Radiohead- The King of Limbs Review

A new Radiohead (@radiohead) record release is treated like a holiday in certain circles. On Friday, when we were all greeted with the extraordinary news that Radiohead released their new album a day earlier than expected, we were sent into a feverish tizzy. What nuggets of sonic brilliance were set to caress our ears? What gifts of musical mastery could a new Radiohead record bestow upon us, the doting public? Shouts of “Happy Radiohead release day!” were heard ringing from the twitter mountaintops. It was a day of celebration and a day of glory. It’s hard to review a record that elicits such an uproarious response at the mere mention of its existence and availability.

In his spectacular review of Guns ‘N Roses Chinese Democracy, Chuck Klosterman compared the record to a unicorn, saying, “am I supposed to compare it to conventional horses? To a rhinoceros?” A new Radiohead record, though not necessarily 15 years in the making, has the same sort of expectations associated with it. It is a cultural event, the kind that creates shockwaves. There is no way anything can live up to hype like that, and yet, for many people the hype is justified and not enough. The people who love The King of Limbs were going to love it regardless; the people who don’t were going to dislike it regardless. That is the way things are when you stop being a band and start being a cultural force. I love The King of Limbs, but I’ve been a fan of Radiohead since I was five; I was predisposed to love it.

Coming in at just over a half hour, The King of Limbs it a tight, concise piece of music. It’s immaculately sculpted, every note has a purpose and packs a wallop. It shifts from melodically pleasing piano focused mood pieces like swirling “Codex” to skittish and rhythmically challenging “Feral.” They took the melody driven approach to In Rainbows and turned it inside out, creating a rhythm driven record that, while not forsaking melody entirely, definitely puts it on the back burner. Long gone are the guitar songs of the past, and in their place — atmospherics and some of the most idiosyncratic and interesting rhythms this side of Amnesiac.

Density is one of Radiohead’s specialties. Every record they have released requires multiple listens and complete attention. The King of Limbs continues this trend and elevates it to new heights. The album weaves together, creating a complex tapestry. Each song is interesting, and will yield a new experience with each listen. “Feral”, a knotted track with extraordinary layers, is a perfect example of this. Even the mellower, more conventional tracks take density to new heights, with beautiful minor harmonies and sounds swooping in and out.

At first look, The King of Limbs sounds like Kid A or the more jumpy tracks on In Rainbows, but with more and more listens The King of Limbs unravels it’s complex web of sounds and offers something more. It’s uniqueness is in it’s density and unrelenting complexity.

People who love Radiohead will love this record, people who don’t get the hype and lauding of the band, won’t. It’s great, like all Radiohead records are, and certainly deserves several attentive listens.

From The Wild Honey Pie: http://www.thewildhoneypie.com/radioheads-the-king-of-limbs/#more-16813

Okkervil Rive- I Am Very Far Review

Okkervil River (@okkervilriver) has always been on the back-burner for me: a band that I knew existed, a band I could ostensibly tell you what they sounded like, but never one that I could specifically talk about. They were a band with a face (or faces, I guess) and a name, but that was all. I know, I know, I was probably seriously missing out on something, but that’s just the way they were for me.

It was this nagging feeling that I was missing something, though, that made me jump at the chance to review their highly anticipated new album I Am Very Far. This was my chance to get into a band I had always just missed. I’m happy to report that from the first incredibly bombastic and foot-stompingly great song—I was hooked. I have about eight years of records to go back and intently listen to now, and I could not be happier about it.

“The Valley” has already earned a spot among the best track 1 side 1’s of the year. It’s a ruckus-inducing, blustery song that starts off a ruckus-inducing, blustery record on the perfect note. After the energy shot of “The Valley” it’s impossible not to listen to the rest of the record, and somehow Okkervil River manages to keep everything at an appropriately high level of energy for the remaining 47 minute run time.

The immediacy of “The Valley” never lets up, due in part to the expansiveness of the music and in part to the ever present urgency of singer Will Sheff’s voice. Even the mellower songs later in the album, though, have magnetism to them that hooks you and refuses to let go. “Hanging on a Hit” and “Show Yourself” offer a break from the loudness, but the constant threat of an explosion is ever present – creating a spectacular line of tension through out the tracks.

The album works in part due to the grandiosity and overwhelming catchiness of the songs and in part because within the loudness and chaos, the vividly poetic lyrics are not lost. I Am Very Far merits listen after listen not just because the melodies worm their way into your head, but because every listen yields another line on par with “ fallen in the valley of the rock ‘n’ roll dead.”

From The Wild Honey Pie: http://www.thewildhoneypie.com/okkervil-rivers-i-am-very-far-8-0/#more-19720

Fucked Up- David Comes To Life Review

Four years ago, a Toronto-based hardcore band with an incredibly hardcore name became critical darlings. Fucked Up’s The Chemistry of Common Life was one of the greatest and most interesting hardcore records in a long time. They took the confines of a genre and expanded them outwards—they added an artfulness to the anger of punk music that would have made the genre’s pioneers not only proud, but really fucking jealous. Fucked Up continues their habit of genre pushing iconoclasm with the spectacular David Comes to Life, a 78 minute rock opera.

