Three Imaginary Girls - Rough Trade

Win tickets to see The Morning Benders at the Crocodile on Friday 4/2

three imaginary girls — Mon, 29 Mar 2010 15:53:09 +0000

This Morning Benders have been getting all kinds of buzz for their brand-new album Big Echo, including being awarded a prestigious "Best New Music" honor from Pitchfork. On Friday night, they'll be bringing those songs to the cozy confines of the Crocodile.

Even better: a) two of our favorite bands around here, Miniature Tigers and BOAT are opening and b) we have a pair of tickets to give to a lucky TIG reader.

If you want to go see The Morning Benders, BOAT and Miniature Tigers (and you surely do), but would prefer spending the money that would have gotten you in the door on drinks and/or t-shirts, send an e-mail to tig@threeimaginarygirls.com before 9am on Thursday, April 1 with "morningbenders" in the subject line. Oh and be over 21 before Friday.

A whole lotta news about Monsters of Folk

imaginary dana — Thu, 23 Jul 2009 17:02:37 +0000

Have you heard about Monsters of Folk yet? If not, it's probably because you're not lucky enough to get PR emails. Our imaginary inboxes have been full-to-overflowing with news of the project, a collaborative effort of three indie-heavyweights: Conor Oberst of Bright Eyes, Jimmy James of My Morning Jacket, and singer-songwriter M. Ward.

We batted the idea of who should blog the project up, without much success. We at TIG all hold our grudges, and Monsters of Folk seems to have hit on a few of them. First imaginary ChrisB chimed in. "The beard quotient seems a little low (50%) for a band called Monsters of Folk," he noted. And he has a point.

Imaginary Liz added, "Conor might be my imaginary boyfriend, but I'm not a fan when his friend Jim James takes over the vocal duties."

I sit on her side of the My Morning Jacket fence as well; however, I make an exception for this project. In fact, I had the pleasure of seeing them perform Liz back in... oh, what year was that? Let's just say 2004. The three had some special chemistry and a whole lotta talent up there together.

So it became my duty and pleasure to share all the exciting Monsters of Folk news. New record! New tourdates! Free song download! Here are the deets.

Further Complications

Imaginary Mimi — Tue, 19 May 2009 15:47:14 +0000

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B001VE2B2E/?tag=wwwthreeimagi-20

JarvisCocker09may.jpg

Fathers, lock up your daughters. Jarvis is back, babies, and he has come to rock your socks (and possibly your panties) off. He emerges from Steve Albini’s Electrical Audio Studio, ribald and triumphant to present his second solo-project album, Further Complications on the Rough Trade Records Label. While playing the Pitchfork Festival last year in Chicago, bassist Steve Mackey made the suggestion they work with Albini on this album, as it was incredibly cost effective (about half the price to record stateside), and they were already in Chicago. The result is one loud, sexy, rock-n-roll album. It is a far cry from the richer, more orchestral Richard Hawley-produced Jarvis, but it is a logical and interesting direction for Cocker, one that he should continue to explore.

In interviews, Cocker mentioned he wanted this album to be a more cohesive, band-driven effort, rather than doing all of the composition himself and presenting it to the band to play. The effort is apparent in the music. Most every track is gritty and guitar heavy, in classic Albini fashion, and has truly excellent percussion- there are stompers, clappers, and driving punk beats. An additional treat can be found in Steve Mackey, the bassist playing saxophone on “Homewrecker!” He played saxophone for Iggy and the Stooges as well, and brought the “street walkin cheetah” heat needed to the song. There are interesting deviations and returns to classic form as well, for those who like the softer side of Jarvis- the breathy, dreamy disco-sampled “You’re In My Eyes (Discosong)” could have very well been a track on This is Hardcore or Separations. The denser, more richly instrumented “Slush” could have well been on Jarvis. “Pilchard” is a strange, psychedelic instrumental track, punctuated only by Cocker moaning “Ohhhhhh…” at intervals.

Cocker is a chameleon to be sure, but, at his core, the same- venomous, tawdry, and incendiary. He continues to explore his time-honored themes of sex, malaise, death, and indecision on this album. It is no secret he is recently separated from his wife as of late, and it would appear as though he took a page from Sting’s mopey Synchronicity diary (Did anyone else find it EXTREMELY creepy that that was a post-divorce album?) and perhaps funneled some misplaced ennui into this album. It is a bit duplicitous- it sounds fun, crazy, and free, but underneath there is a sadness to the lyrics that would seem to indicate that the man behind the strut is licking a wound or two (see “You’re In My Eyes," "Hold Still," "Slush").

As a somewhat rabid Jarvis / Pulp / Relaxed Muscle fan, I would rather be in a multiple car pile-up or chew glass than say a word sideways against the man, but I will say his usual quick wit and skill with lyrics fall a little flat in places on the album. The music does most of the heavy lifting on each track, and at times it would appear as though he dashed something off as an afterthought and called them lyrics. This appeared to be exceptionally true of the brain-searing "Angela." It had the foundation of a truly fantastic Jarvis track- an insanely catchy hook, a few well-placed barbs, but then disintegrates into repeating the word “Angela” over and over again (it is spectacular anyways, but a bit like eating a cupcake without frosting). “Homewrecker!” suffers a similar fate. The lackluster lyrics were completely digested by the self-described “absolute racket” of the saxophone, drums, and guitar. With such a title, one would anticipate that this track would be Jarvis at his most dramatic and histrionic, but there was almost a feeling that he just shrugged his shoulders and said “Meh. That’ll do.”

This is not to say, however, that his lyrics are not complete brilliance when he’s on. On this album, he is the girl with the curl in the middle of his forehead. When it’s bad, it’s still listenable, even good. When he is good, he is knee-buckling. Some of his finer witticisms include the following:

Further Complications- “Don’t write a novel. A shopping list is better. It’s a complicated boogie, and I don’t know no better.”
Angela- “I feel the sap rising tonight. A dry stick at the end of a branch. With an overzealous hand. He can’t glue it back, no. Snapped off by Angela”
Leftovers- This track is full of some of his best puns: “I met her at the museum of paleontology. And I make no bones about it.” “He says he loves you like a sister. I guess that’s relative.”
I Never Said I Was Deep- “My morality is shabby, my behavior unacceptable. I’m not looking for a relationship, just a willing receptacle.” Bonus for the fact that he said he wanted the words “I never said I was deep” engraved on his headstone.
Fuckingsong- This is a song for an imaginary lover: “And this way, there won’t be any mess, as I assure there would be in the flesh…” Filth! Art!
Caucasian Blues- “I’ve heard it said you are hung like a white man.”

Further Complications is an album that will always be in rotation once heard. It is a beast of a completely different stripe for Cocker, and the evolution suits him well. It’s bawdy, bold, and beautiful, not unlike the man himself.

Fathers, lock up your daughters. Jarvis is back, babies, and he has come to rock your socks (and possibly your panties) off. He emerges from Steve Albini’s Electrical Audio Studio, ribald and triumphant to present his second solo-project album, Further Complications on the Rough Trade Records Label. While playing the Pitchfork Festival last year in Chicago, bassist Steve Mackey made the suggestion they work with Albini on this album, as it was incredibly cost effective (about half the price to record stateside), and they were already in Chicago. The result is one loud, sexy, rock-n-roll album. It is a far cry from the richer, more orchestral Richard Hawley-produced Jarvis, but it is a logical and interesting direction for Cocker, one that he should continue to explore.

