Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Boston Spaceships “You Satisfy Me”

“You Satisfy Me” falls into a line of Robert Pollard compositions that are catchy and ingratiating throughout, but essentially put off their best hook until the end of the song. In some cases, like “Portable Men’s Society,” it’s a matter of building up tension and creating a foreboding atmosphere, and in others, like “Psychic Pilot Clocks Out,” certain thoughts and emotions have to be articulated before Pollard can deliver the big pay off — “I feeeeeeel life passing on by us!” “You Satisfy Me” is more like the latter, but it is certainly understated in comparison. Not to diminish the fine melodic turns in the middle of the song, but the number is really about its conclusion, in which the guitar hook is paired with a twinned vocal part, and Pollard makes one of the simplest, boldest declarations of his career as a lyricist: “You satisfy me!” He sounds surprised, a bit resigned, and fully aware of the fact that there’s something a bit hollow and distinctly unsatisfying about being on the receiving end of this statement. He could be saying more, he could be framing his feelings in a less self-absorbed way, but he’s not, and he knows it.

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Marit Bergman and Titiyo “300 Slow Days In A Row”

As far as songs about breaking up with a long-term partner due to severe ennui go, “300 Slow Days In A Row” is almost entirely devoid of bitterness and resentment. It’s a sweet, old-fashioned tune, particularly in the way it casts aside the sort of pettiness and egoism that tends to define this type of song in the past decade or two in favor of a clear-eyed, kind-hearted assessment of a bad situation set to a heart-melting AM radio ballad in the vein of, say, Dusty Springfield or Dolly Parton. I’m especially fond of the way Bergman sings the word “slow” in the chorus. In most contexts, “slow” would not be such a damning word, but in that moment, she sounds totally consumed by heartache and frustration, not just about the quiet death of her relationship, but for the fact that she doesn’t have a more dramatic, urgent reason to walk away from it.

Buy it from Marit Bergman’s music subscription service.

Hemme Fatale “Peryglus Lucifer”

Judging by this song, there are strict rules governing the behavior of Lucifer at house parties. Specifically, he can only dance if you dance with him. He can drink wine, make noise with pots and pans, and have fun with your friends, but no matter what, he cannot dance unless you accompany him. You could be blasting Daft Punk or the B-52’s, and the guy would be stock still. Apparently, Lucifer is a man of honor. At least someone can be decisive in this song — both the male and female vocalists seem apprehensive about their desires, waffling between acting on their impulses, and standing around passively, confused by one another’s actions or lack thereof.

Visit the Hemme Fatale MySpace page.

Beta Satan “Party On The Death Star”

Beta Satan’s K.R. Hansen has a voice ideally suited to expressing bemused exasperation, which in turn lends itself to complaining about bad parties. This is at least the second song he’s done thus far to date that touches on that subject matter, but it’s really more of a starting point for venting larger frustrations about humanity. As the song bounds and bops along, Hansen vacillates between desperately wanting fun and a release from his anxiety, and getting annoyed with himself or the people around him or the contrived rituals of “fun.”

Buy it from Beta Satan.

The Pretenders “Almost Perfect”

The song syncs up perfectly with the weather: Grey and chilly; slow steady guitar rhythm and hushed drum hits mirroring the beat of rain drops; pedal steel notes reverbate in the negative space like ripples in puddles on the pavement. Chrissie Hynde sings words of realistic, clear-eyed, unconditional affection in a voice that’s sweet and low, but just emphatic enough to get across that she’s dead serious. It’s the sort of song that drifts along in a way that feels lazy and effortless, but the composition is careful and deliberate, with each instrument providing a subtle bit of flourish along the way.

