6.25.2010

LOVE IT: Hanson - Shout It Out.

Hanson is one of those boy bands you can’t believe you were so in love with once upon a time. But once you turn the radio past 94.9FM and a snippet of “MMMbop” squeezes its way back into your heart, you forget all your inhibitions and crank up that jam. Mentally, you’re mentally back in middle school, each lyric rolling miraculously off your tongue and making your morning commute bouncy and carefree.


With their eighth album, Shout It Out, the band of brothers has brought me back to that mental place with another batch of perfectly-packaged power pop cookies. It’s eerie that they don’t seem to have aged much, in looks or vocal ranges, since their breakthrough in 1996. Their music has always been about life and love through the eyes of someone much too young to be world-weary (what 10-year-old seriously knows anything about relationships, or cares enough to break the cootie shield?), but now it seems they have finally matured.

Issac, Taylor, and Zac are all grown up, inching towards their 30s, raising broods big enough to build their own commune, and somehow they have enough excess energy to run their own small record label, write, record, and tour endlessly with big smiles on their purdy boyish faces. This energy is boundless on Shout It Out. With nary a ballad amongst its 12 tracks, it oozes with peppy charm that teeters dangerously on the edge of syrupy preciousness, and after a while it leaves an over-processed taste in your mouth. Richard Simmons will be reaching and lifting to these, no doubt about it. Yet after clapping along to the adorably cheesy video for “Thinking ‘Bout Somethin” (see it below — and what’s Weird Al doing there?), I can’t help but enjoy it — at least in small increments. The guys seem to know it’s hokey but make no apologies and are having a blast.

Shout It Out will likely be shelved after a few weeks on your iPod rotation, but there isn’t much more refreshing to hear than three brothers still flawlessly whippin’ out their instruments to do what they love together. (released June 8 on their label, 3CG Records).

LEAVE IT: Rooney - Eureka.

If it had been another band, I would not have been as disappointed. But it was Rooney, and because I expected an explosion of greatness, I was let down big time. Rooney’s third album, Eureka – recorded and self-released independently by the band after breaking from Geffen — is moderately adequate radio pop/rock. Maybe if the guys didn’t focus on being bitter and juvenile, their tunes would be enjoyable. As it is, however, their usually carefully crafted orchestrations just come off as sounding paint-by-numbers.


No song on Eureka is memorable. I listened to it twice yesterday, and today I cannot recall a single melody. The songs are lacking essential lifeblood - this from a band who seamlessly meshed 60s, 70s, and 80s madness with such feeling on two stellar previous albums. The band says this is the proudest they’ve ever been of their music; some critics call Eureka their best yet. I just don’t hear that.

Many songs, including “Holdin’ On,” “All Or Nothing,” and “I Can’t Get Enough” are straight up boring. “Not In My House” is bombarding and creepy. “The Hunch” laughably recalls the theme song to “Duck Tales,” but the punchy horns are peppy enough to make it the album’s highlight.

Where is Rooney’s trademark affinity for skull-rippingly excellent pop hooks? Robert (brother of actor/musician Jason) Schwartzman and Co. have lost their oomph. They mindlessly adhere to the verse-chorus-verse method of songwriting, trading their let’s-enjoy-life-no-matter-what philosophy for flat rhymes that spew at The Man and the music machine. It doesn’t have to be all sunny skies, but if clear weather is what it takes for Rooney to make good music, perhaps they should have cooled off a while longer, instead of giving fans an explosion of mediocrity.

I was going to see them at Crowbar on July 9, but I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think I can take seeing cardboard cut-outs of a band I love.

6.03.2010

LOVE IT: Delta Spirit - History From Below.

I saw Delta Spirit live three years ago and was literally struck dumb by their set. The group’s collective energy, multi-instrument switcheroos, and heartfelt sentiment was heart-warming and entrancing.


Such is the energy and emotion captured in the group’s second album, History From Below. In the three years since their self-released debut, the incredible this-is-all-you-will-listen-to-for-three-weeks Ode to Sunshine, Delta Spirit has moved into a real studio and given us 11 of the most captivating songs you will ever hear, and while the band sounds more polished, they haven’t lost the essence of what makes them so good.

The album opener, “911,” bounces around a relevant tale of economic caution while “Bushwick Blues” plows out of the speakers with pulsating rhythms and a message of human vulnerability. “Salt in the Wound” is one of those mind-reelingly personal songs that arouses intense emotion and knee-jerk replays. Listen to this one with headphones in a quiet space.

