’s busy describing the scene at the end of a late night dance party, but Kate is dressed up and ready to shimmy her way to the bus stop, eager to hit the road in pursuit of fun and action. It’s, uh, not exactly heavy stuff, but every moment is a thrill, and when she sings “don’t you know that I want you, baby?,” I just feel so so jealous of whoever she’s addressing. (Click here to buy it from Amazon.)

The Long Blondes “Guilt” – In the world of the Long Blondes, infidelity is an entirely inevitable by-product of all romantic and sexual relationships. There’s no trust and no illusions; just a steady belief that people are only loyal when they have no options, and that they will bolt or stray whenever they are offered the opportunity to either trade up or enter a relationship that flatters their ego. This cynicism was apparent on their previous album and run of singles, but it’s grown darker and deeper on “Couples.” Whereas Someone To Drive You Home was mainly comprised of songs in which Kate Jackson offered knowing advice to younger women, the new record finds her more confused and vulnerable, and less aggressive. She’s still a keen observer of human behavior, but her interpretations are skewed by paranoia, pessimism, loneliness, and distrust. In “Guilt,” she’s doing everything she can to break off an affair and remain true to her presumably clueless boyfriend, but every time she yields to temptation, she slips deeper into her delusion of righteousness. Like most everything on the record, the song is slinky and sexy, but also rather melancholy and aloof, which tips the listener off to the crucial subtext of the entire album: Jackson’s characters have become aware of their complicity in their own unhappiness. (Click here to buy it from Amazon.)

James Rabbit “Red, Blue, Violet” – This is a cheerful song, but it’s very restless. The singer is infatuated with a girl, but deeply frustrated because he can only advance his flirtation in fits and starts, so way too much of his time is spent anticipating the next move, the next step, the next possibility for total disaster. The song is barely even about her — it’s more about finding a way to kill the time when she’s not around. He alternates between a feeling of stasis and moments of sincere — though obsessive — inspiration. There’s a lot of romance and sweetness in Tyler Martin’s words, but the most affecting line is very simple and blunt: “I need to be near you, I need to be near you!” In another context, it’d be a pretty ordinary line, but here, the frustration has less to do with needy co-dependence, and everything to do with despising all the long, boring stretches between the good parts in life. (Click here to buy it from James Rabbit.)

Quando Quango “Love Tempo (Remix)” – The rap at the start is a bit pleading, but within a few seconds, the invitation to dance, make out, go out, whatever, becomes much more, well, inviting. The singer’s job in this song is to spell out his intentions, but the music handles all the expression, and conveys his generosity, sweetness, optimism, and good-natured excitement. There’s a lovely glow to this song that grows brighter as it moves along towards a climax that — lucky for us! — hits a few times over: “Heartbeats, heartbeats, heartbeats…a love tempo!” (Click here to buy it from Dance Tracks Digital.)

Black Francis “The Seus” – It’s such a pleasure to hear Black Francis indulge in his weirder impulses and vocal tics. He never gets up to a full scream in “The Seus,” but he he definitely sounds a bit unhinged in parts, particularly when he interrupts his own hook to shout the title or holler something like “it’s not mine!!!” The clever and amusing thing here is that he’s singing from the perspective of Theseus , but he’s inhabiting the musical form of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. In other words, he’s playing the Athenian warrior king as macho, swaggering, horny frat boy with just a touch of sensitivity and pathos when he goes off on a tangent about “going to the city to see my daddy” to prove that he’s a “big man.” It’s very funny, but still effective in conveying this thrilling alpha male arrogance and charisma. This shouldn’t come as much of a surprise, though — exploring warped masculinity has been Black Francis’ specialty since he was the leader of the Pixies. (Click here to buy it from Amazon.)

Destroyer “The State” –

Dear the Person Who Played Drums On “The State” By Destroyer,

I don’t mean to freak you out by getting all fanboyish, but for real, you’re totally awesome and I think you totally pushed “The State” to the next level. I mean, it would’ve been pretty swell without you, but I think it’s safe to say that it wouldn’t be my favorite song on Trouble In Dreams. Maybe “Leopard of Honor” or “Foam Hands” would take the top spot? Who knows. You probably made those songs better too, but I don’t have the album credits. I know nothing about you, it’s kinda embarrassing! Maybe you’re one of those classy drummers with the loose jazzy wrists; perhaps you’re a skinny indie rock boy with wiry arms; it could be that you’re one of those generic rock dudes who float from band to band for something to do, and you make intense faces as you beat the hell out of your snares. For some reason it is a little hard to imagine that Destroyer has a lady drummer, so I guess I can rule that out? (It would be cool if Destroyer had a lady drummer, though. No offense to you if you are indeed a man.)

Anyway, these are the things I know about you:

1) You give “The State” this feeling of shifting weight, which in effect makes the song sound like a drunken giant stumbling around and falling over and getting back up again.

2) You make Dan Bejar sound nervous, as though he’s constantly peering over his shoulder as if your snare hits are going to come after him.

