Cold War Kids – Behave Yourself

A couple of weeks ago, Cold War Kids released their follow up to their sophomore slump, Loyalty to Loyalty, with the stellar Behave Yourself EP.  Despite being only 14 minutes long, this record is as big of a step in the right direction as Loyalty was a step in the wrong direction.  After the release of the Loyalty in late 2008, followed by several poor reviews of their live shows, I had all but written them off when I heard Behave.  After grooving to, being swooned by and then being inspired by Behave Yourself, once again I find myself eagerly awaiting the next project from Cold War Kids.  Especially since I just recently heard that on their next record they are going to be working with producer Jacquire King, whose most recent credits include the new Norah Jones record, which we loved, and one of the best rock records of 2008, Kings of Leon’s Only By the Night.

Yeasayer “Odd Blood”

Brooklyn-based trio Yeasayer amble back from a three year self-induced exile with what sounds like a trippy jungle-clearing drum circle turned synth-heavy blip hop rave: Odd Blood. With their second full-length album, this tight-knit group of family members (lead singer and bassist are cousins) and childhood friends (lead singer and guitarist grew up ogether) step away from the urban folk roots of their acclaimed debut, All Hour Cymbals and reach out to an equally appealing subcategory of the musical spectrum, electronica. As on “Mondegreen” and “Love Me Girl,” quasi-frontman and lead singer Chris Keating occasionally takes a page out of Empire of the Sun’s book with his overly dramatic high-pitch utterances that cut the flow almost too noticeably.  Unlike Luke Steele though, Keating knows he is no the emperor of any celestial bodies – or dance floors for that matter. This sophomore release does not disappoint the anxious fan craving new tunes to fill their oversized headphones. Fortunately, Yeasayer has managed to find the happy medium between sticking to the familiar and experimenting with the foreign.

Although Odd Blood touches on styles from several eras of musical and artistic evolution, Yeasayer remains at its core a psychedelic band hat enjoys challenging itself.  Indeed the most spot-on description of their sound came from the three gentlemen themselves: “Middle Eastern-psych-snap-gospel.” Guitarist Anand Wilder steps up his game, innovating new and even more transcendent distortions for the ear’s pleasure.  “Strange Reunions” is a glorified jam session of which any Cry Baby critic would be proud. Bassist Ira Wolf Tuton proves he is certainly not afraid to fan the flames of experimentation; occasionally transforming his four strings into a digital flute like it is no big deal. The slow, tongue-in-cheek ins and outs of “The Children” display an unheard of grandeur for “that other string instrument” – the much-too-often ignored bass.  Vocalist Chris Keating shows the most noteworthy strokes of genius of the album; even if he is unwilling to admit it. Keating is the heart and soul of Yeasayer. He vents an increasing curiosity with synthesizers like a kid with a new toy on his hands, not quite fully mastering it before putting it to real use. Rolling and thumping through the thickets of raw poetry, the fatherly ballad that is “Ambling Alp” attests to Keating’s songwriting talent in case this whole keyboard business does not work out. No need for precautions though. The warped bass beats and oh-so-danceable ivory riffs of “Rome” form easily the best song of the album…and perhaps the year.

Often compared to the likes of Animal Collective, MGMT, and Grizzly Bear, Yeasayer despises the idea of “scenes” or any gathering of several artists dictating what sounds good or bad.  What sets these three musicians apart from other under-the-surface bands can be summed up with one word – chemistry.  As evident on their lovable, energetic La Blogotheque sessions, the members of Yeasayer know each other through and through, their strengths and weaknesses, their preferences and pet peeves. With only two songs under three minutes in length, this sophomore release proves that Yeasayer is no mere throwaway indie blip on the radar screen. Odd Blood begs for dissection, ushering forth new discoveries with every listen.

Better Than Radiohead?

