Titus Andronicus - The Monitor

I'm tired of Springsteen references. So he sang for the "working class", so what? He wasn't the first. What the fuck did you think the blues were? For the rich? Rich people don't got no blues. Not like Robert Johnson and Blind Willie McTell got tha blues. Yes he wrote good rock and roll songs that he put a lot of heart into and wrote songs that the average man could relate to (they call those folk songs). Neil Young sang those types of songs too. You don't hear critics describing Arcade Fire as Young-esque. Maybe because Bruce sang with urgency. A "shit, us middle class people gotta change things, we're working too hard and it's rougher than you think" urgency that no one else could harness because the rest of the music industry was too coked up, listening to Flock of Seagulls, Depeche Mode, and Blondie, while fucking strangers to Prince. Maybe Springsteen was the country music for the liberals (they call that alt-country nowadays). Music for men in Camrys, drinking imported beer, with naturally good looking wives, trying keep their job in a struggling economy. Was it because he was from New Jersey and it sucks to live there? Maybe he had it rough growing up in a middle class neighborhood in Jersey, getting a working class allowance and getting in fights over lunch money, so he resorted to being a loner and playing his guitar. I get it, Springsteen was punk for the suburbs. Kinda like Green Day. So, maybe we should call Billie Joe Armstrong The New Boss? I get it though, Bruce is from Jersey and that's why Titus Andronicus dons that over-used reference, right? I think Springsteen is over-referenced because he made people care about music in a decade overflowing with so much throwaway pop culture. Bruce opened up the box delivered a week after Christmas and with a 9-year-old's energy, dove through the Styrofoam peanuts of songs crowding around him and lifted his present to the sky in triumph for all the world to see. And the next day, he wrote his aunt and uncle a thank you note.
Well, Titus Andronicus detonate that box. Oh, and fuck the thank you note. Patrick Stickles and Company are pissed. They live in the same shithouse state Springsteen lived in, but in a worse economy. Remember that construction job, Bruce? Yeah, there's not even a constructions site. Titus are emo for the working class, because in order to cry about the girl you lost, you actually have to have a girl to begin with, and that means not getting drunk with friends on a weekday. Titus Andronicus have a reputation of wrecking ball-ing into town, sleeping on YOUR couch, drinking YOUR PBRs, and becoming YOUR best friend while doing it. This drunk and sweaty punk-roderie is felt by the time the opening track "A More Perfect Union" ends, and stomps into a paranoid punk rant of "the enemy is everywhere". You are on their side, chanting right along, foaming at the mouth, and pumping your fist like your barely over minimum wage life depends on it. You are a real life punk rocker, not the one who bounces couches and idealizes an anarchist utopia that's not logical and would never exist, but because the man sucks, and it's his fault the economy's in the tank and no matter how hard you work, you might not punch in next Monday.
So, Titus Andronicus spends the 60 minutes of this album working hard for you. Only 2 tracks are under 5 minutes long, none ever seeming labored over, while keeping the punk energy level at 11). Stickles predictably sings about drinking too much and finding a better New Jersey, but does it with such relentless energy, that it sounds refreshingly new. On "Theme From Cheers", he starts off by apologizing to mama cuz him and dad started the weekend boozing early. He's on a mission to put the devil inside him asleep if it takes all night, as long as he and his buddies make it down to the Bottle King by ten. "Four Score and Seven" starts off with a defeated Stickles moaning "this is a war we can't win", and ends in a never-give-up battle cry of "it's us against them" accompanied by a relentless drum roll and a 21 gun salute guitar solo. The band keeps up, carrying his Conor Oberst meets Sid Vicious wailing with an instrumental uprising halfway through each song. Even during the intros when the band is tame, Stickles rage foams like an agitated beer can, waiting for the band to catch up. The one exception being the album splitter "A Pot In Which To Piss". Stickles reflects, almost sweetly at moments for a good minute before admitting "nothing means anything, anymore" against dramatic cymbals. When he claims he's "at the end of [his] rope, and [he] feels like swinging," you expect the band to burst into another fist-pumping finale, they bridge, giving Stickles one more restrained verse before unleashing his full power. The tension swells to bursting, bleeding another verse and a baby grand finale.
The monumental 14 minute closer "The Battle of Hampton Roads" is no exception, with a frothy Oberstian rant that ends in a him begging for his darling to never leave and a bagpipe solo worthy of Aeroplane Over The Sea. The Civil War theme, though having little to do with the actual content of the album, is a fun theme that provides breathing points in this blockbuster album. Under the Lincoln monologues, the harmonicas, and the 2-minute bagpipe solos, this is frustrated Jersey punk that inspires in the only way they know how, by spitting it in your face.