Delta Spirit is comprised of old souls who know just what to say in their major-key melodies and hopeful anthems to encourage and comfort the human race, or simply to help a person through theinevitability of heartbreak. “Ransom Man,” “St. Francis,” and “Ballad of Vitaly” quietly trudge through bravery, uncertainty, self-realization and unfair loss, but are so beautifully hopeful that I want to reach in and give singer Matt Vasquez a hug. He shouts and murmurs the lyrics like any man in crisis — rousing and intimate, he gets angry and frustrated and torn down by life, but pulls in the listener like a friend.

History From Below shines a light on the human condition, but offers a melancholy hope, as if to say, “Yep, life blows and storms are ahead, but we have life jackets.” (Out June 8 on Rounder Records)

LOVE IT: Eli "Paperboy" Reed - Come and Get It.

Stir Marvin Gaye with two cups of Otis Redding, two teaspoons of Little Richard, a dash of vanilla, and all of the excess energy you have left in your pantry. Bake for one hour and out pops Eli “Paperboy” Reed, the pompadour-sporting Jewish kid from Massachusetts who, surprisingly, rocks and jives on a level almost up there with the original masters of Motown. It blows my mind that his major label debut, Come and Get It (Capitol), wasn’t originally released in the ’60s.


From the moment “Explosion” came blasting from my car speakers, I knew I was in for an exciting throwback to the time of jive and soul and bands with horn sections and a frontman sporting shlicked back hair and delivering falsetto screams in an awesome nod to all those men who really knew how to trap emotions in a vocal. The song is a bit erratic but definitely gets you pumped for the ensuing, better organized Motown-tinged rhythms and melodies.

With his backing band, True Loves (precious, right?), Reed delivers soul and groove enough to knock you off your feet – or onto them. These tunes are made for a dance floor, and I couldn’t help but tap along to the beat with every part of my body that wasn’t occupied by keeping my car on the road.

Each song offers a different color of the Motown spectrum, and though the album’s pace could be smoother — the latter half suddenly halts into a string of slow blues after a fervor of upbeat wailers — Come and Get It will be a delight to those of us who miss, as Reed describes it, “an explosion of rhythm and blues.” It’s no Marvin or Otis, but it’s a pretty dang decent substitute for the real thing.

5.13.2010

LOVE IT: Kaki King - Junior.

Sometimes artists try too hard to revolutionize themselves and as a result, the changes they make sound forced. Though some of her new material is familiarly expressive — that enigmatic and mesmerizingly shapeable mass of notes — such is the case with Kaki King’s fifth full-length, Junior (Rounder).


King’s guitar skills are unmatched. After listening to 30 seconds of any track on any album, this is an obvious fact. The woman can finger-pick and fret-tap her instrument into a whirlwind of melodic percussion so well that you have no idea what you’re listening to – she is Rolling Stone’s first female “Rock God,” shredding mere notes on a page into unforgettable sounds. So it’s disappointing that her sparse and incredibly emotive instrumental style is lost on Junior.

Like other albums produced in the aftermath of personal crisis, Junior’s blend of tension, frustration, heartbreak, bitterness, and the ever-distant possibility of happiness overwhelms the tracks – an often claustrophobic miasma of depression and anger too palpable to digest in just one sitting. Plus, King is a player, not a singer, and her undisciplined voice gets an unfortunate spotlight. The gnashing mixture of King’s spitting lyrics and her band’s simplistic, punk-influenced jams like “Falling Day,” “Death Head” and “The Betrayer” – which opens the album on a startling harsh note – remind listeners that even though King’s technical mastery is clear, she expects us to follow her through the five stages of post-relationship grief. Consequently, the album feels bipolar and un-Kaki.

Some of Junior is a welcome addition to King’s repertoire, and it is these moments that make Junior worth experiencing. Her instrumental wizardry is a thing to behold, and the gems (notably “My Nerves That Committed Suicide”) hidden between unimpressive songs should be enough to hook potential fans.

LOVE IT: The Bird and the Bee - Interpreting the Masters, Vol. 1: A Tribute to Daryl Hall and John Oates.

Ah, Hall & Oates. Mullets and mustaches. Synths and hand claps. Emotional lyrics and hearts on fringy, acid-washed jean sleeves.

