RIYL: The Beatles, The Strokes, The Kinks

The Brooklyn-by-way-of Madison quartet Locksley still holds a dubious honor in the Bullz-Eye/ESDMusic camp for the press release that announced the release of their debut album Don’t Make Me Wait. It was, without question, the worst press release we’ve ever seen, dismissing the entire Midwest as beer-drinking fatties with lousy taste. Here is the opening sentence. Try not to choke on the condescension:

Wisconsin is one of those Midwest states that we all assume is running rampant with overweight Miller High Life drinking blue collar boys at the Lambough Field.

We later learned that the person who wrote this is from, yep, Wisconsin. (To set the record straight, the band had nothing to do with the press release.) We’re pretty sure misspelling ‘Lambeau’ is punishable by death there, but we’ll have to get back to you on that.

At any rate, the press release did a terrible disservice to the band, as their debut was a smoking hot mixture of ’60s pop rock with modern-day attitude, and singer Jesse Laz can do spot-on impressions of both Lennon and McCartney. The band’s sophomore effort, Be in Love, is more of the same, and that’s perfectly fine. (You hear that, Vampire Weekend fans?) However, the songs don’t quite pop like the first batch did. There are some standout moments, notably the handclap-happy “It Isn’t Love” and surefire first single “Darling It’s True.” In the end, though, the Strokes comparison proves rather fitting, as Be in Love is their Room on Fire; it sounds just like the debut, only not as exciting. (Feature Records 2010)

Locksley MySpace page

RIYL: Buddy Guy, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Phish

The music gods have once again seen the time fit to bless us Earth-bound humans with some more musical treasure from the late 1960s, this time with 12 previously unreleased studio tracks (mostly from 1969) from the greatest guitarist of all time. They sound more like they were recorded in 2009, which is fitting since Jimi was way, way ahead of his time. Thanks go to Jimi’s timeless skills and mixing by the great Eddie Kramer, who engineered Jimi’s recordings back in the day.

The title track is obviously the centerpiece of the album, and for good reason. If one tried to imagine a lost track from the First Rays of the New Rising Sun sessions, this is exactly what you would hope for. It’s got the funky sound that Jimi was exploring more and more toward the end of his all-too-brief time here on this rock, along with the metaphysical vibe he was increasingly getting into, with lyrics referencing Atlantean love songs and impending Earth changes. It’s classic late-era Jimi – the louder you turn it up, the better it sounds. The song is sandwiched in between a smoking “Stone Freeâ€� and a cover of Elmore James’ “Bleeding Heart,â€� to open the album with three consecutive numbers featuring Billy Cox on bass, while the rest of the album has Noel Redding.

Jimi’s take on “Bleeding Heartâ€� is an up-tempo bluesy rocker that sets the stage for deep blues treasure on “Hear My Train a Comin’.â€� The latter is well-known by fans of Jimi’s highly influential Band of Gypsys project, with the Live at Fillmore East version being one of Jimi’s greatest performances. But it’s always nice to get another version of a seminal jam, and Jimi is clearly feeling it here. Clocking in at seven and a half minutes, it’s the second longest track on the album (only “Red Houseâ€� is longer), and it’s a showcase for all of Jimi’s skills with some nice scatting going on behind the first solo, and then some of his best wailing on the second solo.

The album also features two other premiere performances. “Ships Passing Through the Nightâ€� presents a mid-tempo tune about lonely ships hooking up and shaking the blues out of one’s hair. “Lullaby for the Summerâ€� features Jimi riffing out all over, with the trio shifting directions toward a more syncopated groove in the middle of the song. This makes Jimi’s hot licks stand out even more, demonstrating superb use of sonic spacing.

“Mr. Bad Luckâ€� is a funky blues workout from 1967, with Jimi clearly having been in a good mood during the recording. “Lover Manâ€� gets a similarly tasty workout, but it’s Cream’s “Sunshine of Your Loveâ€� that conjures the big jam. Several live versions have been released before, but this one is a keeper, with a nice breakdown in the middle that builds back up into a big crescendo.

Familiar classics “Fireâ€� and “Red Houseâ€� get fresh readings and Jimi’s playing is scintillating on each. “Red Houseâ€� gets the deluxe treatment with an extended jam taking the track past eight minutes as Jimi digs deep into the blues well. The album closes out with “Crying Blue Rain,â€� a tune that starts as a slow burner but picks up speed until it’s cruising over a galloping bass line. Jimi doesn’t go wild, but his rhythm playing is quite inventive, creating a superb collective groove that shows how to play for the song. He’s still the master.

