Category: Album Review

Ryuichi Sakamoto, “Minamata”

Posted on by August W. Zander

Ryuichi Sakamoto
Minamata (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)
MILAN for Flood Mag
7/10

Somewhere between an Eric Satie still life and Jerry Goldsmith’s noir-jazz score for Chinatown exists the coolly emotional and subtly effervescent yet earthen music for the film Minamata from composer and instrumentalist Ryuichi Sakamoto. Starting with its gently halting piano opening theme and traveling through quietly whining atmospheric battles between sequencers, breathy voices, and real-time strings (“Landscape,” “Chisso Co.”), tonic glitch-hop riffs (“The Boy”) and their sinister equivalent (“Hidden Data”), opulent cello runs (“Boy and Camera”), and burnt-edged, electro-ambient (with squeezebox) scowls (“Into Japan”), the sonic monologue behind the true-life events of aged American war photographer Eugene Smith (played by Johnny Depp in director Andrew Levitas’ gritty film) documenting the effects of mercury poisoning on a coastal town in Japan is exactly what we’ve come to expect from latter-day Sakamoto.

Far beyond his historic, ethnographic co-penned score for Bernardo Bertilucci’s The Last Emperor (for which the composer won an Oscar), and more moodily along the lines of his intimate, textural 2017 studio album async and his recent soundtrack for Black Mirror: Smithereens, Sakamoto shows off a mind and a taste for menacing, tactile music which meshes the oceanic-winded scale of the elements, be it the organically orchestral or the sumptuously synthetic, with cricket nattering glitches for physical punctuation. If you didn’t think a score emulating the effects of industrial pollution and one man’s dedication to portraying pain and beauty could find a composer, you’ve missed the point of Sakamoto’s long career’s aesthetics.

Though the final track contains every trick in Sakamoto’s kit bag and pulls from his electronic dance past (its thumping, sequenced rhythms), “One Single Voice” was recorded by Welsh mezzo-soprano Katherine Jenkins (famous for a beloved Christmas episode of Dr. Who) after Sakamoto’s involvement in the project. The lush grand finale features all of the self-empowered heft and fine-boned focus of Celine Dion without a hint of the haughty or the saccharine.

Find the vinyl edition of the soundtrack pressed on a pair of 180-gram black vinyl discs and housed in gatefold packaging with liner notes from Levitas, for what the director calls Sakamoto’s talent to “represent both the absolute best of humanity as well as the worst.”

Album Review: Foxing’s ‘Draw Down The Moon’

Posted on by BPM

There have been some emo revival acts who have risen to fame by shattering genre expectations, often drawing the ire of the genre’s elitists along the way. Many of those bands end up crawling back into their shells, returning to the sounds expected from within. But Foxing have never shied away from the hate. Throughout their polarizing trajectory, they have braved the critical gatekeepers with the sole purpose of making music that matters to them, even if the results are a mixed bag.

With the exception of 2013’s debut album The Albatross, which has already been enshrined within the Emo Hall of Fame, each subsequent Foxing release has rubbed at least someone the wrong way. However, it wasn’t until 2018’s Nearer My God that the band felt comfortable enough to break across genre lines and expectations that they’d be the ones to reclaim the traditional sound of emo from the mainstream; it was an allusive statement that they’re no longer trying to be an emo band.

Now, with their newest record, Draw Down The Moon, the trio (down from a quintet) embrace this status with authority, as it finds them completely at home in a house undefined. They’ve occupied a space that allows them to be musical nomads without caring about what your pretentious Twitter timeline thinks ‘real’ emo has to be.

Nevertheless, the band’s sonic excursions aren’t necessarily apparent from the get-go. Draw Down The Moon begins with the deceptive “737”, a cosmically woozy folk number with blips of synthesizers and sparkling guitars, fittingly paired with triumphant horns playing from afar. However, one can sense something big and explosive brewing in the song as a thunderous drumroll begins to flood the dreamy atmosphere. With 40 seconds left, the suspected explosion materializes as singer and guitarist Conor Murphy turns the track on its head with visceral nu-metal roars for the song’s finale. The combustible “737” is a fitting bridge between the cinematic approach of Nearer My God and this new record.

From there, the band’s path diverges as they bleed into a seamless, synth-driven world on the next track, “Go Down Together”. Though grating to the ears initially, “Go Down Together” is a contagious electro-pop banger with a sheen so bright that one can’t help be reminded of the radiant and infectious simplicity of more mainstream indie acts of the early 2010s, particularly Passion Pit. The same can be said about “Where The Lightning Strikes Twice”, though to a far more unflattering degree. With obvious homage to classic new wave acts, “Lightning” will also remind some of Muse’s mid-career output that would eventually plague evening television on ABC Network in the early 2010s. The song isn’t downright awful; it carries with it a level of replayability that deserves some admiration. But, then again, when a band diverges so far from what they’re used to, there will be misses. Even the album’s daunting title track will prove to be a polarizing cut for many. Though groovy, thrilling, and slightly endearing, “Draw Down The Moon”‘s campy character might be a little too much to get behind.

Between those who will appreciate this record and those who will find it as a desperate grasp for mainstream success, everyone will agree that Draw Down The Moon is an obvious bid for early for 2010s indie-pop revivalism. The band has been hinting at this direction since their last album, and it’s refreshing to witness this bold direction the Missouri band desires to take itself. But, even with most of Draw Down The Moon operating within this indie-pop space that might be foreign to a large portion of their fanbase, Foxing still maintain some of their emo edge in places; guttural vocals, explosive breakdowns, and heart-on-sleeve lyrics ensure they have at least one foot in the fictitious yet all-too-real ‘fifth wave’ of emo.

Ultimately, Draw Down The Moon proves that this genre was never about a particular sound; it’s always been about striking a chord through forlorn themes, sentiments, and lyrics. This is most clear on the acoustic “At Least We Found The Floor”, as Murphy startles listeners by way of unashamed cynicism; ‘comforting’ a loved one but unable to withhold a taste of brutal honesty: “It’s going to get much worse than this.” It’s not the only display that, even with a record as unexpectedly shapeshifting as this, Foxing’s angsty roots are maintained. On the danceable and deceptively trite firecracker “Bialystok”, Murphy yearns with homesickness weighing in his heart. While the song’s crackling synthetic sounds and simple pop song structure are not traditionally ’emo’, his words still carry that pointed desperation.

The same can be said about single and album closer “Speak With the Dead,” featuring guest vocals from WHY?, but to a far more realized extent. At seven minutes long, it’s a vivid and ambitious post-rock behemoth that simultaneously paints Murphy remorseful and at an incredibly vulnerable state, dreaming of being in the presence of a departed friend, gone too soon. Not only does Murphy stun listeners with a voice in ruin – one moment conjuring hushed intimacy, the next a wailing scream – but his words are striking as he reminisces of simple moments with this lost friend, while making a sacred promise: “In my dreams I’m on a porch with you / I promise you I’ve been doing well in your name/ And I won’t try to speak with you again / Until I watch my last breath dissipate.” It’s extremely difficult to make a song so towering while imbuing it with such a profound sense of unguarded secrecy, but Foxing has accomplished it impeccably while offering tantalizing insight into what the band could sound like in the future.

