2016 pt. 6

Amon Amarth - Jomsviking

Yep, it's got all dem viking-lyfe-metal platitudes: us vs. them outlook, summoning inner strength, brutal battles, harrowing weather, raising horns+pouring beers for fallen freebooters, fulfilling destinies on seas of blood, etc. Then halfway through they dare to break out "The Way of Vikings" as if that wasn't already their ingrained band motto to begin with. But they wear their vet-status for this disposition loud-n-proud -- performances, though perhaps a bit recycled, are reliable and heavy and galloping round-the-clock; impressively decipherable growls are on point and allow for a welcoming coherence+precise depictions of injurious actions and various weaponry, they don big choruses and love to exude triumph but don't plunge into Cornville or shy away from piano-plinking amid tributary balladry. Notable/novel moment comes during "A Dream That Cannot Be", a guy-gal back-n-forth of bad-assery between Johan Heg and Doro Pesch that works way better than it probably should. Not-so-long story short, haughty-n-macho rescue is attempted and met with rejection and independence, then he goes for the forceful grab, and, well: "I pull the knife I've concealed / I put the edge to his throat". You go, girl. 7/10

The Body - No One Deserves Happiness

*******HIGHEST RECS*******

///BRAV-FUCKING-O\\\

Call me a sucker for the juxtaposition of the beauty and the beast, call this the explosive execution of such a thing: the most apparent attribute being the guy+gal vox-ers; or rather, the perpetually incomprehensible tortured mutant screamer+halcyon-n-mighty possessed-at-church hardened women who can crank it up a notch-or-three if needed. Then there's the perdurable pummeling of impossibly mammoth sludge and deep-n-dense din-layers and industria-tronix threatening to engulf your entirety, spawning an aura of terror so towering and torrid that it enraptures and induces awe rather than sending ya runnin' for the hills. Dispositional sum-up steamily/plainly stated whilst comparing contrastable parents and the derived traits of their kid: "You wondered how, being so different, they could've formed a union", "a mixture of the violence of the one and the gentleness of the other". Personally, being a mere 90 miles away from these heathens is both edifying and alarming -- and as long as they keep dishing it out like my father, I'll gladly take it like my mother. 9/10

DJ Katapila - Trotro (re-issue of 2009 album)

///BRAV-FUCKING-O\\\

Ghanian DJ who employs Fruity Loops and a bell to create uber-incessant kiddie-toy goofball techno beats, lays down layers of assumably improv/mostly incomprehensible yelp-fests, and even gets his fledgling pitched-up daughter in on the vocalized fun. Stylistically, it can drive ya nuts; and yes, the instrumentals and alternate versions to boot may be excessive, and well, the only discernible words are likely to be the respective song's title or his pre-moth moniker. But it's so amusing+bemusing, so unreasonably upbeat and assertive to the nth degree, so inescapably just havin' a grand ol' time -- so much so that contagious captivation overrides the eventually obnox-as-fuck ingemination. Possessing an affinity for percussion-piles/meager melodies/hurtling lions with the dynamic delivery to match will certainly help when it comes to annihilating exasperation and facilitating tolerance. 7/10

Into It. Over It. - Standards

Intrigued/enervated maestro/multi-instrumentalist Evan Weiss is observant, articulate, tolerably sensitive, collectedly perturbed; hell, downright palsy-walsy. That, along with the charming lil off-kilter guitar hooks and partiality for lithesome drumming, gets 'em by fine without ever necessarily wowing or mesmerizing -- it certainly gets slumberous on the tail-end once the weeping-string "anesthetic" starts coursing its way through your veins, but the fluctuation of peppy punk tunes and levelheaded emo semi-sobbers throughout flows righteously and keeps things compelling. And the convincingly bleak canyon-isms of center-ish-piece "Your Lasting Image", never treading too far over the whine-line, a surprise double-bass incursion; well those are nice too. 6/10

Jealousy - Paid For It

Spry moments are driven by a basal garage-rock bass-line and/or eldritch psych-auras, stagnant moments are corroded by pococurante performances and wretched rambling, the majority of it is far too languid+way too reliant on reverberations+plain ol' lacking in derivable substance. Which is all by design, I'm sure. But to quote 'em: "I don't feel anything at all." ~*~meh~*~

