The album opens with its own thing, like if Britpop could boogie. Coming from Josh Chicoine, current artistic director and co-founder of CIMMfest, the music is a natural extension of all his previous work. Sabers play pop-rock with an adventurous edge. Sure, it’s pretty and pop-tinged, but so were The M’s, Chicoine’s previous outlet, a group with harmonies so sweet that they won over a whole new audience via an appearance on the big-budget video game MLB2K7, right alongside The Stooges, Nirvana and 311. But “Sic Semper Sabers” is its own thing. The track “Money Eddie” cloaks its charming verses in a sinister swirl of synth and bombastic beats, somewhere between The Beta Band and The Flaming Lips. On “Remedy,” all the flourishes of orchestral instrumentation shine bright courtesy of Max Crawford’s wonderful horn section lifting a wilting refrain to a summer simmer. “Ever Eyeing” has a beautiful build-up where Chicoine’s falsetto meets a handclap crescendo; while “Puppet” has the type of mocking melody that a taunting toddler would issue. Take your pick, Sabers’ debut is full of playful, impactful, well… hits! Okay, maybe not if measured by units sold, but in some alternate version of America (maybe even the one in your own backyard) Josh Chicoine is making compelling music to widespread acclaim. Read the rest of this entry »
Her work’s been included on so many year-end lists, it’d be difficult to remain unfamiliar with Cate Le Bon. All the superfluous name dropping to describe what she’s doin’ seems pretty pointless, though. Suffice it to say, she’s Welsh and clearly has an affinity as much for pop as weirdo subterra musics. What can’t be overstated about Le Bon’s songs, however, is that the eerie quality her voice lends to any of those simply constructed works is lacking in just about every other contemporary catalog. Starting with 2009’s “Me Oh My,” the songwriter tossed off bizarre narratives about becoming other people by donning their clothing. The surrealism is cut by Le Bon’s exacting songs—there’s not too much more than a guitar-bass-drums setup—and the dour tone in her voice. Read the rest of this entry »
What’s in a name? Perfect Pussy are not the first band to evoke the female anatomy using that particular nomenclature, nor the most shocking, though their use may be the most meaningful. Meaning, truth, honesty, these are the hallmarks of singer/screamer Meredith Graves, who derived the name as an antagonistic form of optimism—a rejection of gender specific self-criticism. Her lyrics follow suit, a platform for feelings on interpersonal relationships, on sex, on internal peace. Confrontation via explicit language is not a new tool for an American artist to employ, yet Graves and company have found themselves on the receiving end of some powerful publicity anyway. Read the rest of this entry »
Had Ryley Walker pursued any other art form, say painting for instance, “The West Wind” would have been met with universal acclaim, a minor masterpiece announcing the arrival of an immense talent promising a tremendous wealth of future creative output. That Walker’s dedication to formalism yielded a recording indistinguishable from the sixties British folk it pays homage to is remarkable not only for its achievement of authenticity, but for its singularity at this historical moment. No other artist in Chicago or anywhere else offers an accurate comparison for Walker’s unique voice and playing style, a commitment to a time and place far removed from his peers, an unmistakable presence that transcends music scenes littered with land-mines laid by careerists in the name of contemporary cool. Read the rest of this entry »
The maturation of rock ’n’ roll hasn’t happened in any noticeable form over the last thirty-five years. Even back then, it was really just a regression to primeval tendencies that’d been glossed over amid blowin’ rails with some West Coast A&R man.
Sweden’s Holograms haven’t revolutionized the genre, but the quartet’s been at work trying to inject punk and its satellite musics with even a twinge of immediacy. They’ve succeeded sporadically on “Forever,” a follow-up to last year’s self-titled debut.
