Rock

Icy Demons

Icy Demons

By Kyle Shaffer An open-door policy in a musical project seems is an obvious catalyst for experimentation. But when that collective implements an initiation process – involving alter egos – all your circuit-bent guitar pedals and Godspeed You Black Emperor! albums may not prepare you for what you’re about to experience. That’s the idea behind Icy Demons’ latest, Miami Ice, as the group challenges listeners to journey into poppy experimentalism as opposed to experimental pop. Chris Powell (aka PowPow) and Griffin Rodriguez (aka Blue Hawaii) are the group’s founders, though no one really appears to be at the wheel of the project. A slew of guest artists, including Tortoise guitarist Jeff Parker, make up the supporting cast on this trippy, unpredictable release. Icy Demons hit their stride amidst quirky, repetitive melodies a la Broken Social Scene on “Spywatchers” and “1850,” making use of everything from cello riffs to vintage keyboard sounds. And while the title track hints at pop immediacy, the songs keep shifting in the neo-prog/jazz of opener “Buffalo Bill” and the lounge room sway of “Summer Samba”. Were it not for the spacey time shifts and alien synth lines, Miami Ice might almost sound terrestrial. But this album may as well be the soundtrack to a robot-only sex party or Martians shooting up heroin. There’s certainly something to be said for the ingenuity and left-field antics that run amok on this release – it just may not be translatable in any earthly tongue.

Into Arcadia

Into Arcadia

Horace Walpole, the 18th century English writer/historian/politician, oh-so-properly pointed out that “this world is a comedy to those that think, a tragedy to those that feel.” Walpole had a point, as those who are bound by the heart are usually more prone to the pathos that life dishes out. Milwaukee’s Into Arcadia have transformed their fair share of dark days into earnestly exuberant songs, rooted in tragedy, yet propelled by a sound that is anything but dreary. Their five-song EP Maps for Children, according to Otto Ohlsson (vox, guitar), was based on his childhood experiences growing up in Manchester, England. The title, Ohlsson explains, comes from “the struggle between childhood’s innocence and the corrupting nature of coming of age;” Ohlsson added that the band doesn’t plan to dwell on this theme for the duration of their musical careers, and that he believes that their next writing ventures will be “more upbeat … more dance-y.” Whatever direction the future holds for Into Arcadia, their debut EP is a pretty study in absolution from past wrongs, with beautiful driving guitars from Ohlsson and Kenny Buesing solidified by Wes Falk’s bass and Zac Weiland’s percussion. Joy Division, Doves, The Fall and early Coldplay are all familiar sounds for Maps for Children. “Time is no best friend of mine,” Ohlsson sings on “Distance Equals Time,” guitars chiming and percussion punching the wall of lyrics built to give the songs strength, even in their vulnerability. What would Walpole say about what the world holds for those who think and feel after hearing this record?