RIYL: Blur, mid-period OMD, Saturday morning cartoons

Damon Albarn is surely still scratching his head over the fact that he had to hide behind a crudely drawn character in order to sell a million records in the US, while the humanoid version of Albarn remains a cult act, be it with Blur or the Good, the Bad & the Queen, his project with the Clash’s Paul Simonon. Give him credit, then, for not capitalizing on this loophole by turning the Gorillaz into a Hannah Montana-style media juggernaut, churning out an album, plush doll, video game and TV show every 18 months. God knows, it must have been tempting. Sell millions of records, or don’t sell millions of records? Credibility is nice, but as David Cross pointed out, those outside the industry are stingy about accepting it as collateral.

Indeed, it’s been five years since Albarn has donned the ink and paper, and if the Gorillaz’ new album Plastic Beach is any indication, the anger that fueled 2005’s Demon Days has subsided. Unfortunately, Albarn’s energy level seems to have subsided as well. The album doesn’t shift gears much, opting for mid-tempo grooves that you’d expect from a Jack Johnson or a G. Love. “On Melancholy Hill” sounds like OMD circa The Pacific Age. This is not your older brother’s Gorillaz, though that’s not entirely a bad thing. The album may be completely lacking in bottom end – you’d have to go back 30 years to find tinnier drum tracks – but Albarn is still good for one unforgettable single, in this case the “Safety Dance”-ish “Stylo,” featuring a passionate vocal from Bobby Womack. De La Soul return to guest on the cutesy “Superfast Jellyfish,” and “To Binge,” a perky duet with Little Dragon, is one of the best pop songs Albarn’s written in years. He gets a bit carried away with the guest performers, though. Did he need Mos Def and Bobby Womack and De La Soul and Mark E. Smith and Lou Reed and Snoop Dogg and Mick Jones and Paul Simonon? (And that’s not even all of the guest performers.) Albarn ultimately minimizes his contributions to his own album.

Perhaps the most perplexing aspect about Plastic Beach is its warmth, or lack thereof. This is one cold album, and perhaps that was Albarn’s point. If so, mission accomplished, but it could come at a huge price. His band is already artificial; when the music begins to feel the same way, discontent is sure to follow. There is much to admire about Plastic Beach, but it’s also one of the most emotionless albums you’ll hear this year. (Virgin 2010)

Gorillaz MySpace page
Click to buy Plastic Beach from Amazon

RIYL: The Wonder Stuff, The Verve, Pulp

We love when good things happen to good bands. The Hours quietly released one of 2009’s finest albums with the sky-high See the Light, and someone at Nike clearly took notice, because the band’s 2006 single “Ali in the Jungle” just scored the company’s recent “human chain” ad, which ran roughly one kajillion times during the Winter Olympics. The song is a killer, with one of those instantly memorable choruses that will serve as the soundtrack for sports montages for generations to come. “Everybody gets knocked down / How quick are you gonna get up?” challenges singer Antony Genn in his Miles Hunt-like tenor, complemented by a punchy piano riff. The EP is short, a mere four tracks – and one of those tracks is an orchestral version of the title track – hence the mere three-and-a-half-star rating, but perhaps they are planning a more proper US release for See the Light later in the year (one song from the album, “These Days,” can be found here), after its brief availability as a download last year. One can only hope, anyway. British pop fans, get this while the getting is good. (Hickory Records 2010)

The Hours MySpace page
Click to buy Ali in the Jungle from Amazon

RIYL: Pat McGee Band, Collective Soul, Sister Hazel

Benjy Davis Project is the quintessential college band: they have a jangly jam band sound, but don’t jam a lot. Rather, front man Davis writes upbeat, melodic songs that are perfect for tapping your foot, singing along, and of course, drinking beer and partying to. BDP’s new album, their fourth, Lost Souls Like Us, is hip enough to appeal to the college frat crowd, yet has two features that make it attractive to the AAA market: Davis’ appealing tenor (which sounds a lot like Mat Kearney), and also his some lyrical depth. Witness this snippet from the opening track, “Mississippiâ€�: “I think you’re really pretty / And that’s all I wanna say / Did you miss me/Did you miss me Mississippi / Would you kiss me if I stayed?â€� Of course, you can’t not appeal to the college crowd with catchy anthems like “Get High.â€� But Davis and company aren’t content to give you a few good songs. Sure, Lost Souls Like Us has a lot of sameness about it, but it’s a good sameness. In addition to the tracks already mentioned, other standouts are the G. Love-ish “Send Your Love Downâ€� and “Light of Other Days,â€� which uses some super-cool, crunchy ‘80’s guitar tones and has some of the best harmonies on the record. If you like to have a good time, and like Southern-tinged party rock, you owe it to yourself to get familiar with Benjy Davis Project. (Rock Ridge Music 2010)

