Tag Archive: Singles Club


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One of the strangest things, to me, pop culturally, is how Liv Tyler could have possibly been conceived from Steven Tyler.  Dude’s an ugly man, for certain.  Let’s pause for a second and consider the possible scenarios here.  First, maybe Liv got the recessive genetic traits, long dormant in the Tyler line.  Perhaps a secondary hypothetical might discuss the toll drugs and excess have taken on the Aerosmith front man, and this plays into the whole mix.  In any case, Liv Tyler, to me, has always embodied a kind of graceful poise; she’s a pearl and her father is the brine-beaten shell.  I suppose it makes sense somewhat.  At age nine, she found out she was rock royalty.  She now flies in helicopters to movie shoots; she’s never had to worry a day in her life.  Soft skin, gorgeous smile.  She’s never had to mow the yard, clean a bathroom, or more aptly, live in squalor with we lesser folk.

All this to lead into the latest Roadside Graves track that showed up on Stereogum this morning.  The prolific New Jersey act is delivering their Americana hybrid of folk, guitar stomp, and barstool anthem yet again on 3/16 through Aquarium Drunkard’s amazing spinoff label, Autumn ToneYou Won’t Be Happy With Me is a six-song collection that we’re eager to put our ears to as soon as possible.  Last year’s stellar LP, My Son’s Home is near and dear to me at all times.  This newest track, “Liv Tyler” is a 7 1/2 minute ass-shaking saloon romp with enough punch and vibe to send me to the repeat button six times before settling in to write this post.  Piano arpeggios sprinkle the background while John Gleason raspily delivers emotionally epic vocals.  A jumpy breakdown about midway through increases tempo and the pianos rise upward out of the background, paired with a bluesy and frenetic guitar solo.  Stereogum mentions that the six songs o the newest effort a touch darker, exploring more spacious areas.  If this track is any indication, we love where Roadside Graves is moving.  When my favorite folky rock band can palm mute their way to anthemic highs, I can get behind it.

As far as Liv Tyler, well, I smirk when I hear the lyrics.  I don’t know, who’s baby you are is repeated early on in the song.  Obviously somebody’s on the same page as me.

Roadside Graves – Liv Tyler

Buy My Son’s Home at Insound now!

Roadside Graves Official Site

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Independent rock and roll seems cleanly cleaved into a couple different groups, at least when it comes to the role sex plays: asexual well-behaved (largely) pale dudes in skinny jeans and hyper-sexual bad boys, also largely pale and donning the ever-present skinny jeans. Electric Tickle Machine falls clearly into the latter category, with lyrics about pussy power and disease complemented by a sex-pout style seen on frontmen throughout the history of rock. I mean, shit, their debut release, Blew It Again, has a faceless lassie’s not quite covered at all breasts featured pretty darn prominently on the cover!

Complete with loud messy guitars, a rich layering of sound, and some pretty killer drumming, the songs on Blew It Again strikes me as something The Flaming Lips could’ve recorded in the 90s had they moved away from psychadelia toward semi-mainstream indie rock style rather than avant garde art rock. This is particularly true for the title track as well as “Part of Me,” while “Gimme Money” seems to have a touch of The Clash in it.

 Electric Tickle Machine sound like your jam? Then check them out as they continue on their cross-country tour. They hit Citizen Dick hometown Cleveland TONIGHT with a gig at Now That’s Class, and continue westward to the Pacific Northwest, down south through California, and back east through Texas to tour ender Memphis.

Electric Tickle Machine – Blew It Again

Electric Tickle Machine – Part of Me

Electric Tickle Machine – Gimme Money

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Debate time, friends. Here’s your prompt:

Is Nick Diamonds the hipster answer to Justin Timberlake?

islands

This is what I’ve been asking myself lately anyway, at least since the last Islands record, Vapours, came out last month on Anti-. The song that’s really behind this particular topic of wonder, “No You Don’t,” has been bouncing around the internet since July, and while the general spin on Vapours is that it is more minimalistic than previous Diamonds offerings, I’ll argue that “No You Don’t” fits in better with the chaotic, multi-layered music that characterized earlier work.