Summer days, summer nights with De La Buena

Summer days, summer nights with De La Buena

By Amy Elliott and Amber Herzog De La Buena is: David Wake, Cecilio Negron Jr., Andy Noble, Julio Pabon, Aaron Gardner, Eric Jacobson, Mike Pauers, Jesse Sheehan, Holly Haebig, Elladia Regina James Wake (De La Baby). Not pictured: Jeremy Kuzniar, Jamie Breiwick. Ready for festival season? We sure are, especially because it inevitably means the return of De La Buena, one of Milwaukee’s most distinctive party bands. We sat down with band leader David Wake waaaaay back in February after they played a smashing set at the City of Milwaukee Birthday Party. We thought you might like to hear more about them now, though, since it’s sunny, hot, and everyone’s ready to salsa. Viva De La Buena! And read on … Ed. Describe the sound of De La Buena. In simple terms, De La Buena is a sophisticated dance band. First and foremost, we’re a Latin Jazz band, but we are no doubt influenced by the traditions of Salsa and Samba infused by the great bands of the 1960s and ’70s coming out of New York, Puerto Rico, Brazil and Cuba. We have a big sound that includes a four-to-five-piece horn section, Hammond organ, bass, and three percussionists (one of which is a kit drummer). The instrumentation we employ stretches beyond tradition and allows us the freedom to step into other realms of musical and artistic expression. Obviously, De La Buena is a large band full of musicians from eclectic backgrounds. Where do they come from, how did they come to De La Buena, and what do they bring the project? The band shares a very strong family bond and we’re family people who take their art and their craft seriously. Most of us inherited a deeply rooted love of Latin music from our families, and have the ability to stay true to that history and those traditions without becoming predictable. We love to have fun and make music, but we also want to put out music that has integrity and taste. What’s the appeal of the music you play – for you and for your fans? We bring something for both body and mind. People come to the shows to listen, and people come to the shows to dance. Folks really seem to love a big band with a big sound and they know that when they come to a De La Buena show, it will be a culturally diverse scene, especially in a town so infamous for its segregation. For the band, our appeal lies somewhere between tradition and innovation. We learn about and share the history of Latin music, but always leave room for innovation and new ideas. How has the band grown and changed over the past five years? We started as a trio. Adding a drummer, a tenor saxophonist, and a trumpet was another, more improvisational phase of the band—a period of discovery. Our songs consisted of much less organized ideas and grooves that we would use as launch pads for improvisational explorations. Our album, […]

The Long Blondes

The Long Blondes

If Kate Jackson, vocalist and co-songwriter for the Long Blondes, were really the “glamorous punk” she proclaims herself to be, she’d understand that it takes time before an “out” trend can become “in” again. Still, her Sheffield, England-based five-piece insists on reconstituting what Franz Ferdinand and Bloc Party did better just a few years ago. Angular post-punk guitars and new-wave synth are go-to on their sophomore release, but Jackson’s voice puts a unique stamp on the boys’-club genre. Her whimper is solid, backed by snarls from bassist Reenie Hollis and keyboardist Emma Chaplin on tracks like “Here Comes the Serious Bit,” a vivacious romp about emotionally listless hookups. But when something more exact is required (“Nostalgia,” “Century”), she wavers. The undeterred Jackson continues to challenge her larynx’s limits on drag-racing, trash can stomp “Round the Hairpin,” but in this instance, risk pays off and compliments the song’s reckless overtones. Driving the album’s relationship concept home, songs about slip-ups in fidelity and perpetually being the third wheel – “Guilt” and “The Couples,” respectively – possess peak pop danceability. Though the Blondes pointedly avoid the autobiographical in their songwriting, taking on perspectives from country bumpkin to jet-setter, they must get out of their heads and be less procedural. The Blondes think they’re clever, they think they’re smart, but they’re “just too clever by half,” says the song titled by those lyrics. Fashion lesson number two for Miz Jackson: the coolest girl in the room is always the most effortless.

Skybombers

Skybombers

What is it about Australian hard rock bands and aviation references? The Screaming Jets in the late ‘80s/early ‘90s? Jet (the non-screaming kind, apparently) in the aughts? Now Melbourne’s Skybombers, a band of fresh-faced recent high school grads, are playing a brand of hard-edged power-pop on their debut full-length, Take Me to Town. The sound is what you might expect from kids their age — tight and well-executed, but with an unsurprising lack of a unique and singular voice, betraying their youthful inexperience. Make no mistake: they’re hitting the right touchstones — a sprinkle of The Who here, a liberal dash of Cheap Trick there — and the performances are solid. Producer Rick Parker (Von Bondies, Dandy Warhols) has done a heck of a job polishing these guys into a well-oiled, no-frills garage-pop steam engine. The opening-chord gut punch of “On + On” is an attention-grabber, and the instant hooks provided in, well, just about every song hold onto that attention with the stubbornness of a clamped-down pit bull (or, to make that simile more Australian, a dingo chomping on the baby it’s stealing). Still, the album rocks less in an “ohmigod they sound like Cheap Trick!” way and more in an “if I want to listen to Cheap Trick, I’ll listen to Cheap Trick” way. Give these kids a few more years, a few more tours and a few more records in their collection, and they could become a blisteringly original act. For now, though, they remain catchy, solid, fun, and downright forgettable. You’ll hum along during the first spin, but five minutes later you’ll be reaching for your copy of In Color.

