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White Lies – To Lose My Life (2009)

Rising from the ashes of happy-go-lucky indie rock outfit Fear of Flying, White Lies are this year’s token Joy Division tribute band. Following in the footsteps of Interpol and Editors, they’ve been hailed as “the heirs to Ian Curtis’ gloom-pop throne” by the Guardian. Or something like that. Now, I’ve been spending quite a bit of time with this album and I’m finding all these Joy Division comparisons rather puzzling, because honestly White Lies sound absolutely nothing like them. There was more to Joy Division than Ian Curtis’ bleak lyrics and dark Jim Morrison-esque singing. There was a raw, punk rock type of energy behind the music that elevated Curtis’ unorthodox moodiness on a whole other level. White Lies’ sound is on a completely opposite spectrum. To Lose My Life‘s production is crisp-clean, the hooks and choruses are fucking huge and the massive power chords are more akin to arena-rock than anything else. There’s nothing punk rock, or even post-punk, about this lot. And I couldn’t care less because this album is rock-solid.

Yep, their lyrics might reference death, murder, suicide and all sorts of depressing shit, but this is a band that wants to reach THE MASSES, no questions about it. Also, I feel like pointing out that the frontman’s over-the-top Ian McCulloch/Anthony Hegarty singing hybrid makes it a bit hard to take the lyrical content too seriously, so fuck all of that. Let’s just embrace the bombast of it all, because there songs are BOMBASTIC. The album is book-ended by two ridiculously-epic songs that show exactly how White Lies are more suited for stadiums than most, if not all of the current post-punk revival bands they’re being compared to. Opener “Death” grabs you instantly with its grand, cinematic atmosphere. The song builds up slowly around an infectious bassline, new wavey synths and sparse reverbed chords. The climax hits you like a ton of bricks as stadium-sized guitars drop in and crush everything in sight for an epic finale. Meanwhile, closer “The Price of Love” takes the band’s penchant for the grandiose to a whole other level with a mix of Spaghetti-western guitar chords and escalating strings all leading to a massive world-conquering chorus. These songs are huge, like U2-huge.

In between these two monsters are 8 songs that could all be released as singles. That is how pop-friendly these guys are. Recent bands like Interpol can be heard as reference points once in a while, but the resemblance is subdued rather quickly by the album’s sheer amount of familiar pop rock hooks. The title track’s fuzzy, menacing bass sets-up a rather tense mood that eventually turns into fist-pumping fun with a big cheeseball chorus (“Let’s grow old together! And die at the same time!”) meaty power chords and another guest appearance from the string section during the bridge. “Unfinished Business” brings back the opening track’s build-up feel with goth-like organ and scratchy guitar slowly leading to an explosive pop-rock finale. Elsewhere, “Nothing to Give” channels Ocean Rain-era Echo and the Bunnymen by putting the string-section to the forefront and the result is rather solid.

As you’ve probably gathered by now, there’s nothing terribly new or innovative about White Lies, the singing and lyrics are corny and overly dramatic, and yes they do take cues from a lot of 80′s British bands (though not the ones you’re thinking of), but it’s hard to deny the hookiness and sheer immediacy of this 10-track debut. These guys are ready for the big venues and unlike a lot of their peers, they’ve got the songs to back up their U2-sized ambitions. Now let’s just hope they didn’t blow their wad on this one album.

7.5/10

Malajube – Labyrinthes (2009)

Since their 2004 debut Le Compte Complet, Malajube have become a household name in the world of francophone indie rock. The singles off their sophomore album Trompe L’Oeil got heavy radio airplay, the videos were aired constantly all over Musique Plus (French Canadian MTV) and some of their songs even appeared in cellphone commercials. Basically these lads found themselves in quite a comfortable position for a band with such an INDIE sound. Blurred-out vocals with inaudible lyrics, garage rock guitars, fuzzy keyboards, sound textures often bordering on the psychedelic. For fuck’s sake, the Pitchfork review for Trompe L’Oeil manages to name-drop Clap Your Hands Say Yeah!, Broken Social Scene, Wolf Parade and Animal Collective. None of these references make a whole lot of sense, but still, the Malajube sound isn’t exactly mainstream. Thankfully frontman René Levesque, drummer Patrick Huard and the rest of the band always showed a knack for delightful pop hooks, elevating Malajube above the rest of their INDIE SCUM peers. So all of this crap brings us to the third Malajube album, Labyrinthes.