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Junesex “Boy With Your Tongue”

“Boy With Your Tongue” feels very Prince-ish to me, not just for the cartoonish bounce in its grooves, but for the way it is absolutely filthy in a way that is playful, enthusiastic, and appreciative rather than nasty, demanding, and entitled like too many overtly sexual songs from recent years. This tune is good, silly fun, and on top of that, very inclusive — both men and women are congratulated for their oral skills in the chorus, opening it up for listeners of any orientation in a rather matter-of-fact sort of way. Whereas a song like this could easily just come across as raunchy and mechanical, there’s a very convincing, humanizing warmth in its neon tones, and the somewhat child-like voices deliver the lyrics in a way that makes the singers seem wide-eyed and totally wowed.

Deerhunter @ Bowery Ballroom 11/8/2008

Cover Me (Slowly) / Agoraphobia / Cryptograms / Never Stops / Backspace Century / Spring Hall Convert / Nothing Ever Happened / Little Kids / Octet / Microcastle / Vox Celeste / Twilight At Carbon Lake // New Animals / Hazel Street / Calvary Scars

Deerhunter “Little Kids”

In the time since my first Deerhunter show about a year and a half ago, the band have shifted from provocateurs to professionals. In some cases, this could be a bad thing that signals a descent into bloodless careerism, but the reality is that Deerhunter are just becoming who they are, and getting comfortable enough in their skin to focus completely on performing their music up to a very high standard. In terms of Bradford Cox’s approach to rapidly accumulating songs in his discography, he’s turning into his generation’s Bob Pollard, but in the way his main band performs live, they run a strong chance of becoming something on par with Radiohead or Sonic Youth. Just like those bands, Deerhunter play their songs with stunning accuracy, but also a charge of energy and emotional commitment that amps up the power of the material, and keeps them from sounding rote and over-rehearsed.

Cox has become an increasingly subdued presence onstage since last year, which has its ups and downs. I would appreciate more of his banter — he’s such an effortlessly charming and funny guy, I don’t think anyone would mind him talking a bit more between songs. On the other hand, since he’s abandoned his old antics in favor of throwing himself into playing his guitar, it is easier to focus on the music itself, and make note of the nuances and parts that make the songs so remarkable. For example, Lockett Pundt’s chiming, ascending riff at the end of “Little Kids” is even more magical in concert, and Cox’s finger-tapped lead at the end of “Nothing Ever Happened” is even more mesmerizing as it accelerates along with the slightly faster bass and drum parts.

One of the more encouraging things about this show is that the audience was mostly quite young and enthusiastic — my friend and I were right behind a pack of guys who could best be described as “alt-bros” — which bodes well for the group’s future, provided they all don’t just abandon the group the minute they veer away from songs like “Nothing Ever Happened” and “Never Stops.”

Buy it from Kranky.

The Smashing Pumpkins @ United Palace, 11/7/2008 (White Crosses)

Ava Adore / Cupid de Locke / 1979 / 99 Floors / Owata / Sunkissed / Soma / Cherub Rock / Zero / Bodies / Crestfallen / I of the Mourning / Song For A Son / Landslide / Disarm / Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness / Galapagos / Gossamer / As Rome Burns / The Sounds Of Silence + Little Red Riding Hood metal dirge medley / The March Hare / Suffer / The March Hare (reprise) / Age of Innocence // That’s The Way (My Love Is) / I Am One, Part Two

The Smashing Pumpkins “Soma” (Live in 1993)

This was much more like it, though there were still some problems. The band wisely got the audience on its side right away with strong, faithful versions of three old classics before settling into a handful of mellow and nondescript new numbers. Following that, they just totally killed it from “Soma” through “Bodies,” which, as you can probably imagine, made the audience go bananas. “Soma” in particular was exactly as amazing and powerful as you’d hope, and thoroughly brought the house down. Why it was not saved for the end of the show is beyond me. In both nights, Corgan’s logic appears to be “I’m going to give you some songs you want, but then the rest of show will be very taxing and questionable in terms of quality,” and I think it would be wiser to have those more challenging moments followed up by the reward of a mind-blowing fan-favorite like “Soma” or “Zero” rather than to burn through all of those songs by the 90 minute mark. (That said, I got a lot out of “Age of Innocence,” which is one of my own sentimental favorites, but I don’t get the sense that a significant number of people share my affection for that song.)