I was dubious when I heard about a cover album made up of the sacred duo’s most celebrated works. But since I love the Bird and the Bee, I was intrigued by their latest LP, Interpreting the Masters, Vol. 1: A Tribute to Daryl Hall and John Oates (Blue Note Records). Lo and behold, this duo approaches the project with finesse and respect, bringing H&O into The Now with a light, feminine makeover.


Kicking things off is the twosome’s sole original, “Heard It On The Radio” — a track so soaked in synths and awesomely ’80s that I initially thought, “Wow, they discovered a vaulted Hall & Oates song!” No, it’s 100 percent made in 2010, but it cleverly flows with the covers of “I Can’t Go For That,” “Sara Smile,” “Kiss On My List,” “One on One” and the other tripendicular H&O tunes you were secretly devoted to listening to in your youth.

The album’s highlight is “Maneater.” With a modern, synthesized beat and backing vocals by Garbage’s Shirley Manson, this cover is the epitome of all that is right with Interpreting the Masters. Instead of twisting an instantly recognizable melody into something too genre-skewed to be appropriate, the Bird and the Bee upgrade the sassy “Whoa-oh, here she comes” chorus with 21st century technology to create something fresh and accessible. The song can now go out in public again and be accepted by people who weren’t alive when “Maneater” originally topped the charts in 1982.

While I was disappointed that my own personal H&O favorite, “You Make My Dreams,” didn’t make the cut, I was impressed overall. The Bird and the Bee have succeeded in paying a pitch-perfect, sticky-sweet homage to one of the most enduring, secure-in-their-masculinity songwriting teams on the planet.

4.23.2010

LEAVE IT: The Postelles - White Night EP.

As evidenced by The Postelles’ four-song EP, White Night, the spunky New York indie-rockers seem to think a set of drums, guitars and a Brit-pop vinyl collection are all it takes to make music. Au contraire. Making music takes three important steps. At least.


One: Worship pioneers of your designated musical genre — in the Postelles‘ case, the Police, the Kooks, the Strokes, and similar New Wave-experimental phenomenons.

Two: Learn to play an instrument and/or sing. Or master Auto-Tune. Or come up with a reasonable defense for your deficiency, like, “Hey, we’re gritty, the off-key singing is a metaphor for cold government corruption and garage-rock chaos is our blanket.”

Three: Fueled by your idols and muses, experiment until you find your own sound. Someone listening to your music should not completely confuse you with someone else. Imagine the embarrassment of the “Who Wore It Best” pages in People. Two A-listers should avoid arriving at a swanky event in the same fuchsia Valentino gown. Likewise, a band’s guitar reverb and syncopated back-beat should pay homage to their genre while reminding people why they are listening to said band and not the masters who inspired them. Vanilla Ice might have gotten away with that heinous rip-off of “Under Pressure,” but rock aficionados are still in an uproar.

As I enjoyed the four frisky jams on the Postelles’ EP, I mindlessly assumed the disc was a side project of a Vampire Weekend member. It’s not, though the band does hail from NYC. White Night (out now on Capitol) has three decent enough tracks and a pleasant remix, none of them inspired enough to become a stand-out single. Yes, my foot was tappin’, and yes, I caught myself muttering along with the repetitive choruses (”sleep on the dance floor, sleep on the dance floor”… as if this were ever possible, by the way, unless you’re at a retirement center polka party). But the music is so derivative that half the time, it really felt like I was listening to the Kooks.

The Postelles have clearly mastered the first two steps of good music-making, but until they begin to sound more unique, they’ll have trouble carving a niche out for themselves in music history.

3.19.2010

LOVE IT: ALO - Man Of The World.

Animal Liberation Orchestra (ALO) needs to get famous already. It’s frustrating to see a band with this much potential sucked under the industry rug by underexposure. Hopefully, the third release of the self-acknowledged funkateers, 2010’s Man of the World, will find ALO reaping the rewards they deserve.


The opening and closing tracks of Man of the World are a rip-roarin’ good time – full of playful harmonies and sing-a-longs that often come off as a sort of Wilco-Wallflowers-Moody Blues jam party. But somewhere in the middle, the songs take a introspective turn, as if the guys were having a grand old time until someone got hurt and made them briefly re-evaluate their songwriting priorities. These four lush tracks will likely land on your “Meditative Road Trip Playlist.”

