TORO Y MOI - SIDERS OF CHAZ [2010]

1	Pitchers
2	Goodbye Raven
3	Right Ting
4	Tall Grass
5	I Can Make You Fall
6	Jobs Make Jerks
7	Entries

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JANELLE MONAE - THE ARCHANDROID [2010]

Janelle Monae is an alien from outer space, or so she insists in the first song from her 2008 debut album, Metropolis: The Chase Suite. Inspired by Fritz Lang's 1927 film Metropolis, Monae works issues of class, race and slavery into the seven-song collection, through the lens of a lovesick robot. It sounds like Broadway in space, both literally and figuratively. Now Monae is releasing a new album, titled The ArchAndroid, out May 18. Its first single, "Tightrope," features OutKast's Big Boi, who publicly endorsed her after meeting her at a local music event in Atlanta.
npr.org
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pw: mikkisays.net

KELIS - FRESH TONE [2010]

Following a tumultuous year that included a highly publicized divorce from rapper Nas, the birth of her first child and numerous family court hearings, Kelis is finally back with a new label home, a new album and a new sound. Now signed to Interscope Records through will.i.am Music Group, she premiered the single "Acapella"-her first new material since 2006's "Kelis Was Here"-online in November. On the track, produced by David Guetta and inspired by her son, the New York-raised singer/songwriter takes her hip-hop-driven style in a more electronic/dance direction. Other songs on the anticipated eight-song project include "4th of July," produced by DJ Ammo; "Kids," inspired by homosexual clubgoers; the acoustic-guitar based "Carefree American," produced by Jean Baptiste; and "Alive," helmed by Diplo. Kelis is currently in the studio with label head Will.i.am.
billboard.com
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pw: mikkisays.net

NAS & DAMIAN MARLEY - DISTATNT RELATIVES [2010]

Nas and Damian “JR Gong” Marley are already good friends. They collaborated on the mesmerizing cut "Road to Zion ," off Marley's Welcome to Jamrock. The twosome's debut joint, titled Distant Relatives, is a kingdom of a different color. The album conflates Marley's lonstanding dub-rock aesthetic and Nas' flow. Nas told MTV News that the Distant Relative project stems from his recent efforts in Africa: “We tryin' to build some schools in Africa… and trying to build empowerment.” Marley and his brother, Stephen, produced amuch of the album. The duo recorded the disc with a live band in in L.A. and Miami, with Marley doing most of the production. Proceeds from the album will go to building a school in the Congo and tracks like "Count Your Blessings" reflect on the continent's ongoing unrest.
prefixmag.com
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THE TALLEST MAN ON EARTH - THE WILD HUNT [2010]

Pesky comparisons to Bob Dylan have dogged Kristian Matsson throughout his short career as the Tallest Man on Earth. In 2006, his self-titled EP introduced a singer with that familiar croak, a songwriter with a folk-revival revival sensibility, and a guitar player with an impressively agile fingerpicking style. The next year, his full-length debut, Shallow Grave, expanded nicely on those ideas, buffing away some of the rougher edges but emphasizing fully realized and beautifully evocative songs. The Wild Hunt, the second Tallest Man on Earth album and first for Dead Oceans, makes a few specific nods to Dylan at his most earnest and bare-- including a reference to "boots of Spanish leather" on "King of Spain". Ultimately, though, Matsson interprets Dylan, just as Dylan himself interpreted Guthrie. More to the point, Matsson translates him into the Scandinavian countryside, where he sings about changing seasons and quiet, lonely places far from cities. His lyrics are rough and often ragged, more concerned with evoking aching emotions than with making explicit sense. But that coded aspect only makes him sound more urgent, as if he's trying to convince you of something he couldn't possibly put into words.
As with previous albums, The Wild Hunt features mainly voice and guitar, and in this intimate, austere setting-- where the banjo on the title track sounds like an indulgence-- Matsson coaxes a wide range of colors from that limited palette, whether it's the testiness of "You're Going Back" or the exuberance of "King of Spain". His grounding in American Southern traditions is apparent: While not a blues musician per se, Matsson draws important lessons from the likes of Mississippi John Hurt and Bukka White by realizing that his guitar speaks as loudly and as clearly as he does.
His playing is sophisticated but never showy, alternating between spry picking and forceful strumming. Whether due to his tunings or his crisp production, there's something bright and expectant about his songs, so that even at his most forlorn, as on "Love Is All" or "The Drying of the Law ns", Matsson's heraldic guitar playing generates a certain major-key hopefulness that softly shades the songs. When he switches to an old and battered piano on the teen anthem "Kids on the Run", the effect is not diminished but amplified, as the instrument reverberates uneasily. It's an unexpected moment that colors everything that came before it and paints Matsson as a distinctive and singular artist.
As a singer, he has become much more confident and capable, using that wily, deceptively limited croak with greater nuance and subtlety. The hiccup hook on "Love Is All" sounds like a joyful noise despite the song's tentative tone, and the rawness of his vocals lends gravity to the accusations of "You're Going Back". On the other hand, Matsson sounds warmly generous on "Troubles Will Be Gone" when he sings, "The day is never done, still there's a light on where you sleep, so I hope someday your troubles will be gone." Matsson is both a romantic and a realist, and on The Wild Hunt, he uses the barest of pop-folk settings to give mundane moments-- another break-up, another tour, another change of season, another Dylan comparison-- a grandeur so disproportional that it's difficult not to identify and sympathize with him.
pitchfork.com
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CARIBOU - SWIM [2010]