Sleigh Bells - Treats

Great albums almost always have an underlying, unifying theme to the songs. Pink Floyd's psychedelic masterpiece Dark Side Of The Moon is an obvious example. So is Radiohead's ride through dark futuristic soundscapes on Kid A. See Arcade Fire's Funeral for death and the fears, emotions, and unexpected beauty that results from it. Need to train a cyborg army for world domination circa 2095? Battles' Atlas can be your Jock Jams of Terminator-style destruction. While most albums may have a congealing theme, each listener comes away with different emotions and images embedded as a result of hearing them.

Let's take the new Sleigh Bells album Treats for example. The opener Tell 'Em summons a militia of machine gun wielding high school cheerleaders on a vengeful rampage against the football players who raped them. Our soft-singing heroine leads us through a war zone of guitar that grinds, shrieks, and explodes while returning fire with a Gatling gun drum track. The second track starts with that same style buzz-saw guitar, but when the chest rattling beat drops in and our heroine starts to moan along to it, she becomes the ringleader in a sweaty warehouse orgy porno. The former soft-but-assertive battle calls now sound like orders from a whip-wielding dominatrix against the pelvic grind beats. Riot rhythm follows with more singeing guitars and exploding beats, and our heroine is backed by her chanting mob of blood-thirsty cheerleaders. And so the album goes, back and forth between Robert Rodriguez-style battle scenes with sexy blood-stained cheerleaders, to back alley S&M orgy. The violence lets up only once on Rill Rill, a catchy side-to-side head bobber that serves as a much need water (or lube) break before Crown On The Ground, the bombastic highlight on an already "to 11" album. The track seems to only be held together by the sugary sweet serenade of our leading lady. And by serenade I mean her on the beat oh-uh-oh-ohs and sing-song delivery.

It's amazing you can even hear her umidst the chaotic, detonating rhythm section and powertool chords. Alexis Krauss' voice just rides the chaos like a veteran equestrian taming a wild stallion. She is the beautifully soothing counterpart to the mayhem behind her. Replace her with a growling agro male, add a little more guitar and you have a bad hardcore noise band trying to make it in the club scene. Or maybe......

The Walkmen - Stranded

I've been confused lately. I don't know what to think any more about music. I can't decide what's actually good, what's genius, what's annoying. I'm questioning, critisizing, and over analyzing every song I hear. The songs and albums I have grown to love over the past months still sound fine. It's all the new singles. All the chillwave, all the drone noise lofi psychedelic pop that I can't wrap my head around to the point that I just wanna retire. I wanted to check into the retirement home of Top 40 radio where everthing is safe and scheduled. My music meals, hand picked by someone I'll never see, will be bland and boring, but they will provide me with just enough nutrients to get by. Then, like a freedom-loving, inheritance-grubbing nephew the new Walkmen song talked some sense back in me. I needed those horns to wrap their friendly arms around me, take me down to the nearest pub, buy me a drink, "put another dime in the jukebox" and sing and sway along with me and Hamilton Leithauser. My head is clear now and I feel right as rain. I needed those horns, swollen with loneliness. I needed to hear a singer belt out a simple bar ballad about being "stranded and starry-eyed" to keep my feet grounded and eyes to the sky. I've felt stranded, too, over the last week, and now I'm filled with starry-eyed hope again. Thank you Walkmen for your Tom Wait-sy lounge. Thank you for making me feel real again.

Top 10 albums, songs of 2010 so far....

