Kowloon Walled City‘s new record is called Gambling on the Richter Scale , which is both a homage to their San Francisco roots and an introduction to their sound. Taking a page from bands like Unsane and local heroes Neurosis, the quartet specializes in mammoth, down-tuned riffs — slabs of tectonic impact that seem summoned from the San Andreas fault itself. Built around bassist Ian Miller’s monstrous tone and the sheer amperage marshaled by guitarists Scott Evans and Jason Pace, the band is undergirded by Jeff Fagundes’ heavy-handed drumming and brought to a rousing roar by Evans’ hardcore-influence barks, which evince the influence of sludge-core practitioners like Seattle’s Akimbo.

The group take their name from a notorious Chinese enclave in British Hong Kong, a hotbed of crime, urban squalor, and unlicensed dentistry that was torn down in the 80′s. The group’s pummeling chords, sickly melodies and raw-throated screams are well suited to evoking this kind of urban dystopia, and Gambling… is a masterclass in the kind of thunderous dirges that have made Kowloon Walled City a rising tide in the Bay Area’s ocean of heaviness. Stately, mid-tempo assaults like “Clockwork” and “More Like the Shit Factory” find the band in full marauding-giant-footstep mode, while “Diabetic Feet,” inches the tempo up just a notch, resulting in sludgy, bare-knuckled destruction.

Pounding through their new material at Annie’s, the band seemed confident in their hard-won potency, and an enthusiastic audience of friends and fans was content to let the chunky chords wash over them. With rave reviews flooding in from all corners of the metal world, these short-list contenders for the “Northern California’s heaviest band” prize have made another earth-shaking move towards the limelight.

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Kowloon Walled City – “Diabetic Feet”

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The Bay Area has been pumping out some truly excellent folk-rock over the past decade, and few bands have excelled in the genre like San Francisco’s Vetiver. It’s been three years since bandleader Andy Cabic last released an album of original music. 2008 brought A Thing of the Past, a well-regarded collection of eclectic covers that introduced the band’s now-solidified five-member lineup, but Tight Knit–the group’s fourth album–is their first on the ever-evolving Sub Pop Records. Moreover, one hopes and suspects it will introduce them to an expanded indie music audience.

It’s tough to discuss Cabic’s band without referencing the “naturalismo” (to some, pejoratively, “freak-folk”) scene associated with his past collaborator Devendra Banhart. Banhart contributed to the first two Vetiver albums, and Cabic toured in Devendra’s band and produced Cripple Crow. But although the two have co-written songs and co-founded the Gnomonsong record label, their projects substantially diverge sonically. Most notably, Vetiver’s music doesn’t as overtly seek the avant-garde. If anything, it’s more disarmingly conventional–not in the sense of playing it safe, but in embracing and then adapting classic folk-rock sounds and song structures. Mix that with strong songwriting and production, and the result is ten gorgeous songs.

That innate musical familiarity makes Tight Knit remarkably accessible, even if the songs that make the greatest impression upon first listen are the ones that deviate most from its overall feel. Those would be “Everyday” and its Side B counterpart “More of This”; the former is a hazy slice of great California pop, while the latter glides on jangly guitar and a catchy harmony-laden chorus that fades out but leaves a lasting impression. But while those may be the poppiest “singles” amidst the bunch, many subsequent rewards come from unpacking the record’s denser songs. On album highlight “Sister,” Cabic’s airy, wistful singing is the centerpiece, but it’s couched amid slide guitar, reverb-affected vocals and otherworldly sounds that manage never to overpower the song’s fragile beauty.

Credit for making all of this work should go to Cabic and longtime producer Thom Monahan, who keep things feeling deceptively natural despite the often numerous subtle layers underneath. With the exception of the poppier songs noted above, and maybe “Another Reason to Go” (which continues to grow on me despite a built-in aversion to anything remotely boogie rock), Tight Knit‘s dynamic shifts are quite subtle, and it has some great small moments that can be lost if you aren’t paying close attention. It almost feels like sleight of hand, really: Cabic’s vocals and the melodies draw you in while the atmospherics sneak up on you.

