The Bloody Hand was the 2002 debut album from this amazing Canadian band, but having been released on a tiny Canadian indie label, it might've been missed by many of us south of the 49th parallel. Now we have no excuse because it's just been released domestically by our Bay Area pals Absolutely Kosher Records. Not only is it a bit cheaper than the import was, but it comes with SEVEN previously unreleased songs (psst, they're actually songs from Seagull Is On The Rise, the never-issued second album of Mercer and bandmate Michael Rak's former band The Blue Pine).
Much like the likeminded eccentric art rockers Xiu Xiu, this band from Victoria, BC does draw rather emphatic love and hate responses. For some the over the top melodramatic hystrionics of frontman Carey Mercer can be a bit wearing and off-putting, but for others it's just the cathartic ticket needed! Allan and Cup here give it the thumbs up, and say that 'specially if you liked any of their other albums, you need this.
For this Frog Eyes review please allow us to compare it to another Canadian's current release, Rufus Wainwright's Want Two. Both are certainly high on theatrics, however whereas the latter presents the artist as a refined, elegant prince-ly figure, from the first note The Folded Palm suggests Frog Eyes' lead vocalist Casey Mercer as more of a mad court jester. Untethered, twitchy and frantic, but melody and eloquence coexist with the madness. The seventh song "The Heart That Felt Its Light" actually made Cup imagine a cross between Interpol and U.S. Maple! All in all, it's more of the weird pop wonderousness from Carey and co. that we've grown to love, utilizing his unique vocal stylings to maximum effect. Like Captain Beefheart or Bjork, Carey's vocals are a love 'em or hate 'em proposition, and are a significant part of Frog Eyes appeal (or otherwise). We think he's brilliant, and recommend this and all other Frog Eyes albums to the adventurous indie-rock listener.
Hailing from the same city that popped out Hot Hot Heat, Frog Eyes bring forth an altogether different sound from their Victoria, BC brethren. Imagine a baroque hybrid of the Brit-inflected melodrama of Interpol or Pulp and the more dissonant, hand-wringing instabilities of Xiu Xiu. Very high on moody affectation with the focus squarely on the vocals. In addition to the deeply emotional croon and warble of those mentioned above, singer Carey Mercer may also draw comparisons to Tom Waits' hoarsely heart-baring delivery or the slightly smoother sandpaper swoon of Psychedelic Furs' Richard Butler. Lyrics and song titles are somewhat cryptic, obtuse and strangely poetic. The backdrop: electric guitar string churns and howls, shimmery cymbal washes, all anchored by some velvety piano melodies. FYI: More evidence of the Vancouver/Victoria music scene being quite a mighty tight knit family? Neko Case's Corn Sister co-hort Carolyn Mark lent her lovely voice to three songs (check out the luminous fifth song "A Latex Ice Age"), and Ms Mark's bandmate Tolan McNeil engineered the proceedings. Recommended.
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Another much anticipated Homstead re-issue from 1989, this is one of Andee's favorite albums of all time (unfortunately, sez Allan). So un-PC it's unbelievable. Source of the 'that was a good drum break' sample from Beck's song. A band who's high profile stems from their ridiculously high profile tours with the Smashing Pumpkins and Pearl Jam, their bizarre antics (performing in blackface on Lollapalooza!) and their questionable politics (couched in supposed insanity/innocence) clouds the fact that they make some of the most wholly original and catchy, lush lo-fi pop. Ever. Almost entirely improvised in the studio, the Frogs create mini(mal) epics of love; locker room romance, auto accident lust, incest, pedophilia, man on man, woman on woman, man on 3 month old baby boy. Are the Frogs (two brothers, by the way) gay? Are they having sex with each other? Are they homophobic? Are they mentally ill? Are they pop music geniuses? Are they just annoying and dumb (a co-worker's assessment)? Does it really matter? Probably.