Albums

1. Titus Andronicus - The Monitor
2. LCD Soundsystem - This Is Happening
3. Local Natives - Gorilla Manor
4. Black Keys - Brothers
5. Beach House - Teen Dream
6. Sleigh Bells - Treats
7. Surfer Blood - Astro Coast
8. Big Boi - Sir Lucious Left Foot....The Son of Chico Dusty
9. Hot Chip - One Life Stand
10. Fang Island - Fang Island


Songs

1. Titus Andronicus - Four Score and Seven: From the achingly tired and defeated whimper of "this is a war we can't win", to the triumphant never-back-down battle cry of "I was born to die just like a man!", Patrick Stickles and company build a Replacements army of punk that, for 8 and a half minutes, could defeat anything.
2. Black Keys - Next Girl: The Keys finally find that one element of blues garage rock that it took Jack White 3 bands to find: SEX. PS Dan Auberach has the most soulful voice in music right now
3. Big Boi - Shutterbug: A studdering voicebox bassline that will rattle soundsystems like two midgets in the back seat 'rasslin', and Ziploc-fresh flows from half of the most innovative rap group ever.
4. Sleigh Bells - Crown on the Ground: The loudest track to the loudest album of 2010....so far. The single M.I.A. wishes she wrote, off the album she wishes she produced.
5. LCD Soundsystem - I Can Change: James Murphy's disco plea bargain fills the soul with honest inspiration, and the legs with the itch of dance.
6. Best Coast - Boyfriend: Crushes are frustrating even in a summery lofi pop world. 7. Here We Go Magic - Collector: The soundtrack to a couple of 8 year olds running a sugar-high-induced muck through a Wonka-style candy shop.
8. Delorean - Stay Close: A throwback to 90s house that embraces the energy of the genre withou being annoying.
9. Surfer Blood - Floating Vibes: The guitar hasn't sounded this catchy since the Blue Album
10. Hot Chip - I Feel Better: If this would've been released circa 2000, Hot Chip would've been crowned the greatest boyband to never grace the cover of Tiger Beat. The only way they get away with it is that rotten-toothed smirk of British irony.

i think i'll be deaf by age 40

I should probably put the headphones down and get a real job. I should also not get drunk and listen to Modest Mouse. You should. I've done it quite a few times before and Mr. Brock and Co. always sugarcoat every morbidly intuitive lyric with the sweetest guitar licks this side of Steely Dan. Yeah, I said it, Steely Dan. They sucked cuz they quit playing live after one album. And so do the Beatles. Quitters. Thank you Modest Mouse for sweeping the dusty corners of everyday universe, and before dumping the crumbs and dust bunnies in the trash, telling us how you love and hate all those stupid little life "functions". Everyday drib-drab is boring, unless you growl like Brock. Thank you for constantly restoring my faith in the power of music.

Jesus, Zola Jesus

When Nika Danilova, voice of Zola Jesus tells you to trust her, she'll be right here, you do exactly that. Her powerful voice bursts through the sparse noir backing, feeding you lyrics of hope that could've brought a second storming of the beaches of Normandy. For people who think The XX is nothing but watered down indie R&B, then turn to Zola Jesus. Some people have told me Jesus saves. Nika Danilova's voice just might do the same.

Listen here

New MGMT

Our favorite space-pop fashion-hippies released a new single for free via their internet page. They deliver their promise of not repeating/rehashing "Kids" or "Time to Pretend". Their new song "Flash Delirium" is a sugary sixties pop cube dipped lightly in acid synth, eventually breaking out into a punky freakout in the last 10 seconds. The blended verse harmonies and Bowie pouty whimper pre-chorus while catchy, are no match for the thick danceable hooks of "Kids" and "Time to Pretend". Oracular Spectacular was a warm Friday night fueled by drugs, dance and friends, and the upcoming Congratulations sounds like a sunny Saturday afternoon.

I'm rooting for MGMT. They are the type of band that introduce the masses to a side of pop music absent of Autotune, Lady Gaga, and mindless hip-hop. They are telling the kids (and out-of-touch adults) to look beyond the radio and read music blogs and find the scores of interesting bands that ever so subtly change to lives of us indie rock folks. If they are successful, they may be responsible for Animal Collective's next album debuting in the Billboard top 10. Good luck MGMT, I'm pulling for you.