Sixes & Sevens

the sleepwalker — Fri, 11 Jul 2008 17:48:32 +0000

7.1

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000Z66R2E/?tag=wwwthreeimagi-20

TEMP-ADAMGREEN.jpg

As half of The Moldy Peaches, Adam Green has been mastering loungy, lazytime delivery with a bit of a car-salesman smirk permanently affixed to his face since the mid '90s. Sixes & Sevens, his fifth solo album since parting with Kimya Dawson around 2002 is no exception. Although there has been a recent explosion of interest in the former Peach after the prominent inclusion of "Anyone Else But You" in the sleeper hit film Juno, Green's latest is just as steady and experimental as most of his earlier work. There has been a modest increase in the radio-friendliness of the lyrics, but that may have just come with age rather than as a strive for commercial success.

Sixes & Sevens is full of light, enjoyable, stream-of-consciousness experiments which hit dead center at least as often as they misfire and even the less interesting songs have enough personality to overcome complete dismissal. The arrangements are a bit denser and fuller than much of Green's earlier work, but the delivery is still very Vegas with some fake soul and speak-rap -- perhaps equal parts Tom Jones, Engelbert Humperdink, Elvis, and William Shatner.

Although this may not sound appealing, Green makes it fun and light with occasionally thorny, but never offensive lyrics to shake things up. The album bends genres rapidly while maintaining commonality in the overall sonic density and vocal delivery.

Sixes & Sevens opens with "Festival Song" and a row of soul-choir "ah-ah-ahs" and then follows up immediately with the catchy, warped ode to Jimmy Buffet, "Tropical Island" tossing out quick nonsense rhymes like:

"Courageous doofus by design, blankets filled with iodine
Lover come again just fine, meet us in one day
Ring ding battering ram, full dissect the battle plan
He who sells us Percodans one day
Tropical island, whoa whoa whoa whoa"

The genre-switching sounds breakneck on paper, but it is somehow hardly perceptible when listening. After Green's visit with Jimmy Buffet, the album continues with the toss-away snap-jazz-to-slow-punk "Cannot Get Sicker" and the silly atonal poem "That Sounds Like A Pony." Following that, there are a couple of smooth-70s winners with horns and funk bass and then it just keeps getting weirder.

"You Get So Lucky" is a cowboy carnival tune, "Getting Led" is a beautiful, almost serious ballad, and the album's best "Drowning Head First" is an off-kilter duet which is remarkably reminiscent of "Anyone Else But You" in both content and delivery, but better. After that, Green keeps bouncing around in generally the same areas with a sprinkling of great, melodic songs including Velvet Underground ode "Be My Man."

Overall, the songs are smooth, catchy, and fun. With only a couple of real skippers out of the 20 two-minuteish tracks, Green has a high hit percentage on this one. The lyrics, usually a listening focus of mine, are essentially junk-speak silliness, but they toe the line between fun and stupid just enough to make the whole thing work...as long as you don't pay too much attention to Green's vivid imagination:

"Down in the lair of the 50-headed virgins, the 50-headed virgins and the ninja skunk. Down in L.A., where the woman didn't love me, the women didn't lead me back to their bunk."

Sixes & Sevens is full of light, enjoyable, stream-of-consciousness experiments which hit dead center at least as often as they misfire and even the less interesting songs have enough personality to overcome complete dismissal.

"Couples"

Erik Gonzalez — Tue, 27 May 2008 04:57:22 +0000

6.2

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B0012P6Q7S/wwwthreeimagi-20/

The_Long_Blondes_-_Couples.jpg

I don't often say this about a band but, what the hell happened?? I mean, honestly, did someone brainwash the band into thinking it is much more than it is? Did someone try to fuse the DNA of Long Blondes' scorching hot lead singer Kate Jackson and post-No Doubt Gwen Stefani to produce some sort of demonic chimera that will destroy mankind? Did somebody spend too much time with record of the Creatures and Debbie Harry and forget the reason we like the Long Blondes was because they wrote great pop songs? That is what ”Couples” feels like, a sojourn into what someone thought the Long Blondes should be rather than what they are.

Last year's Someone to Drive You Home was an unexpected surprise for me. It was one of those albums that came up randomly while I was driving somewhere in the Bay Area and I ended up repeating it over and over, mesmerized by the mix of post-punk rock, overt sexuality, and mostly Kate Jackson's ridiculous seductive voice. Much like another modern rock chanteuse, Karen O, Kate Jackson is a child of Siouxsie Sioux and although that will take you many places in music, it also can sometimes feel like a rut. Is this what happened with the Long Blondes? After racking up a lot of critical praise for the first album, they decided to work with Erol Alkan, a turkish DJ more known for remixes than producing, and the results speak volumes to that inexperience. Just wading into “Century” and you get the impression that the Long Blondes are mimicking some sort of hybrid of Lush and late model No Doubt (when Gwen decided she wanted to be a pop star, not a rock star) and the cultural exchange is one that neither side wins. Kate's voice is trying far too hard to be ethereal and breathy when she really needs to be more like Ann Wilson.

A few times they wander off the garden path to be like the Long Blondes we thought we knew. “The Couples” is a catchy pop song that speaks to Kate's obsession with sexual roles, right down to her plea ”you're not lonely, I am, baby." “Here Comes the Serious Bit,” “I'm Going to Hell,” and “Erin O'Connor” are aggressive, energetic, and exactly what the second album should have sounded like: a band that understand their strengths lie in fusing pop and punk in a feminist package. Instead, you get bogged down with songs like “Nostalgia,” a Banshees outtake for all intents and purposes or “Guilt,” a song that would have fit in great on Madonna's Music (no, not entirely a compliment.)

In a sense, the song “Too Clever by Half” is the perfect microcosm for ”Couples.” That is exactly what the album feels like it is trying to be: too clever for its own good. Instead, it feels forces, it feels like it lacks energy and spontaneity, it feels like too calculated a move for band like the Long Blondes. Maybe they felt like they needed more legitimacy as a musical force, and yes, even I admit that Kate Jackson does pull a lot of sway because when you got the voice and the looks, it is hard to not get attention. However, ”Couples” ends up being the sophomore slump we've all come to fear.

The album feels like it is trying to be too clever for its own good. ”Couples” ends up being the sophomore slump we've all come to fear.

Win tickets to see The Long Blondes at Neumos!

three imaginary girls — Mon, 26 May 2008 03:00:37 +0000

The Long Blondes are coming to Neumos on Wednesday, May 28th with 17th Chapter and Ms. Led and Three Imaginary Girls is proud to be presenting the show! We'd love to treat a couple lucky imaginary readers to a pair of tickets to the big show.

Do You Like Rock Music?

Erik Gonzalez — Mon, 24 Mar 2008 04:28:33 +0000

7.7

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B00111COHO/wwwthreeimagi-20/

BSP.jpg

British Sea Power has done an excellent job of very stealthily becoming one of the most interesting bands on the British music scene. I know I sort of just thought of them as an afterthought - one of the many early '00s bands that flourished in the rock revival. You know the types: Feeder, Muse, South, the Libertines, Coldplay, Razorlight, Super Furry Animals, the list could go on and on. Yet, somehow, British Sea Power has been able to keep us listeners interested, and unlike their music brethren, people still get excited to hear them. Do You Like Rock Music? is an album that is all over the place stylistically, but that is a major part of its appeal.

I suppose British Sea Power was always sort of considered to reside in the more cerebral end of Brit Rock, you might possibly consider them the UK equivalent to Canada's Arcade Fire. Sure, the band are showmen, performing in matching uniforms and various stuffed objects on stage with them, but they backed this up with music that as dense and textured as it is catchy. I suppose if you had to pin me down to proclaim the standard-bearer on Do You LIke Rock Music?, it would be "No Lucifer," a song that captures both the post-glam fascination of the band with its root pop sensibilities. The song, on one hand has a bit of that Muse or Blur anthemic feel, but on the other hand is complex with its echoing guitars and drums stitching a cross-hatched rhythm while Hamilton delivers a surprisingly ethereal vocal. You could even argue that they take it up another notch on "Waving Flags," a downright Arcade Fire-like song, delving deep into the Bowie back-catalog. If you're the type to become enraptured with thick drums and swirling melodies, you'll fall for this one hard.

