Review Update: 03/07/06

The Academy Is… -- Almost Here
Amestory -- Self-Titled
The Aquabats! -- Charge!!
Bottom of the Hudson -- Holiday Machine
Capes – Hello
Captain Of Industry -- The Great Divide
Coffinberry -- From Now On Now
Crime In Stereo -- Fuel.Transit.Sleep
Damn These Monkey Hands -- Saddest Factory
Damn These Monkey Hands -- 1961: A Space Tragedy
Days Like These – Inventure
Depeche Mode -- Playing The Angel
Doomriders -- Black Thunder
Jason Dove – Pronto
Paul Duncan -- Be Careful What You Call Home
Hanin Elias -- Future Noir
Get Hustle -- Rollin In The Ruins
Ham1 -- Self-Titled
Head Wound City -- Self-titled EP
Honeyhander -- Wooly Mannerisms
The (International) Noise Conspiracy -- Armed Love
Mikki James -- Guess What…
Japanther -- Yer Living Grave
The Jonbenet -- The Plot Thickens
Koenjihyakkei -- Angherr Shisspa
The Looking -- Tin Can Head
Lying In States -- Wildfire On The Lake
Made In Mexico -- Zodiak Zoo
Moonlight Towers -- Like You Were Never There
Neon Blonde -- Chandeliers in the Savannah
A Northern Chorus -- Bitter Hands Resign
Panic! At The Disco -- A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out
Pelican -- The Fire In Our Throats Will Beckon The Thaw
Primes -- Self-Titled
XBXRX -- Sixth In Sixes
Xiu Xiu -- La Foret
Secret Annexe -- What Is It About This Place?
Shout Out Louds -- Howl Howl Gaff Gaff
(The Sounds Of) Kaleidoscope -- From Where You Were To How You Got There
Sun Kill Moon -- Tiny Cities
Wolf Parade -- Apologies To The Queen Mary
Stephen Yerkey -- metaneonatureboy

The Academy Is… -- Almost Here
Fueled By Ramen
Cute, overly-sensitive boys with impeccably messy “That 70’s” haircuts that sound just like every other group of tight-pants-wearing hair models you saw on the second stages at Warped Tour last year. Revisit Saves The Day’s Through Being Cool or Acceptance’s Phantoms if you’re really worried about missing something here. If you’ve still got $11 to $15 bucks burning a whole in your pocket, pick up far better records by their labelmates Days Away and Paramore instead.
-Tim Anderl

Amestory -- Self-Titled
Portia Records/Status Recordings
As a result of The Arcade Fire and the Decemberists becoming press darlings -- seemingly from no-where -- a lot of aspiring indie musicians and singer songwriters are waving the chamber pop flag these days. While their one sheet doesn’t expressly chime in on the success of those acts, it would lead you to believe that Amestory have crafted an album that is on par with Jeremy Enigk’s Return of the Frog Queen (which was a standout exercise in orchestral pop in its time), complete with lush and melancholy string and piano flourishes. Amestory want you to believe that they are a perfect balance of orchestral pop and indie know-how, but I’m not sure these guys are just there yet. While Amestory’s music isn’t hateful, the vocals aren’t particularly strong (they’re certainly no where near the unhinged falsetto howl of Enigk) and some of the arrangements are a bit piece-meal (particularly “North,” which sounds like three different ideas strung together linearly, but with no underlying connection). Another misstep is the punk cabaret piano play of “The Sea And The Sky,” which sounds like Militia Group’s The Lyndsay Diaries apeing Sub Pop’s Pleasure Forever (they’re about as compatible as oil and vinegar). The band redeems themselves a bit with the plucky “Perfect Blocks,” in which it does its best to conjure Elliott Smith, but there is not much else here that makes the hairs on my arms stand at attention while I’m typing this.
-Tim Anderl

The Aquabats! -- Charge!!
Nitro Records
One-fourth Devo-like 80s quirkiness, two-eights Meatloaf-circa-Rocky Horror campiness, four-sixteenths movie-like narratives, eight-thirtyseconds superhero costumes = all fun!!!
-Tim Anderl

Bottom of the Hudson -- Holiday Machine
Absolutely Kosher Records
Part My Bloody Valentine, part Guided By Voices, part Archers Of Loaf – either this is the 90s or I’ve found my new favorite band! BotH mastermind Eli Simon has crafted six-tracks of scrappy, mid-fi indie rock that remind you why you picked up that part time job in order to earn enough cash to purchase every last one of Bob Pollard’s side-projects. What Simon and his collaborators do with eight-tracks, most can’t do with eight times that. From this day forward, BotH can count me among their super fans.
-Tim Anderl