Download "Flash Delrium" here

Hear me out

Animal Collective are the Beatles of the 2000s. There, it's been done, and now I'll explain myself. They are not and will never be THE next Beatles, because there will be no NEXT Beatles. AnCo are moving music foward much like the Beatles, and Radiohead, and Nirvana, and (insert any other influential band of the last 20 years). What sets AnCo apart from just any influential, forward thinking band is that they brought back two elements of music that the Beatles used to conquer pop music in the 60s: beauty and weirdness. One can argue Radiohead has done the same, and they have, but AnCo have done it with a child-like optimism like the Beatles did, whereas Radiohead has found beauty in darker corners of rock music. AnCo have thrown away the blueprints of normal song structure without compromising simple pop elegance, becoming infinitely interesting, yet accessible. Unlike the Beatles, they have gone from the strange and weird, only mastering the modern pop song with their 2005 album Feels. Where the Beatles were instantly accessible, then ascending into weird genius, AnCo have had the weirdness and genius (most of the time) from the beginning and honing pop accessibility as they've matured. During the 60s, the Beatles sounded like the future, and in the 2000s-2010s, AnCo sound even further into the future of modern music. If you need examples, I'd tell you to listen to their last 3 albums and 3 EPs, but in a world of Internet inflicted ADD and the death of the album by iTunes, I'll give you a few songs to digest to see if your palette is ready for the full course meals of Feels, Strawberry Jam, and Merriweather Post Pavilion. Try out "Purple Bottle", "Grass", "My Girls", "Bluish", "Fireworks", and "What Do I Want? Sky". They are delicious and nutritious!

What you want can be different from what you need

Call me old fashioned, call me un-punk or dis-indie-franchised, but every time I hear a new band that is achieving genius in their own little room in the world of music, I want everyone to hear, love and accept them for the genius that they are. Is it because I want to share this beauty and enlightenment, this joy that I get from listening to them? Is it because I like rooting for success for the ones that deserve it? Or is it just the plain fact that 80% of mainstream music sucks a big fat dick. And lately, popular music has been choking on that dick and puking on your lap. Call me old fashioned again, but I’m not into getting puked on. However, when it comes to bringing enlightenment to the public and cleaning up the vomit on their lap, there are a few difficulties. For starters, some people liked to be puked on and aren’t down with a nice hearty, sensual blow job. You know, maybe a little deep-throating and a swallow and smile at the end. The beautiful art of fellatio.

OK, enough with the dick-in-mouth metaphors. Some people couldn’t conceive beauty if their name was Mary and God himself impregnated them. Sucks for them. Then there’s the simple problem of taste (I could make another dick reference but I won’t). Some stuff isn’t for everyone. Please see: marijuana, homosexuality, religion, democracy, etc. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and it’s hard to please everyone. Then there’s the simple fact that some bands don’t want to be discovered. Some bands, when there in the bigger room, might not know what to do and shit on themselves. The Strokes did it, ruining their cool pants with rancid new wave diarrhea. Nirvana started to, but then got to the toilet and Kurt flushed. I just wish bands got what the deserved. All this being said, go check out White Denim. They’re from Austin, one of the coolest music scenes of the moment. They play a mash-up of genres that’s difficult to describe. They’ve got a prog-funk-punk-soul thing going. Bottom line, they can play their instruments and have a lot of soul, two things often traded for “being cool”. Give them 5 listens, minimum. If you don’t “get it” in 5, try them one more time. I guarantee you’ll at least appreciate the musical genius even if they’re not for you.

