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From theneedledrop.com:

Opening up with the sloppiest guitar solo this side of Westing and Musket, Woods return announcing with Songs of Shame that they are trying to "fight for what its worth." Their fight is worth listening to. Even if you not heard their previous albums, the recent wave of lo-fi musicianship and albums has prepared listeners for impassioned, sloppy songs. That is if you are not put off by the lack of polish; guitars do not reach the notes you'd expect, the vocals are saying something, but the words aren't pushed forward through the mix.

The melodies are hummable and the lyrics, humble. Think of the best pop songs you have heard. These are the same songs, just a little red eye-sounding. "Back into all those things you wished you undo" begins the "The Number," a song hinting at the escapism we look for from "haunting life lessons." Its chorus circles through as a constant reminder, giving the listener the unrest the song suggests. And it ends with tambourine hits, scratching a pop itch I have while listening to this album.

"September with Pete" is a nine-minute jam freaking out the way a freak out should. The band sounds tighter and tighter as the musical ideas slip and spill out into different "wah wah" atmospheres, anchored down in reality with funky bass and raspy snare drums. The guitars sound like lost transmissions from 60's garage rock in the beginning with their interplay, but before you can say "Black Angel's Death Song," they rumble and cover the low end as well as the high. This is a band that knows how to satisfy a listener's experience.

Woods pays homage to one of the "hippie" forefathers with a cover of Graham Nash's "Military Madness." While making me wonder what if Elliott Smith covered this song..., it's a nice nod to the psychedelic past, fitting in with the rest of Wood's carefree restlessness. While Jeremy Earl's vocal stylings may resemble a cat to a naysayer, he sounds like a jaded daydreamer in this song.

"Where and what you are" is a hell of an album closer and a brief wrap-up of another solid album from this fun band. While this song may be only a minute long, sometimes the best treats are brief.

-Article by Brian Rowe

From theneedledrop.com:

Oregon's Starfucker is electropop without shame or second guesses, and that's the way it should be. Because when you're sporting track titles like "Biggie Smalls" and "Dance Face 2000," there's no room for caring what people think--just room on the dance floor.

Jupiter is the band's sophomore album, and it's a sign of growth, for sure. With thick synths and some strong sentiments for mid-tempo drum beats, Starfucker's fanaticism for 80s new wave is clear as day. Let's also mention the cover of "Girls Just Want To Have Fun"; a version that really brings out the parent/daughter struggle hidden in the song's verses.

Songs like Jupiter's title track will bring about fantasies of being able to breakdance, while "Boy Toy" begs the question of how much Dan Deacon the band has listened to. "Dance Face 2000" sounds like the lost cousin to a Crystal Castles track, but there's probably no relation. The short of it: For an album that only houses eight tracks, it manages to touch down on quite a few dancepop denominations.

Starfucker's one major flaw is they're a little tongue-in-cheek; however, the tongue and the cheek probably aren't coming from the same person. If dance beats and an aloof, carefree attitude are what you're looking for, there's no reason to search the galaxy beyond Starfucker's Jupiter.

-Article by Anthony Fantano

From theneedledrop.com:

When it comes to treating pop like an art form, The Shivers take more than enough hints from the masters. "Just Didn't Need To Know" opens this LP with the fragility of the Velvet Underground's "Heroin," and it's about something just as addictive: tainted love.

A stunning start to this album, but it's no hint of what's to come. The Shivers never stay true to one style of pop, passing by each one as if they're rounding bases and never looking back. It's like each song is a role in an unlikely cast of characters: "Insane" plays a spotlight of somber country balladry, and "Only In It for the $$$" is a female-fronted, college radio-ready shot of new wave. "Diamonds" drones on into pop ambience, "Warm In the Morning" just woke up from a drug-fueled night on the town, and "Cheree" is really looking to get laid. "Silence"--with the exception of some light hiss--is just what it claims to be--the song's length of nine minutes and eleven seconds probably isn't a coincidence, either.

How this island of misfit songs doesn't fall into chaos is anyone's guess, but everything just seems to work out in the end. Though it's nowhere near cohesive, In the Morning has its bright spots. Some are more so than others, but the Shivers probably knew that would be the case getting into this "releasing an album" thing.