Much of the rest of Do You Like Rock Music? falls around these tent poles. "Down on the Ground" and "Trip Out" are straight up rock and roll, rolling and unstoppable, while the instrumental "Great Skua" shares more with Galaxie 500 or My Bloody Valentine with the low and growling bass and drums that slowly combine as the song builds. "Atom" was previously heard on British Sea Power's Krankenhaus EP in slightly different form. Here we find the band letting the song start off as gentle ballad before letting the doors swing wide open into an all-out rock song. I'm not sure if I like the additional overture to the song, but at least they didn't mess with the throwdown that is the core of the track. However, it is the sidetrips like "Open the Door" that really surprise the listener. Not only does this little pop gem showcase an entirely different side to the band, but you wonder what else they have hiding in there. Sure, it might not be the best song on the album - far from it - but it sure keeps you guessing what British Sea Power might throw at you next.

Do You Like Rock Music? gives you exactly what you might expect from British Sea Power: a lot of rock, some surprising turns of events, and the desire to hear more from the band. The album on the whole is wildly uneven, like a band that just has too many ideas that it doesn't know what to do with them. However, unlike a lot of the bands spawned from the turn of the century, British Sea Power does not seem like a one-trick pony, which is what most music fans want to find in a band in the first place.

Do You Like Rock Music? is an album that is all over the place stylistically, but that is a major part of its appeal.

Win a pair of tickets to see Taken by Trees (former Concretes lead singer) on March 4th

imaginary liz — Wed, 27 Feb 2008 16:10:48 +0000

For more than a decade, Victoria Bergsman was the singer of the indie-licious band The Concretes. Since she left that band in 2006, she's focused her time on her own project Taken by Trees (with a wee break to supply vocals for the worldwide hit single "Young Folks" by Peter, Bjorn and John).

Krankenhaus? EP

Erik Gonzalez — Wed, 21 Nov 2007 14:07:28 +0000

7.7

http://www.amazon.com/Krankenhaus-EP/dp/B000X3QE7W/

BSP.jpg

British Sea Power are a little more cerebral than your average Brit Rock band. They’re busy making references to the Spirit of St. Louis and the Larsen B ice shelf, but they’re also making music that shares its inspiration lineage with Joy Division and Echo the the Bunnymen. The Krankenhaus? EP is a teaser for their forthcoming album and it goes along with the bands Fall 2007 tour of the U.S. (well, the eastern states). The 5 song EP is rockin’ from wall to wall, like the Walkmen if they didn’t get so lost in their Dylanesque desire and makes for a great, albeit short, journey.

“Atom Main” is pure Brit Rock, like Muse but with a soul, trying to tackle the confusion of, well, all that science and physics as Yan sings ”I just don’t get it”. The song is chock full o’ crashing drums and guitars, creating a thunderous good time. “Down on the Ground” is a little more restrained, instead taking a bit more of a pop song structure coming off like a more aggressive Rakes song or a little less juvenile Ash track, borrowing a lot from 80’s new wave rock. “Straight Down the Line” is a mellow and filtered pop song while “Hearing Aid” is even more stripped down, like British Sea Power thinking they were channeling Gordon Lightfoot on acid. The EP closes out with the 9+ minute mini-epic “The Pelican – Parts 1 & 2,” which sounds like the sort of song they would burn the venue down with on any live show, ripping and roaring its way through the opening act into the cacophony of musical noises that close the track out.

British Sea Power definitely sound like they have a lot of fun when they record music. Sure, they’re not as downright hook-laden as their brethren Bloc Party or Maxïmo Park, but they seem like they just want to let their music be pure, unadulterated intellectual rock and roll. Krankenhaus? is a great sample of what the band has to come, and it sounds grand.

The 5 song EP is rockin’ from wall to wall ...

Cookies

Diana Salier — Tue, 31 Jul 2007 16:06:31 +0000

6.7

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B000SAAUCK/wwwthreeimagi-20

1990s07jul.jpg

Glasgow’s 1990s (that’s 1990s, not 1990’s, not The 1990s) should be commended for the effort they’ve put into trying to make a good rock ‘n roll album. On principle alone, all the necessary parts are in place: crunchy guitar chords, vocals that come in somewhere between singing and talking, melodic bass lines, and a tom-heavy drumbeat. Cookies could be the quintessential rock album – only it’s not.

I can’t quite put my finger on what’s not to like about the songs, but part of it is likely the vocal delivery from lead singer John McKeown (formerly of Yummy Fur, also known as the band that preceded those other Scots Franz Ferdinand). His vocals are oddly phrased and seem to go high into the ether for no discernible reason; not surprisingly, think Franz Ferdinand lead singer Alex Kapranos but with less of that weird British charm. While the band hasn’t succeeded in writing an album that’s really very memorable or impressive at all, they should get props for at least being catchy, and for bucking the indie rock genre that’s become so popular these days. These guys try to play complete balls-out rock ‘n roll – with a definite nod to The Rolling Stones – and have a ton of fun doing it. And if you’re a fan of that kind of thing, you’ll probably dig this album.

There are some lyrics that will get stuck in your head after two or three listens, like the background refrain of “you made me” from the album’s opener “You Made Me Like It,” or the ba-bas that start off “See You At The Lights.” The best song on Cookies is the square peg in a round hole, “Arcade Precinct.” The band trades in an acoustic guitar for the normally distorted electric guitar chords and ends up with a lovely three-minute Britpop gem that recalls fellow Brits The Kooks. “Arcade Precinct” is proof that the band has a good sense of melody, as well as the potential to write really good pop songs, but they just tend to ignore it on most of the rest of the album.

1990s may have the coolest band name you never thought of, but Cookies is just a collection of mildly interesting, temperate rock songs.

Cookies could be the quintessential rock album – only it’s not.

Nux Vomica

Erik Gonzalez — Wed, 20 Jun 2007 16:36:46 +0000

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B000O5B4S8/wwwthreeimagi-20

veils.jpg

It might seem a little odd to start a review of the new Veils album with, well, a discussion of the Red Sox, but here we are. Anyway, I was listening to my Red Sox game webcast as I’m apt to do (being a Bostonian trapped on the Left Coast) and the discussion arose about why so many sons of baseball players end up being baseball players themselves. Various rationales were suggested from an early exposure to the game to having baseball “in their genes” to just wanting to impress dear ol’ dad. Well, the Veils might be seen as the Ken Griffey, Jr.’s of the modern rock scene, with Finn Andrews, son of XTC’s Barry Andrews, taking a cue from his pops to form a band rooted deeply in the hinterlands of rock, balancing between Brit-pop and rock. In the end, you got Nux Vomica, showing that the Veils are hitting the dreaded sophomore slump.

