Heirlooms of August show potential with folk/country blend

Alright, I've got one for all you country/folk fans. In the 90s, Jerry Vessel played bass for the Red House Painters while Mark Kozelek stole the show. But with his new project, Heirlooms of August, Vessel boldly announces that he's ready to step out from behind the curtain and show off his own songwriting skills.

Forever the Moon is chock full of acoustic folk, a dash of country, and vividly realized pastoral imagery. You'll hear your fair share of tunes about a guy in a straw hat planting tomatoes on a hot summer day.

The album's most standout attribute are the harmonies delivered by Vessel and Vivian Ginn. It's similar to many of the great male/female harmony combos: Alison Krauss and Union Station, Gillian Welch and Colin Meloy; perhaps even Win Butler and Régine Chassagne if either of them felt inclined to pick up a banjo.

There are some very well penned lyrics in place that pack an emotional punch. The title track is an ode to a father's love for his child. He talks about the birth of his son and then links it into an analogy about rain bringing new life to the earth. I find it a very nice touch.

"Anyway, Sweetness," is another gem. With lyrics that tell of the misdeeds and regrets of an alcoholic lover, it bears resemblance to Brad Paisley's and Krauss's "Whiskey Lullaby."

Other standouts include "Annie," the tale of a knockout cello player, and "Beautiful Summer," a tune dedicated to drinking lemonade, watching baseball, and playing hide and seek on a hot summer day. Vessel sings mostly solo here, allowing his husky, mellow voice to shine through. He sounds okay, but is better when singing with Ginn.

However, the album does have it's share of problems. The harmonies are a nice touch, but the arrangements honestly aren't all that clever. Most of the time both vocalists sing the same notes, just in a different octave. It's alright, but a little more creativity would go a long way.

The songwriting itself is hit or miss. Some of the concepts are well thought out, but aren't properly executed or are awkwardly juxtaposed.

The biggest offender is "Blackness from Blue." Musically and concept-wise, this is one of my favorite songs, but the way in which the story is told is a total mess. Vessel begins by singing about his brother, who has a deep love for some woman.

But a couple stanzas in he ditches that idea to sing about his child and how she almost died, or at least I think it's about his child. He's addressing the song to a particular subject, but it isn't clear if he's singing to his child or about his child.

Later, he talks about taking her to a festival and giving her his hand. So at this point he's clearly talking about a love interest, but when the transition came between singing about his child and lover is pretty murky.

By the end, whoever he's singing about dies and then apparently never existed in the first place; he reveals he dreamed her up his mind. By this point I'm too confused trying to figure out who died and what happened to his kid and what the hell his brother had to do with anything. And I still never found out who he's addressing the song to!

Then you have "A Flower My Love Grows," which seems to have some difficulty wrapping its lyrics around the meter of the song in the first place. Then you have this awkward anti-Christian phrase juxtaposed in near the end which makes no sense and seems wildly out of place. Have a look:

"And I know why some folks like to dream of heaven
but I don't believe anything they claim
and all the Jesus freaks seem so obsolete
and for them I've nothing but my scorn and rage"

Slapped right in the middle of a song about enjoying the finer things in life. All my scorn and rage? The Jesus freaks are obsolete?  This is an album about peace, tranquility, and enjoying a baseball game on a summer day. Where on earth did this come from?

Tobymac does not approve, and neither do I.

And on the closing track, Vessel makes the outrageous claim that children are practically the only decent people on earth. Sorry Mother Teresa. Guess that excludes you.

Mother Teresa: Clearly a douchebag.

"Marianna's Peace" begins with a great melody, but there are several tempo changes that keep popping up which continually speed up and slow down the song, and it severely messes with the flow.  Potentially a really nice song that's marred by some questionable composition.

In all, this really isn't a terrible album. Despite its oddities, it does a commendable job of setting that planting seeds in your orchard with an old oil lamp by your side type of feel. And it packs some nice tunes.  

Forever the Moon won't be the greatest album you'll hear this year but if you're a fan of intimate, stripped back folk ala Fleet Foxes or Bon Iver, or if you're looking for something countryish without the overkill Nashville spitshine, you may find much to like here.

Score: 69/100

Merrill Garbus's w h o k i l l is tuned to perfection

Is there still doubt that Merrill Garbus is one of the most unique and fascinating singers and writers out there? If so, then hopefully her second full length, w h o k i l l, will do much to displace that.
 
BiRd-BrAiNs, Garbus's first album under the moniker tUnE-yArDs, was a thought provoking collection of home recordings with dynamic arrangements and rather tinny audio quality. On w h o k i l l, she's gotten a big boost with the addition of bassist Nate Brenner, along with clearer audio quality, but the spirit is the same.

