Best Albums of April 2010

Ready to sample the darker side of electronic music? Then prepare to have your ears gangbanged by 3 Dutch ruffians wearing headphones and wooden shoes. It’s not often that Drum n Bass producers release full length albums, and usually when they do it’s a sign they’re doing well. For those less familiar with the scene, producers usually flip 2- and 4-track vinyl EPs and deploy dubplates for immediate consumption in underground bass lairs. Noisia, however, has bulled their way to the forefront of the DnB scene, challenged in production fidelity perhaps only by the indomitable Spor. And I think, with this 19-track bombshell, they might deserve the highest distinction.

Split the Atom is absolutely loaded with big, bad dancefloor mutilators. While DnB outfits (2+ members) are less common than solo endeavors, Noisia defies convention and has managed to combine the unique strengths of each member to compose tracks that succeed in technical precision, aggressive aesthetics, and dancefloor-sensitive synth loops to add speckles of songiness to what is otherwise an assortment of sonic shrapnel. What most impressed us is how frequently the album forays into neighboring genres (with respect to drum’n'bass), including electro house, dubstep, and glitched up, sample-heavy hip hop beats. Even the DnB ranges from the winsome highs of High Contrast techno to stuttery, rude Tech Itch hardstep. Some tracks come in the standard bar sequence befitting club mixing, while others just bear their teeth for 60 seconds before passing control to the next track. Take it from a guy who spends a lot of time listening to this kind of music – Noisia’s Split the Atom marks a monumental release and raises the bar for producers across multiple electronic genres.

The album’s opening track, “Machine Gun”, is a 3-part medley that serves well as a microcosm for the album (try it below).

Epic without bombast and heavy without a single bar-chord riff… Its attack is syrupy and serpentine; subtle but frighteningly deliberate. is the way that Red Sparowes chooses to describe itself. Brasky chooses fewer words: FUCKING AWESOME. With the chunky title The Fear is Excruciating, But Therein Lies the Answer”, Los Angeles based experimental outfit Red Sparowes has crafted an album that should send instrumental pioneers like Explosions in the Sky back to the drawing board, searching for a response to having been one-upped once again. With extensive use of overdriven slide guitar and punishing build-ups, The Fear… is a vivid and emotional piece of organic rock whose long, developed pieces climb to dizzying heights, fall into sonic soup, and find a tenuous balance before reconstituting themselves into beautiful, sum-of-its-parts melodies that impress and amaze listen after listen. It is usually difficult to describe instrumental music, but the glut of terms that come to mind when describing this album are overwhelming. The fine line between chaos and structure is often blurred as vague, haunting tunes consume themselves without destroying the overall sonic vision of the track. It may not set any new standards for the genre, but Red Sparowes have set another stone in the growing tower of awesomeness that is post-rock.

The newest album for the gypsy rockers picks up right where Super Taranta! left off, combining unflagging 1-2 stomp beats, trilled R’s, hummingbird-speed guitar strumming, and the general sound of mayhem. This is pure fun: a get up off your ass, we don’t care if we rock your eyeballs out kind of record. In the quiet moments, you can almost hear the wave of chutzpah building up to sack you when the beat picks up again. All in all, this should sate fans of the group and new discoverers alike, and, as this writer hopes, should give System of a Down another reason to kill themselves. Let me explain that statement a little more. If you ever thought that System of a Down was any good, prepare to have your ENTIRE SHIT WRECKED by this album. This is pure Eastern European sass, with Celtic wantonness, Russian cynicism, and the ogre-like strength of the Austro-Hungarian empire wrapped into one fat pita. Though it may not be for those with heart conditions or epilepsy, Brasky certainly enjoyed Trans-Continental Hustle greatly.

MGMT is back. In case you didn’t hear, 2008′s Oracular Spectacular was outrageously successfully, earning the band a grammy – a feat nearly impossible for scrubby, indie rockers coming out of Brooklyn. If somehow you’re not sure if you’ve heard them, well.. trust me, at some point over the last 2 years any one of their 3 or 4 album hits came wafting by your ears at some point. Rumor has it that the city of Portland, Oregon recently repealed an act that stated that each resident shall listen to Oracular Spectacular no less than three times a week due to the proliferation of “relentless public whistling”.

Managed by industry titan Columbia, all eyes are on MGMT. Initially the band expressed interest in making their new album available for free digitally; not surprisingly, Columbia wasn’t keen on it. This was perhaps a premonition that MGMT wanted to pull back on the pop factor and get back to songwriting without expectations. The result is an album that doesn’t appear to wield mainstream potential. A number of tracks hint at a whimsical creative process, including a 12-minute song that wanders through multiple “movements”, another track that simply repeats itself while gaining elements until fading out, and a track that pokes fun at famous artist/musician Brian Eno. The essential sound remains unmistakably MGMT, full of nostalgia and warm ambience, but nothing quite as irresistible as Kids, Weekend Wars, Time to Pretend, etc. Columbia will certainly still hawk singles from the album, so be on the lookout. Overall, we enjoyed listening to the album, but we think MGMT would have to admit that Congratulations is merely par with respect to their (pop) potential.

Caribou, a.k.a., Dan Snaith, a.ka., Manitoba, has emerged from his secret music studio with yet another chin-stroking album. This is the part where we drop the obligatory “o shit did u know he has PhD in math?” The secret of his brilliance got out no later than 2007′s Andorra, a mellow, psychedelic grab bag of masterfully conceived “bedroom” rock. Swim takes a turn to more experimental and earthy sounds, more closely resembling the sounds of Snaith’s earlier work as Manitoba, with tracks building and decaying steadily and with more repetition, in general. But Swim is by no means a digression, as Snaith tests a variety of sounds and styles, including regular doses of scale-wandering vocals that call to mind fellow Canadians the Junior Boys. Swim is better appreciated by listeners who have experienced Snaith’s entire body of work, and may be challenging for listeners who jumped on board after Andorra. But we encourage everyone to give this album a thoughtful listen, because the album gains appeal as you settle into the proper listening mode. Caribou/Manitoba has a history of riding the leading edge of the indie undercurrent, and we’re pretty sure this album is no exception, even if we weren’t fully prepared for it.

