This past Friday, Swedish indie rock quartet Shout Out Louds released their fifth full length album Ease My Mind, perhaps their best release to date. Adding the addictive, warm feelings of nostalgia to the wild, youthful energy they began with years ago, many tracks from the new release are colorful and exuberant, but now feel solid and cohesive. “Porcelain” is a wonderful example of just how much they’ve grown and improved stylistically over the years, made even stronger with a wistful, yet incredibly powerful lyrical narrative. The track is mainly about being an outside eye to relationships that “lack stability,” but with its bright, clean energy, is filled with a sense of hope – lead singer Adam Olenius puts an arm around the hurt in half-solidarity and half-shock, consoling them in saying “it’s a shame/ we can work it through.” Those feelings of unity, sympathy, and love is what drives the track – as well as the band as a whole – forward, and most importantly, it sounds more than genuine.
Through nostalgic, lo-fi dream pop and insanely clever lyrical wit, Alvvays’s self-titled debut album mostly explored the many details and nuances of a two-person relationship, touching on the serious as well as the more jocund. Though built on an aggressive and striking foundation, the debut still evoked the sun-drenched, bubbly mood of retro pop, as well as included unique instrumental flourishes to add moments of delicacy, the amalgamation of its contrasting tones of hard and soft being Molly Rankin’s breathy, and at times, beautifully dreary vocals. Following their signature style of hiding dark, visceral lyrics under the facade of bright, shimmering instrumentals, Alvvays’s sophomore album Antisocialites doesn’t stray too far from the path they’ve paved, but does change its lyrical tone. Mostly gone are the narratives that touch on dependence on another’s touch; instead, the Toronto four-piece explores the ideas of separation and escapism, at the same time fleshing out their jangly, colorful sound, resulting in a saccharine sweet, yet remarkably tenacious collection of tracks without the sugar crash.
The 60’s are still very much alive within Alvvays’s music, but the way in which they alter its components to fit their particular aesthetic almost seems like a parody on the genre itself; the fact that such somber topics lurk underneath shiny, bright instrumentals (see: the drowning of a loved one in the peppy tune “Next Of Kin” on Alvvays) is a brilliant reconstruction of a period of time where the music always seemed just a little too happy. Regardless, the ways in which they do evoke the style are wonderful – Kerri MacLellan’s fuzzy day-glo piano that introduces opener “In Undertow” beautifully swells and grows to provide ample room for Rankin’s velvet smooth voice and accompanying bass line to grab you by the shoulders and pull you into their world. The almost eerie doo-wop of “Not My Baby” house murky instrumentals and Rankin’s sinuous vocals weave around them, the flourishes of synth shimmering just underneath the surface, the bridge evoking a glimmering, refulgent light hovering under a pellucid body of water. “Plimsoll Punks” is more upbeat, cut up into equal moments of unrest and clarity, rebelliousness and frustration. Apparently, the track is about Rankin’s frustrations with being in the public eye and resisting the idea of authenticity in music, leading to the idea that we’re all just “punks” underneath our civilized disguises.
The most wonderful aspect of Molly Rankin and Alec O’Hanley’s lyrical narratives is the fact that they feel lost in time – they’re relatable to almost anyone, regardless of generation. Even though they have the tendency to occasionally reference items and ideas that irrevocably belong in the past (“Archie, Marry Me”’s mention of breadmakers, for instance), the seamless way it sits within the rest of the track only adds to their immense lyrical charm, which is even more pronounced in Antisocialites. “Lollipop (Ode to Jim)” reverts back to the the atmosphere of pinstriped, sherbet serving dance parlors of the 60’s, is one of the most effervescent, Rankin seemingly interrupting her own ebullient tone in her mile-a-minute vocals. “In Undertow” has Rankin exploring the feelings of doubt and insecurity in a relationship, but without really caring if they resolve it or not – the fact that she asks him “rhetorically” if they can be saved as well as the repeated epiphany of “there’s no turning back” during the chorus and the breakdown points to a woman that wishes to explore isolation for a while. “Dreams Tonite” is the experience of seeing someone you once thought you knew perfectly in a completely different light, its hazy, delicate tone making it one of the most earnest, unpretentious tracks in Alvvays’s career. “Not My Baby” provides a moment of epiphany for Rankin, where she explains that she “traded [her] rose colored shades for a wide lens,” focusing on more realistic ideas that include retreating back into her own subconscious instead of voicing her thoughts aloud in the past.