With each song on Draw Down The Moon, Foxing posture themselves as a different band, teasing new possibilities at every turn – though there are a few inevitably clumsy attempts. In an interview with SPIN last month, Murphy admitted that with “every record [they]’ve put out so far, it seems like a decent amount of people hate it.” This is the kind of awareness that goes a long way when trying to appreciate a record so fascinatingly imperfect and blatantly jagged around the edges as this one. Foxing are aware they’re alienating some fans, but that makes it the kind of evolution one should admire and value. And with Murphy’s melancholic poetry persisting as the band’s heavy heart and soul, the genre’s most polarizing band, whether you like it or not, has reached yet another new level of boldness and grandeur.

The post Album Review: Foxing – Draw Down The Moon first appeared on Beats Per Minute.

Album Review: The Zolas ‘Come Back To Life’

Posted on by BPM

Like so many others, The Zolas had their plans to release an album in 2020 scuppered by COVID-19. Instead of just retreating and pushing back the release date, the Vancouver band launched a campaign they called ‘Z Days’ which promised a new single on the second day of each month. Fans of the band could rest happy on getting their Zolas fix (especially since it was back in 2016 they released their last album, the bright and infectious Swooner) as well as plentiful cuts that would appear on their delayed album.

The extra time also brought about a little extra focus for The Zolas into how to shape and sound the album. Inspired by 90s Britpop and described by frontman Zachary Gray as a “21st century heir” to Trainspotting and Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet, Come Back To Life borrows generously from the the era of Definitely Maybe and Screamadelica. There are smears of Oasis and nostalgic hat tips (and psychedelic waves) to the Happy Mondays across the album, but Gray and his band never get too lost trying to recreate the past.

If anything, props have to be given to Gray (and new bandmates, bassist Dwight Abel and drummer Cody Hiles, filling the gap left by departed keyboardist Tom Dobrzanski): they are a pretty convincing replica of the inspiring era. “Miles Away” jangles pleasingly as Gray ushers you to “lean back / don’t worry ’bout the feedback”, while “Let It Scare You” has a blissful summery air about it, channelling nostalgia from its echoey vocals through to its little hits of glockenspiel. If they were released 25 years ago, then tracks like these could have easily found an audience.

Elsewhere, they sound amazingly convincing as another band who made their name trying to replicate this era, namely Kasabian. Opening track “Violence On This Planet” cynically swaggers while “I Feel The Transition”‘s throbbing bass charges along as Gray takes on the topic of wealth disparity. Give either of these tracks that radio-ready shine on the trip hop beats and up the fuzz on the bass a little and you could have a track taken from somewhere between Kasabian and West Ryder Pauper Lunatic Asylum, if not just something ready to soundtrack a sequence of lads boasting their way down a street in a Guy Ritchie movie.

Gray’s old habits don’t die easily though, and if there’s a past he seems fond of recreating then it’s the flashy strut of Swooner. He has a certain way of inflecting his voice in the final bars of each of his lines, like he’s directing your attention to a particular clever word. It’s most evident on “Yung Dicaprio”, which manages to fuse together a bleary 90s “la la la” rush with that LA-like wearied glimmer; it sounds like two songs stuck together, but the trio do make it work. “Energy Czar”, on the other hand, has plenty of likeable features with its backing vocal touches in the chorus and stylish preppy guitar sound, but it also sounds like a rehash of familiar territory.

Where the album does excite is when Gray steps that bit more out of his comfort zone. Sometimes it’s a little feature, like on “PrEP” where there’s a noticeably emotional snarl in his voice as he shouts “I wanna scream until I burst,” addressing the HIV epidemic of the 1980s over thick, chugging bass. “Reality Winner” is a welcome instrumental turn that sounds equal parts indebted to trip-hop rave streaks from the Prodigy as it does to a modern dubstep pioneer like Burial. “Another Dimension” gets locked and lost in a gritty groove, but an elongated verse from Cadence Weapon is a highlight and surprise – it’s only a shame it doesn’t go on longer, especially when he starts to hit his lines against the snare with a pointed viciousness.

Final track “Wreck Beach/Totem Park” is also worth a shoutout, not just for broaching the difficult topic of Canada’s deplorable treatment of its First Nations, but also in how it manages to do it through a personal lens. “Songs I love to sing reveal themselves as requiems,” Gray carefully offers at one point as hazy synth chords blear in and out of view, like a fuzzy childhood memory coming to the front of your mind. The rise of the chorus is sweet and wistful (even though it’s tinged with darkness), but Gray sounds he’s retreating away from bleeding an intense emotional peak out of the song, like he’s aware this isn’t his area to broach. He’s reminiscing with a more informed mind, remembering fondly but with fuller context of life around him.

Like the album’s opening track, the closing “Wreck Beach/Totem Park” takes some six and a half minutes to spread out and explore the terrain, and it’s musical ventures like this that make Come Back To Life that few steps above the band’s previous efforts. The tone feels less pandering and hollow, and they’re actually sounds like there’s real weight and meaning behind some of Gray’s lyrics for once (which, thanks to the less airbrushed production, aren’t riding front and centre). While the album’s not without some clunky moments (mostly around the middle) and at points just feels like a continuation of what came before, Come Back To Life does an admirable job of balancing 90s sentimentality and the band’s own signature approach to writing. It’s a hard task to look backwards and forwards at the same time, but The Zolas do a pretty good job of it here.

The post Album Review: The Zolas – Come Back To Life first appeared on Beats Per Minute.

5 Tracks from Willie Dunn’s anthology, ‘Creation Never Sleeps, Creation Never Dies’

Posted on by August W. Zander

Creation Never Sleeps, Creation Never Dies: The Willie Dunn Anthology, the compilation of the Indigenous Canadian singer-songwriter’s music issued by Light in the Attic Records back in March, is a joy that imparts two burdensome revelations. The anthology pulls from Dunn’s four studio albums recorded between 1970 and 1999. On each track Dunn cuts an imposing stature. He was blunt, poetic, focused, and diverse. His style ebbed between genres much like how he constantly migrated across Canada. Longtime friend and collaborator Obediah (Johnny) Yesno characterized Dunn perfectly; “… the audience always writes in to ask if the songs are on records. They’re not…most of the time you can’t even find him. He can’t stay in one place.”

Dunn was a singer-songwriter, an artist, a filmmaker, a leader, a teacher, and an activist, raising awareness and protesting on behalf of Indigenous rights. His activism extended to rerecording his own albums and donating the proceeds to Indigenous rights groups despite struggling with finances for most of his career.

The compilation’s first revelation is that recognition has eluded Dunn even beyond his unfortunate passing in 2013. Part of this was by his own admission. He refused record courtships from Columbia Records when signing would’ve had him in leagues with Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan, and Johnny Cash.

The other tragedy is that Canada hasn’t progressed far from its colonial roots despite some pleasant lip service. Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau still engages in misguided reparation attempts. Thus Creation Never Sleeps, Creation Never Dies is an essential listen beyond its high standard as Dunn’s music is as relevant now as it was when he recorded with the Akwesasne Tribe nearly fifty years ago. Dunn wove history and poetry, both Indigenous and English, into 22 tracks of the highest caliber. Here are five that highlight not just the pristine quality of his output but illuminate Dunn’s character.

The Ballad of Crowfoot

Dunn’s one-man folk epic recounts the story of Crowfoot, the Siksika chief who negotiated Treaty 7 on behalf of the Blackfoot community. Crowfoot has his land pilfered, his morals bullied into the signing of treaties, his guilt racked, and by the end of the ten minute ballad he witnesses the government’s refusal to honour trade agreements. After every wincing detail the chorus chops through with the promise of a better tomorrow. It echoes Crowfoot’s devotion to his clan combatting his doubt in his choices. Dunn shows how lofty hope is by concluding with the vague optimism of finding love as opposed to “usual treachery.”