While “Strictly Rule” and “Down From Above” likewise push the ambient space envelope, the band saves the psychiest and most ambitious number for last, the absolutely beautiful and sweeping “At Forest Edge.” A story of longing and exploration in a strange and mystical forest, the narrator concludes, “I’ve got to find my own way.” That sentiment, the value of the self-determined journey, percolates throughout the album’s lyrics, but it could equally be described to Andy Cabic and crew. In creating their own space from a unique blend of sounds, they’ve made an album that definitely rewards the journey.

Purchase Tight Knit from SubPop.com

Visit Vetiver at Vetiverse.com and MySpace.com/Vetiverse

The Bay Bridged is presenting Vetiver’s CD Release Party for Tight Knit on Wednesday, April 8th at the Great American Music Hall. Adam Stephens (of Two Gallants) and Richard Swift will also be performing.

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Window Twins – “Maybe It’s Time”

Continue reading the review in it’s entirety at KQED Arts.

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Triclops! – Secret 93

Obama’s election aside, all available signs indicate that we’re already neck deep in some pretty bad times in America, and I think that’s part of why I’ve found myself listening to Triclops!‘s Out of Africa quite a bit this year. Bad times call for heavy, feel-bad music to keep the blood boiling as things fall apart, and the band’s first full length release is a slab of acid punk that definitely delivers, fusing a wandering critical lyricism to compositions that draw from a broad array of post-hardcore, prog, metal and experimental rock sounds.

Triclops! started in 2005, when vocalist John No from Oakland’s Fleshies) and guitarist Christian Eric Beaulieu of San Francisco’s Bottles and Skulls got together to experiment with some of the heavy, spaced-out sounds they hadn’t explored in other bands. Eventually the duo recruited drummer Phil Becker (Lower Forty-Eight) and bassist Larry Boothroyd (Victims Family), a rhythm section who impressively hold down the varied tempos and left-turns demanded from the songs on Out of Africa, released in March on Alternative Tentacles.

Those songs often begin in near-silence before building into frenzied twisting rock reminiscent at times of The Melvins, The Jesus Lizard and early Butthole Surfers. Beaulieu’s guitar is frequently the key, as on “Cassava,” where he veers between tense repetitive strumming and some great pedal-driven riffs. When the band’s racket succeeds, and this is the case much more often than not, it completely envelops and smothers. “Iraqi Curator,” a song about the devastation of the US invasion shifts between angry stomping verses and hazy atmospheric breakdowns, held together by a precise intense performance. There’s also a melodic sensibility that periodically submerges within the band’s songwriting. Tracks like album opener “March of the Half-Babies” and the consumption indictment “Freedom Tickler” are incredibly catchy with a downright anthemic quality.

Alternately on top of, or buried within, this controlled chaos lie No’s vocals, often delivered through effects that require the listener to head to the lyrics sheet. While the vocal treatment often adds to the heady feel, the speak-sung story of being lost and losing it on “Secret 93″ demonstrates that the effects aren’t necessary to create intensity. The subject matter alone is plenty intense, with critiques of conspicuous consumption and the violence of imperialism recurring throughout the CD.

But is there any hope? The narrator of “Lovesong for the Botfly” expresses an admiration for the insect’s natural process for development and envies the fact that it doesn’t need love to survive. Meanwhile, in “March of the Half-Babies,” it seems like the narrator hires a (possibly drug-induced) ghost to fight his “biological imperative” by punching him in the face. There’s not much room for optimism here, but in times this rough, this warped blend of psych noise and punk rock really hits the spot.

Or, as No says in “Iraqi Curator”: So how you like them apples?

Triclops! will be performing at the Great American Music Hall on Sunday, November 30th with Hanson Brothers (featuring members of NoMeansNo) and The Bar Feeders. The show starts at 8pm and is $14 advance/$16 door.