A few notes:

* Before “Landslide,” Billy had some guy from the audience come on stage to tell him that the previous night’s show sucked, but that he didn’t want his money back. While Corgan was unreasonably gracious to give this dude a voice, he followed it by mocking the guy in a way that was obnoxiously defensive and somewhat homophobic, something to the effect of “Oh, I loved that song you wrote. “Take Your Dick Out Of My Ass And Stick It In My Mouth,” that was a big hit in Europe.”

* Of the new material, the reprise section of “The March Hare” is the most interesting, if just because it goes off in this sorta quasi-Afrobeat zone that is genuinely different from music the band has done in the past. Ultimately, the trouble with much of the new tunes is that they generally seem like uninspired versions of archetypal Pumpkins songs. “Gossamer,” for example, aspires to be this grand, epic psychedelic ballad, but it lacks anything in the way of an ingratiating hook, and so it just comes off like 15 minutes of aimless riffs and noodling. “As Rome Burns” recalls the heavier songs from the Mellon Collie era, particularly the outtakes that ended up on the “Zero” EP, but Jimmy Chamberlain’s drumming is overly busy and prevents the piece from gelling into something strong and cohesive. The group’s extended metal take on “The Sounds of Silence,” which has virtually nothing to do with the Simon & Garfunkel hit aside from retaining its opening lyrics, was a distant cousin of “X.Y.U,” but was utterly devoid of that song’s brilliant dynamics and momentum.

* More to the point, I found myself thinking about whether or not Corgan is noticing, as he plays the songs, that his compositions from the early to mid 90s are far more sophisticated and well constructed than his latest work, which mostly seems rather lazy and tossed-off. “99 Floors” and “Owata” are pleasant, but desperately need to be tightened up, as both go on too long, and just plod from part to part in a way that robs the chord changes and nice bits of melody of any impact. His work has become increasingly undisciplined, and it breaks my heart because he’s capable of such great things.

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The Smashing Pumpkins @ United Palace 11/6/2008 (Black Sunshine)

Roctopus / Everybody Come Clap Your Hands / Tarantula / G.L.O.W. / Siva / Eye / Mayonaise / Tonight, Tonight / Speed Kills / Transformer / Superchrist / United States / Once Upon A Time / Again, Again, Again (The Crux) / The Rose March / Today / Bullet With Butterfly Wings / The Beginning Is The End Is The Beginning / Heavy Metal Machine (horrible new version) / Glass’ Theme / Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Sun // We Only Come Out At Night / Everything Is Beautiful

The Smashing Pumpkins “Superchrist”

At the end of this concert, Billy Corgan put himself in the mind of his audience and wondered aloud: “Did I pay for this shit?” He was, of course, mocking us, but that was very much the consensus opinion of the few thousand bitter, heartbroken fans who exited the United Palace theater as if on a death march. Really, how else were people supposed to feel about a two and a half hour show that mostly emphasized new material, generally avoided old classics, and included at least 40 minutes of formless prog-metal dirges and artless, atonal drones?

I want to make something clear: I don’t mind the Smashing Pumpkins playing new songs. That is totally fine, as they are a living band who still put out records, and it is their prerogative to perform recent material. In fact, some of the new tunes ended up being highlights of this show — “G.L.O.W.” is a good, catchy rocker, and “Superchrist” is by far the most successful and enjoyable product of the band’s recent fixation on over-the-top prog metal. I can’t say I love “The Rose March” or “The Crux,” but they are nice enough, and I don’t think anyone was bothered to hear them in the acoustic mini-set, though, you know, I think most everyone would’ve preferred to hear, say, “Thirty-Three” or “Muzzle” or “To Sheila” or…you know, the list goes on and on.