Capes -- Hello
Hard Soul Records
Apparently not all of the bands in South London have a sound that harkens to a bygone era once occupied by Wire and Gang Of Four….some of them prefer to find themselves paying homage to The Beach Boys and XTC simultaneously!?! I imagine these guys peacocking their way onto stage, old analog synths underarm, plugging in, and forcing a club full of fashionistas to unfold their arms and dance like the Peanuts on Vince Guaraldi. Yes, it is that cool.
-Tim Anderl

Captain Of Industry -- The Great Divide
Do Tell Records
While the “emo today, gone tomorrow” class of 2005 major label signees prepare for the most lackluster albums of their careers, Dayton’s unsung pop heroes, Captain of Industry, come out of the dugout swinging with a fantastic sophomore follow up to the shimmering pop goodness on !. And where is Grass Records when Dayton is beginning to have suitable exports again? Well Dayton-based Do Tell Records get the credit for running with this one. More importantly though, what does it sound like? Engineered by Patrick Himes, Joe Sammon, and the band themselves, COI are concentrating on increasingly obscure melodies here, fuzzy vocals, synth-sounding guitars, and Peter Hook-like basslines – think Space Hog doing Spoon, but with Beach Boys style harmonies (there are some great ones towards the end of “Go Gos”). For those of you favoring the COI’s more pure pop piano sound, as I do, several of the tracks (most noteably “Girl” and “Bugg”) harken to the band’s simpler ! sound. On “Bugg” Peters suggests, “People rock than people stop/In a minute’s time your record flops.” I can say with certainty that COI have nothing like that to worry about.
-Tim Anderl

Coffinberry -- From Now On Now
Morphius Records
From Now On Now’s opener, “Nightlife,” sounds like the Strokes delivering a surprisingly cohesive performance at the height of a days-long bender. Much of what you’ll here on this album follows suit. Being from Ohio, and having spent a hazy year following college stumbling from Cleveland bar to Cleveland pub to Cleveland tavern, I know just where these Cleveland-natives are coming from. Simply, Coffinberry seems to have trumped the New York chic on nailing down that modern rock by-way-of severe hang over sound. And between Coffinberry and Bob Pollard, I’m pretty confident Ohio could drink New York under the table.
-Tim Anderl

Crime In Stereo -- Fuel.Transit.Sleep
Nitro Records
If you don’t already have Hot Water Music’s early back catalogue or the last couple Propagandhi records you might find something here that will turn you on. That’s the best endorsement I can give the band if these three songs are the best they’ll have to offer on their upcoming full-length The Troubled Stateside (which will be released in early 2006). Otherwise, “been there, heard that.”
-Tim Anderl

Damn These Monkey Hands -- Saddest Factory
Space Chimp Records
Damn These Monkey Hands -- 1961: A Space Tragedy
Space Chimp Records
Monkey and man sit hand and hand in the evolutionary tree and the song that escapes from their primal souls is a Neurosis by-way-of Pink Floyd like dirge. Wait, it may be more of a creepy Black Flag meets PIL and Chameleons UK like hammer fuck. Though the band don’t have a singularly referential sound, perhaps five million years of evolution and a couple of big clumsy paws mean you don’t have to. At least that is the impression I’m getting from these technology poisoned, bass heavy, slope-browed, post-punks from Portland on the five-song Saddest Factory EP. Sadly my copy of 1961: A Space Tragedy came blank, that is with no music on it. It is a real shame too since the liner notes indicate that the concept is great – songs inspired by the real life events of Ham the space chimp. At least the stunning cover art by Vo McBurney (Ham the space chimp delivering Adam and Eve’s first fruity temptation) is in tact.
-Tim Anderl

Days Like These -- Inventure
Lobster Records
I’m not sure there are adequate words in the English language to describe how much I dislike this album. Days Like These are the nu emo movement’s answer to Bon Jovi only there’s no way vocalist Angel Santiago has a “Living On A Prayer” in him. The band makes just as many horrifying missteps. I actually cringed in pain at the terrible misuse of brass instruments on “Caution” and the wah wah pedal on “Generation RX.” Worse is “Justify,” which can best be described as the perfect soundtrack to the training montage in a straight-to-video karate action movie staring Patrick Swayze’s brother. If Days Like These were a parody band, I’d be singing their praises. Somebody buy them some cutoff muscle shirts and acid wash their jeans before these guys have to go back to the morning shift at Burger King.
-Tim Anderl

