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.

Buy it from Amazon.

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.

Buy it from Amazon UK.

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.

Buy it from Amazon.

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.

Buy it from Amazon.

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.

Buy it from Amazon.

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.

Buy it from Amazon.

School of Seven Bells “Wired For Light”

“Wired For Light” imagines sleep as a state in which a person can perform a sort of psychic surgery on their unconscious mind, and actively shape their identity and perceptions by asserting conscious influence over their dreams. As suggested in the opening line, this sort of lucid dreaming requires practice and skill, and so the song is balanced between evoking this surreal, ethereal astral plane, and conveying the focus and discipline necessary to explore the deepest recesses of one’s own psyche. Despite the song’s consistent tone and textural palette, the arrangement is constantly shifting, giving the listener a sense of moving through a dark, unknown place with only a small light to illuminate a path that does not conform to a 3D understanding of space. The song is sung by two women with nearly identical voices, and when they sing in unison, they sound ever so slightly out of phase, making them seem like a slightly alien — or post-human? — guide through an extraordinarily calm adventure.

Buy it from Amazon.

As you can see, Fluxblog has a new look.

I think everyone can agree that it was time. I will always have a fondness for Deric Holloway’s design, but I’ve been wanting to change the site for a long time, and the longer I waited, the more I knew the change had to be fairly radical. Ryan Catbird designed the new site, and I think he did an excellent job of bringing everything together in a way that feels clean, modern, and attractive. I am certain that you’ll find the new version of Fluxblog to be more readable, easier to search and navigate, and with the integration of the Fluxtumblr on the right hand side of the page, richer than ever in terms of content.

Along with the change in layout and design, I will also be experimenting with advertising in the near future. I never wanted to do this, and have resisted the temptation to have advertising on the site for over seven years now, but given my current (dire) economic situation, I need to at least give it a shot. I hope that you understand.

The ads you are currently seeing on the site are for Ryan’s record label, Catbird Records. If you are interested in advertising on this site, please contact me at perpetua @ gmail.com, and maybe we can work something out.

Max Tundra “Number Our Days”

It is difficult to listen to Max Tundra’s music without being acutely aware of its structure, texture, and shape. He makes the listener feel as though they are walking around on the inside of a pop song, observing its inner workings from reverse, and magnified to the point that it all becomes strange and surreal. The songs themselves are reminiscent of Scritti Politti, from the slick style on down to the cheerfully subversive substance, but Tundra’s aesthetic is far more manic and silly. He borrows liberally from video games, to the point that his compositions don’t just superficially resemble video game soundtracks, but the shifting tones and dramatic arc of the songs map on to the landscape and narrative of a video game level. This is particularly interesting in “Number Our Days,” which sounds like a colorful virtual wonderland, but expresses a sober belief that there is no life after death. The lyrics are rather melancholy and seemingly at odds with the tone of the music, but if you think of the rather fatalistic “lives” of the sort of canon fodder inhabitants of most video games, the philosophy makes a certain amount of sense playing out in this context.

Buy it from Domino Records.

Rose Elinor Dougall “Another Version of Pop Song”

This is a song about a tricky emotional situation: You’re in love, or at least something like being in love, but circumstances are forcing you to think too much about the future, and it makes you tense, paranoid, and fearful. Maybe it’s your partner being too clingy, maybe you’re imagining all this pressure because you can’t help but freak out when it comes to commitment. But either way, this bit of negativity subtly taints everything, and even when you’re caught up in this tidal wave of love, you’re anticipating the drag of the undertow. You can feel both in this song, from the dizzying swirl of the drums and Rose’s emphatic “kisskisskisskisskisskiss!” to the low-key melancholy of the keyboard lead melody. (Click here to buy it via Rose Elinor Dougall’s MySpace page.)

Love Is All “A More Uncertain Future”

Josephine Olausson is the rock singer equivalent of a character actress. She’s not long on grace and her voice is not traditionally attractive, but she has a lot of highly specific charm. In most of the band’s songs, she’s kinda yelping in rhythm, but when they slow down, as on this mellow duet from their new sophomore album, her quirks are foregrounded. In some cases, that might be a bit grating, but this song allows her to sing as a character ideally suited to her personality — fragile, awkward, a bit child-like, a bit weary. When she’s forthright, she still seems self-effacing, and it makes perfect sense in the context of the song’s narrative. (Buy it from Amazon.)