Abigail Washburn

Abigail Washburn

When one thinks of bluegrass and old-time mountain music, the mountain range that typically comes to mind is the Appalachians. Abigail Washburn, though, doesn’t care much to stay planted in Bluegrass’s accepted Olympia. Instead, she creates a musical Pangaea, merging the Appalachians with the Qinling or Wudang Mountains of China. Washburn, an experienced claw-hammer banjo player schooled in the classical style of bluegrass, has effortlessly morphed her musical training with another interest: the language and culture of China. A visit as a freshman in college introduced Washburn to a world full of challenges, stories and uncovered beauty. Fascinated, she devoted her time to learning about Chinese culture and the Mandarin language. A newbie to bluegrass at the time, she decided ‘for kicks’ to translate a Gillian Welch song into Mandarin. A recording fell into the right hands, and the rest fell into place. With bandmates Béla Fleck (who also produced her new album), Ben Sollee and Casey Driessen, Abigail and her Sparrow Quartet combine resonant Americana tones with tales told in Mandarin and English to form a baffling study of what you might call ‘globalization.’ “What I am trying to do is capture what it is like to be caught between two cultures … it’s like being a bridge,” said Washburn in an interview with The Wall Street Journal. Abigail Washburn and the Sparrow Quartet is a lively showcase of each musician’s incomparable talent, as well as Washburn’s great voice, as engaging in her natural alto as in her falsetto soprano. Abigail Washburn and the Sparrow Quartet is definitively atypical – a promise, perhaps, not only of the vitality of American musical history, but of a new chapter in a dynamic book of stories told in many languages across the globe.

My Morning Jacket

My Morning Jacket

For all intents and (media) purposes, My Morning Jacket is at the crucial fulcrum of their career. Thanks to a catalog consistent in its evolution, they have cred galore (from the critics to the punters) and are revered as one of the best live acts today. So it’s crucial that Evil Urges, their fifth studio full-length, is the one that cements their status as a true American musical treasure and catapults them into the upper strata. Jim James throws down no less than four different voices within the 14 tracks. His falsetto is right on in the saccharine groove of opener “Evil Urges” and the tight, lean funk of “Highly Suspicious.” He handles the country psychedelia of “I’m Amazed” and “Thank You Too” smoothly, and he gets loud and playful on the rockers “Aluminum Park” and “Remnants.” And perhaps most gloriously, Jim evokes Nashville Skyline-era Dylan on the ascending, poignant and goddamn incredible “Librarian.” His performance throughout is simply masterful. The melodies are steeped in soul, with a nice measure of rock and roll. Lest we forget the band: the arrangements and production create the essential atmosphere for Jim to fly. Each instrument, though easily recognizable, slices and bends the air with an array of tones and rhythms that are fresh and that refresh. This recording comes at a perfect time for the rock community. It’s something all of us can put our arms around – and never let go.

