Crocodiles favour sonics over songwriting

“I Wanna Kill,” the first single off Crocodiles‘ Summer of Hate, is a perfect pop song. Sonically, it recalls the Jesus and Mary Chain, with fuzzed out guitars, reverb-soaked vocals and a jackhammer beat. But the tune itself practically floats, especially the jubilant singalong chorus, which repeats the lyric “I want to kill tonight.” It’s probably the most buoyant song ever written about homicide and, placed at track two (track one, “Screaming Chrome,” is a brief ambient intro), it gets the record off to a blazing start.

It’s initially disappointing that the rest of Summer of Hate, Crocodiles’ first full-length, sounds nothing like “I Wanna Kill.” Unlike the single, the rest of the album favours drones over concise pop songs; Crocodiles come about their hooks by way of repetition, not melody, mixing shoegaze guitars with warm synths and hypnotic electro beats. “Here Comes the Sky” is one of the standouts of the collection, despite not really going anywhere in its four-minute runtime; the plunking piano and tremelo-laden arpeggios sound more like a soothing interlude than a radio-ready single.

When the group does pick up the pace, the hooks are typically buried by the hazy production. “Refuse Angels” is short and punchy, but the vocals are so drenched in reverb that it’s practically an instrumental. But with Crocodiles, that’s part of the experience, since Summer of Hate is more about the sonics than the songwriting. This is best exemplified by the title track, its cavernous guitar fuzz the perfect accompaniment to the creep-out vocal melody. It may not be the tight collection of pop songs that the lead single suggests, but the dreamy atmospherics are just as compelling.

Summer of Hate is out now via Fat Possum.

Pony Up channels Glasgow

Pony Up hails from Montreal, but thanks to vocalists Sarah Moundroukas and Sarah Wills, the four-piece has more in common with Glaswegian twee pop than the windswept theatrics its city is usually known for. Moundroukas and Wills are not born singers, but their thin, occasionally strained voices are a large part of what makes the band so charming. The lyrics on Stay Gold, the group’s second full-length, are often angry and embittered, but the singers’ innocent delivery makes them seem poignant. The twisted sense of romance displayed on “Making More Beneath” is vintage Belle & Sebastian, especially its unsettling request to “Marry me for fun / And lock me up.” Meanwhile, “Sounds Like My Wedding Night” is near-identical to Camera Obscura, with deadpan vocals and punny lyrics: “You’ve got her nose / Everyone knows I’m her child.”

For most of Stay Gold, Pony Up, favours countrified acoustic strummers and breezy, jangling pop rock. Occasionally, however, they venture into more hard hitting terrain, as on the galloping rocker “Charles.” The driving rhythm is set against tinny synth leads and the usual girlish vocals, making it the catchiest song on the album. (Interestingly, the synth lines sound a heck of a lot like the ending of “Grounds for Divorce” by Wolf Parade, so perhaps there is a touch of Montreal to the band after all.)

Download: “Charles”

Stay Gold doesn’t have a knock out single, but there’s not a dud in the bunch. The band chose to self release the album, which is a little surprising—after all, plenty of labels would doubtless be attracted to the the clever songwriting and effortless charm. If you want to pick it up, you’ll have to head over to the group’s website.

Elephant Stone makes the old sound new again

Elephant Stone is the kind of band where you could probably guess what it sounds like based on the name alone. After all, the Montreal quintet is named after a Stone Roses song, a dreamy jangle pop single from 1988. Fittingly, the group’s influences are almost entirely British, fusing ’90s Britpop with ’60s psychedelia and, yes, liberal doses of the Stone Roses.

Luckily, hazy pop rock is fashionable right now, so Elephant Stone’s debut album, The Seven Seas, doesn’t come off as outdated—note the similarity between “I Am Blind” and “Contender” by the Pains of Being Pure at Heart, a song that came out earlier this year. And the songwriting is sharp, so the group is likely to seem outdated any time soon. “Bombs Bomb Away” is upbeat and hooky despite its morbid subject matter, while the swooning anti-love song “Blood from a Stone” is laden with cinematic strings and gorgeous tremolo guitar.

The group’s forays into psychedelia are, unfortunately, less successful. On several of the songs, frontman Rishi Dhir doubles on sitar, and these tracks seem more like caricatures of ’60s world music than genuine embodiments of it. “The Straight Line” is an aimless seven-minute sitar jam and, placed right in the middle of the album, it sucks some of the energy out of the collection. The sitar works better on “The Seven Seas,” when it is used as an accompanying instrument in a focused pop song.