David Comes to Life is not a record that can be listened to casually. It is dense in story, heavy in tone and there is little respite from the onslaught of Damien Abraham’s bellowing screams and the band’s motoring guitars. It is a record that has to be digested, considered and reconsidered. It is the definition of difficult music.

The story, broken into four acts, revolves around a boy named David who meets a girl named Veronica, and together they plan an act of violent protest. The protest, though, leads to the girl’s death, which forces David to live with incredible blame and guilt. It’s operatically tragic in story and operatically epic in scope.

While the literary aspect of the record is enough to cement it in the pantheon of great achievements (I haven’t even touched on the issues of reliable narration and meta-commentary that pop up through-out) there is also, of course, music to be considered. David Comes to Life contains nearly 80 minutes of driving, energetic rock deeply layered and sprinkled with flourishes. Even with the additions of harmonies and acoustic guitars, it’s still a punk record.

A narrative with this much intensity requires the rickety aesthetic of punk. Abraham’s growling and the band’s broken down sound make songs such as “Queen of Hearts” and “Inside a Frame” sound almost like the old school punk of New York City passed, full of passion and bile. The force, anger and energy of the record help with the understanding of the piece. No other genre would go so well with a story of youthful anger and philosophy than the genre created out of youthful anger and philosophy.

Thirteen years ago, Refused released a seminal and defining record: The Shape of Punk to Come. On it, they blended genres, waxed poetic and created an impossible beacon for all other hardcore punk bands to reach towards. No one band has taken the ideas set forth on The Shape of Punk to Come more to heart than Fucked Up, and no band has reached for Refused’s greatness more than Fucked Up. David Comes to Life is not easy listening, but like all hard records, it is also one that will be greatly remembered.

From The Wild Honey Pie: http://www.thewildhoneypie.com/fucked-ups-david-comes-to-life-9-0/

Fucked Up- David Comes To Life Review

Four years ago, a Toronto-based hardcore band with an incredibly hardcore name became critical darlings. Fucked Up’s The Chemistry of Common Life was one of the greatest and most interesting hardcore records in a long time. They took the confines of a genre and expanded them outwards—they added an artfulness to the anger of punk music that would have made the genre’s pioneers not only proud, but really fucking jealous. Fucked Up continues their habit of genre pushing iconoclasm with the spectacular David Comes to Life, a 78 minute rock opera.

David Comes to Life is not a record that can be listened to casually. It is dense in story, heavy in tone and there is little respite from the onslaught of Damien Abraham’s bellowing screams and the band’s motoring guitars. It is a record that has to be digested, considered and reconsidered. It is the definition of difficult music.

The story, broken into four acts, revolves around a boy named David who meets a girl named Veronica, and together they plan an act of violent protest. The protest, though, leads to the girl’s death, which forces David to live with incredible blame and guilt. It’s operatically tragic in story and operatically epic in scope.

While the literary aspect of the record is enough to cement it in the pantheon of great achievements (I haven’t even touched on the issues of reliable narration and meta-commentary that pop up through-out) there is also, of course, music to be considered. David Comes to Life contains nearly 80 minutes of driving, energetic rock deeply layered and sprinkled with flourishes. Even with the additions of harmonies and acoustic guitars, it’s still a punk record.

A narrative with this much intensity requires the rickety aesthetic of punk. Abraham’s growling and the band’s broken down sound make songs such as “Queen of Hearts” and “Inside a Frame” sound almost like the old school punk of New York City passed, full of passion and bile. The force, anger and energy of the record help with the understanding of the piece. No other genre would go so well with a story of youthful anger and philosophy than the genre created out of youthful anger and philosophy.

Thirteen years ago, Refused released a seminal and defining record: The Shape of Punk to Come. On it, they blended genres, waxed poetic and created an impossible beacon for all other hardcore punk bands to reach towards. No one band has taken the ideas set forth on The Shape of Punk to Come more to heart than Fucked Up, and no band has reached for Refused’s greatness more than Fucked Up. David Comes to Life is not easy listening, but like all hard records, it is also one that will be greatly remembered.

Beriut- The Rip TIde Review

Consistency often goes unsung. We get so used to impressive output from an artist that anything short of mind blowing is enjoyed, but not reveled in as is often deserved. On first listen The Rip Tide feels easy, familiar and simply glides off — it sounds great but not spectacular. That, however, is just the trap of consistency. Beirut’s (@beirutband) newest effort is one that remains and seeps for a long time, worming past the initial temperate reaction and creating a place for itself in heavy rotation.

In comparison with the vastness of 2009’s The March of Zapotec/Holland, with its experiments in mariachi band styling’s and electronic quirkiness, The Rip Tide feels quite tame with its homespun and more stripped down sound. The eastern European influences are still there, with horns and accordions a plenty, but the feel is less sweeping, less bombastic, and more introspective. Unlike the quirkiness off Zach Condon’s previous efforts, the glory of The Rip Tide lies in its quieter moments. The somber start of “Goshen”, the slow unfolding of “The Rip Tide” and the stunning depth of Condon’s voice on “The Peacock” are the moments that hold the record — none of the horns or bombast is required.