As a track, “No You Don’t” is a song of reasonably good advice, from the opening lyrics warning the listener not to buy dope from a man you don’t know through the very end of the song. Swirling between, around, and over the top of the lyrics is a churning beauty of a hook, adorned like a Christmas tree with quacking guitar licks, old school keyboard tones (perhaps on marimba setting?), and a delightfully off-kilter drum machine.

As is often the case when it comes to his work, it is Diamonds’ delivery that sells the moment (and also begs the Timberlake comparison, though we are talking more SNL guest appearance JT than the FutureSex/LoveSounds iteration), from the split-second falsetto feints to the near-hound dog pronunciation of long “o” sentence-enders (i.e., brew, stew, do, you, etc.).

Sometimes when you let a few weeks go by between an album’s release and your first serious listen, you end up never really getting into the material. Don’t let this happen to you on this one.

Islands – No You Don’t

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gamble2Hit play on the lead single from the recently released Electric Owls’ record Ain’t Too Bright. Listen to that sweet acoustic intro, backed by a subtly dancing bell sound, punctuated by a hard rock power chord at the ten second mark, launching into sweet multi-tracked vocals ranting about telekenesis and so on.  The rest of the song is clearly good, but the first thirty seconds or so are truly amazing.  The interplay of soft and loud, the vaguely seventies vibe of the vocals, the grandiose nature of the whole presentation all hit me right between the eyes. The rest of the song vacillates between the two extremes established in that stellar first thirty seconds, floating from eardrum shaking loud to flowered blouse soft.  There are even some manipulated vocals at the end to put a bit of an exclamation point on the throwback nature of the track.  I have not heard the rest of Ain’t Too Bright, but I’m itching to get my fingers on it.  At the very least, Oscar Gamble would give the track a thumbs up.  (Not because the song makes me think of Foghat, but because Oscar Gamble is a noted music critic.  Unbeknownst to many fans of both the Cleveland Indians and internet-based music-driven navel gazing, Gamble founded the off-line predecessor of Said the Gramophone during the 1975 season.  He printed Orated the Omphalos as a five page fanzine that he hand mailed to paying subscribers; it was packed with pretentious vignettes about Nick Drake and shit.  True story.)

One more thing in favor of Electric Owls: I’m lazy with the scroll bar, so I typically type a half-assed search term into the itunes to save some mouse work.  For Electric Owls, I typed “electric” (obviously), which meant that Electric Ladyland played right after “Magic Show” wrapped up.  Which means that “Voodoo Child” started as soon as that last “magic” faded into oblivion.  Which means that I got a little unexpected dose of Hendrix with my indie rock today, which is always welcome.

Electric Owls – Magic Show

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TheSoftPack

I’m not going to lie and pretend we don’t post remixes on this site, because we do.  Ten times out of eleven, however, the remixes are only mildly interesting to me.  Many times I find them revolting and really dislike the way people run with other songs and launch themselves in viral popularity because of someone else’s musicianship.  I suppose, in that sense, it’s a bit of a cop-out.  I haven’t personally posted a Don Diablo track for this exact reason.  Strategically timely email notifications about new mixes don’t appeal to me usually.

This is why hit’s nice to get a good one that flies through our inboxes.  It’s also nice to see an actual rock band mixing things up a bit.  Additionally, it’s also nice when a band that is successful in its own right decides to tackle another successful track.  It shouldn’t be a secret that The Soft Pack released a hell of an album in the early months of this year.  I’ve mentioned it on numerous occasions as one of my favorites of the year.  The Soft Pack’s gutsy garage sound is a huge boon to Phoenix’s “Fences.” The upcoming remix album that’s bound to explode the internet really benefits from versions like this.  Most of the tracks I’ve heard leave me indifferent.  The Soft Pack, however,  packages it up just the way I like it.  Slurred with gravelly non-chalance and a sneer.  Word.  Enjoy the tune.