I’m gonna say this right now, this is Malajube’s Difficult Third Album. These dudes have been listening to a shitload of prog-rock and it shows. Maybe too much? UH OH. Opening track “Ursuline” gives you a good preview of things to come: it clocks in at 7 minutes and offers a bunch of rhythm changes, crazy-ass drumming, eerie piano and a “Whoa, dude” psychedelic conclusion with spaced-out harmonies, bells and backwards vocals. This isn’t the same fun-loving indie pop band that got comically taped up to walls in the video for “Le Métronome”. This stuff is SERIOUS BUSINESS. First single “Porté Disparu” puts the piano to the forefront and shows that despite their recent move to Prog-City, the guys for Malajoob can still write a hook. Really good piano-pop number with shiny guitars and a lovely, melodic chorus courtesy of lead singer Robert Charlebois. At first I was confused by the band’s decision to put out this track as the first single, but it’s really the best song on there, no questions. It’s not as instantly-catchy/loveable as “Montréal, -40°”, but it is a fine, fiiine song.

“333″ brings back the prog-rawkage of the opening track in a big way. The song starts off as your usual Malajube rocker and then settles right into an acoustic breakdown before proceeding to kick you square in the balls with ridiculously-epic riffing reminiscent of Muse. Of course the song ends with a drugged-out outro filled with dreamy surf guitars. DIG IT, SUCKA (Booker T, 2003). “Les Collemboles” delivers the goods using the same kind of premise. It starts off as a solid little song that wouldn’t feel out of place on Trompe L’Oeil and suddenly shifts right into skull-crushing prog-metal guitar annihilation. And then there’s the rest of the album… which turns out to be rather forgettable.

Despite the heroic solo tacked at the end, “Casablanca” pretty much sucks. It sounds like Malajube doing a shitty radio jingle, or cheesy elevator music, I don’t know. There’s a couple of acoustic-guitar-driven tracks near the end of the album that kind of sound like cheap Radiohead in places. In a puzzling move, the production of “Hérésie” actually highlights the lead singer’s vocals, exposing some rather-shitty lyrics in the process. With a title like “Dragon de Glace” (Ice Dragon), I expected some epic rocking shit, but the song turns out to be flat as hell. I honestly think these guys thought they could get away with putting these mediocre songs on the album by adding CRAZY GUITAR OUTROS to all of them, but yeah, they remain mediocre songs.

In the end, Labyrinthes is a solid, but uneven third effort from the French-Canadian indie rawkers. “Ursuline”, “Porté Disparu”, “333″, “Les Collemboles” are definitely keepers and show that the band can thrive outside of their usual comfort zone (catchy, radio-friendly indie pop). Despite some serious clunkers here and there, fans of the band should enjoy the album. Meanwhile, newcomers should stick to Le Compte Complet or Trompe L’Oeil.

7/10

10cc – 10cc (1973)

Buncha smartasses, 10cc are. “Ooh, look at us! We’re so meta! We’re self-consciously subverting the popular musical forms of yore while slyly paying homage to them and updating them for a 1970s context!” Be honest, if some douche described his band like that, you probably wouldn’t give their album a spin. But take it from a Z-level Internet critic, 10cc’s self-titled debut kicks my ass in a bunch of different ways, and it should have no problem kicking your ass, too.

The band’s M.O. is to essentially do to 50s and 60s pop what Frank Zappa did to jazz and modern classical; subvert its form and content while it still being an oblique homage, albeit an idiosyncratic one. But while Zappa loved making dick jokes, pissing people off, being an asshole and the like, 10cc play the material close to the chest, amplifying the subversion tenfold. All the expected ingredients are here: doo-wop songs, complete with bass guy (provided by drummer Kevin Godley), harmony-laden Beach Boys rave-ups, “Leader of the Pack”-style doomed-teen-angel story with swelling strings. If it was in a jukebox circa 1964, it’s probably on this album on one form or another.