Le Mystere des Voix Bulgares @ The Pabst Theater

Le Mystere des Voix Bulgares @ The Pabst Theater

By Ellen Burmeister Photo by CJ Foeckler Ecstatic, chilling, astonishing and profoundly moving: at a time in which most vocal music is digitized and synthesized to the nth degree, the sound of the Bulgarian Women’s Television Choir (known since the 1980s as “Le Mystère des Voix Bulgares” — the Mystery of the Bulgarian Voices — from their renowned, influential recordings) is a refreshing blast of reality in an increasingly homogenized global culture. Emerging from one of the lesser-known corners of Eastern Europe, this choir of about 20 women is a living example of the effects history can have on art. While many of the arrangements they performed at their May 16 appearance at the Pabst Theater are the creation of modern Bulgarian composers, the music they perform reflects the influence of past empires and invaders: Ottoman Turks, Byzantines, and even far older traditions from the ancient Greek world. Even their tone is something very different. While trained singers in the West concentrate on rounded, open tones powered from the diaphragm, the Bulgarian style comes from the throat and head. This is music meant to be performed outdoors, and its hyper-focused timbre ranges from sustained straight notes that seem to go on forever to vocal acrobatics that evoke Middle Eastern music. Starting the program arrayed across the stage in stunning regional costumes, the choir filled the pitch-perfect space of the Pabst with one amazing arrangement after another – all a capella and all memorized. These were not simple repetitive tunes, either: they broke into two, four, even six parts. The harmonies were even more astounding, “breaking the rules” with seconds, sevenths, and forays into quarter tones, gliding in and out of dissonance and resolution with ease. Add in the demands of mind-boggling rhythms and tricky diction, and the result was an entirely new exposition of the possibilities of “the choral art.” In the second half of the show, the group switched to more contemporary black concert dress. The effect was interesting; it helped to showcase the music itself, and seemed to put it in a more “modern” context (the opening number, “Mehmetyo [Girl’s Name]” included close harmonies and rhythmic undertones that evoked minimalist composer John Adams). Director Dora Hristova handled these formidable forces with ease, but this multi-generational group also exhibited the kind of ensemble sensitivity that only comes from years of practice and rehearsal. Boldly confident in their entrances, seemingly intuitive in their group interpretations, and charming in their interaction, they also easily broke off into trios, quartets, and other small groupings, some with male vocalists. This is music that definitely challenges our ideas of what choral music is all about, with its unexpected yips and cries, snippets of dialogue, and full-throated, wavering chords. Ancient and post-modern at the same time, the sound of the Bulgarian Women’s Television Choir reminds us that the human voice on its own is still the most powerful, versatile instrument ever created. VS To listen to clips of Le Mystere des Voix Bulgares, visit the […]

Tim Fite

Tim Fite

Timothy Sullivan ain’t proud of his past life as an MTV “one track” rap wonder, and his work under alias Tim Fite is his attempt at renewal. His free 2007 internet LP, Over the Counter Culture, lashed anger at the state of our hate- and greed-mongering union. Fair Ain’t Fair beelines to the acceptance stage. Opener “Roots of a Tree” insists that we shouldn’t be measured by bygones but by whom we have grown to be. Hippy-dippy sentiment aside, this release isn’t for the faint of heart. An f-bomb drop within seconds of play sets an abrasive tone, but more significantly, since each song is a patchwork of obscure banjo and accordion samples recovered from record store discount bins, the musicality takes patience to comprehend. It’s best to start with the approachable “Yesterday’s Garden,” about a distracted Fite accidentally driving through his girlfriend’s flowerbed. The language is plain and details are omitted, yet a lucid snapshot develops over the course of the record. Outside of literature, these moments are rare, but “Motorcade,” a scene suspended in slow-mo as if ripped from a Wes Anderson film, does it more than once, flecked by toy piano. Tympanis, snares, and other percussion — courtesy of a high school orchestra — on “The Names of All the Animals” and “Rats and Rags” pique interest and help the CD achieve more than just cut and paste. Though “Sing Along” finds Fite back in his old pop politics, he primarily continues to propel forward. “Everyone gets to make one,” he says on “Big Mistake.” If lucky, the error of apocalyptical proportions he’s saving up can match Fair Ain’t Fair’s success in overcoming his minor ones.