Links:

- Listen to Triclops! on Alternative Tentacles’ podcast

- Purchase Out of Africa from AlternativeTentacles.com and on iTunes

- View a video for “Lovesong For The Botfly”

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When Relm is performing, the stage distends with pumping beats that are often out-there mixes of 80s classics, cartoon themes—the most unlikely hip hop/electronic tunes. He makes his audience laugh, but all the while dresses in a full black suit and works the tables like the best DJs out there. His new album Spectacle, released on Radio Fried Records, trumps the old party mashups for original beats and hip hop tunes that show a maturity that will surely be embraced by his true fans and perhaps disregarded by the party people.

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Mike Relm – “Everytime” (feat. Del the Funky Homosapien and Adrian Hartley)

There’s no doubt that it’s hard to recreate the energy of a live set on an album. And it’s also pretty clear that a DJ has a lot of pressure on him when he decides to branch out in the way that Relm did with this project. But he made good choices with the mix, and kept the energy up, which is a good first step. And tracks like “Body Rock” make you stop and remember that this guy’s ultimate job is to help people party, and at that he’s an expert. No question.

Some of the sounds used on the album sound a little dated, but not necessarily in a bad way. Relm blends tracks that use 80s-sounding synths and piles them onto modern dance beats. The song “Tron” is a perfect example, as robotic sounds blend into house bass drum sounds, and soon after comes the 80s pop synth melody.

The first single from the album is “Every Time You Break My Heart,” which is broken into three different versions (as is the title) and interspersed throughout the record. While it feels like one too many versions of the same song, the chorus (with vocals by Adrian Hartley) is infecting. Each version features a different rap that changes the song enough, but still rather slightly. The mood of the song darker than most of Relm’s work, and is complimented by the excellent work of the vocalists.

A couple of highlights on the album are “The Cube” and “Vertiglo,” not solely because they are instrumental tracks. “The Cube” is a song that builds from a basic beat and bass line to a fully danceable club track, and “Vertiglo” is similar – a repetitive but excessively fun mix. These two songs show Relm’s creativity with beats and sounds in a way that gets covered in other songs by the talents of the MCs and vocalists. Both types of songs are done well, but the instrumental tunes display the raw talent more transparently.

The flow of the album is broken up with short clips of the sound of changing channels on a television, with a split second bite of sounds from movies, TV news and odd commercials. It’s unconvincing that these tracks are necessary, but they add a little humor and novelty to the album at least the first few listens. And Relm being Relm, there had to be some quirkiness in there somewhere.

Relm will perform at The Mezzanine on Friday, December 5 with Peanut Butter Wolf. He will also be showing off his visual mash-up skills at this gig. In the meantime, get his album Spectacle, out now.

This post was originally written for and is republished from KQED Interactive.

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It’s hard to gauge how the lifers will respond, both to this more melodic Deerhoof and to the more trendy fans it is likely to spawn. The songs on Offend Maggie are generally much less aggressive — many sublime, and some even danceable. And the emotion on these albums is put in a more relatable musical context, while of course still maintaining the dissonance and experimentation that has gotten them to where they are.

Despite any subtle or even more substantial changes, there still is no experience quite like listening to a Deerhoof song. Discussing originality or novelty in the context of a Deerhoof album is quite futile, and I think a lot of critics (myself included) still have trouble critiquing something that is not so much musically unique as a redefinition of aural pleasure. Offend Maggie brings this to a new, easier to reach level.

The first song on the album, “The Tears and Music of Love,” starts with a powerful, rhythmic guitar line and vocalist Satomi Matsuzaki quickly begins her forcefully adorable treatment of a mostly tonal melody. But classic Deerhoof comes through as they chop every forth measure in half, creating a kind of hiccup in the rhythm.

Another highlight of the album, “Basket Ball Get Your Groove Back,” literally made me giggle the first time I heard it because of its silly lyrics (repeat of words like “b-ball” and “rebound” and something that sounds like “bunny jump”) and the childlike combination of the rhythm and melody. This song as well as others on the record really treat the voice as a percussion instrument as much as a melodic one, which creates a fantastic mood and drive.