“It’s a lot of philosophical questions about life,” Andreas Lagerström, the ensemble’s frontman, says of his new work’s lyrical penchant. Most listeners would be able to guess that after pushing through the most pensive track “Rush” and its manic proclamations of how difficult it is to spark fire at the ocean’s bottom. Read the rest of this entry »
He’s included mention of Jay Z in at least a few verses, and reviewed “Watch the Throne” for the National Post. The decided focus Shad, a Kenya-born, Ontario-raised MC, has put on one of the most popular rappers in the world is a bit confusing. Yeah, he’s rich and his buddy’s married to a Kardashian, but neither of those things has made his bloated discography anything other than middling. Shad shouldn’t carry around the desire to be a Jay Z, as he spits out pretty early on his fourth long-player, “Flying Colours.” Jay Z’s “Magna Carta” was another lame recording, and Shad’s apparently been gripped by enough inspiration to issue not just that fourth album, but a collaboration with Skratch Bastid, “The Spring Up,” in 2013. Beyond the guy’s clear ability to select proper production and write rhymes (that might not move too far beyond what we’ve all come to know as conscious raps), his story’s significantly more engaging than that New York MC’s. Shad’s family left Kenya, something he mentions on most of his releases, when he was a kid. But the successes his family’s achieved, cataloged on “Fam Jam (Fe Sum Immigrins),” pretty easily trumps bein’ poor, slingin’ crack, and issuing a truckload of boring albums. Read the rest of this entry »
Music is alive and well and living in Chicago.
While that once might have meant records and radio and bands being signed to major labels, it’s a much more complex score these days, with artists and venues more entrepreneurial than ever. But at the core is the shift in emphasis from recorded to live music, and it’s a change that’s made Chicago a town of festivals, from the city’s bedrock blues, jazz, gospel and world music festivals, to Lollapalooza and Pitchfork, to the new electronic dance music festivals—Spring Awakening, Wavefront and North Coast—as well as the explosive growth of an old one, the Chosen Few DJs Picnic. With these shifts, the players are changing too; since we last made this list of the behind-the-scenesters, the power list if you will, most of the list has changed. This year’s forty-five include twenty-six folks who were not on the list that last time in 2009. (Brian Hieggelke)
Music 45 was written by Brian Hieggelke, Dennis Polkow and Kenneth Preski, with additional contributions by Dave Cantor, Keidra Chaney, Dylan Peterson, John Wilmes and B. David Zarley. See previous years here. Read the rest of this entry »
Getting high and setting the results to tape has worked in so many different instances that Dinosaur Jr.’s sometimes basser Lou Barlow must have had some idea he was embarking on a lasting project back in the eighties when he started issuing work under the name Sebadoh. Being removed from the Dinos only forced the songwriter to focus his bewildered efforts on his then-newer work. The creepy narrative found on “Little Man” from “The Freed Man” album summons a similar vibe as the Velvet’s “The Gift,” apart from the fact that only the latter offers anything in the way of musical ingenuity. Read the rest of this entry »
If you toss on the right disc, and wait just long enough, Busdriver raps. And when he raps, hip-hop’s full promise is realized. But only for a few moments. Since the beginning of his career, the SoCal MC’s swayed back and forth between an updated digital boom-bap and works that rank as electro-pop. Over the course of “Memoirs of the Elephant Man” and “Temporary Forever” most of American culture’s taken to task, with a few tossed-off songs touching on relationships included for good measure. The MC’s collaboration with various Project Blowed performers, though, helped nab some attention for those early discs. And by the time Busdriver recorded as The Weather with Radioinactive and Daedelus in 2003, the MC had solidified his oddly pitched and uniquely syncopated flow. Read the rest of this entry »
The fact that this Montreal-based band writes most of their material in French should not be a reason for alt-rock fans not to check them out. These guys have been packing venues with 3000-plus capacity back home while performing at much smaller rooms in the United States, but it’s just a matter of time before they are discovered by more mainstream audiences Stateside, in the same manner that folks like Manu Chao and Sigur Rós have before them.
Their sound is pretty aggressive. Guitarist and vocalist Louis-Jean Cormier sings and plays with great passion, and his band mates (keyboardist François Lafontaine, bass guitarist Martin Lamontagne, percussionist Julien Sagot, and drummer Stéphane Bergeron) keep up with gusto in tunes like the psychedelic-inspired “Le Pyromane” (from their recently released “Les Chemins De Verre”) or the grunge-y “Le Coup D’ Etat.” Read the rest of this entry »