Of course, the Veils of their debut album, The Runaway Found, only share one band member, that being lead singer/songwriter Finn Andrews. He uprooted the rest of his band and replaced them with three new members and the Veils sound and matured with the roster moves. If you find yourself fond of the darker side of Brit-pop, then Nux Vomica might be your new best friend, because right from the start in “Not Yet,” it is hard not to be reminded of the likes Suede, from Finn’s downright Brett Anderson-like vocals. The song is evocative of dark and dusty bars late at night (and for some reason, to me, they should be in Australia, but that might be apparent later in the review), with Finn going off with fiery aplomb like a man beyond his years. However, Nux Vomica is not an album of dark and somber moods, no, instead it borrows from all aspects of the Anglorock that spawned Pulp, Manic Street Preachers and the Verve. “Calliope!” has a playful feel mixed with a rock and roll urgency, bending more towards the Auteurs while that heads us into the “Pan” the sound of the early Verve. The real apex of the album is a surprising pop song, “Advice for Young Mothers” that is downright hummable, capturing a piece of the Divine Comedy in the air, with the ridiculous 60’s female backing vocals for Finn leading into the chorus. Finn shows off his lyrical chops on the song too, bitterly singing ”I don’t want his pity and your scorn/boy, why you preaching, no one is listening anymore” and the highly Jarvis-like conclusion ”No man alive has earned the right to save me.”.

Finn sounds like he’s channeling early Modest Mouse on “Jesus for the Jugular” right down to the howled vocals (Finn has professed his fondness for howling at the coyotes in Death Valley), dead-march-like drums and thwacked guitars – think “Cowboy Dan” with a little more pop substance. They settle down into more of a Nick Cave-like “A Birthday Present” (coincident?), mixing pianos and darker harmonies and this is continued in the title track is is strongly influenced by songs like “The Mercy Seat” right down to the thrashed guitars that are thrown into the verses after it lulls you into a sense of safety. The drama that is constructed on the song is undeniable – and this is the strong suit of the band when can hit back at the listener, “terrifying and exciting” as Finn describes, and it’s a very apt description.

“Under the Folding Branches” and “House Where We All Live” are quieter songs, with is more like Boatman’s Call Cave, and while they do expand the sound of the band, they aren’t really what the Veils excel. However, they close out the album with the brilliant “Night Thoughts of a Tired Surgeon,” that channels the Smiths better than any band has ever, right down to the tortured Morrissey-like vocals and jangly Johnny Marr-like guitars – it is a beauty to behold as Finn wails ”I’ve been brought back to life so many times I don’t know what’s real”.

The cover art of Nux Vomica is clearly reminiscent of some of the old Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds album covers and that similarity is no coincidence, with the Veils taking a page from the Nick Cave playbook to moody but infectious modern rock. It might not be the perfect album, sometimes wearing their influences on their sleeve, but Nux Vomica turns out to be a very satisfying album. Whether or not Finn is trying to impress his modern rock dad, he should be sure that his dad is duly impressed with how far his son has gotten after only two treks into the rock wilderness.

If you find yourself fond of the darker side of Brit-pop, then Nux Vomica might be your new best friend...

The Beatific Vision

Erik Gonzalez — Wed, 06 Jun 2007 14:49:48 +0000

7.5

http://www.amazon.com/Beatific-Visions-Brakes/dp/B000OHZK68/

brakes.jpg

Let’s just get things straight, the confusingly named brakesbrakesbrakes were formerly known merely as “The Brakes,” but there already was a U.S. band called “The Brakes” (who knew?), so now we get Brakesbrakesbrakes (whatever ever happened to just calling yourself “The Brakes UK” or “The London Brakes”?) And to make my life easier, I will just call them “The Brakes," so take that!

Now that we have that out of the way, The Beatific Vision, the new full-length by the Brakes is a lot more restrained than their American debut Give Blood, taking almost more of a country-rock tact to a lot of the songs. The results are decidedly mixed, but there are a still a lot of reasons to enjoy the Brakes (or whatever they’re called).

The Brakes have veered away from the garage/post-punk noise that dominated Give Blood; instead they’re much more a straight-up rock band with oddly Southern Rock feel, kind of like a better Kings of Leon. The guitars dominate the songs and Eamon Hamilton’s high-pitched, snarled vocals just add more layers of dirt onto the rock. The opener, “Hold Me in the River,” thrives in its rock purity and its bitter commentary on the conservative movement ("Can you tell me now what is this love/if it’s comes from above why does it have to be so painful?"). You get a little more familiar Brakes sound on “Margarita” with similar themes ("It’s clear it’s the fear/keeps us under control") - but dang, the guitars are the most sincere this side of Andrew WK. The Brakes have never been afraid to borrow, throwing out "Come on over and do the twist" to open “Spring Chicken,” a rock and roll plea to start a new dance craze although you can never really figure out what sort of dance that Eamon is actually trying to describe.

The band has also never been afraid to, well, make no sense whatsoever, like on “Porcupine or Pineapple,” which features the lyrical exchange of "Porcupine or pineapple/Yowch!/Who won the war?" Indeed! I’m guessing that it's a commentary on the current geopolitical situation, but sometimes it's hard to tell when Eamon just yells "Spiky! Spiky!" However, you have to enjoy the rock and roll swagger that the Brakes like to show, when you can get away with singing lines like "God came down and said I’m fucking bored, oh no/so he took a shot a whiskey and shuffled his cards." Now that’s rock and roll.

Where things get a little more fun for the band is “If I Should Die Tonight,” a song that takes its cue from Hank Williams rather than the Buzzcocks. This foot-stomping ballad rollicks along lamenting not getting a chance to tell your woman you love her before you die; it's far more country than any band from across the pond should ever be. This alt-country is also evident on “On Your Side,” a real Old 97’s-like number. “Mobile Communication” rambles back and forth from talking about semaphore to heavy drug use (they go hand in hand, you know) in standard rock ballad mode. In one of the starkest arrangements ever by the band, “Isabel” is merely acoustic guitar plucked gently with Eamon avoiding the howl that is the Brakes’ signature – and strangely this diversion works well, exposing a new side of the band. The title track has more of a pop feel, much more like the 60’s influenced power-pop of Matthew Sweet.

The Brakes seem like they’re more willing to diversify their sound on The Beatific Vision, diverging from the straight, in-your-face rock of Give Blood and for the most part, this strategy works. Overall, the album might not be as instantly lovable as their debut, but it shows a maturity that you should probably expect from a band that isn’t just a side-project that the Brakes started life as, instead we can hear a band that has plans for the future and want to find out exactly how far they can take it.

The results are decidedly mixed, but there are a still a lot of reasons to enjoy the Brakes (or whatever they’re called).

Jarvis

Erik Gonzalez — Wed, 31 Jan 2007 08:00:00 +0000

8.2

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B000JMKCU2/wwwthreeimagi-20

jarviscocker07jan.jpg

Sometimes album artwork gives away more than the artist intends. Taking a look at the cover of Jarvis Cocker's solo debut Jarvis, we see our hero walking against a blank backdrop and a little arrow pointing to Mr. Cocker with the label "Jarvis," you know, just in case we had no idea who he is. Jarvis might have a bit of an inferiority complex after shedding Pulp, his backup band of the last 15 years, but rest assured, this debut runs circles around some of the other great British bands singers' debuts (see Richard Ashcroft of the Verve, Ian Brown of the Stones Roses) and Jarvis' other post-Pulp project (Relaxed Muscle). Jarvis might not be a classic in its own right, but it shows that Cocker is still one of the champions of Brit Rock, with a band or not.