Still, despite the occasional misstep, The Seven Seas has plenty of well-written pop songs, and is an excellent contribution to the retro jangle rock scene. It’s out now via Elephants on Parade.

The soundtrack for your next “Disco Sucks” rally

The Novaks‘ debt to ’70s rock is so obvious, it feels a little silly even bothering to point it out. Almost everything on Things Fall Apart sounds like it was intended for Ford-era arenas: “Destroyer” features lumbering, Zeppelin-esque guitar riffs, while “Sometimes I Gotta Go Down” is a blues vamp that resembles late John Lennon. Meanwhile, the organ-drenched rocker “Under Those Wheels” sounds so much like Tom Petty that it could have probably been slotted into one of his albums and nobody would have noticed the difference. This is especially apparent because of singer Mick Davis’s nasal vocals, which sound near-identical to Petty’s.

Things Fall Apart is a fun listen, but at times it does feel a little like a pastiche. In that sense, the Newfoundland trio has more in common with Wolfmother or Jet than with actual ’70s rock. (But let’s give the Novaks their due—they’re infinitely less stupid than Jet.)

The best song on the album is the one that is least indebted to the ’70s: “There Goes the Night” is laced with daydream guitar licks and moody melodies that recall ’90s alt. rock. The lyrics display a biting wit not found elsewhere on the record, including a hilarious jab at “Some little shit with a picture phone.” It shows that there’s more to the Novaks than just a retro retread. And, so long as the Who are charging $100 a ticket for energy-sapped reunion tours, the Novaks are probably the better choice to fulfill your classic rock craving.

But band shot a video for “There Goes the Night,” although I must admit I’m not quite sure what the make of the weird underground art space/corporate/police raid storyline. Regardless, it looks pretty cool, and the song alone makes it worthwhile viewing.

Things Fall Apart is out now via Sonic Records.

A band, not a man

When I first heard “The Daredevil Christopher Wright,” the eponymously-titled song by the Daredevil Christopher Wright, I was under the assumption that Christopher Wright was the group’s lead singer. I was, therefore, understandably taken aback by the song’s group-sung refrain, “I wanna grow up to be Christopher Wright.” I soon learned, however that the group’s namesake is actually a (fictional?) stuntman who suffered the fate referred to by the album title In Deference to a Broken Back. So what initially seemed like a brazenly self-congratulatory singalong is actually an unsettling invitation for an early death, a message that’s in keeping with the album’s morbid tone.

Opening track “Hospital” describes ascending to heaven, its plaintive melody sitting atop of a bed of sawing strings and wordless moans. The rest of the album is similarly preoccupied with mortality, from the ghostly waltz “Acceptable Loss” to the bouncy “Bury You Alive,” which makes the grisly promise of its title sound almost cheerful. Nearly every track features dense strings arrangements and rich choral harmonies, transforming the group’s oddball folk songs into baroque hymns that recall Fleet Foxes at their darkest. The eeriness is intensified by singer Jon Sunde’s high, nasal vocals, which sound a bit like he took a hit of helium before the recording sessions.

Occasionally, the band makes an unexpected foray into bubblegum rock, as on “A Conversation About Cancer,” which retells the story of David and Goliath with sunny harmonies and a skipping, countrified beat. “A Near Death Experience at Sea” similarly belies its title with joyous horn flourishes and goofy doo-wop vocals.

The album finishes with “The Stewardess,” an unexpectedly sobered love song with deep vocals that makes Sunde’s voice sound practically normal. Beginning with the lyric “Won’t you come back? / I’m not the same without you, without you / Let’s face the facts / Not nearly as clever, as funny to anybody but you.” It’s so heartbreaking in its simplicity that it diminishes somewhat from the achievement of the rest of the album. After all, if the Daredevil Christopher Wright is this good at writing uncomplicated folk pop, why bother with the quirky bells and whistles (literally) of the rest of the album? Nevertheless, In Deference to a Broken Back is as beautiful as it is creepy, making it one of the year’s stand-out debut albums.

Way better than album seven is going to be

Although Weezer sucks more and more by the day, the group’s early material remains as good as ever. Really, has there been a better summer album released in the past 20 years than 1994’s Weezer (aka The Blue Album)? (Feel free to dispute that. Perhaps Person Pitch?) Rather than hear any more Make Believe/Red Album-caliber crap, I’d much rather hear reinterpretations of the group’s classic material—which is why I’m getting such a kick out of Weezer – The 8-bit Album, released today as a free download by the netlabel Pterodactyl Squad.

