VITAL REVERB: JULY 17, 2009 Sounding Off On The Sounds You Need
Future Of The
Left
Travels With Myself And Another
4AD
ESM Rating: 8/10
Sometimes it seems like the only music coming out of
the United Kingdom is angular indie rock, grimy hip-hop, and smiley Brit-pop,
which makes the jagged assault of crunchy guitars, head-pounding bass, and
chest-thumping drums emanating from Welsh trio Future Of The Left sound all the more refreshing. The band emerged
from the remains of noise rockers McLusky and Jarcrew in 2005, adopting their
name from a newspaper article about the future of the left-wing movement in
France before the 2006 elections. Against that political backdrop, Future Of The Left have redefined what
“punk“ means in the 21st century, wrapping their outbursts of pure rock energy
in a cynically cognizant ferocity not recently witnessed in such potent
amounts.
Don’t believe me? Just check out Travels With Myself And Another’s opening track “Arming Eritrea,”
which builds on drum ticks and speaker-blasting bass riffs before exploding in
a frenzy of serrated guitar shards. “The Hope That House Built” belies its
positive title with marching-drum militancy, while “Throwing Bricks At Trains”
relives the straightforward punk-rock ‘80s, with a Propagandhi-like bare-bones
melody and catchy choruses. “You Need Satan More Than He Needs You” sounds like
it originated from an industrial electronica freak’s recording studio, while
“Stand By Your Manatee” trounces all comers in a two-minute rage of garage
power. “Yin/Post-Yin” sounds out of place with its subdued synthesizers, but
that misstep is atoned for on album closer “Lapsed Catholics,” which builds on
acoustic guitars before detonating with colossal power two minutes in. American
punk rock may be suffering through a stagnant period, but Future Of The Left proves that the somewhat dormant genre’s future
might just lie on the other side of the Atlantic. By Nick McGregor
Serengeti
& Polyphonic
Terradactyl
Anticon
ESM Rating: 6/10
Hip-hop has always maintained an uneasy relationship
with experimentation, especially when it comes to beats — producers for
years have relied on the tried and true Wu-Tang formula of gritty soul samples
and cinematic snippets. But for labels like Anticon, left field is a way of
life, as exhibited by the genre-defying team-up of Chicago natives Serengeti & Polyphonic. Their
sophomore album together, Terradactyl
journeys into territory rarely treaded by mainstream or even underground
rappers, embracing glitchy ambience and brainy stream-of-consciousness raps to
the detriment of song structure, hit singles, and club-ready choruses.
Look no further than album opener “Bon Voyage” for S & P’s ethos, all tangled
electronica blips and downcast drug-abuse stories. “Playing In Subway Stations”
evokes an urban underworld with crisply strummed acoustic guitars, while
“Move!” finds Serengeti stringing
together tongue-twisting rhymes over another face-melting glitch milieu. “My
Negativity” floats across the album with haunting live cello and apocalyptic
lyrics, and the rest of Terradactyl is
a schizoid’s worst nightmare — “Steroids” filters found sounds in and out
at rapidly changing volumes, “Call The Law” skewers the male rap stereotype in
an understated and off-kilter way, “La La Lala” rides twisted synth lines into
outer space, and “My Patriotism” combines accordion, mandolin, and bird squawks
to create a vaguely European cacophony. Shit, “Dawn Under The Bridge” could
easily slip its way onto a blissed-out bossa nova record — come to think
of it, there isn’t a proper hip-hop track in sight on Terradactyl. I’ll let you decide whether that’s a good thing or a
bad thing. By Nick McGregor
Tom
Brosseau
Posthumous Success
FatCat
ESM Rating: 7/10
North Dakota-born folksinger Tom Brosseau delivers his sixth studio album, and instead of
relying on the sparse, bare-bones acoustic-guitar-and-vocals approach of his
2007 release Cavalier, Brosseau employs a host of guest
musicians and a duo of producers to help him flesh out his literary-inspired
tunes (the album’s title comes from an Albert Camus biography). Galloping indie
rock drums, droning keyboards, Baroque flutes, and even gently strummed electric
guitars appear on tunes like “Big Time,” but throughout it all, Brosseau maintains his decidedly
Midwestern outlook, which allows him to parse details other artists might
overlook.
