P.O.S - Never Better

Released: February 3, 2009

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Unlike yesterday’s entry, this was an album I was waiting for.  Another release that slathered our campus with posters, P.O.S and the Rhymesayers crew were making sure this wasn’t ignored.  A few days after its release (in February, mind you), I gave the disc a listen with my then-roommate, a fellow P.O.S-enthusiast.

Looking across the room, I said, “Mark my words; this is going to be one of my top albums this year.”

Almost a full four seasons later, here we are, and Never Better is by far my top choice.

I know that P.O.S (whose real, easier-to-type name is Stefon Alexander) didn’t start in hip-hop.  His roots are in punk music, and while that’s a genre I never explored at length, it’s not hard to hear it in his three releases so far, all of which I’ve put serious listening time into.  If he wasn’t performing under Rhymesayers, a blatantly hip-hop label, and roaming the country with ensemble outfit Doomtree, I would beg the question as to whether Stef wants to be called a hip-hop artist at all.  There’s so much more fusion to his work, especially this latest disc, than a vocal track and backing beats.

It’s made for a breakout season for Stef (and in turn Doomtree and Rymesayers.)  When I’m walking through Target, I can see copies of this album all, and I’m glad to see that it hasn’t stopped in Minnesota.  Over the summer I was wandering through a store in Omaha, Nebraska, my hometown, and this was one of the featured discs.  I know that P.O.S is going on nationwide tours and getting huge turnouts and attention for them.  His performance at Soundset this summer was packed; I can speak to that firsthand.

This album deserves that attention, hands-down.  It’s not only one of the best I’ve come across, but one of the most important, with daring songs like Purexed, a track that fast became a staple of my summer.  With songs about trusting in yourself to be a beautiful person, trusting in other people to defy their stereotypes (and quacks say if he’s beat up/he’s bound to smack you, Stef says on Been Afraid, one of the album’s most powerful tracks), and questioning mainstream politics, he’s as informational as he is entertaining.

He’s not afraid to recycle material, either, but in a productive way.  Revisiting Savion Glover, a track from Doomtree’s False Hopes album, gives it a spark it didn’t have before.

Between the new and the old, Stef has brought together a myriad of different things and put them together in a way that doesn’t answer to anyone.  It’s part punk, part hip-hop, part politics, part self-assurance, and the varied nature of the album is what puts it at the top of my list.  It’s not afraid to be its own thing that tells people to be their own things, and as someone that believes in the power of music to change lives (Susan Boyle, anyone?), I think he’s onto something.

Like I said, it’s as important as it is entertaining.

And entertaining it is.  Dropping in pop culture references from Fugazi to The Big Lebowski, Stef definitely has his feelers out and isn’t confining himself to his own art and where it falls.  He’s self-referential, talking about the song itself in Optimist (We Are Not for Them), and throwing back to his previous album, Audition, at the very start of this record.  I’ve talked a lot about what went into it and what I take from it, but at its basest level, it’s an enjoyable album.  The instrumentation keeps a foot tapping, his delivery is timed while being a little improvised (see the end of Purexed, where he falters and laughs; I still can’t tell if it was just an outtake left in), he’s got a voice that leads and commands, his pacing is impressive, as on the title track where he takes an interesting candor. . .  It sounds as good as it feels.

Wordplay is an element not confined to the independent hip-hop scene, but I’ve noticed it being used there the most.  Someone once told me that a pun is the lowest form of humor, and I think the line between that and tricky wordplay is thin but vitally important to recognize.  Listening to the way Stef plays with what he’s saying, whether it’s his rhymes or the words themselves, is just another degree to the consideration put into these fifteen tracks.

Give this album a chance, and give it a listen.  This is another record that I recommend putting real attention to in order to get everything out of it that you should.  It’s unfortunate these days how much work independent artists put into their works just to have them become background noise.  Do P.O.S and the entire Rhymesayers label a favor and if you haven’t yet, give this album a real listen, whether it’s your first or fifteenth time through it.

This is, like I said, by far my favorite release of the year, and it’s been holding to that title since almost 2008.  I’m proud to have listened to and enjoyed this as much as I have, and it won’t be going anywhere in 2010.

And that winds up my best of 2009 list.  A happy new year to all of you, happy listening for 2010, and now we’ll resume our regularly scheduled, musically unguided reviews.

Take care, all.

Cheers.

Links: MySpace • Facebook • Twitter • Last.fm

fun. - Aim and Ignite

Released: August 25, 2009

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Since we’re so close to the end, here’s a story to illustrate my history with fun.:

When The Format broke up in early 2008 I was crushed, and I’ll bet I wasn’t the only one.  They’d become such a staple of my musical life that after their final release, a collection of B-sides, I looked at what I had and it wasn’t enough.

Elsewhere on my iPod I was picking up a new band called Steel Train, having seen them open for The Format the one time the latter was in Minnesota before its disbanding, and absolutely falling in love with their east coast college rock sound.

I ran across a third group, Anathallo, on a music blog one afternoon, didn’t like the sound, and disregarded it altogether.

Suddenly MySpace was telling me about another project, a band called fun. that was forming somewhere.  “Who’s involved?” people were asking.  The answer was shook the foundations of indie pop music:  Nate Ruess, former vocalist of The Format, alongside Jack Antonoff (leader of Steel Train) and Andrew Dost (a departed member of Anathallo.)  Once I caught my breath, I listened to the one track the band had up. . .

. . .and cringed.  I didn’t like the sound, didn’t like the departure from all three styles the members were coming from.  Let down, I turned it off and went back to my business.

A number of months later, a friend told me about a concert he had a spare ticket to, and asked if I’d like to come along.  “Who’s involved?” I started asking.  He told me that fun. would be playing.  Realizing that I had nothing else to do, I asked for a copy of the album and told him I’d come along to keep him company and pay my respect to Nate Ruess.

I listened to the album once.

And then again.

And then over and over, wondering why I’d disregarded the disc in the first place.

The latest comer to my list of 7 to round out the year, Aim and Ignite is in the minority on the list because I clearly wasn’t anticipating its release.  Before November, I could’ve barely cared less about fun.  I couldn’t tell you where the switch came from, whether it was a slight change in taste or knowing that I was going to see them, but this release shot up my favorites of the year faster than I’d ever expected it would.

Poppy, considerate, lyrically sound, and musically considerate, I find myself retracting my cringe and heralding Ruess’ return to the indie scene and his choice to team up with Antonoff.  While Ruess takes up lead vocals for all ten tracks, I can definitely hear Antonoff’s guitar standing on its own, as well as the many instruments that Doss plays.  Having talked to them after the show, where six members took the stage, it’s my understanding that a few more musicians were involved in the recording of the disc.  Still, the core three are undoubtedly the most prominent.

