the kills - midnight boom

Allson Mosshart has just climbed onto the thin, wobbly railing enclosing the Waterloo Records in-store stage. She is hovering over the crowd, fearless of her precarious balance despite the steep narrow heels of her gray boots, and commanding the railing as if it were an arena stage. She beckons the crowd with her slyly derisive tones, while her musical partner, Jamie Hince, plays grizzly, seductive guitar rhythms. The crowd is held captive, manipulated by Mosshart’s fearlessness and the teasing escalations of songs that build but never climax. On “Midnight Boom” the band experiments with their aesthetic in a number of ways, but their adventurousness, spellbinding presence, and sexually charged textures—so aptly personified in their live performances--remain the band’s most recognizable feature.

The Kills’ music defies categorization. Their aesthetic is undeniably post-modern, integrating drum machines and every day sounds (like dialtones) into a garage rock aesthetic. For all of their gritty, seductive edges, their records are remarkably contained, feeling edgy but not sinister, and if anything, the best way to define it is through the group’s performance behavior, intriguing and suggestive as the obvious sexual tension between the bandmates, and forceful and commanding like Mosshart’s conquest of the tiny railing and Hinces’s virulent guitars.

Midnight Boom breaks apart rock conventions and circumscriptions of their own aesthetic, only to return to traditional rock on the album’s best songs. The band takes turns playing coy and indifferent, experimenting with flat post-modern aesthetics and schoolyard pop flourishes. Many of the songs strip The Kills’ already minimalist aesthetic to percussion-only accompaniment. And while synthetic percussive sounds give the songs a post-modern flair, they ultimately lack the vitality that Hince’s guitar work would produce.

The album opens with U.R.A. Fever, a song grounded in near melodic phone sounds and tin-like percussive rhythms. Its sexual undercurrent is palpable, but without Hince’s virulent guitar it never soars above its sauntering tempo. The album then takes a sharp right turn to “Cheap and Cheerful” a bouncy, hook heavy song, vibrant but without any substance. The album’s most successful track, “Tape Song” cleverly plays with dynamics and aesthetics. A simple drum machine loop anchors the song and during the verse is almost the only audible accompaniment to Mosshart’s textured vocals. Hince’s sexy, angular guitar works comes to the fore during the chorus and remains in different degrees throughout the song. The song’s intensity subtly builds to the final chorus where Mosshart’s rich vocals seem to be spitting with derision. “Last Day of Magic” echoes the sparing versus/rock chorus of “Tape Song,” but with a warmer, more upbeat atmosphere. The Springsteen swagger of its chorus makes for good pop fodder, but it never reaches the contrast and emotive depth of its sister song. “Hook and Line” channels early PJ Harvey with raw, charged guitars and strong, pissed off vocals. “Goodnight bad morning,” perhaps the only successful diversion—U.R.A. fever comes close—is a reflective song grounded by an acoustic guitar picked melody and Mosshart’s sweet, thoughtful vocals. A fitting closure to a coy and indifferent album, and a reminder that sincerity is always more resonant than acting cool.

It’s hard to criticize a band for experimenting, but sometimes, they should just stick with what they know. For all their suggestive gestures and innovative techniques, Midnight Boom is ultimately tepid. And that’s a shame, because when they do what they do best, they really nail it.

these new puritans - beat pyramid

If we were in the middle of some dystopian future, These New Puritans would be our soundtrack. Distant and dispassionate, TNP incorporate technology’s darker side into post-punk’s already moody themes. Though songs are grounded in the genre’s intricate, rhythmically-centered contest between guitar and drums, they diverge from the telos and containment structuring the genre. Its more purposeful exchanges are constantly usurped by futuristic voids, grounded only by electronic drums and isolated vocals. Even the more familiar elements are constantly shifting and many songs lack a landing strip to soothe worried listeners. But it is precisely this lack of familiarity that makes the music so contemporary and innovative. At its best, the group strays from traditionally propulsive tempos and crafts a new dynamic.

“Elvis” is the album’s most listener friendly track; opening to loosely strung bass chords and forceful, spoken vocals, its chorus of shuffling drums and synthesizer drones sound like a mid-tempo version of Bloc Party. ‘Numerology (AKA Numbers)” strength is in the taut determined rhythms of its verse, its angular guitars and forcefully abrupt vocals puncturing the authority of the infrequently shuffling drums. “Navigate-Colours” opens with an inventive build of synthetic elements almost identical to an orchestra warming up, but its gritty UK pop feels too familiar and lead singer bennn lacks the vocal skill the song’s aesthetic requires. “4” is frighteningly experimental and disorienting, a circling rhythm is the only constant to an unrelenting barrage of synthetic bass drones, creepy electronic movements, multiple drum variations, and the cold loop of angular guitars. “Swords of Truth” opens with a warped horn introduction, which trades hands with nihilistic guitar chords as the only melodic components of a cold and distant drum and vocal foundation. Other songs drift toward more experimental or more traditional UK Rock, but These New Puritans are at their best when navigating the cold and disorienting world of rhythm and void.

the raveonettes - lust lust lust

It’s a simple formula. Take catchy, retro-inspired melodies and rough them up a bit. That way you get the influences on your sleeve without being assailed for being derivative. The Raveonettes new album Lust Lust Lust has its influences tattooed in the production style informing each retro-infused track: The Jesus and Mary Chain. Channeling the 80s noise pop group, this album finds the Raveonettes juxtaposing catchy melodic pop with lo-fi production and heavy distortion. It is an album steeped in contrasts, where the sweet vocals and facile melodies are invariably subsumed by a background of heavy feedback, distortion, and reverb. Even the pacing between the textures plays to dramatic contrasts, instead of building up to feedback climaxes the screeching guitar squalls abruptly enter the scene with no portent then equally abruptly cut back to the song’s softer elements. —one which the Raveonettes seem ever ready to allude to—shared vocals between boy and girl, a song titled “Black/White,” and the black and white video for dead sounds.