The Voluntary Butler Scheme “Tabasco Sole”

Well, this one just gleams, doesn’t it? The Voluntary Butler Scheme aren’t reinventing any wheels here — most every instrumental element and hook in the song triggers a sense of déjà vu — but the tune comes together with such verve and pizzazz that even the most stock ideas seem magical within its two minutes and forty-eight seconds. Some songs aim for this sort of carefree, overwhelmingly cheerful tone and fall short; “Tabasco Sole” nails it and makes life just a little bit better when it’s on. (Click here for the Voluntary Butler Scheme’s MySpace page.)

Lucinda Williams “Real Love”

Lucinda Williams’ voice is bold and forthright, and though she’s got a skill for ballads, her singing is best framed in countrified rockers that emphasize a precise and incredibly appealing mixture of toughness and sweetness. There’s probably a hundred other songs out there that aren’t tremendously different from “Real Love,” but her tune sparks with disciplined hooks and a playful exuberance that sells the lyrics, and gives the listener a contact high from her excitement and attraction. (Buy it from Amazon.)

Q-Tip “Gettin’ Up”

Unlike a majority of rappers, Q-Tip’s character is gentle and his voice is soft and nearly effeminate, which lends itself well to laid back, airy productions like “Gettin’ Up.” The beat is solid and holds his rhymes in place, but the appeal lies mainly in the way the melodic instrumental elements seem to hover around the center of the track, and complements his romantic lyrics with a tone of optimism and swooning nostalgia. (Buy it from Amazon.)

of Montreal @ Roseland Ballroom 10/10/2008Id Engager / So Begins Our Alabee / Triphallus, To Punctuate! / She’s A Rejecter / For Our Elegant Caste / Touched Something’s Hollow / An Eluardian Instance / Heimdalsgate Like A Promethean Curse / Gallery Piece / Wraith Pinned To The Mist and Other Games / Women’s Studies Victims / St. Exquisite’s Confessions / Eros’ Entropic Tundra / Nonpareil of Favor / October Is Eternal / Wicked Wisdom / Disconnect The Dots / Knight Rider / And I’ve Seen A Bloody Shadow / Plastis Wafers / Beware Our Nubile Miscreants / Mingusings / A Sentence Of Sorts In Kongsvinger // Smells Like Teen Spirit / Gronlandic Edit

A year ago today, I saw of Montreal perform at the Roseland Ballroom. They debuted three songs that would eventually appear on Skeletal Lamping, and the first of those numbers was “St. Exquisite’s Confessions,” an approximation of an R&B slow jam that begins with the line “I’m so sick of sucking the dick of this cruel, cruel city.” It was very stunning in that moment, but it had nothing on what the band did with the song almost exactly a year later at the same venue: Kevin Barnes came out to sing the song wearing virtually nothing and riding a white horse. Everyone in the audience was stunned. Everyone. I mean, have you ever seen a live horse on stage at a concert? Exactly.