I won’t dwell on this next point, but I’m seeing a pattern in indie music where fans are much more apt to gibberish and/or languages of which they cannot understand a word. Of course many of these bands feature vocalists whose voice is radiant enough to overcome any lyrical deficiencies, as is the case with Matsuzaki. But I wonder how far this trend can go before people start yearning for a good poem again.

The song “Family of Others” is certainly one of the more oddball songs on the album. It begins with noisy dissonance and soon a kind of bizarre modern vocal counterpoint comes in, only to quickly change again into a lighthearted acoustic tune. It’s one of the most disjointed songs on the album, as if they didn’t think each warranted its own song, so they magically formulated a way to sew them together. It works, but that’s just how Deerhoof does it.

This is the music theory nerd in me talking, but I have to wonder how formulated these odd harmonies and dissonances are. It’s possible that they just come out of the band naturally, without much calculation. That seems most likely, considering how laborious it would be for any band to figure out that a C# thirteenth flat nine chord works for a particular section of a song. But the musical sensibility that allows for extreme dissonance and arhythm while still making the music listenable is precisely why Deerhoof is still around, and still surprising us.

Deerhoof will return to the Bay Area for a show at the Mezzanine on Nov. 15.

This post was originally written for and is republished from KQED Interactive.

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Winter’s Fall was formed by Peter Stanley and childhood friend Keith Gidlund about two years ago, so it’s a little surprising how self-assured and fully realized the new CD sounds. The group’s 2007 Muddy & White EP hinted at this talent, featuring some good songs hampered by production that obscured their pop charms. Thankfully, a bunch of those tracks were rerecorded for the self-titled new record, and they’re markedly improved by a clean sound that perfectly captures the band’s swooning layers.

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Winter’s Fall – “Blame”

A few of the band’s more driving rock songs, like the anthemic “Blame” and “Hillside,” kick off the CD, but the vocal harmonies, keyboards and slide guitar add an melodic pop beauty even when the group is at its most electric. There’s a mini-epic quality to songs like the big rock ballad “Paper Chains,” which transforms a lethargic groove into a crashing wave of rock and roll, and the band does build-and-decay awfully well. Album highlight “Unusual Ways” is a subtle, moving song reminiscent of the winding emotional work of Sunny Day Real Estate, and its moody keyboards and echoey guitars build to an energetic climax. As on the rest of the album, Stanley’s lyrics are indirect on the track, but his fragmentary images capture loneliness and heartbreak with a melancholy befitting his world-weary voice.

The album’s second half sees the band playing with their sound a bit, incorporating some great horns on “Muddy and White” and a surf rock-sounding electric guitar on “These Ivory Days.” If the first half’s vibe was more firmly country rock, the back end eclecticism is reminiscent of the ominverous approach of Calexico, and there’s a particularly Southwestern feel to the guitar lines and cowbell of “On Wisdom.” These later songs suggest that the quartet is able to mine more experimental territory, and it’s a definitely a direction worth continuing in. As it stands, the meticulously stacked layers and tight songwriting demonstrate a certain pop efficacy, but given a song like “Lonely You” and its hypnotically wandering trumpet and reversed guitar sounds, it’s tough not to want the band to really experiment with the outer reaches of their atmospheric approach. That’s a minor complaint, though, for a collection of songs this good.

This post was originally written for and is republished from KQED Interactive.

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From the looks of them, the members of Birdmonster are slightly unlikely folk-heads. They are skinny and wear tight jeans. Their hair is disheveled perfection. But when the music starts, it is raw and heartfelt, sometimes twangy — indie-folk tunes with grace.

With their new album From the Mountain to the Sea, Birdmonster offers a collection of characters that demonstrates their great grasp of melody and harmony. The songs, while not overly complicated, are carefully sculpted to produce a soothing balance.

One of the most distinct elements of the album (and the band in general) is Peter Arcuni’s vocals, which mimic a Buddy Holly-type lightness and exude the necessary frontman confidence. The other members gracefully accompany, adding banjo, mandolin, guitar and bass-drum heavy percussion, respectively, with a dignified enthusiasm.