To be fair, this album isn’t exceptional because it manipulates dynamics and production elements. And in fact, the least exciting songs on the album—“You want the Candy,” “Blush”—float by only on their conspicuous aesthetic contrasts and fall flat after a few listens. What makes the album memorable, rather than merely novel, are the rhythmic intricacies and precise song construction of its better tracks. “Dead Sound,” begins with feedback heavy guitar intro and bridges and its sweet and smooth vocal phrasing is punctuated by crisp, steady drum beats. Feedback fuzz surrounds the metallic guitar vibratos. “Black/White” is suffused with mystery, and the duo trades their standard saccharine vocals for a more seductive phrasing. A pumped looping bass darts stealthily as a tin like drum rhythm interpolates the movement like a thousand cheerleaders clapping in unison. “Sad Transmission” is soaked in reverb, its individual instrumental pieces indistinguishable from one another. The most retro vocals on the album merge with the instrumental haziness creating a haunting feel.

Lust Lust Lust is a dense and exquisitely crafted album that requires high volumes and focused listening. It may not hook you at first, but give it a few headphone listens and you won't be disappointed.

Destroyer - Trouble in Dreams

For a member of radio-friendly indie power pop group The New Pornographers, Dan Bejar has had a surprisingly longevitous affair with experimentalism. Since 1996, Bejar has been recording theatrically imbued pop gems under the moniker Destroyer. While some artists experiment with theatrics to their own detriment—eviscerating the musicality of their pieces like the narrative interpolating, disjointed construction of The Fiery Furnaces’ Rehearsing my Choir or experimental efforts lacking structure which might better be categorized as “noise” or “sounds” than “music”—Bejar’s music maintains a musicality and pop sensibility which belies his experimental whims.

Trouble in Dreams, released in March, is Bejar’s newest as Destroyer. While the album is rooted in guitar-based pop-rock, some tracks have more in common with rock opera than their indie folk counterparts. But even on the traditional tracks Bejar’s theatrical flair breathes energy into the most routine chord progressions, disrupting traditional song sequences with abrupt rhythmic changes and creative phrasing all while maintaining a fairly cohesive aesthetic. Single “Dark Leaves from a Thread” proffers hooky, lo-key rock with an injection of vitality from Bejar’s textured nasal vocals and rhythmic dexterity. “Plaza Trinidad” and “Leopard of Honor” escalate into epic dynamic modulation, manipulating your emotions and maintaining your attention with narrative allusions. “The State” juxtaposes a conventional folk melody with crashing drums and a dramatically soaring and falling guitar, while Bejar spits out his lyrics with derision. Trouble in Dreams posits excellent and unusual song construction, but Bejar’s versatile voice is its star. From dreamlike to sinister, rich to garbled, Bejar’s voice is always beckoning, and Destroyer is quite a journey if you’re in for the ride.

she and him - volume 1

On She and Him’s Volume One, actress Zooey Deschanel pairs up with under-the-radar Merge artist M. Ward to flesh out her songs and a few covers. The album drifts fluidly through mid-century pop and country, its cohesive force secured by Deschanel’s distinctive and malleable voice. It’s easy surprised when you first hear Zooey Deschanel’s textured twang. The doe-eyed actress best known as the sister in Almost Famous, voice is rich and knowing even when drenched in nostalgia.

The songs work best when a driving accompaniment is moving them forward, when Deschanel drifts toward nostalgia she often gets lost in the song. And while her voice conjures sentimentality with naivete and knowing, sometimes her vocals are awkwardly phrased and lack fluidity. “Sentimental Heart” has a charming bedroom feel, just a girl singing laments over a simple piano melody, but would benefit more from a faster tempo. Deschanel is more commanding in songs like “I was made for you” with its swinging 50s pop and rockabilly flutters and the bright Nancy Sinatra lilt of “Why do you let me stay here.” Deschanel’s lovely vibrato comes to the fore in “Change is Hard,” which is wistful as well, but her grit helps reign in the song. Change is hard” fares better by pursuing a straightforward country route with lo-fi picking and steel guitar solos.

None of the songs on Volume One fail but a few falter a bit. “This is not a test” tries to merge 60s pop background with country vocals and ends up with awkward phrasing. The covers either don’t fit the mood of the album, like the slow, haunting, “You’ve really got a hold on me” or come off as cheesy when ensconced in country-pop aesthetics like the Beatles’ “I should have known better.”

At times Deschanel’s vocals are overwrought and the pacing feels a little too wistful, but overall She and Him’s Volume One is compelling because of its unique sound and Deschanel’s rich, textured voice. Despite some of the decidedly inane flourishes from mid-century popular music, Volume One retains a bright, warm sound absent from most contemporary records. And though the duo would certainly benefit from a more mature sound, their charm is undeniable.