Phoenix – Fences (The Soft Pack Remix)

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gypsy curseI’m home from work today because the right side of my face is swollen to roughly twice its normal size.  My doctor gave me some antibiotics, hypothesizing that I was bitten in my sleep by some sort of nefarious insect.  I have a slightly wilder theory.  I believe a gypsy put a curse on me.  I was haggling over the price of a donkey this weekend with a travelling band of Eastern Europeans and secured what I thought was an excellent deal for both parties.  The state of my face implies that the gypsy thought she got a raw deal.  I am currently applying a poultice of ground chicken livers and unicorn tears to my grill, hoping for the best.  (This is a tough ethical decision for me, in that I am a vegetarian, but I’ve decided to put my personal mores to the side in the interest of having a normally sized face again.)  If you don’t hear from me next week, it is because I have travelled to Uzbekistan to seek a powerful mage.  Good times!

My gypsy-cursed face is, however, your benefit.  I got a super sweet track from Kansas City duo I Love You in the electronic mail this morning.  The boys bring the raucous art-punk, with swirling atonality and generalized noisification.  Further, non-sequiturs in the title always catch my eye.  The press release for I Love You describes the band’s sound as DIY punk crossed with dub bass.  That’s a weird combo, but it works completely.  You’ll be tapping your toes while this one plays.  While the poultice seeps into my hell-ravaged dome, it’s a nice distraction.  I Love You’s second record, Bell Ord Forrest comes out on Joyful Noise on October 27.  It’s perfect music if you’re banishing any evil spirits from your person and/or home.

I Love You – The Colloquialism is Simply “Gas”

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nurses love cloth

I just wrapped up an annotated bibliography (you’re reading this on Thursday afternoon, but I’m writing it in the wee hours of Thursday morning).  Annotated bibliographies are inherently soul-sucking: read, summarize, evaluate, repeat as necessary.  Granted, I have a slightly deeper understanding of my potential dissertation topic now, but my eyeballs might fall out of my head.  And I’ve had way too much coffee.  I turned to my electronic mail for some good news (there is no good news in annotated bibliography land, only lather, rinse, repeat).  I opened up an email from the Dead Oceans people to see the bearded hippie above staring at me.  It’s nice to know that, somewheres in the world, there are folks spinning blankets around and taking pictures of it; it kind of balances out my drab academic work, I think.

I also love that Nurses apparently hate articles.  Definite or indefinite, these dudes do not seem to be down with (I’d argue) one of our more useful parts of speech.  (I mean a car as opposed to the car is a pretty handy distinction to make, right?)  I like that kind of iconoclastic eschewing of traditional grammar.  The Nurses would just sound lame, right?

Those diversions aside, “Technicolor” is a legitimately sweet track, a meandering, quasi-psychedelic romp with mildly unsettling vocals and restrained instrumentation.  Just the sort of thing to talk you off the ledge of a caffeine bender.  Nurses are touring with Citizen Dick favorites Le Loup (who apparently only like French articles, so this is a match made in heaven).  They won’t be stopping in Cleveland, sadly, but the rest of the nation should turn out for these fellows.

Nurses – Technicolor

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morningbell

The first time the singer from Morningbell (it’s either Travis or Eric Atria; they’re both listed on vocals and I don’t know the band well enough to tell them apart note: we got late breaking news from the band that Travis is the one who pumps this (and the rest of the vocals) out) laces into the phrase “We’re marching off to war” in the new song of the same name, right around the one minute mark, your ears are going to pick up; it sounds exactly like Perry Farrell circa 1990.  I shit you not.  The same gravelly, power packed delivery melting into primal howl that Perry perfected on “Mountain Song” is all over the vocals on “Marching Off to War,” which is undeniably a good thing.