That she would choose to add a bassist says a great deal.  Garbus is a percussion and rhythm minded musician, and this philosophy lays the entire foundation for what goes on here.

Take a look at "Gangsta." It starts off with Garbus pounding a pair of large African drums, then an ear grabbing distorted bass enters the mix, and you have the basic beat which the rest of the song will play off of.

There is also a dash of world music aesthetic introduced via jazzy African horns, drums, and vocal arrangements which pop up periodically throughout the album.

Speaking of vocals - there's few who do it like Garbus, and it's a true spectacle.

Garbus is a intense performer with a powerful voice and style all her own. On stage, she can often be seen manning a ukelele or banging a giant tribal drum. She uses her voice not only for singing but also to create certain effects that fit with the music. Her voice can go from being rough, low pitched and manly to being airy and feminine and back again several times within a single verse or chorus.

By extension, there is quite a bit of musical ground that is covered on this record. "Es-so," which speaks of the pressures on women to stay physically fit, is a groovy tune with a slightly ominous feel.

"Powa" is a mellow, emotional tune about sexuality, while "Killa" boasts bonafide pop hooks and spotlights political braggadocio from Garbus that calls to mind Kim Gordon of Sonic Youth.

But most chilling of all is the off kilter lullaby "Wooly Wolly Gong, which combines lo-fi acoustic guitar, Merrill's hushed vocals, and an eerie set of lyrics to create something both truly beautiful yet deeply unsettling.

Other highlights? Besides the whole disc? The rockin' "You Yes You," and the jazzy world fusion of "Riotriot" are also standouts.

And I would be remiss not to touch on Garbus's attitude and lyrics, which is also a key part of the tUnE-yArDs formula. I feel these capture her essence pretty well:

"There is a freedom in violence that I don't understand. And like I've never felt before."

"I'm a new kind of woman; I'm a new kind of woman. I'm a don't take shit from you kind of woman."

"Now that everything is gonna be okay/ now that everything is gonna be alright. What if baby I cannot see the sound/what if baby I cannot hear the light?"

There are several different levels of depth to the lyrics, which provides a welcome level of complexity. Most of the topics on the album deal with femininity, sexuality, or violence.

No question this is one of my favorite records of the year - Garbus's individuality and creative energy are second to none right now.

w h o k i l l reflects a refreshing and bold attitude from an emerging artist, who's here to let everyone know she's one of the most enterprising and unique voices you'll hear in 2011.

Sing it, sister.

Score: 93/100

Incubus proves less is not more with latest album

Since emerging from Calabasas, California in the early 90s, alt rockers Incubus have developed a reputation for taking a different musical approach on every record.

No two Incubus discs are the same, they used to say, and I suppose you could argue that's the case today. But on their more recent records it seems like they're just looking for a different way of doing the same thing.

Once, Incubus was cool because they stood out from the crowd. When they were first getting big, circa late 90s and early 2000s, nu metal was the big thing. Those days it seemed like the "vocalist" for just about every band was some asshat wannabe rapper wearing a red baseball cap, backed by a clueless guitarist who did little but chug away on his E string.

Incubus wasn't like that. They put their focus where it mattered: on composition, musicianship, and writing. Plus they had a vocalist who actually could sing.

At some point something changed. Up through Morning View, just about every song felt like a cohesive band effort. You could listen to each track and hear the influence each guy had on it.

But starting with A Crow Left of the Murder, there were several songs where I couldn't honestly say that was the case. Crow was front loaded with several pop hits which highly emphasized the role of the lead singer. But Incubus has always sounded best when the talents of each band member is being fully utilized.

Too bad that rarely happens on If Not Now, When?

Incubus has opted for a very mellow, stripped back sound to accompany a set of straightforward hook driven pop songs. Instrumentation is minimal; there's an extremely simple drum beat on almost every song, along with maybe piano or keys.  Guitar fades into the background so seamlessly you'll barely notice it's there.

This is easily Incubus at their most one dimensional. Their past albums spotlighted a variety of styles, but here there is very little diversity or variety from track to track. There's nothing wrong with having pop songs at a middling pace with bass, drums, and vocals, but it becomes an issue when that's all you do.

But it can't be all bad, right? After all, these guys have the mighty Mike Enzinger on the six string. I'd be hard pressed to think of another guitarist with a play style resembling anything like what he does, and I can't picture Incubus without him.

