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The Trashcan Sinatras: In the Music


RIYL: Aztec Camera, Prefab Sprout, Magnetic Fields

By all rights, the Trashcan Sinatras should have broken up years ago. Only one of their five albums was met with good timing, and that was their 1990 debut Cake. From there, they have suffered a relentless tide of apathy, both from the public (their album I’ve Seen Everything landed while grunge was in full swing) and even label bosses (Go! Discs didn’t bother releasing 1996’s A Happy Pocket in the States). But Kilmarnock’s finest have soldiered on, staring down bankruptcy and the inevitable pressures of family life to do what they love. And for that, they have attracted one of the most loyal fan bases any band has ever known. As our Popdose colleague John Hughes once wryly observed, there is no such thing as a casual fan of the Trashcan Sinatras.

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Even their most recent album, In the Music, has its share of melodrama. The album was originally supposed to come out last fall, but the distribution deal fell through just as they were embarking on their first US tour in five years. But the album is finally out, and in fact its release snuck up on us, which doesn’t bode well for the promotional efforts being done on its behalf. (Seriously, we get close to 50 music press releases a day, but no one’s working the Trashcan Sinatras?) Looks like, as guitarist Paul Livingston pointed out in an interview last summer, that they’ll be selling their records to the same people once again.

Pity, because they’ve just made another gem. In the Music is similar in tone to the band’s 2004 album Weightlifting, in that both are quite mannered in comparison to their earlier work (which in itself was not exactly raucous to begin with). Fans of the “How Can I Apply…” mode of the band’s work will find much to love here, particularly “Easy on the Eye” and “Oranges & Apples,” the band’s tribute to Syd Barrett and their first song to top the seven-minute mark. They even got Carly Simon to sing on the ballad “Should I Pray.” The most rocking moment here is “Prisons,” which is chock full of the vintage Trashcans jangly guitar riffs, and “Morning Star” sports the most widescreen chorus the band’s written in years.

If the album is missing anything – besides promotional support, that is – it’s a few shifts in tempo. Yes, it’s all gorgeous, but anyone longing for a “Bloodrush” or “Welcome Back,” or even another “Hayfever,” will be left wanting. In other words, as much as the band wants people outside of their existing fan base to buy their albums, In the Music is probably not going to do the trick. It’s perfectly lovely, but it’s also preaching to the converted. Still, better that than not preaching at all. (Lo-Five Records 2010)

Trashcan Sinatras MySpace page
Click to buy In the Music from Amazon

Marina and the Diamonds: The Family Jewels


RIYL: Kate Bush, Dresden Dolls, Regina Spektor

Blending Kate Bush dolphin cries with stomping drum machines and buzzing, ‘80s-kissed synths, Marina and the Diamonds join La Roux on the list of British exports hoping to turn UK buzz and new wave nostalgia into American gold. Marina sounds fashionably ambivalent about crossing the pond, and fame in general – check out “Hollywood” for the latest in Top 40-ready tabloid-razzing pop – but beneath all her quirky affectations, she’s careful to pile up tall stacks of indelible, hip-shaking hooks.

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The result is a record that’s certainly enjoyable in its own melodramatic way, but one that’s also hard to love. It has the uniquely British chill of arty singer/songwriters like Kate Bush, but The Family Jewels lacks the depth to live up to those comparisons on more than a superficial level – it’s like an art rock record that wants to trick you into dancing. Or a dance record that wants to pretend it’s an art rock album. Either way, a little of this stuff goes a long way; after the umpteenth hiccupping cry and dog-whistle harmony, it’s hard not to wish you could reach through the speakers and make her stop trying so hard.

The shame of it all is that The Family Jewels includes the ingredients of what might have been a really addictive album – tracks like the tongue-in-cheek “Hollywood” and the moving-in-spite-of-itself “I Am Not a Robot” prove Marina understands the mechanics of pop melody. Everything else is just a gimmick – and while gimmicks sometimes help sell records, they’ve also been known to backfire. For once, less polished Jewels might have made a better first impression. (Atlantic/Chop Shop 2010)

Marina and the Diamonds MySpace page

Lisa Papineau: Red Trees


RIYL: Air, Forget Cassettes, Zero 7

Singer/songwriter and electronic princess Lisa Papineau is back with Red Trees, the follow up to her critically acclaimed solo debut, 2006’s Night Moves. And while it’s hard to fault someone for being more experimental, as is the case on Red Trees from previous work (she’s worked with Air and M83 as well as with soundtrack composer Tyler Bates), it’s more difficult to full enjoy something when it’s lacking significantly in melody. That said, there is something eerily intoxicating about Miss Papineau’s music. It’s somber and moody and uplifting all at the same time, and a full set of her music packs quite a few surprises. And of course, her voice is intoxicating all by itself. One of the more melodic songs that stands out here is “White Leather Pants,” and there is an underlying lyrical theme that reflects Papineau’s move to France and the communication gap that ensued – such as on “Sorry I Cannot English.” But she also shines brilliantly on instrumental tracks like “Touch Time Out,” which has a freakishly haunting 30 seconds of climax. This album and Papineau’s music in general aren’t going to be universally loved, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t catered to both current fans and those who seek something different in their music on Red Trees. (Sargent House 2010)

Lisa Papineau MySpace Page

Me, Myself, and iPod 5/19/10: Arson never sounded so catchy

esd ipod

All right, time to get back to pimping tunes I like, rather than making examples of fame whores. And this first one still has me dancing.

School of Seven Bells – Babelonia
I could listen to this one all day. Hypnotic, My Bloody Valentine-inspired dream pop, with a gorgeous female voice in the lead? Can’t wait to hear the full-length, due in July.

Futurebirds – Johnny Utah
Hey, they named a song after Keanu Reeves’ character in “Point Break.” What’s not to love?

Admiral Radley – I Heart California
I always thought Grandaddy was slightly overrated, but this project, which features main Grandaddy Jason Lytle with members of Earlimart, is off to a good start.

Awolnation – Burn It Down
Little Richard fronting Cash Cash? Whatever it is, it’s what I wish the Eagles of Death Metal sounded like, and where I wish more new bands would draw inspiration.

Gordon Voidwell – Ivy League Circus
Pretty damn funky for a guy named Gordon.

Parallels – Find the Fire
Hey, every generation needs its Quarterflash, right? Or is it Animotion?

Pete Francis – Glue
I don’t know anything about Mr. Francis, but this song reminds me that I need to pull out Gus Black’s Word of Mouth Parade and give it a spin.

Quintessential Songs of the ’00s: #3 “Float On”

It wasn’t until Modest Mouse’s fourth album (Good News for People Who Love Bad News) that lead singer Isaac Brock figured out how to fully combine his pensive lyrics, warbled vocals and catchy hooks into one beautiful mess of positivity. “Float On” is the album’s signature song and it was a big departure from the band’s previous work. From the song’s wiki page, Brock had this to say:

“It was a completely conscious thing. I was just kind of fed up with how bad shit had been going, and how dark everything was, with bad news coming from everywhere. Our president is just a fucking daily dose of bad news! Then you’ve got the well-intentioned scientists telling us that everything is fucked. I just want to feel good for a day.”

And we’re lucky he did.

More Quintessential Songs of the ’00s.

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