These are the big problems with this concert:

1) Not enough non-hit oldies. Yes, we got to see them play “Tonight, Tonight,” “Today,” “Bullet With Butterfly Wings” and “Siva,” but that amounts to a very small chunk of the actual set time, and the versions were somewhat rote. “Mayonaise” was the only song in the show that really qualified as a major fan-favorite, which is pretty ridiculous when you look at setlists from other legs of their tour in which the band leaned hard on a variety of classics that would thrill casual and hardcore fans alike. The band has not performed in New York City for nine years, and made New York fans wait a year and a half for a concert following the group’s reformation. It’s rather unfair of them to finally make the time to come to the biggest city in the country and kinda dick us over, especially when a good chunk of the audience were people like myself and my friend Bryan who had never had the opportunity to see a Smashing Pumpkins show before despite being fans for over fifteen years.

2) The new version of “Heavy Metal Machine” and their cover of “Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Sun” are just flat-out awful. “Heavy Metal Machine,” which is a pretty good tune in its original incarnation from Machina, has been transformed into a chugging, tuneless, seemingly endless dirge that excises virtually every appealing element of the song. “Set The Controls…” starts out as a vaguely intriguing take on the Pink Floyd song, but ends up becoming an interminable bore that marries the absolute worst of prog theatrics with the most tedious elements of art-noise. Both are cases of Corgan abandoning his strengths and embracing his most questionable impulses. These are the sort of things that may be fun to play in a rehearsal room, but translate poorly in front of an audience. Corgan is convinced that what he’s doing in these selections is art, but the problem is, it’s not at all successful art. It’s tacky and boring and not aesthetically or technically interesting. It’s just self-indulgent, and lacking in showmanship or tact. I cannot overstate just how much these two songs ruined this show — if they had simply not performed them, the show would’ve been just sorta okay. If they had omitted them and replaced them with a few songs regularly performed in previous legs of the tour such as “Starla,” “Drown,” “Where Boys Fear To Tread,” “Porcelina of the Vast Oceans,” “Hummer,” or “Set The Ray To Jerry,” the show could’ve actually been pretty good.

3) Now, it’s bad enough to subject your audience to about 40 minutes of abrasive, deliberately off-putting music, but it’s even more uncool to come back for an encore that mocks them for not being 100% with you, and feeling disappointed for not hearing more of what they expected to hear from a show billed as a 20th anniversary concert. In conventional show biz logic, if you’re going to go that far, you should at least leave the audience with a crowd-pleaser. In Billy Corgan logic, you come out and perform one of the lesser songs from your best-selling album, and then finish off with a song that mixes disingenuous hippy-dippy “everyone is beautiful!” lyrics with improvised sarcastic rants that outright diss the city you’re playing in, mock the fans for paying to see your band, and tell your visibly disappointed audience that you’ll see them in hell. It was full-on douche-tastic passive-aggression. It’s as if he set out to do this heel turn, and purposefully alienate as much of the audience as possible. Well, it worked. Believe me, unless you’ve witnessed other shows on this tour, it’s unlikely you’ve seen a more defeated audience exit from a rock show.

So here’s the thing: This is the first of a two-night stand, and tonight will be a totally different concert, with no repeated songs. Since this is exactly the same setlist as the first night of a similar deal in Toronto earlier this week, we are almost certain to see this setlist tonight. It’s not perfect, but it’s much closer to what I’d want to see in terms of song selection. Let’s just hope he doesn’t fuck this one up too, okay?

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White Hinterland “Lindberghs & Metal Birds”

Casey Dienel’s best songs have a slightly amorphous quality despite her clean arrangements and elegant compositions. “Lindberghs & Metal Birds” bops, skips, and sighs for nearly four minutes, deftly navigating an emotional terrain that is superficially homogenous, but defined by minute shifts in tone that cycle through feelings of dread, levity, resignation, and sorrow. The song is understated, but potent, and its seamless mix of emotions is specific and evocative, capturing a space in the mind where concepts and concerns have not yet congealed into a coherent position, but are just on the verge of tipping into certainty.

