Princeton :: "Remembance Of Things To Come"

The soul of baroque, sun-soaked pop grew up on a tiny street in the Western part of Los Angeles. Princeton, the band of two brothers, were reared on the street of the same name in Santa Monica, a tree-lined slice of two-story heaven just a short jaunt from the best tacos and watermelon drink in the city down on Olympic Boulevard. It is this type of sprawling suburban dream where you can imagine a childhood with equal parts Bach, Vivaldi, Paul Simon and Joni Mitchell. Princeton, the band, distills these elements, a dose of the Classical and portions of the World and folk traditions that inform so much of modern independent rock, into something gorgeous and swimming on latest single, "Remembrance Of Thing To Come". The afternoons languidly spill into evenings and the trees block just enough of the south-facing sides of the houses, and though we know none of this is new, it feels rich and important when done this well.

River Whyless :: "Cedar Dream Part II"

A cedar dream must mean a great deal more if you live close to the woods. It is something pastoral, nature cast as wild but ultimately tameable behind lyrics like, "And where will I sleep, if the trees we felled never stand as beams." This, we assume, the metaphorical house to be built with another among the pines and the birches. And images like these offer an update to the themes of heartbroken pop like the Decemberists' "Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect", narratives about building toward some unreachable and unrequited construction. River Whyless, a pleasant folk-outfit from Boone, North Carolina, traffic these pathways with ease, alternating male and female vocals with crushing aplomb. The story and melody unfold together, groupings of strings and acoustic guitar colliding with vocals, alone and together, a house, for the moment, left unfinished in the wild.

Deportees :: "Islands and Shores"

Lyrics like, "something gets to die when something lives" are functionally meaningless, yet when thrown into the right type of sky-riding rock song, they can be later justified as a kind of pitch-perfect emotional fodder. Deportees, a band we posted about a few weeks back, do just this on older single, "Islands and Shores". Recalling a less bombastic Temper Trap, the down-cast guitars are set against a swirling mixture of synths, backing vocals and strings. The climactic lyric, the chorus, risks being just as un-utilitarian as the the one about living and dying. This time the band intones, "looking out for this love, looking out for us," as a choir of voices rise in the background and the arrangement reaches its high-water mark. Accomplishing meaning in reverse, Deportees build an architecture that gives weight to the lyrics inside it, even if those lyrics struggle to find to find the same weight at their center. When done right, and this qualifies, these moments and couplets can be recast as desperately important. A line like, "if it was up to me I'd give you all the oceans" pulled off the yearbook page and thrust, improbably and incredibly, into your short term memory.

Deportees - Islands And Shores (New Single) by UniversalMusicSweden

Tiny Victories :: "Gravitron"

It is the seasick nostalgia of our childhoods that make these memories both faded and brilliant. Echoing in us like a burned Polaroid, these vignettes still call us to higher purpose, a memory of a self that both does and doesn't still exist. Brooklyn's Tiny Victories bridge easily this type of gap between the muddied reverb of their arrangements and the top-of-the-room choruses that build the architecture of their refrains. On "Gravitron", a suitably spinning melody whips around and around as the hook with double-tap drums playing the dual role of enforcer and sycophant. The final explosion roots in the lyric, "We could think about it", spun round a few times and tossed out dizzy and entirely satisfied.

Mike O'Neill :: "Henry"

Playful drums and friscalating backing vocals lay the groundwork for Mike O'Neill's latest single, "Henry". The chorus is empty and full at once, layers upon layers of woozy "doos" acting as the hook in place of the hook that isn't totally there. Replay, given "Henry" is only two-and-half minutes long, proves a satisfying ride, lolling down the back of a simple piano progression and the sweetest little melodies you'll hear today. For the Wes Anderson movie appropriated to personal aesthetic experience, the tweed jacket worn with a straight face, "Henry" pulses up and down with a motion all its own and a sepia filter that doesn't feel a bit dishonest.



via Indie Music Filter

Burning Hearts :: "Burn Burn Burn"

Perhaps being forced by your housemate to listen to Enya unironically for the past three months makes a person susceptible to the voice and melodies of Burning Hearts singer, Jessika Rapo. A Finnish duo turned four-piece, Rapo merges her dulcet voice with the arrhythmiatic key signature changes from drummer, Henry Ojala. "Burn Burn Burn" opens with haunting scarcity, a sparse arrangement and the tripartite repetition of lyrics. The chorus gives way to something else, a building urgency, metaphors about roaming the deserts and forests. Layers upon layers of vocals offer a raging potential energy to the song's final movement, a desire to scream along with Rapo, to turn this up and let it spin wildly out of control. Of course, this is compartmentalized and denied, a dignified brand of austerity that is, frankly, hard to look away from.

Superhumanoids :: "Geri"

LA's electricity and groundwater must have trace elements of neon in it. For anyone who enjoyed M83's most recent (or, hell, any) effort, Superhumanoids' "Geri" has some of the same DNA. The synths hum and the male-female vocal interplay sounds like a slow motion dribble hand-off between two sleek, languid guards. The forecast calls for something permanently dark, rife with glowing electronics and a hook sharp enough to stick in your chest.