But the shame of it is, is that you barely get to hear him on this record. I had to check the booklet just to make sure he was actually still even in the band. His signature sound is MIA on the first three tracks, and it isn't until "Thieves" we get a reminder he's still here. Even so, it's just a fleeting riff here, a simple pattern there. He's got a nice solo on "Adolescents," but by then it's too little too late.

It doesn't help that every song sounds like it was written for a 16-year-old girl. "Promises, Promises" features some dopey drivel about Brandon finding himself or some shit, "Thieves" sees him mumbling some gibberish about a god fearing white American, and on "Friends and Lovers," we get to witness Boyd's moving argument that being a friend and a lover is totally a-ok.

Now before you typecast me as some dreadlocked, herb smoking Incuphile who hated everything after S.C.I.E.N.C.E. consider that I liked much of the writing on their later albums. Yes, it's not just that the writing is bad on this album, it's even a downgrade from their more recent material.

Take a song like "Dig," for instance. It's a thought provoking tune that measures the complexity of human relationships and emotion, all while cleverly wrapping it in a double meaning based on the word dig.

"Agoraphobia" is a song based on a sensation of constant fear and panic which managed to tap into your emotional circuitry in a way you wouldn't think. The best line on If Not Now, When? features Brandon getting mobbed by some freaky chick in a black hat and thigh highs.

There are some positives. "Isadore" is a nice breezy song with a cool melody. The rhythm section gets its chance to shine on "Switchblade," which features a rippling bass line and a groovy, propulsive drum beat that ever so slightly reminds us of Incubus's funky roots.

But the real gem is "In the Company of Wolves," which truly does sound like something Incubus has never done before. It starts off with a type of 70s prog folkish riff. Then when the vocals come in, you'll wonder if the band changed singers. But no, you'll quickly realize, it  is Brandon, singing at the top of his octave range, which we've rarely heard before.

It gives off kind of a 70s-ish "Behind Blue Eyes" type of vibe. Things get even stranger in the second half, when the song builds up to a fuzzy, noise type crescendo, with the effect of an emotional catharsis.

And that brings us around to Brandon. For the most part, he does a fine job on this album. The issue is that he has to carry it all on his own, due to the way the music is arranged.

Surely there will people who would like this record. If you're a fan of pop music, or if you like strong male vocalists, If Not Now, When? might be right for you. Specifically, if your ideal Incubus track is something like Paper Shoes, Dig, or Mexico, this album might be a good investment.

But there's another brand of Incubus fan out there, the type that likes the funky zany shit; the type that likes to headbang to "Blood on the Ground" or "Light Grenades" while also having something catchy thrown in.

In my mind, I can visualize what I think they were going for with this stripped back approach. Probably a quiet, intimate record along the lines of Phil Selway or Nirvana Unplugged. But the in your face pop vibe makes that nigh on impossible to pull off.

Brandon is no longer the same guy who tried to call AAA but his card was expired. And as I said at the beginning, the past few Incubus records have been a slightly different way of doing the same thing - repackaging pop hits. It's just that If Not Now, When? drives that point home like none other.

Score: 55/100

Fleet foxes folk/indie recipie will leave you helpless to resist

There is something purifying about the influence and effect of nature on the human soul. The music of the Fleet Foxes pulses through forest streams, manifests itself in green leaves, and will nestle itself into your eardrums like a tune from a fleeting songbird.

The band began turning heads with the mix of folk and pastoral imagery on their 2008 self-titled debut, but the release of Helplessness Blues adds to the formula and catapults it into another dimension.

Being a fan of indie folk, I was drawn in by the pre-release buzz surrounding the band and album. And the layout of the photos and tracklisting on the back reminded me a lot of Let It Be, a nice touch.

But when I popped this disc in I realzied it wasn't quite what I was expecting. This isn't your Bright Eyes, Iron & Wine, and The Tallest Man on Earth type of flolk; Helplessness Blues is more akin to the 70s singer/songwriter Crosby, Stills, and Nash type of folk. This is music to make you want to button up your tunic and go hunt buffalo on the Great Plains.

One of the main keys to what's going on here are the richly textured melodies and harmonies that sound as though they're descending from heaven. It's all layered atop a patchwork of intensely personal acoustic guitar passages, pianos, mandolins, marxophones, harpsichords, and even Tibetian singing bowls.

At the center of it all is Robin Pecknold's smooth, mellow cadence. One of his highlight pieces is "The Shrine/An Argument," which is one of the rare instances where he gets to show off the raw power of his voice, along with his magnificent range.