The album is exactly what the title suggests—a Weezer tribute album with all of the songs reinvented as 8-bit electro jams that would have fit nicely in any Nintendo game circa 1986. It’s a hilarious concept, and actually makes a surprisingly entertaining listen. It draws on a variety of lo-fi artists, and its 14 tracks cover a range of well-known singles and obscure b-sides.

The best tracks are those that are most faithful to the source material. “Buddy Holly” (performed here by nordloef) follows the melody of the original tune exactly, but transforms it into a Street Fighter-style rave-up. Tugboat‘s take on “El Scorcho” is gently plodding, and its chirpy melody could have been drawn from Super Mario Bros., an effect that’s intensified by sounds that resemble mushroom power-ups.

Download: “El Scorcho”

The tracks with vocals don’t fit so well as the instrumentals, as they somewhat diminish the video game atmosphere. Bit Shifter‘s version of “The World Has Turned and Left Me Here” is especially awkward, as it includes an interpolation of the Pixies‘ “Wave of Mutilation”—an interesting medley to be sure, but it’s out of place here.

But I’m probably over-thinking it. After all, the whole album is fun to listen to, and it accomplishes what any good tribute album should—it makes you realize just how great the source material truly is.

Head over to Pterodactyl Squad’s website to download the whole thing for free.

Jack is back

Initially, it didn’t look like there was much reason to be optimistic about the Dead Weather, Jack White’s collaboration with Allison Mosshart (the Kills), Dean Fertita (Queens of the Stone Age) and Jack Lawrence (the Raconteurs). White’s projects have been declining in quality in recent years, and the Dead Weather’s early singles were more baffling than they were infectious. “Hang You from the Heavens” hardly lived up to the radio-friendly accessibility of “Fell in Love with a Girl,” “Seven Nation Army,” or even “Steady, as She Goes.” And with its rambling structure and numerous tempo shifts, “Treat Me Like Your Mother” was simply too eclectic to work as a single.

Within the context of Horehound, however, these songs hold up much better; what the album lacks in knock-out singles it makes up for in relentless energy. The album hits like a full-on assault, its primal garage blues and ominous spaghetti western guitar riffs making it Jack’s best album since 2003’s career-defining Elephant. Unlike the Raconteurs overly-fussy Consolers of the Lonely, the Dead Weather returns the White Stripe to his minimalist roots with gritty lo-fi recordings that befit the raucous mood.

Of course, Jack doesn’t deserve full credit for the success of Horehound, especially since the album relegates him to the less visible roles of drummer and producer. It’s Allison Mosshart who’s placed front-and-centre, her howling vocals channeling the woman-scorned intensity of Karen O (circa Fever to Tell). Her brash screaming on “Bone House” evokes an era of rap metal era before it was tainted by Limp Bizkit; fittingly, Fertita provides a freak-out tremolo solo that’s crazier than anything Tom Morello has produced in years.

But despite the group’s apparent democracy, it’s the moments when Jack takes over that are the most memorable. The album’s best track is “Cut Like a Buffalo,” and it’s the only song for which White receives sole writing credit. Punctuated by blasts of distorted organ and disorienting, proggy breakdowns, Jack’s vocal performance is downright maniacal. While the lyrics are too obtuse to fully decipher, lines like “You cut a record on my throat then you / Break me wide open” are chilling.

Horehound is the first album recorded in Jack’s new Third Man Studio in Nashville and, based on the evidence here, the experience appears to have revitalized his career. After the hyper-compressed sheen of Blackbird Studio (where Icky Thump and Consolers of the Lonely were recorded), White has returned to the unrefined glory of his best work. With a slew of new projects in the pipeline, there’s now plenty of reason to be hopeful for whatever comes next.

More of the same from Apollo Ghosts

It’s only been six months since Apollo Ghosts released their debut, Hastings Sunrise, an album that still stands out as one of the year’s best albums. Forgotten Triangle comes hot on the heels of that release, offering more of what made Hastings Sunrise so likable. Like its predecessor, the EP was recorded live off the floor by the production duo JC/DC (the New Pornographers, Destroyer), and features an infectious mix of Ramones-inspired punk and ’80s college rock jangle.