In his decade-long career, Caribou's Dan Snaith has fluidly moved between genres like folktronica, shoegaze, krautrock, and 1960s sunshine pop, assimilating their most familiar traits until they're practically in his DNA. His albums have felt warm, loose, and ecstatic (especially 2003's still-career-best Up in Flames), despite Snaith's behind-the-boards meticulousness.
Snaith's latest, Swim, is even heavier on the precise sonic detail, and it's all the more impressive for it. Made with help from kindred spirits including Four Tet's Kieran Hebden, Junior Boys' Jeremy Greenspan, and Born Ruffians' Luke Lalonde, it was borne out of a desire to create "dance music that sounds like it's made out of water." Swim is darker both in tone and spirit than its predecessor, 2007's day-glo Andorra, swapping expansive drum-circle arrangements and ebullience for chilly rhythms and a bummed-out disposition. Easy entrance points here are scarcer than on any of Snaith's previous full-lengths-- as with 2005's kraut-centric The Milk of Human Kindness, repeat listens are key.
The record kicks off with its most accessible moment, "Odessa". Seasick bass, snatches of flute and guitar, and Snaith's mannered patter combine to give the song a pop-centric lean. But the song's easy appeal makes it easy to miss important details, like the ghosted acid-house bleat and lyrics about a break-up ("Taking the kids/ Driving away/ Turning 'round the life she let him siphon away") that establish Swim's bleary-eyed atmosphere. Lyrically, Snaith seems preoccupied with relationship-related indecision and ennui-- a noticeable departure from Andorra's moony-eyed devotionals. On the LP's other highlight, "Kaili", Snaith muses on a couple ruefully growing old together. Elsewhere, divorce and crumbling relationships permeate "Found Out" (whose female protagonist suffers hopelessness as "she knows she'll be there on her own") and empty-nest song "Hannibal".
Lonely feelings abound, as Snaith employs textures and compositional tricks from minimal techno, house, and disco to convey this distant melancholia. The harshly juxtaposed interplay of beats on "Found Out" make for punch-drunk club music, "Leave House" unfolds with LCD Soundsystem's dance-rock know-how, and the warning horns of "Hannibal" give way to a sequined breakdown deserving of any side-long disco edit. Unlike many artists who attempt to dive headlong into the genre, Snaith demonstrates a deep understanding of dance music-- not just how it works, but why, right down to its most pleasurable idiosyncratic tics.
This historian's grasp, combined with the way Snaith's soft, out-of-phase vocals seem to hover over his productions, inevitably brings to mind Arthur Russell. But while Russell's spirit is indeed felt throughout Swim, Snaith's sonic heart still belongs to hash-laced psych, from the drone and Gong-worthy chimes that run through "Bowls" to the vocal chants that break up "Sun"'s tech-house throb. Proof that, despite his chameleonic tendencies, Dan Snaith retains his singular identity as an artist-- and Swim is a reminder that even at his most challenging, the man's compositional capabilities can dazzle.
pitchfork.com

 swim

THE RADIO DEPT. - CLINGING TO A SCHEME [2010]

Swedish dream-poppers shrug off the 'nu-gaze' tag for good on this charming winner of a full-length.

Nu-gaze. Like glow-fi, it’s one of those manufactured terms that is apt to make a music listener, be it indie rock critic or just casual fan, groan with annoyance. As a rule, people’s backs go up at the idea that some convenient, shorthand taxonomy could sum up a band’s entire artistic aim. Usually it’s the sort of thing that’s terribly inaccurate, not even appropriate for a record label’s press kit, and it’s the kind of dangerously short-sighted laziness that can actually keep potential new converts away from a deserving band. Nu-gaze? Really? I’ve even heard Titus Andronicus saddled with this term, and I can’t picture a less shoegaze-sounding band if I tried.

Call the Radio Dept. another unfortunate victim of this trend. Their earlier two efforts,Lesser Matters and Pet Grief, were instantly compared by salivating journa-clones to everyone from the cherished My Bloody Valentine to the Cocteau Twins to the effing Pet Shop Boys. Do the Radio Dept. really sound like these bands? That’s up to you. I say no, not really. But one thing’s clear, our Swedish friends are up to far more interesting work on their latest, Clinging to a Scheme, then just aping the nostalgic genres of ‘90s past.

First single “David” has the kind of surreal trip-hop bounce of latter-day Blur, another group once tagged as indebted to the ghosts of shoegaze past (as hard as that is to believe in 2010). Johan Duncanson has one of those voices that is utterly affecting in its disaffectedness, the apathetic lack of attachment sounding more emotional and harrowing in its defeated glory than any more ragged, extroverted effort by many of his contemporaries. There’s not a hint of over-driven walls of guitar here, just ambient keys breathing away over the beat, spinning into air.

Elsewhere, opener “Domestic Scene” nestles down on a beautiful bed of gently picked guitars before a sample cuts in at the start of “Heaven’s On Fire”.  “People see rock and roll as youth culture, and when youth culture becomes monopolized by big business, what are the youth to do?” a concerned voice asks, before the band answers with a good-time party jam that seems to snipe back: “just relax and enjoy it.” 
The album holds up this sort of consistency remarkably well over its brief thirty-five minute running time, moving from JAMC-Joy Division style mash-ups on “This Time Around” to mellow IDM on “A Token of Graditude”. The only hint of shoegaze influence here comes on “The Video Dept.”, which honestly bites more from Chapterhouse and Ride than heavier bands like MBV or Slowdive. The only real misstep here is “Four Months in the Shade”, which comes across as a feedback-soaked Crystal Castles experiment and little more. Thankfully, gears swiftly shift before gorgeous opener “You Stopped Making Sense” takes the wheel. If not for some of the more modernistic instrumentation, this could be one of Belle and Sebastian’s mellower jams, and ends the album on a perfectly appropriate high note.

Hopefully, Clinging to a Scheme will be enough to finally dispel the nu-gaze tag for the Radio Dept., and maybe it will help prove the futility of boxing bands as talented and unique as these into a tiny, neatly-labelled box. Probably not, at least not on the last count, but the fact remains that this is a solid, feel-good winner of an album that applies enough variety to feature in a number of your day to day routines and make them that much more special by association. Isn’t that what all great albums, nu-gaze or not, should do? Make no mistake, this is a very good, and very nearly great, album. So skip the one-sheet classifications, pick it up and judge for yourself.
popmatters.com
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MALE BONDING - NOTHING HURTS [2010]

Male Bonding's songs are fast, noisy, and full of hooks, a combination that might remind you of any number of things: Nirvana-era fuzz-pedal stompers, 1990s American indie rockers, Hüsker Dü and Dinosaur Jr. followers, not-quite-shoegazer English bands. Like a lot of those acts-- and like their contemporaries in No Age and Abe Vigoda-- Male Bonding started out making more abrasive music. Two of the three members used to be in the noise-pop band PRE, and the rich London scene they're coming out of-- a loose collective of bands with more of a common spirit than a common sound-- is full of scratchy post-punk, lo-fi fuzz, and hints of classic labels like Teenbeat, K, and Flying Nun. These are the kinds of foundational sounds that indie rock often turns back to when it needs to clear its head. But with Male Bonding, part of the treat is hearing them jump out of that and find room in the wide-open field where amped-up, rangy punk stuff collides with tuneful slacker pop. (Early on, they covered both Black Flag and Blur.) No surprise that they've wound up signed to Sub Pop, a label that built part of its reputation on that sound.
"That sound" isn't new, of course. It helps that Male Bonding are shockingly good at it, and remarkably efficient. The songs on Nothing Hurts are short, direct, pared down to essentials, and tightly packed-- with hooks, with changes, with instrumental fireworks. They move rapidly from zoomy rock to more atmospheric breaks ("Franklin"), and from a terrific run of loose, spiky gems in the middle ("Crooked Scene", "Weird Feelings") to some surprises toward the end. (The closer, a scratchy acoustic number, features guest vocals by Vivian Girls.) Frontman John Arthur Webb's vocals and lyrics can be a little hazy and non-committal-- often that's part of the charm-- but they're not really in the spotlight. Listening to tracks like "T.U.F.F." and "Pumpkin", you get the sense that this band's songwriting starts from the way their instruments lock together when they're playing in a room-- cymbal-bashing drum parts, chunky bass lines, and Webb's shattered-sounding guitar leads-- leaving this record as a fuzzy, no-nonsense, half-hour document of what they do.
And then there are the hooks. The hustle, the energy, and the sheer number of them make this an easy album to love-- especially if you're in the mood for some feedback, Nirvana moves, and punk-rock energy along with your melodies. One of the best comes during the killer chorus of a slack pop song called "Nothing Remains", which runs back and forth between a punk-rock build and a burst of high, cooing backing vocals; it's loose, noisy, and wonderfully graceful. Nothing Hurts is full of that kind of excitement: the sound of a fast, fuzzy rock band racing from hook to hook, plowing happily through breakdowns and guitar blasts, springing through scrappy melodies with style. It's one of the happiest surprises of the year so far.
pitchfork.com