Even if you don't know Pulp that well, when the album starts, it's obvious the provenance of our singer. The songs still tell stories of society and love, Jarvis still warns us on the CD not to, among other things, read the lyrics whilst listening to the album (he also notes to not listen to Jarvis while exercising... oh, Jarvis, so many rules, you truly are a Brit). You also might recognize a couple of the songs from the recent Nancy Sinatra album Nancy Sinatra, where Jarvis wrote two songs: "Don't Let Him Waste Your Time" (slightly changed) and "Baby's Coming Back to Me." Both of these songs are very easily converted into the Jarvis-style (not surprisingly) and "Don't Let Him Waste Your Time" comes across as some of the most straightforward rock songs on the album. "Baby's Coming Back to Me" is a little quirkier with some, well, massive xylophone action. Jarvis lets a bit more of the 70's theatrical singer mood rise up on "Black Magic," a song that exists somewhere in the nether-region between David Bowie and Burt Bacharach with a rousing bell solo. If only Jarvis let the song really get loose we'd have a show-stopper here. These sorts of classic male pop star songs set Jarvis apart from the bulk of the Pulp oeuvre, with "I Will Kill Again" the apex of this shift. It is almost a tender ballad, with Jarvis and a piano (except of course, Jarvis is singing about looking at internet pornography — Bernie and Elton it's not).

More in the vein of Pulp's "TV Movie" is "Heavy Weather," which starts very stripped down and morphs into a full-blown power ballad detailing Jarvis past love and how she might have been trouble: "Stormy weather always makes me think of you." Another Pulp-heavy song is "From A to I," a lovely song that starts in the ever-so-Cockeresque line "They want our way of life/well they can take mine any time they like/cause God knows I ain't living right." Jarvis never could pass up the opportunity to remind us how messed up society can be, but he always does it in such delightful fashion.

If you ever need confirmation of Jarvis' wonderfully snarky, British sense of humor, you can look no further than "Fat Children," a condemnation, apparently, of overweight children where Jarvis tells us that, indeed, "Fat children took my life." "Fat Children" is a all-out rock number that details Jarvis being killed by the aforementioned fat kids and then haunting the streets of London warning people of the problem of portly youth — all in all, it ends up being one of the most satisfying songs on the album.

It's somewhat refreshing the odd, earnest way Jarvis sings about life and the odd juxtaposition of his social commentary and the horribly catchy music he composes around it. A prime example might be "Tonight," where the almost goofy male background singers and the echoing guitars shouldn't work with Jarvis singing, "Tonight's the night I guess/so let's go take some drugs and have some sex." It ends up being a song that might have the clearest view into truly Jarvis-solo songwriting. The album closes (well, officially) on "Quantum Theory," the gentlest, quietest song on "Jarvis" where even after all his moaning and warning, Jarvis reminds us that "Somewhere everyone is happy/somewhere fish do not have bones," (although this might be balanced by the gem "God is dead/but I lived on"), but of course all the goodness happens in a parallel universe, so as long as you make it there "Everything is gonna be alright." And no, "Quantum Theory" is not 30+ minutes long. Hidden at the very end (29:36 in) is the Jarvis' gem "The Cunts are Still Running the World," a truly class-warrior anthem set to a Casiotone beat. Easily applied to both sides of the Atlantic, it's quite a treat lurking at the end of the album.

Jarvis is the sort of solo album that not only works to make all of us Pulp fans happy even after the band's demise, but also brings new fans into the Cocker fold. The album showcases Cocker's tremendous songwriting skills in a world outside of Pulp, and as much as I loved the band, it's remarkable how much Jarvis can do outside the confines of the band. The second half of the album, especially, shows a cohesion of sound and vision that almost guarantees that, if he wants it, Jarvis will have a long, healthy solo career.

Next time, hopefully, Jarvis won't feel the need to remind us who he is.

Jarvis lets a bit more of the 70's theatrical singer mood rise up on "Black Magic," a song that exists somewhere in the nether-region between David Bowie and Burt Bacharach.

Give Blood

Erik Gonzalez — Wed, 18 Jan 2006 08:00:00 +0000

8.5

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B000ARG2DM/wwwthreeimagi-20

brakes06jan.jpg

We exist in a world of constant warring factions: The Arabs and the Israelis, the Protestants and the Catholics, the Red Sox and the Yankees. However, in the dominion of rock, one of the longest running schisms belongs to the US and UK for supremacy (yes, over 200 years since the American Revolution, and we still haven't fully healed). The pendulum swings back and forth almost of a decadal cycle, whereas U2 (yes, I know, they're technically Irish, whatever) might dominate, Nirvana blows them out of the water the next decade.

The fight has become even more vicious (and confusing) in the past few years, with US bands making it big in the UK first (see the White Stripes, the Strokes, Interpol) then sweeping back across the Atlantic like the reverse-Beatles, followed by the Her Majesty's subjects like Franz Ferdinand, Bloc Party and the Kaiser Chiefs. Now, the second wave has begun (Brakes, Editors, Maximo Park, etc.) to overwhelm our defenses. Is this a bad thing? Heck, no. Give me my NME and my scone and sod off. (Author's note: I blame a lot of this on Spike from Buffy, he primed the States of a return of the British punks of the late 70s. Trust me. I know it happened to me).

Brakes are on the lo-fi end of the current British Invasion (man, is that term overused? Does any time a few British bands get popular in the States constitute an Invasion?) Taking a page more from the White Stripes or Kings of Leon than The Cure, Give Blood has strong blues and Johnny Cash-style country rock influences that are spiked with Iggy & the Stooges/Clash punk rock. The Brakes hit hard and they hit fast, but it makes it all that more fun, like the hyperactive kid in class that's just fun to watch because you have no idea what might come next. They might not be the most innovative band on the block, but they offer a lot of bang for the buck, um, er, quid.

Give Blood packs a lot of influences into its short ~29 minute run time. The countrified part includes "NY Pie" that sounds like Wilco if they wrote songs under 2 minutes (heck, pretty much anything on Give Blood is under 3 minutes) and a cover of the Cash/Carter classic "Jackson", which is a gem that probably makes Jack White wish he thought of it first. (Leila Moss of the Duke Spirit gives Reese Witherspoon for the best June Carter impersonation of the year too.) On the opposite side of the spectrum, tracks like "Cheney" (all of ten seconds with one line: Cheney, stop being such a dick - talk about getting to the point), "Hi How Are You", "Comma Comma Comma" and "Pick Up the Phone" have a Sex Pistols-like intensity and all clock in at under 1 minute. Most of the rest of tracks fall somewhere in between, both sonically and temporally.

"Ring a Ding Ding" and "All Night Disco Party" are the most accessible songs of the album, the former being a King of Leon southern rocker and the later being the closest to the currently mod UK dance-rock sound. "All Night Disco Party" is almost a jab at the Franz Ferdinand crowd, with Eamon Hamilton droning a super nonstop uber-rocking all night disco party (then again, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, right?). "Heard About Your Band" is in the same genre as Cake's "Rock N Roll Lifestyle", mocking the trend-followers ("You shared a cab with Karen O/O? O? Oh?"). Here is also the first time you get a bit of the Walkmen influence, which is driven home by their cover of the Walkmen's "What's In it For Me". They take the original and pump it full of caffeinated (or pick your favorite greenie) madness instead of the dirge of the original. It is funny, though, that their cover of the Walkmen sounds the least like the Walkmen than many of the Brakes originals. The third cover on Give Blood is of the venerable Jesus & Mary Chain (albeit in one of the down cycles circa Stoned & Dethroned) and their take on "Sometimes Always" doesn't add too much to the original, but it is fun to hear with the Pipettes replacing Hope Sandoval's part of the call-and-response vocals with a 60's Phil Specter-like vocal harmony (with the most adorable thick Brit pronunciation of "chance").

Give Blood isn't the most inventive disc you'll hear in 2005, but its both a lot of fun and shows a great deal of promise. The buckshot of musical styles captured on the album keep the ideas fresh and familiar at the same time. The question will be if the Brakes stick to this mish-mash ideology or they take a turn like the Von Bondies and attempt to become too polished. As for the clash of the Atlantic, when you throw Give Blood in with Silent Alarm, You Could Have It So Much Better and Employment, you get the impression that the UK probably got the better of the States in 2005.