The lyric writing is also standout. They possess a very heartfealt quality to them while also being very colorful and detalied. "Lorelai" sees the speaker recalling a past love, a topic that's been covered many a time. But take a look at the way it's done here:

"You, you were like glue
Holding each of us together
I slept through July
While you made lines in the heather

I was old news to you then
Old news, old news to you then"

It creates a much more fully fleshed out picture you can easily see in your mind's eye.
"Bedouin Dress" was one of my favorite tracks, which speaks of the regret that a former thief/criminal has when looking back on the days of their youth. In it, the speaker yearns to return to Innisfree, an island well known in Irish lore/culture, but can't due to the choices he made.

"Lorelai" waltzes by at a nice easygoing pace and melody, while "Sim Salla Bim" and "Someone You'd Admire" strike a wistful, pensive mood. Truly, almost every song on the record is a highlight, but Helplessness Blues's title track shines brightest.

It is a combination of spitfire acoustic strumming, heady lyrics about finding yourself and taking a stand, and features a breathtaking shift in time signature near the song's conclusion. The fantastic imagery in the second verse shows off the brilliance of Pecknold's writing:

"What's my name, what's my station
oh, just tell me what i should do
I don't need to be kind to the armies of night
that would do such injustice to you.

Or, bow down and be grateful
and say " sure, take all that you see"
to the men who move only in dimly lit halls
and determine my future for me."

With Helplessness Blues, the Fleet Foxes have created a work that is fresh, bold, and adventureous. It is a fantastic record and is already one of the top statements of the year thanks to all the wonderful melodies, writing and moods that I can keep coming back to time after time.

Score: 95/100

Expect to be sucked into the undertow by Obscura's Omnivium

A technical death metal band is a unique specimen. There are oceans of musicians capable of shredding your guts out, but far fewer who can lay down mind bending pyrotechnics while also crafting a creative, compelling, and captivating product.

When I reviewed Cosmogenesis, the second album from German tech death lords Obscura in 2009, I was less than impressed. Admittedly, I'm not huge on the genre, but I saw it as little more than technical spammery with much to be desired in heart and soul.

I advised the band to take its songwriting as seriously as it did its instrumentation.

Lo and behold, it seems they listened.

The band's new album isn't a success because it lacks for highly technical guitar and drum parts - trust me, there's still plenty of those. Rather, Omnivium shines due to its sense of variety.

Think of it this way: Cosmogenesis is a large slab of meat, naked, with nothing fancy added to it. On Omnivium, the band takes that piece of meat and blends an array of seasonings, spices, and herbs to the mix until it's richly textured and gives off a much a stronger zest.

Acoustic sections, clean vocals, and cleverly arranged melodic breakdowns - these were present in Cosmogenesis, I won't deny. But this time Obscura is able to utilize these tools in a way they weren't able to before.

Rather than focusing on slam and bang, there is an emphasis on trying to change things up so that each song has its own distinct flavor.

Take the opener, Septuagint, for example. It begins with a relaxing, gentle acoustic passage which leads into a neoclassical metal buildup that draws strong parallels to Metallica's "Battery," before charging headlong into an inferno of extreme metal. Not a very original way to open an album, but the riffs are well written. Listening to that acoustic passage is like crack.

This leads into Vortex Omnivium, an all out feast of technical death mastery, which should appeal strongly to fans of Cosmogenesis. After that you get Ocean Gateways, an all out oppressively dark and brutal slab of death metal decked out with continual double bass and bestial vocals that sound as though they could have been pulled from a seance gone horribly wrong.

As always, guitarists Steffen Kummerer and Christian Muenzner, along with the fretless wonder, bassist Jeroen Paul Thesseling, put on a clinic. And don't even me started on drummer Hannes Grossmann.

His mastery of speed, timing, and technicality is such that it is rarely seen even in other tech death bands.It brings to mind the way Mike Sus of Possessed used to sweat it out while playing the Seven Churches album on tour.

Kummerer, who also handles vocals, does a commendable job, though vocal quality isn't the focal point in a work like Omnivium. Kummerer's words drift like whitecaps over an ocean of interlocking riffs and rhythms, sometimes turbulent and hectic, other times slow and grinding, and occasionally peaceful and serene.

And, like last time, the production is still top notch. The lyrics are similar in tone to those of the last album, with an emphasis on a journey through the cosmos.

Cosmogenesis is a well respected album, to be sure, and it's a great work for fans of highly technical death. But Omnivium is much more likely to resonate among metal fans of any background, which should hopefully lead to greater exposure for this band who prove they can shred and write.

