Category: Reviews

Xiu Xiu’s Jamie Stewart has never shied away from difficult emotional topics. The last six albums from this band have all featured heart-on-sleeve lyrics, imbuing an incredible pathos that runs contrary to the dense, often cold pop arrangements that have typically characterized Stewart’s catalogue. Dear God, I Hate Myself continues that brashness, a record full of thick post-modern instrumentation, the occasional fuzzy guitar, and Stewart’s quivering vocals, which bounce between almost-crooning and arty shoegazing. It’s a record as weird and engaging as anything else this group has released but remarkably more self-aware and mature. The record title alone may lead most listeners to believe that Stewart’s actually gained a sense of humour, and they wouldn’t be wrong. Opener “Gray Death” sees Stewart crying “If you expect me to be outrageous/ I will be extra-outrageous,” while colourful electronics whirr in the background in classic verse-chorus-verse formation, capturing Xiu Xiu’s best ironic imitation of mainstream pop. Similarly, “Chocolate Makes You Happy” and “This Too Shall Pass Away (For Freddy)” feature some infectious refrains—despite the lyrical themes of bulimia suicide—that still manage to stand up as some of the best songs of Stewart’s career. It’s the sound of a man is trying to have more fun. Dear God, I Hate Myself is still very much a Xiu Xiu album, but instantly more accessible and immediate than anything the band has done before. (Kill Rock Stars, www.killrockstars.com) Kevan Hannah

Replacing the locatedness of their earlier albums with a misguided appeal to the masses, Athens, Ga.’s the Whigs, with their third release In the Dark, have produced a clear dud of a record. “Boring” is perhaps the best way to describe the record as the band has taken away all the interesting references to their homeland and replaced them with generic anthem-rock clichés and lyrics that are unnecessarily meaningless and naïve. Take the first single “Kill Me Carolyne” as an example. Sonically, the track could have been made by any number of bands and it would have sounded the same. This could just as easily been a song written by the Killers or even Muse, as it follows the typical verse-chorus-verse formula, revolving around an over-produced sound sucking any creative fragment or fracture out of the bands aesthetic. And then the lyrics “You give me the authority/ you give me the authority/ you give me the authority/ to lie.” And then about a minute later comes “You give me eternity/you give me eternity/you give me eternity to die.” Really? If you’re going to use repetition, it’s usually a good idea to make sure what you’re saying is actually worth repeating. Perhaps I’m being too harsh, but I can’t help but see this record as failing on so many different levels. Considering that In the Dark was created by a band previously so attuned to its surroundings, it’s shocking to see them putting out such an abstract and opaque piece of work. Pass on this one, folks. (ATO Records, www.atorecords.com) Jeff Friesen

Describing themselves as obnoxious porn rock, Wank Punter is the intellectual and musical equivalent of a teenager’s wet dream. The genre title is apt because just like porn the songs are poorly scripted, the acting/singing is terrible, the songs seem to be written over a weekend and there is little interest in giving more then one take. Songs about glory holes, porn stars and other crude sexual humour that may be construed as funny if the band wasn’t so sad. Like a twelfth-rate Kid Rock (and I fucking hate Kid Rock) this band is fronted by the rap/rocking Joey Bigapini which embodies every over-sexualized, cocaine-addled rock star cliché and then some. The real kicker is that the band is so creative that producer Mark “Feedback” Nakamura had to write all their forgettable smutty tunes such as “Bionic Chronic” and “Love You Long Time.” Despite Wank Punter’s many, many, failings as an entity, it’s strangely intriguing. Much like Troma films or Asian-singing sensation Wing or reality TV, Wank Punter might be so lame, puerile and horrifically corny that it might actually be a hit for all the wrong reasons. (Blue Sapphire Music, www.wankpunter.com) Kent Davies

New Jersey’s Titus Andronicus have released one of the old stand-bys in music: the concept album. On their follow-up to 2008’s The Airing of Grievances, the punk rock band writes an album loosely based on the American Civil War. Throughout the album, the band has guests (including the Hold Steady’s Craig Finn and the Vivian Girls’ Cassie Ramone) reading excerpts from speeches and poetry from the time period. But the album has a lot more depth beneath the surface. It uses the civil as a metaphor for modern American political discord. It is an ambitious album, and one that works most of the time. While listening to the album, one can see the multitude of influences, such as the Pogues, the Hold Steady, and the Replacements throughout the album. Production wise, the album is an improvement over its predecessor. It is less lo-fi than Grievances, but is not over-produced either. It still has the raw, in-your-face fury the band is known for. This is not an album of singles. The songs are meant to be listened to in the context of the album. There are only two songs on the album that are shorter than five minutes. The longest song, “The Battle of Hampton Roads,” clocks in at 14 minutes long. It is also the highlight of the album, building from a simple punk rock beat, to a middle section that would not feel out of place in an arena setting, and finally throws a bagpipe solo near the end. Epic is the only word I can use to describe it. Go out and get this album now. It is my favorite album so far this year. Highest possible recommendation. (XL Recordings, www.xlrecordings.com) Charles Lefebvre