Depeche Mode -- Playing The Angel
Sire/Reprise/Mute
Long-time, and even casual Depeche Mode fans can take comfort in the fact that their latest outing is a departure from their last two somewhat underwhelming outings, Ultra and Exciter. Some are calling Playing The Angel a return to form -- a throw back to the band’s earlier outings – a return to the sound that endeared them to us in the 80s. As someone who still regularly listens to People Are People, Black Celebration, 101, Music For The Masses and Violator, I’ll concede to that. The lead single “Precious” sounds a lot like Violator’s “Policy of Truth,” “Macro” could’ve very easily been included with the gorgeous and dark collection of tracks on Black Celebration, and “Lilian” rings of Music For The Masses. Playing The Angel should not be sold-short though; there are still a few new tricks up the band’s sleeves. The scraping, industrial blare of early moments of “A Pain That I’m Used To” is a ball busting introduction to the new DM. In addition, for the first time in Depeche Mode history the band is allowing frontman/singer David Gahan to pen a few of the tracks, and “Nothing’s Impossible” shows the band reigniting their passion for unusual keyboard sounds and moody optimism. Depeche Mode fans take comfort, because with Playing The Angel, your favorite new wave band have earned their halos back.
-Tim Anderl

Doomriders -- Black Thunder
Deathwish Inc.
Bad ass name, bad ass album artwork (hooded skeleton with lightning bolts in his hands riding a fire breathing black Pegasus with red eyes), bad ass ex-members (Converge, Hallraker,, etc.), BAD ASS SOUND! Doomriders nod to Motorhead, Thin Lizzy, The Bronx, Samhain, and even Mastodon, more than a couple times during the course of this album. You may be wondering what a bunch of hardcore kids from Massachusetts know about stoner/bar metal, and my answer is “they know a whole hell of a lot son.” Recorded and produced by Kurt Ballou, Black Thunder is an album that should only be enjoyed at thunderclap-loud decibel levels.
-Tim Anderl

Jason Dove -- Pronto
Carbon & Monoxide
Jason Doves’ Pronto mixes smarmy 70s sleeze rock riffs with sophomoric humor (“Make It With You,” et. most of the rest of the record). Yeah, he’s got chops, as clearly evidenced on “Theme,” but so did the Datsuns and whose radar are they on now? I bet Doves’ friends appreciate the way he combines his sense of humor with his considerable musical talent. And I guess I ”get it,” I just don’t think “it” is all that funny.
-Tim Anderl

Paul Duncan -- Be Careful What You Call Home
Home-Tapes
I had this review written in my head before the record was finished. It was going to be something like, “Decent singer songwriter/multi-instrumentalist delivers Iron and Wine/Sufjan Stevens/Nick Drake-inspired fare that is adequate, but that also never really comes to a boil. “ But then a strange thing happened; track 11, “Content To Burn” started, the clouds parted and I started hearing Duncan’s own unique vision. I can already tell that this is going to be a slow burn, but if you can stick it out for repeated listens, you are in for a real treat. Though I still prefer the final three tracks, which offer Duncan’s distinct take on orchestral folk pop, the rest of the record is growing on me and will probably remain in steady rotation well into 2006.
-Tim Anderl

Hanin Elias -- Future Noir
Cochon Records
Just what the world needs, more music for 400-pound, 13-year-old girls who love Marilyn Manson and hate their parents. Don’t let me sell Hanin Elias short though, this may also appeal to 32-year-old Wiccans in leather pants who frequent their city’s “goth dance nights.” Oh yeah, and this removes all doubt as to who the brains behind Atari Teenage Riot – a band I enjoyed quite a bit. -- was Perhaps the industrial dance clubs in Germany will play this, but I’ll file this in the dust bunny graveyard under my bed next to the Machines of Loving Grace albums and other CDs I loved when I was a 200lb 13-year-old goth boy.
-Tim Anderl

Get Hustle -- Rollin In The Ruins
Three.One.G.
Welcome to the black magic cabaret. Your hostess, Valentine Falcon, is an unhinged weirdo whose illicit appetites have pushed her far past the boundaries of convention or sanity. The unholy racket exorcized by her co-hosts, drummer Maxamillion Avila and electric pianist Mac Mann, is surprisingly cogent in comparison to the vocals, although for three people who seem oblivious to each other the majority of the time they are in lock-step at the appropriate dramatic arcs. Vaudevillian voodoo soul trio Get Hustle freak me out man. They freak me out big time.
-Tim Anderl