“Feel-good music” is what it is, definitely.  I test you to listen to Walking the Dog without tapping your foot, and All the Pretty Girls without at least wanting to sing along to the chorus by a few times through.  The album slows down in places, too, but only briefly.  It’s easier in those spots to see Ruess’ style come through, like in the lyrics to Take Your Time (Coming Home) and The Gambler.  He writes a lot about family and loss, and sometimes loss of family, and the wind-down of the album highlights that well.

I’ve read some other reviews of this album.  Estella Hung of PopMatters calls the disc “an album that failed to live up to the Format’s last outing.”  While I agree that Aim and Ignite isn’t set up to unseat Dog Problems, the “last outing” in question, I think it holds its own as a Ruess project outside the vacuum of The Format.  In fact, listening to it and disregarding The Format except in retrospective longing is probably the best thing for this disc.  For three seasoned musicians putting together a debut collective album, I think they’ve done well to act together and not let the sum of the parts outweigh the whole.

Sure, there are moments in which I think someone is too present over others – for example, the end of the final track, in which Ruess falls into improvised phrase repetition that would be a staple of a live show but sounds awkwardly slapped onto a studio recording.  Another criticism is that if you don’t give the album a chance, it’ll sound like forty-two minutes of the same song.  I think that’s a trap a lot of artists fall into, but it takes a solid act to make those little differences count like fun. does.

But these are my favorite albums of the year, right?  And this is where this one belongs.

We’ll wrap up tomorrow and wish each other the best in a new year.

Cheers.

Links: Official Site • MySpace • Facebook • Twitter • Last.fm

Kno of CunninLynguists

Sorry for the short entry amidst my end-of-year fun, but if you read my previous Soapbox entry on CunninLynguists, you probably saw the note I sent to Kno.

It’d be unfair not to publish his response, which, really, is a fair response:

I had literally 20-30 people thank me for making them a part of the show and in general loved it, mostly women, over the course of a 32 day tour.  You’re literally the only person to complain.

Some 40+ year old man in NYC who came with his wife and kids all the way up from Philly pulled me aside to tell me how great it was that I literally grabbed his wife’s arm and “pumped it” for her. I razzed the shit out of her and they loved every second of it.

Light ribbing, bro. Go play some football or drink a shot of whiskey. If this weighs on your mind heavy enough to write me a paragraph about it 2 weeks later I’m thinking it is a “you” issue and not a “me” issue.

Peace!
Kno

st. vincent - Actor

Released: May 5, 2009

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I don’t remember dates well, but I know that this album came out on May 5^th.  That’s because after discovering 2007’s Marry Me, I’ve kept a finger on the st. vincent pulse.  When the announcement came out that Annie Clark (the driving force behind the band) would be putting out her sophomore album in 2009, I all but dreamt and slept the words “May fifth.”

Finally the day came and I got the album.  I remember hurrying down the hall of my dorm, knocking on a friend’s door.  “I’ve got the new st. vincent,” I told him, and a minute later we were perched in front of my laptop, hitting the play button.

A few minutes into the opening track, The Strangers, Clark’s trademark, apocalyptic guitar grinds broke through an otherwise-mellow track, and all we could do was nod at each other.

Annie Clark is probably insane, or at least thinking in a way that if I ever met her, we’d have nothing to talk about.  The way she sets up her songs, balancing an airy voice, choral background vocals, and abrasive, ugly thrashings, is more than I can ever hope to get my head around.  Her lyrics are perfection; her musicianship is off-beat but spot-on for what it is; she owns the music.  Listening to any of st. vincent’s catalogue, it becomes glaringly apparent that each of the songs was put together by the same person and that they’ll never be confused with anyone else’s work.

As a follow-up to Marry Me, it suits itself well.  It’s a lot of the same, sure, but it worked the first time around and I for one have never had a problem with musicians staying where they’re at if it’s a place I enjoy.  But there’s also a lot of. . .dare I say growth?  Again, as a musician I don’t know when someone has really improved, but Actor feels like it gives more consideration to the things surrounding Clark’s voice and instrumentation.

Through La Blogotheque, I found a clip of Clark playing a short set with Andrew Bird, improvising on his violin, earlier this year.  During Black Rainbow, she makes it clear that at the end of the song he just needed to keep going up, up, up – and good lord was she not kidding (for what it’s worth, they’re both clearly trying hard to keep a straight faces).  The last minute-plus of the album version of the track is thundering drums surrounding eight notes on a violin that climb almost impossibly high.  On one hand, it’s unnerving – when might she stop? – but on the other, it’s beautiful and effective – do we want it to stop?

She does a lot of things like that.  I had a chance to see her play live this year (my second time), and her solos went on so long that the audience got plain uncomfortable at points.  At the same time, the way she presented the album was completely different from. . .well, the album.  She played most of the disc, but no song was sung the same way we were used to hearing it.  She took the upbeat and made it into a funeral march, turned her most melancholy verses and made them sound like small stampedes.  That’s another draw to the album – Annie Clark can do so many things with a single release.

Give a listen to one of the singles from the album, Marrow.  Around the 2:30 mark, I don’t even know what instruments she’s using, but I like the way it fits together.  Within a few tracks, it’s not hard to believe that she spent a fair amount of time playing with The Polyphonic Spree, and I’m glad to see that she’s gotten to break out on her own.

I know I’m attracted to music that really has a realm of its own, and that’s what brings st. vincent so close to the top spot on my 2009 list – it’s why this album was my number 5 a few days ago and has kept moving its way up with each listen.  I also know that this disc isn’t for everyone, but while we’re talking about my favorites, let’s talk about st. vincent.

Clark sings on track six, “I can’t see the future/but I know it’s got big plans for me.”

Yes, Annie.  It sure does.

Links:  Official Site • MySpace • Facebook • Last.fm

Eyedea & Abilities - By the Throat

Released: July 21, 2009

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Eyedea & Abilities is a group that I think I always knew was there, but I never gave them much attention before this year.  They’ve been running the same circuits as the rest of the Rhymesayers label for what seems like forever, and Eyedea has made quite a name on his own for his performances at events like Scribble Jam, but I just never made the effort to actually listen to them much.

I knew they were onto something when I saw fliers for this album going up around campus, though, and was stepping on them by the dozens at this year’s Soundset festival, hosted by Rhymesayers itself.  When I saw a live performance for Intermedia Arts go up on YouTube, I thought I’d try it out.

A few days later, I was taking drives just to listen to the album.

A friend of mine told me a story about an Eyedea & Abilities show he saw in Madison, Wisconsin.  Eyedea (real name Mike Larsen) came up to the microphone, picked it up, and looked around nervously before leaning close and muttering, “Uh. . .hi.  My name’s Eyedea. . .and I make a lot of money.  But. . .I don’t really care.”

It was a good introduction to the group – not too forceful, but not too quiet, just like the music.

I respect independent hip-hop artists moreso than those in the mainstream because I feel like they really have to say something, not just mumble to themselves and let the beats sell the albums.  E&A, to put it lightly, is good at that.  On the opening track, Hay Fever, Larsen (Eyedea’s given name) immediately proves that he can tell stories with the best of them.  His presence as both an individual and part of the whole is evident.

