IN THIS ISSUE:

New Releases from The Beta Band and Mission of Burma, and
an EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW with Patrick Wolf

Belle and Sebastian- Dear Catastrophe Waitress (Rough Trade, 2003) 

I have set two modest restrictions for this review of Dear Catastrophe Waitress: 1) Do not use the phrase “chamber pop,” and 2) Do not compare the album to B&S’s landmark If You’re Feeling Sinister. OK, here we go. Belle and Sebastian have finally shed whatever baggage it was that led to a baffling string of increasingly lackluster releases, and the group displays a new musical direction more conducive to future growth than their previous three albums have suggested. Opener “Step Into My Office, Baby” sounds as playful as its title, a swinging rock number that only pauses for a lushly arranged choral section that sounds a bit like the group's characteristic chamber po—woops, almost slipped. Frontman Stuart Murdoch shows off his regained capacity for sweet, upbeat rock numbers that frequently rival the best tracks from—daggone it, can’t mention that one. This is harder than I thought. Um... latest single “I’m a Cuckoo” is one of the sunniest songs Murdoch has written since “Me and the Major”...er, new-wavey “Stay Loose” is B&S’s most playful closer since “Judy and the Dream of Horses”...I mean...oh, hell...CHAMBER POPPERS PRODUCE THEIR BEST ALBUM SINCE SINISTER!  

- David Moore

The Beta Band- Heroes to Zeros (Astralwerks, 2004)

theowlsq: whats up
benamegatron: d00d!
benamegatron: hoagland sent me the new Beta Band album
theowlsq: any good?
benamegatron: he said its like a party from the future.

And so it is. If you liked Hot Shots II or The Three E.P.’s you’ll probably like Heroes to Zeros as well. Unfortunately, that’s also the problem—the album doesn’t expand on the band’s established sound nearly enough. Heroes offers more of everything we’ve come to know and love about the Beta Band. The songs still groove. The lyrics are still simple and understated. I’m still having a “party from the future” every time I listen. But ultimately the album is more of the same, which is kind of disappointing at this point. But don’t give up on them yet. If tracks like the spacey, out-of-tune singalong “Wonderful,” upbeat neo-psychedelia rock number “Out-Side,” and densely layered fuzzed-out seizure that is “Liquid Bird” are a peek into the Beta Band’s future, then I’m willing to wait until the next release to see what these limey d00dz can really do. Maybe if we’re lucky they'll do a concept album based on sampled dog barks.

-Stephen Quinlan

Destroyer- Your Blues (Merge, 2004) 

There are, appropriately enough, six distinct stages that accompany Your Blues, Danny Bejar's sixth album under the Destroyer moniker.  

1. Laughter: The album opens with the electric scream of synthesized choral "Ahhh's," followed by the words: "Oh Notorious Lightning, yes I had to ride you!"  sung in the most pronounced Broadway syncopation possible with obvious Bowie intonation. Laughter ensues.  Can he be serious? [Stage Duration: 5 seconds - 2 minutes] 

2. Dislike: Soon enough, it becomes apparent that Daniel Bejar is quite serious, and it pisses you off.  Are those synthesized trumpets? ...Wait a second, everything other than the guitar and his voice are synthesized!  What the fuck?!  This sounds like the music I made in Music Technology in high school!  You think that your cheesy 0/1-encoded sounds are making some sort of a statement or something? [Stage Duration: 1 - 10 minutes] 

3. Enjoyment: You start humming one or two of the songs to yourself.  For me, this started at "It's Gonna Take An Airplane," which recalls 60s/70s bubble gum pop with a folk influence.  A catchy (synth) clarinet line and (synth) handclaps—this song is infectious. You will listen to whichever song does this for you repeatedly. [Stage Duration: 10 - 20 minutes] 

4. Appreciation: After being “opened up,” the "Ba dum, ba dum's" of "An Actor's Revenge" and the indiscernible synth of "New Ways of Living" can be considered in a new light...and pretty soon... [Stage Duration: 2 - 10 minutes] 