One of the longest running schisms belongs to the US and UK for supremacy (yes, over 200 years since the American Revolution, and we still haven't fully healed).

Rehearsing My Choir

Erik Gonzalez — Sun, 30 Oct 2005 07:00:00 +0000

7.5

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B000BDJ02U/wwwthreeimagi-20

fieryfurnaces05oct.jpg

Typically, when promotional material for an album uses the phrase "as much musical theatre as concept album," I get the screaming heebie-geebies. My mind conjures up visions of Spinal Tap's Stonehenge or Styx's Mr. Roboto. In other words: horrifically overblown and ostentatious clap-trap. This worry became doubly so when the above phrase is included with the material for the uber-prolific sibling indie duo The Fiery Furnaces.

I might have been one of the few indie rock souls who did not trip head-over-heels for their last album, Blueberry Boat. To me, the Fiery Furnaces have always seemed like the marching band nerds to the White Stripes punk rock slackers in the great Rock and Roll High School. Luckily, although the Furnaces' new album Rehearsing My Choir dances along the edge of the pretentiousness vortex, they reigns it in enough to make it strangely compelling.

Rehearsing My Choir is an odd experiment. Matt and Eleanor Friedberger of The Fiery Furnaces try to capture an oral history of their grandmother, Olga Sarantos, through a series of song/vignettes set in the 1920's through the 1990's using Olga as the lyricist and vocalist. However, as a musical experience, there is something slightly discordant to the whole affair. That being said, Rehearsing My Choir is still quite a sonic encounter with memory and confronting the past, present and future.

The opener, "The Garfield El" sets the tone for the album, with Olga frantically proclaiming, "Faster hammers! Faster hammers! Churn and turn into my late train to my lost love!" over frenetic a piano line. Oddly, the second track is unrelated to the overall story-arc of the album. Instead, "The Wayward Daughter" is a segue into electro-synth "Ladytron meets Stereolab" pop song and is by far the most accessible song on the album with playful exchange of vocals between Olga and her granddaughter Eleanor.

"We Wrote Letters Everyday" is a rather touching but bitter remembrance of lost love and youth. "I wonder how long they lasted?" Olga laments about letters left in the basement to waste away. However, the tone changes halfway through as Olga describes her wedding with eight priests proceeding over it and the song finally degenerates into a conflict of notes. "Forty-eight Twenty-three Twenty-second Street" sounds as if it belongs in a long lost Stephen Sondheim musical, breaking into a samba halfway through the song. This lack of a unified song structure is repeated frequently during the course of Choir and tends to distract more than add to the overall experience. The middle of Rehearsing My Choir magnifies this trend and is bogged down in atonal adventures that fail to keep your attention. Eleanor and Matthew seem to get so absorbed in recollection that they forget to create memorable tunes to go along with it. Luckily, "Slavin' Away" saves the middle of the album (minus the ill-advised synth solo at the end) is a warm number with guitars and piano that use the interplay of Eleanor, Matthew and Olga's vocals most effectively. The closing "Does It Remind You of When?" is set in the 1990's and Olga laments listen to this tune I'm playing for you now kids/Does it seem sad/Does it remind you of when? with Eleanor echoing I know in my bones it isn't fair and we're all reminded lyrically and musically how time slips away.

One of the most difficult aspects of Rehearsing My Choir are Olga's vocals. Although the vocals add authenticity to the reminiscent nature of the album, they can also be distracting, similar to Calvin Johnson's role in the Halo Benders. Olga can sound very endearing, but she also has a muppet-like quality that is unintentionally reinforced by the mischievous melodies that the Fiery Furnaces love. Yet this may be the point of album: let Olga take control rather than use her as an affectation to the Fiery Furnaces musical aspirations. Rehearsing My Choir is not for everyone. Heck, its not for many people at all, but if you've enjoyed previous Fiery Furnaces forays and if you have an interest in oral histories, Choir is a fascinating sojourn into a life in the 20th century. With more musical direction and focus, Rehearsing My Choir could have been an significant piece of American musical history. Instead, it becomes a footnote in the rock timeline.

To me, the Fiery Furnaces have always seemed like the marching band nerds to the White Stripes punk rock slackers in the great Rock and Roll High School.

Open Season

imaginary stella — Fri, 08 Apr 2005 07:00:00 +0000

8.9

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B0007Y0978/wwwthreeimagi-20

bsp.jpg

Bowie, Bowie, Bowie.

Open Season, the new release by British Sea Power is audibly influenced by the great glammed one, Ziggy Stardust himself — so much so that I had to catch myself a few times thinking I'd accidentally slipped in the wrong disc when first reviewing this album. But being Bowie, it ain't a bad thing.

The five lads who call my favorite English seaside town (Brighton) home come clean with their style on Open Season, their second full-length release on Rough Trade. Their debut The Decline of British Sea Power had its crooning moments ("Carrion", "Blackout"), but that album was also offset with angular punky numbers juxtaposed with calm, lulling Gregorian chants. Decline... was a tad schizophrenic, even unbalanced. Open Season, however, unifies the band under a subtler facade. On their latest, BSP lose a dash of their bitters. The harsh bite of vinegar that flavored Decline has mellowed into a sweeter variation, like that aged balsamic on your pantry shelf, and it's a flavor to savor.

The acid guitars still occasionally fizz in a wash of feedback and the percussion punches powerfully with impressive metronome-worthy delivery, but as a whole, the unit of BSP is gently restrained. The keys soften the edges. Vocalist Yan, whose tortured vocals painted the tunes peppered with literary and historic references on Decline..., now swoops low to a hushed, smooth lullaby and that unmistakably British croon.

It is the guitars, oh the guitars, that ice the cake and make Open Season the quieter, matured, more adult version of its puckish younger brother, Decline.... There are spacey distortion-infused lines, open sun-drenched swells and gut ripping musical eulogies abounding.

The record may play heavy on melancholia. And what Brit band doesn't? It's likely got to do with the drizzling grey rain and constant highs/lows of tea addiction. But there's also a joyful jaunt to Open Season that propels the album forward like a gleeful schoolboy sporting knickers, a stark white buttoned-up shirt and a tiny tie on the last day of grammar school.

The record as a whole evokes forlorn, longing moments paired with seductively jovial chords-again, a primarily British trait perfected by BSP forefathers The Smiths, Echo & the Bunnymen and Bowie. Tracks like "North Hanging Rock" and "Be Gone" epitomize this melodrama. The comforting "Please Stand Up" feels charmingly heard-before with its sweeping dramatic guitar intro, whispery-hushed vocals, and sadness-into — sunrise new-day melodies. "Be Gone" is so undeniably David Bowie with its layered chorus, soaring vocals and trembling tenor. Though I have held this CD in my possession not yet a full week, I already see myself singing along mightily to the sprightly Smiths-ish "Victorian Lace" come summertime, windows down, driving to the beach with the wind in my hair.

All in all, the tamer BSP have crafted an 11-song stunning follow-up that shrugs at modern inconveniences like the "sophomore slump," instead proffering beautiful, sweeping, epic soundscapes. The band may have existed on the periphery for several years (A fact perhaps not that surprising given the five first-name-only lads' odd penchant for WWI uniforms and stuffed fowl. Lest we forget that this is the group who tote an assortment of flora and fauna — some real, some faux — to the stage for their live gigs.) But with Open Season, the periphery take cover, the college-rock crowd beware and the mainstream radio listeners assemble your armor: BSP is about to aim, fire and quite possibly blow over the modern music landscape.