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TIM HECKER - APONDALIFA [2010]

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WOLF PARADE - EXPO 86 [2010]

Recorded and mixed at Hotel2Tango, with Howard Bilerman, in late February and early March of 2010, EXPO 86 is the name of the new and third album by Montreal’s Wolf Parade. EXPO 86 follows the band’s 2008 album At Mount Zoomer, which itself followed their 2005 debut, Apologies to the Queen Mary.
subpop.com
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SLEIGH BELLS - TREATS [2010]

This Brooklyn act is another male-female duo receiving a lot of buzz, but don’t expect the dream-pop vibe of Beach House or the folk-tinged sound of She & Him. Rather, Sleigh Bells make grungy dance pop that’s been praised by Pitchfork, which lauded their “fun synth rave-ups” for being “blurrier and more intense than you’d expect.” The group is comprised of guitarist Derek Miller and singer Alexis Krauss, who ended up working as a duo when former members of the band went on to form another buzz-band, Surfer Blood. This debut was produced by Derek Miller. Stereogum has named them a “Band to Watch” and the New Yorker has given them attention. This release comes out on Mom + Pop Music in special partnership with NEET Recordings, a label run by M.I.A., with whom Krauss has been compared.
prefixmag.com

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YEAR OF NO LIGHT - AUSSERWELT [2010]

I know people shit themselves at the mere mention of Pelican and Isis. I know that the release of their recordings throw skinny metalheads into a frenzy of Beatles-like proportions. Or well, for underground metal standards anyway. Those two American groups have managed to stir quite the pot of beans. They have been cooking it slowly and even though in hindsight, it may seem like their best recording’s are already way behind, their momentum has never ceased. I have been largely unaffected by either. A few years ago I saw Isis live. They were as much fun as watching people paint a mansion white. Surely, theirs is the deep kind of music, the one that emerges slowly and that requires certain degree of contribution from the listener, but to me, openers These Arms Are Snakes were truly vibrant and stole the show.

 

There are other foreign counterparts that make music with the same flavor and with similar potency and that don’t get the same recognition. A few years ago Gallic nutsos Year of No Light released a gorgeous record titled Nord. It got a bunch of good reviews and that was that. Since, they’ve had four splits with fairly unknown bands and a live album, none of which have received much coverage. Ausserwelt is only their second full length of original material and it features a black and white photo of a tiny island for a cover.

 

I mention that because as I listen to Ausserwelt I can’t stop thinking about maritime motifs. I shit you not, this is like music for whales or dolphins. This is metal as interpreted by Flipper or Shamu. Ausserwelt shall be a soundtrack for one of those Natural Geographic documentaries about unscrupulous fishermen, or it should have been used as a curtain close to the award winning documentary The Cove. Year of No Light don’t play metal, they make natural post rock, dramatic after metal. The dude in charge of the electronics, keyboards, etc, especially him, is elsewhere, like dolphins, he clicks, whistles and bursts.

 

There are four songs in this record. They are all cut from the same cloth. And they all spend their combined 48 minutes apparently building momentum; Neur-Isis drums (read tribal and metal) sustaining the whole thing and never arriving to a steady beat. Meanwhile layers of prepotence offer distortion in minor measure to ethereal wail-like sounds that surmount to the call of the wild. Ausserwelt sounds like great soundtrack music, it sounds awesome when it doesn’t take center stage nor requires our full attention. But in the foreground and as a whole, one comes to notice that it builds to no end, and like a joke with no punchline, it never delivers.

deafsparrow.com
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GOD IS AN ASTRONAUT - AGE OF THE FIFTH SUN [2010]

Props to God Is An Astronaut for having had a steady, noticeable progression throughout their career in post-rock since beginning in 2002. As I would imagine, that’s quite a feat: they’ve successfully been turning mildly bumpy 90-degree angles to vary and evolve their electro-ambient-guitar-jam exploits from release to release. You see, the three-piece have always had it in their mind to never subscribe to any of the genre’s more well-known, though restrictive, characteristics that many of their build-to-boom, echo, and reverb distant neighbors often seem to try to revitalize and make relevant in recent years. In an interview leading up to Age of the Fifth Sun's release, Torsten Kinsella (vocals, guitars, and piano) even went as far as to say that “we don’t play post-rock; we [may] have elements of [it], but I’m not going to follow the rules.”

And follow the rules Torsten, his brother Niels (bass and guitar), and Lloyd Hanney (drums and synths) have not, at least as Wikipedia might define the barriers, that is. Their first album, The End of the Beginning, was as naked and bare as debuts can get, crafted merely on a sole sampler and keyboard station. But despite such meager beginnings, therein laid the inception of the core dance-synth groove nature of God Is An Astronaut’s sound, already showing possible signs of hope that the band might be of future interest to those more disillusioned and tired with the now-generic genre stereotypes. From their second, and often most praised release, All Is Violent, All Is Bright, which expanded the framework of their debut with the inclusion of real drumming and a more present guitar element, to the more guitar-driven, distortion-fest of 2008’s self-titled release, God Is An Astronaut have yet to settle in a niche for themselves, always delivering with at least some degree of surprise.

Until now, that is. It’s said that “if it’s not broken, then don’t fix it”, and in God Is An Astronaut’s case, that means taking everything from their past albums and combining it into one compact and somewhat disproportionate Age of the Fifth Sun, all without adding anything new or interesting into the mix. This may not sound like such a bad thing, especially for the Irish band’s fans, but it still hints that the band are running low on innovation, having to recall past efforts in order to bridge the gap to their possible future. It may be a little too early to place judgment, but it must be asked: really, do we need another stagnating post-rock band?