5. Obsession: Every song will ring true.  Every word will speak the truth that you only vaguely remember from the early days of your Elvis Costello infatuation; the truth of the harmonic sadness/optimism you heard during your first experience with Elliot Smith. You will remember why you loved songs on acoustic guitar rather than electric, but also why you loved the children of the MIDI generation. This is a glorious stage. [Stage Duration: 30 minutes - 2.5 weeks] 

6. Transience: Sadly, ultimately you realize that, although wonderful, the concept is only appealing for a limited amount of time, and you probably won't think of this album first when you are feeling happy/sad/deranged/musical. It will gather dust on your shelf until you take it down to put "It's Gonna Take an Airplane" on yet another mix tape. [Stage Duration: Until you forget what the album was in the first place] 

Many will love this album, many will hate it, and a good amount will accept it as an above-average singer/songwriter's best album since Streethawk: A Seduction.  

-Marc Calderaro 

DJ Signify- Sleep No More (Lex, 2004)

“Uh-oh, looks like we’ve got another DJ Shadow wannabe,” I thought, as Sleep No More began. Dark vocal samples, menacing beats, a brief but lovely string arrangement—not really anything new. After a more promising cut featuring Sage Francis and a brief instrumental intermission, it's Buck 65’s turn on the mic, and he quickly hits the album’s first home run with “Stranded.” The rapper, who guests on four tracks and is the true highlight of the album, exhibits his usual laid-back lyrical style, opting to take on the role of a shy, disturbed story-teller rather than a bombastic rhyme spitter. The peak of this collaboration culminates on “Winter’s Going,” which has Buck 65 telling a brooding tale of love once lost over a melancholy arrangement of acoustic guitar, horns and strings. The rest of the album fails to match this high point, with a few more instrumental tracks shifting the mood of the album before a final dose of gloom from Francis and 65. Signify manages to resuscitate some beaten-to-death trip-hop clichés, while at the same time creating beautiful instrumental arrangements. However, it is the help of his two very able MC’s that make this a most pleasant romp through nightmarish experimental hip-hop.

-Jeremiah Turits

El-P and the Blue Series Continuum - High Water (Thirsty Ear, 2004)

Visionary pianist Matthew Shipp and the folks at Thirsty Ear Records have been pushing the boundaries of genre with The Blue Series, a set of recordings that seeks to take musicians out of their "comfort zones" and create exciting and original jazz music. High Water proves to be one of the strongest efforts released in the series so far. Heading the project is rapper El-P, who does not rap on the album, but instead composed the music for the musicians to play and improvise around. The idea of jazz meets-hip hop has become a growing fad amongst various DJs nationwide, and yet El-P has managed to create one of the most concise representations of the possibilities this synthesis has to offer. The tracks are edited sparingly and flow well, mostly due to El-P's use of theme and variation: each melody is (or at least seems to be) a different angle on the melody to "When the Moon Was Blue." The music submerges listeners in a long, moody jam session, which comes full circle when the original tune is played and sung by El-P's father on the final track. El-P’s alluring sonic landscapes, combined with some fine ensemble playing, ultimately makes High Water a success, even if the album lacks the daring twists and turns that the Blue Series records are known for.

-Phil Giampietro

Kid Spatula- Meast (Planet Mu, 2004)

From the first few notes of album opener “Housewife,” you can tell that Kid Spatula is not out to revolutionize electronic music, he’s out to shake some booty. The opening track, like many on the album, relies on cute, simple synth hooks, weird but relatively straightforward drumbeats and repetitious tongue-in-cheek vocal samples (“My body/My hot body/My body”). Kid Spatula is a side project of Mike Paradinas, who is better known for pumping out melodic IDM under the name µ-Ziq. At two full-length discs, Meast, a collection of his older work, is one of the longest albums Paradinas has put out. Absent is Paradinas’ up-tempo breakbeat sound we’ve come to love. Instead, he employs repetitive beats and melodies, settling for slower tempos and giving nods to numerous genres—he even throws in a harpsichord for good measure. Because these tracks were pulled from an era before jungle warped Paradinas’ geeky mind, Meast isn’t particularly groundbreaking. It may be slow at times, but if you’re looking for some melodic IDM (from an era when that description meant nothing), or just µ-Ziq-lite, then Meast may be what you’re looking for. Don’t believe me? I had Dave Moore listen to this in my car and he said it was cool. So there.