The quality of the tracks, too, shows a dedication often lost in cookie-cutter Top 40’s music.  Eyedea lacks nothing as a performer (I had the chance to see the group open for Atmosphere this September) nor as a recording artist.  DJ Abilities (real name Gregory Keltgen) is at his side with beats that showcase talent; they don’t just support the lyrics.  He could produce songs that make a car shake, sure, but he’s made the clear choice to put together instrumental backings that stand out on their own and supplement the focal point of the tracks without getting lost behind it.  At about the two-minute mark on Spin Cycle there’s a breakdown that’s nothing short of a solo.

The two come together masterfully, sure, but there’s also an interesting disconnect between the elements.  The album feels like two halves coming together without quite fitting, but it doesn’t detract.  Eyedea’s scratchy, sore-throated rhymes are their own works; Abilities’ beats are sometimes ugly (in the best way), other times wonderful, and hold their own; when they come together, you can really hear that they don’t necessarily need each other, but there’s a good reason they’re together.  The two aren’t butting heads by any means. I think the sound – which, working in reverse over E&A’s releases, is fairly new – is nearly perfect, and neither head is going to be ignored.

Speaking of the sound, I know that Eyedea & Abilities is primarily a hip-hop outfit, but there are other elements at play and I’m excited to hear them every time.  There are moments of guitars, others of bass and basses, and often there are refrains to the songs, something to bring the listener back to understanding that these are songs, not just rants.  With so many god-complex emcees with almost too much to say, it’s good to have a break in the action, so to speak.  Another track I previewed, Burn Fetish, catches this idea spot-on.

This release is well timed, too, which I haven’t noticed about a lot of others.  It’s not too long, as a lot of hip-hop releases can feel around track 16, but it’s not too short as to leave the listener feeling cheated.  I picked this disc up for about ten bucks, and I was proud to have paid that.

I have only good things to say about Eyedea & Abilities this year.  They’re excellent performers, a charismatic team, and a joy to be able to sort of associate myself with, being a Twin Cities resident and all.  It’s good to see them getting wider distribution, too, through deals with places like Target, and to see Rhymesayers coming into prominence for the independent arts outlet it is.

These two have a long history behind them and a lot future ahead of them.  Let’s home they never take themselves any more or less seriously than they did in 2009.

Cheers.

Links:  MySpace • Facebook • Twitter • Last.fm

The Drug Budget - No Contest EP

Released: August 22, 2009

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It’s been a big year for The Drug Budget.  Somewhere between getting signed to Minneapolis’ own Dead Sound Music and putting out this gem of a package, I’m thinking that 2009 is the proper place for these crazies.

I’ve already reviewed this release, so I’ll keep the recap short, but I still feel like it should have its time in the sun – again.

From the packaging to the actual music, The Nerve/No Contest is something to behold.  The double-EP, which was promoted strongly as a double-EP and not a full LP, has no beginning and no end.  Vain Mainstream, vocalist and lyrical madman behind the group, teamed up with local personality Devlin Anderson (owner of Dead Sound) and made sure of that.  When you pick up the album sleeve, the cover of one EP is on one side and the cover of the other is on the reverse.  Checking the spine of the case, one title will read upright while the other is upside down.

Open it, and everything is sideways.  Holding it portrait style will tell you what you need to know about one, but you’re going to have to flip it over to know about the other.  The discs are fairly symmetrical, and they were released on the same night.

Like I said before, the consideration for the physical presentation of the double-EP is a huge draw for me.  I’m big into the age of CD and resisting the transfer to digital music (yes, I know that someday I’ll have to make the jump, but it’s not today.)  Seeing musicians who put that much word into the literal CD they’ve recorded warms my heart a little.

And playing the release doesn’t let down from there.  With varied tempos within songs (Nancy Pelosi’s Dead), political soundbites (the very end of The Nerve, in which President Obama tells hopes that we’re all prepared to continue this wonderful journey we call America), and just an overall unique style, I can’t tell if Mainstream is kidding when he boasts being “pure American rock n’ roll,” nor do I know how seriously to take Anderson when he advertises the Budget as “the best rock n’ roll band in history.”

Whether they’re kidding or not, this is an incredible release.  They’re driving rock music from a place I’m proud to call home, and they’re present on the scene; if you want to hear the Budget, there are plenty of opportunities.  I know my bias of knowing the band is probably helping out with their place on my top seven, but it’s like adding seasoning to the meal; sure, it’s kind of like cheating, but it does taste good.

Lyrically, Mainstream is spot-on.  Instrumentally, the rest of the guys (Linus Kangas, Lorin Nelson, and Tom Tier) don’t leave room to accuse The Drug Budget of having any slack to pick up.  These four put themselves into this double-EP and it shows.

Wherever they go from here, this is something I’m proud to own.

Cheers.

Links: MySpace • Facebook • Twitter

Metavari - Be One of Us and Hear No Noise

Released: August 18, 2009

If I had found Metavari earlier in the year, I have no doubt that I would’ve been waiting for this album and that it would’ve become my number one pick of 2009.  Alas, we only crossed paths this fall, after I’d pledged allegiance to a number of my 7, and I only found them by mistake: mis-reading the band name as Maserati, I clicked on a link to preview one of their songs.

To start, I was thrilled that Maserati was moving in a more downbeat, Six Parts Seven-esque direction.

When I realized my accident, of course, I immediately dug up everything about Metavari that I could find.

There’s not a lot about them right now, or at least they don’t get the wide attention they’ve deserved.  It took me a moment to realize that this is the group’s debut release, excepting their Ambling EP.  Considering the music sounds more like a conversation than a composition, I was, to say the least, damn impressed.

This album is beautiful.  While a lot of people are stuck on Explosions in the Sky, this group and album are proof that there’s much more post-rock/math rock/instrumental/whatever you want to call it to be discovered.  Like I said about Diane Birch yesterday, there’s not a wasted moment on this disc (though to be fair I could’ve dealt without the child’s voice on Story for a Song Without an End).  Start to finish, this is a band that knows what it’s doing.

The music is slow.  Like I’ve said about previously reviewed things, this isn’t something to put on if you’re trying to motivate yourself.  But this disc has become my go-to studying noise, and because colleges are such a focal point for independent music, I think that’s pertinent.

The guitars chime in beautifully; the drums don’t overwhelm.  Indievision’s review of the album says that Metavari makes the listener a participant, not just an observer, and I agree with that.  From the first track to the last, I always feel involved in the songs, like I’ve chosen to be there and I’m not just shuffling my iTunes around.  Be One of Us is welcoming and soothing, but never boring.  In the age of background music, it’s nice to find a few releases that entertain the listener, and this is definitely one of those.