That’s not to say there aren’t glimmers of the younger Beirut. The final track, “Port of Call” sounds like the best of Gulag Okerstar, providing a taste of the band that we all fell in love with in the beginning. The fact that Condon no longer relies on those elements is a testament to how far he has come as a songwriter.

The easy feeling of the record is aided by its scant 33 minutes. It blows by quickly, though not without punch. Condon only put 9 songs on the record, but they were 9 carefully thought out, carefully crafted songs. There is absolutely no filler, no unnecessary moments. Each of the tracks is a gem, each holds their place perfectly and each has a place among the favorite list of Beirut fans.

The Rip Tide is a rare achievement — the kind of record that can be enjoyed in the background and can be listened to with headphones over and over. It is a record of depth and artistry and one that deserves to be listened to and reveled in. It is remarkable when an artist is able to create solid and interesting work time and time again.

From The Wild Honey Pie: http://www.thewildhoneypie.com/beiruts-the-rip-tide-9-0/

Pepper Rabbit- Red Velvet Snow Ball Review

Lush instrumentation and psychedelia have lately fallen out of favor in the LA music scene, giving way to the throwback beach pop that is currently infecting the blogosphere (we can’t really say airwaves anymore, can we). Hopefully Pepper Rabbit’s masterful sophomore album will bring lushness back into fashion.

Red Velvet Snowballs is truly a dense, beautiful record submerged in swirling soundscapes. In fact, I find it difficult to believe that its rich textures are the work of only two people. Xander Singh and Luc Laurent pile on the flourishes, from the twinkling pianos and alarm bells of the standout “Allison” to the electronic groaning and handclaps of “Rose Mary Stretch.” Where the addition of so much sound could overwhelm the album, making it buckle under it’s own weight, Pepper Rabbit manages to make their songs feel light and soaring. The key is the understated, though powerful vocals from Xander Singh that act as a grounded center piece and a rhythm section solid enough to allow for the extra weight.

Red Velvet Snowball is full of track after track of excellence, but the bookends “Lake House” and “Tiny Fingers” work perfectly together to sum up the accomplishment of such a spectacular record. “Lake House” builds slowly from it’s Fleet Foxes style, naturalist harmonies to an explosion of of noise and “Tiny Fingers” ends the record as a slow and beautiful ballad. With each song, Pepper Rabbit adds and subtracts sounds and layers, always managing to create something solidly enjoyable and infinitely re-listenable.

Though Red Velvet Snowball represents a different sound from their first release, the duo never fully give up the pop-rock backbone that drove Beauregard, allowing a full dissent into sonic experimentation. The album never feels like the work of a band playing with the parameters of their music. It never feels labored or bloatedly pretentious as these types of albums tend to be—it’s never less than completely enjoyable.

From The Wild Honey Pie: http://www.thewildhoneypie.com/pepper-rabbits-red-velvet-snowball-8-0/

Watch The Throne Review

Watch the Throne is an album best turned up to 11. It features more samples, hooks, guests, swagger and bombast then any releases in recent memory — it’s pure and glorious excess. Of course, what else is to be expected from the minds of Jay-Z (@jayz) and Kanye West (@kanyewest).

Watch the Throne is 12 tracks of solid gold hip hop bursting with hook after hook and rhyme after rhyme. While Jay-Z adds his lyrical brilliance to the record, West’s DNA is everywhere. With the onslaught of guests, many of whom were present on My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, and the same unrelenting pop master beats, the production mindset of West’s last album clearly followed him to this brief collaboration. Justin Vernon, Ellie Jackson of La Roux, Frank Ocean and Beyonce all loan their voices for choruses while Nina Simone, Otis Redding and Will Farrell can be found throughout in samples. It’s a fully stacked record that can’t help but feel large simply because, well, it’s large. In fact it’s giant.

The most gratifying part of Watch the Throne is the old school swagger that Jay-Z taught Kanye how to pull off – the type that was present before Kanye West made it fashionable to rap about self doubt and introspection. The sort of throwback hip hop present on “Ni**as in Paris” and “That’s My Bitch” [1]is infectious and fun, and they even throw in a quote from Blades of Glory for good measure. Even the weightier songs, like the spectacular opener “No Church in the Wild” and “Made in America”, have an element of lightness to them. They are products of playing around in a studio, but the genius is unmistakable.

Watch the Throne is a fantastic record and one of the best pop albums in a long time. It may not have the transcendent brilliance of My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy or Blueprint 2, but that was never the point. This is simply two of the most influential American artists alive recording because it’s all that know how to do. The result is a testament to pop music and a reminder that it doesn’t have to be shallow, commercial crap. Watch the Throne doesn’t reinvent the wheel but it adds some incredible gold rims.

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[1] Which, as Pitchfork notes, makes Justin Vernon (of Bon Iver) sound like the most funky man alive.

From The Wild Honey Pie : http://www.thewildhoneypie.com/jay-z-and-kanye-wests-watch-the-throne-9-0/