The record as a whole evokes forlorn, longing moments paired with seductively jovial chords-again, a primarily British trait perfected by BSP forefathers The Smiths, Echo & the Bunnymen and Bowie.

Mystic Chords of Memory

JimiC — Wed, 02 Mar 2005 08:00:00 +0000

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B000294SG6/wwwthreeimagi-20

mystic.jpg

I've tried to escape it. I've hidden my poetry books. I've tried not to talk to people who look intelligent and sensitive. I've sublimated my emotions under oceans of beer. I've turned my amp up to 11. But nothing has worked. The twee will not be denied.

I like to rock. I live to rock. I wanna rock. (Insert obvious and annoying Twisted Sister joke here.) It's getting harder to do it, though. At least bands like Mystic Chords of Memory make it easier to live with accept that fact.

It's Psychedelic. It's Twee. It's Twee-chedelic. There, I just invented a new genre for the Mystic Chords of Memory. All the requisite gentle waves of sound are here: the lovely vocal harmonies, the esoteric additional instrumentation (melodica, autoharp, harp, etc).

All the twee bases are covered, but the Chords (I call them "the Chords" because typing the Mystic Chords of Memory over and over gets really annoying…) place their own stamp on the genre by sprinkling in some classic psychedelia — going on strange instrumental flights of fancy (nice violin solo on "Golden Dome"), writing songs about lobsters ("Like a Lobster"), and mixing "broken psychedelic" vocals (think Flaming Lips/Mercury Rev) with beautiful boy/girl harmonies (I'm always a sucker for those).

They sound like a Rough Trade band (well, they are a Rough Trade band), but they also sound like they'd be very comfortable hanging with the Elephant 6 guys. Not that those worlds are a million miles removed from one another to begin with… but you get the picture. Highlights: the ascending vocal line ("…we are tuning forks…") in "Open End", the waltz-time weird sounds of "Mongo and Arky," the almost-funky drum "Soul Through the Bullet Hole."

I feel like I should say more (and lordy knows I love to hear the sound of my own, er, typing…), but I'm just going to sit here and enjoy listening to this one. You should, too.

Faded Seaside Glamour

dreamerseven — Fri, 23 Jul 2004 07:00:00 +0000

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B00020U5UI/wwwthreeimagi-20

delays.jpg

At first listen to the Delays record Faded Seaside Glamour, I thought that the singer sounded just like Stevie Nicks*. Imagine my surprise when checking out the band's personnel only to find there's not a girl to be found in this band. Then I wonder if this some kind of Residents thing in which the singer is hidden from view for artsy purposes. Turns out that Greg Gilbert, the lead vocalist for the band, just happens to possess an amazingly beautiful, but extremely feminine, voice.

Faded Seaside Glamour is one mighty fine debut: gorgeous vocals, jangling guitars, impressive song writing, and striking production. Delays combine a mid-to-late-sixties vibe (think the Association, Small Faces, Chad and Jeremy, and yes, I can hear the Byrds comparisons) with more modern Brit-pop elements that ring in a Travis/Coldplay vein. Their songs possess a emotional fragility that creates a cohesive feel with the current state of British imports, settling them in quite nicely with their contemporaries. One stand-out track, "Stay Where You Are," highlights an almost proggy side of the band that isn't visited elsewhere on the record, a pleasant surprise that keeps them from pigeon-holing themselves as a strictly mellow pop band.

The only thing that keeps me from giving this record an incredible review is that it doesn't push the boundaries enough. It's just a little too safe to make it to the next level. But hey, safe records are nice and who knows what little twists and turns they'll have for us the next time ... the next time around... the next time around (my voice is delaying... get it?)

* Now, some people might get the wrong idea and think I'm talking shit by making the Stevie Nicks comparison. But I'm here to tell you that there's not a damn thing wrong with early Fleetwood Mac. I mean, take "Landslide" — there's no denying them, they write quality ballads.

Their songs possess a emotional fragility that creates a cohesive feel with the current state of British imports, settling them in quite nicely with their contemporaries.

Blueberry Boat

imaginary jessica — Mon, 12 Jul 2004 07:00:00 +0000

8.9

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B0002DRDVE/wwwthreeimagi-20

fieryfurnaces04july.jpg

Somehow, bands with brother-sister duos always pique my interest. Perhaps it's because I'm part of a brother-sister duo myself. There seems to be something unique, almost magical about siblings making music together. The Fiery Furnaces' latest album "Blueberry Boat affirms my faith in brother-sister musical combinations.

This album is like an amusement park gone awry, eerie but entertaining, charming and a bit creepy too. Matthew and Eleanor Friedberger manage to keep everything unpredictable - tempos fluctuate wildly, bluesy guitars meet spooky organs, 1980s-style synthesizers pair neatly with handclaps and shimmery cymbals.

Many of the songs clock in at well over five minutes, but in all honesty, you won't notice. You'll be too caught up in your curiosity as to where the song will go. Eleanor's vocals lure you along with sing-songy androgyny, matched well (of course! they're siblings!) with her brother Matthew's boyish tongue twisters. The Friedbergers' lyrics will astound you with tales of pirate hijackings, taco lunches, Dexedrine, and dressing gowns.

I especially loved "Straight Street" — swirls of twangy slide guitar combined with an incessant rhythmic piano set the tone, with leisurely electric guitar choruses interspersed throughout. "Bird Brain" bounces along in a haunted way, with Matthew and Eleanor taking turns as ringmasters of this musical circus.

This album has something for every mood — from sunny to sinister and everything in between. If you're up for the unexpected, my recommendation is to get on the Blueberry Boat.

This album is like an amusement park gone awry, eerie but entertaining, charming and a bit creepy too.

AstroPOP! for January 2004

chilly c — Thu, 01 Jan 2004 08:00:00 +0000

Imaginary rock and roll astrology CD reviews by Chilly C for January 2004

Capricorn {December 22-January 19}
Your ill will towards the romantically smitten has reached alarming proportions. Your Imaginary New Year's Resolution for 2004: negate the hate, and learn to love the love. It's ok to be suspicious at first: on their double-cd fantasia Speakerboxx/The Love Below (LaFace), OutKast may be playing to the whole crowd, but their watchful eyes are on every lady in the house. And what with vampire weddings, potty girls in the clubs, and women asking Cupid to drop his arrows and pick up guns, it's no wonder Andre 3000 and Big Boi are afraid of the L-word. But Big Boi knows he can trust his family, and Andre admits that "don't nobody want to grow old alone." So even if you're tentative for now, Cap, let your heart feel love this year. Otherwise, you'll go crazy wondering "why are we here? Huh? Huh? Huh?"

Aquarius {January 20-February 18}
You call it "speaking your mind." Your friends call it "taking over by talking louder." Now, I'm not telling you to keep quiet — but your Imaginary New Year's Resolution is to try keeping quieter. Sometimes, Aquarius, the softest voice commands the most attention. Rocky Votolato's 2003 release Suicide Medicine (Second Nature) starts with a subtle arrangement of guitars, bass, vintage keys, and drums, and as the album progresses, the songs gets quieter and quieter. And quieter. By the time we reach the album's closer "Mix Tapes/Cellmates," it's just Votolato and his guitar. With a voice that sighs like Paul Westerberg at his most plaintive, Votolato whispers secret truths that grab your attention in a way that shouting never will. And when he does raise his voice-slightly-it sounds like the most desperate wail in the world. Keep quieter, Aquarius — people will listen.