Ham1 -- Self-Titled
Self-Released
Ham1 play goofy pop music that fans of Sebadoh, Pavement, and even Beck and Ween will probably relate to very well. I’m not sure what kind of market there is for this sort of stuff in the current quirky independent music market place, especially not with bizarros like Art Brut and Antony and The Johnsons out there. But it is fun, mid-tempo guitar rock that tickles your ears and leaves you with the warm and fuzzies. My favorite tracks here are “Pop Song For A Funeral,” instrumental “Alice’s Call,” and “Floorida” (though the lyrics remind me a little of Phish – I’ll forgive them though).
-Tim Anderl

Head Wound City -- Self-titled EP
Three.One.G
Between Neon Blonde and Head Wound City, 2005 is shaping up to be the year of the successful side-project. While Neon Blonde leans on the cabaret/experimental side of the punk spectrum, Head Wound City accomplishes just exactly what their moniker suggests – mind melting thrash. Though the band is comprised of members of Yeah Yeah Yeahs, The Locust, and The Blood Brothers, these dudes are obviously not content to rest on their laurels. They deliver seven tracks of downright pleasurable thrash punk in around 9 minutes (that is when you subtract the 40 or so seconds of feedback from the first track). As the opener’s title suggests, these are some “Radical Friends.”
-Tim Anderl

Honeyhander -- Wooly Mannerisms
Strictly Amateur Films
Combining new – and no-wave, industrial, and electronica with punk seems so early 2000s now. We’ve seen The Faint, The Cinema Eye, Lack, A Luna Red, Other Men My Age, A Trillion Barnacle Lapse, and Sunshine all do this, and do it pretty exceptionally, already. So what could Honeyhander possibly bring to the table? They may be guilty of coming into their own a little behind the pack, but Honeyhander have managed to take the industrial know how of a Skinny Puppy, given it just the right amount of pop polish (think the new romantic movement sound of a Depeche Mode or Duran Duran – example “Porcelain Veneers”), and do it up right. Though I’d prefer a little creativity and melody in the vocal area – they do that whole nasal punk snotty PIL-style vocal thing -- the band do what they do (however “last year’s model” it is) very well.
-Tim Anderl

The (International) Noise Conspiracy -- Armed Love
American.
Apparently anarchists need love too, and Armed Love, The (I)NC’s American debut finds these Swedish agitators doing it all for the nookie. While some of the revolutionary rhetoric that we’ve been accustomed to hearing from these guys is noticeably absent, I do get the feeling that Che Guevara’s girlfriend would’ve loved this record. I suspect she’d be especially fond of “The Way I Feel About You,” “Black Mask,” and “Armed Love,” which also happen to be my favorites. It’s as if these guys have finally figured out that all those “Days of War” are nothing without their corresponding “Nights of Love.” I happen to agree.
-Tim Anderl

Mikki James -- Guess What…
Xemu Records
Mikki James may be the consummate mover and shaker. Allegedly, Mikki James is a former roommate of one of the Strokes, was discovered by Lenny Kravitz’s cousin in the mid-90s while playing bass for RCA-signees Thin Lizard Dawn, toured as the bass player for Leonna Ness, and knows every celebrity in New York (he owns a night club, Movida, and counts Drew Barrymore and Jimmy Fallon among those he’s close to). These are just a few of the claims he made in an interview with Splendid Magazine (www.splendidmagazine.com) recently anyway. Frankly, all of this probably won’t add up to more than matter-of-factual hipster fodder to most of Bettawreckonize’s readership. But it does make for a good story, albeit one that usually ends in an over-produced record full of clichés that is criminally over-hyped. As it turns out James is also the exception to the rule. Guess What… is a fun, fist-pumper that will appeal to fans of T-Rex and the Clash, as well as newer chart-toppers like Beck, The Dead 60s and The Strokes. Apparent on title track “Guess What” and “You Can’t Fire Me” especially, James is delivering his brand of rock with a tongue-in-cheek, Andrew W.K.-like sense of humor. This is one to let into your heart folks, even if you have to share him with celebrity taste-makers.
-Tim Anderl

Japanther -- Yer Living Grave
MenLo Park Recordings
Japanther is awesome. And by awesome, I mean totally sweet. Facts about Japanather: 1) Japanther are mammals; 2) Japanather like to totally flip-out and rock people; 3)These lo-fi rockers deliver quirky 80s style art punk (think Minutemen, The Ramones, and Buzzcocks all mashed together) mixed with sound clips and other tweaked out sonic collages. I got so psyched up by some of the songs here that I accidentally kicked my dog in the neck. I love Japanther with every inch of my body (including my pee pee).
-Robert Hamburger
-Tim Anderl