But these songs aren’t just exercises in meta. These songs bring the rock. In true 70s form, all these pop forms are filtered through some kind of effects pedal. This ranges from subtle processing, such as on “Sand in My Face”‘s extra-twangy steel guitar licks, to all out progification on album opener and best track “Rubber Bullets,” where everything from the screamin’ guitar to the popping percussion of the intro has been tweaked. The song, which is essentially a retelling of “Jailhouse Rock” as performed by the Beach Boys on prog-rock steroids, is so catchy it’s fucking maddening. There are hooks crammed into every nook in cranny on this track. Those fucking Brits picked up on this song’s awesomeness and made it number fucking one in the UK. No wonder Sparks bailed from the States to settle in jolly ol’ England.

Here’s the major problem with the album: you won’t find anything original on here melody-wise. Every single cadence has been as time-tested as your mother’s apple pie and stolen from the playbooks of rock legends past. But 10cc get away with such thievery by warping the sounds just enough to make it sound original. And hooky. And cool. The instrumental tones used here manage to be obscenely fuzzy and distorted while maintaining an air of pop-friendliness. All this would be worth sweet fuck all if the instrumental passages weren’t worth hearing, but fortunately, they are. The solos on “Rubber Bullets” and “Johnny Don’t Do It” make me wish that I actually knew how to play guitar instead of having to lie about it on dates. The instrumental passage on “Speed Kills” recalls an amped-up, progged-out Queen, if you can imagine such a beast.

This motherfucker loses steam towards the end, even though “The Hospital Song” is fucking scary and hilarious simultaneously (though it lacks sweet tones). No tracks truly offends, you just stop paying attention after a while because the second half can’t hold a candle to the first. Well fuck that shit, this record’s awesome and deserves nothing less than classic status and a spot in your collection. If you like smart music, or are a fan of 60s pop with a 70s twist, get on this shit ASAP.

9/10

The New Pornographers – Mass Romantic (2000)

The New Pornographers were one of the first notable Canadian supergroups/collective-type bands of the 21th century. They pretty much kickstarted the whole trend of gathering a bunch of bearded Canadian dudes and Feist-lookalikes to make indie pop music for the MASSES, leading the way for the likes of Broken Social Scene, The Arcade Fire and Simple Plan. The New Pornos are kind of like the Justice League, as in they were all previously established Canadian Men and Women before forming this whonky supergroup. Lead singer Carl Newman used to rock Canucks all across the country as the frontman of cult post-punk outfit Our Lady Peace, Dan Bejar aka. “The Destroyer” made a name for himself by writing the theme song for beloved Canadian wrestling hero Bret “The Hitman” Hart, while Neko Case worked as a backup singer for Céline Dion during her Las Vegas residency. I’m not even sure if she’s Canadian. Other people also play instruments in the band, but no one gives a shit about them.

Mass Romantic is the band’s debut and it boasts one of the worst album covers I have ever seen. Other than that, this record is pure awesomeness. Newman and his army of maple-syrup junkies take the sound of 80′s power pop and give you a timeless, instantly-loveable batch of songs. The crunchy guitars of Cheap Trick, the bouncy synths of The Cars and melodic hooks of Big Star can all be heard throughout, yet the end result is something that sounds completely unique and fresh. The opening title track is the ideal introduction to the world of the New Pornos: chugging guitars, playful synths, fun vocals from Neko Case with super-melodic backing vocals from Newman and hooks all over the place. Beach Boys harmonies set-up a rocking guitar finale of ultimate power pop bounciness. And yeah, that’s just the first song, homie. By the way I just noticed I’ve been referencing the Beach Boys in all three of my Track Attack reviews, so either I don’t listen to enough music, or Brian Wilson’s influence is OMNIPRESENT in modern indie rock. Choose or lose.