Pisces {February 19-March 20}
Your Imaginary New Year's Resolution for 2004: learn a language. Once you get bilingual on our asses, Pisces, your already articulate nature will be even more unstoppable. Check out Franz Ferdinand's angular new ep, Darts of Pleasure (Domino). This UK four-piece throw down five catchy songs that effortlessly manage to keep up with both your 'rock is back' and 'new wave is back' joneses. Best of all, the band transforms their Strokes-meet-Iggy Pop title track from one of last year's best out-of-nowhere singles into one of last year's best out-of-nowhere singles with a final chorus sung in German! Repeat after me, Pisces: "super phantastisch."

Aries {March 21-April 19}
Aries. Look. You and I need to talk about the way you rush around so fast paced always late never having any time at all to breathe or slow down or take any kind of rest whatsoever until at the very end of the day you collapse into a restless sleep without any dreams at all and then you wake up and start the whole thing over and over and over and. Your Imaginary New Year's Resolution: relax, Aries. Put on Different Stars by the LA four-piece Trespassers William asap-it'll be the last thing I want you to do immediately. After that, sit back and listen. The slow tempos, the fretless slides, and Anna-Lynne Williams soothing, measured voice will quiet your fried nervous system and start you on the path towards a more serene lifestyle. Williams sings "Oh I know what I need" on standout track "Lie In The Sound," and Aries, now you do too.

Taurus {April 20-May 20}
Did you know that the most popular New Year's Resolution is to lose weight? Not for you, though, Taurus. Your sallow complexion and gaunt frame requires the opposite approach: your Imaginary New Year's Resolution is to put on the pounds. But before you reach for the Krispy Kremes, listen to Catch-22 (Parasol) by Seattle pop vets Toothpaste 2000. Their sunny harmonies and 60's-influenced confections are sure to satisfy your sweet tooth for pure pop. And with instantly memorable songs like "Count Choc-o-lat" and "Candy Pants," TP2K guarantees a great-tasting listen. If you like the Muffs, the New Pornographers, and the Shangri-La's, you can't go wrong with Toothpaste 2000. Just don't overdo it, Taurus, or else next year... well, we know what resolution you'll be making then.

Gemini {May 21-June 21}
Seriously, I'm afraid to tell you that you're too self-critical, because knowing you, that'd be just one more thing you'd criticize yourself about. Your lack of confidence prevents you from seeing yourself in the positive way others see you. You really need to listen to JPG's cd "Ten Songz" (no label). JPG — a melancholy rapper with a talent for odd-metered rhythms — has a similar self-image problem. He creates lo-fi beats in his bedroom, then rocks the greater Eureka/Arcata, CA area with nothing but a boom box and his dexterity on the mic, but he asserts that he's a down-and-out type with "no social skills" who needs to train a dog to help him break the ice with girls. But there are plenty of girls who adore JPG-he just needs to look out in the crowd while performing. Your Imaginary New Year's Resolution: build a little self-esteem. Look out at your crowd, Gemini. We're all supporting you!

Cancer {June 22-July 22}
How many times has this happened, Cancer? You meet someone, you think of something funny or clever to say... but by the time you put it into words, they've already walked away shaking their head. Make an Imaginary New Year's Resolution to transform your tongue from awkward to acrobatic. Seattle four-piece Laymans Terms will help you learn how to address to impress. From their fetching pictures on the cover of their latest cd {Everything You Love And Hate} (Laymans Terms) to the arresting first line of the record "I found God in blue jeans/Flipping through magazines," it's clear this band knows how to grab you from the get-go. But they're more than just a dazzling first impression. The songs are strong throughout the cd: big, passionate anthems for young-at-hearts who believe that there is value in everything if you know where to look. And if you know just what to say when you find it, Cancer. Pleased to meet you!

Leo {July 23-August 22}
Your fear of heights has caused you difficulty for a long time now, Leo. 2004 will be the year you conquer it! Your Imaginary New Year's Resolution will have you up on rollercoasters, on ski lifts, and in the Space Needle in no time. Listen to the Dear John Letters' stabilizing Stories Of Our Lives (Foodchain). Robb Benson's soaring voice is like a rollercoaster itself: climbing higher and higher to an energetic plea, then plummeting to a quiet sigh—often in the same song. From bruised hearts to fresh scars, the songs will send your emotions on a wild ride as well, but Johnny Sangster's circular, Kinks-inspired guitar riffs will never make you dizzy. As Benson puts it in "Bipolar," "Only for an hour of ups and downs/Ups and downs." Vertigo never sounded so good.

Virgo {August 23-September 22}
You're always there for everyone else, you never miss a party, your cell phone plan is the biggest on the market. All fine, but I worry that you're short-changing your need for "alone time." Your Imaginary New Year's Resolution is to give yourself a break from your social commitments. LA's Summer At Shatter Creek likes alone time. Lots of alone time. The band is in fact the singular vision of sole member Craig Gurwich, who plays every instrument and sings every note on SASC's self-titled cd (Absolutely Kosher). It's a testament to the achievement of solitude: the songs drip with carefully layered instrumentation, and Gurwich's ethereal tenor evokes a calmer Jeff Buckley or a more urbane Nick Drake. Lyrically, the plaintive descriptions of missed connections and lonely holidays suggest that while solitude has its price, it also provides a great opportunity to think about one's place in the world. In your case Virgo, that's in a crowded taxi, on your phone, in between parties.

Libra {September 23-October 22}
Embrace art! Libra, your right-brain dedication to moving forward in your career is commendable, but you need to give your left-brain a workout as well. It's your call: painting? Photography? Toothpick sculpture? Visit your local art supply store; they always have cool stuff to buy. Biography of Ferns definitely embraces art, Libra-you should take your cues from them. Their new 5-song ep Memory's Servant (Tellous) is arty in the way that only a sonic splatter painting of the Gang of Four, the Clash, Pavement, and the Kent 3 (another great Seattle trio) can be. Each song is like a piece on a gallery wall: colorful, expansive, and adventurous in narrative. But before you get the wrong idea, Libra-Biography of Ferns definitely rock it out too. They put the action into action painting. Now grab your brush, your camera, your toothpicks, and make some art yourself.

Scorpio {October 23 - November 21}
You're loaded with baggage, Scorpio, and I'm not talking about the emotional kind. I'm talking about stuff: under the bed, bursting out of closets, and I won't even mention that basement storage space. Your Imaginary New Year's Resolution: strip down to the essentials, and keep only what you use. Take your cue from the Fiery Furnaces. This New York-via-Chicago brother-sister duo is the missing link between the Raincoats and the White Stripes; they're the Velvet Underground if Mo Tucker had fought her way to the front after John Cale was kicked out. On their amazing debut Gallowsbird's Bark, (Rough Trade), the Furnaces take two chords, ancient rock'n'roll imagery (travel, love, isolation), and a sparse piano-fuzz guitar-drums sound and use them to reinvent the universe. You don't have to think that big, Scorpio. Cleaning out your basement storage space is a good enough start.

Sagittarius {November 22-December 21}
It's well known, Sag, that your choices in romantic partners usually lead to relationships whose outcomes fall under the "no chance in hell" category. Now, you might think I'm going to tell you to approach love rationally this year, but this astrologer has never believed in applying logic to matters of the heart. For example, who would discourage, say, a record album cover painter from falling in love just because the woman of his dreams is a Greek God's immortal daughter who just jumped out of an alley wall mural? Not me. In fact, I'm going to encourage these kinds of relationships by asking you to listen to the Xanadu soundtrack (MCA) over and over. Your Imaginary New Year's Resolution: follow your heart, Sag, wherever it may lead you. One day, destiny will arrive to bring all your dreams alive. For you.

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Your rock and roll astrological forecast for January 2004, featuring reviews of Outkast, Rocky Votolato, Franz Ferdinand, Trespassers William, and more!