Spoon – Transference (released Jan. 18th)

Grade: B-/B

For Fans of: Guster, The Shins, Liam Finn

I’m pretty surre I’ve heard the argument made that every album, first through eleventy-billionth, is a band’s most important effort. Essentially, if you put out a horrible album, it can kill your career. When you get to sixth, the pool for comparison thins, and (under certain circumstances) it becomes a success in and of itself. This is where we are with Spoon and their newest, Transference.

Now, as I thought of other bands with six or more albums, my mind was of course drawn to Radiohead and analogies ran wild (hence the title). In a very rough way, Spoon is in the same place Radiohead was in with the release of Hail to the Thief (bear with me). The major difference being, Spoon’s last two albums have been their most accessible, while Radiohead’s 4th and 5th efforts were almost intentionally alienating. Spoon has picked up a lot of steam since “Gimme Fiction,” including multiple songs being featured on NBC’s “Chuck.”  Accordingly, the boys were faced with a crossroad. A larger audience means more expectations.  A good band shakes them with style.  Radiohead (again same place, different circumstances) let loose and made the least accessible of their records with Hail to the Thief. Spoon, on the other hand, has taken a much more gradual step. (And no, I don’t think Spoon is better than Radiohead. Pshhh.)

On first listen, I was a little disappointed.  I kept waiting for the radio-esque single and killer hook along the lines of “Don’t You Evah” or “I Summon You,” but it never really came. I was guilty of wanting another Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga, but I got something different, a little more cohesive and a little darker.  And while I think there is a stronger glue holding Transference together than previous albums, the same cohesion has made it less memorable. By no means is Transference a flop.  It has its own staying power, but it isn’t a catchy staying power.

Spoon’s bread and butter lies in not trying too hard, and they haven’t fled camp.  The Spoon of old is recognizable, just with a few new tricks. They’ve been evolving over time, think “The Ghost of You Lingers,” and in due course Transference contains just a few more “Ghost”-like tracks. There is some synth-percussion on “Who Makes Your Money,” strange vocal delays on “Is Love Forever?,” and mid-song “I Saw the Light” completely changes directions, but for the most part it works.

Considering where Spoon is in their career, Transference makes sense. If they don’t start broadening out, all of their quirks will become predictably unpredictable. The same thing that has made Spoon so likable (simple, low-fi pop), is also their handcuff.  There is only so much you can do with a buzzy guitar, drum, and an old upright piano. I see Transference as being a sort of stepping stone.  A stepping stone with substance.  Not my favorite album of the young year, but one I’m glad to have in my library.

You can also check out a listen of the new album at NPR.

The Upward Spiral

All of There Is Love in You, especially “Circle,” sounds like the alley behind a gas station with the dusk melting in pools of motor oil. The songs are little beauties hidden in settings you never thought to look.

The bump of dance music is here, but warm, strong and nearly unrecognizable. Four Tet, a.k.a. Kieran Hebden, has always culled interesting electronic music from a sea of eclectic rhythms and sounds, but Love is more focused. It’s the melodic light of his past work, refracted through years of experience.

And that experience is collective: Hebden’s mentor is legendary jazz drummer Steve Reid, who played with Miles Davis, James Brown and Fela Kuti. Hebden, clearly an apt pupil, benefits from all these influences.

“This Unfolds” turns something of a Beck throwaway into Maynard James Keenan in space. The songs are eclectic but together in quiet shifts in tone. “Circling” has chopped vocals in an Afrobeat rhythm and a charming bell pattern. Everywhere, Love rescues childhood nostalgia from whimsy.

Diverse as the Hebden’s sampled sources are, the glue of Love is a song structure unique to dance music. New sounds emerge right on beat. These songs forever add to themselves, building till the end of every song is a whirling, euphoric wave of sounds.

But from where did this newfound joy come? “Pablo’s Heart,” a 12-second recording of a child’s heartbeat recorded on a cell phone, is indicative of Love as a whole. It’s like a dance in celebration of new life. Maybe Hebden’s introspection has upgraded, expanded outwardly.