Review: Wild Nothing, Gemini

Wild Nothing

Gemini

8.5/10

If you are like me, you took one glimpse at the wholly discomforting album cover of Wild Nothing’s Gemini, and immediately grabbed at your own face to make sure that you still possess your highly desirable lower jaw. It’s not unlike waking from a fraught dream, shaking off the sleep and scouring your body to account for everything being intact. The sensation of reverie is entirely fitting for Wild Nothing, whose aptly pegged “80’s dream-pop” treads the familiar while never escaping the surreal throughout the artist’s wonderful debut album.

Hailing from Blacksburg, VA, Jack Tatum of Wild Nothing does not shy away from the dream association; instead, he welcomes it from the very first track, “Live in Dreams.” With Gemini, Tatum constructs a musical world saturated with shimmering synths and reverberating guitar, creating the blissful mood that never falters for the duration of the album. His voice floats and drifts, sometimes for several seconds, seeming both all-encompassing and completely out of reach at any given moment. The lyrics teem with unfulfilled sentiments and suppressed yearning (“Where are you going?/Can I come with you/I don’t feel right when you’re not here.”), but under the layers of hazy texture, the pain never seems acute. Compartmentalized in this other-worldly space, Tatum’s troubled emotions are only passing, and a sense of peace persists as each track fades to a gentle close.

The clarity of Wild Nothing’s expressiveness is refreshingly welcome, as the pervading anesthetic atmosphere takes the edge off the Tatum’s sharp reflection. The entire album has a well-conceived rhythm, and as such, no one song is worthy of a skip. A full listen without interruption is surprisingly comforting, especially during the summer months when music often aims for stand-alone anthems. That’s not to say that Gemini does not have its clear breakout moments; “Chinatown,” for one, exudes exuberance and conveys the restlessness that so often accompanies the mid-year break. Another album hightlight, “O, Lilac,” features a bouncing acoustic melody and is decidedly upbeat in comparison to the rest of the LP.

Sure, Wild Nothing sticks to a consistent musical formula, and doesn’t introduce any particularly novel concepts. But the strength of Tatum’s composition is unwavering, and maintained a inescapable grip on my own attention within every listening moment. Ultimately, the cool lushness of Gemini provides the perfect counterbalance to the sweet, beachy, sun-soaked albums that have become commonplace in the summer of 2010, and will have staying power long after the warm months dissipate into the crispness of autumn.

Worth many listens: “Chinatown”; “O, Lilac”; “Summer Holiday”; “Confirmation”

--Scott Lensing

Review: Band of Horses, Infinite Arms

Band of Horses

Infinite Arms

4.0 out of 10 disappointed fans

There it was, on display at the Whole Foods register, double-teamed by Jack Johnson and Michael Bublé: Infinite Arms, the latest release from Band of Horses. “Bwah?” No one around me would have known it, but I was immediately ashamed. How did my beloved band find themselves in the snoozer company of adult-contemporary all-stars who rhapsodize about banana pancakes (delicious, no doubt) and impersonate Frank Sinatra?

A phenomenal debut and an excellent sophomore album raised expectations for this third LP from the Seattle-turned-Carolina rockers. However, what should have cemented of Band of Horses’ place as one of the most satisfying acts in indie rock instead represented a dive into a limbo of lazily meandering melodies. I probably should have seen the writing on the wall, as lead singer Ben Bridwell remains the sole original member of the band. Even when the video for the first single, “Compliments,” previewed in early April, with its bizarre montage of nature photos, I refused to believe that more of this risk-averse music would come on the album. Of course, I was wrong.

If Cease to Begin was one totally acceptable step from Everything All the Time into more accessible song-craft, then Infinite Arms is a leap into substanceless tunes. From start to finish, not one song truly stands out from the rest, an absolutely glaring change from their previous efforts that reverberated indefinitely in my head for days and weeks at a time. Multiple-part harmony with a Southern-rock tinge reigns the day on this record, usually accompanied by a daintily strummed acoustic guitar and nominally tapped drums. The wondrous reverb is gone, as this album relies completely on the pleasant but lackluster vocals that constitute the foundation for each and every track.

The only remaining constants of today’s Band of Horses are Bridwell’s lovely and expansive voice, and an abundance of beards. Despite the nature motifs of this LP, the songs fail to reach into the infinite abyss as they once did; the vocals are altogether contained and restrained. Bridwell’s pipes no longer haunt nor unsettle, but instead breeze past the listener without taking root. Lyrics like “If there’s a God up in the air/Someone looking over everyone/At least you got something to fall back on” are straightforward and uninspired, with a sense of contentedness to just have someone listen to the singers’ musings. Songs such as “Blue Beard” resemble dated 1970s love-ballads, and don’t elicit more than an unimpressed sigh. Ironically, even with tunes that spill over with affections and aches, this record lacks heart.