That one vocal line is the thing that grabbed me by the throat about the song, but the rest of it is pretty sweet as well; the shuffling, vaguely foreign percussion, the mildly spacey lyrical content and the overall vibe of skewed confidence all hit the right notes for me on this track.  “Marching Off to War” is on Morningbell’s upcoming fourth record, Sincerely Severely (out December 1 (which seems like a long way off, but really isn’t)).  The aforementioned Trevor Atria described the recording of the record as such: “We worked like motherfuckers on this one.  And it shows.”  Indeed!  Assuming the rest of the record is to the caliber of the track below, we’ll have more coverage as the leaves start to turn golden.

Morningbell – Marching Off to War

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theskydrops-appalachia

We here at Citizen Dick World Enterprises like to stay ahead of the curve, or at least in pace with it. Sometimes, however, we miss a beat. We’ve taken one another to task for such ball droppage in the past and promise to continue doing so. While we cannot go back in time and fix such mistakes, we can reach back into the near past and drop a tasty nugget of tunage (apparently I’m channeling Phish today) for you to check out.

Such is the case with today’s singles club entry, “Truth Is” from The Sky Drops recent album, Bourgeois Beat. Hailing from Delaware, which itself is strange, since the sound has Los Angeles virtually encoded into it, The Sky Drops bring some of the freshest fuzzy psych-pop I’ve heard in quite some time, a sonic smoothie blended together with equal parts Film School, Neil Young, and Blinker the Star.

The duo that comprise The Sky Drops – guitarist Rob Montejo and drummer Monika Bullette – stick to classic shoegaze theory with Bourgeois Beat, keeping it simple and, in doing so, decisive and deliciously bad-ass. These guys aren’t jacking up their sound, adding unnecessary nuance. Instead, they are going to the roots of the genre, which isn’t much of a trek for Montejo, given his former membership in seminal shoegazer band, Smashing Orange. In other words, what you have here are a pair of musicians that know what they want to do and know how to do it, and aren’t gonna get all po-mo glitchy on your ass in order to score a critical point here or there. In other other words, check this shit out, pronto.

While you are at it, check out the video for “Truth Is” – it reminds me of something Godard’s grandson might’ve done after watching
The French Connection and jamming to “Sabotage” on his ipod, en route to the shoot.

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The Sky Drops – Truth Is

The Sky Drops – Swimming with Fishes

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strickencity1

Let me be clear, I don’t dance. I never could dance. I never will dance. I am the Sir Nose of dancing. (Put me down, let go my leg, etc.)

Given this, it shouldn’t be surprising for you to learn that I tend not to like “dance” music. (I put that word in quotation marks because one could dance to anything, even silence. Clearly, I’m referring to a particular genre of music. Don’t be coy – you know exactly what I’m talking about. Stop being a contrarian.)

However, when I do like “dance” music, I tend to really like it, almost becoming a secular evangelist (read: my borderline-obsessive and hysterical endorsement of the recent Phenomenal Handclaps album).

Thanks to London group Stricken City, we might have another case of hysterics and obsession on our hands. We won’t know for a little while yet, as they haven’t dropped their album, but judging from their single, “Pull the House Down,” there’s a solid chance.

Even with the four-on-the-floor club beat which is usually an excellent predictor that I will not like a song, “Pull the House Down” possesses a charm and indie edge that overcomes my bias almost immediately. The fact that Rebekah Raa has a voice that combines the throaty poutiness of Victoria Bergstrom with the prettiness of Françoise Hardy doesn’t hurt. Also, maracas. When was the last time they sounded so cool?

