Plants and Animals -- genus/species; kingdom/phylum, etc. etc.

If you’re a rock/indie group, and you want to get it across that your goal is a sound that’s organic, fleshed out, temperamental, unpredictable, even primordial -- a spontaneous dichotomy of mellow grandeur and raw ferocity -- I can think of no better descriptive than Plants and Animals. The static and the fleeting; the majestic and the brutally wild.

via magnetmagazine.com

They’re warbly. They’re gritty. They’re French Canadian -- and they’re an impressive example of what we don’t expect from the all too often (painfully) redundant indie rock genre. Truly, this is a group you’ll know you’re listening to when you hear them, and they’ve been laying the groundwork for all the charlatans since 2007.

The music is easy to follow -- it’s elegantly simplistic. It’s really feel-good and energetic, but poignant when it needs to be. Their 2008 album, Parc Avenue, conveys a collective, natural, zen-like experience -- it’s very inward and outward-turning at the same time. Meanwhile, the follow-up, La La Land, is mostly sultry and tropical (yes), with some kind of Honolulu-at-sunset vibe to it. Strange, yes, but quite fantastic. The band’s wiki page lists the members’ self-characterization as “post-classic rock,” but I think that’s too straightforward for what’s happening with Plants and Animals. It’s too neat and tidy, and they’re not.

via albumoftheyear.org

I highly recommend their latest, The End of That. Check out the track of the same name -- it’s a great example of where they’re coming from and where they’re headed. What do you think? Are they deserving of all this praise?

TCV -- I still haven't forgotten about them

I don’t think I’ve ever been as elated and heartbroken with the debut and subsequent reclusion of a musical group as that which I’ve experienced with Them Crooked Vultures.

via imgarcade.com

If you’re like me, you are very wary of anything that looks, acts, or remotely makes mention of a “supergroup.” But when you have the likes of Josh Homme, Dave Grohl, and John Paul Jones working together, what else can you call it? And, perhaps as a positive consequence of this mega supergroup (QOTSA, Foo Fighters, Led Zeppelin, respectively), such a formation brings together a rather interesting audience that otherwise might not have reason to interact. If you’re a fan of any of the above, you must check out TCV.  Really though, I wouldn’t approach this as a short-term supergroup, because they didn’t. This is a meaningful project -- for all members -- and one sample off their album will surely convince you how true that is.  

So, with Josh Homme having a large hand in this project, you’re gonna get the lovely, absurd, off-beat textures that you would from Queens -- and behind it all, you have a rhythm section that is simply unmatchable in terms of synergetic power, proficiency, and stylistic versatility. In other words, you have a songwriter capable of creating and working around crazy, outlandish patterns and themes in uncomfortable (but appropriate and wonderful) ways, and bass and drums capable of playing them. Add the auxiliary that they incorporate (keytar, lap-steel, to name a couple), and these songs represent very well what they aim to be: totally dynamic, at times unsettling, and all of them masterfully crafted.    

via flavorwire.com

And let’s not forget the most overlooked part of this group: Alain Johannes -- the fourth vulture. A critical if not necessary part of their studio and stage presence, Alain truly is a musician of the highest caliber. A big part of his exclusion from the trio in almost all other circumstances is probably due to the group’s marketing strategy, which underscores three, and not four, vultures.

Anything new that TCV potentially has on the table or ready to go at the moment has been suspended -- and understandably so; at least two of the members have other time-consuming projects that take precedent over any Vultures release. But I am patiently waiting for a second album, and I can’t possibly be alone.   

The album’s single, New Fang, is a great plug for the rest of the album, and exemplifies just about everything I’ve discussed. Give it a listen and tell me what you think!

via flickr.com

EE

keyword: earth engine; ee; alien rock; squirrel pit; squirrel pit studios; sts; broken robots; neoprog rock; progressive bots; prog pop; tectonic rocks; space volcanoes

Take a minute to think about what progressive rock means as a rock subgenre. Sidestep all of its over-usages, generalizations, and cliche taglines, and get right down to exactly what you like about it. Now, add to your refined and *highly* selective characterization of prog rock the qualities sharp, tight, amorphous, complex, sideways, ground-rattling, unified, popy, experimental, fuzzy, energetic, ambient, heavy, thick. This comes pretty close to Earth Engine’s sound, but it still fails as a completely satisfactory description.