Coheed and Cambria started out as a quirky prog-rock band from upstate New York, releasing their groundbreaking debut “The Second Stage Turbine Blade” in 2002 to little immediate fanfare. In 2010, the ‘Heed has become an all out Operatic Space Rock Mind-Kill, and if that sounds awesome, well, it is, kinda. And now the band is operating with drummer virtuoso Chris Pennie (Dillinger Escape Plan) in case they needed to add more complexity to their supremely polished studio tracks.

If you don’t know by now, the band’s oeuvre is an overarching storyline that centers around some tortured hero that apparently has some device inside of him that can alter time. I think. The point is, it is all somehow cohesive (lol), and this album, “Year of the Black Rainbow”, allegedly demystifies leftover uncertainties of the saga, billed as a prequel to the previous 4 albums. But for most who listen to Coheed, the storyline is not the main point of contention, but more so the resurrection of Rush-style musical progressions, the growl of Black-metal thickness, and a flair from the dramatic ripped straight from Medea. The unfortunate paradox of the album is that despite all of these aspects coming together in a glorious climax, the album is often unlistenable and unnoteworthy. The first half of the album is strong, focused, and mighty, while the second half blends into one sonic trainwreck that puzzles upon the first few listens. As is the case with many prog-rock groups, this one is mostly for the fans, and is not likely to bring in new believers. Without previous points of reference, this album may truly impress, but otherwise it’s “just another” C&C album–not necessarily a terrible thing.

The Get Up Kids understand the meaning of legacy. They know perfectly well that they are credited as one of the pioneering bands of the “emo” genre/movement. This distinction is a dubious one, and no one knows this better than the Get Up Kids, who in 2009 “apologized” for their role in the emergence of the pop punk scene. This affirmed what most of their fans already knew – The Get Up Kids took their craft seriously, coming to recognize the fine line between inspired songwriting and whiny, angsty alternative rock.

Flash forward to 2010. The band hasn’t produced a track in over 6 years, but decided to reunite and pump out a few tunes. A few months later comes Simple Science, a 4-track EP that had Brasky a little nervous. We like to consider the Get Up Kids one of the “good guys” of the emo era, pioneers of a sound that captured the collective sentiments of a generation of disillusioned young suburbanites. It seemed that Simple Science could only diminish that legacy in the way that Weezer’s last….3…4..(stopped counting).. albums did. THANKFULLY, Simple Science does not suck. There is something familiar and rewarding in hearing frontman Matt Pryor’s voice again, still giving away his diminutive stature, seeming to add credibility to the yearning his voice still carries years later. Each song is surprisingly unique, and mostly enjoyable to listen to. What’s refreshing is that the album is not trying to be anything, as far as we can tell… it’s just a collection of songs by a band that stayed faithful to its songwriting instinct. BONUS: We’re pretty sure we hear hints of the Reggie and the Full Effect sound, courtesy band member James Dewees. The EP isn’t dazzling, but good. We recommend giving it a listen, especially if you were a fan back in the day.

The Brasky team was a bit divided on this offering from androgenous female rocker Kaki King. With a reputation for some sly guitar skills, Kaki delivers some surprisingly conventional rock songs, channeling a mood befitting the late 90s more than the fun/dancy vs. emo dichotomy of post-2000 era rock music – though that aspect of Junior isn’t necessarily the surprising part. Kaki tests her vocal range a bit more on this album, but sometimes it feels like she’s singing a little more vigorously than her voice permits. There are some highlights though, like the powerful instrumental, “My Nerves Committed Suicide”, or the surprisingly punky/catchy “Death Head”, but the album suffers from discontinuity and mixed artistic feel. We still think Kaki is a threat with a guitar in her hands, but Junior was either overcontemplated or the work of too many people joining forces to influence the creative direction and/or production of an album.

Apples in Stereo? More like CRAPPLES in Stereo! Some of their songs are fun and Travellers in Space and Time is no exception. But: it’s really a little too fun, as though they just won a dare to create the funnest album ever–::cheer::. Travellers… sounds like what you’d get if They Might Be Giants invited a variety of iTunes indie bands to help them perform songs for Sesame Street. Pro tip: Play this album to help scatter infestations of friends that may be forming in your apartment. Note: “No Vacation” probably rips off the hook from Day Man from It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. But for giving us an excuse to link ASIP, we’ll add 42 bonus points to the album score.

Believe us when we say we’re qualified to review this album. In case you missed it, we just got done poring through the prolific Kitsuné armory in search of the best of the Kitsune Maison. We put the needle on this album with some excitement, freshly recalling the tracks that have helped make Kitsuné famous and forgetting about the scores of tracks that we instantly discarded during our comprehensive review. This compilation reminded us that the Kitsuné Maison series better serves teenaged girls in Europe than grumpy 20-something music nerds in the US (a.k.a. anywhere but France). Kitsuné Maison #9 takes the series in a disappointing direction, missing the thunderous dancefloor anthems we’d rather remember them for, and instead *selling* a dreadful collection of bands and songs that put the “pop” in electropop. A few thoughtfully composed songs from maybe-not-shitty bands (combined with our respect for the compilation series) slightly redeemed our overall score of the album, but we don’t recommend listening to this unless you like music made by people who want to be famous more than they want to be musicians.