Score: 85/100

Vijay Iyer's Tirtha writes the textbook on Indian/jazz fusion

Those of you who read my postings with any regularity will know that I'm not apt to confine myself to one particular type of music or linger too long on one particular musical approach.

Which is why it bemuses me that I haven't  incorporated any jazz music into my canon, or why I haven't made mention of a character as intriguing as Vijay Iyer.

Vijay, is, as you might guess, of Indian descent, but calls New York his birthplace.

If you're not  too keen on modern jazz, you could find a much worse starting point than Iyer. The self taught pianist has established a mammoth reputation among jazz fans and critics. His music has generally had somewhat elegant feel; it has typically given off a feeling of high intellect, without ever becoming pompous or over the top.

On Tirtha, Iyer proposes a curious experiment - free flowing western jazz melded with the music of classical India. He has a pair of buddies joining him here - Prasanna, who plays guitar and does some vocal work, and Nitin Mitta, laying down percussion by way of his tabla.

Despite what seems to be two wildly clashing musical styles, the trio comes together as a tight cohesive unit. Everything complements each other perfectly, and their technical ability with their instruments is astounding. Tirtha is an album best appreciated by someone who has a solid understanding of the nuances and subtleties of the musicianship.

If there's a downside it's that there isn't much feeling or emotion in the music but there is a distinctly academic mood to the recording, sounding like something you could expect to hear in a museum or as a background to a philisophical discussion. It doesn't inspire the warmest of feelings but it is unique.

But is it worth it to put the extra effort in to get what Iyer is trying to put forth in this album? For long time Iyer fans, you already know what to expect. For newcomers, this isn't the album to start with.

The east meets west blend is fascinating, but it's important to get a sense of what Iyer is like on his own by picking up his solo record, Solo, from last year or 2009's Historicity. 

Score: 79/100

Conor Oberst out of Key on latest from Bright Eyes

Something's not quite right with Conor Oberst.

The point man behind Bright Eyes established himself as a legend in the indie scene when he self released his debut album at the age of 14 and piloted his own record label from the ground up.

Since then Oberst has watched his profile steadily rise, peaking with arguably his greatest work with 2005's I'm Wide Awake It's Morning. After nearly two decades, there is talk that the band's latest release, The People's Key, may be it's last.

If that's so, it's a real shame. The People's Key is far from being a good album.

 Bright Eyes has historically been known for Oberst's folksy, singer/songwriter, roots style approach. The new LP abandons that in favor of a more alternative vein, emphasizing the sound of the band as a whole. In the process he's managed to rip out everything that made Bright Eyes what it is.

It's risky business for an artist to dramatically alter their musical makeup. Radiohead showed it could work by whitewashing their Brit-rock roots on Kid A. More recently, Deerhunter's Halcyon Digest demonstrated how to mold a simpler, pop-based song structure while still keeping the core elements of their sound intact.

The People's Key, on the other hand, quite simply lacks the power, emotion, and immediacy heard in the band's prior works  The first thing that jumps out is the lack of distinctive melodies; most songs are carried along by the same recycled bouncy beat, supplemented by keyboards.

The lead single, "Shell Games," is the catchiest tune on disc, making it a sure highlight. "Triple Spiral" is alright too, I suppose.

Periodically throughout the disc you'll hear from a narrator who sounds like a slightly more intelligent version of Randy from My Name is Earl. He has some interesting things to say, but suffers from being too wordy and takes too long to get to his point.

And that's perhaps the problem with the lyrics on this album in general. As always, Mr. Oberst has some great words to share, but you have to dig for it. Whereas on earlier material he's made a point of setting a scene or creating a mood much more immediately.

Compare what you get to here to the soul baring confession of "First Day of My Life," or the sense of urgency on "At the Bottom of Everything," both from I'm Wide Awake It's Morning.

For that matter, take a glimpse at the opening of "Four Winds," the lead single from 2007's Cassadaga:

"Your class, your caste, your country, sect, your name or your tribe
There is people always dying trying to keep them alive."

A knockout political salvo in just two lines. And catchy as hell too.

If there is one song that comes close to recapturing Oberst's glory it is "Ladder Song," near the album's close. The lonely piano and haunted vocal immediately evoke a feeling of desolation and loss, and stands out above most everything else on the disc.

The People's Key is certainly listenable and not a bad effort per se, but there isn't much redeeming about it. It's not about the shift in sound for me. Bright Eyes is a band perfectly capable of pulling off the alternative vibe; they just didn't nail it here.

Next time I'll take catchier melodies and ACTUALLY showing a sense of emotion, please and thank you.

Score: 65/100