And once I heard it all the way through, I wanted to hear it again.  I wanted to listen closely to the commentary on Kings Die Like Other Men, a stellar opening track that’s equal parts Zero 7 and RJD2 with a flair that’s nothing but Metavari.  I wanted to get into the transitions between tracks, even learn French so I know what’s going on in Story for a Song Without an End.

Okay, maybe not that far.

If it sounds like I’m inarticulately gushing over this album, it’s because I am.  On one hand, it’s hard to know what to say about a release without lyrics, because there aren’t the usual elements to critique.  I don’t know musicianship, but I know that this is well put-together.  On the other, Be One of Us and Hear No Noise is more something to experience than listen to, and that’s hard to pin words on, too.

Even if you’re not a fan of instrumental rock music, it’s well worth at least previewing a track.  Like I said, if I hadn’t practically tattooed my top five to myself so early in the game, this would sail right to the top.  I’m excited to see what’s in store.

Cheers.

Links:  Official Site • MySpace • Facebook • Twitter • Last.fm

Diane Birch - Bible Belt

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I’m. . .in love with Diane Birch.

Okay, so maybe that takes it a little far, but there’s something about her that has never let me down.  I came across her on a Facebook sidebar, telling me that if I liked A Fine Frenzy, I would love Diane Birch.  I previewed her album and got a copy right away.  Since then, between awkwardly running into and introducing myself to her in a club and showing her music to my manager, there’ve been no negative feelings.

The first word that comes to mind in Birch’s music is “crisp.”  Her notes and vocals are high and clear without flipping up into a falsetto; it’s a full sound and easy to connect with.  And it’s also an incredibly clean sound, wasting no time on daring backgrounds or intentionally off-beat vocals.  While I’m always open to those, this isn’t a shoegaze record – it’s soul music, though and through.

And what else can be expected from an album called Bible Belt?  I felt bad for saying it until someone else had the same reaction, but the title initially put me off completely.  Bibles?  I went to high school in a very, very small town, and have had enough of Bibles and Christian musicians to satisfy me for the rest of my life.  Without something to get behind, it’s hard to love music with a mission like that.

But that’s beside the point.

The point is, I’m basically in love with Diane Birch, Bibles or otherwise.  She’s come into the music business at a good time, debuting with this disc just this past May – we’ve got a healthy number of female singer-songwriters paving the way for each other, and either she or whomever discovered her did her a favor by getting her name in the mix when it got there.

I know that to an extent, these songs are crafted for me to like them.  I’m supposed to be in love with Diane Birch.  I’m supposed to like her clean tracks.  This music is supposed to make me feel good and I’m supposed to feel like my friends could like it and give it to them.

But it’s goddamn good.

Diane Birch is dealing with a great amount of talent, and she knows it.  I’m going to be listening to this album quite a bit over the course of the next year, because I didn’t familiarize myself with it nearly enough by the end of this month.

Still, it hops in at 7 of 7, and there’s a reason I didn’t stop at 6.

Cheers.

Links:  Official Site • MySpace • Facebook • Twitter • Last.fm

Evan Brightly - The Narrator

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The Narrator is, at least, one of my most anticipated physical albums in the past few years.  Based out of Arizona, Evan Brightly found me on MySpace – one of those bands.  I try to give everyone a listen before I discredit mass-adders, and usually the groups I come across are complete flops.

Evan Brightly is far from.

Though Evan Brightly is, as far as I can tell, a fictional character, he’s taken on an identity of his own with his own pictures, speech patterns, and story.  I was intrigued by the artistic set-up of the group’s page when it found me in 2008, and the preview tracks had me hooked.  The mysterious nature of the project had the effect that it probably was supposed to.  I wanted this music, these pictures, more information.  I waited and waited for the physical release of the album, and when it showed up at the post office, I could barely sit still in class.

The first listen didn’t disappoint.

Putting slow, melodic songs next to powerful, emotional thundering is something these boys are doing well.  Sometimes they even manage it in the same song (such as the album’s opener, Love is a Perfect Thing.)  With a sound somewhere between Minus the Bear and Final Fantasy, it doesn’t rush at you from behind, but there’s a bit of a kick to go with their classic sound.  The vocals are imperfect, or at least leave a little something to be desired by an audience so used to hyper-production.  The songs feel a little empty sometimes, like a three-minute track could be so much better if they pushed the seven-minute envelope.  Occasionally I want more instruments, more meat on the bones.  But these elements all fit so well together that you barely notice them if you’re not looking for something to nitpick – its sometimes-minimalist sound still comes together into something so full.

What I most admire about the project, though, is that it’s something that perhaps falls into the “art rock” category.  The album the group’s twelve-track debut, yes, but the band is something much larger.  The songs are supplemented by chapters in an optionally-accompanying book, also entitled The Narrator (which I haven’t had a chance to read, but their blog excerpts are philosophically fascinating, and Christmas is here and maybe I’ll treat myself eventually.)  The paintings gracing both the album and the book are all original works, beautiful and provoking all at once, and have as much to do with Evan Brightly as the music does.

In that respect, I couldn’t not take time this year to congratulate Evan Brightly on what they’ve done so far.  Sometimes “Evan” will post a musing on the MySpace page and be met with loyal fans waxing poetic back at him; the paintings are posted and looked at in a critical way.  The music is serious and makes the listener think, especially if she has engaged herself in the rest of the Evan Brightly universe.

This is, dare I say, one of the most intelligent releases I’ve come across in years.

In terms of longevity, I’m a little fearful for these guys.  They’ve put mountains of work into The Narrator, and it shows, but it’s a little hard to rebound and put that much unique effort into a second project when so much has ridden on the first.  I think it’ll be a challenge for this Phoenix outfit not to recycle itself back into the machine, but that doesn’t change my opinion.

Best of luck, Evan.

Cheers.

Links:  Official Site • MySpace • Facebook • Twitter • Last.fm

Ampersand Music's Top 7 of 2009

The prelude goes like this:

At the end of every year, I put together my list of my favorite five albums from the past twelve months.  And each year I inevitably forget something ingenious, regret putting so-and-so in my Top Five, and try to do better the next year.

2009 marks my most dedicated year, though.  Since January first, I’ve been keeping a list of all the new music I’ve come across.  (If you’re interested, this year that tally is eighty-five albums.)  Throughout the month of December I’ve listened to each album in full, put serious consideration to each, and quietly honed my five.

Well. . .kind of.

Narrowing eighty-five to five was rough, so I didn’t do it.  I came down to seven and absolutely couldn’t cut another; none of them were ones I wanted to lose the opportunity to spotlight.

So for the next week, one album a day, I’ll be giving posting my personal favorite seven albums of the year, finishing it off on New Year’s Eve.

Thanks for reading along, and a happy new year to all.

Cheers.