And I don’t strive to be overly harsh, but I can’t help but discuss at length my disappointment with a band that I once held dear. It just seems that with the well-deserved success of their first two albums, Band of Horses, and Bridwell more specifically, made an indulgent record that they knew could ride on the coattails of fan loyalty. While Whole Foods’ prominent recognition of the group is not a damning sign in and of itself, it is certainly an indication that the band had lost its creative and compelling identity. Let’s hope that, somehow, Band of Horses regain their unshakable sound on the next effort..

Meh…: “On My Way Back Home” and “For Annabelle”

-Scott Lensing

Concert Review: The New Pornographers, The Dodos, Imaad Wasif @ The Fox Theater

The New Pornographers w/ The Dodos and Imaad Wasif

The Fox Theater (Oakland, CA)

July 18, 2010

Everything was going perfectly according to plan— until they started singing.  From the moment Dodos frontman Meric Long first spoke into the microphone, people in the audience perplexedly tilted their head à la a Jack Russell terrier, looked at the speakers overhead, and then back to Long.  The vocals were muffled and distant, making even music-free banter between songs almost inaudible.  His words were nearly completely indiscernible.  The audience clearly was missing most everything that was said or sung, so why wasn’t the Fox Theater sound crew even attempting to fix this obvious problem?

After a 43-year period of inactivity, the Fox Theater reopened in early 2009, and by all appearances is one of the premiere venues in the Bay Area.  Yet for all its interior beauty, the theater has continued to have problems with perfecting their sound quality, which is a real shame when two class acts like The New Pornographers and The Dodos are playing on the same night.  But as percussive elements rule The Dodos’ live performances, and as this was also a primarily New Pornographers crowd, no one in the audience raised a public fuss during the local band’s set.  The Dodos stuck mostly to songs from their touchstone album Visiter, a smart move that capitalized on their natural energy and instrumental rawness.  Acoustic guitar, drums and vibraphone, played at full force, were all they needed to at the very least sustain the interest of an older, geekier crowd than they normally see.  The band soldiered on, with songs like “Fools” and “Jodi” surging into cathartic releases and serving as reminders of how percussion can wonderfully dominate when laid out loud and bare. 

Review: Maps and Atlases, Perch Patchwork

Maps & Atlases

Perch Patchwork

4 out of 5 smilies

“I don’t think there is a sound that I hate more, than the sound of your voice.” Yikes. No, these are not the words of a recently burned high school boy, scribbling furiously on a scrap of crumpled college-ruled paper to his ex-gf of all of three weeks. Rather, this is the very first line melodically uttered by Maps & Atlases’ lead singer Dave Davison on the band’s debut LP, Perch Patchwork. But much like the songs that ensue, these lyrics prove to be more playful than contemptuous, setting the tone for the Chicago group’s entirely refreshing first full-length effort.

Maps & Atlases fit nicely under the banner of experimental pop, with an elusively familiar sound that refuses to confuse itself with stylistic orientation of any one group. Nimble guitar-work, quick percussive touches, and occasional orchestral flourishes mirror the bright inflection of froggy-voiced Davison, providing pleasant interplay between instrumentals and vocals. Neither the technically-sharp music nor Davison’s vocal contribution dominate the record, and both emit crispness in tandem that lends undeniable levity to the record, from start to all-too-soon finish.

As opposed to simply a collection of similar stand-alone songs, Perch Patchwork is a decisively cohesive album. The breaks between songs are rarely recognizable, as one idea melds stealthily into the next. While the majority of tracks clock in just under the three-minute mark, the frequently seamless transitions give the impression of drawn-out, cascading arrangements. “Solid Ground” is the only song that feels anything like a distinguishable single, with instrumentals reminiscent of the inner tinkering of the Keebler elf workshop (definitely a good attribute). Surprisingly, even with the flowing continuations on the album, Maps & Atlases never truly achieve any sense of robustness or concreteness. Pop often gets slammed for its lack of substance, and if Perch Patchwork falls short anywhere, it’s in its failure to strongly defy this common conception. Nevertheless, while the songs can seem individually fleeting, the sum total remains a lovely work of sharply crafted music sprinkled with just enough musical treasures.
Worth a peek: “Living Decorations”; “Solid Ground”; “Pigeon”

--Scott Lensing

Concert Review: Sasquatch! Music Festival

In the final weekend of May, West coast WGTB warrior Scott Lensing took extensive notes on his experience at the Sasquatch! Music Festival in order to relate to loyal blog readers the performances, the atmosphere, and the best new upcoming college-rock bands. Below, Scott's account, with awesome pictures-- here's to hoping we see many of these bands come through the District in the next year.

Sasquatch! Music Festival

The Gorge; George, Washington

May 29-31, 2010

Never have I looked forward to a music festival with such giddy anticipation, with such unrealistic expectations for sonic fulfillment. The lineup? Stellar. The venue? Debilitating in its beauty. The company? Debaucherous. I knew that when I woke up on May 29, it would be the Christmas morning to top all Christmas mornings.

And so it began on the wonderfully sunny Saturday afternoon of Memorial Day weekend. Three hours southeast of Seattle, the Gorge could very well be a worthy destination for a family of four embarking upon a road trip, parents determined to expose their restless, Nintendo-addicted children to the glory of the American frontier.