The Black Keys

The Black Keys

When music nerds think of Akron, Ohio, they usually conjure images of proto-punk college nerds as much influenced by neighboring Cleveland’s industrial wasteland as by whatever they were learning down the road at Kent State that semester — i.e. DEVO. But thanks to Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney, aka The Black Keys, the new sound of Akron dates past devolution and slinks back into the primordial ooze of dirty, gritty delta blues. Their latest, Attack and Release, shuffles and shambles like the soundtrack to one of those run-down city skyline montages in some old ‘70s film where the main character is just driving and driving through town. The music’s rusty, broken-in and comfortably warm. Although the Keys are a duo, Attack and Release takes advantage of the recording studio and fills out its riffage with bass, organ and even flute (!) in the intro to “Same Old Thing.” The extra instrumentation never gets in the way, leaving plenty of space for the songs to breathe. You don’t need to get the band back together to hear their brand of blues (although I doubt they’d refuse the whole chicken and toast). Drums and guitar will suffice just nicely. The Black Keys sound like road movies and cigarettes smoked at 3 a.m. while drunkenly drifting away on your couch after another Friday night at that same damn bar again. In a good way. Seriously, if I don’t turn on TBS in another 10 years and hear “Things Ain’t Like They Used to Be,” Attack and Release’s dynamite closing track, in some flick involving either Patrick Swayze and truckers or Dennis Hopper and motorcycles, I will have lost faith in Hollywood.

Story of the Year

Story of the Year

By Kyle Shaffer Defining one’s sound on a passing trend can prove a death blow for most acts. But, perhaps even more daunting a thought is that of trying to reformat a band’s sound to remain relevant. Story of the Year’s heyday was the release of Page Avenue amidst an explosion of screamo bands. Two albums and a few Warped Tours later, the St. Louis crew emerges with The Black Swan, a supposedly seamless integration of the catchiness of their debut with the heavy riffing of 2005’s In the Wake of Determination. While this album may mark the group’s ability to survive without major-label support, it’s full of enough generic guitar riffs and less-than-inspiring lyrics to make the dudes in Avenged Sevenfold hold back chuckles. Throughout, this record is shaking with the fear of committing to a sound. Opener “Choose Your Fate” attempts Thrice-like energy and lands somewhere between 30 Seconds to Mars and whatever “band of the week” Vagrant Records is promoting. This is not a giant step forward in Story’s growth. Lyrically trying to tackle more serious subject matter, songs like “Message to the World” struggle to articulate communication problems between the U.S. and the rest of the planet. Even more painful is listening to lead singer Dan Marsala feign his concern for racial equality in “We’re Not Gonna Make It.” These are serious issues in the modern world, but Story of the Year’s contrived sound minimizes their importance. For a band that left a major label for ethical reasons, The Black Swan sure sounds like a record written for a paycheck.

Fever Marlene

Fever Marlene

Milwaukee’s Fever Marlene have a serious work ethic – they’ve unflaggingly made their presence known since taking up residence in their Historic Fifth Ward creative/living space, absorbing the industriousness of their neighborhood. Scott Starr (guitars, keys, vocals) and Kevin Dunphy (drums, vocals), a duo whose sound is more fleshed out than many a four- or five-piece can claim, received solid praise for their 2007 release Civil War, and their songs spin through the airwaves of local radio stations not just because they’re “Milwaukee music,” but because their music is that good. With White China, Starr and Dunphy are striding it out after a run of successful previous releases. Recorded in the infamous Chelsea Hotel in New York City, Fever Marlene have returned home to release it on their very own Rev Pop label. Dense with pianos, synthesizers, strings and various percussion and held together by Starr’s expressive tenor and Dunphy’s lovely shadow-harmonies, White China shows that the band is comfortable enough to make slight alterations, but clever enough to stick to the formula. On “Oh Berlin,” the piano intro sets an echo-y Motown backbeat, but when brassy guitar chords and Starr’s soft voice kick in, the effect is anything but dated. The sincerity of the songs lies in the vocals and lyrics, and the instrumentation follows suit by default. The upbeat “Lemon King Mahoney” and country-tinged “How Do You Love?” are diversions from the duo’s blanket of rainy-day pop. “Check for Pulse” gets closer with its looped beats and distantly drawled-out guitars – the only thing missing is the hushed sound of raindrops. White China is not Fever Marlene’s pluckiest album, but it is solidly pretty and genuinely enjoyable. Starr and Dunphy have proven that they are more than capable of the songsmith careers they have chosen.