Buy White Hinterland records from Dead Oceans.

R.E.M. “Living Well Is The Best Revenge” (Live)

Michael Stipe wrote the lyrics to this song well over a year ago. It’s perfect for this day.

don’t turn your talking points on me

history will set me free

the future is OURS and you don’t even

rate a footnote now

so who’s chasing you, where did you go?

you disappear mid-sentence in a judgment crisis

I see my in and go for it

you weakened shill

you, savor your dying breath

I forgive but I don’t forget

you work it out

let’s hear that argument again

camera 3. go! now!

all your sad and lost apostles

hum my name and flare their nostrils

choking on the bones you tossed to them

now I’m not one to sit and spin

but living well is the best revenge

and baby, I am calling you on that

When it became clear that Barack Obama had won the election, I felt what a majority of Americans felt — elation, pride, hope. I also felt something a bit darker, a bit more shameful: The bitter, smug satisfaction of REVENGE. What happened yesterday was an unequivocal repudiation of the Republican party, and of George W. Bush and Dick Cheney and Karl Rove. I’ll be honest with you: I can barely contain my glee in watching this hideous, cancerous version of a once-honorable party crumble. It’s going to be fascinating over the next several years to observe as the GOP fight amongst themselves and scramble to reinvent their party. My hope is that they can find a way back to being a party with whom I do not agree on a vast majority of issues, but can respect. But in the meantime, they’ve been defeated and humiliated on nearly all fronts, and that is incredible. It took a long time, but we’ve had our revenge.

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The Kills “What New York Used To Be”

There’s a lot of nostalgia in this song, but it’s all for memories of things that happened before one’s own time. It’s an idealized version of the past; this construct of representation and fantasy that only serves to highlight the perceived inadequacies of the present. The lyrics fixate on the past, but it’s a song about living right now, and being overwhelmed with disgust for what can seem like an all-permeating lack of vision, creativity, pleasure, purpose, you name it, and desperately wanting to reshape the world to match your expectations. There’s a feeling of intense concentration in the song, as if the two members of the band are actually attempting to build their version of the world with only a handful of sounds, and the sheer force of their will. Jamie Hince’s guitar textures, so brilliant throughout all of the Midnight Boom album, reach their pinnacle here, alternating between mechanical clanging, hints of synth pop, and a chugging, dense fuzz that evokes the image of slow-burning flames. By the end of the track, Alison Mosshart chants the title phrase with increasing intensity as if it were an incantation, and in that moment, it feels as though her vision of the city could just magically return, and be nothing at all what like New York actually used to be.

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Free Blood “Quick and Painful”

At their core, Free Blood’s have the classic DFA sound: Jagged post-punk bass riffs and stark disco beats, polished up just enough to fit comfortably in the proximity of electro and house music, but rough enough to maintain a neurotic, edgy tone and sonic grit. That’s a solid foundation, but as we’ve learned from the horde of DFA pretenders from the earlier half of this decade, it’s not enough to carry a song, much less a band. Free Blood flood their songs with hooks and textural detail, but even at their busiest moments, the compositions feel loose and lean. “Quick and Painful” builds upon its central rhythmic tension with the flirty sexual tension of its male and female vocals, and contrasts bursts of abrasive electronic noise with a dramatic cello motif that cuts diagonally through the track. The breakdown is particularly interesting — the central groove cuts out, the song shifts briefly into something resembling an alt-rock ballad with some odd chatter in the background before mutating back to its funk riff for the finale.

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Heartsrevolution “Switchblade”

“Switchblade” is a good title for this song, at least in the sense that its rapid attack of trebly computer-error sounds is like the musical equivalent of getting stabbed repeatedly in the ear drum with tiny daggers. Okay, that may not seem like a recommendation, but I mean it in the best possible way — the track feels freakishly urgent and alert, as if it were made to conflate the pleasure of dancing with the bug-eyed panic of a crisis.