Oh, and if you’re interested, here’s this year’s field of eighty-five:

Anderson Cale – Anderson Cale

Antony and the Johnsons – The Crying Light

Iain Archer – To the Pine Roots

Basment Jaxx – Scars

Beirut – March of the Zapotec/Realpeople Holland

Andru Bemis – Live at the Hill Street Boat House

Big Jess – Whatever I Want: The Mixtape

Diane Birch – Bible Belt

Brian Blade and the Fellowship Band – Live at the Newport Folk Festival

Bon Iver – Blood Bank EP

Bowerbirds – Upper Air

Boxer Rebellion – Union

Susan Boyle – I Dreamed a Dream

Brother Ali – The Truth is Here EP

Brother Ali – Us

Budo – One Bird on a Wire

Andrew Carter – Sticks EP

Neko Case – Middle Cyclone

Chicken Little! – The Sky is Not Falling

Les Claypool – Of Fungi and Foe

Cobra Starship – Hot Mess

Company of Thieves – Ordinary Riches

Cymbals Eat Guitars – Why There Are Mountains

Danger Mouse and Sparklehorse – Dark Night of the Soul

The Daylight – 6 A.M.

The Dead Weather – Horehound

The Decemberists – The Hazards of Love

The Drug Budget – No Contest/The Nerve Double EP

duck/duck/punch. – duck/duck/punch EP

Eyedea & Abilities – By the Throat

Felt – Felt 3 (A Tribute to Rosie Perez)

Fly Rich – $20

fun. – Aim and Ignite

fun. – Daytrotter Session

God Help the Girl – God Help the Girl

Great Lake Swimmers – Lost Channels

In-Flight Safety – We Are an Empire, My Dear

Iron & Wine – Around the Well

Iron & Wine – Norfolk

The Joy Formidable – A Balloon Called Moaning

Karen O and the Kids – Where the Wild Things Are

Le Loup – Family

The Lonely Island – Incredibad

Lucky Elephant – Star Sign Trampoline

The Mars Volta – Octahedron

Matt & Kim – Grand

Dent May – The Good-Feeling Music of Dent May and his Magnificent Ukelele

Metavari – Be One of Us and Hear No Noise

DJ Morgoth – Mash-Up Your Bootz Vol. 4

Morrissey – Years of Refusal

The Mountain Goats and John Vanderslice – Moon Colony Bloodbath

National Skyline – Bliss & Death

Franz Nicolay – Major General

The Nightgowns – Sing Something

Official Secrets Act – Understanding Electricity

P.O.S – Never Better

Paramore – Brand New Eyes

Passion Pit – Manners

Phoenix – Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix

A Place to Bury Strangers – Exploding Head

Placebo – Battle for the Sun

Power of 2 – Power of 2

Propagandhi – Supporting Caste

The Queen Killing Kings – Tidal Eyes

Rain Machine – Rain Machine

Sage Francis – Sick of Wasting…

Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes – Up from Below

Shortwave Fade – Deletia

The Sounds – Crossing the Rubicon

Stephen Steinbrink – Ugly Unknowns

The Strawberry Preserved – Fear and Loafing

Regina Spektor – Far

st. vincent – Actor

Dustin Thomas – Give

Dustin Thomas – Live at The Red Sea

Two Tongues – Two Tongues

Volcano Choir – Unmap

Rufus Wainwright – Milwaukee at Last!!!

Jason Webley and Sxip Shirey – Days With You

White Rabbits – It’s Frightening

Workers – Workers

Thao with the Get Down Stay Down – Know Better Learn Faster

Toki Wright – A Different Mirror

Zero 7 – Yeah Ghost

Kno of CunninLynguists

I do what I can to be friends with artists.

Somewhere among this blog, my camera, and the fact that I catch every show of a band I really, truly like when it comes to town, I’m making steps to let artists know that they’re appreciated around here.  I respect them, and I try to show that respect.

Sometimes things get in the way of that appreciation.  Sometimes, for example, finals come up and I can’t update my blog as often as I’d like to (sorry, folks — but the holidays do often bring the gift of music).  Sometimes it’s hard to get in touch with individual artists in a personal way.

And sometimes the artists themselves botch the whole thing.

A few weeks ago, on December 3, First Avenue in Minneapolis was host to an album release by Unknown Prophets, one of my favorite local acts.  First Ave, if you’re not from the area, is nationally-famous as the spawning point of acts like Prince, and is really a landmark of the Twin Cities music scene as a whole.

Unknown Prophets’ show had fallen dangerously close to a local date of another tour, featuring my hero Grieves, and the masterminds behind First Ave decided to combine the shows into one big blowout.   I called a friend, a fellow Grieves enthusiast, and armed with photo passes provided generously by one of the higher-ups at First Ave, we grabbed our cameras and went out to the show, which at this point was an Unknown Prophets album release being essentially supported by the Strange Journeys Tour, which was headlined by…

CunninLynguists.

I don’t know CunninLynguists all that well.  A friend of mine is a big fan, but I never got around to listening to its work before we got to the show.  I was pretty lukewarm on them — smoke-that-weed songs don’t really get me going — and lost interest when, during one of the last songs in the set, the three of them started a call-and-response of “Move, bitch, get out the way.”  I wasn’t feeling that, but kept taking pictures, because the acts were well lit and I meant to use that photo pass.

After the song was over, one of the ‘Lynguists (Kno), looked down at me.

I’ll let my letter to CunninLynguists take the story from here.

-

Hey Kno,

I don’t know if this’ll ever make it to you, or if you’ll care about it, but I was the guy with the photo pass in Minneapolis who wasn’t call-and-responding along to “Move, bitch, get out the way.”  From there, you kind of leaned down at me and called me out for thinking I was too important that night to have to be one of everyone else, and around the point that I started really feeling like a piece of shit, I sang back at you, you mocked me a bit more in front of the entire First Ave crowd [note: at this point Kno was asking if I'd prefer he said, "Um, excuse me, ma'am, I don't mean to bother, but, uh, I am trying to get to a specific point behind you, and I am afraid you are obstructing my goal," or something similar], and the night went on.

I’m majoring in communications studies, too, and just finished a public relations class.  The main theme of the class? Know your publics.

Good luck with everything,
LM

-

Happy holidays, folks.  I promise to catch up on posting things throughout the next weeks, including my Best of 2009 entry.

Cheers.

duck/duck/punch. EP

duck/duck/punch.

It’s annoying to type, sure, but it’s worth the listen.  Comprised of University of Minnesota-Duluth students Bryan Rudell and Trent Waterman and backed by their wide array of electronic instrumentals, duck/duck/punch. has gone from not really existing to opening for Boston lovechildren Freezepop on a mini-Minnesota tour just last week.

A scan of their EP explains why, even though it’s not saying much.

I must be a bad twenty-first century media consumer, because my attention span is a little too long for this release.  Clocking in at a disappointing seven minutes, the duck/duck/punch. EP gets me revved up around the same time it ends and my iTunes moves on to Duran Duran ( coincidentally one of the group’s major influences ).

