The Ballet :: "In My Head" and "I Hate The War"

The Ballet produce super-self-aware orchestral pop in the same vein as some of the less annoying twee music you know. Or if twee is a four-letter word, let's just settle on the fact that The Magnetic Fields comparison is something almost everyone supports. The melodies and lyrics are of the kinds of diary-entry heartbreak that would seem cloying if they were done any less well. Goldberg is clearly a student of pop, and writes tunes that safely reiterate and explain his influences. But it's safe and enjoyable. Once the "na's" in "I Hate The War" kick, you won't care where this came from or how it got here. We'd just be guessing anyway.

Listen :: The Ballet - "In My Head"
Bonus :: The Ballet - "I Hate The War"

Alligators :: "Where Does It Hide"

Alligators make sweeping, adult pop. That doesn't mean it's unenergetic or flat. It's Beach Boys harmony, melodies out of The Zombies playbook and less-intense affinity for Teenage Fanclub than The Brother Kite. That's a lot of references in one sentence. It's frankly unhelpful. You're right. We screwed this up - my bad. Let's try this again.

Alligators make sweeping, adult pop. That doesn't mean it's unenergetic or flat. It's melodic and sun-soaked and has a slick second-movement. It's fun without being vacuous, demanding without being irritating. The first two times through, the chorus is an anthemic stutter-step, elevating before managing to dial itself back down into the next verse. At times you can close your eyes and hear Tigercity or Grand Archives. We're doing it again. This was supposed to go better, I promise.

So, no overstatements or comparisons. Listen to the song. It's your world. We all just live in it.

Listen :: Alligators - "Where Does It Hide"

On The List :: Cut Off Your Hands @ Mercury Lounge [5.8.09]

I caught Cut Off Your Hands 18-months ago in the basement of the Delancey. It was CMJ 2007. They went just before Foreign Born and absolutely leveled the crowd. After the show, they handed me a copy of their EP. It was 11pm. While their guitarist slumped against the wall, sweating profusely, their handler informed him they had just booked another show later that night. In one of my favorite moments of all-time, he looked his manager dead in the face and said, "I am so fucking tired." They agreed to play the show.

Last night was a little different. Perhaps it was a bit more mechanical, if no less energetic. This runs in full on The House List.

The band, sounding like The Futureheads who grew up listening to Morrissey records, followed in time; bassist and guitarist shouting their vocals into their mics. It was only until after the third song that Johonson looked back at the sound board and said, "We're going to need more guitar. And more drums. And more crowd." The last sentence was so quiet, it was almost missed. But it was exactly what he meant: we are going to need more crowd. They launched into "Turn Cold," arguably their second-best song.

Listen :: Cut Off Your Hands - "Turn Cold"

Papercuts :: "The Dictator's Lament"

My friend Chuck cares about music more than anyone I know. He purchases albums - we're talking thousands of dollars of music - while the rest of you right-click, save as, open in iTunes. He goes to shows. He talks about bands with passion not hyperbole and passes this information along. In short, Chuck is everything that is right with the music industry: a player, a critic, a consumer. And he really digs Papercuts. I don't like everything Chuck likes. He's a better critic than I. But, I like this.

"The Dictator's Lament" is maybe the best song off the latest Papercuts release. It sounds like a roughed-around version of The Shins singing REM classic "Crush (With Eyeliner)." Seriously, wait for the last measure of the chorus and sing, "it's a crush ... with eyeliner." It makes sense. Almost to the point where you sing the next line, "I know you ..." even though it doesn't fit or make sense with the music. Chuck would never do this. But you can.

Listen :: Papercuts - "The Dictator's Lament"

Loney Dear :: "Airport Surroundings"

Loney Dear's "Airport Surroundings" reminds me of my phone's alarm. The chimes in the background right before the chorus, well, they're the same as a possible alarm tone on a Blackberry Storm (WOOOOOOSHHHH!). Which means, there are parts of the chorus that evoke something painfully Pavlovian in me. Those chimes, those noises, say, "Wake up. And not in that epic Arcade Fire 'Wake Up' way. Wake up, in the tragic, 'you will feel awful for the next 90 minutes until you arrive at your job and realize you love what you do' way." 5:45am is a weird time. So, those chimes don't really elevate me. They make me exhausted.

But, "Airport Surroundings" has something dark and candid about it; something that reminds me about driving at night or taking a red-eye from California. You can almost feel the road slip under your tires. You can feel the tarmac release you from gravity until you wake up somewhere else. The vocals are hushed and full of nonsense (too many nas, not enough heys) but nonetheless front a song that feels moving. Because the only time you should wake up at 5:45am on the east coast is when you took off at 11pm in LA.

Listen :: Loney Dear - "Airport Surroundings"

Cloud Cult :: "Pretty Voice"

It's a grey day in New York, the hint of rain and the less-than-steely resolve of humidity. It rained yesterday and the pessimists are calling for rain tomorrow until the end of the world. Of course, the glass-half-full types see some beauty in the breakdown. Whether karma or statistical odds or some platitude (it's darkest before the dawn, the light at the end of the tunnel), some of us believe that the bleakest weather (metaphorically, like a sledgehammer) is the greatest time for turn-around. Frankly, how much worse could it get?

Cloud Cult, from all the way back in 2007, offer a melancholy position on hope. Invoking superhero literature and a dramatic sense of irony (what exactly does the crowd not know?), the band chases down something painful. "Strike up the band/here comes the storyline/of the usual struggle/between fear and love." The drama is high and the melody pulses like the hum of a forgotten, yet increasingly insistent television. The narrative is about loss. But, there are messages and signals in loss (see: paragraph one). Enter hero girl. That's a quote.

Listen :: Cloud Cult - "Pretty Voice"

The Lonely Forest :: "We Sing In Time"

A result of changing speech cadences, we've taken to saying "new" and then a noun. It indicates pleasure. It indicates approval. Someone plays a song you like. You say: New band. New song. The rough translation is: I enjoy this and would like to hear more. New song. This new way of talking (new talking) is almost complete owed to the marbled-mouthed, Midwestern speech patterns of one of our most recent friends. We took to it like wild fire. New fire. New friend.

So, I suppose it's no coincidence that The Lonely Forest's "We Sing In Time" spoke immediately to me. "I'll find a new breath. A new life. To take me away." It's pretty dramatic. Now it helps that The Lonely Forest are writing about progress. More specifically, they're writing about how progress, even the end of humanity might provide opportunities for new life. New song.

Sonically, The Lonely Forest sound like a sped-up version of Band of Horses; same throbbing drums and resolving melodies. Same ethereal vocals. It's good. So say it with me, say it with our entire group of friends. New song. New band.

Listen :: The Lonely Forest - "We Sing In Time"