Visit the Heartsrevolution MySpage page.

Girls Aloud “Love Is The Key”

The fact that the new Girls Aloud record leans a bit towards ’60s influences probably has something to do with Mark Ronson’s chart successes, but it’s not much of a stretch for them in aesthetic terms. Of the new tunes, “Love Is The Key” ventures the furthest into ’60s pastiche, but it’s basically a cousin of (the admittedly superior) “Waiting” from Chemistry, and the songwriting conventions are integrated seamlessly into their pre-existing hyper-pop style, so it’s more like smart accessorizing than a full-on makeover. (That said, if they make a video for this song, they should be encouraged to crib ruthlessly from Mad Men.) Lyrically, they are not straying from their Chick Lit comfort zone — this is an “opposites attract” song about finding a happy ending with an unlikely yet highly decent suitor — but unfortunately, they’ve dialed down the weirdness factor in their new material, so there aren’t any classic Girls Aloud “wait, she just sang what?” moments. Boo.

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The Herbaliser featuring Jessica Darling “Can’t Help This Feeling”

This track is all wham, bam and pow; delirious infatuation represented in song as if it were a fist fight in the old Batman television series from the ’60s. It’s strong stuff, with bombastic fanfare, emphatic vocals, and funky drums all kicked up to a power level that’s a bit too much, but just enough to get across an overwhelmed, overjoyed state of mind.

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Marit Larsen “Ten Steps”

Marit Larsen has a tendency to play a passive character in her songs, but in “Ten Steps,” she’s a young woman who is embracing her agency, and preparing herself to walk out on her boyfriend. Her decision is made before the song even begins, and the music and lyrics carry us through the time it takes to actually go through with her plan. It starts off feeling fragile and tentative, but as she comes closer to committing to her decision, the arrangement picks up and the string section kicks in, simulating a feeling of growing excitement and pride, with a slight yet urgent undertow of sadness and resignation.

Buy it via Marit’s MySpace page.

Deerhunter “Vox Humana”

1. As far as I can tell, this is Bradford Cox. As in, this is what his soul sounds like. Wistful, fragile, sentimental, and so overflowing with naked yearning for connection or escape or validation that he just has no hope of ever having all his love requited. There’s defeat in his voice, but only just a bit — he mostly just sounds like a person exhausted by his love, and lost in his art and his nostalgia.

2. Whenever people say stuff like “I’m really passionate about music,” it makes me want to slap them in the face because it’s like, what, do you think you’re special for liking music? Almost everyone likes music at least a bit; it’s totally mundane. This is not the case for Bradford Cox. His fandom always comes across like a matter of life and death; as though his obsessions are the only thing that keep him engaged with life. Whereas most people talk about passion as if the word were interchangeable with “hobby” or “interest,” there’s actual passion in Cox — burning, aching desire and longing and need, and emotions so intense they boil your brain from inside your skull.

3. “Vox Humana” is built upon the infamous and ubiquitous “Be My Baby” beat, and of course this a very deliberate thing. We’re meant to think of that song, and all the songs that draw on its love-struck, magical, reverbating thud-thud-thud-tsssh. That shared affection and nostalgia is our entry point to Cox’s personal reverie, and the bit that keeps the composition anchored as the gorgeous, spectral piano part spirals out with his rambling, murmured monologue, rewriting his fading memories as romantic fantasies.

Buy it from Kranky.