“The Ballad of Crowfoot” is equally notable as a short film. Dunn directed the piece with grassroots funding and the Canadian government handling distribution. It was the rare combination of the system and radicals working in tandem. Often considered Canada’s first music video, the 1968 short is composed of archival tribal footage and photographs set to Dunn’s track. It was poignant enough that it entered the curriculum of classrooms across Canada.

Dunn’s track operates just as well without the context of the film nor its bleak imagery. His voice booms with the weight of a withering community, his depth mirroring the history and bloodlines Crowfoot upheld against the incompatible force of colonization.

Charlie

The tender, finger picked, “Charlie” is an astounding folk number. Dunn tells of Chanie Wenjack, a young Anishinaabe boy who died mere feet away from a CN (Canadian National) railway track after fleeing his residential school on October 23, 1966. The freezing snow wracks the boy’s small body and his thoughts wander towards his father and his deceased mother and the track grows colder as Wenjack’s time in the frigid winter crawls onwards.

“Charlie” marks a few recurring themes in Dunn’s life. Notably, his finances. He received $600CAD for recording “Charlie.” Dunn was grateful for the then large sum because he knew how brutal the music business was, how rampant exploitation ran throughout the system, and how broke he was. Dunn’s finances were never stable, he was forever in a state of possessing only enough to pass from couch to couch. Dunn wouldn’t find any financial stability until later in his life.

Years later Dunn re-recorded “Charlie” for Martin Defalco’s television series Adventures in Rainbow Country. He omitted any direct lyrical mentions of Wenjack to echo Defalco’s aim. Defalco extrapolated Wenjack’s passing to the flaws of the Canadian system. The track evolved from a singular heart-wrenching recount into a symptom of a larger virus.

I Pity the Country

Dunn’s most famous song houses his unique evisceration of colonialism. His stony delivery, deterrence of radio-palpable friendliness, and honesty disposed of any aesthetic poeticism – one of the lines is “Deception annoys me” and Dunn moves mountains with its simplicity – are the reasons “I Pity the Country” reverberates today and probably why it never grew on the airways. It was too raw. Even Leanne Betasamosake Simpson’s fantastic cover from earlier this year is a totem of gathered dust from years of burial. Her version trembles with soot but shows Dunn’s words as ever relevant. Dunn is not so much jabbing into the gut of colonialism; he’s empathetic to the people and disheartened that a system has yet to remedy its colonialist scars. As an Indigenous man he’s furious, but as a Canadian he’s disappointed his country succumbs to such lows.

The Carver

Dunn was adamant about retaining his own image when Columbia Records tried to recruit him in the late ‘60s. They wanted him to play the cowboy and indulge in his country influences. And Dunn could’ve excelled as a country artist, “School Days” and “Crazy Horse” being two of his strongest takes on the genre. But he was far too rebellious to be confined by a lasso.

“The Carver” is Dunn’s most overt example of his wide influences and output. Dunn’s music, much like the man, couldn’t remain in one place for long. He bounded between genres while maintaining his own identity. “The Carver” is the sonic encapsulation of his propensity to remain in motion. Take it as a microcosm of Dunn’s large output palette. Even within the realm of folk Dunn was hard to characterize, and even harder still when he ventured outside of it.

“The Carver,” conceived during the recording sessions of “The Ballad of Crowfoot,” may be Dunn’s most divergent piece. The track is a psychedelic session where Dunn’s hearty register skips across the flowery guitars like a stone on atop a lake. Dunn never replicated the approach, at least not on any of Creation Never Sleeps, Creation Never Dies‘ other tracks.

Sonnet 33 and 55/ Friendship Dance

Dunn’s native heritage was as key to his artistry as his English blood. The singer is the mediator between both worlds on “Sonnet 33 and 55/Friendship Dance” as he was in real life. He coagulates tribal drumming (provided by Akwesasne Singers from a Mohawk Nation on the banks of the St. Lawrence River) with Shakespeare’s flowery prose. Dunn was a vested student of English poetry but melding Shakespeare with tribalism insinuates a deeper purpose. It’s the veil Indigenous people have to adopt in order to fit into Canadian society.

Dunn reimagines Shakespeare’s poetry as speaking to the image of the First Nations. He converts Sonnets 33 and 55 into celebrations of Indigenous identity. The prose, teeming with metaphor, gains traction from the rhythmic drums, bringing it closer to earth. Likewise Dunn’s pointed recitation adds a poet’s flair to the traditional accompaniment.  

The post Five Essential Tracks from Creation Never Sleeps, Creation Never Dies: The Willie Dunn Anthology appeared first on ForTheLoveOfBands. The post is from Colin Dempsey is a Toronto-based writer who covers music, dabbles in fiction, and spends too much time calculating his macronutrient intake.

Album Review: Wavves – Hideaway

Posted on by IndieIsNotaGenre
nathanwilliams

Nathan Williams is no stranger to introspection; Wavves’ 2015 album V acted as his post-breakup lysis, reasoning with pessimism while attempting to maintain self-worth. He’s no stranger to attacking with melody like most would with insults, wrapping them around You’re Welcome like decorative paper – nor is he unfamiliar with upping his sound, see the orchestral conduct of Afraid of Heights.

But what happens when all of this occurs at once? The answer is Hideaway, an introspective wrestling match with anxiety that has seen TV on the Radio’s Dave Sitek recruited as producer, generating a loose crunch amid organic rock, and a hell of a lot of melody on Williams’ part.

Melody acts as an angel looming over Williams’ shoulder, offering reassurance as he blows towards the opposing demon on Honeycomb. Never has the phrase “I feel like I’m dying” felt so breezy, but this clash of mental states makes total sense, and if more of a roar were required, Sitek’s involvement comes in handy on the bridge, as everything suddenly loudens to match madness.

It makes more sense than Sinking Feeling; a calm waiting to snap, perhaps too aloof to convey a genuine sinking feeling. No, Honeycomb resembles a ‘Help is on the Way’, which distracts itself with laid-back tuneage, the kind of ‘drinking beer, watching TV, playing cards’ music required to find blissful ignorance, before very tuneful guitar picking lightens the finale on Caviar.

Melody then supplies therapy on The Blame, which lassos a little rockabilly into the fray, like an old Beck track but more keen to pay homage. Any deviation is warranted, particularly as Williams begins the album by yelling “can’t talk now, I’m going through hell” on Thru Hell, capturing a restless mind that swells with the barn-like gruff of Sitek’s production.

The mind spirals on the uber-catchy Planting a Garden, as the narrator hates Susie for not loving him, but loving who she thinks he is. Williams’ vocals whirl inside and out as it he adds as many notes as possible to certain words, almost as if it’s a self-aware taunt.

And that isn’t where the taunting ends, though it can become too grating and playground-like on My Prize. The title track decidedly uses irritability as a taunt, a means for attention before it becomes clear Williams only wants attention from himself. He’s simply making sure to keep himself on his toes while attempting to decipher which aspects of his anxiety are based on logic – “the field looks so pretty but it’s covered in landmines”.

Nathan Williams vows to be the troubadour of his own uncertainty. And why wouldn’t he? When you’re capable of such melody that lingers on the mind, evocatively wobbling through each track to pass the old, grey whistle test, you’d probably recruit yourself to play at your funeral, if that were possible.