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This is a tough one to describe. If you hate the Frogs already, stop right here, this record will not change your mind. In fact, it might even stoke the fires of your Frogs-hatred. But, musically, this is easily the best Frogs record. And I imagine some of you are scoffing, 'no mean feat, huh?' But their second, and best record, "It's Only Right and Natural", was a brilliant and catchy, completely improvised in the studio, folk pop masterpiece. Not only that, their queer obsessed, absurdist lyrics, had everyone asking, "Are they gay?" and/or, "Are they homophobic?", and especially, "Are they insane?" You either loved them and thought their peurile and juvenile humor was drop dead funny, or you hated them and were probably offended. Well.....
This is the legendary "Racially Yours" record, a record so steeped in controversy, that it is only now being released after 10 years. Although like past Frogs efforts, I'm not so sure the controversy is entirely justified. Musically, this record is amazingly lush and complex (for being recorded on a 4-track), bizarre arrangements, swirling organs, rollicking guitars, keening vocals and melodies that stick in your head like glue. But it's the lyrics...
This is the Frogs' labor of love, a record they worked on for years, a skewed but bizarrely passionate look at slavery and race relations in the United States. While "It's Only Right and Natural" their 'gay' record, was kind of silly and irreverent (which is what convinced people they were homophobes), "Racially Yours" is definitely an indictment of racism, with the Frogs frontman, singing from different perspectives: a slave, a slave trader, a paranoid racist, and so on. And the lyrics, paired with the amazing music, often results in some really intense moments. Now, I'm sure people will cry foul, since the Frogs' irreverence and lyrical absurdity are still present (and that is of course, unwelcome in any discussion of subjects this volatile). So if you like the Frogs, you will love this record, if you don't like the Frogs, and this all sounds like a recipe for pissing you off, you should definitely pass.
Uhh, meet the kinder, gentler Frogs. Someone must've washed their mouths out with industrial strength soap. I spent my first listen waiting for the pottymouth to start, but it never did (except for maybe a very brief moment or two, I mean, there's a great
Classic Heldon guitar sound, rife with Frippisms, joined with Frohmader's heavy synthetic processing and electro rhythms. Almost like a drum n' bass "No Pussyfooting"?
You would think a move to emo label Vagrant would temper the metal in FATA's metalcore, and it actually has, quite a bit. But fear not, the serpentine dual guitar harmonies, the downtuned half time chugging, the blazing double kick drums and the ultra-complex stop/start dynamics are still present and accounted for, but the production is WAY less metal, and the emo/clean singing parts are even MORE emo and happen WAY MORE often, which, if you know anything about the emo tolerance around here, is not necessarily a bad thing. And let's face it, FATA were pretty wussy/emo to begin with, which is part of the reson we dug them so much. The ultimate hybrid of brutal death metal and sweet whine-y boy pop. Well, they still embody that hybrid, but the scales are definitely leaning dramatically in the UNheavy direction. In fact this is less a metalcore record with melodic bits, and more an actual pop record but with metal bits. Like the Get Up Kids mixed with Coalesce or Sunny Day Real Estate with Slayer choruses. There's even one track that features drum machine, acoustic guitar and full on female vocals. Wow. But all that said, this is a pretty cool, pretty weird emo-pop record, where the 'loud' parts are actually full on METAL. And if you're anything like me that sounds pretty damn good.
There's been lots of talk about heartbreak around these parts, and the best break up records, and that sort of thing. Windy thinks the new Built To Spill record is the perfect break up record, all bittersweet and caustic, but light and hopeful at the same time.
Sweet tooth alert! Here's the most recent album from the more than appropriately named From Bubblegum To Sky (aka Texan one man band Mario Hernandez formerly of Ciao Bella). Yes, bubblegum pop for everyone! Incredibly sunshiny, Saturday morning cartoon-y tunes with lots of du-wop-du-wops sung in high kiddie vocals a la Apples In Stereo. Okay, maybe this isn't for everyone but it sure is for fans of all things cute and perky.
From Quagmire performs their avant-folk improvisations with the same restraint and quietness as Tower Recordings, yet produce their recordings with a great deal more clarity. From Quagmire is a trio from Virginia, featuring members of the damaged rock ensemble Rake. Their songs are loosely based around the Jandekian plucks of a nylon-strung acoustic guitar and the hushed vocals
Dubby post-rock from Chicago, for folks who love the likes of Him and Tortoise. Packaged in a very lovely black red and silver swing-out cardboard wallet-type apparatus.