At their CD listening party a few weeks ago, the band broke their performance into two sections, acoustic and electric, which is telling. The album is nicely sprinkled with a good balance of each, and to break them up was almost a shame, but it ultimately worked in their favor. It showcased the different personality of each song in the context of his or her brothers and sisters, while also highlighting the difference between the two styles, setting them apart as the quiet, intelligent types and the rebellious punk rockers.

Tracing the lineage of these songs back to previous Birdmonster albums is quite fascinating — this album takes a significant step away from loud indie rock and into softer, more sentimental folk realms. Perhaps that’s just what happens when you, and your musical progeny, get older.

The family of songs fits nicely together, but there is one black sheep, “Heart of the Dead.” It’s a great song — a poppy and modern salute to post-punk — but it sticks out like a sore thumb in an otherwise smooth indie-folk album. Perhaps we can think of it as the adopted second cousin.

Upon hearing the tune “Born to be Your Man,” it’s evident that it will be the crowd favorite (the Marcia Brady of this particular sonic family). Beginning with a sprightly vocal line and lyrics that will make the teenage girls swoon, the song builds nicely, introducing poppy guitar licks and a few subtle but key vocal harmonies. It’s sure to make the others a little jealous.

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Birdmonster – “Born To Be Your Man”

But there are many other tunes that hold their own, such as (in the acoustic family) “I Might Have Guessed,” “Lost at Sea,” and (from the electric family) “The Iditarod.” It’s a well-groomed bunch — the mixing of the album prevents stark contrasts between songs from being too evident, and the instrument that stands out changes in each.

The band has an exciting September and October ahead of them as they bring their family of tunes across the country, playing with the likes of Nada Surf and The Rumble Strips (tour dates here). You can get to know the new album on Birdmonster’s MySpace page. From the Mountain to the Sea is physically out today on the Fader Label and digitally available through iTunes and Amazon.

The guys also are featured in our new Video Podcast series performing their single “Born to Be Your Man” at Heron’s Head Park in San Francisco.

This post was originally written for and is republished from KQED Interactive.

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Formed by singer-guitarist Greg Giles in 1997, 20 Minute Loop is surely one of the longest running bands in San Francisco indie rock, having outlasted late-nineties peers who have either moved out of the area, broken up, or both. Perhaps the group’s secret is pacing itself; their latest album, Famous People Marry Famous People, released last month, is their first CD in three years, but it reintroduces them as pop songsmiths of the highest caliber, adept at crafting idea-packed tracks that are clever, catchy and wholly engaging.

They’ve been called “freak pop” and “art rock,” but I think of 20 Minute Loop as a Bay Area answer to the New Pornographers, fueled by crunchy guitars and soaring melodies that betray a love of classic power pop and early nineties indie sounds. Famous People… continues this tradition on driving rockers like “Dr. Vitus Werdegast” and “The Bone Is The Orbital Planet Of The Nerve,” and a number of tunes keep the energy high throughout the album.

While past works have showcased 20 ML’s adeptness at eschewing verse-chorus-verse songwriting through musical left-turns, six of the songs here hover around the three minute mark, which limits the canvas for quirky transitions but ensures that each track is crammed full of ideas. In the end, it’s a matter of trade-offs: in exchange for less prog, one gets to absorb more of the details, and soak in the warm layers of vocals, keyboards and guitars stacked on songs like “Latin Names and Straight Pins.” The band’s clean straightforward production efforts enable a full chamber pop sound without sacrificing dynamic power.

Over the years, the 20 Minute Loop sound has been in part defined by the vocal interplay between Giles and singer-keyboardist Kelly Atkins. Whether they’re harmonizing or trading lines, there’s just something about the way the pair’s voices mix that’s engaging even as the songs twist and turn around them, and even as they confront big issues filtered through individual experiences. Given how ridiculously catchy the songs are, it’s easy to be caught off-guard by how powerful the lyrics can be, tackling the meaning of empire, war and outsider status through detalied examinations of personal unhappiness and individualized conflicts.