There’s quite a difference between Bejar’s song-writing approach and Newman’s on this album. Newman clearly goes for all-out pop action with brilliant vocal hooks, upbeat melodies and great choruses. Meanwhile, Bejar’s sings like an asshole about “breaks in the continuum”. His songs seem more carefully paced and often build towards an uplifting finale instead of maintaining the same pop tone throughout. For example, both “Execution Day” and “Breaking The Law” (a Spanish-folk cover of the Judas Priest classic) start off rather down-tempo (especially compared to the Newman songs) but take eventual left turns into shiny pop vibrancy with soaring vocals, group chanting and what have you. These songs aren’t up to par with his best work with The Destroyers, but they are very good songs none the less.

The record offers a truckload of high points, but one of my personal favourites on there is “Mystery Hours”, as it’s sort of the song where Newman and Bejar completely bond as song-writing lovers and then proceed to blow your mind. The song has a big-time glam rock feel, with Newman delivering a very Bowie-esque vocal performance on top of crazy synths and nasty T. Rex-like guitars. Bejar’s love for good old Ziggy Stardust and Mark Bolan is quite well documented, hence the impression of SONG-WRITING FUSION between him and Newman. Shit goes completely ballistic for the chorus with rapid-fire drumming and a ridiculously-catchy hook. Then you have an epic breakdown with some nasty riffing and nifty synth line. Fuck me sideways, this is a great song.

Mass Romantic‘s only low point is “To Wild Homes”, not exactly a bad song, but it definitely lacks the structure and instant catchiness of the album’s other tracks. And for some reason the vocals are completely buried in the mix. FUCK. The rest of the album is power pop brilliance that you will love and cherish.

8.5/10

Of Montreal – Skeletal Lamping (2008)

I always had a soft spot for Of Montreal and their particularly homo-erotic brand of whacky pop music. Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer was one of my favourite records of 2007 and I love the shit out of The Sunlandic Twins. No homo. Now, I recently saw a TV interview with OM head-fairy Kevin Barnes where he listed his favourite bands of the moment: Animal Collective, Deerhoof, Ariel Pink and Gang Gang Dance. He went to explain that he appreciated the way these bands tried to experiment and push music forward. Keeping that in mind, you could say Skeletal Lamping is Barnes’ attempt at being an experimental douchebag and “push music forward” in new, unexpected directions. The main issue at hand here is that the album is an absolute clusterfuck.

Straight-up pop songs following the usual verse/chorus/verse structure are a rarity on this album. Most tracks here have multiple segments and incessant rhythm changes. Opening track “Nonpareil of Favor” sums up Of Montreal’s new song-writing approach (aka. Being total dicks) quite well: it starts off as a bouncy little pop number with catchy synths, cools off for the mid-section and then kicks right into No Age-esque noise rock trashing. And that’s actually one of the less-offensive attempts at experimentation on the album. Spread throughout the rest of the album amidst the billion structure shifts: camp-tastic falsettos, direction-less blips and bloops, various psychedelic noise wankery, silly CRUNK BEATS and some of the most retarded lyrics you will ever come across. “We can do it softcore if you want, but you should know I take it both ways!” actually pops up as a chorus at some point. Also quote-worthy: “I’m so tired of sucking the dick of this cruel cruel city!” in falsetto-mode. LOL, you are a WILD DUDE, Kevin Barnez.

The best songs of the album are those that keep things simple. “An Eluardian Distance” definitely kicks my ass with its awesome trumpet riff and badass guitar solos, “Gallery Piece” offers perfectly-fine Of Montreal disco pop action with its dancey drums and itchy guitar, while closer “Id Engager” proves to be the best track by being the less left-field: crazy party vibe throughout, melodic harmonies, relatively-sane lyrics and a great chorus. The sad thing is that those few good songs don’t hold a candle to the better songs from OM’s back catalogue.