And alongside the thoughtful recruitment of Dave Sitek, hand-pumping Wavves’ punk backbone to a grand shift in size, it makes Hideaway the most compelling Wavves release potentially since King of the Beach.

The post Wavves – Hideaway appeared first on Indie is not a genre.

EP Review: The Len Price 3’s ‘The Strood Recording Company’

Posted on by LoveOfBands
Christopher Adams
 Christopher is a freelance writer/journalist residing in Texas and currently writing for several magazine publications. Prior to freelancing, he was the co-owner of Immediait, a media company that provided commercial enterprises with visual and written content for their social media platforms and websites.
In addition, Christopher spent four years as a reporter/staff writers for two Texas newspapers, The Fort Stockton Pioneer and Del Rio News-Herald.
fortheloveofbands.com/

When I was a boy, a man used to wander the streets in our area dressed up and looking like Christ from a 1950’s film epic. Staff and all. He eventually shot a police officer and was then subsequently shot by another police officer. Everyone knew who he was just from his visibility in the community.

Noddy, a character in one of the new compositions from The Len Price 3 — based in Medway, United Kingdom — was a real-life man similar to the aforementioned one. However, the song isn’t only memorable for its lyrical content but the music that accompanies it. From its German count-in and opening chords to the distortion of its outro, “Noddy Goes to the Pentagon,” sounds like a lost  psychedelica track from 1966.

“Noddy Goes to the Pentagon is about a local character, Medway character,” told  Glenn Page, the band’s singer and guitarist, to For The Love Of Bands via email. “Anyone that lives here would know of him. I began to think he was immortal as he was around when I was a boy and I would still see him around until recently looking exactly the same. He would ride his bike around very fast while shouting and swearing at people quite randomly. Sadly he died in 2020.”

The band’s latest recording, The Strood Recording Company,  is an EP follow-up to their self-produced 2017 album, Kentish Longtails, and delivers four infectious power-packed compositions that have something to say.

“We had originally set out to record an album and we recorded about 18 songs or thereabouts,” Page said. “We had them all mixed and ready by about the middle of 2020. When it came to it though, I wasn’t very happy with it. I felt the songs weren’t very good. So we settled on releasing what we thought were the best 4 songs as an EP.”

They didn’t disappoint. The songs tear through a musical landscape layered by a 60’s mashup discussing hippie posers,  Noddy, Brexit and social anxiety.

“We’re really pleased with the sound of the EP. We might even venture to say it’s the best thing we’ve done from a sonic perspective,” Page admitted. “It’s the recording we’re most happy with sound wise anyway. Neil (Fromow/drum kit) takes the credit for that. He really did his homework and put in the effort to make sure it sounded good.”

Incidentally, there is no Len Price in the band. It’s Page, Fromow and Steve Huggins on bass.

Revolver comparisons have been made to Strood. Page told Fromow he wanted some of the Strood tracks to have a Revolver profile.

“A few people have commented that “Noddy Goes to the Pentagon” sounds like the Revolver / Paperback Writer / Rain recordings. So it looks like he got it spot on there, ” Page commented.

Interestingly, Page was listening to 70’s roots reggae and modern jazz during the recording of the EP. Yet, he fell back into first loves: the Who, Beatles, Kinks, Clash, Undertones and Ramones.

“I think the music of the 60s as well as 70s punk is in my DNA because that’s the style I’m always drawn to write in,” he said. 

Lyrically, Page’s sharp and sometimes acerbic words are front and center. He doesn’t suffer fools gladly and has never been reticent to express it. “Weekend Hippies” is a prime example. The irony of its lyrics sung over a psychedelic sound accurately reflects the message of the song. It’s about a former co-worker of Page.

“They would always bang on about going to festivals, taking drugs, loving music and practicing meditation- mostly laudable things,” he explained. “Unfortunately that person was also a bully and was thoroughly unpleasant to people at work. It seemed to me that they were a peace loving hippie at the weekend and a total bastard during the week!” 

And the soul-rooted, early Who-like “Got To Be Together,” is a kind of anti-National Front Disco track that is a pushback against Brexit. 

“I was responding to all the division and partisan politics that had emerged from the whole Brexit debate and subsequent fall out,” Page said. “I’m not one for political statement in our music really. All I’m saying in this song is that I’m in favour of things that bring people closer together rather than things that divide and drive wedges between us.”

A sanguine message? A friend of Page pointed out that The LP3 frontman was mired in negative commentary.

“And he has a point because song writing is like a therapy for me,” Page revealed. “It’s where I deal with a lot of stuff that has been troubling me. Since he said that I’ve tried to make more of an effort to write at least some songs with a more positive outlook. 

The Strood Recording Company is currently available on vinyl. The band’s preferred auditory delivery method.

“We’re vinyl fans,” Page said. “Lots of our fans are vinyl people too. We sell more vinyl than CDs when we’re on the road. We were drawn to the idea of something only being available in this one format. It’s not inconceivable that we might release it digitally in the future but we’re not planning on it at the moment.” 

The post The Len Price 3 – The Strood Recording Company EP appeared first on ForTheLoveOfBands

The Flaming Lips’ ‘The Soft Bulletin Companion’

Posted on by IRC Staff

The Flaming Lips’ Soft Bulletin was a watershed moment for the Oklahoma City rock band. Released in 1999, it was a moment when the group essentially started all over again with something wholly new as they reacted to the death of Wayne Coyne’s father, as well as other deaths of loved ones experienced by longtime guitarist and keyboardist Steven Drozd. Dubbed by a few bold critics at the time as the Pet Sounds of the ’90s, their ninth studio record started to unlock a whole new level of festival audience far beyond what came before for the psychedelic weirdos from the Sooner State.

Frontman Wayne Coyne has often referred to rare Flaming Lips hits during past interviews as gifts from the “gods of music.” Concert staples such as “Do You Realize??” or the title track off 2002’s Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots are moments when the gods bent down and tapped the band on the shoulder, said it was time, and rewarded the good work they had set up previously with the best tracks on The Soft Bulletin only three years before (“Race for the Prize” and “Waiting for a Superman”).

It’s abundantly clear that The Soft Bulletin Companion is a compilation of curios for diehard fans of a monumental album from early in the band’s nearly 40 years of existence. There are odd experiments, melodic dead ends, plenty of outtakes, prototype mixes, and everything in between on this 13-song collection originally intended by the band’s manager and Warner Bros. as a promo-only CD to pair alongside The Soft Bulletin. It’s seen new life this year during Record Store Day, and longtime fans of the band will take note of hearing rarities like the fuzzed, psychedelic rocker “The Captain,” which are a welcome sight on vinyl after years of being hard to find.

Also, it’s nice to hear a couple stereo versions of tracks from the endlessly curious 1997 experimental release Zaireeka (which, infamously, was ideally played from four separate CDs blasted in unison from different car sound systems). In other corners of the release, a Lips Mix of The Soft Bulletin’s “Buggin’” and an early mix of “The Spiderbite Song” both fall far short of the quality heard on the original Soft Bulletin classics.

The Soft Bulletin Companion’s early versions of “Slow Motion”and “Little Hands” are also not too bad, and remind you of the band’s songwriting chops during the period, with Coyne directing the band on the rough mix of the latter track. The Soft Bulletin still stands as a classic where the best of ’90s experimental rock and pop collided, and its companion piece does sit fairly comfortably in its long shadow. Seeking this one out as a chaser to another long sip on the Soft Bulletin vibe is the best way to experience it.