“Automatic Pilot,” for example, begins with the observation, “Rifle shot, gun report,/Sounds a lot like bubble wrap when it’s snapped” before plunging headlong into a study of the threat of violence through a summer camp prism. It’s weighty, challenging stuff, to be sure, and it can be overwhelming to try and process all of the lyrical and musical ideas as they’re being presented. That’s when you let the poppy melodies take over and just nod your head and tap your feet, even if you can’t yet sing along.

You can listen to the entire new album at 20 Minute Loop’s Bandcamp page and purchase it at CDBaby. Visit 20 Minute Loop’s web site and MySpace page.

This post was originally written for and republished from KQED Interactive.

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It’s often the case that good music is filled with paradoxes. Whether it’s a calmly beautiful folk song that portrays an almost militant political message or a song that’s so sparse instrumentally but somehow expresses a complex subject, these songs achieve something spectacular. Such is the case with Okay‘s new album Huggable Dust (2008, Absolutely Kosher).

The Fremont band, which is essentially one man – Marty Anderson – and friends, has caught the ears of the members of Deerhoof and many passionate and adoring fans throughout the Bay Area and beyond. Huggable Dust, a followup to the double-release of Low Road and High Road in 2005, is characteristic of the sound Okay fans have come to know and love, but with a few extra kicks.

The sound itself is filled with contradictions – some as simple as children’s songs, with tinkling piano and guitar sounds, and others filled with many layers; with synth and wind sounds that feel futuristic in contrast to the acoustic bass, such as on track 13, “Poof.”

With Low Road and High Road, the overdubs were rumored to have exceeded the double digits, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the same is true for some of the songs on this album. But this is just one of the extremes that this album possesses – whether it’s optimism and pessimism, simple and complex, loud and soft, sparse and crowded, it’s got everything – sometimes to a dizzying degree. Anderson’s somewhat scratchy, almost strained-sounding voice may not resonate with everyone, but if you can hear it for the raw emotion and almost ironic pain that comes through, you’ll be sold. On first listen you are taken aback, as if seeing your first Jackson Pollock painting after looking at Renoir your whole life.

You can’t read about Anderson without reading about his condition. He has Crohn’s Disease, a gastrointestinal disease that, to say the least, is incredibly painful and has caused him many a night in the hospital. But what is so noteworthy about this fact is not that he elicits pity for his condition or anything of the sort, but rather that he has managed to take his experiences, build a spectacular outlook on life and craft songs that anyone can relate to – both in pain and elation.

Perhaps one of the most relatable aspects of the album is that there are often very few words in each song, like a mantra: “There’s always a downside; There’s always an upside,” “I know who my sunshine is,” “I want you … to be happy.”

A highlight of the album is “Natural,” a painfully sweet love song with the simplest of finger-picked guitar parts and a basic melody that Anderson sings with passion and pain at the same time: “I could write you a novel tonight; I could write you a new song each day; it’s a natural part of my day.” And really, he’s telling the truth. Anderson is notorious for being uber-prolific, and writing a song a day, particularly for a passionate love, is most certainly not far from the realm of possibility.

Throughout the album you can see Anderson’s struggle – with life, with love, with his disease. The themes flow like rolling hills, changing drastically from the painfully truthful (“What a nightmare to love”) to the almost forcefully optimistic (“I didn’t know that this somethin’ was really nothin’ in my way”), perhaps paralleling the very conflict that runs through each of us as we try to tell our mind something quite contrary to what it automatically possesses.

One often worries about the well-being of someone who is capable of expressing such personal sentiments in their songs, as expressing what’s inside of your soul can elicit varied reactions, from ridicule to obsession. But one thing is for sure – the act of delving into this record is very much a personal experience for the listener as well – both in the sense that she can relate to these tribulations in her own life, and in the sense that she feels a deep and unmistakable compassion for someone who can write such “uplifting” songs, whatever condition he may be in.