Stricken City – Pull the House Down

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throw a stone - get it

You can’t throw a rock in Cleveland without hitting Beaten Awake.  Since our launch in January, we’ve seen the Kent natives open for Heartless Bastards and Crocodiles. (And one other act, I think, but it escapes me.  Little help?)  In the next couple of months, they’ll warm things up for Built to Spill and Meat Puppets when those acts blow through Cleveland.  The band’s second record will be out on Fat Possum soon, featuring production work from Patrick Carney (you know, the Black Key that isn’t Dan Auerbach).  In short, Beaten Awake have been on the Cleveland radar for awhile.

It’s been clear from the first time we caught them that Beaten Awake was full of talented dudes, but it’s always seemed to us that they’ve been a step away from putting it together.  There are points during their sets when you hear a snatch of something really startling, but it’s always seemed like a kind of promising triple-A first baseman kind of thing.  The lead single from the upcoming record both confirms our suspicions that these cats know what time it is and implies that the day that Beaten Awake put all the pieces together is on the horizon.  It’s a three-minute nugget of sweet, synth-fuzz, wistful lyrics and a strong, emotion-laden conclusion.  We’re stoked to hear the rest of Thunder$Troke (which might not be the hottest name for a record, but whatever), because another local band that rocks is always a good thing.

Beaten Awake – Coming Home

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school looks like it sucked in the fifties or whenever

I’m just rolling in from Open House, that yearly celebration of the start of a new school year that keeps me at work for a fifteen-hour day.  I stumbled into the parking lot, bleary-eyed and hoarse-throated, turned the key on the Dickmobile and had the sad thought that I have to be back in the same spot in nine hours.  My Pops always breaks my balls in the summer, telling me that I only have a part time gig.  In short, my ass.

When I got home, I kissed a nearly slumbering Mrs. Citizen on the cheek and opened up my e-mail, hoping for some sort of good news.  It came, happily, in the form of “Pyramids” from Inner Banks.  Inner Banks are a married couple, Caroline Schutz and David Gould.  She has a gorgeous voice.  They seem to have a fluidly ragged group of folks who pop in and play on their records.  Their second album, Songs from Disko Bay, drops tomorrow on DAG! Records.

Imagine a scenario where you’re in a band with your wife; you’ve got a kind of French salon of musicians rolling into your gracefully aging home, staying up to all hours, cranking out tunes, swilling red wine.  You wake to the sounds of crickets and birds and shit and start writing new songs over morning coffee.  It’s probably not that idyllic, but it would be sweet if it was.  I’m going to encourage Mrs. Citizen to get some piano lessons.  I’ll play the drums.  I’ll keep you abreast of any developments.

Inner Banks – Pyramids

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every indie band has at least one ginger

I’m still sick, but this track from the upcoming Shaky Hands album is perking up the old spirits a bit.  If the rest of the record is as good as “Allison and the Ancient Eyes,” we’re all in for a treat.  Am I the only one who hears classic Elvis Costello here, some sort of distant genetic relationship to “Oliver’s Army,” maybe?  (Am I hearing this connection because the word “Allison” is in the title or because I’m on my seventh dose on Nyquil?)  In any event, the jangly, straightforwardness of the song is a delight, as is the pleading vocal tone of Nick Delffs.  I like the looseness, I like the feel.  I want to move to Portland.  We’ll have more on this record as the release date approaches.

The Shaky Hands – Allison and the Ancient Eyes

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socks or whatever

You ever get in a mood where you want something really overt and straight ahead?  A bass line, shuffling drum beat, slurred lyrics, loud guitars?  Non-sequiturs?  Kind of a classically conceived rock song?  Lots of posturing and sneering, but without the layer of hipster cynicism that can grow so tiresome (not naming any names, but -cough-Dirty Projectors-cough-)?  That’s a ton of rhetorical questions, but, hopefully, you catch the drift.  I’m more guilty than most in indulging in overthought flights of art that require dissection and quiet contemplation, but every once in a while I want to shut off the brain, roll down the windows and turn up the speakers.  Calypso hits all of those notes with aplomp.  “Casually Sad Mercedes” is three and a half minutes of directness that begs you to shut the hell up and just nod your head for a minute.  No reason to talk about Heidegger while you listen to this track.  A beer in hand might be of use, hoewever.  Calypso has an EP out at present, which ought to provide a solid soundtrack for doing rock and roll shit, like shooting pool or shacking up with a model.  Good times.