-Jeremiah Turits

Mission of Burma- ONoffON (Matador, 2004)

Mission of Burma, inarguably one of the single most influential bands in the earliest history of indie rock, have released their sophomore album after a hiatus of twenty-two years. ONoffON is like some glorious time capsule from a parallel universe containing the follow-up that Mission of Burma might have produced in 1983 had a shoddy indie infrastructure, Roger Miller’s severe tinnitus, and Cruel, Cruel Fate never interfered. Opener “The Setup” allows for a quick bit of catching up, with an instantly memorable guitar riff leading to passionate, repetitive lyrics balanced precariously between personal and political, delivered as always with fiery intensity. Both “The Enthusiast” and “Nicotine Bomb” are surefire sing-along staples, while the brooding, bittersweet “Falling” is one of the group’s best ballads. ONoffON exudes “retro” alt-rock charm—in fact, it seems completely untouched by over two decades of indie rock evolution—but the band never consciously calls attention to the album’s inherent nostalgia. The feat is nothing short of awe-inspiring: Mission of Burma are officially ON again.

-David Moore

Sharks and Minnows- The Cost of Living (Two Sheds, 2004) 

Sharks and Minnows, an Atlanta band whose members proudly wear “generic indie rock” all over their bespectacled faces, create tossed-off angst pop that is so pleasantly non-confrontational one can’t help but grin at their courageous lack of courage. On The Cost of Living, S&M (chuckle) churn out a heap of easily digestible pop hooks and mildly apprehensive lyrics, keeping the dreaded “emo” description safely at bay with a tongue firmly planted in cheek. They sum themselves up succinctly on “Small Song,” on which they croon (presumably to a skinny would-be girlfriend who is WAY cooler than they are): “It’s just a small song/ And it won’t make you happy/ It won’t keep you warm.” They’re two-thirds correct, at least. But anyone who doesn’t smile a little at this stuff is probably dating that cool skinny girl and treating her like crap. Come on, darlin’, why not give S&M a chance?  

-David Moore

They Might Be Giants- Indestructible Object EP 

TMBG's new Indestructible Object EP, a preview of their forthcoming album The Spine, is the sound of my childhood coming back to bite me in the ass. Keep in mind that earlier this year when I finally realized that Lincoln is, in fact, better than Flood—a defining artifact of my early childhood—I pulled down the shades and wept to Ockeghem’s “Requiem.” The EP opens with “Am I Awake?”, an apprehensive cut with uncharacteristic electronic flourishes that at times sound suspiciously similar to the theme from “Top Gear” on Super Nintendo. The lyrics are irreverent enough to be recognized as John Linnell’s writing, but the song doesn’t really form into an overall point. Neither does “Au Contraire,” which is sucked into its own whirlpool of pop culture and historical name-dropping. “Memo to Human Resources” justifies my general apprehension toward John Flansburgh’s material, as it crosses the line of “poppy” that infected TMBG’s previous effort (excluding last year's children's album, No!), 2001’s Mink Car. The album ends with a cover of Brian Wilson’s “Caroline, No.” which, while enjoyable, is almost identical to the Beach Boys version, except that Flansburgh’s voice isn’t nearly as enticing as Wilson’s. Linnell would have been the better choice on this one. The EP’s highlights are few and far between, and sounds more like a band emulating TMBG than the real thing.  Perhaps it’s unrealistic to expect a return to the brilliance of their early days, but I’m allowed to cling to a bit of childhood nostalgia, aren’t I?  