3) Your snare hits are coming after him!

4) You give the song so much depth — you make it feel as though we’re falling through physical space in every dynamic shift.

5) This is especially true of the song’s climax from 2:17 to 2:40, which has the feeling of hitting the top of the roller coaster, and then zooming down the ramp.

So, yeah, you’re terrific. Thanks for everything! Keep on rockin’!

Sincerely yours,

Matthew

(Click here to buy it from Merge.)

Elsewhere: Pulp’s “Common People” presented as an Archie comic!

Meanwhile, on Fair Game: The Slits came by for a five-song session, and I talked to Faith about Madonna and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

Alphabeat “Fascination” – Alphabeat’s music has got very little to do with the real world. They are fantasists, and on their album, they’ve built a familiar and incredibly inviting alternate universe built from the scraps of teen movies, young adult novels, WB/CW tv shows, and several generations of pop hits. They’re the Josh Schwartzs of Euro pop; the creators of fully aware, exquisitely crafted escapist fluff that gains its power from its sincere appreciation of the idealized artifice and simplified narratives of pop storytelling. Alphabeat pretty much spell it out for you in the lyrics of “Fascination”: “Passion is our passion,” “We love this exaltation,” “We live on fascination.” In other words, they believe in magic, and they’re going to do everything they can to nudge their fantasies into reality. At the very least, they’ve made a nearly perfect album of songs that sound like a bright, colorful world of humor, beauty, extreme joy and drama, and the sort of sadness that can be reversed in the span of a single montage sequence. (Click here to buy it via Alphabeat.)

In Flagranti “Grand Central Shuttle” – If you’re not familiar, the Grand Central shuttle goes back and forth between Grand Central terminal and Times Square all day. (Well, actually, it doesn’t run late night, but you get the idea.) It looks and feels like a regular subway train, but it’s just hitting those same two stations over and over. It’s a fitting title for this song, which seems trapped in a similar loop of movement. More so, it seems to indicate an emotional snag that keeps a person from progressing beyond two points — a dull, eternal present, and a vaguely traumatic recent past. Every time we seem to get to some sort of resolution, we’re right back to the start. (Click here to buy it from Turntablelab.)

Trabant “I Love You Why?” – Outside of a particular strain of pop music, does anyone on earth actually pronounce “c’mon” as “sh’mon”? Maybe we should, and it ought to have a slightly different meaning. “Sh’mon” is more desperate, and considerably less assertive than a simple “c’mon.” It’s very appropriate for this song, which lingers in a lurching, incomplete groove that hovers around the general territory of sexiness, but can’t quite make contact. It’s all about the frustration of being sooooooooooo close, but not being able to make it happen, and not knowing who to blame. Maybe it’s her, maybe it’s you, maybe it’s everything. You’re definitely clueless, you don’t know how to read the signs, and you’re just stuck in a holding pattern. Why? (Click here to buy it from Amazon.)

Wild Beasts “Assembly” – Hayden Thorpe has one of the most bewildering voices in contemporary music, in part because he himself sounds utterly bewildered each time he opens his mouth. He comes across like a person who has somehow crossed over into a better, more romantic version of the world in which even the grime and the guts and the gore have a whimsy and charm that seem out of place, and out of time. Thorpe sounds particularly enthused on “Assembly,” a jaunty little romp that indulges in silly slapstick while painting a portrait of an eccentric stumbling through a decaying, decadent society. As with nearly all of their songs to date, the band hit upon a delicate, magical balance of elegance and shabbiness, especially as Thorpe’s voice wavers between masculine and feminine extremes like an old-timey hobo convinced that he’s Maria Callas. (Click here to buy it via the Wild Beasts official site.)

Be Your Own Pet “Becky” – Teenage girls break up their friendships every day, but somehow, it’s always the end of the world. Nevertheless, even though that sort of thing is very commonplace and fraught with ridiculous drama, the topic seems to be rather under-represented in pop songs. Be Your Own Pet run with the scenario, and play it for laughs by emphasizing the mundane details of high school life, and pushing the situation to a silly extreme by having the story play out as a bloody revenge fantasy. Jemina Pearl absolutely nails the tone — on one hand, she’s mocking this sort of overblown manufactured drama, and on the other, she is totally respecting the anger and the bitterness, and letting out some candy-colored bile. Her vocal performance is the center of the piece, but the song is made by the backing vocals of her male band mates, who shout the name “Becky” with a funny mix of anguish and frustrated rage. (Click here to buy it from Amazon.)

Meanwhile, on Fair Game: I recently convinced Andrew W.K. to write and record a new song based on a batshit insane bit of tape from the McLaughlin Group. It is extremely catchy and absurd, and you can download the track and listen to the segment in which Andrew presents the song to Faith right here.