Here’s the thing: “progressive rock” is such a boring, outdated term with lots of potentially inaccurate (and diminishing) connotations that, if not for its cachet in the music world, I would avoid using the term entirely to characterize Earth Engine. And what’s more, they’ve earned more than that. They’re genre-spanning eclectic Detroit musicians, all of them -- and that fact is wholly reflected in their music. There’s no doubt that what they are is progressive, and it is rock, but it is much, much more. There are elements of pop, rockabilly, and something beautifully sinister -- maybe something itself Detroit. Prog pop maybe? Neoprogressive? Who cares, just listen.  

The rhythm section is heavy, hard-hitting, and just downright dirty and obnoxious -- but it’s also finely tuned, elegant, and methodical, overlayed with brassy trombone flares, organ, and piano. The arrangements are astonishing -- and there’s really no mistaking this; the music is as precisely written and rehearsed as it is performed. Guitar is technically proficient (a must for “prog rock”), but direct and punctuated when it needs to be, supplementing -- and not overshadowing -- the rest of the ensemble. The vocals are an absolute perfect complement to the heavy, gritty, smooth syncopation of EE’s sound, and they just work so well with the lyrics. When it’s all happening, it has the feel of a progressive epic, but with the fine touch of brevity, deliberation, and expertise. Look, I think really highly of this group, but not without reason.       

via bensencore.com

I never miss an opportunity to see these guys play -- they perform all over Detroit and the metro area, and they’re adding more shows all the time. Most recently, they played the second annual Hamtramck Music Festival and utterly rocked the Polish Sea League (many thanks). Each performance also has a super special secret treat inside -- this past show’s set included a very Detroit cover of Kenny Rogers & the First Edition’s “Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In)” (see Gutterball), with a twist only Earth Engine could manage to crank. EP coming out soon! I have so much love for EE.

21st century psychedelia

What does it mean to be psychedelic in the 21st century?  Or maybe a better question is, what does it mean to be 21st century psychedelic?

via disenfranchisedfm.com

It's hard to say exactly what’s happening with Tame Impala -- something like really smooth, introspective melodies that I’m willing to bet closely mimic brain-wave activity. I’m actually hesitant to classify them under psychedelic rock, what with all the baggage (historical and otherwise) that term carries. I think a more appropriate term is cerebral. They produce cerebral music, both in lyrical content and instrumental effect.

However you’d like to think about their sound, you’ll certainly feel tripped out, even if you’re not sure how or why. It’s great lazy/chill music, but you’ll also find in it a type of vibrancy that is so outrageously beautiful, you’ll want to listen to them over and over again. Tune in on a summer evening, drink beer, let it play, fall asleep. Tame Impala.

via genius.com

So they only have two full studio albums out -- which is both kinda bad and also not such a big deal. Bad because they’re original and great and we all want more; not such a big deal because their music really doesn't ever get boring -- go through an album once and just replay it. That’s the beauty about music that has the potential to inspire other-worldly experiences. It just does not get old.

Why I really like one of Iron and Wine's songs

Because it’s so illuminating when I generalize over whole artists and/or albums, I thought I might treat everybody and use this post to focus on a specific track off a specific 2007 album that I think is particularly noteworthy. The track is “Carousel,” off of Iron and Wine’s The Shepherd’s Dog, and it is both just enough Iron and Wine to tolerate (while still maintaining that neo-folk rusticity that all the folkheads love)  and almost entirely unlike other tracks so as to be surprisingly refreshing.

Right about now, you might be objecting, “Hey! Iron and Wine is great!” And to that objection I say I will respectfully bite my tongue. Don’t mistake my ambivalence for ignorance -- I do recognize that there’s top-tier musicianship at work here. And while I can be swooned into heavenly twilight by some of these melodies as easily as the next, I feel that Beam recycles imagery so much (innocence, naked people, pastoral settings, rusticy things, etc.) that it just simply isn't effective anymore.

Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, we can get right down to it. Carousel is just an all-around fantastic song, start to finish. Here’s why: it’s nearly the perfect distribution of light and shade, both in terms of lyrical content and progression (and that always adds a level of texture to the song otherwise missing); back to its lyrical content -- the profundity of the themes explored in the song is understated enough to be both relatable and abstract (recipe for cerebral elation); and finally, it’s just one of those songs that has the potential to give you the “aha moment,” as only music, literature, and (perhaps) religion can do -- a moment of total euphoria and clarity, which is simultaneously transcendent and grounded in reality. Probably a feeling you’ll never forget if you’re lucky enough to experience it. And the beauty about music is that it’s the perfect trigger for nostalgia. Now, this may be good or bad, depending on your perspective, but my personal opinion is that it’s one of the most mysterious and powerfully overwhelming experiences an individual can have; a brief glimpse at the heart of life through the superficiality of the mundane.