And while the length is a substantial complaint, it’s really my only one.  I know a lot of artists who set out to make genre music, be it rock, hip-hop, electronica, or anything else, but a number of them seem to fall short.  They have the elements, the instruments, and good intentions, but they’re just slapping it all together and handing it out to their friends.

Waterman and Rudell, though, have clearly done their research.  I can whine all day about the EP only being two tracks long, but the fact is that those two tracks are put together with consideration and craft, not just tossing out synth en masse.  The composition makes me believe that these two are really thinking more about how it sounds than the fact that it makes sound.  They’ve put effort into both recording and thinking – a novel idea for a first disc.

Oh, and they’re danceable as hell.  That’s a major plus.

I do wish there was more to this; I really do.  In a month I’ll have a hard time listening to it because when I want to hear duck/duck/punch., my option will be “This track or this one – oh, but I’ve heard them both a few dozen times.”  But I caught their debut show in Duluth last week and they played much more than they’ve released, so my hesitation about this EP is calmed by knowing that more is to come.

Cheers.

Links:  Official Site • MySpace • Facebook • Twitter • Spastic Cat Records

Anderson Cale

-

Jesse Cale ( formerly Cale ) is an artist that has been on my radar since he was performing under the parenthetical name.  Though we didn’t meet that night, I saw Jesse play for the first and yet-only time in Wilmington, Ohio, at the Autobahn Electric Pop Music Festival of 2007.  He was playing two keyboards, shouting some of his songs into a megaphone, pushing for as much dancing as possible, and looking like he was really enjoying himself.

Oh, and he was sixteen years old.

When I ordered my first batch of Cale discs, he sent me three CD-Rs with white stickers on them, a trio of lo-fi electronic recordings that promised something, but didn’t quite deliver, if only for sound quality.  The kind of person I am, though, I could appreciate the effort and dedication; I kept my eye on him.

Fast forward two years, an EP, and 16,000 MySpace fans, and Jesse Cale has teamed up with Jeff Anderson to form Anderson Cale, an ambient post-rock duo whose first album rose just over a week ago.  I apologize for my lack of focus on Jeff, who I imagine has just as much to do with this project as Jesse does, but we’ve never been in contact whereas Jesse and I have.

The latter was nice enough to send me a copy of the album shortly after its release, and I recall that my first opinion was, “Wow; I hadn’t expected that at all.”  The project is a shift from Jesse’s upbeat, energetic recordings of old.  It’s more melodic and thoughtful, more parts The Mercury Program than Hellogoodbye, where I might’ve associated his work before.

Music like this evokes serious introspection, at least for me.  Every time I put it on, from the opening strains of The Wait, I’m under the impression that it’s a moment made just for me, something very close.  I couldn’t see audibly sharing this disc with just anyone I knew – the songs come packaged with a kind of intimacy that requires commitment from both artist and listener.  I can’t believe that this is any sort of accident; the guiding question surrounding the release was, “Why can’t there be music written for the purpose of bringing peace to the anxious soul?”

And peaceful it is.

The adventure is beautifully composed, capturing both the highs and lows of its gentle instrumentation.  The album listens like the morning after the first snow in a small town, where you can wake up and have the serene all to yourself.  I can imagine setting myself up for a long walk outside the city and putting this album on for guidance.  The ambiance behind the main instrumentation suggests late-night drives, artistic endeavors, even listening for the sake of listening; as mellow as the album is, it’s far from background noise.

Anderson and Cale merge flawlessly as comrades; I can’t stop calling this release something beautiful, nor could I use any other word for how well they work together.  For having put the effort together within a year, the compositional chemistry is mindblowing.  It sounds the two of them were discussing things with instruments rather than setting out to record an album.  “The journey has been easy thus far, because we’re not trying,” the band writes on its MySpace. “We simply made what we feel to be a good piece of art without the visions of grandeur.”  This tenderness for the project is evident from start to finish, whether in the surprising guitars partway through Where the Saints Will Go, the choral joy of Move in Me, or the simple, circular plinkings of Breathe Out.

This is not a disc that will motivate you to run a marathon; if you’re looking for active, exciting music, this may not be the place.  But if you want to calm down, appreciate the work that goes into a release, and listen to something that makes you realize where you are, Anderson Cale is something to consider.

Cheers.

Links: MySpace • Facebook • Twitter • iTunes (opens the iTunes Player)

Forever the Sickest Kids

THE LINEUP

Vita

My Favorite Highway

Sing it Loud

The Rocket Summer

Forever the Sickest Kids

THE SHOW

I should hate Forever the Sickest Kids.

They’re poppy.  They’re formulaic.  They appeal to a crowd of twelve year olds.  Their lead singer still sports oversized baseball caps with the authenticity stickers left on them.  There’s nothing at all amazing about their instrumentation, their vocals, or their image.

But god dammit, they’re catchy, and I like them.  A whole lot.

I first found them in the summer of 2008 when they were playing the Ernie Ball Stage at Warped Tour and have been idly waiting for them to come back since.  I remember Warped Tour being hot, crowded, and oppressive, and I wanted to see them in a smaller venue with a thinner crowd.  So when someone said they were coming to Station 4 in Saint Paul, my longtime favorite venue in the Twin Cities, I had him snatch me a ticket and planned for enjoying them instead of fighting for elbow room during their set.

How misguided I was.

First of all, the night started on a bad note personally for myself and a few friends.  I caught the 67 bus down Minnehaha and University, all the way to 4th and Cedar in one go.  Not only was I the only person on the bus, but it picked me up late and ten minutes before peak hours were over.  When I got off and started walking toward the venue, the sidewalks were blocked due to construction and I had to take a very roundabout way to get to the place.

Elsewhere in the state, one friend coming to the show had locked his keys in his car and another was lost in Bloomington.  ( If you’re unfamiliar with these places, Google Maps will do all the complicated geography for you. )  The road to this show was no easy for any of us.

Something I’d forgotten in the midst of all of this was that, as an all-ages show given the crowd FTSK caters to, doors opened ridiculously early, long before I was out of class and even headed for the bus stop.  I got to Station 4 as hometown ( hometown being Duluth ) hero Sing it Loud was finishing its final song.  I’d completely missed Vita and My Favorite Highway, though I’d never heard of either before.  Ever poppy, though, Sing it Loud put me in the right mood for the rest of the show.

I’ve already expressed my fondness for Station 4.  I saw n0w-defunct Arizona band The Format play its single Minnesota show there, shortly before it broke up, to a sold-out crowd.  I saw psychobilly favorites Koffin Kats play to a crowd of maybe fifteen people.  I’ve always enjoyed the crowd and the atmosphere, and have never been in a really tight spot before.

Last night, I hated the crowd.

First off, this is a crowd that clearly listens to brokeNCYDE in its spare time, or at least a lot of Soulja Boy Tell’em and a lot of Atreyu.  I saw one boy, clearly under the age of sixteen, whose black hair was gelled straight back and a little upward — when he jumped, it was long enough that it literally hit the girl behind him in the face over and over again.

