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CAMERA OBSCURA
Let’s Get Out of This Country
There must be something in the water in Glasgow that makes certain bands emanating there create folksy pop inspired by 60s girl groups. Belle and Sebastian did it in the mid-90s to great effect, and now Camera Obscura are following in their hallowed indie footsteps. The sweet voiced hums of Tracyanne Cambell welcome the listener to Let’s Get Out of This Country, and fans of B&S will find many familiar elements. Not only is the clean, deeply reverberated instrumentation similar, but so too is the middle class anxiety, the artistic insecurity and the Catholic guilt. But it’s by and large an enjoyable affair. “Lloyd, I’m Ready to be Heartbroken,” aside from having a title that’s way too long, is an infectious finger snapper if there ever was one. Tracks like “Tears for Affairs” and “Let’s Get Out of This Country” reveal the groups affinity for The Shangri-Las, The Supremes and their ilk, with rhythms and grooves that would have the Shadow Morton boozily running to his lawyers in no time flat. S’OK.
The Chemical Brothers
Push the Button
Daft Punk
Human After All
In recent years, superstar dance acts born from the 90s primordial ooze have found themselves scribbled into an unenviable corner. Wandering about in a ghastly landscape somewhat reminiscent of Dante’s Third Layer of Hell, haunted by the ghosts of rave culture’s past, those still persevering in today’s music scene are faced with the choice of coming up with something severely mackin’ it, or packin’ it in and heading for the hills. Two of the most valiant warriors to emerge from the E-infected haze, the Chemical Brothers and Daft Punk, recently made bold moves by releasing albums.
Push the Button is in some senses the Chemical Brothers’ most serious and artistically mature album to date. With this release, they break free from the big beat rave clichés and come into their own. While their virgin effort, Exit Planet Dust may have made a name for them as players in the dance music game, and Surrender put in motion an eventual acid house revival, Push the Button finally blasts Ed and Tom off into new territory. Beginning with an obvious yet never before so implicitly explored avenue, “Galvanize” both admits and celebrates the Brothers’ hip hop influences by utilizing the A Tribe Called Quest quarterback Q-Tip over a neurotic sitar loop. The second track, “The Boxer,” also uses a vocalist—this time Charlatans’ front man Tim Burgess doing a very convincing Lenny Kravitz impersonation. “Surface to Air” ends the album with perhaps one of their finest tracks yet. It is a foray into what they know best—a comedown track inspired by the best of what Britpop has to offer—electrified, and surging with hope, wonder and astral soul.
Indeed, the Chemical Brothers are well versed in the lesson that the weight of expectation is extremely hard to shuck off if you are, admittedly, only Human After All. This appropriate phrase can be used for both an album title for Daft Punk’s most recent release and a pathetic sort of apology. Whereas this French media savvy group has never before failed to astound dance music lovers, breaking new ground and filling floors with both Homework and Discovery, this new album leaves one wondering—why they would be possessed to release something so foul? The rumor circulating on the web is that this album was recorded in two weeks, which was the first sign that it was going to go over like a lead zeppelin. While this kind of cavalier recording method may work, and even be preferred, for some road-weary, tight-as-hell, rock ‘n roll machine, that kind of shit just ain’t gonna fly in electronic music. In a world where time and space are collapsed by technologic wizardry, there is very little room for cutting corners. But hey, maybe it is just a rumor. Maybe DP had years to make Human After All… Unfortunately, from an artistic standpoint, the record sounds like this may be the sad truth. While their first track, “Human After All,” admittedly kicks serious ass—shifting shapes and moving feet with a creatively used vocoder—things go decidedly downhill thereafter. “Television Rules the Nation” and “Technologic” both start promisingly, but end up taking the listener nowhere.
BE YOUR OWN PET
Be Your Own Pet
If making cute punk rock were a crime, this band would be on Death Row. It’s not about the way they look—there are no pics of the band on the CD packaging. It’s in the way they sound. Which is weird, because really loud, distorted, frenetic punk rock songs clocking in at two minutes or less are not normally considered “cute.” But these, somehow, are. They’re like the Eighth Wonder of the World or something. It’s like listening to Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers—you just want to jump in and hug them while their playing their instruments. I think it must have something to do with Kathleen Hanna—severe cutie in her own right and vocalist of Bikini Kill and Le Tigre. She was one of the first girls of who made screaming crazy shit over punk guitars cool. Be Your Own Pet vocalist, Jemina Pearl Abegg, was obviously heavily influenced by Hanna’s legacy (and has also garnered comparisons to Karen O. of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs), but she takes it to a new level by shouting ridiculous lyrics like, “I’m an independent mother f***er, and I’m here to steal your virginity!” But it’s not just her. The whole band rocks, like, cutely. There’s something about the way they do it that’s just so darn adorable, it’s a crime. Can we lock these people up, please?
ED HARCOURT
The Beautiful Lie
Some singer/songwriters introduce the world to such unique and singular dimensions, it’s no wonder that they work outside the context of a band. They’re loners, and when their songs are sung, no matter how many musicians accompany them, it seems like they stand alone on the stage. Tom Waits is one such songwriter, who has become known for his croaky voice, bizarre characters and creative production style. Ed Harcourt here on his sixth album continues this tradition, cherishing the offbeat, marching through the town square on The Beautiful Lie like a honky tonk circus gone haywire. Though when he wails his voice may sound more akin to Jeff Beck, the lyrical and stylistic territory he explores will be familiar to early-Waits fans. The opening track, “Whirlwind in D Minor,” is infectious with a cool Spanish guitar riff and haunting falsetto. Harcourt shows on “You Only Call Me When You’re Drunk” that he’s not just good with a melody but a sharp arranger, too. This ode to moments of weakness is cleverly structured a lot like a drunken phone call—starts sweet and nostalgic, then mutates into a spiraling shouting match by its ugly conclusion. “The Pristine Claw” even sees him peeking over the fence into the neighboring Simon and Garfunkel marshes. Caution: burgeoning genius at work.
PHOENIX
It’s Never Been Like That
Though Phoenix have not cornered the market on swinging, sunny pop tunes with a discernable beat, they are one of the notable ones in the crowd. Having started off their career with housey/R&B inflected pop songs; the band has since ditched the beat boxes for guitars and drums, which does suit them a bit better, albeit without the dance floor friendliness. Aside from their lame opening track (“Napoleon Says”), It’s Never Been Like That is an immensely enjoyable indie pop album. Though it lacks some of the edginess of Alphabetical, it makes up for it in sheer approachability. Their songs have always been populated with empty poetics of little meaning, and that unfortunately, has not changed, but it’s still a fun album. “Long Distance Call” starts with a distinctly Strokes sounding intro before filling up the verses with pillowy synth sounds and catchy melodies. “Second to None” sees the band intelligently integrating The Cars and Talking Heads, with a neurotic guitar on the verses and David Byrne’s voice quivers in the chorus. “One Time Too Many” takes the listener down a nostalgia-lined alleyway paved in regret, and exhibits the heights the band is capable of. “North” is their one instrumental, which sees them doing a mellow jam with a jangly guitar line, atmospheric synths and a loopy rhythm section reminiscent of fellow countrymen, Stereolab. This is the album the Strokes have been meaning to make for the past 3 years…and have failed to do it with as much style as Phoenix here carries off.