When Torsten stated that Age of the Fifth Sun would be a change and that “every song is different,” he apparently wasn’t exactly telling the truth, though taken in a direct literal sense. Indeed, opener “Worlds In Collision” plays like a remix to what I’ve interpreted to be God Is An Astronaut’s remix CD: distant reverb sets the stage before Hanney takes control behind the kit, leading the Kinsella brothers with their intensely melodic flirtation of swirling synths and pounding guitar distortion along for the ride, picking up speed and then slowing down. Many of Age of the Fifth Sun’s cut’s play out in such a way, varying ever so slightly – “In The Distance Fading”, “Parallel Highway”, and “Shinning Through” – and even the cuts that don’t – “Lost Kingdom,” with its hollow-like intrigue, and “Dark Rift,” playing to its name with its solemn, brooding channel of ambiance and keys – feel strangely unmotivated and uncomfortable in the track list. Repeats and awkward junctions like these cause the album to have a very bumpy and undecided path for what it wants to do. Call me pessimistic, but when a post-rock release - or any instrumental album, for that matter - fails to contain some kind of purposeful flow, be it chaotic or smooth, I begin to reach for the off button. Frankly, it’s just not worth it.

That’s the very problem that God Is An Astronaut have seemed to have stumbled onto here on Age of the Fifth Sun. In mixing the electronic-led beginnings of their debut, the more post-rock leaning of their All Is Violent, All Is Bright, and the harder-hitting moments of their self-titled release together, the band have made an album that suffers from disproportionate flow, unmotivated songwriting, and, yes, though concentrated solely on the band’s past work, recycled material. It’s really upsetting, too, as once a band removes that almost expected flair - in this case, that surprise element - that really made them stand out from the crowd initially, they then take a backseat and begin to fit in with the masses. It's not so much a relation of sounds to their sonic neighbors; it's more of a copying of tactics, and Age of the Fifth Son, I'm afraid, is where God Is An Astronaut begin to fit in with the others. This is one of the few instances in dealing with post-rock where I would say that it's best to go against the flow; too bad that God Is An Astronaut have seemly dove in head-first.
sputnikmusic.com
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ROSETTA - A DETERMINISM OF MORALITY [2010]

Somewhere around a year ago, Rosetta posted the following on their MySpace blog:

'Tonight at practice we had this collective epiphany where we threw off the shackles of the whole "post-metal" thing and decided that WE'RE DONE WITH 105 BPM. BRING ON 150 BPM! So we wrote our ENTIRE NEXT RECORD in an hour, and it's the fastest, craziest, kick-in-the-nuts thing since 1999.'

Underneath the facetiousness is some real frustration. Rosetta have always been uncomfortable being branded as a 'post-metal' group, to the point where the Genre section on their Facebook page currently reads 'Anything put "post"'. To be fair, their debut The Galilean Satellites bears more than a passing resemblance to the NeurISIS sound. Rosetta, however, have always been a staunchly DIY band and so the similarities to that genre are far more aesthetic than ideological.

This frustration seems to be the driving force behind A Determinism of Morality (ADOM from here on), Rosetta's third full-length and a real stylistic evolution. Far from being written in an hour, ADOM feels like a meticulously crafted piece of work that takes all of Rosetta's best qualities and shifts them towards a faster, more streamlined aesthetic. ADOM takes far more cues from post-hardcore acts such as Gospel and Frodus than it does from post-rock or metal, adopting techniques like gang vocals ("Revolve"), stop-start dynamics ("Ayil") and fast, ballsy riffs ("Renew"). But ADOM isn't just a "kick-in-the-nuts" either. Each song hosts some of the most beautiful and delicate moments of the band's career to date. As Wake/Lift did to a lesser extent, ADOM almost completely eschews traditional post-rock build-ups in favour of a more dynamically consistent approach to structure.

Instead of easing us in to the evolved sound, ADOM begins with its fastest, most jarring track. Much like Wake/Lift's opener "Red in Tooth and Claw", "Ayil" is a demonstration of the group's mastery of dynamics and full of anthemic, fist-in-the-air moments. Vocalist Mike Armine delivers one of his most intense performances to date underneath the song's galloping drumming and noodle-y guitar work. Indeed, all of the band members seem to have improved their playing both in technique and diversity. Drummer B.J. McMurtie's playing on previous releases was fancy and dynamically tasteful, but on ADOM he also proves he can rock the **** out with the best of them. Dave Grossman has always taken a solid, meat-and-potatoes approach to his bass playing (the perfect complement to Matt Weed's noisy, all-over-the-place guitar) and ADOM sees him becoming more adept, taking a more active and melodic role. Matt Weed's guitar is perhaps the thing that most sets Rosetta apart from their peers and his techniques are improved considerably here, like with the noisy stop-start riffing at the end of "Ayil" or the tasteful tapping at the end of "Renew". Weed's playing, however, moves away even further from being solely riff-based and sees him combining brutal, tight metal riffs with heavily delayed ambience that finds its niche equally in soft moments and in heavy ones.

"Ayil" is almost hardcore in its structure, riffing, and speed while still retaining the ambience and atmosphere that is crucial to the Rosetta sound. The rest of the album is equally straight-forward. "Je N'en Connais Pas la Fin", one of the best songs in the band's career so far, starts with a straight beat until vocals burst in and then gradually gets heavier until the song ends. The song avoids cliche by staying loud the entire time with guitar parts shifting from picked riffs to start-stop powerchords to spacey lead lines to tremolo picking and finally to chugging, Meshuggah-esque riffing. "Revolve", another highlight, follows a similar structure and employs gang vocals in conjunction to pretty, shimmery riffing to create one of the album's most emotionally poignant moments. "Blue Day For Croatoa" is the lone exception to the straight-forward approach of the rest of the album, being a short ambient piece in the vein of "(Temet Nosce)". Almost all ADOM's tracks stay below the seven minute mark and it's perhaps fitting that the one that exceeds it is the album closer. "A Determinism of Morality" clocks in at almost eleven minutes, not a second of which is wasted. The album version is improved in every way from the demo version that has been floating around the internet for about six months now. The drumming is more crisp and dynamic, the guitars are more clear and defined and the vocals are even more in-your-face. As a demo, the song was already one of the best Rosetta tracks to date. Now, fully realised, in all its glory with added gang vocals, "A Determinism of Morality" is a defining song that condenses everything great about Rosetta into a single track.