The Jonbenet -- The Plot Thickens
Pluto Records
The Jonbenet take some serious cues from modern hardcore and screamo. Listen no further than the opening riff of “Eating Lightning Pt. 1” and you may hear a nod to Four Hundred Years, while in “Behold, The White Whore” the Blood Brothers’ vocal influence is loud and clear. What sets the band apart from the other bajillion hardcore and screamo bands out there apeing their favorite, more popular bands is that guitarist Dann Miller’s axemanship has a very recognizable southern rock flair to it. During the guitar solo in “Dramarama,” this phenomenon is particularly apparent. It’s as if Ted Nugent has stepped in to rip of the solo before the boys go back to their Mastodon-like rhythms and sassy vocal freakouts. There is definitely a Sabbath and Motorhead-inspired undercurrent in a lot of what’s heard here too. Composed from two earlier EPs, The Plot Thickens is an A-plus effort and a great introduction to these up-and-comers.
-Tim Anderl

Koenjihyakkei -- Angherr Shisspa
Skin Graft
I’m not even going to pretend like I’ve heard anything like this ever before in my life. Though it sort of defies classification, if I were to take a swing, I’d call this Japanese progressive choral jazz fusion. Drummer/vocalist Yoshida Tatsuya, who is also a player in Skin Graft’s Ruins, has assembled some extremely aerobic, albeit totally bizarre, musical muscle for this outing. Eight tracks, 50 minutes and 10 sends in length, I can’t help but feel like this is what the apocalypse must sound like; grandiose, strange, changing every few measures, and with plenty of oboes and opera singers.
-Tim Anderl

The Looking -- Tin Can Head
Astraea Records
Tin Can Head is an extremely pleasant surprise. Though the seamless pop musicianship here isn’t terribly distinctive (it meanders through territories already popularized by Keane and Coldplay), vocalist Todd Carter was blessed with a mid-range baritone warble with such a creamy, sweet intonation that he begins to bear a striking resemblance to Morrissey. What sets Carter apart from Morrisey is that his delivery is just a little unsettled, and frankly spooky (think Jamie Stewart of Xiu Xiu). Instrumentally, the band heats things up every once and a while (i.e. the guitar solo on the bridge of “I’m Your Labyrinth;” guitarist Jon Andrews borrows considerably from U2’s Edge circa Unforgettable Fire and Boy), but if they stand a chance in separating themselves from the current crop of indie rock bands treading these same waters, they’ll continue to capitalize on Carter’s considerable vocal strengths.
-Tim Anderl

Lying In States -- Wildfire On The Lake
Flameshovel Records
In the post millennium, the rock and roll landscape has become cluttered with guys with patchy beards feigning their country roots, and boys in tight pants and makeup finger farting their way around a Roland’s presets. Though there have been a few exceptions that have made their way into spotlight briefly (The Wrens for one), it happens far too infrequently. Chicago natives Lying In States deliver pretense-free post rock, but they’re still somehow able to capture an air of art and urgency without sounding like they’re trying. The vocals are delivered with a cool boozy rasp while the music burns a torche for the gutsy indie aggression of Fugazi and rock and roll appetite of The Replacements simultaneously. Recorded by Mike Lust (Tight Phantomz, Lustre King), Wildfire On The Lake, seems to have a contemporary in Constantines’ Shine A Light, and some of Pleasure Forever’s early material (when they were Slaves), but there are certain qualities that separate each of these records by a mile. Whether it is the wheeze of feedback, adding a bell or two to a track, or their lock step mathematic rhythms that loosen up at just the right time, Lying In States are their own unique animal, and one of the best rock bands I’ve heard all year.
-Tim Anderl

Made In Mexico -- Zodiak Zoo
Skin Graft
Whoa. Don’t be deceived by the picnic scene on the cover of this album. Rhythmically virtuosic, chaotically sludgy, warped and intense, it is hard to determine whether you’re listening to this album or being shoved through a meat-grinder. Vocalist Rebecca Mitchell’s spooky yawlping, which recalls both Katrina Ford (Lovelife, Birdland) and Cristina Martinez (Pussy Galore), perfectly mashes itself against the galloping rhythms and psyche freakouts of her instrumental counterparts (Jeff Schneider of La Machine and Arab on Radar, Jon Loper and Dare Matheson). Schneider’s dance-retarded, grunge jams are banged out on his Travis Bean aluminum guitar, which gives this album a sound which I’ve rarely heard before in the noise/psyche scenes. This record presents me with an interesting dichotomy, while I’m inclined to pledge my love, I have a strange feeling that what I’m hearing is capable of warping me in some unhealthy way. So I guess the bottom line is: listen at your own risk.
-Tim Anderl