It’s true that Rankin spends more time emphasizing the feelings of separation, escapism, and isolation in this album – seemingly in that exact order – but the last two tracks gradually introduce another character, close to Alvvays’s infamous marriage-hating, alimony fearing “Archie.” in “Saved By A Waif,” Rankin criticizes a faceless “Adrian” among surf guitar and bombastic drums, claiming he “wanted to get it together” but doesn’t, and has no plans to do so in the future. And Rankin won’t wait for him either, apparently. However, it’s clear that Rankin still has a soft spot for whoever it was she was trying to cast aside for ninety percent of the album, because closer “Forget About Life” has her inviting him back to forget about their troubles for a while “under this flickering light,” going back to the youthful excursions introduced in the debut – images of sitting alone with someone that knew you well, drinking awful wine and talking deep into the night, but you can’t help feeling that the relationship that once was has since dwindled, resulting in a bittersweet, nostalgic tone that feels agonizingly tangible for those that can relate all too well.
If Alvvays‘s pragmatic, yet still carefree approach was made up of primary colors, the softness of everything in Antisocialites point to something more pastel in appearance – but don’t attribute the candy like color palette to something without substance; despite its initial sugary sensation, its earnest, unyielding aftertaste houses something fervid and tireless, something that can only continue to grow in strength as Alvvays continues to enhance their unique, unparalleled sound.
Within an hour of discovering NY-based artist Gus Dapperton, we had devoured every track in his repertoire, watching their live versions and his music videos over and over, and growing more and more enchanted with each listen, wondering aloud why we weren’t in the know when he first emerged. His style is intelligent, esoteric, and breathtakingly surreal, with an equal emphasis on how his work is seen as well as how it sounds, his biggest single “I’m Just Snacking” becoming a short-film exploring his two main inspirations of cinema and heartache. Yellow and Such, his debut EP released last month, features that track as well as “Miss Glum and the Pursuit of Falling,” which shows a more eclectic side, piecing together different techniques and moods into one cohesive track. There’s a colorful, yet muted menagerie of sounds – pinpricks and swelling flutters of synth, soft swells of melancholic guitar, an orchestral interlude that sounds as if it’s on a rocking boat, swaying from side to side – all floating underneath Dapperton’s echoed, ominous vocals. There’s inspirations from various 80’s and 90’s artists for sure, but the way in which he takes them in and produces something fresh and clean is stunning, and we can’t stop listening.
Gus Dapperton’s debut EP Yellow and Such is out now.
King Krule, also known as Archy Marshall, has always had an intimidating demeanor that can steer people away the first time they see him – perhaps it’s the thick English accent or the audible sneer in his voice even when he’s singing about longing love, or perhaps from his intricate compositions that shouldn’t be able to exist hand in hand with his lyrics. Regardless, his unique style has been expressed in two very different releases: his brilliant, guitar-driven debut 6 Feet Beneath the Moon and the distant sounding, electronica laced A New Place 2 Drown (released under his real name). “Czech One,” the newest from Marshall, sounds like an amalgamation of the two, taking the crisp, moody vocals and marrying them with brooding drums and smoky, seductive saxaphone. He sings through the haze of James Blake esque choral interludes that “Loverboy, you drowned too quick/ you’re fading out of sight,” proving further that there’s a soft center beneath his sharp exterior, and that pain still gets through.
Since his official departure from Real Estate last year, Matt Mondanile has had more time to focus on Ducktails, his stunning solo project, with more opportunity to flesh out his dreamy, nostalgia driven aesthetic, the first bouts of which were heard in 2015’s St. Catherine. Mondanile recently announced the follow up to St. Catherine, and detailed the upcoming release of his sixth full-lengh LP Jersey Devil, which, judging from the teasers, will take a more minimal, retro approach. In “Light a Candle,” the second single from the new album, phaser-like synth travels through Mondanile’s quiet vocals like sparks of electricity, making his desires to “burn this city to the ground/ and dance upon the ashes” with his beloved in order to finally be alone with each other sound both crazed and incredibly romantic all at once.
