[Proggy]
The Mars Volta
The Bedlam in Goliath
***
A couple of months ago, The Mars Volta offered a free cover of The Circle Jerks’ “Back Against the Wall” on its website, with one catch. To download it, fans had to successfully unscramble jumbled cover art from new album The Bedlam in Goliath. Strange, but also strangely appropriate, since the band’s music qualifies as both puzzling and headache-inducing in its own right.
Glancing at the track breakdown for TMV’s fourth full-length—12 songs, ranging from 2:37 to 9:32 in duration—it might be natural to assume prog-tastic songwriting pair Omar Rodriguez-Lopez and Cedric Bixler-Zavala have scaled back on the dense compositional and impenetrable lyrical craftsmanship that routinely pushed previous pieces well past the 10- and 20-minute marks. It would also be wrong. Bedlam is as crammed and incomprehensible as its predecessors, more so when the abundance of sonic mayhem that might have once spanned 12 minutes now squeezes into four.
The absence of longtime drummer Jon Theodore is perceptible; the back-end of the disc sputters a bit rhythmically without an experienced hand to steer through the chaos. Mostly, though, the new Mars Volta sounds a lot like the old Mars Volta. Songs head one way, then suddenly swerve another (case in point: the middle stretch of “Metatron,” an initially graspable, driving rock number that takes a psychedelic turn, and then a funky one, before returning to its origins). Bixler-Zavala continues to sing in tongues (see “She fumigated my mental hygiene” in “Goliath” or “I slipped on crooked sores in conclaves that you bothered” in “Tourniquet Man”). And Rodriguez-Lopez still hasn’t encountered a sonic device—be it a laser-ific pulse or a wraithlike vocal enhancer—he isn’t willing to employ, once or a few dozen times.
At best—Latin-spiced should-be single “Ilyena,” for example—Bedlam feels intricately crafted yet wonderfully free, interesting without being ridiculous. At worst, it’s pretentious, confusing and borderline unlistenable. In other words, The Mars Volta is, as ever, music’s ultimate brain-teaser.
–Spencer Patterson
[Dusty]
Shelby Lynne
Just a Little Lovin’
***
Shelby Lynne has never been easy to pin down. After spending years as part of the Nashville machine, she reinvented herself with 2000’s I Am Shelby Lynne, a deeply personal statement equal parts country, rock and soul. Unpredictably, she followed that with a disposable album of cheesy pop-rock, and then two excellent collections of lo-fi country-folk.
Lynne has reinvented herself again with Just a Little Lovin’, a tribute to legendary British R&B singer Dusty Springfield. Nine of the album’s 10 tracks are songs popularized by Springfield (the 10th is a Lynne original that fits in nicely), and veteran producer Phil Ramone records them like we’re eavesdropping on a smoky late-night cabaret session, all muted drums and hushed, breathy vocals. There’s very little here that could be even remotely considered country, but Lynne once again proves her chops as a soul singer and takes on some oft-recorded standards with confidence.
A little more of her trademark ballsiness might have helped, as too many of these songs sound languid and subdued to the point of sleepiness. Best are a lively rendition of “Breakfast in Bed” and the album’s closest approximation of country, “Willie and Laura Mae Jones,” written by Lynne’s hero Tony Joe White, two of whose songs she already covered on her last album.
It may seem odd at first that Lynne was inspired to record this album by a suggestion from Barry Manilow, but Lovin’ is really a more organic version of all those Great American Songbook albums, and as such it’s a nice pit stop for Lynne, but best appreciated as simply a step along her continued evolution.
–Josh Bell
[Buzzed]
Vampire Weekend
Vampire Weekend
*** 1/2
Columbia University grad quartet Vampire Weekend sound exactly as an urban Ivy League indie band ought to: erudite, experimental and above all, enriched. Their veritable band room of instruments is played with such skill and fire, it sounds like a valedictory.
Opener “Mansard Roof” sounds their two-minute thesis: Afro-pop shall beget Mancini, then birth a new breed of indie rock. Such worldly influence continues with the soukous-inspired “Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa,” the mbube-flecked “One” and the island-tinged “The Kids Don’t Stand a Chance,” which provides Ezra Koenig a platform to vocally pierce and resonate, a man singing into the abyss just for the joy of acoustics. There’s also a pocket of songs with stateside influence, such as “I Stand Corrected,” which bears the indie imprint of solemnity ideally suited to soundtrack a Wes Anderson film.
Vampire Weekend’s musical dissertation has three standout talking points. “Oxford Comma”—which curses the punctuation of three-item lists—has the catchiest “ooh ooh” chorus since Rivers Cuomo declared his resemblance to Buddy Holly. “Walcott” finds trilling xylophones and dissolving cellos begging exodus from East Coast privilege. And “M79,” which springs forth with such effervescent organs, strings and drum-rolling, it will undoubtedly replace “Pomp and Circumstance” upon graduation from Indie Cool Kids University (where Vampire Weekend will be adjunct faculty). –Kristyn Pomranz
[Indie Rock]
Xiu Xiu
Women as Lovers
*** 1/2
Hopelessly melancholy. Enigmatically verbose. Stunningly prolific. Tragically romantic. These are all proper ways to describe Xiu Xiu’s Jamie Stewart, but the descriptor that really sets him apart is gorgeously melodic. Xiu Xiu’s latest album is the strongest evidence yet that Stewart can scream, mumble, distort, whistle and add marching-band instruments all he wants, but his music, at heart, is all about songwriting. “In Lust You Can Hear the Axe Fall” is like something Interpol might record at the end of the wildest bender they’ve ever had. Maybe that comparison makes Stewart cringe, I don’t know. But a lot of things seem to make him cringe.
On “F.T.W.,” Stewart’s voice seems like it could break at any second. Or maybe it’s already broken, and he’s got no desire to regroup. But one song later, on “No Friend Oh!,” Stewart comes up with a crescendo reminiscent of the best of New Order. After hearing that, the cover (with Michael Gira) of Queen/David Bowie’s “Under Pressure” makes perfect sense.
Sometimes understanding the world is scarier than anything else, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t make beautiful music about it. Beautiful, of course, isn’t the same as cheery. The chaotic “You Are Pregnant, You Are Dead” is more Black Dice than Moldy Peaches, so it’s not exactly making it into the bonus features for the Juno DVD. But listen closely. There’s a lovely melody there, too. –Andy Wang
[Indie Pop]
Chris Walla
Field Manual
***
Judging by the variety of textures and moods, painstaking effort went into Death Cab For Cutie guitarist Chris Walla’s solo debut, and without doubt, established fans will devour it. It’s got all the intelligence and wistfulness they’ve come to expect from the indie-pop darlings, and naturally, every bit of the recognizably subtle guitar work. A good chunk of the vocals even sound like Ben Gibbard (“Geometry &c.” is particularly eerie). In short, Field Manual could essentially be the second half of a Plans double album.
Not that more Death Cab in the world is a bad thing, but it’s a letdown to see the producer du jour (The Decemberists, Nada Surf, Hot Hot Heat) remain noncommittal about exploring his own range. There’s exactly one surprise on Field Manual: “The Score,” an up-tempo semi-rager concerning sirens, flags, missing limbs, resistance and no end in sight. Lyrically, Walla does bend a little more political than Gibbard (hello, FEMA trailers), but it’s more a sign of the times than a capital-S Statement. Overall Manual is an arresting, yet business-as-usual album. For now let’s just assume Walla’s saving his best for Death Cab’s May release.
–Julie Seabaugh