Moonlight Towers -- Like You Were Never There
Spinster Records
The custom packaging for Austin, Texas bar-rock band Moonlight Towers is so professionally done, and well thought out, that I was immediately taken back by the hackneyed lyrics here. A sample from “Everybody Knows Why,” speaks grimace-inducing volumes. “Everytime I think about, the way it all turned out/I wish that I had changed your mind, to take another route/I would leave it all behind, but I just don’t know how/Everybody knows now that your heart was filled with doubt,” shows a songwriter who’s not working hard enough; unfortunately, the best packaging in the world can’t disguise lyrical clichés and shopworn material. I might forgive the band for their lyrical missteps and lukewarm rock arrangements if singer James Stevens didn’t sound like Bon Jovi in heat. Artistically, the packaging is probably distracting enough to get you to pull this from the bottom of a pile of CDs – I did anyway. Unfortunately, there’s not much here musically that will convince you to keep it in rotation.
-Tim Anderl

Neon Blonde -- Chandeliers in the Savannah
Dim Mak
Neon Blonde vocalist Johnny Whitney’s voice, both literally and figuratively speaking, is one of the more distinctive sounds in modern punk. And on Chandeliers in the Savannah, he’s put the two strips of flesh in the back of his throat to good use. This is perhaps the most accessible of Whitney’s outings, though accessible is a term that should be used extremely loosely when describing this young man’s output. It isn’t the Brainiac cum Jehu post hardcore fits we’re used to hearing from the Blood Brothers, nor is it the vaudeville post goth of a Soiled Doves or Vogue. Simply, this is a far more melodious outing than we’re used to from Whitney and collaborator (and fellow Blood Mark Gajadhar). Come for the rambling synthesizers that are appropriately perverted by electric drum beats and aggravated by a hair raising chipmunk bark, stay for the dance beats, swinging melodies, latin-flavored freakouts, and Freddy Mercury/David Bowie inspired glam rock panache. My favorites here combine instrumental psyche pop hooks, with the hysterics I’m used to hearing from these two (“New Detroit” and “Dead Mellotron” are perfect examples). Though I’ll probably get lambasted by my friends whose tastes veers into the far more experimental psyche pop and glam rock arenas, but this is one of the most creative and satisfying offerings I’ve heard in some time.
-Tim Anderl

A Northern Chorus -- Bitter Hands Resign
Sonic Unyon Recording Company
Underwhelming as a pop band, but spot-on as an over-the-top orchestral shoegazer band, A Northern Chorus are battling a troubling dichotomy for a band who should have their sound nailed down by album three. Lush and dramatic, the musical arrangements here are dreamy creations that billow, build, and peak at just the right times. Unfortunately, while vocalists Livingstone, Hall and McMaster’s voices aren’t hateful, their airy falsetto chiming isn’t adding anything here. In fact, were the music less interesting, the lack of hooks here would render the band frightfully boring. Further, there’s nothing that their voices add to the atmosphere that the band isn’t already delivering with their solid instrumental chops. As the band continues to develop and find itself, my hope is that it finds itself among others of the mostly instrumental shoegazing ilk (Explosions In The Sky, Sigur Ros, Godspeed You Black Emperor!).
-Tim Anderl

Panic! At The Disco -- A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out
Decaydance/Fueled By Ramen
It is really no surprise that P!ATD were the first band signed to Fall Out Boy Pete Wentz’s Decaydance label – vocalist Brendan Urie is the vocal doppelganger of Fall Out Boy’s own vocalist. Here in lies my first irritation with this record (I’ve got a few more, trust me, but let me see this one through). While most of the music here sounds like Depeche Mode as transcribed by Brand New (“Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off”) or The Faint as transcribed by Hot Hot Heat (“The Only Difference Between Martyrdom And Suicide Is Press Coverage”), I can’t get past the fact that the vocals sound over-emo-affected, and exactly like every other band out there copycatting bands from their shallow pool of musical heroes. That’s not to say there aren’t some catchy moments here. Both of the songs I mentioned earlier are catchy. Unfortunately, they’re delivered without much originality or emotion, which is ultimately going to keep me from being emotionally invested in these guys or this record at all. While the boys from P!ATD have delivered an album of cute and clichéd material that will get them a couple good support slots on a few buzz band tours (and, more likely, laid by a bunch of girls with hairdos and tattoos that are going to embarrass the shit out of them in two or three years), I can’t believe that any of these guys are that emotionally invested in what they’ve delivered here either.
-Tim Anderl