-Article by Anthony Fantano

From theneedledrop.com:

Bill Callahan is a man of many words; many, many words. And if lyrics are your game, this guy may just be your knight in shining armor.

Sometimes I Wish We Were An Eagle is Bill's second full-length, but don't mistake this as his sophomore record. Under the name Smog, Bill's discography spans back to the early nineties. His music has evolved and evolved again since, almost to the point where his earliest work sounds completely alien. And now that he's pursuing this narrative style that's a little bit country and a little bit rock 'n' roll, it's understandable that he'd distance himself from the Smog brand a bit.

So, like a Nick Cave who's less eccentric or a Silver Jews with less quirk, Callahan assembled Sometimes to be a colorful tapestry of stories and ideas. People who produce books on tape could take a few hints from Bill. Stories are way cooler when they're set to music and have a few hooks to keep things catchy. They soundtrack movies, why not books on tape? And speaking of audio books, Bill's voice would lead you to believe he's recorded a few in his day. His hummable baritone will get you throwing this record on a pair of headphones, cuddling up with a pillow, and pretending he's whispering sweet nothings into your ears.

The music on this LP is illustriously produced with string sections and other arrangements, but it still takes a backseat to the vocals. Bill's sleepy stories would be nothing without a backing band, but they still float above the heavy, ringing bass guitar and delicate stringwork.

Sometimes is a show of Bill's appreciation of time, space, and drama. He's grown into this sensibility over the years, and nowhere is it stronger than on this album. For something with nothing to see, it's absolutely cinematic.

-Article by Anthony Fantano

From theneedledrop.com:

Shogun Kunitoki is a quartet from Finland whose stated mission is to humanize electronic music. Their tools: thick, buttery organs; modulators ringing to high, they're barely audible to human ears; and oscillators doing whatever oscillators do.

Shogun's efforts to put a heart in the chest of electronic music have paid off, because Vinonaamakasio is an elite, cyborg killing machine. This LP is the band's Terminator 2, basically.

From start to finish, Vinonaamakasio has the live and fevered feel of jazz fusion. Its linear approach builds each song up until it crashes into oblivion, and brings one song into another without stopping. In the moment decisions and improvisations make up a large part of this album, but there's still a cold, precise delivery that can't be ignored. Because even in their most freewheeling moments, Shogun doesn't miss a beat. Everything is measured evenly and efficiently. There's something very Kraftwerk about it, but Shogun stops short of embracing their icy circutry.

Vinonaamakasio grows on you, with you, and in you. There's no sweet hook or obvious ploys to grab your attention. It's an album that takes shape after multiple listens, because there's so much to hear. Shogun has undoubtedly explored every possible timbre they could in this psychedelic organ odyssey, and showed us electronic music's rudiments in the process.

-Article by Anthony Fantano

From theneedledrop.com:

On his latest record, Papercuts' Jason Robert Quever promises something: we can have what we want. And the truth is it feels like Christmas, because this record has given me exactly what I've been asking for. Listening to this record in '09 is like unwrapping a Nintendo 64 in '96. It's the coolest thing out there, and all the neighbohood kids are gonna be asking to come over--even that ones that didn't like you before.

On this album, Quever has just woke up from a severe dreampop hangover, and he's sharing it with everyone in earshot; but that's not saying much since You Can Have What You Want is pretty quiet and unintrusive. "Earshot" for Papercuts is close. Sometimes, it's a nice conversational distance, other times, it's right up against your ear. This record isn't for people with personal space issues.

Whether it's the first track or the last track, you can guarantee the vocals will be drenched in reverb; the bass lines will thud along though 60s pop modes; and the organ will steal the show. It's a distinct sound the 'Cuts know how to use, so stand back.

This record can be schmaltzy and this record can be dismal, too. Whether You Can Have What You Want is pulling you up or bringing you down, it's an undeniably timeless set of songs. It's pop with no filler, no disappointments, and no false promises. We can have what we want, finally.