For me, what makes Rosetta a great band is their ability to combine all of their instrumental tricks and techniques, their tightness as a band, and their fondness for major-key prettiness into big, loud, expansive, heavy pieces. Their music in its final form becomes a wholly visceral experience because of the meticulous forethought that goes into it. ADOM adds dimensions to that sound, making it hit even harder on a gut-level but also crafting it into a more dense, thoughtful experience. In its brevity and evolution, ADOM is Rosetta's best work to date.

sputnikmusic.com

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DARKTHRONE - CIRCLE THE WAGONS [2010]

Those pining for a return to the times of A Blaze In the Northern Sky will again be disappointed. Darkthrone has left behind black metal like a first generation iPod. Those who have enjoyed Darkthrone's Motorhead/Black Flag hybrid of recent years will appreciate Circle The Wagons. The riffs are basic but workmanlike; the songs seethe with anger yet have a sense of humor and the tone is earthy and warm. Fenriz and Nocturno Culto never disguise their contempt for contemporary metal with choruses like: "I am the graves of the 80s...destroy this modern metal!" And they never forget that metal doesn't always have to be challenging - it can also just be fun.
heavymetal.about.com
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THE NEW PORNOGRAPHERS - TOGETHER [2010]

Trying to pinpoint the genius of the New Pornographers is a bit of a fool’s errand. The problem is that they do so many things exceptionally well, from crafting big hooks to winding through impossible melodies to cloaking meaning in clever wordplay. Most bands would kill to excel in just one of these areas, but the New Pornographers consistently combine all of them with an almost irritating nonchalance.

With just about every member of the band simultaneously maintaining a successful solo career or side project, it’s easy to see how so many ideas—and good ones, at that—end up in the New Pornographers’ songs. Perhaps, then, the real genius of the Pornographers is their ability to be both bewildering and catchy. Even though their albums are crammed with eccentric melodies, unexpected turns in songs, and a cumbersome sharing of duties from one song to the next, somehow their music never collapses under its own ambitious weight. What’s more, though their albums are growers, even the first listen reveals the band’s charms.

This has never been more apparent than on Together, the follow-up to 2007’s Challengers. Whereas that album was an uncharacteristic mellow detour in the Pornographers’ discography, Together is an unabashed return to the big, bold, and brainy power-pop of Twin Cinema, the 2005 LP that won critical acclaim from all corners and cemented the band’s reputation as a rare supergroup that actually deserves the title. As on previous albums, the creative frenzy is anchored by three forces: the Pet Sounds-inspired sunshine of de facto leader A.C. Newman, the detached vocal Bowie-isms of Dan Bejar, and the enchanting vocals of Neko Case. The push and pull of these three forces give the Pornographers their unique sound, at times colliding into one another unexpectedly, at other times effortlessly working in unison, at other times miraculously doing both.

Viewed from that perspective, Together couldn’t be more aptly titled, for it’s full of moments when those distinct influences interact in wonderfully odd ways. In “Sweet Talk, Sweet Talk”, for example, Newman cautiously lays a melody over a stuttering chord progression before the song’s chamber pop explodes into ‘70s guitar rock, with Case’s ethereal voice lifting the song into the atmosphere before it falls back down into Newman’s meticulous verses. If, perhaps, George Martin would have produced Cheap Trick, the result might very well have sounded like this.

Of course, such exhilarating moments are what you get with a band armed with so many weapons. Thankfully, one of those weapons is used to fuller effect than on previous New Pornographers albums. While it seems like a no-brainer to put Neko Case’s inimitable voice in every song, she’s been underused on previous albums, often relegated to supporting vocal roles that can seem like afterthoughts. Perhaps this has been due to the band members’ competing projects, but it’s a shame regardless. Here, Case’s presence is heard throughout the entire album. On “Crash Years”, another power pop gem that combines everything from strings to jangly guitar to whistling, her urgent, ethereal wail propels the track from start to finish. On other tracks, Case comes in to take over the chorus, such as on “Your Hands (Together)”, a blistering rocker that absolutely sears during her parts. The best moments, though, are when Case uses her voice to punctuate Newman’s, coming in slightly behind his to give the song tension, such as in the verses of “Sweet Talk, Sweet Talk”.

Not to be outdone, Dan Bejar offers up his share of classic moments, many of them quite unexpected. “Daughter of Sorrow”, for example, can only be described as David Bowie fronting Stereolab, with Bejar’s eerie, outer-space croon giving way to effervescent background cooing. It’s an odd pairing, no doubt, but one of the best moments on the album. And then there’s “Silver Jenny Dollar”, another Bejar-led track that is blissfully bouncy pop, the perfect backdrop to a summer drive.

To say that Together is the New Pornographers’ best album yet would be a brave statement—but only because the band’s body of work is so obscenely strong. Moreover, to make such arguments is a waste of time. The bottom line is this: Together is another masterstroke from the New Pornographers, one of those rare albums that reminds even the most jaded ear of the joys of pop music.
popmatters.com
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HEALTH - ::DISCO2

The members of Los Angeles noise outfit Health have a comfortable system going: Make an album, then tap esteemed artists and producers to remix every song on the LP. It's proven to be an excellent way to spotlight the band's affinity for intricate synths and dance rhythms. In 2008, Health released Disco, a remix album of their self-titled debut; its successor, Disco2, is a remix album of 2009's Get Color. Disco2 features remixes from Gold Panda, Crystal Castles, Javelin, CFCF and others, plus new track "USA Boys," a spacey, fidgety number that's right at home among the remixes.
 prefixmag.com
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FOALS - TOTAL LIFE FOREVER [2010]

Very shortly after their just-fine debut album, Antidotes, landed on these shores, the young Brits in Foals up and decided the record wasn’t any good. They said it wasn’t “insurmountable by any means,” and they publicly complained about TV on the Radio’s Dave Sitek’s production, which for some people was the only reason to give Foals any thought. Too many times before, we’ve heard the “but this isn’t the album we wanted to make!” argument from bands who underperformed out of the gate, which is why Foals' shtick feels so tired. But that’s also why it’s surprising that Foals’ sophomore album, Total Life Forever, is basically Antidotes 2.0: No Antibalas Horns. These guys apparently disliked how they sounded on their debut so much they decided to replicate it.

Because of that similarity, it feels like I’m reviewing Antidotes here, because the reasons why that album never completely connects are the same reasons that Total Life Forever doesn’t either. Lyrically, Foals are often cliché and direct (requests to go to someone’s arms, to come back, to “be there,” for example), but singer Yannis Philippakis, who clearly studied at the alter of Bono, is also sometimes hopelessly oblique and is often not saying anything at all (“Miami” has no references to the earth’s sweatiest city, and the phrase “total life forever” is unclear even after it gets shouted a bunch in the title track).