Pelican -- The Fire In Our Throats Will Beckon The Thaw
Hydrahead
I have to admit that this album was a slow burn for me. Having rushed out on my lunch hour the day of it’s release, not falling in love immediately was disappointing. Their earlier EPs, especially Australasia kept my undivided attention from beginning to end, and had me singing the band’s praises whenever given the opportunity (even to the drummer of another epic, mostly instrumental metal band with whom Pelican had bad blood while I was shit-canned on cheap beer). Sludgy rhythms, soaring arpeggios, feedback soaked space rock riffing (ala Hum) it seemed were Pelican’s bread and butter. That’s still here (i.e. 12-minute “March To The Sea”). But there are some detours I wasn’t prepared for too. The untitled fourth track is a nearly five minute jog around the fret board of a couple of acoustic guitars. For someone who normally prefers their head-banging constant and consistent, on initial listens I guess I lost my listening steam somewhere around this track in the middle of the record. Upon revisiting the album, I realize that the band was offering the listener a reprieve in the most tasteful way possible before pulling you back down a rabbit hole of murky feedback and muted kick drums and cymbals around the three minute mark on “Red Ran Amber.” Given the proper time for digestion, TFIOTWBTT, is every bit as masterful and well planned as the band’s previous outings -- they’ve just proven they can be careful and pensive, and still kick major ass. It is actually the perfect album for an uptight, neurotic worry wart who loves instrumental space metal (like me).
-Tim Anderl

Primes -- Self-Titled
Action Driver
The brainchild of Radio Berlin and A Luna Red’s Jack Duckworth (he also DJs as witnessed at the Bettawreckonize kickoff in 2001) and DJ Michelle Synnot, Primes is a bludgeoning death dance machine that isn’t easily squeezed into a single genre or category. Duckworth’s bass work, which alternates between thick syncopated rhythms and off-kilter scrapping suggests they may be a post-punk dance band (as witnessed in “The Night” and “Whatever It Takes”), the synth textures and beats suggest IDM or digital hardcore, and the his/hers vocals are something else altogether (perhaps industrial or goth). Their unique sound leaves the band with an interesting potential cross section of listeners. Fans of PiL, The VSS, KMFDM and Atari Teenage Riot will go bonkers for the haywire circuitry and bizarro dance groves here. I guess my only question would be whether a gloomy, dark dance record is the kind of thing that still turns people on. Then again there may be goth/industrial dance clubs all over the world that already have this in regular rotation.
-Tim Anderl

XBXRX -- Sixth In Sixes
Polyvinyl Records
Chaotic, frenzied and with serious teeth, Sixth in Sixes is exactly what a politically-charged thrash-dance record should be – a blood boiling, skull crushing combination of head stock-snapping three chord mash, shredded vocal chords, and Pangaea breaking, brain scrambling rhythms (would you expect any less from Weasel Walter). From what I’ve heard, the band is an enigma in the flesh too – live shows generally end in destroyed equipment, partial nudity and promoters that are either red faced or tickled pink. Fans of thrash fusion, rest assured; this is gonna translate to one hell of a four minute, costumed cluster fuck live.
-Tim Anderl

Xiu Xiu -- La Foret
5RC
Narcissism and sadism aren’t new to music, but Xiu Xiu’s Jamie Stewart has never made it sound less fun. At least the Robert Smiths before him delivered some veiled optimism, and you could dance to Ian Curtis. Stewart’s creaky baritone delivers the following “it’s impossible to just keep on living…don’t walk like my single hope” (opener “Clover”), “Jesus is wondering/if even he can love you/oh this is where I live/a pox upon your house” (“Pox”), “shut up shut up/is that your glass heart clinking?” (“Ale”). The musical arrangements are noisy, frantic and equally scary. The irony is that while La Foret made me want to put a bullet in my head, this album is going to make a lot of doe-eyed kids with dirty hair and tight pants very, very happy.
-Tim Anderl