Alexis Marshall (Daughters) Debut Solo Album ‘House of Lull . House of When’

Posted on by IRC Staff
indie-rock-marshall

Imagine the scene: You’re in some smoky, crowded backroom speakeasy for an open mic poetry night. Most people performing do so in the way you’d expect—they shuffle up to the lonely microphone in the spotlight, tentatively read a poem or two that they’ve printed out, and then shuffle off again to a polite round of applause. And then, out of the shadows, a tattooed beatnik/Hare Krishna/Frank Booth hybrid walks onstage with a boombox. He sets it down and presses “play,” allowing a dystopian cacophony of industrial noise to fill the room. And then he—he being Alexis Marshall, the vocalist of uncompromising, cult-like Rhode Island noise rock outfit Daughters—starts shouting and ranting, bellowing the words of a lost soul, one forsaken by both God and the devil, one whose reality is entirely internal yet still reflects the turmoil raging incessantly and constantly in the ravaged world outside. 

All of which is to say that House of Lull . House of When—Marshall’s debut solo album—sounds like the end of the world. It’s not one brought on by a Hollywood blockbuster-style disaster, however. Rather, this album’s nine tracks—all of which were essentially improvised in the studio with help from Daughters drummer Jon Syverson and Young Widows’ Evan Patterson—capture the collapse of modern industrialized society and the ravaging, fatal effects of the economic system that rules it. It’s not just capitalism’s destructive tendencies that this record depicts, though, but also the damaging effects of religion, and a more harrowing mental collapse. 

On their own, devoid of the sinister, macabre soundscapes and post-apocalyptic atmosphere created by the music and Marshall’s unhinged delivery, it’s hard to know if these poems—for these are poems much more than lyrics—would stand their own. Opener “Drink From the Oceans Nothing Can Harm You” and the visceral descent into madness of “Religion as Leader” contain some riveting imagery, but they’re much enhanced by Marshall’s powerfully deranged delivery. Yet while there’s merit and substance to the words and imagery here—unlike, for example, the poetry by Touché Amoré frontman Jeremy Bolm (who has previously released poems by Marshall on his label, but whose poetry doesn’t really work on paper)—the arresting, atmospheric soundtrack certainly helps carry them further than they’d otherwise go. Whether that’s the buzzsaw frenzy of “Open Mouth,” the disturbed paranoia of “Hounds in the Abyss,” or the tormented ender “Night Coming.” 

It’s an uneven listen, and its abrasive, experimental weirdness can be too overbearing (as on “It Just Doesn’t Feel Good Anymore”), but House of Lull . House of When is nevertheless a weird, wild ride worth experiencing at least once, even if that’s just to see whether you can make it all the way through.

Originally published in Flood Magazine

Sleater-Kinney – Path Of Wellness

Posted on by August W. Zander

Sleater-Kinney

The post-reunion phase of a rock band’s lifespan can be a strange period to navigate. Provided the fans are on board, it is often a chance to make the sort of serious bucks that are out of reach during a band’s first flush. But a reunion often lays out an unwritten contract of expectations between band and fans; we want the nostalgia, we want the hits, do it this way, not that way.

In this respect, Sleater-Kinney have not entirely followed the letter of the deal. Their second post-reunion album, 2019’s St Vincent-produced The Center Won’t Hold, felt like a makeover of sorts, the roughness and rage of the band’s early days subsumed in a glossy, radio-friendly production that divided critics and fans alike. But the real shock came when, a month before the album’s release, drummer Janet Weiss announced she was leaving the band, citing Carrie Brownstein and Corin Tucker’s increasingly exclusive musical partnership: “I said, ‘Can you tell me if I am still a creative equal in the band?’ And they said no. So, I left.”

For a band often used as a byword for feminist solidarity, this sudden intrusion of personal animus came as a shock. But then, Sleater-Kinney have always been about kicking out against the expectations loaded on women. As Carrie Brownstein has it on Complex Female Characters, one of the standout tracks from their 10th album Path Of Wellness: “You’re too much of a woman now/You’re not enough of a woman now”. It’s that old story, so familiar to female musicians: damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

Path Of Wellness was written and recorded in the long, hot summer of 2020 in Portland, Oregon, with Brownstein and Tucker assisted by a host of local musicians. It is the first album that Sleater-Kinney have produced entirely by themselves, although that doesn’t mean a return to the raw riot-grrrl sound of old. On the contrary, there’s a full, rich quality to the record, which is thick with Wurlitzer and Rhodes, and often echoes various genres of a ’70s vintage – country and glam, funk and hard rock. The latter, in particular, powers some of the record’s best moments. High In The Grass is an exultant summertime anthem steeped in the histrionics of ’70s rock: “We lock when the pollen’s up/We love when the party’s on”. Wilder still is Tomorrow’s Grave, a knowing tribute to Black Sabbath that makes some entertaining rock theatre out of that band’s doom-laden clang.

As Path Of Wellness came together, the state of Oregon was in a strange flux, grappling with the pandemic, encroached on by wildfires, and gripped by protests against racial inequality that saw police suppressing crowds with batons and pepper spray. In places the album seems to address this explicitly. Favorite Neighbor is a righteous skewering of hypocrisy that accuses those “putting out fires/When your own house is burning”, while Bring Mercy finds Tucker singing, “How did we lose our city/Rifles running through our streets…”

Elsewhere, the turbulence outside seems to have brought out a reflective tone. The title track uses the language of self-help and self-care to interrogate personal insecurities, while the sleek, funky Worry With You addresses that feeling of anxiety when the shit
has hit the fan and the loved one you need is out of reach. Once upon a time, Sleater-Kinney records were righteous and declamatory. More often here, the tone is open and inquisitive, a band trying to find their bearings when the times are a-changin’.

In an interview about her departure from the band, Janet Weiss spoke of the tight relationship between Tucker and Brownstein: “I just think the two of them are so connected and they really agree on almost everything.” Listening to this new clutch of songs, you’re often reminded of this. Even as Path Of Wellness grapples with the world outside, its songs often speak the intimate language of a private conversation – the words of one friend, or lover, to another.

Fans who listened to The Center Won’t Hold and baulked at its lack of righteous rage might also find moments here wanting. But Path Of Wellness proves Corin Tucker and Carrie Brownstein haven’t forgotten the empowering, life-giving qualities of rock’n’roll fun. Sleater-Kinney are turning their reunion years into a reaffirmation of the importance of support and solidarity on a private, personal level. As they sing on album closer Bring Mercy: “If it’s coming for us, darlin’/Take my hand and dance me down the line”.

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Kings Of Convenience – Peace or Love

Posted on by Uncut

Kings Of Convenience

On the cover of Peace Or Love, the long-awaited fourth album by Eirik Glambek Bøe and Erlend Øye, the Norwegian duo are playing chess on a stylish piece of furniture. It’s not the first time the game has featured on their record sleeves – the art for 2004’s Riot On An Empty Street included a half-played board on the shaggy rug of a chic apartment, while 2009’s Declaration Of Dependence depicted the duo taking a break from a game on a Mexican beach.

Bøe and Øye do enjoy chess (the latter spent most of a recent quarantine playing it online), but their frequent references to it also capture something fundamental about the alliance that’s always powered Kings Of Convenience. Though their music is hushed, thoughtful, polite even, their relationship has always been fiery and competitive, the beauty and stillness of their songs fashioned from conflict.