In attempting to create a cohesive (?) concept album where every ridiculously multi-segmented track (sort of) flows into the next, Of Montreal ended up with a completely disjointed mess of an album. The constant “song within a song” bullshit feels more like “tacking a bunch of under-developed song ideas together” than proper experimenting. Also, it makes the album damn near impossible to digest because there’s so much shit going on at all times. Most of the OM signatures (funky basslines, Beach Boys-esque harmonies, dancey synths and what not) can be found throughout the song segments, but the lack of structure seems to ruin any potential melody and renders most of Skeletal Lamping instantly-forgettable. Hopefully Barnes and crew get their shit together for the next album and don’t turn into a complete joke band. Fuck.

6/10

Animal Collective – Merriweather Post Pavilion (2009)

Since this is my first review on this lovely blog, here’s a short introduction: my name is Lou the Jew, I am a 2^nd year English Studies student at the Univershitty of Sherbrooke. My hobbies are music, film, cats and Mel Gibson. I would eventually like to play lead guitar in a supergroup formed of myself, Jarvis Cocker on vocals, “Stone Cold” Steve Austin on bass and Matthew Fox on drums. One of my other goals is to be able to grow enough facial hair to look like a late-era Beatle, do a shit-load of drugs and then make these crazy psychedelic concept albums with an also-bearded Matthew Fox. Enjoy the reviews!

Now, here’s the thing with The Animal Collectives. Up to now, I was never able to go through an entire album of theirs without wanting to put a screwdriver through my brain. Except for a few songs, I never cared for their freak-folk bullshit and always considered them a bunch of knob-twiddling assholes that made music strictly for Pitchfork-obsessed hipster kids. Then this album comes along and the Internet loses its shit. Every single music publication on Earth gives MPP three thumbs up and Pitchfork declares it a cross between The Arcade Fire and Jesus Christ. Based on all this ridiculous hype and the desire to keep up with THE MUSIC SCENE OF TODAY, I gave the album a shot, and holy shit, it rules.

It’s Animal Collective gone pop! LOL. Critics had also said this for Animal Collection’s last album Strawberry Jam, and that was a straight-up lie, but this time around it’s pretty spot on. Animal Collective gone pop! This is the album where Avey Tare and co. put all of their experimental electro wankery to good use and come up with a bunch of ridiculously hooky off-kilter pop songs that can be appreciated both by the casual music listener AND the blog-reading indieheads. It’s like they finally figured out the key to Pet Sounds‘ awesomeness wasn’t just taking a bunch of acid and making freaky noises, but actually crafting proper good songs with the said acid and noises and shit.

This is the first AC album where you can actually sing along to songs! And I say this with all of the credibility of someone that only half-listened to a few of their other records and gave up because they sucked donkey nuts! But yeah, “My Girls” is a total CLUB BANGER dressed up as a loopy psychedelic pop number with all sorts of bleeps and bloops, but the hooks and beats are all there and you love it. Same goes for “Summertime Clothes”, which starts off with a nasty synth beat and various whacky samples before sweeping you right into a super-catchy chorus. “I WANNA WALK AROUND WITH YOU!” Some of the less sugary songs are surprisingly enjoyable too. Take for example the mellow “Bluish”, with its soothing vocals, hypnotizing synths and irresistible chorus. Damn it, you make me proud, Animal Collective.

There is some so-so filler here and there that keeps MPP from ranking with the likes of Kid A, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and Fergie’s solo album as a Modern Classic. I’m pretty sure Ringo Starr sings the opening verse on “Guys Eyes”. That’s beside the point though. HERE is my point: “Taste” and “No More Runnin’” don’t really go anywhere. It’s rather inoffensive filler though and doesn’t seriously hurt the album. “Brothersport” is the perfect closer here, absolute monster of a song and easily my favourite track as it perfectly encapsulates AC’s fresh new pop sound: daringly experimental yet full of hooks and catchy as hell. The crazy ending makes me wanna dance my ass off, and I never thought I’d say such a thing about an Animals Collector song, ever. I also read a review somewhere that referred to the song’s “Open up your throat!” lyrics as an ode to blowjobs or some such thing. That’s brilliant.

I used to hate these lads, and now I feel like re-visiting all of their other shitty albums just to make sure I didn’t miss something. Give this a listen and see for yourself, all my fellow AC haterz. Wonderful album with some killer psych-pop songs that should convert all the non-believers.

8.5/10