Not as celebrated as some Chicago post-rock bands, but better than most, that's Frontier and this is their latest, a remix album of sorts in which studio fragments/samples (found as bonus locked grooves on the vinyl version!) were given to a bunch of folks who've created a disc of motorik loops and synth bursts...at times recalling the work of Spacemen 3, at others Jim O'Rourke. One of the best tracks starts with a delightfully distorted Bill Clinton speech, before giving way to beats and drone.
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We thought this was supposed to be dubby Chicago post-rock but it actually sounds like a nature recording, lots of drones and nighttime sounds. Beautiful and unsettling.
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Listenin' to Edith Frost's latest full length It's A Game sorta makes you wish she was your older sister, and a totally right-on one at that! Y'know, one you'd truly look up to with lots of stories to tell and frocks to share. Kind, patient, wise and warm... she and Olympia, WA's indie pop gal Lois seem like kindred spirits. Frost's voice is a comfort to hear, and her slightly folksy pop songs so uncomplicated and soothing. She just keeps getting better and better!
Lovely single from AQ-fave Miss Frost. Beautiful and heartfelt, maybe like a less-neurotic Cat Power. Backed up by most of the Coctails (R.I.P.)!
Second and most ambitious full-length from this talented singer/songwriter.
On this her third full length, Edith Frost's wonderful songwriting is in full bloom. Lush instrumentation provides the back drop to her sleepily melancholic melodies. Soft shades of country. Strangely her vocals edge a bit towards those of Liz Phair, but that
Before Olivia Tremor Control, there was the Frosted Ambassador, making experimental, stumbling psyche-folk.
When we first heard about Frozen Cloak, the way they were described to us, was: some of the guys from Reeks And The Wrecks doing black metal! WOAH! We knew we had to hear that. Well, we finally did, and guess what? That description was pretty much entirely NOT accurate, but the good news was, that the actual sound ended up being way more weird and warped and super cool.
Frozen Cloak are definitely buzzy, and dark, and heavy, but in some ways the sound's not all that removed from the weird and wonderful world of the Reeks. The guitars (two of em) are WAY blown out, thick and crunchy and dripping with buzz, the opening track takes that guitar and some cool chaotic drumming and locks it into a sort of loop, repetitive and circular and hypnotic and a bit like a heavier, buzzier Lungfish, a single glorious groovy riff, pounded out, over and over and over, a little bit doomy, definitely stonery, but lurching and groovy and metallic. The song after that is way more out there and abstract, the guitar reverbed and heavily effected, distortion so thick it's crumbling out of the speakers, murky, lo-fi, on the verge of collapsing into a total black hole, a sort of blackened folk flecked downtuned free drone freakout, but shot through with warbly melodies and buried rhythms, the record sort of balances between those two extremes, fuzzy, buzzy, repetitive metallic hypnorock groove, and woozy warped abstract chaotic free for all, the best moments of course being when the two collide.
There are horns too, that add a whole 'nother element, a completely different kind of buzz and drone, all tangled up with the already blurred buzz and stutter of the guitars and drums, the sound is really tough to describe, wish we could make sound samples, but you can check out their MySpace. Regardless, this is most definitely some gloriously off kilter outsider abstract heaviness, groovy and a little bit metal, super hypnotic and so fucking good. And anyone who loved the Reeks And The Wrecks will probably end up digging this bigtime too.
Pressed on milky clear vinyl, shot through here and there with little tendrils of color, housed in a thick full color jacked, with super cool images and very little actual info. WAY RECOMMENDED!
Members of the fairly interchangeable bands Califone, Red Red Meat, and Loftus along with a person or persons from Boxhead Ensemble. Described as "Gram Parsons meets Pavement" and I'd certainly agree with that. Light, unassuming indie twang.
Former members of AQ faves Califone and Orso prove the apple doesn't fall very far from the tree with their debut album Mouthfuls. Not nearly as experimental as either of their previous outfits, the Fruit Bats play a catchy, jangly, sweet and melancholy, rootsy sort of indie folk. Great harmonies and plenty of hooks. Sweet and easy and good for you ears. Fans of Calexico, Califone, the Shins, Modest Mouse and the like will dig this like crazy.