Calypso – Casually Sad Mercedes

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Shelley Short image

The latest edition of our Singles Club feature comes to us from beautiful and mournful Portland, the West Coast’s answer to NYC’s Billy-burg and home to gentle indie chanteuse Shelley Short. Miss Short will shortly (wonder how many times that pun has been used and abused) release A Cave, A Canoo on Hush Records (on October 13, to be precise). As a follow-up to her three previous albums – 2008′s Water For The Day, 2006′s Captain Wild Horse (rides the heart of tomorrow), and 2005′s Oh Say Little Doggies Why?A Cave, A Canoo features the warmth of sound and depth of spirit listeners familiar with Short’s work have come to love, and adds to it a patient and affable docility that will hook anyone with ears still unaccustomed to Short’s breathy soprano.

A song of indecision and heavy minds, “A Cave” is the quasi-titular title track from Short’s upcoming release. The song is the essence of simplicity, featuring Short’s vocals and a restrained piano accompaniment. While the stark sweetness of the sound is perhaps the most distinct characteristic of “A Cave,” a careful listener comes away impressed not only with Short’s vocal range, but also the sonic differences between her upper and lower register reaches, with the throaty daunt of her lowest notes seemingly irreconcilable with the feathered delicacy of the high notes

Shelley Short – A Cave

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He’s ba-ack. And this time, unlike when Carol Anne creepily uttered the warning, the return is a good thing. That’s because this time, the phrase is less warning and more celebration of the upcoming full-length album release by Langhorne Slim. Be Set Free, due out September 29th on Kemado Records, finds Slim at his most cinematic and vulnerable, and promises to be a game-raising follow-up to the already wonderful self-titled album he put out last year on Kemado and his previous work, recorded both indpendently and on Narnack Records.

“I Love You But Goodbye” is the first track to be leaked from the label and provides a pretty excellent teaser for the rest of the record. Vintage blue-eyed blues, tells the familiar yet always impossible to cope with tale of love lost regretfully and powerlessly. Sonically, the song directly channels a young man’s middle-aged Bob Seger, as the instrumentals feature mostly gentle guitar strumming and piano key tinkling. Lyrically, Slim starts things off with poignance, asking the anonymous subject why the came into his life if they couldn’t stay forever.

Much of the rest of the song is a series of rhetorical questions and aphorisms, as Slim comes to terms with a relationship that is ending on someone else’s grounds. After asking himself who he was before the lover came around and why he couldn’t have been the first to leave the relationship, Slim does his best to reconcile his heartbroken ambivalance, as the song ends on a powerful instrumental climax and with a ferocity of forlorn forgiveness.

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Langhorne Slim – I Love You But Goodbye

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crusty white cat thinks E-603 is balls hilarious

This kind of thing usually isn’t my bag, but when the piano bit from “Come Sail Away” kicks in around the one minute mark, I lose my shit; for whatever reason it strikes me as really funny.  (Mash-up artists, listen up:  the first one of you clowns to put “Mr. Roboto” in front of a Wu-Tang song will receive a personal check from me for an unreasonably large sum.)  The cheery, carnival-like deedly-doots behind Ludacris’s chanting at the end also make me chuckle.  I’m not sure that this song (or the record from which it comes) was intended comedically; I hope it was.  Otherwise I’m laughing at some earnest white kid who just wants to “mash stuff up.”  Actually, however it was intended, as serious music for serious people or overtly comedic, I guess we all win by pointing out its ridiculousness and guffawing.  It’s even funnier if you imagine some hipster stroking his beard and peering deep into the nuances of the samples.  (Quick aside:  Check out the mole on the bald guy in the picture above.  Wow.)