Dear M.O.F., Thank you. Signed Daniel

No, it wasn’t the most exciting, shocking, or entertaining, but dammit, it was worth every single penny to see the most professional rock n roll concert I’ve ever attend. The venue, with its 150-year-old architecture and acoustics crisper than a fresh bag of Doritos, was the perfect showcase for 3 of music’s top song writers at the top of their game coming together like a giant indie rock Voltron called Monsters of Folk. For almost 3 hours these gentlemen, dressed in full suits, served up a 4 course meal of tasty tunes from their own separate catalogs and the M.O.F. album released earlier this year. The highlights consisted of sweet, buttery ballads marinated in each singer’s unique voice and lightly kissed with a zest au guitaire acoustic. Conor Oberst sounded silkier than ever, only returning to his wounded-and-angry boy hiss that we all fell in love with on his Bright Eyes renditions. M. Ward’s sexy Leonard Cohen minus a pack a day croon stole the show on his solo outings. But Jim James stole it right back with his long-lunged southern man-angel howls. The rest was the pure fun flare of three men who loved what they do and do what they love well. This was not a “show”, it was a “concert”. Thank you M.O.F. for putting on the best “concert” I’ve ever seen.

Wal-Mart continues it's complete domination of everything, including indie music

Wal-Mart is now endorsing indie bands, labeling them as the "next big thing". The French band Phoenix is the latest. I'm all for good bands becoming recognized and popular without changing for the label or the common people or "the man", but I'm tired of Wal-Mart having it's giant dollar-sign-shaped hand in EVERYTHING. Stick to what you know best: aging "classic rock" bands greatest hits albums, Nickelback, and maybe the next Kings of Leon album. Leave the rest alone.
To view the madness, click here

P.S. This ad (and possibly this blog) brought to you by AXE HAIR

so i'm a little late on this one....

The name of the band is Battles. Their album entitled Mirrored. Their sound: the soundtrack to the manufacturing and training of a futuristic army with one agenda, total world domination. This band will make even the slackest stoner put down the Pringles and pick up a purpose, even if that purpose is to find the best weed ever (or the tastiest can of Pringles). This is the music to move a generation...in a very methodical, robotic fashion towards greatness. It's almost entirely instrumental, which may turn some of you off, but dammit give it one listen. The few vocals that are here are distorted and hard to translate. The best are the Wizard of Oz soldier chant on helium on the second track "Atlas". Put on headphones and take a walk, or do some chores, and I guarantee you'll never feel lazy or lethargic again.

French kiss some french girls

Computers making music giving you a bad feeling in your insides? Does Autotune kinda make you throw up in your mouth a little every time you here it? Would you like to french kiss some French girls? Than let the Japanroids blow the harddrives of your modern music with their huge guitar noise rock jams. They are just a murderous drummer and a guitarist with an itchy distortion petal who play arty relentless noise punk rock about liking girls. But don't worry, they're not a buncha eyeliner wearing, snifflin emo losers, or whiney pop punk pussies. These guys love to get drunk and french kiss French girls

My only beef with Radiohead

Radiohead makes some of the most beautiful music of any modern rock band on the planet. Their intelligent interstellar musings are the soundtrack of every college student's lonely nights. My one complaint is that they don't rock out enough. "Bodysnatchers", the "hardest" song on their most recent In Rainbows, is Radiohead at their best: churning crunchy guitars that squeal and moan on Johnny Greenwood's command sending Thom Yorke's vocals running for their lives. This type of fury seems to be happening less and less in Radiohead's career and it saddens me so. Please guys, if you are out there listening....rock like it's 1995 again.

The First of the Funeral

It starts like sunshine through your window on the nicest day of the year. A cool breeze of piano keys and guitar chords rustles your hair as you open your eyes to the lyrics. You get up and put on a 5 year old pair of jeans you your favorite t-shirt and walk down to the coffee shop. Then you walk back home, get into your Japanese-made car and drive. Where? You don't know. Do you care? No. Anything and everything will happen today. It's a day that religious peoples would call a revelation. It's a day where you might leave and never come back. "Neighborhood #1" by the Arcade Fire is this day every time I hear it. Funeral, the album it appears on, is a religious experience and this is the first hallelujah.

The black Radiohead?