The 12 years between Declaration Of Dependence and Peace Or Love weren’t the result of struggle and strife, however, but rather of a quest for perfection. Recording took place sporadically over five years and spanned five different cities, including Siracusa in Sicily, where Øye now lives, with the duo searching only for the right mood and feel, a kind of loose magic, rather than any technical prowess.

Their efforts seem to have paid off, for Peace Or Love is their most cohesive album yet. While it’s not a world away from their previous work, the mood is noticeably more stripped-down and melancholic – there’s nothing like Riot…’s I’d Rather Dance With You or Declaration…’s Boat Behind – perhaps informed by the last decade, which saw Øye lose his parents and Bøe suffer the breakup of his marriage to Ina Grung, the cover star of Riot… and their debut, 2000’s Quiet Is The New Loud.

In customary fashion, they begin with a slow, desolate song. Rumours, driven by three intertwining acoustic guitars, addresses someone facing “accusations we both know are wrong”; in close, breathy harmony, they offer support and advice, but it might be too late: “I want to tell you that I love you/But I know you can’t hear me now”.

Comb My Hair, with its fast, coiled fingerpicking, is darker still. Here, with the loss of a loved one, the protagonist is unable to get out of bed; even the stars and the warm evening air are “cold and senseless now”. Love Is A Lonely Thing, a tranquilised, echoing ballad with verses shared between Øye, Bøe and a returning Feist, and the minor-key Killers, both deal with the pain of love, of waiting interminably for someone or something to appear. Closer Washing Machine, one of the best tracks here, uses clashing guitar chords and plaintive viola to emphasise Øye’s romantic dejection and existential angst: “It’s true I’m more wise now than I was when I was 21/It’s true I’ve less time now than I had when I was 21…”

Not everything is quite as dark, though: Bøe’s Rocky Trail is a skipping, bossa nova cousin to Misread, but it twists and turns so deliciously that its chorus appears only once. Fever places electronic beats under Øye’s wry contrasting of lovesickness and actual sickness, but the effect is reassuringly subtle. Catholic Country, meanwhile, is swaying and vaguely South American, the chorus written with The Staves and beautifully delivered by Feist.

Ultimately, it’s the sparse, live interplay between the two guitars and voices that carries Peace Or Love. The arrangements were largely worked out on tour, while recording mostly took place in homes – hence the Sicilian crickets that accompany Bøe on Killers. There are mistakes here too, especially on Washing Machine, which only enhance the air of intimacy.

After a quarter of a century playing together, Kings Of Convenience seem to have discovered the purest essence of the music they create. It’s become increasingly tricky to tell who originated these songs, especially when, as on Catholic Country, Bøe is singing Øye’s lyrics over his own riff; what’s more, any frills they might have dabbled with in the past have been stripped out, leaving only the bones of the songs and whispers of the rawest feelings. Stylish moves, perfectly played.

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Debut Synth Album by Astoria Legend

Posted on by Karl Magi

Initial Impressions

Astoria Legend’s self-titled album is bursting with glowing light, aching with melancholy nostalgia but still exuberant, full of life,/wp and touched by an irrepressible sense of hope. There are elements of synth pop integrated with synthwave, tinged by other influences to create a cohesive musical whole that I find quite engaging for my ears.

The first element to mention on this album is the excellent vocal work. The lead singer has a voice that can whisper or soar, caress or emote strongly. He has a quality of earnestness and passion that comes pouring out and suffuses the whole album with expression and sincerity.

Another strong part of Astoria Legend’s album is the lyrical content. The lyrics are full of intense imagery and pure emotional expression, and each song unfolds its own unique story. I get the sense that the words mattered as much as the music, so I am glad that this album can showcase them.

The way that Astoria Legend integrates the musical elements of the track has been well done. There are rich melodies that often contrast wistful emotions with hopeful, positive sensations. Those melodies are carried on synths that can leap and flash or caress with delicacy, while solid drums drive on and the music brims with emotion and surges with energy.

Track-by-Track Analysis

“Astoria Legend”

“Astoria Legend” sweeps into existence on a rising breath of wind while sparkling synth glows through it. Full, rich chords add support to the other musical elements. I enjoy the swell of choral sound that fills the sonic spaces of the track.

There’s something passionate about the vocal sounds as they soar over the high, glittering chimes and the weight of bass below. Clouds of synth sound swell and grow before slowly fading away again.

“The Door”

Solid, shifting bass leaps into “The Door” to start it off before the softness and emotional expression of the lead singer’s voice carries a gentle vocal melody over the unique, bursting drums. The chorus rises in a bright arc over the sunlight of flashing synth and the exuberant beat.

I am drawn to the impassioned guitar that whirls out in shimmering lines while the beat explodes forward again. Ripples of shiny sound are accented by a hollow, metallic series of notes. Trumpeting bursts of positive feeling synth cry out while the massive drums burst forward and the chorus rises above it all.

A new relationship can be like a portal to a new dimension of experiences and emotions. The lyrics of this song convey the feeling of a transformational connection. Our narrator begins as he is “uncovering the door” that he’s been chasing. He muses about whether he is reaching “in or outward” and asks, “Can you see yourself in my reflection?”

The chorus talks about how they’ll break the rules with ”spacetime in motion.” He promises that “tonight you can’t imagine, discover the word in absolute.” He says that she’ll experience magic “unfolding into action.”

Now he talks about how he’ll be waiting “another day alone” and he’ll listen for something calling to him. There’s a sense of despair as he talks of “seeing the dark in our dimension, the light burnt out.”

He extends an invitation to travel to “a world out of this world tonight” where they’ll ride “pure emotion” and paint ecstasy. I especially enjoy the image of “neon bleeding from the trees” while a vivid illustration is created.

“Hailey”

“Hailey” comes to life as rising, flowing synth chords are joined by a steady bass pulse. A full, round synth with a brassy glow carries a gently shadowed melody. I am a big fan of the lead singer’s expressive, caressing vocals as they move over the flashes of shining synth and the drum throb shapes the music.

The chorus is full of dreamy, wistful emotions while the bass and drum pulse easily propel the track forward. Glistening skeins of elevated synth weave in between the words, the deep bass heartbeat and the solid drums.

The yearning feeling in the vocals is now joined by dancing, whirling, medium high arpeggios before the track breaks into a half time pulse. Twinkling lines of synth shimmer through before the vocals rise in a powerful tide of expression.

The narrator talks about laying “on the moon one last time” because with “foresight we’d be livin’, counting on a wish to survive.” Even as the words leave his lips, he sees that “she’s getting closer, blaze illuminating, devouring.” He adds that “she’s taking over.”

There’s a sense of pleading I the lines, “Hailey bring me back to Earth. Coming down we seek forgiveness” as we’ve forgotten “our place among the stars.” He talks of her “shattering heat…burning bluer than her eyes in summer.” I also enjoy the imagery of her exploding into the ocean through a canopy of trees to create a “raging tidal wave’ that will wash everything away.

After all of this destruction, there will be a return of new life that will erase all the toxic elements. Hailey will leave “scars of gratitude” as she creates “what’s intended for.” The song ends as he begs her to “bring me back to Earth.”

“Surrender”

There’s an eruption of dynamic motion as “Surrender” comes to life. A bouncing line of synth volleys as smooth, warm synths fly into the track along with the emotive vocals. The weighty drums add propulsion and the bass supports the energetic, passionate vocal melody.