Electric Six “We Were Witchy Witchy White Women”

Though “We Were Witchy Witchy White Women” lacks the obvious, bold punch-lines of previous Electric Six hits such as “Gay Bar” or “Danger! High Voltage,” much of its immediate appeal comes from its novelty value. It’s a propulsive new wave pop song in vaguely silly hard rock drag; the lyrics are full of playful alliteration and absurd imagery; the hyper-masculine Dick Valentine sings the song from the perspective of a lesbian witch. The heart of the song, however, is the way those things come together and draw us into a narrative specific to the love of two lesbian witches, but applicable to any pair of exotic outsiders. It’s essentially about owning your status as an outcast, and living with the realization that your differences will inspire both fear and fascination in others. This is a song of intense love, and the sort of bond that occurs between two people who justifiably feel like no one else can really understand them.

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Britta Persson “Cliffhanger”

“Cliffhanger” expresses some of the most profound ambivalence that I’ve ever heard in the form of a pop song, to the point that I’ve heard it at least a hundred times over the course of this year, and I still can’t quite figure out if the emotional place where the song begins is any different from where it ends, or if the song is just a lot of deeply-felt epiphanies separated by ellipses. Basically, the lyrics are about being in a stable relationship and constantly thinking about where it will end up as time goes on. The singer is alternately freaked out and comforted by her commitments, and she becomes critical of her mixed emotions — is she simply “feeling a feeling because it’s a feeling?” By the time she’s singing about being ready to move on, it’s hard to tell whether she’s actually willing to break it off, or if it’s just something she’s talked herself into out of fear of eventually disappointing herself or someone else. It’s the most emphatic part of the song, but within seconds we’re back to the indecision of the chorus, and then it’s time for an outro that leaves the composition feeling unresolved, but totally exhausted.

Buy it from the official Britta Persson website.

The Week That Was “The Story Waits For No One”

Peter Brewis is exceptionally gifted at creating arrangements that balance placid melodic figures with tense rhythms, resulting in compositions that cover the sort of complicated, muted, in-between emotions that fill up most of our lives, but rarely are articulated accurately in song. “The Story Waits For No One” gracefully glides from melody to melody, switching from piano to guitar to strings and back around again, letting each instrument convey a different shade of the same emotional hue. As with all Brewis compositions — including the Field Music records, and his brother/partner’s David’s album under the name School of Language — the tone is very understated but highly agreeable, and equally rewarding as background music or something to listen to attentively on headphones.

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Eagle & Talon “Hot Caught”

Even when “Hot Caught” is simmering, it feels like it’s at a full boil. Every second of the song is filled with passion, impatience, and anxiety, and so it’s really just a matter of degree from moment to moment. The women of Eagle & Talon control their tension like experts, or at least like musicians who learned all the right lessons from listening to old Sleater-Kinney albums. Unlike Sleater-Kinney, Eagle & Talon’s songs seem to come from a less self-assured and forthright place, and so the torrid intensity is paired with a sense of doubt and indecision, which makes it seem as though they could just as easily torch the world around them or self-immolate.

Buy it from Eagle & Talon.

Cale Parks “A Long Time In The Air”

Usually it seems that adding more instrumental elements will make a song feel more dense, but it works the other way around in this composition. As it begins, the bass line sounds thick and somewhat languorous up against the beat, but each new element that enters along the way eases the tension. By the time a hooky synth motif comes along around the halfway point, the track feels light, relaxed, and spacious. It’s like putting on layers of clothing in order to feel naked.

Buy it from Polyvinyl Records.

The Matthew Herbert Big Band “The Yesness”

It seems like an understatement to say that “The Yesness” is an aggressively assertive song. The music is like a cartoonish temper tantrum, with a huge band and an incredibly forceful lead singer shouting, stomping and swinging around until they finally get their way. Matthew Herbert is indeed leading a full-on Big Band of sharp session players, but they aren’t quite enough for him — in addition to traditional Big Band instrumentation, he throws in loads of samples, buzzes, hums, and clangs. For the most part, this song and the rest of the numbers on There’s Me and There’s You have an old timey flavor, but the modern touches and deliberately odd or ugly textures keep the compositions strange and lively, particularly when he builds up to a glorious, colorful cacophony.

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