Elvis Perkins

nesday

XL Recordings

originally published April 18, 2007

It’s impossible to listen to Elvis Perkins’ Ash Wednesday without feeling moved by his life’s circumstances. He is the son of actor Anthony Perkins, who died from an AIDS-related illness in 1992. His mother, photographer Berry Berenson, was a passenger on one of the planes that was flown into the World Trade Center during the 9/11 attacks.

Knowing that these monumentally sad events inform Perkins’ songwriting gives Ash Wednesday a weightiness that transcends the typically ostentatious fodder of the singer-songwriter set. Here a seemingly middle-of-the-road chorus of la la la’s in “May Day!” becomes something powerful and cathartic. Flowing violin arrangements in “Emile’s Viet Nam in the Sky” and wilting piano melodies in “Good Friday” are striking on a level that normal pop obsession only mimics.

Of course this is in no way spelled out. It’s an issue only because virtually every review the album receives will make note of the tragedies in Perkins’ life that preceded the album.

Rather, he treats real-life lyricism with a Dylan-esque sense of poetry and symbolism. Everything is there if you look for it. The fact that Perkins has crafted a collection of songs that are cut from such solid arrangements and such a strong voice that shows no sign of wavering confidence, suggests so much about his sense of character. He’s a guy who’s firing on all four cylinders and better grounded than most folks if they were to find themselves in his shoes.

Chad Radford

Elvis Perkins is playing at the 40 Watt Club on Thursday, Apr. 19.

Deerhunter

Fluorescent Grey

Kranky

originally published April 18, 2007

Yep, them again. Whether this is good news or bad depends on whether hype annoys you. In the case of Atlanta it-band Deerhunter, I firmly opt for the former. This review could consist of the sentence fragment "Four songs recorded while the band mixed Cryptograms" and those in the know would buy it. "In the know" is a slight, in a small way, because nowadays whatever Pitchforkmedia.com says about a band becomes the gospel truth. And Pitchfork loves Deerhunter. But I also use "in the know" in a more straightforward manner, because Deerhunter has shocked even its hometown by suddenly turning into a genuinely awesome monster of a band. I know I, for one, got blindsided by Cryptograms.

So Fluorescent Grey is a small document, to be sure. It shouldn't be heard as a new direction, so it works doubly well by being released so close on the heels of Cryptograms. This way Kranky can capitalize, and fans can view the EP as a postscript tacked onto the full-length. (For this reason, the label is releasing a combination of the two on beautiful double-vinyl.)

So is it good? Oh yes, very. Better than Cryptograms? No. But that's irrelevant. "Like New" could more than any other track here fit snugly on the album with its gently chugging rhythm and simple chiming guitars. The standout, though, is that Bradford Cox is becoming so comfortable with his voice. He can croon now! The title track is more understated brilliance, bringing together so many influences and sounding not quite like any of them. If the Liars made music to make out to, you might have these four tracks. Most importantly, this is sweet and discordant pop music, and that the band can combine those two adjectives so well and still have enough oomph left to have a sweaty threesome with ambient music is remarkable. We should all be proud of these five guys. Georgia's music scene can only benefit from Deerhunter's coattails.

Michael Wehunt

Times New Viking

Present the Paisley Reich

Siltbreeze

originally published April 18, 2007

With Present the Paisley Reich, Times New Viking, America's finest band with a font-based pun for a name, returns with its second excellent record in about as many years. These kids out of Columbus tap into Ohio's great tradition of weird noisy punk rock awesomeness (think Ron House, Guided By Voices, Electric Eels, etc.), and weld it to a faux-retardo aesthetic slightly similar to turn-of-the-century Providence bands like Pink & Brown and Lightning Bolt. The band's dinky keyboards, in particular, make me think of the long-forgotten yet amazing Providence group Gerty Farish, which specialized in hyperactive, minute-long bursts of hardcorish nonsense. If Gerty Farish slowed down and wrote catchier songs, it probably would've sounded like Times New Viking.

Let me clarify that "faux-retardo" biz; I don't want you getting the wrong idea, as TNV is comprised of clearly intelligent folks. Despite the bad puns and atrocious production value, there's a hell of a lot of brilliance here. The band's overbearingly fuzzed-out pop-rock is ridiculously catchy; almost every song would be a hit in a parallel universe where the Swell Maps are as revered as the Beatles. On most songs, the singing consists of a guy and a girl fighting over who can shout the loudest, and in turn impelling the listener to shout along. And the lyrics, when discernible, are often funny and clever and full of the stuff that makes rock and roll good, like boredom and booze and sex and death, etc. This band definitely thinks things through.