A compelling mixture of hope, anticipation and love fills the vocals and the drums explode forward again. The chorus cries out and rises in glittering clouds and the relentless beat pushes on. A segment in which shimmering synths drift in ethereal waves gives way to the song’s dynamic energy. Before the track ends, there’s a drift into sparkling chimes and flowing air before the chorus launches over the heartbeat of drums.

A feeling of escape and a sense of boundaries pushed fills the lyrics of this song. As we begin, a sense of danger and collapse touches the song with images of a loaded gun and a basket-case. The narrator says, “We’re on the run. Who could’ve known what’s right or wrong?”

He insists that “this one exception can’t be fatal to manage” but they soon realize that their cover has been blown and it’s a “blinding light, we should have known.” As everything falls apart, he adds that “the rain won’t even make a sound.”

The narrator promises “when she’s running, on fire, I’ll take the heat.” He talks of a spotlight burning through him and speaks of being “so fragile and desperate.” Now he asks, “Is this our surrender?” as he adds, “they’re calling for our surrender.”

A sense of defiance echoes through the line, “She said it’s time. Tear down the walls and we’ll be fine.” She adds, “Let’s not mistake adventure for romantics.” Now the narrator talks about raising a flag as “they’re taking aim” while the everything “crashes down” they are fighting to hold steady.


Now the “fires burn and burn out” as whispers call that it’s time to go. As the narrator is “wrapped in her arms, the undertow pulling me in” there’s an inner voice that speaks. It talks about “a world that’s even closer than we imagined” and ends with the line, “it’s just us two forever. Still I’m here with you.”

“The Weekend”

“The Weekend” opens with lush, slowly evolving synth chords and a charging beat. The vocals exude upbeat energy while rapid arpeggios glimmer over the drive of the drums. I am drawn to the earnest expression of the vocalist on this song.

Medium-low synth pulses cascade while the drums push the song ahead. There’s a mixture of summery hope and darker shadings of times that won’t come again in this song. Chiming stars of synth glitter and the vocal melody softly caresses the ears before the drums leap into action.

There’s a feeling of warmth shot through with loss in this song. The narrator talks bout how they’re on a “soiree, craving the taste of sugar” and they’re getting all dressed up. The narrator asks, “Will you promise me we’re going to lose our way?” since it is their getaway. I enjoy the imagery in the line, “a summer fading into the city breeze” as the narrator speaks of uncovering treasure underneath “every corner.”

The chorus is a soaring tribute to a road trip in which they “hit the back roads, to the highway with the throttle up.” He talks about how they’ll embrace “the bright lights…until the weekend ends.”

Power and speed are well reflected in the line “we’re breathing the redline” as he talks about jumping off and blacking out the morning. He says, “We really need the sunrise to keep us alive” and says he can feel the wind swirling around adding, “It’s such a pleasure to see.”

Their need to escape is strong otherwise they’ll “strip the city of the glamor, the allure” and lose “the power just to pretend.”

“Keep Running”

Delicately sparkling synth floats across the open soundscape of “Keep Running” as the drums leap in underneath the shining chimes and a deeper synth that doubles them. I enjoy the way the glistening synth melody moves with the dancing vocal melody. The song drifts into a gentle section in which light-filled synths glow and the beat keeps pushing forward.

The synths have a metallic shimmer to them as the melody arcs and skips over the drums.A segment with flowing air, and the cascading, massive feeling drums as a more delicate section quickly leaps back into the chorus and the drums propel the track while the warm, positive melody buoys up the song.

I am drawn to the nautical imagery and the sense of trying to break free in the lyrics of the song. As we begin, we see the song’s subject “sailing into the night, splitting faces to decide if he’s still alive.” The sense of asserting oneself is expressed in the line, “It doesn’t matter if there’s room, he shouted out, I’m making my own.”

There’s strong imagery created in the line, “Push it down until the moon calls, howling out.” He speaks of the tide breaking to bring him home, but he doesn’t want to return. The sense of his footsteps being dogged is well-expressed in the line, “Shadows following at midnight follow closely ’til morn or I’ll slip away” still he keeps on “running away from you.”

Now he’ll make the cliffs as “the clouds align, flash of a silhouette.” There’s something raw and elemental in the verse, “Feel the slack, the line. The swell will eat you alive.” The feeling of pressing on regardless comes through as he talks about the roof being shattered and the rain coming in, but still he’s going to “push it up until the flood comes rushing out.”

He talks about how he’s hiding in the light and “holding on to what remains.” He is called but “still I keep running away from you” as there’s a “sinking surround” and a reckoning while he’s running out.

“Evolve”

“Evolve” opens with fragile, airy piano lightly brushing into the music as the track begins to crescendo before the throbbing, solid drums move with the glinting synths. The vocal melody is full of gentleness and ease while indistinct voices murmur in the background.

Arpeggiating patterns of notes are carried on a full, sunny synth and the beat adds a bounce to the song. The vocals yearn and rise, full of power and expression while the increasing energy of the music reaches ever higher. There is light pouring out of every musical element in this song.

A palpable sense of deep love and fear of losing it fills the lyrics of this song. One of the two characters n the song shows outward calm but he’s “beating on the in.” The other is “clutching at her arms, she seems unsure” while they draw closer.


The chorus asks, “How could I live without your love?” and adds “all that I have can’t be enough.” The song expresses it in terms of a dance. The question of living without the other person’s love is posed again and worry fills the line, “It’s been a lifetime. Shadows in the sunset they’ve grown.”

There’s wonderful imagery in the lines, “She’s wild as ever, skipping through the flame grass” and in the idea that she breathes for him. With the closure, “come closer” in life and emotion. The narrator speaks of “love driving us out of the dark” as they wait for “the first to come enlighten you.”

The song ends on the idea of “a love so pure it pierces through, tailored to you.”

“It’s Our Time, Down Here”

Slightly shadowed chords move with a very high, shimmering chime that ever so delicately brushes the music to start “It’s Our Time, Down Here.” Waves of lower sound move under the bell-like synths that move with melodic grace over the thumping kick drum pulse. The drums come in with full power and the caressing vocals call out.

An elevated synth carries a hopeful melody that doubles the vocal melody. I enjoy the earnest, emotive vocals that are full of honesty. Synths flicker like shafts of sunlight and the vocals soar over the drum and bass pulse. There’s an intricate guitar solo that trips lightly over the notes, cartwheeling and crying out with passion over the beat’s pulse.

Nostalgia is often a complex mixture of emotions that are examined well in this song’s lyrics. There’s a feeling of unreality as the narrator talks about how, “I first saw it in a movie, she’s stretched out in front of me, spinning under the sunset.”

He talks about how it was easy the last time and adds “take in the ocean breeze, I could never forget that.” The good days are “calling my name and lately I can’t find myself” he says. There are flashbacks that might drive him “crazy dreaming of the days we tried to outrun the sunset.”

Memories of the excitement of taking “the long way with the top down” as they were chased around the lake shore by the police” make him want to return to those days. I especially enjoy the image in the words, “a hot pink Lamborghini pressed on a white t-shirt, I could never forget that” and again he aches to return to those times.

Conclusion

Astoria Legend’s debut album comes on strong with emotive vocals, explosive energy and a rich sonic palette that allows for lush synth sounds to give full expression to the earnest passion that fills each part of it.

Karl Magi

Synth-driven love on Disco Men From Mars’ new album ‘Invasion’

Posted on by Karl Magi

Initial Impressions

Disco Men From Mars’ Invasion is a tribute to all of the richness and complexity of synth-based music. It combines a fascinating profusion of different synth sounds with a wide variety of stylistic influences to create lush, textured music. There is also strong melodic writing and a sense of fun added to the mix on the album.