E-603 – Lights Out

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volcanopress219_20Good stuff keeps rolling into our electronic mail boxes, so we thought we’d hit you with a double dose of the Singles Club today.  Given our fascination with all things DeYarmond Edison, we’ve been pretty deeply anticipatory about the upcoming Volcano Choir record, Unmap, which features Justin Vernon of Bon Iver fame and the cats from Collections of Colonies of Bees.  The tracks on the upcoming record were layed to tape before For Emma, Forever Ago was in the can and, allegedly, Vernon got a big old dose of creative energy from the sessions.  Given all this, we’ve long assumed that the record will be awesome and have been itching to get our grubby fingers on it.  The record hits shelves on September 22, but Jagjaguwar just unloosed the first single, “Island, IS” into the universe today.

The track does not disappoint.  The complicated layers of mildly frenetic percussion and rhythm behind hushed vocals, the killer breakdown at the 2:30 mark that emerges into a slightly more triumphant and the overall sonic excellence of the track are going to knock your socks off.  If the rest of Unmap is this good, we’re, almost certainly, going to have coverage on the record as the release date approaches.  We’re stoked.  You should be too.

Volcano Choir – Island, IS

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the splinters live

I’ve been on a bit of a neo-garage kick recently (possibly due to Rob’s influence), so it was a treat to find the lead single from Oakland proto-punk revivalists The Splinters in my electronic mail yesterday.  (The rule these days seems to be if there’s a band whose name is composed of a definite article and a plural noun, its probably going to make me happy.  See: The Warlocks, The Ettes, The Barettas and so on.)  “Splintered Bridges” clocks in at less than two minutes, each second of which is packed with a hooky, aggressive sneer.  We’ll be on the lookout for more material from the all-lady quartet and will keep you in the loop as it appears.  In the meantime, you can snag the “Splintered Bridges” single here.  They only pressed 300, so look sharp.   (As a sidenote, we used the picture above cause the cameraman pictured is uncomfortably/creepily close.  Was the cameraperson who took the photo above looking to highlight that creepiness?  Do they have some sort of photographer beef? We’re just saying.)

The Splinters – Splintered Bridges

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why

Editor’s Note:  We went dark today and didn’t post much content.  James wandered around an Ikea, I got my cat fixed, and Brian was flying back from Florida.  All this to gear up for our Pitchfork coverage.  More album reviews on tap for tomorrow, so make sure to get back here and read, bros.

WHY? is a band that intrigues me, not so much because of the polarizing nature of their music, but more because of how the lyrics sound out loud.  As an English teacher, I can always pursue a band that understands the complex nuances of poetic structure and their link to sound.  To go a step further, I’d argue that many, many songwriters rarely get out of 5th grade poetry class, caging themselves in simple rhymes and language skewing sing-song words.  WHY? doesn’t do this, and that’s why I like WHY?  Yes.  It is.  Thank you for asking.

Last year’s release, Alopecia, was the great separator for many folks.  Bloggers either loved the band or thought it was obnoxious, which has pretty much been the case since the band became indie darlings several years ago.  To hunker down on my thesis, however, to me it’s always been more about how the words go together aurally, not the sexual and inane nature of the content.  I can handle the hip-hop aspects of the band, but really dig into the more darker imagery of the last effort.  This new track, “The Blackest Purse” is the more edgy mode I can get into.  They’ve still got the panache for quirky lyricism, but like I said at the beginning of the post, it’s more about how the words sound than what they say.  I’ll argue the intelligence of WHY? all day based on this premise alone.  The new album, Eskimo Snow, promises to be a little more edgy with less hip-hop influence.  WHY not hop on board?  I can’t speak for the other two dicks here, but I will.  It’s set to release through Anticon Records on September 22nd.

WHY? – The Blackest Purse

www.anticon.com