Grizzly Bear have always made the sort of stylistically complex music that’s been hard to place in any one genre or even accurately convey to another person – they’re just… Grizzly Bear. Sure, you could spend an hour explaining what exactly chamber and baroque pop are, but the only way to truly understand Grizzly Bear is to listen. Their true charm lies not in their individual talents, but the way in which they bring those talents together while writing, recording, and performing, as if they exist as four heads resting comfortably on top of a large, singular body, complete with a harpsichord under one arm and a guitar in the other. Having since evolved from the Ed Droste fronted debut Horn of Plenty in 2004 to a four member group, the band has played around with different aesthetics throughout the years, afterwards with each member taking the time to understand their own style and purpose in the band as well as society. And now, five years since 2012’s Shields, they’ve returned with a stunning and, as is their want, an amazingly complex, textured album flawlessly conveying the process of decay, epiphany, and, partly, the slow, grueling process of rebirth, projecting those concepts inward into the self as well as out into the world around it.
Forget for a moment that Painted Ruins’s opener “Wasted Acres” is about riding an all terrain vehicle through a field and instead focus on it’s haunting repeated lyric sung by Daniel Rossen: “Were you even listening?” Although the rest of the song feels awfully esoteric and unfamiliar to the point of uneasiness, it’s an incredible strategy for the overall flow of the album – Rossen’s hollow tone mixed with the sensation of brooding, fantastical drums is the invitation into another one of Grizzly Bear’s intricately designed, heavily textured worlds, and he proceeds to ask you if you’ve ever taken the time to listen to your own desires, if you’re listening to the voices within yourself in the midst of a changing environment, begging you to tell him what you need, to trust him. Rossen repeatedly acts as your direct link connecting their world with the one in which you are familiar, being for the most part direct, outspoken, and hopeful, while Droste acts as the constant, incessant internal noise, the one that you feel you’ve battled and dealt with time and time again, even if you’ve never had to endure the pain of a breakup, the pain of not fully understanding yourself, or even just the pain of existing in a morally corrupt society lead by an equally corrupt leader, the last bit unfortunately being more accurate today than ever.
Despite the emotional weight of Droste’s contribution, Painted Ruins nonetheless explores the idea of re-enamoring yourself after the process of breaking apart, and is repeatedly explored in the lyrics, and we hear Droste’s laments of decay at an almost equal par with Rossen’s hopes of rebirth. Subsequently, there’s a wonderful sense of tension as well as a sense of resilience from enduring that tension, each song sounding like a catalyst for some sort of meaningful epiphany. As a result, Painted Ruins feels warm to the touch, housing a smoldering, aggressive nature begging for the chance to be released. Their instrumentals ricochet off each other while Droste and Rossen act as a tag team vocally, “Mourning Sound” being a wonderful example of their powerful dynamic. Droste sets the tone with his deep drawl, lamenting his mistakes and the slow decay of his love (“Let love age/ And watch it burn out and die”) and Rossen meanders in afterwards, riding the wave of bright guitar strums and electric synth, awoken to sounds reminiscent of wartime chaos, including “dogs,” “distant shots,” and “passing trucks.” It’s the first of the songs mostly dealing with decay and ruin, followed by the somber “Four Cypresses” and the idea of slow deterioration, the cypresses themselves directly symbolizing death as well as the life that came before it. Rossen repeats twice within the track that “it’s chaos, but it works,” which seems to be a catch-all phrase for their entire discography, from the quiet calamity of Yellow House to the colorful, bombastic Veckatimest, to the textured, complex Shields and now to this aggressive, brooding masterpiece.
“Three Rings” is the first to question the emotions long since buried deep inside, Droste asking through the midst of experimental, industrial sounding instrumentals if this is “the way it is” before sinking into a somber, teary-eyed “Ready, Able”-esque bridge of desperation and anguish, begging his beloved “don’t you ever leave me,” promising he can “make it better,” to make himself better too, if he can fit it in. It’s one of the handful of tracks that address the concept of epiphany, and as a result, the instrumentals usually begin with Christopher Bear’s relatively minimal chunky percussions and Chris Taylor’s disjointed bass plucks, only to later be met with a wave of techniques and styles that wash over to fill the space. Another, “Cut-out,” one of our absolute favorites on the album, also addresses the idea of letting go, to carve away at the parts causing you pain and eviscerate that “invading spore” within your body, “inhale your older self,” and move on. Instrumentally, it’s also one of the most interesting, beginning with a beautiful, subtle guitar melody and Droste’s voice swelling and deflating with ease, Rossen later acting as the chorus to his lead narrative, the voice of reason and action.
