Isle of Rhodes :: "Ocean"

In an unscientific study it was discovered that only three or four Americans hate the song "In The Meantime" by Spacehog. Put another way: mid-90s alternative rock, the last evolutionary moment before mainstream rock and roll was hijacked by Korn and Limp Bizkit, never really died. It is a gone and mildly unremembered era, a time when "Wonderwall" was the single best rock song ever written and people, honestly, wrestled with and parsed visual metaphor like, "slowly walking down the hall, faster than a cannonball." Brooklyn's Isle of Rhodes makes music in a similar aesthetic, and "Ocean", the lead track from the band's debut All Rivers and Oceans, sounds like something that could easily have dominated college and alternative radio formats in 1994, and maybe even 2012. It would need a radio edit, to be sure, as its five-minute run time would only have been rivaled in length by Blur's "Girls and Boys" (cut down from 4:50 to 4:18 for US single release, which, unsurprisingly went to number four on the US modern rock chart in '94). But, "Ocean" has a hell of a chorus - "We want an ocean" - a soaring and catchy hook that sticks on impact, something so repeatable that you could easily forget that Isle of Rhodes records as a two-piece, neither of which is a guitar. "Ocean" represents a gorgeous slice of nostalgia when John Major and Bill Clinton shook hands and the Atlantic Ocean was only a puddle to be jumped by the next great rock band that sounded like this.

September Girls :: "Danny Wood"

Irish skuzz-poppers, September Girls craft a brand of music that lies somewhere between Tennis and early Dum Dum Girls, just as cloying as it is a bit dangerous. Menacing bass and fuzzy guitars give way to a bouncy chorus of call-and-response vocals, the kind of thing that would be utterly adorable if not for the persistent threat of rock and roll at the periphery. "Danny Wood" is the kind of demo music you dreamed all the cute girls in your neighborhood were recording in their basements and garages. September Girls are way too cool for the dance but never too cool for dancing.

Letting Up Despite Great Faults :: "Bulletproof Girl"

Letting Up Despite Great Faults are something of a one-trick pony. They craft these post-chillwave jams for listeners tied intimately to the notion of grinding and pretty failures. "Bulletproof Girl" is no different with lyrics like, "I can see every word bounce off you" and "If I fall, would you take me down?". The keyboards glow with intentional florescence, an arrangement of growing insistence that arrives at the band's best chorus, rising to the hum of highway noise and a final conditional, "If I find my way back ... ." The girl in the title is immaculate, not privy to nicks and dings, the object of getting lost and realizing only too late that you had no weapons against her.

Departures :: "Pillars"

One of the best post-punk debuts of 2012 comes from Departures, a Canadian five-piece drawing on the tradition of Echo and the Bunnymen and early Bloc Party. "Pillars", a bass-heavy, shout-along affair, is eerily reminiscent of Kele Okereke's didactic vocals and roughed-up arrangement for "The Answer," though minus the final crashing conclusion and such a biting aphorism as, "you could talk a little less." The guitar leads on "Pillars" rip and charge as sharp angles behind dark lyrics like, "I don't want for you to see" and a surprisingly catchy chorus. It's all been intentionally buried in layers and layers of fuzz, but the melodies emerge from the haze, a haunting series of zombie hooks left to run roughshod over your zip code.

The Zolas :: "Observatory"

The Zolas rely on their ability to find a cloud-clearing chorus in their mixture of indie rock tropes and exceptionally hook-driven piano arrangements. On "Observatory", the second promotional release following one of the catchiest songs of 2012, "Knot In My Heart", the band is again at their methodical and occasionally weird work. "Observatory" is ostensibly a song about a stick-up in the midst of a break in, though it certainly chases down some increasingly bizarre pathways ("I want to read your book but I don't want to break the spine" and "We know we're living in a tumor/we know we're living in a coral reef") as the arrangement unfolds. It all boils toward the chorus, a bit of Spoon with the edges softened, an ebullient little slice of pop that will stick in your head immediately and for days.

Interview :: Alt-J [10.2.12]

Hotly-tipped UK band Alt-J, currently out on tour supporting past 32ft/sec interviewee's GROUPLOVE, shot some emails back and forth with us about their love of trainers, what the hell is a "Breezeblock" and what happens when someone, or everyone, starts comparing your band to Radiohead in 2012. Our questions and their answers after the jump.

On The List :: Sun Kil Moon @ Music Hall of Williamsburg [9.29.12]

[Ed.note] This review runs live and first on Bowery's House List blog. There is also no video or imagery from this show by anyone, anywhere, which is, if you think about it, sort of amazing in 2012. Kozelek fans live in the moment.

Mark Kozelek has already written this review. Without being overly meta, this is to say that he is both in on the joke and knows everything you might say or write about him. We all know this even without listening to his most recent thesis statement, “Sunshine in Chicago,” a song about being a musician getting older who used to play in a sort of famous band and is now a sort of famous solo artist, with all the niceties aside. The singer, alone onstage at Music Hall of Williamsburg on Saturday, referenced exactly this notion while telling a protracted story about an incident from the previous evening in Philadelphia: 45-year-old Kozelek had made a broken pass at the 23-year old daughter of a fan, 58, who had invited the singer out to dinner with the family. Kozelek asked the daughter to dinner instead, and the father was incensed. “I don’t play Christian Rock,” said Kozelek. “My music is about death, depression, trying to get laid and not getting laid.”

There were chairs in the venue, and the lights came nearly all the way down as the singer took the stage amidst a reverent hush. Kozelek, dressed in a dark dress shirt and jeans, sat alone with his guitar, two bottles of water and a Becks that he would accidentally spill (and might have been nonalcoholic if the basement bartender can be believed on these sorts of vagaries). “One of the few pleasures I have,” Kozelek offered as maybe nonalcoholic Becks foamed from the neck of the salvaged bottle. He opened with Modest Mouse’s “Four Fingered Fisherman,” with the lyric “It doesn’t matter anyway”—spilled beer, not getting laid, sitting in chairs at a rock venue were all forgivable mistakes. He followed this with an original, “Moorestown,” which you could argue is the best song ever written about New Jersey by someone other than Bruce Springsteen. Kozelek settled in and girded himself for a set that was to be as long as a Paul Thomas Anderson movie, obliterating the audience in his quiet way on the night’s fourth offering, “Missed My Heart.”

Kozelek had not arrived here to save anyone, but the audience already knew this. On “Elaine,” a tune from his most recent record, Kozelek murmured, “Wish I could help you with your problems, but, babe, I’ve got enough of my own.” It is true for his audience, too, as he encouraged two fans to box after they yelled rival song titles from the wings. He may as well have tried to fuck their daughters. Everyone seemed to grasp this completely. Kozelek closed with “Cruiser,” a favorite, but the night was better summed up by his “UK Blues,” a song about being miserable on a European tour, with each new place, Finland, Denmark, London, Belfast, featured in the chorus. “Belfast, Belfast,” sang Kozelek, but it could have been “Brooklyn, Brooklyn,” just another stop on the singer’s moveable feast of earnest sadness. These are things everyone already knew but came to see anyway. Kozelek didn’t play “Sunshine in Chicago,” partly because he didn’t need to.