But Sasquatch is certainly no place for a family. It is precisely the place, however, for a group of young ruffians looking to indulge in the sights and sounds of some of the best indie rock/pop/folk around. The clientele was surprisingly young, so much so that at times I oddly felt like a geezer. Young co-eds generally could be seen bopping about, faces freshly smeared with paint and multi-colored feathers artfully stuck in their hair. Somewhat surprisingly, Canadians abounded at the festival, with red maple leaves of every size and form on display on their cars, bodies, and bags. I was a foreigner in my own country.

The music (oh, the music!) was so captivating, though, that I was never distracted from the artists by the antics of some choice audience members. Sasquatch is comprised of four stages, with the Gorge Amphitheatre (pictured above) as the crown jewel of them all, hosting the biggest names that the festival had to offer. This stage in particular maintains a great balance for the variety of fans and musical acts. Its sloping, grassy hillside pleases those who like to experience their music lying inertly prostrate. Others, myself included, are free to dance around on the generous floor space in front of the stage.

(Check out the pics below or here and read more of Scott's article after the jump)

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Review: Jonsi, Go

 Jonsi

Go

A-  

 

In the midst of the toil and stress that accompanies final month of the semester, few things can lift your (re: my) spirits like a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Oatmeal Cookie Chunk ice cream. But as you (see also: I) put down your spoon after killing the entire damn cylinder of frozen dairy goodness, nothing else stands between you and that 17-page research paper. All seems lost.  But wait!  A heavenly voice from your computer beckons your ears, delivering a smile and a refreshing sigh of brief relief.  Perhaps Jónsi can make everything better.

            The lead singer from the lovely Icelandic band Sigur Rós, Jónsi released his debut solo album Go earlier this month. Anyone accustomed to Sigur Rós’s consistently ethereal sound should not be all too surprised by Jónsi’s newest work, and yet such familiarity doesn’t dull the warmly emotive reaction that Go elicits.  With Go, Jónsi maintains his wonderful sense of pacing that he has exhibited with Sigur Rós, but instead of falling in and out of earshot with textured instrumentals building and then releasing, Jónsi asserts the soft, resounding power of his own voice as the foundation for one of the year’s best records thus far.

            Jónsi opted to sing the majority of his debut album in English rather than his usual fictional Vonleska (“Hopelandic”), but truthfully, understanding the lyrics matters little in appreciating this offering.  Jónsi’s falsetto dominates the entire record, occasionally in moments beautiful melancholy, but primarily with inspiring crescendos directed at no one in particular.  Go is equally dramatic as Jónsi’s past efforts, but with greater accessibility and a heightened sense of wonder (if that’s possible).  Album highlight “Boy Lilikoi” will surely test your heart’s ability to flutter, and take flight it will.  “Tornado” takes a darker turn, as Jónsi whispers “You grow from the inside/Destroy everything through,” balancing out an otherwise life-affirming album.

Strings, woodwind, piano, and all flavors of percussive goodies form complex layers in support of Jónsi’s voice, all of which meld into a fantastically produced album. The record easily could have fallen flat with shoddy studio work, but Go proves to have just enough polish to tap the potential of Jónsi’s skyward sound while not hampering the Icelander’s sonically evasive nature.  Go pulses, drives, sinks, but only briefly, recovering quickly to rise above cloud cover.  Allow yourself to coo throughout, even if finals bear down your newly goosebumped neck.

Highlights: “Go Do”; “Boy Lilikoi”; “Around Us”

 

-- Scott Lensing

Review: Rogue Wave, Permalight

Rogue Wave

Permalight

C+ 

 

After hearing the early release of Rogue Wave’s new keyboard-heavy single, “Good Morning,” in January, I had what many music fans might call a “Huh?” moment.  Did this electro-beat track mark the beginning of a new direction for a band that can proudly point to three well-crafted, guitar-driven records in their catalogue? 

With the Rogue Wave’s new album, Permalight, lead singer Zach Rogue expressed that he wanted to focus on the “visceral experience of hearing music and letting your body move to it.”  Undoubtedly, Permalight is in large part the emergent product of Rogue’s health problems within the last two years, which included several anxiously immobile, bed-ridden months.  Permalight is thus a highly life-affirming album, trending more towards celebratory moments than the inquisitive frustration that had previously marked the band’s work. (more after the jump)

Review: Mumford & Sons, Sigh No More

 

Mumford & Sons

Sigh No More

B-

by Scott Lensing

Slowly gaining buzz over the year prior to the release of their first album, Mumford and Sons finally debuted their first full-length LP, Sigh No More, in October of 2009.  The “folk ‘n’roll” band had gained a spot in a forward-looking December 2008 list constructed by BBC entitled “Sound of 2009,” which included fourteen other artists, the likes of Lady Gaga, Kid Cudi, and Passion Pit included.  Mumford and Sons’ anthemic style perhaps makes their inclusion in this list less bizarre, but only slightly. The Londoners instead sound a bit like Appalachian transports who have settled in the Amercian Northwest, their music recalling Americana colored with wisps of harmonious chamber pop.