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Black Lips further differentiate themselves from today’s pack of dirty, lo-fi, garage rockers with their absolute dedication to real, tactile, filth – particularly on tracks like the Velvet Underground-style pop song “Starting Over”, the theatrically sinister “Trapped in the Basement”, and album climax “I Saw God”, highlighted by its expletive-laden trailer park monologue.
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The (almost) self-titled debut by Wavves, a popular member of the emerging California noise punk scene, is a half hour of hooky surf pop caked in a thick, crust of noise that, at its best (“So Bored”, “Get in the Sun”, “No Hope Kids”) narrowly outdoes its contemporaries – it’s less initially off-putting than No Age and a lot more satisfyingly fun than Vivian Girls – and recalls the youth and optimism of classic west coast punk.
Tags: wavves, wavvves
Most of The Lonely Island’s viral hits from Saturday Night Live, sans videos and already well-entrenched in popular culture, fall somewhat flat on Incredibad, but their newer numbers will certainly guarantee some laughs (“Boombox”, “Ras Trent”, “Incredibad”) and their talent for satirizing the sound and posturing of modern pop music is undeniable.
Tags: e-40, incredibad, julian casablancas, justin timberlake, norah jones, t-pain, the lonely island
Beirut’s newest release is a series of two EPs: the first is a waltzy, brass-driven affair that feels like the mournful soundtrack to a funeral in some Mexican village; Holland demonstrates the true extent to which Zach Condon can stretch his talents, with a collection of bubbly electronic tracks on which he sounds far from uncomfortable.
Tags: beirut, ep, holland, leak, march of the zapotec, realpeople, zach condon
Alegranza! is a must-listen for fans of Animal Collective’s recent output, Panda Bear’s Person Pitch, or just really, really fun music: it’s sample-based Spanish psychedelia that jangles and bounces like Os Mutantes at a dance party, building waves of colorful, lush sound that makes one wish summer wasn’t so far away.
Tags: alegranza!, el guincho
Welcome back to the world of Lily Allen, where the men worth crying over once they inevitably leave her are far outnumbered by the ones with small penises who can’t satisfy her sexually, and where singing about this angst with a deceptively sweet and calm voice makes for a pretty darn good pop album; it’s like the (DC Comics) Anti-Life Equation – a mathematical equation proving the futility of life and psychologically enslaves anyone exposed to it — once it has its hooks in you it’s easy to forget that it’s probably the most cynically depressing thing you’ve heard since, well, her last album – except that it’s catchier, heavier, and – dare we say – a little more world-aware and mature.
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