Hailing from New York City, The Pains of Being Pure at Heart first made a name for itself in the indie-pop scene back in 2009 with the release of its eminently catchy self-titled debut. On follow-up Belong, the band sharpens its sound and takes listeners on a trip down memory lane.
Belong, the album’s opening title track, is a dead ringer for early 1990s Smashing Pumpkins, as dreamy verse sections give way to marching-band drum rolls tucked within deliciously fuzzed out explosions of sound, while Kip Berman seems to be doing a rather admirable impression of William Corgan’s trademark whisper vocals.
But despite its occasional flirtations with 1990’s alt-rock sensibilities, the album is undoubtedly a child of the 1980s. Chugging four-on-the-floor beats, snare hits that sound like they were recorded in a cathedral, sparkling arpeggiated guitars and soaring synth movements are reminiscent of a time when big hair and heavy makeup ruled the rock world.
My Terrible Friend sounds like something Robert Smith would have penned two and half decades ago (think Friday I’m in Love), but the band pulls it off so well that one can’t help but forgive it. After all is said and done, saccharine synth-lines and bouncy acoustic guitars go a long way toward putting a smile on a person’s face.
Say what you will about the music sounding dated, it isn’t easy to do what The Pains of Being Pure at Heart is doing. Merely appreciating music from another era is one thing, but creating highly detailed and decidedly tasteful reproductions of music from another era, replete with splashes of modern flavor, is quite another.
Belong may never be thought of as a classic record, simply because it is too derivative. But it is nonetheless a well-crafted ode to the band’s rock ’n’ roll heroes. And because it is infectious and fun, it is worth a listen.
Panda Bear is the long-running (well over a decade now) musical project of Noah Benjamin Lennox, who is perhaps best known for his contribution to the critically acclaimed experimental rock group Animal Collective. But his solo projects, particularly the 2007 release Perfect Pitch, have also won him accolades from the press, and Tomboy, his new release, is likely to continue this trend.
The opening track, You Can Count On Me, begins with Lennox’s lone voice, heavily drenched in effects, chanting a play on words — is it “know you can count on me” or “no, you can’t count on me”? — as if it were a mantra. Epic synths and booming percussion then enter, the melody stretches itself out across several bars, and one instantly imagines a far away, transcendental space.
This sense of distance and mysticism permeates the entire record. Atop densely woven atmospherics, Lennox’s vocal melodies weave to and fro, rarely touching ground, glued together by lengthy chord progressions within which listeners lose their sense of time and direction.
Lennox certainly has a gift for crafting highly-nuanced soundscapes pieced together with sounds collected from, well, who knows where. And although the collection of sounds comprising the record is more consistent than some of Panda Bear’s previous efforts, the occasional inability to identify just what it is that you’re listening to is one of the pleasures of Tomboy.
On Friendship Bracelet, heavy tremolo renders all sounds as water, like a stream of consciousness, while peculiar squeaks and yelps, sounding a bit like wild animals, enter and exit. There are guitars here, somewhere, buried beneath crashing waves of strange sound. Trippy, indeed.
Panda Bear’s latest psychedelic opus is, all in all, quite a success. Though it is a far cry from anything that could be called easily accessible, a good pair of headphones and a comfortable couch would go a long way toward winning over new fans.
John Darnielle has been making music under the name of The Mountain Goats for over two decades, his work slowly evolving from spur of the moment, solo boom-box recordings to proper studio offerings with a full backing band. But Darnielle’s music has always drawn its strength from his lyrics, which knit together clever, well-wrought images in support of themes ranging from the strangely epic to the disarmingly personal.
Though All Eternals Deck often deals with difficult subject matter, Darnielle sometimes reduces life’s agonies into easy-to-swallow pellets of wisdom — for better or for worse, depending on your level of cynicism.
One of the record’s best moments is the track High Hawk Season, on which baritone backing vocals act as a charming counter-point to Darnielle as he sings the virtues of a universe full of uncertainty: “Who will rise and who will sing? Who’s going to stand his ground and who’s going to blink?”