Benjy Davis Project MySpace Page

RIYL: Danger Mouse, The Shins, Beck

The latest collaborative project involving the seemingly indefatigable Danger Mouse (billed here under the name his mama gave him, Brian Burton), Broken Bells presents the music press with its first opportunity for hype overload in 2010. One half of Gnarls Barkley teaming up with Shins guitarist and singer James Mercer? Are you kidding? This album doesn’t have a prayer of being reviewed objectively – which is probably why Burton and Mercer kept Broken Bells under wraps until late last year, when they digitally released the album’s first single, “The High Road,� to thunderous online applause.

The full-length is finally here, and here’s the bad news: None of it’s as deliciously addictive as “The High Road.� On paper, Broken Bells looks like the type of album that’s so cracked it either has to be terrific or abysmal, but in reality, it’s just sort of a pleasant listen – which is ultimately disappointing, because if nothing else, you expect to be provoked by any project that places its creative principals in unfamiliar surroundings.

Broken Bells, though, keeps the listener at arm’s length; like a lot of Burton’s work, there’s a coolness about it that starts to feel pretty chilly after a while. The production is undeniably interesting – this is definitely a headphones record – but all the swirling, blooping synths, distortion effects, and layers of ghostly sound can’t obscure the album’s lack of an emotional center. This probably sounds harsher than Bells deserves – it isn’t a bad album at all – but with this much talent in the studio, who wants to award partial credit?

Listening to Bells’ third track, “Your Head Is on Fire,� you’re struck by the beautiful emptiness of it all – spectral vocals floating between stacks of synths and subtle guitars, with Beach Boys harmonies unspooling around sonar sound effects. Problem is, that’s the record in a three-minute nutshell: Sweet pop melodies and a musically adventurous spirit, drowned mercilessly in a sea of frictionless sound. Broken Bells is a pretty enough place to visit, but don’t plan on staying long – or if you do, bring your warmest winter coat. (Sony 2010)

Broken Bells MySpace page

RIYL: Paul Simon, your Brazilian grandfather’s record collection

When Josh Rouse moved to Spain a few years ago, nobody really expected things to change with regard to his music career. After all, there are many jobs that can be done from anywhere these days, with touring recording artist being one of them. But along the way, Rouse met and married a Spanish woman, singer Paz Suay, and along with learning to speak Spanish fluently, he also began writing songs in his new home’s language. That’s all well and good, but on his latest, El Turista, Rouse took things a step further by incorporating Brazilian and even Afro-Cuban flavors to the music, including a couple of covers. The entire set also reflects Rouse’s desire to lean toward jazz, without becoming a full-on jazz artist. The result? A mediocre experiment.

There is nothing wrong with trying new things, but the problem with Rouse’s recent musical offerings are that he’s been writing too much – causing his songs to become diluted, at least compared to the stuff he was making in his hometown of Nebraska and in Nashville. It’s not just that, but Rouse is better at the alt-pop thing than he is at the Bossa Nova sound he’s aspiring to, and El Turista is, well, it’s sleep-inducing. That said, dude still has a super smooth voice. The best track on here is the English-speaking “Lemon Tree,� and if you’re in the mood to drink a pina colada and start a conga line, put on the festive “Valencia.� However, if you were/are a fan of Rouse’s earlier material, you may want to run the other way before giving El Turista a listen. (Bedroom Classics/Nettwerk 2010)

Josh Rouse MySpace Page

RIYL: Aimee Mann, Anya Marina, Ben Folds

It takes real talent to create music that is hip, yet melodic; accessible, yet not forced; and catchy yet not catchy to the point that you don’t want to listen after five spins. Piano songstress Beth Thornley has done this on her third album, Wash U Clean, a bouncy collection of pop tunes that are as infectious as any piano-driven ditties you’ve ever heard. Thornley herself is apparently amazed at the variation between the artists she is compared to, but that’s because that variation is genuinely as wide as the Grand Canyon – even from track to track. That’s just one of the many reasons to like this terrific set of music, and it’s a bonus that you’ll feel as cool as some hipster blogger while listening to it. The title track features a horn riff that will remind you of the synthesizer in Gary Numan’s “Cars,â€� but the soaring chorus is like one of those long-lasting wads of bubble gum. From there, Thornley weaves in and out from Ben Folds-like anthem (“Still Can’t Hideâ€� and “It’s Meâ€�) to the Aimee Mann-ish “There’s No Wayâ€� to the best track of all, the stunning ballad “What the Heart Wantsâ€� – the musical version of a lazy Saturday afternoon. Beth Thornley has really delivered a beauty with Wash U Clean, and you’ll be hard pressed to find a bad song on it. (Stiff Hips 2010)