Foals still play with styles -- they can veer between poppy math rock and rocky angular post-punk -- and it still feels like they’re on the verge of a stylistic breakthrough that has yet to happen. For every sonic experiment like the vocal-sample built “This Orient,” there’s a sub Bloc Party-jack like “After Glow.” For every soaring, ready for ad placement jam like “Black Gold,” there’s a “Miami,” a song that lifts from Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis and Snow Patrol in equally awful measure.

The one thing Foals did succeed in on Total Life Forever is removing any sense that they’re a Dave Sitek studio creation, because his formerly heavy sonic fingerprint is nowhere to be found here. But what that actually means is that horns from Sitek’s pals in Antibalas aren’t around, and the guitars don’t sound as much like they were computer programmed. Everything else is in its right place.

All in all, though, Total Life Forever is a slightly more assured record from Foals; this time out they sound like they’ve taken complete ownership of their music. They were originally called out for being a new version of the umpteen shimmery post-punk bands that came before them, but with Total Life Forever, Foals can now (mostly) be considered as an entity unto themselves.  
prefixmag.com
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THE BLACK KEYS - BROTHERS [2010]

For four albums, the Black Keys’ sound was as obvious as the cover for their sixth album, Brothers: “This is an album by the Black Keys. The name of this album is Brothers.” So even after they took a (slight) left turn on 2008’s Attack & Release via a production team-up with the genre-bending Danger Mouse, even casual listeners had to know that the Keys would beat a hasty retreat to the environs of their skeletal blues-fuzz. Apart from lead single “Tighten Up,” the lone holdover from the now ceased Danger Mouse collaboration, the Keys do just that on Brothers. Produced by guitarist Dan Auerbach and drummer Patrick Carney, Brothers is the Keys’ tightest album since 2004’s Rubber Factory.

Being that the Black Keys’ sound begins with Junior Kimbrough’s skuzzy, raw take on the blues and ends with Credence Clearwater Revival, drawing lines between their catalog is an exercise in cutting the thinnest of hairs. The Keys have delivered some unimpeachable stretches on their albums (the first half of Rubber Factory, the first two-thirds of Thickfreakness, the middle third of The Big Come Up), but since Magic Potion the hit-to-OK ratio has diminished significantly. Brothers, at least through the country-western-on-acid howl of “The Only One,” doubles down on the Black Keys’ greatest strengths in a big way. There are the witchy women burners (“Next Girl,” “She’s Long Gone”), the dusty speaker exploders (“Tighten Up,” “Howlin’ For You”), all of which will surely crush festivalgoers in the near future.

The bulk of Brothers is clogged with the slower blues-ballads the band has padded its albums with since the jump (ironically, those songs hardly ever make it on the set list at the band’s concerts). Granted, those songs might put the Keys more firmly into the blues lineage they strive for, but for every Wall of Sound ditty like “Never Give You Up” there are a couple songs charging hard for treacle territory. But nothing here falls as flat as the similar songs on the band’s past two albums, particularly due to Auerbach’s improved vocal range. He is able to change his voice between delicate, bruised, ballsy and sweet, sometimes in the same song.  

Perhaps the most remarkable thing about Brothers is that it finds The Black Keys so firmly back in their old mode after a year when they did everything they could to distance themselves from their past. Auerbach went solo and released an album that updated his sound to Neil Young and Crazy Horse rock, while Carney joined up in a jokey band made up of Ohio drummers called, of course, Drummer. Then they teamed with Damon Dash (and Jim Jones!) for Blakroc, an album that took all the songwriting pressure off Auerbach and Carney and instead put it on Mos Def and other rappers (and Jim Jones!). Brothers, meanwhile, proves that the Keys can still put a few more miles on their well-driven blues machine, regardless of what direction their non-Keys work takes them.

prefixmag.com
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HOLY FUCK - LATIN [2010]

It makes for repetitive reading, but three albums and an EP into Holy Fuck’s career and their name still makes for the best lede. It’s fitting though, as it’s the first thing you’re faced with when talking about this band, and some might argue it’s the only reason anyone remembers their unmemorable take on electro-rock. It’s not just the obscenity that sets them apart—Fuck Buttons, Fucked Up, and Psychedelic Horseshit all have obscene names that fit with their sound. What makes “Holy Fuck” a band name with so much more to live up to is the fact that it is nothing but expletive. Whereas the others operate well—Fuck Buttons do indeed mix the saccharine and the harsh; Fucked Up make some very intense hardcore (or: talk about how “fucked up” the world is); and Psychedelic Horseshit shows the group’s psychedelic noise tendencies with a delicious tinge of self-awareness—“Holy Fuck” is, at best, what you’re presumably supposed to say when you hear the band for the first time. If Latin is the group’s first record you listen to, however, chances are you won’t be saying that.

For the uninitiated, Holy Fuck do their best to approximate electronic music with live instruments: the usual guitar/bass/drums lineup and a smattering of other devices (cheap keyboards, prepared synths, etc.). Considering that, it makes sense that the group’s gained the stigma of a band best seen live. On record, the sound itself is not appreciably different from their sample-based peers, and musically comes off far less tight than laptop electronica, leaving Latin somewhere between neo-prog and early-oughts dance-rock.

The movement towards a more straightforward pop/rock guise suits the band well. They’ve largely ditched the Broken Social Scene-esque mixing of post-rock structure into standard-rock songs and as a result are decidedly more rockist. Holy Fuck’s muscular rhythm section is really flexing itself here; the songs pulse, chug, and bounce as appropriate. Even on the album’s more mellow tracks (“Latin America” and “P.I.G.S.”), the rhythm section holds together floating synths and Go! Team-esque keyboard work. These tracks (along with opener “MD”) make up the more experimental side of the album’s oeuvre, drawing closer to the droney electronic of Fuck Buttons than to the rock they so deftly explore elsewhere.

Nowhere do they explore the essence of “rock” quite as well as they do on “Red Lights”. Built around a throbbing bassline and pounding drums, the song’s verses embrace twitchy post-punk and soaring synths while the bouncing chorus hits all the right spots. Similarly impressive is the poorly-titled (seeing a trend here) “SHT MTN”. Built around a fuzzed-out guitar line, it’s the only song on the record to sound vaguely noisy, but it doesn’t bother with any sort of “experimental” structure; the rhythm section motors along while the synths and guitars slowly build, all accompanied by the only discernible vocal line on the album—a robotic voice repeating “H-O-L-Y F-U-C-K”.