Although Darnielle is far from a great singer, he does have the voice of a storyteller, and this is the strength to which he plays. The lovely For Charles Bronson shines as an agreeably melancholic ode to one of America’s most revered actors. “Set your sights on good fortune/Concentrate/Pull back the hammer/Try to hold the gun straight.”
Darnielle follows in a long line of sensitive songwriters operating within well-accepted norms. As such, on a purely musical level, there is little to be excited about. There are those who insist the boom-box recordings of yesteryear are somehow more powerful, due to their uniqueness. But packaged as they are now, his words are likely to reach more fans than ever before.
The Weeknd has become one of the most hyped acts on the Internet in recent months, thanks to some well-timed tweets by Toronto hip-hop sensation Drake. After giving the public a mysterious three-song sampler on YouTube, The Weeknd has dropped House of Balloons, a freely downloadable mixtape of startlingly sinister R ’n’ B.
We now know that the primary force behind the project is another Toronto native, R ’n’ B singer Abel Tesfaye. Tesfay’s voice is of the creamy smooth sort — a perfect fit for the radio-friendly pop that dominates R ’n’ B charts. But The Weeknd is a far cry from radio-friendly pop. There is something downright disturbing about House of Balloons, from start to finish. This is the dark side of sex, drugs, and R ’n’ B.
Opening track High for This sets the tone with grinding synths, humming atmospherics and spooky, distorted, heavily filtered beats. “Hold tight for this ride/We don’t need no protection,” Tesfaye beseeches. “Trust me girl/You wanna be high for this.”
But there is a price to pay for sensual excess. On Coming Down, Tesfaye finds himself drained and desolate, seemingly unable to crawl out of the hole he’s dug. Chirping sounds reminiscent of mobile phone rings and ghostly snippets of phone conversations communicate a sense of desperation: “Pick up your phone/The party’s finished/And I want you to know/I’m all alone.”
House of Balloons is an intriguing debut, and its production is arrestingly beautiful in parts. But for all of its virtues, there is a sense that its aesthetic appeal, born primarily from curious juxtapositions, is likely to be fleeting. Still, give it a shot if you’re looking for something wholly different.
In late October of 1873 the government of Japan decided against sending a military expedition to Korea to force that nation to open trade relations. Across the government supporters of the expedition resigned immediately. The spectacle of revolt by disaffected samurai began to loom over Japanese politics. In January of 1874 disaffected samurai attacked a senior minister in Tokyo. A month later, a group of pro-Korea expedition and anti-foreign elements from Saga prefecture in Kyushu revolted, driven in part by high food prices stemming from poor harvests. Their leader, according to Edward Drea’s classic Japan’s Imperial Army, was a samurai
Located down a sideroad in old Wanhua District (萬華區), Waley Art (水谷藝術) has an established reputation for curating some of the more provocative indie art exhibitions in Taipei. And this month is no exception. Beyond the innocuous facade of a shophouse, the full three stories of the gallery space (including the basement) have been taken over by photographs, installation videos and abstract images courtesy of two creatives who hail from the opposite ends of the earth, Taiwan’s Hsu Yi-ting (許懿婷) and Germany’s Benjamin Janzen. “In 2019, I had an art residency in Europe,” Hsu says. “I met Benjamin in the lobby
April 22 to April 28 The true identity of the mastermind behind the Demon Gang (魔鬼黨) was undoubtedly on the minds of countless schoolchildren in late 1958. In the days leading up to the big reveal, more than 10,000 guesses were sent to Ta Hwa Publishing Co (大華文化社) for a chance to win prizes. The smash success of the comic series Great Battle Against the Demon Gang (大戰魔鬼黨) came as a surprise to author Yeh Hung-chia (葉宏甲), who had long given up on his dream after being jailed for 10 months in 1947 over political cartoons. Protagonist
Peter Brighton was amazed when he found the giant jackfruit. He had been watching it grow on his farm in far north Queensland, and when it came time to pick it from the tree, it was so heavy it needed two people to do the job. “I was surprised when we cut it off and felt how heavy it was,” he says. “I grabbed it and my wife cut it — couldn’t do it by myself, it took two of us.” Weighing in at 45 kilograms, it is the heaviest jackfruit that Brighton has ever grown on his tropical fruit farm, located