And jumped, he did.

This amalgamation of teens and tweens wearing black T-shirts with fluorescent, illegible print and New York Yankees caps moved so much that being in the front — trying desperately to get anything more steady than the picture that started this review, which was impossible — was miserable.  Absolutely miserable.  Sometimes there was a surge so hard that I was at a forty-five degree angle to the ground; other times I was lifted off it and had to keep a solid hand on my hat.

This certainly wasn’t a new atmosphere to me — I’ve been to shows like this dozens of times over, but I don’t know why I think I’m going to start liking them any more.  I’ve always disliked them.  And I guess I’ve disliked the way the bands respond to them.  When I walked in last night, Sing it Loud’s keyboardist Benjamin Peterson was shouting, “All right, you motherfuckers!  I want to see a motherfucking mosh pit right now!”

Listen to Sing it Loud.  Two phrases that don’t come to mind: “motherfuckers” and “mosh pits.”

Besides having my ribs squeezed and my ears blistered by the squeals of eighteen-year-old-tops girls and boys, it was a decent show.  The two acts I caught played well, amped the crowd up, and used the basement atmosphere of Station 4 to really release some energy.  Proper circles of the Internet buzzed when this tour was announced, saying that The Rocket Summer should have been headlining instead of opening, and I agree.  The Rocket Summer is by far a better closing act than Forever the Sickest Kids, based on sound alone — it’s a little more mellow, crafted, and penultimate than dance tunes like FTSK staples like Breakdown and Woah Oh!.

I recommend seeing them — clearly.  This was my second time seeing Sing it Loud, my third seeing The Rocket Summer, and my second seeing Forever the Sickest Kids.  If you’re into their tunes, they don’t disappoint with their live shows — and if you’re not, then don’t go.  Their crowds will always be the same, they’ll probably keep playing the same finales, and if it didn’t work for you once, it probably won’t work for you again.

Cheers.

Links:

Forever the Sickest Kids: Website • MySpace • Facebook • Last.fm

The Rocket Summer: Website • MySpace • Last.fm

Sing it Loud: MySpace • Last.fm

THE BAND

The Strawberry Preserved is the worst music you’ve ever heard.

Wait; let me try that again.

The Strawberry Preserved is the best music you’ve ever heard.

To be fair, either one is probably going to give this review the same feeling; as a fan of the avant-garde, I have to tip my hat toward the first.

In the band’s own words, taken from its MySpace page: “Formed in June of 2008, The Strawberry Preserved is an [sic] sexualized explosion of noise and an intoxicating celebration of freedom. Composed of an ever-changing group of cosmic pirates, disciples of funk, and the bastard children of Tom Waits and Grace Slick, the jam band performs a variety of different styles with a variety of different instruments, none of which they are particularly familiar with.”

The Strawberry Preserved, headquartered as I am in Saint Paul, Minnesota, is a ten-piece jam band — or were they six pieces?  Seven?  For all I know, it might be one person that makes all the music.  It sounds just as likely to be a Polyphonic Spree-sized free-for-all as a Trent Reznor solo/collaborative/whatever exactly he does project.

The most confusing group I’ve ever come across, they’ve managed to put out an EP and an album with little to no structure at all.

Let me put it this way:  If I had a younger sister, she’d probably play guitar.  She would play it either because I coerced her into being musical, or just to spite the fact that I can’t carry a tune.  She would probably start forming bands when she was ten years old and play the most god-awful music I’d ever heard, and as her older brother, I would have to clap and tell her she did a good job.  At times, that’s what the Preserved, as they fondly call themselves, feels like:  I hate this, because it sounds like a ten year old’s idea of good music, but I have to love it.

At the same time, there’s an aura about the Preserved.  There’s something genuinely likable about them, even if no one knows what it is.  Maybe it’s the art-rock atmosphere; maybe it’s the hometown pride; maybe there’s something. . .good about it.

THE ALBUM

In the summer of 2008, The Strawberry Preserved put out an EP ( Drop’n Jam, recorded in the woods on a cassette player and full of instruments the band had no idea how to play beforehand ), which was both horrifying and catchy.  I wrote up a review for them to use in their publicity, and part of it read, “Let me tell you something about The Strawberry Preserved… They’re going to explode. … I mean that in the way that you can only mean when talking about a musical collective that’s so full of hallucinogenic drugs and jam band ideas that sooner or later they’re going to go into the forest with a can of gas and try to play it with a campfire.”

The final line of my review: “… I’ve got to give Drop’n Jam this: I’m looking forward to the next release.”

Look no further.  Earlier this year work was completed on the Preserved’s debut full-length, Fear and Loafing, which project puppetmaster Robert Fones has referred to as “a musical abortion.”

When you’re surprised to hear a guitar on a supposed rock album, it makes for an interesting ride.

The recording is once again incredibly lo-fi.  It sounds more polished than the cassette-player-in-the-woods method, but not by much.  It’s still rough, raw, speckled with interference, and true-to-form Preserved.  There was no warm-up for the vocalist, I’d assume.  The second track, Fuck You, Bangladesh, can be judged by its cover and opens with a cackle and a howl of the same: “Fuck yoooooooou, Baaaaaaaangladeeeeeeeesh!”  Someone is clearly just tapping a hi-hat throughout the track and calling it drumming.  Laughter that would have made Ken Kesey proud dances across the all-too-long minute and forty-seven seconds of the song.

And yet, there’s some bizarre merit in the work.  I mean that sincerely.  Sure, this six-ten-whatever-piece basement band probably got their instruments and put this album together in, tops, two days — but at times there’s something intriguing, something valuable.  In the song quoted above, the Preserved still sounds like it’s channeling my imaginary ten-year-old sister, but there are also hints of Jimi Hendrix, of real focus.

Listen: In 1971, Mort Garson took up the pseudonym Lucifer and released Black Mass, an LP chock-full of occult instrumentals and composed entirely on a Moog.  I have friends who spent a decent part of the ’70s dropping a whole lot of acid late at night, killing all the lights, and turning that album all the way up.  Sure it was terrifying, they said, but it was a thrill.

My love for Fear and Loafing is very similar to that, sans the tripping.  I’m not one for hallucinogenic drugs myself, but I still think this album is both one hell of a ride and absolutely terrifying.  Listening to it in public has turned heads, almost none of which were approving.  Playing parts of it on Hamline Radio has garnered sour looks from c0-hosts.  I would never put it in my CD player if I was trying to concentrate on anything.

But that’s the rub: I would put it in.

I’m not going to break this album down track-by-track.  That would be a waste of time.  And I’m not going to say you should rush out and fork over your money for a copy, because you shouldn’t ( besides, you have to get it from Robert Fones himself, and he’s hard to catch ).  If 200 people read this review, at least 197 of them will absolutely abhor The Strawberry Preserved, I guarantee it.  That’s the nature of this beast.