With a voice that has an ethereal quality, sounding both innocent and weathered at the same time, Karyn Ellis follows the tradition of the Canadian folk songbird started by Kate and Anna McGarrigle. The third album from Ellis displays a range of genres, from country on “Bitter Grasses,” a send-off to an old flame, to the orchestral overtones of “Beauty.” Even Though the Sky was Falling sounds concisely constructed to show off a range of influences. Considering it has been almost five years since her last album Hearts Fall, Ellis obviously took her time to do so. While the album at times sounds a little too much like a handful of other female folk-pop musicians that tend to pop onto sappy Grey’s Anatomy soundtracks, there is a certain lack of polish to Ellis’s music that gives her an edge above them.  Gems like “Not Looking for Love” show off a unique sound that is all her own. Unlike her peers, it doesn’t sound like she cares if she fits into any sort of package that might be easier to sell and although at times a bit awkward, Even Though the Sky Was Falling is better than a soundtrack to a corny medical drama any day. (Mathilde’s Home Productions, www.karynellis.com) Sarah Petz

Amidst working with King Khan under the name BBQ and collaborating with King Khan and the Black Lips as the Almighty Defenders, Mark Sultan had time in 2008 to record $, an album full of doo-wop-influenced garage rock. Now, the taste du jour is definitely straightforward garage rock, ask no questions. And here Sultan’s got a bunch of tracks here that do just that—“Status,” “I’ll Be Loving You” and “Don’t Look Back” are all guaranteed barn-burners which show off Sultan’s songwriting fleshed out into a full band. But then there are the songs like “Icicles” and “I Am the End,” which are stripped down and chug along, albeit at a snail’s pace. The intro for “I Am the End” goes as far as just using Sultan’s voice, tons of reverb, a tambourine, and ambient noise—yet Sultan doesn’t lose any of his soul despite it. It’s kind of weird to think of, since this album is coming from a guy who has built up his name from a plethora of lo-fi seven-inches, but this is a fully-conscious studio album. Some songs have weird, scratchy noise on them and some others are totally radio friendly. I’d highly doubt seeing Mark Sultan play under his own name and touring these songs, or even playing stripped-down versions of these as BBQ—but then again, that’s why he made an album. (Last Gang, www.lastgangentertainment.com) Taylor Burgess

This formerly lost-to-the-ages 1974 release is now ready for fans/addicts to pull into their world music-collecting realm. The eleven-strong conglomerate that was the Sweet Talks hailed from Tema, Ghana and this short but scintillating album boils with their youthful highlife-meets-Afrobeat enthusiasm. Then again, they do call it The Kusum Beat and anyone with ears will instantly recognize a slight difference in their haughty vocals, chattering guitars and hard-to-beat horn arrangements. The drummer lays heavily into the hi-hat, keeping the rhythm on high boil throughout and there is a palpable jazziness to their trumpet solos that will please even the most discriminating seeker. The repeating musical statements, mostly based around a cheap-sounding organ, almost become swirling and psychedelic at some points and the rhythmic structures advance before your ears and suck you in with a charming yet unrelenting flow. Nice plus. (Soundway, www.soundwayrecords.com) Jeff Monk

Although Stylus has gone half a year without a single Pitchfork mention, it’s nearly impossible to write a review of this album without doing so—it was about a year ago that P4K (barf) hyped up the track “Despicable Dogs,” basically putting Small Black on everyone’s radar. The core duo was then joined up by two Pitchfork TV contributors to fill out their sound for live shows and a seven-point-nothing was given hastily to this EP just to throw the conspiracy theorists off the scent (in my humble opinion). The lead-off track “Despicable Dogs” is downright loveable and will instantly shoot doses of nostalgia into listeners’ hearts, but the rest of EP (including two bonus tracks for this reissue) doesn’t quite hold up the same standard of songwriting. But that doesn’t mean they’re not good—they just pale in comparison. The rest of EP is full of drum machines and distorted toy keyboards in a fashion similar to Think About Life, Miracle Fortress, or Not Animals. All of which scream Stylus rather than Pitchfork, anyways. (Jagjaguwar, www.jagjaguwar.com) Taylor Burgess

Another reason to love the internet: Norway’s Sleepyard would have passed completely below my radar. While the core of the band are the brothers Kersbergen (Oliver and Svein), they’ve got no less than twelve other musicians (including keys and treatment from Spacemen 3’s Pete Kember) strapped in for the epic trip into twilight. The first four pieces wouldn’t sound out of place in the dream sequences of Terry Gilliam’s Brazil. They’re soaring, lush soundscapes with ethereal, gauzy guitar, fluttering flute and strings. “Hot Radio” and “Bionic Exercise” both stand out to me, the first being a lush vibe with crescendos and waves over a primal, krautrock beat while the latter sounds like the Beach Boys, if that beach was located next to an unexplored jungle. Almost primal, totally surreal. “Afternoon Suntrap” is the sound of unknown, dark and foreboding, yet inviting. It leads you to the “Tangerine Road,” where angels sing you down while the rag-tag duo of old-tyme piano and pedal steel play on. “Heavy Sunset” ends the disc, prying your eyelids open with rays from the sky. The whole album has the hazy, dream-like, something you thought you’ve experienced before but can’t quite pin down quality. But unlike a dream, this is something you can easily find and fall back into. And with the internet, there’s no excuse to not check out this, or any other Sleepyard discs. (Oliver, also super cool, is a Google search away and would love to hook you up with his music.) (CCAP, www.checkpoint.no/ccap) Patrick Michalishyn