That they choose to use a robotic voice in one of the few instances they aren’t purely instrumental brings to mind another band who recently made “rock” into something unironic and modern: Battles. Where Battles brought something slightly more cerebral to the table, Holy Fuck is content to make the pop-rock equivalent of that. Their robotic, muscular stylings—lacking any cheesy vocal content—allows them to make music that decidedly “rocks” without any of the irony that comes along with traditional rock and roll in today’s scene. Still, the production leaves Latin a bit flat at times, and not every song is as memorable as a good pop-rock song needs to be. It’s nice to see the group moving in a new direction, but for a band with such a confrontational name it’s disappointing how little passion they inspire.
popmatters.com
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THE NATIONAL - HIGH VIOLET [2010]

For The National's Matt Berninger, personal demons often take on literal forms. "It's a terrible love and I'm walking with spiders." "I was carried to Ohio in a swarm of bees." "I was afraid I'd eat your brains, 'cause I'm evil." Berninger's deep, deadpan baritone, when dressed up in intricately lovely arrangements, can make The National's music seem remote at times. But his words are the stuff of blood and guts; the stuff of emotions so powerful, they're downright gruesome.
No mere navel-gazer, Berninger knows how to enshroud his gloomy observations in mystery and nuance, and he's surrounded by music that broods and swells at all the right times. EPs and an odds-and-ends collection aside, High Violet is The National's fifth album, and it spends a good deal of time gently roughing up the glimmering beauty of its divine predecessor, Boxer. But the new record still achieves the balance that's made the band so widely beloved: It locates the sweet spot between majesty and mopery, catharsis and wallowing, soaring grace and wounded confessionals.
Formed in Cincinnati and based in Brooklyn, N.Y., The National finds Berninger collaborating with two pairs of brothers: Aaron and Bryce Dessner (both guitarists, with Aaron also playing piano) and Scott and Bryan Devendorf (on bass and drums, respectively). High Violet, their first new studio album in three years, will stream here in its entirety until its release on May 11. Please leave your thoughts on the album in the comments section below.
npr.org

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WOODS - AT ECHO LAKE [2010]

Woods improve exponentially on their stellar Songs of Shame, and come out the kings of Brooklyn lo-fi

It’s probably easy to hate on Woods. The band plays what has been invariably described as “spooky campfire folk” with a serious hippie-1960s-classic rock influence, which would be all well and good if they came from where their music sounded like it came from (say, Vermont). Fact is, however, they’re from Brooklyn. Yes, another Brooklyn hipster band, and this one with the audacity to sing songs about woods and lakes when anyone who’s been to Brooklyn knows these things exist there in very short supply.

But what separates Woods from the rest of the bands in their circle (Jeremy Earl, songwriter, guitarist and lead falsetto warbler, runs the band’s label, Woodsist, also home to Real Estate, among others) is the sheer quality of the songwriting. Earl has the talent of making simple proclamations (“Oh, how the days will rain on you”) seem impossibly deep, existentialist, philosophical. While peers like Real Estate traffic in reverby, hazy nostalgia, Woods pursue a straightforward emotional honesty and sincerity, another thing seriously lacking in Brooklyn these days. It’s rare to find a band in modern indie-rock so far removed from the hipster irony and apathy that surrounds them. It’s also commendable; one thing that stands as indie rock’s greatest detriment is its fear of confronting adult, human emotions, retreating instead into nostalgia and feigned childhood innocence. Woods don’t play that game here. Everything is laid naked, as bare-bones as their recording approach, a lo-fi aesthetic that’s justified (unlike some bands) in that the tape-hiss intimacy is a perfect reflection of the frailty of the music therein. There’s a timeless quality to these songs that most bands would surely kill to replicate.

At Echo Lake is Woods’ most enduring document yet. While the stellar Songs of Shame had some killer tracks (“Rain On”, “The Number”), it also had “September With Pete” and other desperate padding/filler. There’s no filler to be found on At Echo Lake. The album’s brief, Weezer-like runtime of twenty-nine minutes is justified in that the music never overstays its welcome. That unfettered approach results in gorgeous two-minute pop-folk songs that simply make their point and leave. If only other bands knew such restraint and self-control (hello there, Yeasayer). It’s what takes Woods beyond mere potential and into the realm of a truly great band with this release. Full of perfect songs, not one of them filler, each one diverse and experimental yet never straying too far from the typical Woods sound, this album may well stand as a future classic release.

At Echo Lake opens with “Blood Dries Darker”, a classic-rock raveup and by far the album’s longest song at four-and-a-half bluesy minutes (the guitar acrobatics on this album impress almost as much as the songwriting itself does). “Pick Up” follows, more of that spooky campfire folk that was only occasionally present on Shame, but which thankfully makes more than a mere cameo appearance here. Album standout “Suffering Season” is third, one of the few tracks sounding truly “produced” here, full of chiming Byrds guitars and Pet Sounds/Phil Spector bells-and-whistles. It’s a new sound for the band, and a welcome one, before “Time Fading Lines” slips in, a gentle country ballad in the vein of “The Number”, but even better. At the album’s halfway mark, even “From The Horn”, a psychedelic instrumental jam, has its place as the perfect interlude and placeholder before moving onward. Lucas Crane’s tape effects hover in the background, all feedback and blurry rumbles, but they serve to effectively underline the sonic point of the acoustic leads, and manage to sound less anachronistic than bands with similar aims.

And so the album breathes from there. “I Was Gone” has a vaguely Latin feel, minor key and swirling, while “Deep” showcases a Paul Simon/Brian Wilson arrangement that brings Earl’s soaring falsetto to a new, spine-chilling level. The album closes perfectly with “Til The Sun Rips”, showing off some of the most gorgeous harmonies this side of Fleet Foxes before this journey to Echo Lake draws to a close.

The progression between Songs of Shame and At Echo Lake is simply stunning. The prior was a collection of songs, mishmash, some very good, others dull or verging on pointless and derivative. At Echo Lake is a body of work, a single statement of artistic purpose, and one that shows a band standing head and shoulders above many of its brethren in the Brooklyn indie-rock crowd. The greatest compliment one could give to Earl and Company is that they are doing something truly unique in an often uncreative genre that in 2010 is verging dangerously on self-parody. That they’ve done it on their own terms is something very special, indeed.
popmatters.com
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BROKEN SOCIAL SCENE - FORGIVENESS ROCK RECORD [2010]