But for those last three people, this is really something.  It’s daring, it’s stimulating, and, thank god, it’s unique.

Cheers.

Album Preview: Fuck You, Bangladesh

Links: MySpace • Facebook • Drop’n Jam EP Download (free)

The Drug Budget - No Contest EP

The Band

The Drug Budget and I go back to the summer of 2007, when three of them were known for being members of The Angry Mothers, a local act that didn’t always have the best of relations with venues.  An incident involving the Varsity Theater and a backing band of twenty people holding toothbrushes comes to mind, but that’s a story for another post.

The first time I saw vocalist Vain Mainstream on stage, he’d wrapped a belt around his head and swore his name was Axl Rose.  Lead guitarist Linus Kangas played long after his bedtime.  While the rest of the band had packed their equipment into cases, he remained on stage giving his whammy bar an extensive CPR attempt before the eyes of a bewildered, intrigued crowd.

The Mothers disbanded at some point between then and now, but reputation and antics aside, it can’t be denied that they knew how to play rock music.

Lucky for all of us, fate played its cards and three former Mothers ( with the addition of drummer Tom Tier, of likewise local band High Hopes ) reformed into a group that now goes by the name of The Drug Budget, who actually premiered on your humble host’s radio show this past January.

Although they’ve been at it only a little under a year, the summer saw them signing with Dead Sound Music and August 22 marked the release of their debut double-EP, No Contest/The Nerve.

The Show

The CD release itself took place at The Hexagon Bar in Minneapolis, and an all-star lineup turned out in support.  High Hopes opened strong, warming Tom Tier up for his closing set with the Budget; Power of 2 took the stage with a post-rock chemistry that took everyone by surprised; Twin Cities pride and joys The No-Nos dropped in third, combining a Bikini Kill atmosphere with a glam rock stage presence; and veteran performers Economy Team closed the opening run.  Although it was pushing one in the morning at that point, Mainstream and crew took their places and delivered a phenomenal early-morning set, running through most if not all of the track list for the namesake of the evening.

I’ve always enjoyed Vain and Linus as performers.  Linus is friendly both on- and off-stage in his performance and his behavior.  Frequently during songs he’ll step down into the crowd, dancing with the rest of us as he rails away at a solo.  Vain Mainstream commands a stage in his own bizarre way, and I mean that with the best of intentions.  For example: He wore a three-piece suit to the release show, stripping away parts of it as stage time ran down, and shook his hips so long that Shakira would’ve gotten tired before he did.

A solid start to a solid album — or albums, as it were.

The Album

Looking over a copy of No Contest/The Nerve, you might wonder where to start.  Instead of opening from the side, the double-disc paper case is designed to open from the bottom for either album art.  This was intentional, I discovered.

Vain Mainstream and Devlin Andersen, owner of Dead Sound Music, wanted to put out a pair of discs with no beginning and no end.  Even looking to the spine of the case gives up no answers.  Where one title is upright, the other is upside-down, and vice versa when the case is flipped.  Andersen was pleased I noticed this, and explained that that was why the event was called a “double EP release,” not a “CD release.”  He and Mainstream say that although the discs are packaged together, they should be seen as completely different releases, coming from completely different places.

Aesthetically and stylistically, it’s a provocative choice.  In a day when digital media are rapidly fazing out terms like EP and LP and a person can carry thousands of CDs in her or his pocket, I find it refreshing to come across artists that care about every detail of their work, right down to the packaging.

Wherever I started, I was impressed.

The Drug Budget are a humble folk, downplaying their talents and getting nervous before performances despite how many fans they’ve accumulated.  So when I sat down to listen to The Nerve/No Contest, I wasn’t prepared for the quality of what came at me.  I like to think that my reaction would have been much the same even if I hadn’t known the band beforehand.

Vain Mainstream growls his way through 12 tracks of cynicism, religion, and politics, but nothing is above an average listener’s head.  I say this because I know bum squat about politics and I can even understand what’s going on here.  Some songs are stories, some are musings, some are just plain humor — the opening line of standout track Nancy Pelosi’s Dead says, “You can’t be pro-life if you’re not a vegetarian” –, but all have been crafted well beyond the quality of most low-budget local bands.

While The Drug Budget is a rock group, the sound isn’t outrageous.  I won’t call them hard rock, but their sound definitely has some oomph behind it.  The instruments meld with each other instead of fighting each other for attention, the latter being a problem with a lot of narrow-release albums, yet something has stayed to preserve that basement-recording feel and personality.  I’m a fan of being able to hear those nuances that tell you how much control the band had over its own work, and there are a number of them in this release.

The Budget plays around with style.  Where tracks like The Cost of Living and No Parking are relatively minimalist, Bogus Diagnosis is saturated with contributions from each of the four members.  There’s no clear-cut star performer on the album — everyone has his time.  In talking with Mainstream, I’m under the impression that that’s important to them, and it’s easy to tell.  Mainstream’s vocal style has him singing lower than most vocalists I can think of, but he’s not drowned out by the rest of the band — you can understand him, a trait that’s going more and more the way of the dodo.  Kangas’ guitar work is crisp, Tier’s drumming provides a driving force, and bassist Lorin Nelson isn’t at all pushed to the side.

The word I would pin to this release is satisfying.  Stylistically, it’s interesting.  Lyrically, it’s close to brilliance ( No Parking, American Standard, and ten others ).  In terms of audio, it’s not overpowering and it’s not boring for a second.

I admit my bias in writing about The Drug Budget, but I think that in trying to be impartial as I can be, I’m still in love with this band.  If you’re in the Minneapolis area, I recommend catching one of their shows at any cost ( cost almost always being fairly minimal, honestly ).  They’re personable, talented, humble, and just happy to be here, and I at least am beyond thrilled to have them.

Cheers.

Links: Myspace • Facebook • Twitter

Have you ever come across one of those music review sites that you’re kind of interested in, but when you start digging around for whoever’s behind it, there’s not a lot to be found?  Maybe not, but it’s happened to me — I’m digging someone’s opinion and all of a sudden I can’t figure out who exactly “someone” is.

I’m not that chap.

My name is Lewis.  Right now I’m majoring in communication studies at Hamline University in Saint Paul, Minnesota, and music is one of the few things I have a real grasp on, despite my complete lack of training in any aspect of it.  I’m short, thin, and am occasionally picked up and carried long distances as training for friends’ future military escapades — and no, that’s not a joke.

Behind my reviews will be my untrained opinion on music.  I’m not an authority; I’m an author.

Opinions are what I have, and I’m proud of them.  I won’t, therefore, hide behind the anonymity allowed by the Internet.  While I definitely understand the appeal, I think that if you’re coming here to read what I have to think about things, you may as well know a bit about me.

I like to write, climb, bike, edit, and network.  Other people make me a person.

I’m not going to droll on more about who I am, but I am going to say that there’s an About section here.  So hi.  I hope we can be companions in this — and if we can’t, I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay.

Cheers.