That’s where of Montreal is in 2008. They are a band who can routinely pull off — and then consistently improve upon! — a spectacular stage show that integrates a great deal of high concept performance art, and still be able to do something that can totally blow the minds of everyone in a very large venue. They can do that, and later on in the same show, do something that is arguably even more memorable: Play an intense version of “Smells Like Teen Spirit” second only to the version on Nevermind, and have the audience respond as if they were actually at a Nirvana concert. Everyone in the room was going bananas. Everyone.
of Montreal “Women’s Studies Victims” (Live at the 9:30 Club in Washington, DC 10/9/2008) – The most remarkable thing about the band’s current show is that they have fully integrated the performance art aspects of their concerts, to the point that a majority of the songs go along with some kind of elaborate set piece that correspond to the lyrical themes. It’s very much a production, and a work of art in and of itself. Barnes and his collaborators hit upon an ideal balance of sexuality, intellectualism, humor, raw emotion, and pure fun. It’s not a surprise to me that they’ve attracted so many extraordinarily enthusiastic young fans — I find myself deeply envious of every teenager and college kid who gets to see them and love them at a point where this sort of art can have so much influence on identity.
After the show, I was thinking a lot about how much Kevin Barnes pushes the envelope in terms of eroticizing himself on stage, and how much that shapes the audience’s relationship with his music. It’s rare, especially these days, and perhaps even more unusual given that Kevin is basically a straight guy, but the sexuality he projects is this sort of delicate pansexual masculinity. So much of the audience is in love with him, and it makes perfect sense. I mean, just think of all the girls — he is the perfect archetype of the sensitive, arty, skinny, stylish, effeminate yet somehow straight guy. He’s an unattainable dream for all sorts of people, as either a fantasy partner, or a fantasy version of one’s self. And keep in mind, he does all this while writing about fantasies and emotional turmoil and fluidity of identity in such a way to inspire deep identification within his listeners. He’s an incredibly powerful figure, in some ways that are calculated, but mostly it’s all a side effect of his talent and vision.
of Montreal “Triphallus, To Punctuate!” (Live at the 9:30 Club in Washington, DC 10/9/2008) – On top of the conceptual and visual elements of the show, the band has been improved greatly by moving away from programmed percussion, and embracing live drumming throughout the concert. This gives the music more power and oomph, particularly when there were two drummers going at once. Contrasted with the performances during the drum machine-centric Hissing Fauna shows from last year, the band seemed far more present and spontaneous, which contrasted nicely with the meticulously choreographed production. The grooves in these songs are too powerful to be held back by canned beats; it’s more effective and inspiring when it all feels fluid and alive. (Click here to buy Skeletal Lamping from Polyvinyl Records, and here to hear the band’s full concert in Washington, DC on the NPR site.)

Marykate O’Neil, “Happy”

What does ‘happy’ even mean? In the context of this song, it’s more or less synonymous with lazy contentment, and hopes and dreams are just things that get in the way of that, and lead to disappointment. The mood is very ambivalent — generally smooth and mellow, with a tinge of tension, regret, and doubt that comes across in the nuances of the arrangement. It feels rather cosmopolitan as well; like a stroll through someone else’s affluent urban fantasy without having the means to join in on the indulgence and frivolity. (Click here to buy it via Marykate O’Neil’s website.)

Sparks “Lighten Up, Morrissey” – The title may give you the impression that Sparks are slagging off Morrissey, but that’s not really the case — if anything, this is more of a tongue-in-cheek celebration of the singer’s outsize persona and ability to inspire intense fandom that often crosses over into unrequited love. The character in the song is dealing with unrequited love himself — he’s crazy for a woman who is obsessed with Morrissey, and he is convinced that he cannot possibly live up to the standard set by the Pope of Mope. He becomes self-conscious about pretty much every aspect of his being, and begins to feel like a straight, steak-chomping, snark-free Anti-Moz. It’s a funny song, in part because the tune becomes more over-the-top and glam as the character becomes more exasperated and insecure. (Click here to buy it from Amazon.)

Shrag “Forty Five 45s” – This song, which is about a stack of singles soured by its connection to a failed relationship, may as well be an entry on the Ruined Music site. I’ll admit that I tend to be rather dubious when people talk about spending time together deliberately sharing records — How many people actually do that? Am I just weird for not doing that? — but this song rings very true, particularly when the singer hints at some resentment for the way her ex’s generosity was mixed with a bit of condescension.  There’s a bit of ego on both sides, but it seems obvious that she’s only just now articulating some bottled-up annoyances.  (Click here to buy it via Shrag’s MySpace page.)

Murs “The Science” – The really amazing thing about this song is that Murs can explain the history of hip hop and the American government’s war on drugs without coming off like a condescending dick, or leave the listener thinking “yeah, I know that, and…?” A lot of this comes down to his personality. He seems lucid, even-tempered, and friendly, and when he raps about the origins of hip hop, he is clearly awed and inspired by the creativity and resourcefulness of his forebears. It’s not about things being better back in the day, it’s about keeping in mind that his genre is borne of will, defiance, intelligence, and inventiveness, and that it is essential to keep that alive well into the future. (Click here to buy it from Amazon.)
Fluxcast #14 – You know the drill: The song info is in the metadata, and the track listing will appear on the Fluxcast site at the end of the week. This one includes songs from Shudder To Think, Portishead, Herbie Hancock, and Latyrx.