Not to belabor the GBV comparison, but it really is quite fitting. Sure, Times New Viking has just a bit more of a snotty punk edge to its sounds, is noisier and has even lower production values than early Guided By Voices. Still, the band cranks out hit after hit over Present the Paisley Reich's 28 minutes. "Teenage Lust!" is a true anthem, and almost as good as anything Bob Pollard ever wrote. I almost hate this song, it's so damn catchy. Its chorus of "I don't want to die in the city alone" has been stuck in my head for weeks now. I almost do want to die just so I can stop thinking about it. And it may not even be the best song on the record! Jesus Christ.

Garrett Martin

Schneider TM

Skoda Mluvit

City Slang

originally published April 18, 2007

Now that all the other IDM movers and shakers have dollar signs in their eyes, it's time to pause and offer Dirk Dresselhaus a shout-out. Culminating with the moment Jimmy Tamborello loaded Dntel's Life is Full of Possibilities with guest vocalists, laptops have gone pop, and mainstream at that. That LP led to the Postal Service and a gold record. Dntel's upcoming release even features his own vocals. Artists the world over are constructing their microscopic surgical tracks to adhere to the verse-chorus-verse formula. Dresselhaus deserves recognition because he's been doing this all along. From the fabulous reworking of "There is a Light That Never Goes Out" (titled "Light 3000") back in Y2K, his Schneider TM project has been popping and skipping merrily along the path with never enough fanfare.Skoda Mluvit, in fact, was released last year to almost no fanfare, which is all the more unfortunate considering that everyone else is catching up with Dresselhaus now. But now it's getting another chance, reissued already. In typical Schneider fashion, the album's one unifying theme is bleepy fun, otherwise never staying in one place for more than a couple of tracks. Opener "More Time" spends its four minutes nudging pure cheese, but its percussion is just too good to be dismissed; anyone into The Notwist or Lali Puna knows that German glitch style with the clipped boops and beeps. "Pac Man/ Shopping Cart" is a beautifully effective turn down in mood, and is better than any Kings of Convenience remix I've ever heard.

Although no Schneider TM record is without its dull moments and bad ideas, this one's a keeper. Even now when the genre should be tired, you still can't beat those perfectly sculpted pops or crackles. Dresselhaus may not have invented the bandwagon, but he never jumped on it either. Mad respect.

Michael Wehunt

LCD Soundsystem

Sound of Silver

Capitol / DFA

originally published April 18, 2007

In the abstract, Sound of Silver isn't that different from James Murphy's debut as LCD Soundsystem. There's a dance-punk single, numerous analog disco workouts, and a '70s AOR song. But instead of leading off with the single, as on the debut, we've got an opener with obscured vocals, followed by a peppy but vague number, before we get to "North American Scum." It's a total masterpiece of recording and rhetoric, describing the awkwardness of being an American in Europe, resented for your nationality but not actually supporting its actions, but the song comes out almost patriotic, and hard as hell.

The album's two best songs follow, one a blurry recital of loss, the other a slowly building whirl whose huggable lyrics describe the sound. Murphy smartly ends the album with the other best song, a "Perfect Day" homage/ rip-off that bittersweetly serenades NYC. The danceable songs in between are great if they seem to speak directly to you (hello!), but probably just good otherwise.

So is Sound of Silver a better album because its songs are better (they are) or because it's sequenced better? It doesn't really matter - they're both elements of Murphy's craft, after all - but it's interesting to see the power of good sequencing. Instead of starting strong but scattering its good tracks throughout, like the debut, Sound of Silver builds and builds, then uses this momentum to coast to a fantastic finish. It's a great album, but it also shows that, scarily, Murphy is still learning new things.

Michael Barthel

Stars of the Lid

And Their Refinement of the Decline

Kranky

originally published April 18, 2007

The best ambient music as a deep listening experience functions on a thin wafer of sound that can be compromised and thus broken in a million different ways. "Drift" music in particular relies on softening and stretching source material into a diaphanous taffy, somewhere between drone and clear notes. Imagine an orchestra on Ambien (no pun intended) performing the slowest, grandest adagio ever composed, and then melt the instruments into an alchemic alloy. And then fall asleep inside of it. Almost no one can pull this off.