However, in a live setting, Anderson is anything but feeble. Having won East Bay Express’ “Most Charismatic Performer” award in 2005, he and his up-to-7-person band are notorious for antics – from an opening of Tibetan bells to toy guns. And as Deerhoof has recently counted Okay as one of their favorite bands, they’ve asked Anderson to join them on two shows in the beginning of October.

But prior to these days, Okay will play Bottom of the Hill on Monday, July 28 with The Watson Twins (LA) and Tim Fite (Brooklyn). The show is $10 and will start at 9pm. You can buy Huggable Dust and other Okay albums via the Absolutely Kosher website. Listen if you’re happy; listen if you’re sad.

This post was originally written for and republished from KQED Interactive.

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In the mid-1990s, a Houston DJ named DJ Screw gained widespread attention for pioneering a unique style of remixing known as “Chopped and Screwed,” in which he would use a turntable to shift an existing rap or R&B song’s pitch significantly downward and drastically slow its tempo. While the pitch adjustment added an unsettling and occasionally menacing effect, the slowed tempos provided an exaggerated abundance of room for the songs to breathe, and sounds or lyrics previously obscured in the mix were unveiled to listeners under the screwed-up microscope. When it worked, it could be moving or downright revelatory.

Young Family Song isn’t a rap album, and it certainly hasn’t been Chopped and Screwed, but San Francisco’s Last of the Blacksmiths filter their folk-rock through a slowed-down approach that similarly maximizes the impact of every detail. The album is the group’s second, following a 2005 self-titled debut which drew numerous favorable reviews comparing them to artists like Son Volt and The Band, from whose Cahoots album the Blacksmiths draw their name. Beyond the nominal connection, LotB share their predecessors’ love for warm multi-part harmonies and an inclination toward genre-melding jams that incorporate elements of Americana, country, blues and R&B for a sound that feels equally recognizable and unique.

Utilizing a diverse arsenal of styles and sounds, the Blacksmiths build and deconstruct some seriously hypnotic grooves. The first song, “Autumn Vacation,” alone has three distinct movements: a lonely piano-backed introduction, which morphs into a slowcore-touched rock ballad, and then into a horn-punctuated swell. Others aren’t quite as structurally ambitious, but their moments work just as well, like the beautiful guitar solo that closes “The Records,” or the evolving interplay between guitar and organ throughout “Beard Tongues.” Things remain pretty stripped-down throughout, but the Blacksmiths have the skill to make each subtle shift matter.

While the music is moody, the alternating feelings of mournful and wistful reflection that pervade are driven by the lyrics, through which the band looks back on once-loved records and once-loved lovers with an eye for fragmentary moments and details. The vocals weave in and out of the music, sometimes lost in the sound, or soaring through some beautiful, fragile harmonies. On “Giving Up,” perhaps the album’s most fully realized distillation of R&B mixed with droning rock, the singer’s caution that he’s not giving up on his lost love floats vulnerably above the thick bass and organ tones that cement the mood.

There are a number of hummable and more immediately accessible moments on this album too, but I think it’s best to give Young Family Song a close listen and just get lost in it, as every spin seems to reveal new details to enjoy. That might be too heavy a burden if you’re just looking for some background music, but there’s a real joy to continuing to unfold new layers from this album, and I don’t expect to have it fully figured out any time soon.

This post was originally written for and republished from KQED Interactive.

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Port O’Brien, claimed by both the Bay Area and the Central Coast as their own, has been continuously growing in popularity as their music moves beyond the college radio curcuit and across the country. The band’s indie-infused folk tunes are painfully catchy, tugging at heart strings and boot straps alike.

Port O’Brien’s new album All We Could Do Was Sing (released Tuesday, May 13, 2008) is a fantastic collection of songs written while the band was living on a fishing boat in Alaska for the summer. The album is exhilarating and refreshing, yet cold and lonely at times, reflecting the idyllic setting in which it was written.