Lead single “You Don’t Know My Friends” even gets a gauze
of fuzzed-out distortion, taking it into 1980s college rock territory, while
the intricate fingerpicking of upbeat tracks like “Been True” and “Axe &
Stump” is only strengthened by layers of gently shambling drums. But “My
Favorite Color Blue,” which appears twice, serving as the album’s opener and
closer, reflects Brosseau’s artistic
shift most accurately. The song’s first incarnation is a splendidly simple and
sugary sweet ode to finding joy in despair, a
la Elliott Smith, while the second version boasts a slower backing beat and
washed-out synthesizers, turning it into a more disconnected and less personal
observation. Whether you’re a fan of Brosseau’s
tender acoustica or his newfound eclecticism, Posthumous Success still stands as one of the strongest and most variegated
folk records of the year. By Nick McGregor
Foreign
Born
Person To Person
Secretly Canadian
ESM Rating: 6/10
The indie rock world is crammed to overflowing with groups
appropriating earlier influences to peddle their own version of 21st-century
mediocrity. But every once in a while, a band can cop from obvious touchstones
while still creating their own unique sound. Case in point is L.A.’s Foreign Born, a quartet of Californians
who bring to mind the anthem rock of U2, the sharp indie pop of The Shins, and
the literate energy of The Walkmen. Yet Foreign
Born frontman Matt Popieluch’s affecting delivery and drummer Garrett Ray’s
exotic percussion help the band stand apart on sophomore release Person To Person.
“Blood Oranges” features polyrhythmic
African-inspired beats, reverb-drenched backing vocals, and a rapturous
atmosphere that comes off simultaneously delightful and befuddling, as it
doesn’t fit into a neat genre box. From there, “That Old Sun” recreates the best
cowbell-driven moments of ‘70s classic rock, while “Vacationing People” has a
ramshackle quality reminiscent of the early work of Cold War Kids. Twinkling
guitar shimmies on “Winter Games” and “Early Warnings” result in an
irresistible quality, but hesitant jangle-pop on “Lion’s Share” and album
closer “Wait In This Chair” drags the bandinto an itinerant lurch. Luckily, the hazy handclaps found on “It Grew On
You” rescue Person To Person from
indie rock purgatory, where so many bands that share Foreign Born’s influences and outlook go to die. By
Nick McGregor
Tortoise
Beacons Of Ancestorship
Thrill Jockey
ESM Rating: 7/10
The 1993 blast-off of Tortoise was as uncommon and unique as the instrumental fusions the
Chicago-area quintet has fashioned since. Beacons
Of Ancestorship, the band’s sixth full-length, continues in stride (and pride),
taking listeners on one of those really sober mindfucks that make total sense
when you’re deep in the sip. If you have a go at Beacons Of Ancestorship at, say, eight-ish in the morning on the
way to Java Bean when you’re a bit depressed, the album can be an emotional
crapshoot that‘ll wind up making you think something like, “Are my friends
really my friends? Really?” or “I should only wear mesh from now on” —
one of the two.
But there are definitely some cherry little smuckers
in this batch of songs, like the electro-heavy “Northern Something” and the
‘80s-like “Penumbra.” And the punk-flavored “Yinxianghechengqi” made me pee in my
shorts a little bit, though I can’t really pin down why. Approach Tortoise’s Beacons Of Ancestorship the way filmmaker Thomas Campbell has done
with their work in the past — select a few songs for your 2009 summer
break soundtrack, and save the rest for some critical juncture of solitude. It
will benefit you somehow… hopefully with a new mesh ensemble. By
Will Tunstall