It's hard to deny the influence of Toronto's expansive independent music community. As a vital part of the last decade's Canadian rock explosion, Toronto has been an incubator for the likes of Feist, Jason Collett, Stars and Metric; in the process, it's become a part of indie-rock folklore. At its center is Broken Social Scene, which functions as the connective tissue for a sprawling array of satellite acts.
When it got started, Broken Social Scene could balloon to 15 or more people on stage, operating much like a rock 'n' roll boot camp for musicians to collaborate and cut their teeth. And while many of those side bands have found great success in the mainstream and transitioned into full-time gigs, Broken Social Scene carries on. From the beginning, the group's spiritual and musical identity has been driven by its co-founders, Kevin Drew and Brendan Canning. These days, after a pair of solo albums under the banner of "Broken Social Scene Presents," the two are getting the band back together. Their latest album is Forgiveness Rock Record, and it's Broken Social Scene's first since 2005.
This time out, the group has been pared down to a leaner, more manageable core of musicians (Drew, Canning, Charles Spearin, Andrew Whiteman, Justin Peroff and relative newcomers Lisa Lobsinger and Sam Goldberg). It also brought in John McEntire, the veteran Chicago producer and multi-instrumentalist best known for his work with Tortoise and The Sea and Cake. Both changes are felt immediately on Forgiveness Rock Record.
While there's still a cascading exuberance to Drew and Canning's work, the songs convey a tighter sense of focus and sonic consistency. From the yearning of "Sweetest Kill" to the fizzy electronics and plucky strings of "All to All" to the off-kilter loops and ambient sounds of "Ungrateful Little Father," McEntire's tasteful musical sculpting has added layered nuance which brings out the best in Drew and the various singers.
That said, there are plenty of grandly rocking moments, well suited for this summer's many outdoor festivals: The slow-building jam of "World Sick" begins with a moody electronic soundscape and a clean groove, but climaxes with blissful orchestrated cacophony. Then there's the guitar-driven fist-pumper "Forced to Love," the soaring and funky horn section of "Art House Director," and the sweet synth-pop mantra "Sentimental X's," which gives way to a rapturous chorus of female voices and swirling keyboards.
Still, it wouldn't be a Broken Social Scene album without a string of guests. The usual suspects are mostly present: Feist, Emily Haines and Amy Millan, as well as members of Do Make Say Think, Tortoise and even The Sea and Cake's Sam Prekop.
Forgiveness Rock Record will stream here in its entirety until its release on May 4. Please leave your thoughts on the album in the comments section below.
npr.org

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JÓNSI - GO [2010]

The last Sigur Rós album was seen as the band's most commercial offering to date. The arrangements seemed to strive towards something that could be loosely termed as "pop". Band leader Jónsi Birgisson even sang in English on the final track All Alright. This ruffled a few feathers amongst those who preferred the abstract crooning that came with the nonsensical lyrics that Sigur Rós had employed down the years.
Some may find the use of English on this, Jónsi's debut solo album, abhorrent. Others may welcome the opportunity to gain a more direct insight into the meanings of these songs. Either way, Jónsi 's delivery is such that it's easy to get lost in what he's doing with his voice rather than what is being said.
Those with an ear to the ground will have already caught the wonderful Boy Lilikoi, a song which is naïve in its approach to life and succeeds with a flurry of childlike innocence. It grows and swells with warmth, imploring those lucky enough to hear it to enjoy life before it is too late, with "use your life, the world goes and flutters by" being the key refrain. The vocal harmonies collapse over each other in seemingly endless fashion, drums thunder and skip in equal measure, and flutes are playfully light as they flutter around the ever growing strings. Has 'pop' music ever sounded this wonderful?
Likewise, opening track Go Do features an exquisite vocal and, although it's possible to grab snatches of sense, it's far easier to get swept up in the layered tones. The bass drum pounds like the heart of someone who's just discovered what love at first sight means, while the flutes and piccolos flit around the central vocal like glittering fairies, adding a mysterious sparkle.
If there's a theme to be found in the lyrics of Go, it must be that life is fleeting and is here to be enjoyed. This much is clear in the joyful percussive stomp of Animal Arithmetic, where the simple pleasures of combing hair and riding bikes take on an almost sepia toned charm. Delicate woodwind touches are hidden behind a glut of pummelling drums and assorted other clunks and whirs, but they colour the track just enough to ensure that the magical quality remains in what is otherwise a thunderous track.
Supporting Jónsi on this project is increasingly ubiquitous composer Nico Muhly. His arrangements are vital in ensuring that these songs attain spectacular heights. Tornado, to take one example, overflows with beautiful strings complementing a solitary bass-drum kick, and transforms a rather sinister song into something approaching that familiar ethereal Sigur Rós sound. Naturally Jónsi's vocals soar into a higher register as the song builds to a climax, whereupon he sounds like an angel in the throws of sinful ecstasy.
Muhly's presence is more keenly felt on Grow Till Tall and Hengilas. The tearaway percussion that drives Animal Arithmetic and the madly danceable Around Us is absent, and mournful strings take their place. Fans of earlier Sigur Rós material will find enough here to keep them happy, with cellos creating the pulse of the songs while Jónsi's consonant-free vocal style returns to breathe life into them. If the likes of Boy Lilikoi are the life of Go's party, then the aching cellos of Hengilas are its soul.
Go is a phenomenal record with almost every bar bursting with beauty. It is soulful, fun, naïve and sad in its own fantastical world; if only life really were this good. This is a record that will make you believe it could be.
musicomh.com
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YAHZARAH - THE BALLAD OF PURPLE ST. JAMES [2010]

YahZarah’s fourth album could be heard as the third part of a trilogy that began with the Foreign Exchange’s Leave It All Behind (2008) and continued with Nicolay’s City Lights, Vol. 2 (2009). Like those earlier albums, The Ballad of Purple St. James is driven by Nicolay and Phonte and involves input from members of the extended FE family, as well as the Real Focus. YahZarah had worked on and off with the duo for several years, but never in a concentrated burst like this. The album allows the singer and songwriter to flash her vocal and thematic flexibility in ways her previous albums did not. Most salient is “Why Dontcha Call Me No More,” a gracefully hurtling kiss-off. It could be covered by No Doubt and taken to the Top Ten, but it’s probable that the song would lose some of its bite. YahZarah, whose voice here resembles that of Gwen Stefani, albeit with none of the cutesiness, delivers one of the most commanding scorned-lover performances in recent memory. At the point where an ad-lib or something innocuous is expected, just as handclaps and “whoa-oh”s enter, she slips in an additional verse that begins with “I hope you have a little girl, and she’s the apple of your eye” — uh-oh — and ends with “I hope somebody makes her cry” and a vaguely brainsick laugh. There are other moments when the singer’s magnetic forthrightness is on display, as on the pulsing and intense “The Lie” (“If you gotta go through hell with somebody, why won’t you do it with me?”) and the prime Neptunes/Kelis-like “Change Your Mind” (“I can turn your world around in a heartbeat, and bring you to your knees again”). The more sensitive songs, including a gliding duet with Darien Brockington, a devotional ballad resembling a Teena Marie session in Memphis, and a gleaming Afrofuturist anthem, are just as affecting.
blog.allmusic.com

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