The opening track “I Woke Up Today” feels like a modern day “We Will Rock You,” only with a much less forceful message — the kind of tune that you and might sing (or yell) along to while cruising the sidewalks or jumping for joy. These anthemic group vocals have popped up many times in recent indie music, and while it’s not hard to see it getting old, Port O’Brien certainly does it best.
It takes a moment to get past some of the clearly out-of-tune (I suppose “dissonant” is a kinder word) vocals in songs like “In Vino Veritas,” but it’s evident that they’re trying to make that a style of sorts — slightly flawed recordings that feel real and not plastic. Listen to it a few times and the tinge of discomfort fades.

A highlight of the album is “Close the Lid,” a tune that builds from a simple, stripped-down melody to a danceable, guitar solo-injected rock tune. Some of the lyrics are heart-wrenchingly cute: “I’m not afraid to die / as long as you’re by my side / we can sleep the whole year through.” But this song is the perfect example of the somewhat ambiguous themes that pervade the album — switching between this familiar bliss and the isolation and conflict of being alone: “…we are on the brink / of a long civil war / between my heart and yours / we will fight by ourselves.”

This ambivalence is repeated many times throughout the album, with a recurring theme of true love conflicted with isolation, cold, and what goes through your mind when your mind is all you’ve got. The effecting melodies and lyrics are supplemented with simple string parts and lots of percussion. On the lighter side of the album is the stunning “Will You Be There,” the kind of achingly sweet song that sticks with you for days.

For the live shows, guitarist/vocalist Van Pierszalowski leads the band with an Elvis-like snarl and an excess of charisma. The band’s chemistry and love of the music comes out in full force.

This post was originally written for and republished from KQED Interactive.

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For the past several years, guitarist Meric Long and drummer Logan Kroeber — collectively The Dodos — have been criss-crossing the country, delivering audiences the propulsive folk-rock sound that has made them one of 2008′s most acclaimed bands. Propulsive might actually be an understatement to describe the two, as the group’s dynamic songs often find Long fingerpicking and strumming his acoustic guitar at a feverish pace while Kroeber channels his background in heavy metal into a thundering percussive racket. For an audience member, it feels like there’s always the potential for the whole thing to fly off the rails, but the two have developed such a chemistry that instead the group excels, weaving deftly between tender moments and furious crescendoes.

Released in March on French Kiss Records, the band’s new album, Visiter, captures this chemistry wonderfully, offering a very strong collection of songs that is rightfully earning them international critical praise. Smart production helps capture much of The Dodos’ big live sound. Kroeber’s tom-tom drums sound particularly thick as they guide the songs, while liberal reverb intensify the clang and frenzy of vocals, guitar, and drums alike. Smart use of layered instrumentation, stereo and space make Visiter a record that richly rewards detailed listening with a good pair of headphones.

As Meric Long sings in “Fools,” The Dodos are indeed “wandering” musicians, touching a number of different styles of rock music over Visiter’s hour length. Fans of the group’s first album, Beware of the Maniacs, will welcome the melodic folk-pop found in a number of songs, but they might be surprised by the band’s willingness to delve into more progressive and psychedelic heavy rock terrain as well. Several tracks clock in at over six minutes, showcasing the band’s ability to write multi-movement pieces buoyed by performance skills that keep them moving at a brisk pace. Long’s lyrics, meanwhile, are relatively restrained, offering sketches of personal relationships and introspective self-examination that allow for multiple listener interpretations.

While the album’s sonic breadth keeps it challenging, the CD may suffer a lack of overall cohesion. It’s a feeling that diminishes with repeated listens, although the latter half still retains a little bit of a pinball feel, bouncing between more challenging prog songs and more immediately accessible pop ones. Kroeber and Long succeed most when they find a balance between the two extremes, as terrific songs like “Jodi” prove that they can use psychier elements and sophisticated composition alongside thoroughly hummable melodies. All told, there are a ton of great songs here, and fans of psych rock, folk and pop will find much to like in this excellent release.

This post was originally written for and republished from KQED Interactive.

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