MPEG Download: "Rainbow Sign" [/audio/fruitbatsrainbow.mp3]
MPEG Stream: "Rainbow Sign" [/audio/fruitbatsrainbow.m3u]
While the last two Fruit Bats records were fairly pleasant slabs of folk flecked indie rock jangle, Spelled In Bones shows the band taking HUGE strides towards a bigger sound and better songs and a much more expansive sonic world. Described in almost every review as "the Shins meet Califone", The Fruit Bats have now managed to become more than that, definitely their own band, although the sonic referents to those two outfits certainly can't be ignored. Vocalist Eric Johnson's voice is eerily similar to the Shins' James Mercer, but where Mercer's vocals tend toward the ebullient and poptastically bombastic, the music following suit, Johnson tends toward the more melancholy occasionally slipping into a perfectly lovely falsetto, all over delicate piano and strummed minor key guitar, the jangle muted and subtle, with lap steel filigree giving the proceedings a lush, countrified feel. Spelled In Bones is modern yet completely classic sounding Pop with a capital P, draped with bits of country here and there, little bits of bedroom folk too, but all contributing to the record's perfect popiness. Songs so lilting and hooky you won't be able to get them out of your head. The sound of the Beatles is everywhere on this record for sure, but so is the sound of the Posies, the Wings, Iron And Wine, Broken Social Scene, Red Red Meat, Death Cab For Cutie, and yeah, even the Shins and Modest Mouse. So so good.
These guys are tough to pin down, in the past they've been described as "Gram Parsons meets Pavement" or "The Shins meets Califone", both applicable to the albums they were describing, we were of course first interested in these guys because of their pedigree, featuring as they do members of long time faves like Califone, Red Red Meat and Loftus, and their sound tended to feel like an extension of all those bands that came before.
As they've progressed, they've gotten more and more lush and sprawling, their sound still identifiable by the above shorthand comparisons, but more and more distinctly the Fruit Bats. The vocals are clear and crystalline, reminding us of Death Cab and the Shins, the music though remains rooted in country, plenty of jangle, little curlicues of twang, smooth slippery slide, but also infused with plenty of vintage pop as well, the sound a strange hybrid of old time bluegrass, modern downer country, classic FM radio pop (we're hearing Supertramp a bit on the title track!) and hushed minimal folk. Some songs are delicate and quiet and heartfelt, others are playful and rambunctious, frontman Eric Johnson has such a stunning voice, haunting and intense, delicate but still powerful, and the songwriting is classic sounding, plenty of nods to the Wings, Emmit Rhodes, Nick Drake, the Beatles (of course), the Jayhawks... Fantastic classic sounding ultra lush countrified pop! The Ruminant Band, just like with Spelled In Bones, the last FB record, has us once again trying to figure out why these guys aren't WAY more popular than they are!
Latest chunk of quirky twang flecked pop from this band whose lineage includes loads of long time aQ faves including the late great Red Red Meat. And while that lineage does show itself in Fruit Bats' country folk leanings, they really are much more of a pop band, and seem to be getting poppier with every release, the sort of pop though that few bands seem to make anymore, heartfelt classic old time pop, lush arrangements, subtle orchestrations, swirling strings, soaring vocals, gorgeous harmonies, tinkling chimes, buzzing steel string guitars, swirling synths, and frontman Eric Johnson has one of THOSE voices, delicate, but strangely powerful, high and keening, often compared to Gram Parsons, which is perfect for the constantly shifting, ever lush popscapes that make up the bulk of this record. Fans of popgroops like the Shins and Death Cab, will find much to love here, but we like to think Johnson and Co. are just a tad too far out for the masses, which is really the only thing that explains their lack of mainstream popularity, cuz to these ears, while the sound and songs here do bear the hallmarks of many, more popular and commercially successful groups, the devil is in the details, and the details here are what make this way more subtly twisted that your average pop record. Yet another incredible album, by a group who seems to be incapable of making a bad one...
Super swank diecut packaging, the front cover with a big pyramid shaped cutout revealing the artwork from the inner sleeve, while on the back cover there's a much smaller triangular cutout, revealing another little glimpse of the artwork inside.