Cadence Weapon “Tattoos and What They Really Feel Like” – “Am I talking about something else? Well, I usually am.” No kidding, Rollie. The song starts out sounding like it’s going to be all about tattoos, but really, that’s just a MacGuffin — this is really about emotional exhibitionism, and a desire to hold on to ephemeral pain. The guy spills his guts to his tattoo artist (“you’re a cheaper shrink and you put something on me”) even though he knows it’s an empty verbal exchange, and he’s just unloading on a stranger who isn’t equipped to do much more than put some kind of reminder drawn from his personal iconography on his flesh. It doesn’t take too long before Rollie says exactly what’s on his mind: He can’t get over some girl who doesn’t like him, and he’s simultaneously excited and repulsed by his desire to win over people who have rejected him. Maybe it’s the thrill of the chase, maybe it’s a narcissistic need for drama, maybe it’s a manifestation of self-loathing. It’s probably all of the above, and at the end, he knows it, and he sounds sick to his stomach. (Click here to buy it from Amazon.)

Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks “Elmo Delmo” – There’s something in Stephen Malkmus’ voice that keeps him from sounding morose, depressed, or even angry. His songs approach those feelings, but there’s something about his personality and the very sound of his voice that downsizes negative emotions or dilutes them, leaving just an insidious trace of fear, doubt, and longing. He sounds as if he can shrug off anything, and for all I know, he can. I’m not sure if I’d cast Malkmus as an optimist, per se, but he seems entirely incapable of approaching the worst in life without levity and perspective. This may be the root of why I identify with his music so completely — the subtle emotional gray scale of Malkmus’ body of work comes closer to feeling like my baseline state than any other music that I know.

Malkmus’ unflappable, well-adjusted everyman persona is exactly what makes “Elmo Delmo” one of the scariest pieces of music that he’s ever written. The song starts off sounding rather epic and heroic, with language and dynamic shifts that emphasize a sense of courage and strength, even when he’s talking about a purple puma and a meta grotto. That takes a turn after a few verses, when we finally get a sense of what he’s up against: “I’m one with the grid / it turns me into a double form / I risk dissociation at every turnpike.” Immediately after that reveal, the bottom drops out, and an extended instrumental passage takes us on a guided tour of the darker corners of our hero’s mind.

And then it begins: Elmo Delmo. Elmo Delmo. Elmo Delmo. Elmo Delmo. Elmo Delmo. Elmo Delmo. Elmo Delmo. It’s total gibberish, but it burns a hole in his skull, and the mindless repetition beats his brain to pulp. It’s the onset of madness, the break from reality. Elmo Delmo is a cute, cuddly abyss. The worst traps seem innocuous at first. In the end, he rebels. He pulls against the tide, and swears to seize his life from Elmo Delmo, and the song goes out on a fight, but there’s no resolution, just this ambiguous cliffhanger. (Click here to buy it from Buy Early Get Now. You’re kind of a fool if you buy this record any other way.)

The Kills “Cheap and Cheerful” – At first blush, the Kills seem like rock-oriented “fashion people,” which is basically a more elite version of what Mike Barthel calls “rock people.” If you never cared about them, this may be the reason why — their music is devoid of tweeness, and their detached, debauched persona can be off-putting if you’re the type of person who has trouble connecting with glamor or irony. But here’s the thing: While there will never be a shortage of skinny, good looking people going for the “sexy fucked-up rock star” look, very few of them will ever make compelling music that both dissects that image and lives inside it in the present tense. To an extent, the Kills have already accomplished that on their previous two records, but their new album Midnight Boom is where it really comes together, and the aesthetic and emotional tensions at the heart of their work escalates dramatically.

All of the songs on Midnight Boom are at the intersection of nostalgia and invention. Every track is informed by the nagging feeling that everything in your reality is wrong, and not quite good enough, and that at some point, things were much more exciting and romantic, but you missed it, and therefore must fabricate your own version of it in your own time. The songs aren’t about living out a fantasy, they’re about trying to force your life into one. It’s about recognizing the way fiction often sets the parameters for reality, and attempting to take advantage of it in order to escape a life of endless quotidian boredom. It’s the struggle between perception and fantasy, and living with the awareness that even after reinventing yourself, the world isn’t going to change all that much with you. Reality can be tampered with, but it won’t ever fully bend to your will.

More than anything, the Kills are aiming for a state of extreme romance, and so the songs that charge headlong into relationship drama (“Last Day Of Magic”) or indulge in excessive nostalgia (“What New York Used To Be”) are the most desperate and urgent. In those songs, and a few others, the dynamics become queasy and uncomfortable, and simulate the feeling of the mind moving faster than the body can handle, or vice versa. Much of this comes down to Jamie Hince’s skill for crafting tracks that emphasize visceral sensation, and are full of synthetic effects that make standard guitar moves sound just a bit unreal. His tones echo the general theme of fabrication — guitar parts are meant to evoke the sound of, say, scuzzy punk circa the early ’80s, but there’s no attempt to hide the digital patina, or take the listener out of this moment in time. (Click here to buy it from Insound.)