Secret Annexe -- What Is It About This Place?
Ocelot Records
Secret Annexe is an ambitious indie pop sextet that (deliberately) finds their sound somewhere between The Arcade Fire, Lynyrd Skynyrd (just the opening riff of “A Way To Be Sure”), and Bright Eyes. I’m not convinced that they’ve got the same fire or unique songwriting flair as the bands they’re copycatting, but they seem to be giving it their best shot. I suspect that will be enough to earn them some regional attention. Should we expect Bowie to be joining them onstage any time soon? Not likely. I’ll blame some of it on the mix here, which leaves a lot to be desired – for example, the viola is way too loud throughout the record. So much so that the vocals are largely obscured by the strings. With a little keener ear for the mix and a little more elbow grease behind some of the bands rhythms, lyrics, and viola arrangements and perhaps Secret Annexe will emerge as music media darlings someday.
-Tim Anderl

Shout Out Louds -- Howl Howl Gaff Gaff
Capitol
Seasonal depression and divorce-related confusion biting at my heels, I’d found myself ingesting copious and unhealthy amounts of aural depressant concocted by two of this years’ most manic and gut-wrenching imports – The Arcade Fire and Bloc Party. Then came a Christmas miracle -- I stumbled across Stockholm’s Shout Out Louds, with their heart warming, energetic, and New York rock and roll leaning record Howl Howl Gaff Gaff. Charmingly optimistic, their huggable garage pop sound will probably earn them comparisons to The Cars, Lucksmiths, and The Modern Lovers, but one of their most inspired moments rings of U2 and The Strokes (“Very Loud”). The band reserves two of their punchiest efforts until the end of the record, sending the listener off on a high-point. God bless them (especially unbelievably attractive keyboardist/backing vocalist Bebban Stenborg) every one! On a side note, fans of this record should take note of Bettawreckonize Media’s own Southeast Engine (definitely RIYL Shout Out Louds and Wilco).
-Tim Anderl

(The Sounds Of) Kaleidoscope -- From Where You Were To How You Got There
Hackshop
TSO)K are psych-pop protagonists from the D.C. area who’s latest album delivers a combination of sweeping 90s era shoegazer guitar rock ear candy, 60s pop melodies, and Brit-pop nuances. “Oh My Mind” smells of patchouli, but smacks of alt. pop greatness. “Suite T” begins with a Byrds like jingle jangle jingle before plunging into a murky pool of My Bloody Valentine’s patented guitar fuzz. “Secret Service” and “Certain Colour Sky” hint of a Jesus and Mary Chain-like understanding of the fret board and deliver catchy 90s Brit-pop referential hooks. A couple of sociopathic outbursts by a frontman or some other marketable rock star antics on stage, and I predict that (TSO)K could find themselves competing with The Brian Jonestown Massacre for Pitchfork column inches.
-Tim Anderl

Sun Kill Moon -- Tiny Cities
Caldo Verde
More like Tiny Shit-ies.
-Tim Anderl

Wolf Parade -- Apologies To The Queen Mary
Sub Pop
Believe the hype. That’s not to say these Montreal-natives don’t owe a thing or two to contemporaries like Modest Mouse, The Arcade Fire and the Constantines, not to mention weirdo heroes like Bowie or Eno, but damn if these dudes aren’t totally solid in their own unique way. The sheer sincerity of the anthemic vocal sing-along on “Dear Sons And Daughters Of Hungry Gho….,” and the feedback freakout, and spazzy electronic keyboard melody during the closing breakdown of “Dinner Bells” gave me goose bumps. That’s not something that often happens to this cynical, jaded critic. So while I’m not surprised by what I’m hearing here per sé, the way the band is playing it makes it seem brand fucking new to me somehow.
-Tim Anderl

Stephen Yerkey -- metaneonatureboy
Echo/World’s Fair
Stephen Yerkey, whose picture appears in the liner notes of this album, looks like your dad. He wears light blue Dockers and light yellow collared shirts, his hair is graying and he has tinted glasses. But, proving that “you can’t judge a book by its cover” (nor an album by its terrible title), Yerkey proves to be a pretty kick ass songwriter. For example, each of the first three tracks is just a little different. “Songs Put Things” sounds like Les Claypool singing Peter Gabriel’s “Sledgehammer,” “Dark and Bloody Ground” is more Tom Waits vocals by-way-of Nick Drake presentation, and “Fall Out Of Love” is more of a light jazz number (think Randy Newman doing Ella Fitzgerald). This is the kind of album that could be played at a quiet social gathering with indie fashionistas or in your dad’s car on the way to a family dinner. I’d recommend this to fans of anything from Waits to Morphine (Morphine the band, see “My Baby Love The Western Violence,” the album’s fiery political diatribe).
-Tim Anderl