-Article by Anthony Fantano

From theneedledrop.com:

Cymbals Eat Guitars because rock is an essential source of minerals. For those who need minerals or a kick start to the heart, Why There Are Mountains is the album. At first listen, it reminded me of high school where I soaked up hours of music, learning riffs head against the speaker; thinking The Pixies, Built to Spill, and David Bowie came from other planets to illuminate my little life. Years later, the music I purchased at music stores is now on everyone iPods, being shuffled into random order and barely listened to. Years later, I find myself timid in the world of the internet and young upstart bands that score a million MySpace hits, and months later, fill a Google-cached graveyard. Although this relatively new New York Band is young, I doubt we will see them in that graveyard soon.

By New York band, I don't mean skinny leather jeans and retro fitted for the discotheque. I bring up high school because it sounds like that time period of my life where friends introduced one another to Built to Spill, Modest Mouse, Pavement etc., after a formal initiating question of trust: You like "the Blue Album"? This album bears resemblance to the musicality of those Northwestern bands, but the voice and lyrics belong to a young, not-so-jaded dude. Listen to the upbeat "Summerteeth"-like, "Indiana". Starting out in the murk of keyboards and feedback, building into a rollicking piano, acoustic rave-up about "American hazy scene", closing your eyes and seeing "cellar stairways", and well, I can't figure out the song's subject; the lyrics push and pull together in fits, but the song is cool!

And speaking of cool, I'm sure "Living North" is about hating on cooler people. Sincerity and cigarettes often go hand in hand. And like most lyrics on the album, the words disappear under the music. It's okay, guys, I'm listening. You can tell me anything. "Living North" is one of those wave your fist (or credit card) in the fucking air reckless rockers, with show off guitars daring you not to move. On further listens you will pick out words like "New Jersey," "sleepy heads," and "dark priests."

Despite the indistinguishable lyrics of the album, Cymbals Eat Guitars have a helluva opener. It's the song that took me back to the early aughts, those hazy days of high school. Rock was pure. Life was sort of simple. This is one of those songs I would sing along silently with on the bus because its epic and touches upon the blueprints of The Pixies. Shouting! Cool wordless background vocals! Toy piano! Don't you want to drum in the air to this thing?! Go ahead try it, it feels good, it's a workout for your soul. The song meanders talking about the "GWB" and buildings, slows down, and jumps alive. Again and again!

Why There Are Mountains is a nice wake up for the year. It's a call to arms, and a reminder to untame oneself. "Like Blood Does," the closing epic, is a last chance to scream and shout. It's what rocking is all about. Sure, crazy Beach Boy vocal harmonies and stoney lo-fi is neat and all; but there is something else to rocking. It's about soaking what you like and spitting it out, in "adolescent summoning rituals." The album's influences are obvious, but if this is the Bad News Bear of the year, I'm sitting in the stands and cheering.

-Article by Brian Rowe

From theneedledrop.com:

Last year, singer/songwriter/cool guy Stephen McBean blew my little, prog-loving mind with a new album from Black Mountain. The band's embrace of Floyd and Tull was a little unexpected, and the latest LP from McBean's other mountainous side project--Pink Mountaintops--is outta left-field, too.

With Outside Love, McBean pulls his experimental pop past all the lo-fi murk that housed it on previous albums, and gives the music a studio finish. Pink Mountaintops doesn't stray too far from its base, though. There are a couple to-be-expected drum machine ballads, pushing forward with distorted guitars and forced vocals; it's a sound that doesn't usually get me all hot and bothered, but the programmed percussion gives "The Gayest Of Sunbeams" and "Execution" the feel of New Order gone folk. It works better in practice than on paper.

Outside Love's pristine sound gives Pink Mountaintops' usual antics a new dynamic, but the real surprises come in the 'tops softest moments. The echoed strings, sparse drums, and group vocals on "Vampire" may make it one of the most well-produced songs of the year. A solemn country waltz is on tap, too, with "And I Thank You". It's a track that starts smaller than expected, but ends up larger than life; look for it in your local jukebox. When McBean isn't using volume, he's coming up with ideas, and I'd be lying to myself if I didn't say he's better off with the latter.

Like Most Pink Mountaintops albums, Outside Love doesn't say in one spot for very long. Inconsistency doesn't sound like something an album should brag about, but the juxtaposition of string ballads, gospel gloom, and new wave non-sequiturs keeps things from getting boring and predictable. I'm sure this will turn on any fan of McBean's music--Pink or Black--but it may be something worth showing people who aren't in the know, too.

-Article by Anthony Fantano