-Ian Power

John Vanderslice- Cellar Door (Barsuk, 2004)

John Vanderslice is a signpost of every significant trend and evolutionary strand of indie pop in the late 90’s and early 00’s: the lo-fi acoustic fuzz of the Elephant 6 collective and Neutral Milk Hotel, the Shins' 60s pop fetishizing, the lush arrangements of Belle and Sebastian, even the cheesy, playful synth affectation of the Unicorns. He also proves himself to be one of the best singer/songwriters on the current indie music scene on Cellar Door, his fourth and most fully realized album to date. Vanderslice differentiates himself from lesser kitchen-sink-style singer/songwriters by understanding that complex production is not a statement in and of itself. His lyrics evoke a continuous, fluid dialogue with elements from his own past, and the tone of his observations ranges from deprecating humor (“The morning she threw up/ My options were all laid out”) to astute deconstruction of childhood fallacies (“Sometimes a cowboy’s just a man in a cowboy suit”) to incisive, overt political commentary (“I’m a guard in Guantanemo/...the hoods come off and torture slowly begins”). Each song offers its own set of unique personal revelations that together initially seem as diverse and disparate as the music. But ultimately the album coalesces into a compelling portrait of an artist who remains completely in touch with his musical and personal past history while confidently pointing toward the future.

-David Moore             

Patrick Wolf- Lycanthropy

Before you even listen to the music on this album, you will undoubtedly hear a lot of the mythology that surrounds the enigmatic Patrick Wolf—stories of Wolf playing viola in an orchestra at age 6, recording songs on a handmade theremin and stolen four-track at age 11. You will probably hear Wolf hastily described as the new (male) Bjork. A lot. The hype surrounding this kid is out of control, and an intense focus on his image has unfortunately pushed Wolf’s music to the background of his public persona. Wolf is a member of the recent crop of laptop popsters that have been practically falling from the sky since Ben Gibbard’s Postal Service teamed up with Clear Channel in an attempt to get “Such Greats Heights” stuck in the brains of every living radio listener in the country. His lyrics are melodramatic and often over-the-top, but Wolf is sincere when he passionately cries out to sad little schoolboys everywhere. What ultimately separates Patrick Wolf from the rest of the laptoppers is his consistency. Every song is beautifully composed and immaculately sequenced. Lycanthropy is a unified album full of catchy, beautiful electronic pop songs, and surpasses recent releases like Postal Service’s Give Up and Bobby Birdman’s Born Free Forever. Whether or not Patrick Wolf will become the hottest thing since Skip-It based on his image alone is yet to be seen, but at least he has a solid album to back up the hype.
 
-Stephen Quinlan

Xiu Xiu- Fabulous Muscles (5 Rue Christine, 2004) 

First things first: Fabulous Muscles is FABULOUS. The album is musically innovative, combining new noise, electronics and classic instrumentation like guitar and squeezebox into catchy, beautiful and consistently fascinating melodies. Sometimes the material is a bit esoteric, but not as much as one might expect from Xiu Xiu frontman Jamie Stewart—who, I might mention, is way too cool for any of us.  

And yet...when I listen to Fabulous Muscles, I don’t know exactly how to react. I’ve been to a Xiu Xiu show, where everyone stood glumly with black jeans and assymetrical haircuts, looking angry, hurt and alone.  Granted, some of the songs are intentionally disturbing-- for example, "Support Our Troops, Oh!" is a graphic anti-war protest. However, Stewart's cold demeanor becomes slightly comical when combined with bouncy tunes with titles like “Clowne Towne.”   I enjoy the album alone but still feel uncomfortable… I used to laugh when Stewart says, “cremate me after you come on my lips,” but now I’m pretty sure he isn’t kidding.  He really wants you to throw his body into the flames of a funeral pyre with the goo still dripping down his chin.  How does one respond to that? How can I continue to bob my head to the precious beeps and doots of “Bunny Gamer” when I know that the man singing it is pouring out all the pain in his tortured soul?  

After seeing Xiu Xiu perform live, I feel like a little kid who enjoys the spectacle, but doesn’t “get” it. It’s as if I’m sitting in the back of the Gallery 6 with a yo-yo, snickering every time Allen Ginsberg says the word “penis,” while everyone else snaps, feeling deeply moved.  I love Fabulous Muscles, and will continue to listen to it in private and feel excited during the climactic scream in “I Luv the Valley, OH!” But I don’t think I’ll be openly displaying my Xiu Xiu infatuation. Apparently I’m not tortured or artistic enough to fully understand.

-Emily Gallagher