Belgian Fog :: "You Drive Me To Madness"

Mix equal parts of the baroque twee of Belle and Sebastian and the bedroomer dreams of Youth Lagoon and you arrive at the glittering and homespun jams of Belgian Fog. On most recent track, "You Drive Me To Madness" singer Robert Dale glides into his falsetto in a chorus that chirps between the same five notes. It's the type of modulation endemic to the best hooks, this one drowned in the soft glow of clipping vocals and tumbling keyboards. Between previous single, "Wait For Help" and "You Drive Me To Madness" it's a wonder that Dale isn't already signed and working on a debut full length effort. The end result of his most recent one-off pulses as a magically real universe - he calls it "another dimension" - of pleasant and fantastical orthogonals, the distance spinning towards and away from the listener in equal measure, a promise of things to come.

Randolph's Leap :: "Hermit"

Randolph's Leap are a Glasgow band overflowing with pop hooks and the kind of blighted brilliance on which Scotland has an effective monopoly. On "Hermit", lead track from their EP of the same name, the band sounds intensely like British stab at the horn-soaked pop that Beulah made deservedly famous in the previous decade. Think Stornoway with a bit more punch and a relentless pursuit of a chorus that twirls under its own melodrama. It is, like so much of this type of pop, about being lost and alone. Belle and Sebastian influences creep in at the corners, especially in the final movement where the band loses control in an exceptionally orderly fashion.

Pontoons :: "Antidote"

With music that recalls the Elephant 6 catalog, Belle & Sebastian and bands like the Bodines, New York's Pontoons return after a 14 year layoff with the fantastic, "Antidote". Like an indie rock Mad Libs, "Antidote" features jangly guitars, a brutal lyrical allegory (here, poison, cures, etc.) and a driving chorus. The finest moment is the last one, a collision of barking lyrics - we presume about the kind of yelling, cathartic healing that people considered credible in the mid-1990s - and memorable, modulating melody. Of course, there isn't a much better "form meets function" moment than a lyric like, "I'm shouting my lungs out." Add the friscalating guitars at the fringes and we consider Pontoons - and everyone else - entirely healed.

Listen :: Pontoons - "Antidote"

King Of Prussia :: "Oh Me"

King of Prussia, the place, is a suburban wasteland near Philadelphia that doubles as the hometown of very pretty girls and America's second largest mall. King of Prussia, the historical figure, figured prominently in the unification of the modern nation-state of Germany along conservative political lines. King Of Prussia, the band, penned single, "Oh Me" as one of those love songs with a habit for symbolism that alternates between definitely depressing and maybe gross. And while there isn't a specific tie between girls, malls, metaphor and long-dead European autocrats, King Of Prussia and their brand of innocuous (this is, here, a compliment) and winning pop still manages to inspire each disembodied image. This is suitable for a band who declared their studio, during the recording of the album that contains, "Oh Me", the last part of the world that wasn't due for destruction, the last part of the world that wasn't melting. They declared a fake apocalypse, an untrue Rapture. The Teenage Fanclub and Belle & Sebastian footnotes are, however, correct. The band has sourced this all faithfully, images, style references and historical after thoughts bleeding together like pattern of the tile on the floor of America's second largest mall.

Listen :: King Of Prussia - "Oh Me"
Listen :: King Of Prussia - "Your Graduating Hours"

On The List :: Belle & Sebastian @ Williamsburg Waterfront [9.30.10]

In the most telling moment of the evening Belle & Sebastian front man, Stuart Murdoch invited several fans on stage to help clap along with "Write About Love," a song off their new LP of the same name. In the twee version of affirmative action, Murdoch stared into the audience selecting audience members based on their outward appearance. "Well, you're the tallest ... and you, you with the 'fro ... and you in the yellow." The result was an eclectic, if profoundly anti-rhythmic group clustered to stage left. They ran the gamut from chubby to skinny, ebullient and maudlin, animated and awkward, like a musically well-heeled reality television cast.

At the final chords of "Write About Love," Murdoch stared at his collection and said, "Oh, you aren't done yet," before breaking into the first strains of "The Boy With The Arab Strap." The group of super-fans moved to center stage as Murdoch retreated to a piano behind them. To the uninitiated observer, the band now looked like a mess of a fans fronting Belle & Sebastian, as the real band played back-up. These seven strangers spun in place, imitating Murdoch's springing dance steps, at least one with hands jammed awkwardly in his pockets and another impulsively grabbing a tambourine.

The real front man would eventually leave his piano to come dance with his followers in one of those explosive, "I'm okay! You're okay!" moments. It was winning and Murdoch took care to hug each audience member-turned-contributor as they left the stage, but not before bestowing medals around their necks in a weird, last-day-of-camp-everyone's-a-winner pathos. It is the essence of the band, the awkward inner-workings, the liberating weirdness of it all, these anthems for people who sat in the back of the library and now stood in front of 5,000 friends. Murdoch noted earlier in the evening that he wished for an enormous mirror so we could see the New York skyline behind us. In truth, he would have liked us to see him and ourselves at the same time, weird and all. (Setlist)

09 The Boy With The Arab Strap by Nathan Stern