Kerridge - Fatal Light Attraction

The difference between your ol' run-of-the-mill industrialized brazen-faced buzz-work and this is the buzz-work here is markedly high-par -- it still beats up the brain and punishes the psyche but the causticity is brimming with clarity and texture-centric rectitude, its ruthless poundin' and churnin' oft-concocting a techno-esque momentum and its static detonations+wanderings/dead air as extended halts/shrouded mutterings consistently catching the ear. It still gets redundant and whittles you down to nothingness, too, but does so pretty damn kindly and luxuriantly. 6.5/10

Lucius - Good Grief

Wafts of ho-hum melodrama and grandiosity and overdone pep do permeate throughout, but the ones most afflicted are over with rather quickly -- that is, the supposedly-special-someone who she can't describe so just kinda doesn't and all those lofty landscape-ridden fidelities. Personally, I enjoy 'em most when they clinch the preliminary possibility of being driven to madness and writhingly become the ones who are going insane over some clocky tick-tocks. Then comes the bubblegum parade-float of "Born Again Teen", the glitch-lite electro-flourishes+wacky instrument whackin', the yearned-for rain gently comin' 'round after culpability forms from feelin' good and a pause. So right, their traces of emotional realness and adept aspiration towards diversity are bolsters, and also prolly why the sad ballads are as winning as they are. Parting statement: "Everyone's around right now and I'm still alone." In other words, they're not plastic pop quite yet. 6/10

Parquet Courts - Human Performance

With anxiety slightly demoted and speed-punk frenzies progressively perishing, this set of scuzzy-yet-ripe divergencies shuffle forth; showcasing their versatility, upping the song-craft a bit, and standing firm in the face of some sorta semi-composure. I mean, they still oft-sing in the coalescent realm of deadpan/sarcastic/bewildered and stick 'round the garage and throw down "I Was Just Here" and envisage how much dust is actually all up in our grill at any given time, but this is for sure maturation. Which I'll take over the smoke-screen Monastic Living EP any day, but the freak in me does yearn for that ol' furor now and again. O and I'll take the bonus/untraditionally-meditative "Already Dead" as album ender over the standard/somnolent sufficiency of "It's Gonna Happen" any day too, thanx very much. 7/10

Weezer - Weezer (The White Album)

Solely eying titles like "California Kids", "Thank God For Girls", "Do You Wanna Get High?", "Jacked Up" -- hell, kinda all of 'em, really -- may lead to some rash conjectures involving the patented Weezer corn being carted on this here ivory-hued+self-proclaimed glory-dayz recrudescence. With their alt-rooted power-pop pioneer-isms in full and facile effect, a filler-free and to-the-point complexion, and let's face it; just an all 'round wondrous knack for writing songs that are sunny and catchy as fuck and quaint to boot, it don't really matter what they're goin' on about too much. But then again -- the whole contrived-seeming naivete and fantastical puerility and general outmodedness and lotsa questionable lines thing remains quite the polarizing quaint. It's a nice thought, but in 2016 am I to believe "the California Kids" are gonna solve all my woes and take care of lil ol' me? The 'woo's are great, though. Not wince at the "If I was king of the world, you'd be my girl" chorus? I mean, it's very well-meaning, sure. Same well-meaner that tells L.A. Girlz to act their age and sweeten up their lemonade yet frets over leaving his headphones in a car and "trying not to stare at her chest." "L.A. Girlz": hangs with the best of 'em. 6.5/10

Wussy - Forever Sounds

*******HIGHEST RECS*******

In the (admittedly dissipating) sea of shoegazin' guitar-rokk torchbearers, Wussy's flame flickers with remarkable finesse: the he-and-she vocal turn-taking/occasional collabing from axe-slingers Chuck Cleaver and Lisa Walker promptly prompts comparisons to Yo La Tengo/MBV/Sonic Youth/Pixies; but rather than clone it up via flaccid rehash, they seem set on aligning themselves with that almighty legacy -- especially given that this is their churn-out seven albums deep. The symmetry of dense hum+wail+sparkle feedback and fetching tunefulness is frequently superb -- not to propose that it's perfect through-n-through, but you positively get your pick of peaks: weeper-beauties ("Donny's Death Scene", "Better Days"), assertive anthemics ("Gone" "Hello, I'm a Ghost"), and perhaps my claimed fave, earth-stopping majesty that's aptly titled to boot ("Majestic-12"). 7.5/10