Adam Wiltzie and Brian McBride - the narcoleptically majestic duo Stars of the Lid - have, over 13 years, crafted a breathtaking discography that truly stands alone. How often can that statement be accurately made? With And Their Refinement of the Decline, the duo has finally confronted impossibility. 2001's The Tired Sounds of the Stars of the Lid is one of the five greatest albums of all time as far as I'm concerned, and far and away the best of anything approaching ambient sound. Including Eno. It found their composition shifting toward the classical canon, favoring nearly identifiable instruments and largely eschewing the tape-splicing of their early days. Nearly six years later the new album (also a two-disc blissfest) cannot conceivably match it. Nor does it need to try. But it comes so close you can round up.

Refinement is yet another step toward classical composition, although it sounds like nothing other than Stars of the Lid. Clearer and more buoyant than past work, the album's molasses flow is two hours of floating in an embryonic state while feeling your favorite love film transpiring inside of each fiber of your being. At turns heartrending and glorious, hushed and epic, it is in its every moment sad and uplifting and perfect. There is simply too much in this music to begin to discuss. Horns and strings and the invisible guitars breathe and sigh and coalesce into angels.

If you care at all about that rare music's ability to enrapture and transport, do yourself an immense favor and pick it up. At the very very least you'll provide yourself with a soundtrack for one of the hardest things to do in today's world: relax. I know of only three artists who create music that is genuinely flawless and moves me to actual tears. One is Arvo Pärt, the greatest composer of the twentieth century. The other two are in Stars of the Lid.

Michael Wehunt

The Ivywood Collective

Collect THIS

Independent Release

originally published April 18, 2007

The one unbreakable rule for band demos is “always put your best song first.” This split EP release between the two local bands Rockinwood and The Leavers - together known as The Ivywood Collective - should have followed that advice and put the best band first. Here Rockinwood is just a miserable jumble of various 1970s styles (Led Zeppelin, Edgar Winter Band, Wet Willie, no-name country) with lyrics that are supposed to be funny but aren’t. But, to be fair, it’s also nearly impossible to tell which songs are whose on this seven-song record because the cover art is arranged such that it looks like Rockinwood perform tracks one, two, four and seven, and The Leavers play tracks three, five and six. If I mistake one band for the other, that mistaken identity also speaks about the indistinct nature of the music.

Songs like “I Bang Oprah” are typical of the type of humor on here (“Would you bang Oprah/ If you had the chance?”) but will likely only ever be played at the very end of a lightly attended gig at The Roadhouse as the regulars are filing out. The songs, though, that try the hardest are “Big Red Shoe,” “Little Biddy People” and “Fractal Song.” Each goes for a classic, big-rock sound but come off as drudgery-laden, whiny and pointless. But I can forgive a band for at least trying to rock and, God help us, but those songs try.

Other tracks (“There’s A Roofie In My Beer,” “Moonshine,” “I Got A Sock”) are just insipid little bits of junk. They’re offensive not because of lyrical subject matter but because they’re so poorly conceived and executed that one feels like time has been stolen after bothering to listen.

Gordon Lamb

The Leavers are playing at the Caledonia Lounge on Wednesday, May 2.

Envie

Envie

Independent Release

originally published April 18, 2007

There’s nothing wrong, morally speaking, with simply pleasant music. Anything that gives a person joy is generally an okay thing. I do, however, have a problem with half-measures and this album, while excellently written and recorded, is full of them.

The tension that some artists keep simmering below the surface lends gravity and depth to their recordings, but in the case of Atlanta's Envie it leaves me simply wanting more. Typical of this experience is the album's opening track “Passage.” A solid guitar riff introduces the pretty, but not overwhelming, vocals of Renee Nelson. Her vocal hesitancy seems to come from a place of wanting to make the recording nothing less than perfect, and thus she loses much of the potential soul and power of her songs, which feature piano melodies that are creative, memorable and dignified.

The jump-up cabaret styling of “Trapped In Amber” has room to gro, but the cinematic “Still Room” is incredible. Easily the best song on the album, it begins with a simple but effective piano riff, and Nelson's voice sounds free, happy and certain. It is also this style which I could envision a nearly perfect album being made with her voice and little less-full instrumentation. Envie began as a small group with piano, cello and harp and the full-band arrangements found here muddle up the sound as many times as they fill out a song properly. In the end, that’s another half measure that's frustrating. There’s nothing wrong with simply pleasant music but wasting potential by weakening ones art, when it’s obvious that it could be so much more powerful, is an affront to the muse who gifted you.

Gordon Lamb