“Neighbors”’s grandiose composition and heartbreaking narrative hints at the idea that pain and strife are everlasting and seemingly impossible to prevent despite the human ideal to move on, perhaps even claiming it as part of the process to rebirth. Droste lamenting in drawn out breaths that “face to face/ We’ll watch our bodies break,” while Rossen lurks underneath with his own lucid tone, agreeing that yes, they “left [him] broken” and “helpless.” Closer “Sky Took Hold” is also one of the most stunning on the album, as it utilizes the power of Droste’s voice in the context of soliloquy, arguably where he shines most. After a soft, gentle introduction, the metallic synth that follow resemble five concentrated lightning strikes, which Droste uses as fuel to propel his voice higher until it seems to dissolve into the ether. At the end, he confides in the listener in the battlefield of instrumentals: “Since I was a young boy it was always there/ Inside me growing none of it seems fair/ I’ve grown to accept it, let it take the stage/ And leave me helpless, watching far away.” It’s a moment of clarity despite the noise it unravels itself in, and serves as a brilliant conclusion to an already dense, beautifully esoteric work.
Although the album contains the feelings of self-doubt and unease, the sense of hope and the chance for rebirth always seems to sit idly by, even sometimes embedded in the fibers of its complex instrumentals. In this, the image of the title’s painted ruins comes to mind, in both its negative and positive connotations; on one hand, the process of painting over something that has shattered seems fruitless, but on the other, it also symbolizes the act of moving on, taking into account your pain and your flaws and using them as the foundation for something even more beautiful than it was before. And sometimes, internal noise and external noise has the ability to cancel each other out, leaving in its wake something calm and lovely, and Painted Ruins is a fine example of just that, perhaps even one of the finest of the year.
Back in late June, California based quartet Battery Point released Star, the follow up EP to last year’s self-titled debut. Despite the album’s brevity, the three tracks it houses hold enough power, desire, and anguish to fill the space, evoking everything from the shoegaze, indie emo, and alternative rock. “Wish” and “Clear” both brood and glare on the surface due to its instrumentals, but also house a soft vulnerability, both from the intertwining of Jessica Severns’s bright, piercing vocals and Sergio Esparza’s deep, brooding tone. We can’t help but hear Smiths undertones in closer “Wonder,” perhaps due to the wonderful juxtaposition of Severns’s flinty voice and the fast, unrelenting drums and steady, expertly balanced guitars. Hopefully this will lead to something bigger from the quartet in the future – they clearly have much more to offer the world of indie rock.
Brooklyn based indie group Mons Vi have returned with “Divina,” the newest addition to their unique repertoire, spanning everything from soft bedroom pop to alternative rock. They’ve released quite a few tracks over the past year or so, but “Divina” is the first to stray from their already versatile aesthetic, with bright, clean guitar plucks, textured effects, and a vocal exchange between vocalists Matthew Hershoff and Adrianne Gonzalez in both English and Spanish. Although it seems to be an argument about the anguish in their relationship, ironically, the moment their voices intertwine, it becomes less hostile and more enchanting.
Still Woozy is the project of Oakland based Sven Gamsky, a relatively new artist in the world of indie electronic pop with just two singles so far – the heavily textured “Vacation,” as well as “Cooks,” released just a few weeks ago. The latter is equally textured, with soft, colorful synth effects introduced at every corner. Gamsky’s voice sways and swells with the instrumentals, becoming a deep, breathy sigh that transforms into a commanding, layered drawl at the chorus, expressing a saccharine sweet narrative about the little things, like waiting for the one you love to come home for the night.
Toronto quartet Alvvays have released the second stunning track from their upcoming sophomore album, following the already released “In Undertow,” which signaled a change in tone from their debut album – quieter, but housing a powerful, potent energy within. “Dreams Tonite” strengthens that theory with its hazy, delicate tone and gentle vocals from frontwoman Molly Rankin, as well as its simple, but emotional narrative. Heartfelt, sincere, and unpretentious, the track slowly and beautifully exudes waves of synth as it plays, the auditory equivalent to a bleeding heart that always seems to want what it can’t have. Rankin wearily asks “who starts a fire just to let it go out” and later, “who builds a wall just to let it fall down” and we can’t help but agree with her. It’s a moment of solidarity for those that seem to alternate between caring and thinking far too much, a ballad for the lovesick and weary.
Antisocialities will be released on September 8th.