Beth Thornley MySpace Page

RIYL: Brian Eno, David Byrne, Harold Budd

On paper, covers projects don’t get much more intriguingly wacky than this: Scratch My Back finds the ever-restless Peter Gabriel covering 12 songs by other artists, to be followed with I’ll Scratch Yours, in which those same artists cover Gabriel’s catalog. Oh, and since it’s never a Peter Gabriel album without some kind of twist, he decided to record his end of the bargain with an orchestra. And did we mention the artists he covered? David Bowie, Paul Simon, Bon Iver, Talking Heads, Lou Reed, Arcade Fire, Randy Newman, Neil Young, and Radiohead are only some of the famous (and mostly très hip) names who get scratched here – if ever there was an album that had a snowball’s chance of uniting the Pitchfork and Goldmine crowds, this is it.

On paper, anyway. In reality, Scratch My Back never comes anywhere near the zany generational/stylistic mash-up its concept suggests; in fact, it might end up being one of the more wildly divisive recordings of Gabriel’s long, proudly obstinate career.

How the album hits you will have a lot to do with what you expect. Given his track record, you might think Gabriel would use the orchestral setting to explore the expanded dynamic possibilities of the music by tinkering with polyrhythms and layers – just imagine what a healthy-sized string section could do with Simon’s “The Boy in the Bubble� – but that isn’t the case. Really, aside from a few outbursts, this is a pretty sedate album; Gabriel’s overall approach is pretty well summed up with his morose, sleepy take on “Bubble,� which at least shows up early enough in the track listing to give you a hint of what’s to come.

So it isn’t everything it could have been, and may strike some listeners as something of a disappointment at first, but don’t be quick to dismiss Scratch My Back: Like most Gabriel records – especially his recent efforts – it’s a grower. Most covers albums are an opportunity for the artist to let loose and have a little fun with songs they love, and to try and add their own voice to someone else’s refrain. But not Gabriel – even at his commercial peak, he was an insular artist, and here, he mostly sounds like he’s running through some old favorites for his own benefit. The result is an album that opens slowly: With the exception of the slow-building “My Body Is a Cage� and his take on Regina Spektor’s “Après moi,� which comes barreling out of the gates, much of Scratch initially comes across as a bit of a beautiful snooze. Be patient, though, and Gabriel rewards you with a work of tender intimacy – and he makes Lou Reed and Neil Young sound positively tuneful in the bargain: His covers of “The Power of the Heart� and “Philadelphia� are two of the album’s highlights. In today’s heavily compressed sonic landscape, Scratch My Back may register as little more than an echo at first, but it’s rare we get to hear music with this kind of simple focus, or stark beauty. If it’s still hard not to wish Gabriel had wandered a little further afield with his interpretations, well, we still have I’ll Scratch Yours to hope for. (Real World 2010)

Peter Gabriel MySpace page

I learned how to beat mix in 1987. Back then, everyone was using Technics 1200s (the first CD players with pitch bend came the following year), and any effects you wanted to add – which basically came down to two things, phasing and back-beating – had to be done manually with the records themselves. No Pro Tools, no effects processing, no digital anything. Mix tapes were done in one take; I’d plot out each side in advance, press record, and hope for the best. I averaged roughly 3.5 train wrecks per mix tape.

In 2000, I finally upgraded from vinyl to CD. Denon made, and still makes, fantastic DJ equipment for use with CDs, so I bought that, a Numark mixing board, and a cabinet. But making mix tapes was still a pain, the old one-take scenario, and transferring them to digital form was worse. Roxio – which back then was called Adaptec – had a program that could transfer analog sources to digital format if you had the right equipment, but the signal loss was incredible. Once you amplified it to a reasonable level, the tape hiss was unbearable. Eventually, I stopped making mixes, though that had as much to do with a more demanding job and family life as it did with the archaic process of making the tape itself.

Needless to say, when the email promoting MixMeister Express landed in my inbox, they had my attention. The program’s layout is similar to the loop-based remix software Acid, another toy I played with a lot back when I had more time on my hands. And the way MixMeister analyzes songs and plots transitions from one song to the next is, well, ridiculously smart. In a matter of hours, I had assembled an 80-minute mix, and not a single train wreck in sight.