TV on the Radio is this generation’s Radiohead. Yeah, that’s right. You heard me. I’ll say it again so it will have a chance to rest upon your mortal ears and soak into your soul to be processed, and then thrown back at me like Linda Blair throws pea soup. You may argue TVOTR are from the U.S. and therefore not quite as cool, classy, and intelligent as their rotten-toothed counterparts. To that I say ladies and gentlemen, TVOTR are cooler because they are black. Yeah, that’s right. You heard me. You better get used to this sorta thing if you’re gonna read these rants again. Oh, and not only are they black, they look borderline homeless. Maybe they were a few homeless friends, singing important soul songs on some dirty street of some major city when a chubby, computer nerd with tattoos walks by and asks them if they want to start what will be the defining band of the early 2000s.
Radiohead is the type of band that is in an undefined category of rock; a place where sounds seem to be pulled out of thin air and contorted until they become part a melody. They are expanding the balloon of music around them to the busting point, and their songs will be covered by kids starting generation defining bands for decades to come. TVOTR are doing the same as we speak. True, they have yet to write a concept album (see OK Computer), or an electronic album (see Kid A), but they are throwing music in all new directions and placing the bar almost too high to even do pull-ups on. They are experiment without sacrificing melody, they use electronics without selling their souls. They will be around as long as indie rock is.

a spoon full of whiskey makes the sex go down

Jack White’s newest supergroup, The Dead Weather, would like to personally thank whiskey, cigarettes, and the devil for aiding them in the fight to keep rock n roll dirty and sexy. They will never be the White Stripes when it comes to innovation and the saving of rock music as we know it (remember the late nineties, early 2000?), but they are sludge factory of sex, smoke, and sweat that restores my faith in rock. White returns to the drums, his first instrument, stating that it is easier to produce songs when you control the rhythm and backbone of every song. Allison Mosshart of The Kills provides the sultry lead vocals, while White spits dueling backing from behind the kit. Mosshart seems liberated as White’s mistress of darkness than in her day job with the Kills. Dean Fertita is White’s guitar and organ puppet, laying down those distorted-with-dirt licks that we’ve all come to love from the Stripes. The guitars, not quite as stripped and simple as the Stripes, grind and moan with White’s seventies rock beats. Live, Mosshart resembles a better looking Mick Jagger, failing and dancing about almost preaching the faith of filth to the audience. Jack White can’t help himself; coming up to the forefront to rip the closing track “Will There Be Enough Water?” The answer: no there will never be enough water to put out White’s guitar inferno. Ladies, they will wet your panties, and gentlemen, they will pitch your tent. So put on their new album Horehound and grab a partner “by the hair, and hang [them] up from the heavens”.

Tired of Michael Jackson?

Yeah, we all are. But just in case you thought you've heard every Jackson cover/remix/tribute, you probably haven't heard Discovery's rendition of "I Want You Back". It's hardly recognizable in all of it's electronic bliss. Oh and by the way, you may have never heard of Discovery, but you may have heard of Wes Miles of Ra Ra Riot and his good friend Rostam Batmanglij of Vampire Weekend. Jack White couldn't even put together an indie supergroup like this one...or could he?

The Best? Maybe

Arguments over the interwebs have already started about what will be the best album indie album of ’09. Will it be Dirty Projectors random art-soul on Bitte Orca, or Animal Collective’s gorgeous psychedelic landscape called Merriweather Post Pavilion? Maybe another near perfect installment from America’s Radiohead, Wilco, or Grizzly Bear’s wondrous take on noire Brian Wilson? My pick for the debate isn’t necessarily the best, but it does have my vote for the saddest album of the year. Deer Tick’s Born on Flag Day is everything country used to—and should be: fuck, man, my life sucks, and I think about it too much so let’s crack open a beer, (you can hear that refreshing crack-fizz of a cold, cheap can on the final track, Strung) and spend a “sleepless night, painless and drugged”. You can almost smell the cheap beer and whiskey on the John Joseph McCauley III’s campfire crackle voice as he sings bittersweet sorrows into your ears while dirt plumes off the instruments with every guitar twang. The drum beats are as empty and hollow as McCauley’s hope. This will be the soundtrack to every guy getting dumped at the end of the summer by his girl who’s leaving town. It will be playing at the end of every late-night cookout, when all but three dudes are left, sitting around drinking bud out of cans and talking about how they’re not getting laid tonight.