Issue#60 [Album Reviews]

Reviews of the latest by Apples in Stereo, Felix Da Housecat, Hope Sandoval, Magenta Lane, No Age, The Pains of Being Pure at Heart and You Say Party! We Say Die!

Apples in Stereo
#1 Hits Explosion
Yep Roc
I have always had a bit of a problem with bands releasing hit compilations too early (“too early” in my mind being anything less than two years after a band stops making music). This, combined with the fact that Apples in Stereo never really had any hits per se and have always been more of an album band, leaves me with the sense of having listened to an album without continuity, or at least I would have if Apples in Stereo’s whole career weren’t so continuous. Reviewing an Apples in Stereo retrospective while the Beatles are re-releasing their catalogue is sort of like going to a Ben Johnson play on the opening day of Macbeth. Even so, one cannot help but feel the fun and energy coming off these songs. Simple lyrics and simple melodies are what they are and what they are is infectious, and just like H1N1 you can count on it being more effective on the young while those born before 1957 have immunity. I wanted to say that #1 Hits Explosion sounded more like 16 Split Decisions but the album ended up being too fun for such a dismissive witticism.
Bix Brecht

Felix Da Housecat
He Was King
Nettwerk
Felix Da Housecat is going to be the only one to survive the eventual nuclear attack on electro DJ/producers. Mostly because he understands how absolutely hilarious the nightlife is, and how it’s ridiculous when those conducting the festivities believe that laptop-made, bloggable remixes are going to be remembered for more than one second’s worth of meta-culture. Our man Felix DJs perfectly and produces even more professionally than his buddy Diddy, but he does so with a charming smirk as evidenced by the sardonic titles on his new record like “Spank U Very Much,” “LA Ravers” and the track “Kickdrum” which consists of a deep 808 beat with looped lyrics exclaiming “Big Fat Kickdrum/Makes You Wanna Get Some.” The record’s highlight may be Felix himself singing on opener “We All Wanna Be Prince” and doing a pretty decent job of aping the tiny, purple wonder. He Was King can’t compare to his 2001 effort Kittenz and Thee Glitz, but nothing and nobody ever will.
Trevor Risk

The Fugitives
Find Me
Independent
There is always a very special place in my heart for spoken word. Though it has never quite made a proper communion with energetic music, The Fugitives may be the missing link in this unfinished thought. The band steals your ears with their fierce spoken word and toe-tapping melodies. Their brand new recording Find Me is short but packs a powerful punch. Each of their songs coaxes you to sing along, whether you know the lyrics or not. “Breaking Promises” pulls at heartstrings equally all over, while “Blue Belle Lament” sounds like a heartbroken lullaby that is comforting in all the right places. Deep with soul, The Fugitives have tapped into a space that is heavy with emotion, yet without the dragging force of dramatic drawl. Their music sings sweet and bitter of all the ups and downs of life’s offerings. Find Me is the perfect mixture of past tears, dancing toes and eccentric smiles.
Danielle Sipple

Hope Sandoval & the Warm Inventions
Through the Devil Softly
Nettwerk
I have this uncle who worked for Warner Music in New York. He was in finances. Whenever I’d go to visit him he’d have a stack of albums for me to take home. My uncle has good taste in music, even though Warner usually doesn’t, so beneath the take-it-or-leave-it riff raff there would often be a gem. Hope Sandoval’s new album, Through The Devil Softly, is not that gem. It is simply 40-some-odd minutes of take-it-or-leave-it drivel. Just a safe, albeit pretty orchestration of breathy vocals and brush stick drums beats. I mean, if my uncle passed this thing on to me I’d probably let it sit in my collection catching dust, but this is the mp3 age so I’m deleting this elevator soundtrack off my iTunes.
Lindsay Lumber

Magneta Lane
Gambling With God
Last Gang Records
Magneta Lane are an underappreciated all-lady three-piece who write alternative rock songs in the Tee-Dot. Their concise debut album, The Constant Lover, took the independent music scene by surprise. Gambling With God is the band’s third full-length record and it undoubtedly carries on many qualities of their debut in the realm of songwriting. Very cleanly produced, the song “September Came” is the standout track as it features pretty harmonies and lyrics that mention the devil. The case is different with “Love And Greed” in which a megaphone-type chorus gives the impression of not being as awesome lyrically as it is musically… but there is something to be said about Magneta Lane getting away with “I’d get all liquored up and fucking crawl in front of you.” If you still listen to The Strokes (or wish you remembered to), this is something worth gambling on.
Stefana Fratila

No Age
Losing Feeling
Sub Pop
I think No Age is probably going to have a good year and be even more prominent then they were after Nouns. Or during that period when everyone was talking about some club in LA called The Smell and the bands who had played there but who most people have kind of forgotten about now, even though it seemed like some sort of movement or zenith just last year. This EP is good. I like when a band can make four songs sound like a fully realized idea. I think maybe four songs under fifteen minutes is the best length for a piece of recorded musical output. I think in the wake of this EP you’re probably going to hear about No Age’s “new sound,” which is going to mean “tremello + reverb + melody” instead of, or in conjunction with, “fuzz.” Which is good, because I think by the time the winter hits, lo-fi backlash is going to be in full effect (if it’s not already) and No Age will hopefully come to exemplify how to successfully transition into the cleaner, soberer years of the second decade of the 2000s.
Rich Bucks

The Pains of Being Pure
At Heart Higher Than The Stars
Slumberland
The Pains of Being Pure At Heart sound like early My Bloody Valentine; we know this already. Pleasantly enough though, instead of mirroring the careers of the inventors of loud and letting the morphine drip take over as the main instrument on their next effort, Pains have decided to not only jangle, but thud, soar, and play their instruments like they mean it. The title track of this half-album will prove to be a jewel in the crown of these Brooklynites (Brooklynians? Brooknadians?) mostly due to the relatable refrain of “In The Back Of Your Mother’s Car” and the other songs (like on their self-titled debut) that don’t miss either. For dessert we’re treated to a remix treatment of “Higher Than The Stars” by long-forgotten UK indie dance outfit Saint Etienne, which admittedly sounds better on paper than speakers, but at its very least reminds us to put on Foxbase Alpha and maybe flip through a copy of Select. The Pains of Being Pure At Heart are making everyone else look lazy and stupid.
Trevor Risk

You Say Party! We Say Die!
XXXX
Paper Bag
XXXX is just fourletters and the title of You Say Party! We Say Die!’s third full-length album. XXXX is also a placeholder for some mystery word. Could be it’s a place holder for the listener saying “Oh XXXX!” YSP!WSD! has really smoothed down the rough edges of their previous recordings with the help of producer Howard Redekopp (The New Pornographers, Tegan & Sara) without sacrificing any of the energy. In fact they polish off all the sharp spikes that were hurting their previous records and what is left is a glossy surface with satisfying peaks and valleys. Not that they have strayed so far from their roots that you can’t tell where they are coming from. It’s just the opposite: the production quality here only clarifies things like Becky Ninkovic’s vocal talents and Krista Loewen’s keyboards, which only broaden the scope of the songs. I think that maybe they could have gotten away with calling this album Love; I‘m pretty in love with it…. It’s too bad the Beatles and Cirque beat them to it….
Troy Sebastian Alden