2008, Thrill Jockey
Terrible Two by Thank You grabs the listener—but not gently: by the shirt collar.
At five songs and a cumulative 35 minutes, Terrible Two is a mishmash of noise, intense drumming, strange interludes, and howling vocals. It’s a prickly kind of record that is at times almost religious (title track) but rarely harmonious (any given track).
When the extended vacation taken by his regular band left him feeling restless, Strokes rhythm guitarist Albert Hammond decided to go solo. His debut, last year’s Yours To Keep, was a refreshing and superb collection of breezy, idyllic pop, free of all the self-consciousness that had plagued the Strokes’ last two albums.
Hammond has never seemed bothered that the spotlight usually fixes on bandmate Julian Casablancas, and his decision to become a solo artist has never felt like an attention grab. The songs on Yours To Keep were casual and unpretentious, as if written by accident — the Strokes re-imagined as West Coast beach bums instead of East Coast bohemians. Little more than a year has passed since that record was released, but Hammond is already back with ¿Cómo Te Llama?, an album that attempts to increase the depth of emotion without losing the laid-back vibe. Continue reading
One of the things one does not expect to hear when putting on a Dead Heart Bloom album is Built To Spill. Yet this is exactly what happens in the opening moments of Fall In, the new EP that finds the band throwing everything they can at the wall and seeing what sticks.
This shotgun-approach to style is almost always a recipe for disaster (I’m looking at you, My Morning Jacket), and it’s all the more egregious when the band in question has already settled into a winning formula. Dead Heart Bloom’s previous release, Chelsea Diaries [All of their albums are available for free on their site —Ed], was an intimate, string-heavy collection of acoustic songs that showcased Boris Skalsky’s beautiful vocals, all while tugging gently at the heartstrings.
For a band whose live performances are marked by their theatricality and infectious intensity, The Silent Comedy’s recordings can be surprisingly intimate affairs. Their debut full-length, Sunset Stables, emphasized narrative and restraint over whiskey drinking and foot stomping, and now, on their self-titled EP, they pick up where that record left off.
From the opening moments of maudlin country ballad “Daisyâ€, The Silent Comedy draws you into a rich world of broken bottles and shattered hearts. The song nimbly swells, retreats, then swells again, a ribcage barely containing the heart within. J. John’s vocals intertwine in a tender duet with I. Forbes’ gorgeous violin, and when he begs, “Break me, Daisyâ€, it’s hard to believe that she hasn’t done so already.
2008, Mungler Winslowe
The prolific Casey Brant takes a big step forward with Jumping Ship & Other Stores.