ALO is signed to Jack Johnson’s Hawaii-based Brushfire Records, so ample doses of indie sunshine are a given. All four members take turns on lead vocals, and they genre-jump from one multi-layered song to the next, touching on piano pop, reggae-blues-funk, down-home folk and more. This dexterity speaks volumes about their musical range without ever becoming distracting. And Johnson’s subtle co-production influence can be heard, especially as when makes a guest appearance the intimately sparse “Gardener’s Grave.”

While more structured than previous ALO albums, Man of the World is still essentially the fruit of a jam band, a spontaneous musical birth that must must be jaw-droppingly incredible to experience live.

ALO has a spark of uniqueness missing in so much of today’s music, and Man of the World is a must-have. As they’re about to riff-off on an instrumental jam in “The Champ,” they all yell, “Listen to my band!” And you’ll want to.

3.05.2010

LOVE IT: Ian Axel - This Is The New Year.

There is no such thing as a perfect album. But Ian Axel’s debut, This is the New Year, comes pretty doggone close. I haven’t loved an entire album this much since I discovered Harry Nilsson’s 1971 life-changer, Nilsson Schmilsson. Along the same notes as that legendary whiz, Axel tinkers and pounds on his piano keys, and sings about waltzing ghosts and life’s simple pleasures.


Axel’s astonishing talent has been too long hidden in the underground of NYC’s Lower East Side, too long hoarded by those lucky enough to frequent his intimate, Ben Folds-esque performances around the city. This man needs some national love, pronto!

Like the power poppers who paved the way before him, most of Axel’s New Year is predominately piano-driven. What sets Axel apart is his constant experimentation with pop-rooted melodies. Track by track, he fluctuates from sassiness to sincerity with foot-stomping porch-party jigs, touching instrumental waltzes that will shred your heart into confetti, and sweeping sing-a-longs akin to the Dresden Doll’s self-described “Brechtian punk cabaret” (minus the masochistic lyrics and screaming).

When the album’s titular single was released as a free download on iTunes, I replayed it over and over again until I knew it by heart and was belting out the lyrics louder than my car stereo. Axel’s call to “say everything you’ve always wanted, be not afraid of who you really are…live for now” is so full of earnest optimism that you can’t help but get pumped up by the clean-slate possibilities of New Year’s Resolutions.

If it makes you gag to think of the sunny side of life, or of one man’s love of PB&J that’s so strong the sandwich makes it onto two tracks, steer clear of Axel’s music. But if you are a fan of witty and memorable power pop, your life will have been meaningless until you experience This Is the New Year. (Self-released January 5, 2010).

2.16.2010

LOVE IT: Jason Derülo - Self-Titled.

Artists radiowide have re-embraced the time-honored boy band tradition of mixing catchy pop melodies with high-quality R&B vocal abilities. Apparently, someone out there has finally reached the shocking realization that holding the same note for three minutes isn’t talent. It’s boring. Singers who can’t sing are being thrust out of the spotlight (does anyone really miss Sean Paul?), and those award-worthy talents who might have a chance at winning are now taking their place on the charts.


Enter Jason Derülo. You may recognize him as the artist behind the Billboard-topping single, “Whatcha Say.” Read this review again in six months, and you and the whole world will know exactly why Derülo is going to be huge.

First, he collaborated with the great Imogen Heap to record the aforementioned song, which samples heavily from Heap’s own “Hide and Seek.” It’s a beautiful pop-meets-R&B synergistic experience and more than 2 million digital copies of the song have already been sold. Dare I predict stardom for Derülo and too-long-in-the-shadows Heap?

Second, his songs are instantly addictive, melodically rich and unforgettable in every way. No wonder 93.3 FLZ plays “In My Head” every 15 minutes.

Third, he convinces us that all those boy bands we grew up shamefully listening to with our Girl Scout friends actually had something, and that we shouldn’t be embarrassed about belting out a Backstreet Boys chorus or two even if we’re in our mid-20s. Maybe an actual melody, a legitimate set of pipes, an unapologetically glossy background track, and hip-shakin’ choreography are the way to go.

So next time you cringe about your time as an *NSYNC devotee, flip on the radio and you’ll see just how many people are loving pop/R&B hybrids. Emerging artists like Jason Derülo are the jumper cables to the battery of pop music. (Jason Derülo is due out March 2 via Beluga Heights)