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Probably best known either as the Red Hot Chili Peppers guitarist that didn't die, or the one that disappeared mid tour and didn't surface again for months, Frusciante also makes records by himself, and has a pretty healthy collection of songs that have managed to go mostly unnoticed. While this is not the best of his three records, it's still pretty cool. Lo fi home recorded simple pop songs, with drum machines and gravelly heartfelt vocals. His first two records were full of keening, barely in tune vocals, and erratic instrumentation and seemed kind of unfinished, which was part of their charm. This record seems more mature, a little more assured, and definitely more 'commercial'. Which may not be such a good thing, but it's not such a bad thing either.
Another amazing batch of dreamy psych-folk unearthed from the dregs of obscurity by the Sunbeam label, this lone album by Mark Fry from 1972, recorded while still a teenager, has it all. Songs about witches, a girl named Alice, lutes and flutes and mandolins, sitars, a song that unravels each verse between other songs, and even a song played entirely backwards. With a soft voice similar to Roger Rodier, whose lone album was also reissued on Sunbeam (which we also raved about!), we had only heard of Mark Fry previously through his contribution (a sadly truncated three minute version of the eight minute long "Mandolin Man") to the British edition of the Love Peace and Poetry psych compilation. Recorded in Rome and only limitedly released in Italy, it soon faded into the ether, and Fry turned to his other love, painting, in which he has had a more successful career. This reissue features two additional bonus tracks from 1975, and boasts liner notes from Fry himself telling the fascinating story of the making of this album, and beyond. Thanks Sunbeam for making this amazing album available to us again! Absolutely Recommended!!
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Local favorites release another album of quirky, deconstructed indie rock filled with emotion. The die cut cd cover is sooooo cool.
Local introspective indierockers Fuck have always been about ghostly songs -- by ghostly I mean filled with melodies that are barely (rather than over-) stated, melodies for which you fill in the odd note here and there that you know is *supposed* to be there but which isn't stated. The band isn't concerned with knocking you over the head with its technical and melodic prowess (though it easily could), Fuck just doesn't feel like being obvious. And therein lies their genius. "Cupid's Cactus" is fifteen songs of hushed gestures, gorgeous guitar, doped out vocals, and expressive silences. It's not as good as their "Baby Loves a Funny Bunny" (now out of print), but it's pretty great anyway. Fans of Calexico will enjoy it.
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Newest Matador signing and local AQ-favorites release another excellent two songs.
24 glorious tracks from SF's favorite hushed indie rock combo, who've recorded for Matador and Smells Like. Their magic is heavily evident here, on this album of rarities, singles tracks and live stuff. Fuck are restrained yet shambolic and melodic yet
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With the lovely packaging you've come to expect from San Francisco's Fuck, their first cd is a pleasure to hear. 9 songs, including 2 of the best from their pair of self-released singles.
SF's Fuck have returned with their long-awaited new full length. Actually Italy got an advance peek at these 'Bongos as it was previously released last year on the Italian label Homesleep. Fortunately Future Farmer have kindly scooped it up for domestic release. Our introductory spin was a rather befuddling one (of course Fuck are well-known for being a puzzlin' eccentric combo, but this seems even more so that usual). We're not quite sure yet what to think of the album title nor the first song "Motherfuckeroos" nor the next song's lyrics about a hairy chest. After all of that weirdness things settle into a slightly more stable but still characteristically quirky and meandering folksy path. At times, quite akin to the more barebones moments of Badly Drawn Boy.
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I'm embarrassed to say it took a few months for me to realize the brilliance of this album, but better late blah blah blah... This is stark and understated pop, nothing sweet about it, quiet and intense. Unpredictable in the best ways, like a song will be building up up up to a soft climax, only to have the bass stop at crucial moment -- it's that kind of beauty. Definitely for fans of Palace and early Pavement, I cannot recommend them, one of SF's best local bands, more highly. Packaged in a (pre-June of 44) matchbook cover with nice Fuck sticker.