Opening track “Palm of My Hand” begins quietly, but its jazzy, whispered verses bely the upbeat chorus, which is easily the catchiest thing the Vancouver trio has ever done (and that’s saying something). In its final minute, the song suddenly busts into a thundering coda with squalling guitar, wailing saxophone, and a euphoric refrain of “I want you in the palm of my hand.”

That song sets the unpredictable tone for the rest of the EP, which ranges from sweet and funny to raucous and abrasive without ever departing too from the group’s usual slacker-rock ethos. “Shaolin Barhop” tells the story of a motocross champion, Adrian Teacher’s soft vocals punctuated by fractured blasts of start-and-stop guitar. After this noisy offering, Apollo Ghosts strip things down for “I Won’t Support Your Love,” a gentle ukulele ballad with a whistling solo.

The highlight of the collection is “Shanghai Alley,” an RnB groove that gives bassist Jay Oliver to lay down one of the slinkiest basslines in recent memory. With airy girl-group harmonies, a piercing guitar solo, and sultry sax leads, it’s a remarkably convincing modern take on ’60s soul.

Closer “Scott, Painter” is the most straightforward rock song of the EP, poking fun of its titular character with the hilarious opening lyric “Disappointed with your sideburns / Shouldn’t have shaved them off / Now you look like your mother don’t you?” It would be tempting to describe the song as vintage Apollo Ghosts, except for the fact that the group’s entire recording history only spans half a year. With such a distinct style already established, Forgotten Triangle shows that Apollo Ghosts have plenty more offer.

The entire EP is currently streaming from the band’s MySpace. It’s also available from Catbird Records on CD (for $5) or as a digital download (for $3).

Times New Viking ups the fidelity (but not really)

Times New Viking released its third album, Rip It Off, just 18 months ago, but it already sounds ahead of its time. Since then, ultra lo-fi fuzz rock has suddenly become popular, and bands like Wavves, Vivian Girls and No Age have achieved buzz-band status in the wake of Times New Viking’s success.

Times New Viking is set to release its fourth album, Born Again Revisited, on September 22, and according to a press release from Matador, it will feature “25% higher fidelity” than previous recordings. Of course, sound quality is a relative term for Times New Viking—after all, the group delivered the new album’s master recordings on VHS tape. The lead single, “No Time No Hope,” scales back the distortion of 2008’s Rip It Off, but it’s still messier than just about anything else you’ll hear this year.

This isn’t to say the song doesn’t show some stylistic progress for the Columbus trio. Unlike the band’s usual bite-sized approach to songwriting, “No Time No Hope” clocks in at 2:51, making it longer than all but one of the 16 tracks on Rip It Off. It’s a chugging, organ-heavy groove without much of a discernible structure, spending its runtime alternating between shouted verses and catchy instrumental breaks. Based on this preview, Born Again Revisited promises to be one of the fall’s must-hear albums.

Listen to the song over at Matablog.

Rah Rah seeks a sound

When I saw Rah Rah a couple of weeks ago, I noted that the band’s baroque rock intensity was distinctly similar to Arcade Fire. On the group’s album, 2008’s Going Steady, that resemblance is even more apparent. Aside from the deep, mumbling vocals of singer Marshall Burns, much of the album sounds like a collection of lo-fi Funeral outtakes; during “Betrayal pt. 1,” with its sawing violin and yelping backup vocals, you half expect the band to break into “Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)” at any moment.

The Arcade Fire sound-alikes are fun, but Rah Rah is at its best when carving out a sound of its own. The clear standout is “Duet for Emmylou and the Grievous Angel,” a gritty waltz-time strummer with a stunning singalong chorus of “It is fashionable / To be single / In big cities but not in small towns.” The folksy “My Guarantee” is a charming love song with sunny mandolins and poignant harmonies from the group’s female members. The girl-sung backup vocals are equally effective on “Winter Sun,” which features call-and-response harmonies over its sparse electro groove.

The album is carried by Burns’s lyrics, which are often witty and consistently memorable. He specializes in romantic cynicism, especially on the biting “Betrayal pt. 2”: “And I swear that I once loved a girl / More than any hockey team in the world / But you left me for that asshole / I forget his name.”

Burns has already found his lyrical voice, so hopefully Rah Rah will develop a a unique sound to match. It’s encouraging that the group is at its best when it sounds most like itself, rather than when imitating others. The band has already recorded a follow-up; based on the potential displayed on Going Steady, it’s going to be an album look out for in the near future.