So here’s to your “aha moment,” whenever and whyever that may be.

via albumoftheyear.org

Listen to White Denim. Now.

keyword: Austin, TX; 4-piece; denim, dungarees, sans color (i.e white)

It was only less than a year ago that I read White Denim’s name on a silly nonsensical list of bands that “probably wouldn't exist if not for Led Zeppelin" floating around the Internet (see link at bottom of page). No doubt Zeppelin influenced them all in one way or another, but why not “bands that independently are worthy of your investigation?” But hey, it got my attention. So maybe not such a bad editorial technique after all.

Ah, the staggeringly sweet, sweet sounds of White Denim. It isn’t very often one encounters a group of musicians who can trade off between each other rapid, seamless changes inflected at moments with furious intensity, and keep it lighthearted, graceful, and seemingly “easy.” But these guys do it so well. God damn, are they good. There’s so much happening in one song, it has the potential to come off as an absolute frenzy. Yet somehow it feels like one, unified statement; each part has its place. And when it’s finished, your instinct is to release a long, satisfied sigh.

 (via www.austinchronicle.com)

And if part of you wants to attribute this to “studio syndrome” (only good by virtue of studio clean-up and decoration -- I made up the term, bear with me), I can tell you that their live shows are bone-rattling. They are shockingly exhilarating, and be forewarned that you may at some point weep. I had the opportunity to see them in Ann Arbor, MI during one of their tours, and the hours spent listening to their discography paid off. Tremendously. Adding to my glowing review of the evening, James Petralli (lead singer/guitar) was an absolute delight, humoring me by answering my probing questions about mysterious song titles, lyrics etc., which, by the way, is probably never a good idea to ask about. But I had three beers in me and I was feeling cocky and confident.

Their latest, Corsicana Lemonade, is just as good an introduction as any. And by the end of the track of the same name, if you don’t already know the local geography and nomenclature of Texas, that giant fucking state, you will -- and what’s more, you’ll feel homesick for it. Sadly, I’m not sure what else to expect from White Denim at the moment -- James was *strategically* terse when I questioned about a follow-up album.

www.buzzfeed.com/spotify/bands-that-wouldnt-exist-without-led-zeppelin

The Bearded Ones

http://thebudosband.bandcamp.com/album/burnt-offering

I'll start with some kind of witty reference to the cover: Can you smell the ominous, heretical reek coming off this album? If anything, its title -- Burnt Offering -- gives you the sense that the group is intentionally trying to piss off some higher power by charring whatever offering they're putting up on the pyre. 

Does that work?

They are The Budos Band -- according to one band bio (last.fm), a derivative of los barbudos, Spanish for "the bearded ones." And so we have a killer album title, and an even better group name -- alone almost enough to pull me in.

If you shamefully judged the album by its cover (like me), not to worry. The content is sure to surpass your already-high expectations. Call it neo-funk fusion, Afro-funk, proto-Afro-funk rock jazz, or Afro-funk rock, their sound is an astounding mash-up of Ethiopian, funk, and jazz-influenced instrumentalism that is so full of energy, I'm certain you'll be caught off guard. I can only describe the sound as abrasive but smooth, full-bodied and organic, something like what the utter bliss of cosmic background noise would sound like if we could detect the wavelength directly with our ears, unadulterated and pure.

I'm waxing poetic, but this group really is quite unlike anything I've heard coming of age within the last decade or so -- mostly because they sound and feel like a group whose heyday was three decades earlier. But alas, they're out of NY, and they released their self-titled first album in 2005. I can't take credit for this discovery; a good friend of mine passed them along to me, and I've been obsessively listening ever since. Their most impressive quality -- and what I think truly makes them a superior group -- is that, according to the autobiography on their website (and the ethos of their label), they record only in analog, and in live takes. So if they are on point and really hitting it hard, you can actually feel it. And if someone misses a note, they'll leave it in -- so you'll feel that too. They're humanizing the music, and that makes it unique, organic -- they don't have to say they really care about what they're doing, because look at all the shit they go through to record an album.

I could write much more about them, but you'll just have to listen. This album is great, but they have a pretty extensive discography, all of which is in keeping with everything I've said here. If you start with Burnt Offering, I recommend "The Sticks." It's my favorite, and it'll give you an idea of just how good this band can be.