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Get cozy with your biggest most noise-canceling headphones, meticulously cover all windows so that no natural light infiltrates your room, and prepare yourself to be immersed in the overwhelming dystopic soundscape that is the third Fuck Buttons record. It's another unexpected left turn for these Bristol lads, this time into the realms of menacing antihuman electronica. Slow Focus is first and foremost massively hypnotic. More than half the songs surpass the seven minute mark (a couple passing ten), so the tracks are given ample time to really lure you in. There is an unnerving wooziness to much of the record, an almost nauseous sense of vertigo running throughout, like being plugged into some sort of drug pumping super computer or standing on the edge of a very tall building, gazing at the neon lights below. There are massive beats - tribal drums smashing against sci-fi synths, almost like a less sparse S U R V I V E soundtracking a film like Event Horizon (or some other comparable techno-horror epic!). It's a bit like listening to Daft Punk possessed by the devil - sinister and throbbing, but still gets the blood pumping. It's electronic music with serious grit, conjuring images of great shapeless space creatures drifting through a lightless void or immense black stone monoliths rising from the sea. You may hear the chiming of haunting bells colliding with decayed static transmissions from a distant dead star, the throbbing of John Carpenter-esque synths over scattershot drum patters, or what sounds like a cyborg choir accompanied by a chorus of sheet metal being sheered to pieces by velociraptor talons. Elsewhere, a drunken hip-hop beat lurches sweaty and anxious over the decay of buzzing synth drones causing the entire world to move in slow motion. The only reprieve from the menace comes from 10 minute closer "Hidden XS" which is legitimately melodically epic and moving, but all the while maintaining that Blade Runner future noir atmosphere. It's hard to describe this record without getting hyperbolic (clearly!), but that's just because it's so BIG. Simply describing the music doesn't seem to really do it justice. It is much more than the sum of its parts - an album that demands to be experienced. And undoubtedly one of the most cinematic and immersive records of the year.
Fuck Buttons? Please just ignore the name for a moment. We're glad WE did, and actually gave this band a listen... 'cause, fuck if they don't push our buttons. The pleasure ones, big fat buttons labeled massive super distorted heavy electronic drone fuzz pop damage. Really we were surprised, though maybe the colorful cover artwork that kinda makes this look like a Black Dice record should have been an indication that this Bristol UK duo was gonna be cool, despite their name. They're energetically exotic and hypnotically repetitive and just chock full of sheer noise fuzz bliss, bulldozering over buried melodies, tribal weirdness, and equally distorted screaming vocals, though this is mostly an instrumental, rhythmic throb. These six fairly lengthy songs wrap the listener's ears in a multihued steel wool blanket of abrasive warmth, made from such shimmering sonic elements as ambient piano, motorik machine beats, and thick spaced out synth. And just when you think it's already pretty darn fuzzed out, they flip a switch or step on a pedal or something and then the REAL fuzz kicks in.
Definitely for fans of Growing at their most SUNNO)))-y. Also we might say this sounds like Vulture Club doing the vacuuming over at Gang Gang Dance's house, playing Jesu and M83 albums real loud while they do so. A beautiful blend of noise and drone and bright shining eternal pop loveliness...
The very first track, "Sweet Love For Planet Earth" might be our favorite though we're crushed out on the whole album. But this song really sums it up, it IS the album the way the first song on the Mammal's Lonesome Drifter WAS that Mammal album too. This track has got the pretty, ringing piano part to start with, gloriously building up into the choppy fuzzed out throb we soon learn is Fuck Button's modus operandi. Damn this is good -- and there's even vocals amidst this heavenly buzz that sound like they could come off some cvlt black metal album.
So yeah Fuck Buttons, cool band, dunno about the name. Seems like Fuck is the new Super or Jesus or Black, as bandnaming trends go. There's been The Fucking Champs, Fuck I'm Dead, and of course, Fuck. But more recently, bands named Fucked Up, Holy Fuck, and now Fuck Buttons have made the scene... always hilarious when they get popular enough to be played on the radio or mentioned in the mainstream press. Not so hilarious when spam filters prevent AQ list subscribers from getting emails with our reviews. But whatever, we swear a lot ourselves anyway, sorry about that. Anyway, fucking recommended.