Let’s talk about those synth sounds. Disco Men From Mars explore the full range of timbres, tones, and emotions that can be extracted from synthesizers on Invasion. They interlock high glittering sparkles, saw-toothed growling, and lambent warmth in a sonic tapestry that is rich but doesn’t create complexity for complexity’s sake. Each synth is clear and distinct, but together they produce a coherent whole.

I enjoy the way in which Invasion travels from cool jazz to chiptune and from a reggae groove to the pumping beat of disco. There’s an enjoyable cocktail of different genres that are joyfully mixed to produce an engaging and fun musical journey on which Disco Men From Mars takes the listener’s ears. When the samples from various movies and other sources are added in, they only add to the playful nature of the album.

The melodic writing on display by Disco Men From Mars is engaging. They are able to craft melodies that are catchy without being overbearing. The melodies on this album also have two qualities which I especially enjoy. The first quality is a timeless feeling that makes some of the melodies seem as if they might have existed forever. The second quality is the way in which they combine melancholy and more positive feelings in one tidy package.

My Favourite Tracks Analyzed

“Invasion” starts off with a deep, hollow rush of air flowing through the track and a rattling twist of sound. A burst of dark bass rumble is joined by a well-chosen vocal sample from Orson Welles’ “War of the Worlds.”

A line of high piano notes glitters over a well of rising, deep sound and now a dark pulse of constant bass throbs out over the open space around it and a high, chiming sound briefly touches before a shadowed, tense sweep of medium-low synth cuts over the constant bass pulse and the big drums.

Descending bass chords rise and fall over driving, massive drums to open “Midnight Surfer” and a jazz-inflected melody carried on an organ. High, bright, nasal synth carries the groovy melody that whirls and dances up above that big beat, spinning and cascading. A disco beat moves under raised, glockenspiel-like notes while full synth carries a drifting melody that is touched by warm haze.

I find the glow of the melody quite compelling on this track. A hard-hitting, gritty bass pulse contrasts with an ultra high synth carrying a melodic pattern, crying out over the strong disco beat. There’s an ear-grabbing hollow drum sound that moves under a glowing, tightly dancing high line of synth that slides over the beat’s pulse while full, shimmering notes sparkle over the drums and into silence.

“Voulez-Vous Danser Avec Moi?” comes to life with a slow, low, oscillating bass pulse below the steady drums and medium-low, hollow synth swirls over the beat’s steady throb. The pipe-like synth carries a shifting pattern of notes while long sweeps of sound grow in a circular motion. I enjoy the mixture of aching emotion and energy in the melody of this track. The active bass line climbs and falls as glimmering synth drifts in starry clouds over it.

A series of warm, full synth chords blossoms in delicate sound over the throbbing beat. Unique percussion breaks into the track before the intertwined hope and melancholy of the lead melody comes in again. The ear teasing percussion sounds move with another vocal sample and the hollow oscillation of synth. A computerized, angular-sounding synth repeats a bouncing melodic pattern and then silence.

Oscillating waves of rough-edged low synth throb into the music to kick off “Interstellar Overpass.” The drumbeat hits hard below a warm, nasal synth carrying shifting chords below a higher, more crystalline synth playing a melodic pattern. The nasal, whirling lead synth melody soars triumphantly but is leavened with a little melancholy.

I am drawn to the extremely high secondary melody as it reaches for the stars, glistening high over the drums. Ultra-high synth cries out before the lead melody calls majestically over the steady insistence of the beat. A steady percussive pattern throbs out before the dark, distorted voice of the lead synth sings a more shadowed, lost feeling melody.

“Detour Alley” comes into being with a metallic, uneven pulse that’s joined by reverberating chimes that move delicately as the beat softly taps below them. Quick, nasal-sounding arpeggio move with a glow behind a pipe-like, wandering lead synth. There’s an ancient feeling to the mode of the main melody, something that transcends modernity to speak to more primal emotions which I quite enjoy.

Piano notes move over a throbbing beat that is now joined by 8-bit sounds that carry a roaming melody over the insistent bass pulse. The melody sings out, speaking of journeys and adventures, its voice reminiscent of a Japanese roleplaying game score. Quick arpeggios move over the throbbing beat and a line of rising and abruptly dropping synth.

Glistening chimes sparkle over deep, reverberating blocks of synth sound to open “DJ Hal 9000 Beach Blanket Bebop” before dynamic beat throbs below a distorted, full synth carrying the lead melody. There’s a sensation of progress and hope that radiates from the main melody as a buzzing synth adds support, while the drums pulsate and the bass adds weight to the music. Appropriately this track uses samples from “2001: A Space Odyssey.”

I am drawn to the segment of this track that launches into a full-blown reggae jam. It adds an element of fun to the music that I find so enjoyable. The “A” section launches into life again as the steady, energizing beat throbs under it. There’s another reggae breakdown followed by a drum fill, after which rapid arpeggios tremble over battering drums. One more dose of sunny reggae vibes comes in before the track fades out.

“Downtown Dystopia, 3 AM” comes into being with harsh, buzzing synth and massive, militaristic drums thundering below piano-based jazz chords. A sawtoothed, elevated synth contrasts with the smooth flow of the cool, easy-going piano notes as the steady bass pulse moves below. It’s a contrast that I enjoy a great deal. The beat has an easy-flowing throb to it as the jazz piano writhes and slides over top it.

The oscillating, shadowy pulse is pierced by technological noises and a wash of piano notes that dance through over it. A driving bass pulse and computerized lead synth come in carrying a wandering melody that bends and wriggles over the pulsating bass, making a twisty and establishing a hypnotic pattern of notes over that beat. The notes slowly and then more rapidly cascade, the brittle brightness of the computer like sound descending into space in which massive drums batter before fading

The unique sound of a Moog synth playing chords that flow out in floating waves starts off “Moog Sunset.” The lead melody arcs out, wandering and twisting, shivering through the track with a dreamy, warm voice that I quite enjoy. A shuddering, bright synth sound trickles through and begins to establish quick, arpeggiating patterns that add texture to the music as they rise and fall.

The beat bursts and dances while bass descends under the arpeggios before the beat changes character again. Minor key chords climb and grow warmer as they rise while the roaming lead synth melody weaves in and out, feeling a bit mournful and melancholy. Sparkling stars of synth move over the slower drums and into silence.

“Mission Accomplished” springs to life with a popping synth that bounces back and forth with the smoothly flowing beat. The nasal-sounding lead synth cries out with fuzzy, caressing warmth in a rising melody while piano shines and flutters behind it. The melody is full of a dreamy sense of hope and yearning by which I am compelled. There’s a rich, all-encompassing feeling that spreads throughout the track from the main melody.

Glistening synth lead cries out over the piano’s shimmer and the wistful ache of the melody. Patterns of cascading, climbing notes move as the beat shapes the music before the track breaks to an arcing, wandering line of computerized synth over the oscillating bass line. Angular, slow patterns of 8-bit notes arpeggiate and add more motion to the track. Reverent choral sounds move along with percussion into open space and then silence.

Conclusion

Invasion is a synth album that takes me on a journey. It uses the complexity and variety of synthesizers to create strong imagery while having a good time doing so. I am drawn to the sense of fun and engaging musical elements that Disco Men From Mars weave together on the album.

Karl Magi