The notion of anticipated albums is a strange one, as the greater the desire for new music from an artist grows, the more difficult it is for the appetite to be fulfilled. This year, we received a new album from My Bloody Valentine that managed to deliver on a 22-year wait, but this seems like an exception rather than the rule.
‘My Lighthouse,’ the opening track on Villagers’ second album ‘{Awayland},’ sounds a lot like the songs on their 2010 debut ‘Becoming a Jackal.’ It’s soft, moody and played entirely by singer-songwriter Conor J. O’Brien with no outside support. But then ‘{Awayland}’ takes a different shape, as sprinklings of electronic rubble, a weighty backing and a full band enter the scene.
It’s not too difficult to forgive the British music press’ typically overenthusiastic response to Jake Bugg’s self-titled debut album. With so much prefabricated pop polluting the airwaves these days, what’s not to like about a 19-year-old singer-songwriter from Nottingham who has a serious thing for pre-‘Blonde on Blonde’ Bob Dylan and pre-burnout Oasis? Apparently, many of their countrymen feel the same way: ‘Jake Bugg’ reached No. 1 on the U.K. chart when it was released in October.
The most revealing track on Paramore’s fourth album is also its thinnest. “Let them play their songs, let them say what’s right and wrong / ... I could be angry, but you’re not worth the fight, and besides, I’m moving on,” Hayley Williams sings on the 90-second ‘Interlude: Moving On,’ a brief ukulele-strummed throwaway that shows up a third of the way through ‘Paramore.’ It’s the most disposable track on an overlong album that has several of them. But it’s also the record’s statement of purpose.
If you had to pick one track that best represents the Besnard Lakes sound, it'd be 'The Spectre,' a gushing waterfall of sonic mysticism from the band's fourth studio album, 'Until in Excess, Imperceptible UFO.' The track -- like the Canadian quartet itself -- is a throwback to the heady spectrum of late-'70s psych-rock, the golden age in which prog and pop were briefly aligned. In its expansive six-and-a-half minutes, 'The Spectre' moves from spacey textural mist to thunderous black-magic churn, blending the polished formalism of classic-period ELO (reflected in Jace Lasek's ghostly falsetto and jazzy wurtlizer) and the grandiose wollop of Pink Floyd.
Tyler, the Creator doesn't rap a single line on 'Wolf,' the eponymous intro of his third studio album. But, in its two minutes of overblown absurdity, that track defines this 22-year-old provocateur's overall musical identity: swirling psych-jazz keys, bombastic trap-kit blasts, pointless button-pushing and profanity-laced showboating. "I think you're a f---ing fag," Tyler sings -- in a guttural, tuneless moan -- igniting a parade of tired F-bombs. One track later, on the Neptunes-aping sprawl of 'Jamba,' he begs a skank for fellatio -- seconds later, he's begging for his inhaler.
Music reviews rarely mention the press bio that arrives with the album in question, but almost all reference these PR missives without saying so. These brief descriptions of the artist and their processes vary as much as the records they accompany, in everything from form to quality.
'Ride Your Heart' is the debut album from L.A's Bleached, but if you want to trace the band's origins, you can start after the 2009 breakup of Jennifer and Jessica Clavin's previous collaboration, local favorite Mika Miko. And while a couple of years and a stint for Jennifer in Cold Cave delayed the group's first single, it's still been two years since the sisters began pumping out 7-inches, with no clear road map detailing if, when or for whom they might record a full-length.
Alkaline Trio are reliable in all the right ways, and since the mid-'90s, the band has served listeners with a unique, inventive hybrid of power-pop and punk that runs close to the musical equivalent of comfort food. Their output is generally consistent, and with each new album, members of their rabid fan base pretty much know what they're getting.
In the past decade, some no-talent ass-clown indie bands have attempted to make overarrangement an art form -- concocting songs with way too many vocoders, keytars, beatz (yeah, with a "z"), xylophones and tubas. And to what end? Sounding more Eno than Eno? Pshaw!
