museum-line

museum-line

Friday, May 19, 2017

2017 pt. 5

Anohni - Paradise [EP]
Last year's scraps, perhaps -- but I dig the decreased pop-anthem approach and trickier back-n-forth between Oneohtrix Point Never's spacey stark and Hudson Mohawke's harebrained boom-bap. Melodrama and stunted political statements remain, but "you're a mean old man" and "I'm gonna hate you" and presumable earth-crumbling get the point across righteously enough; and whether buried in bass+squeals or conspicuous+quavery or a condignly choked up guest-fretter's queries as conclusion, the voxin' is defiant and haunting. Side Note: fuck transphobic Sputnikers. 7/10


Arca - Arca
///BRAV-FUCKING-O\\\
Compelling to hear how provocative electro mutant Alejandro Ghersi evolves/devolves over time, this one being on-the-cusp imperative no doubt: the self-titled stamp hints at it and the induction of vox alone change the Arca game. That Bjork work stuck with him, seemingly -- not only is there this new transparence of having a bold+tender weeper-composer arise from the shadows, but also a far more restrained/refined/dare I say poppier palette to match. Not to say it ain't still an aimless-n-alien tangle or that weep can't peeve, 'tis and it can. With respect to the new direction, I kinda miss the spastic violence of releases past. May be why I like when he whips out the whips on "Whip"; followed by "DesafĂ­o", the kind of driven pop-transition perfection I wish were more prevalent here. 6/10


Entrance - Book of Changes
Still not sure if Entrance here is supposta imply 'an entryway' or 'to fill with hypnotic delight', but given the instrumental elegance and sparkly softie-psych overlays I'm gonna lean towards the latter. Its adornments transmit a sort of folkie fantasy land and Guy Blakeslee's warble comes off a bit like a less clever+more corny Conor Oberst, complete with seasonal allegories aplenty and quotidian yearn and a cast of breathy dream girls to echo his sentiments and spout 'la-la-la's. But oof can that warblin' and adornin' get tiresome. Which may be why the straight-up rock-out of "Revolution Eyes" is such a rejuvenating ender -- and all he had to do was ditch Cali and find a nice gal to drag him away from the gates of hell. 6/10


Idles - Brutalism
*******HIGHEST RECS*******
Brit punx whose snarly sardonicism predominates enough to make their tude seem tacked on and try-hard. The resultant vigor I'll take, a protracted "motherfucker" hook so simple that it's genius and calling art-haters morons, sure; but their acrimony can be too on the nose and oft fall short of thought-provoking. So they get by on fiery execution, tight catchiness aplenty, and soopin' up the snarl: frontman Joe Talbot can summon both vicious acid-spitting animal and suave Transylvanian count, near-incessantly incensed yet can sing a tune when he tries, is good for a loutish ballad ender. Genuinely funny, even, with the "swing batta batta batta"s and boyish backup "woo!"s for when he bites his nose off. 8/10


Mastodon - Emperor of Sand
*******HIGHEST RECS*******
Those who don't want their sludge getting too catchy or approachable will likely slam it -- the brazenly pop "Show Yourself" is the sorta song that militant metalheads love to hate but secretly hum, a handful more neighbor radio-ready, there's tambourines+shakers. But as a virtuosic heavy/straightforward singalong crossover, I say it's a success and a blast to boot. Mighta been too tame and triumphant if the performances weren't still full-time rippin' and riffy, if they didn't insert impeccable detail into the easy parts, if they didn't shamelessly soar or periodically crush or integrate detours like no one's business. But alas, they're Mastodon. 8/10


Mount Eerie - A Crow Looked at Me
*******HIGHEST RECS*******
///FUCK CANCER\\\
To write it off as excessively sad-sack or musically flagging would be missing the point; and whether you're already familiar with Phil Elverum's work or he's simply a sympathetic stranger, this arrests and lingers and troubles your guts like few other albums do. A genuine-n-recent 38-year old widower with young daughter at his side, he candidly captures a morbid moment in time; their stark shift together into a cruel and changing world. And a mumbler he is no longer, hence the mentions of dust-filled jars+fridge pics replacing a palpable person and gifts from beyond the grave and transforming dying faces being more explicit than anyone should ever hope for. The result of course is so depressing it's damn near unenjoyable -- but its boldly raw bareness is painfully powerful and all-too-befitting given the sitch, not to mention stays far far away from any form of prettying up, uglying up, or melodrama. Over the top yet so not, mechanical-n-slight percussion cuz how could it not be, humble artist going from loneliness-as-cool-concept to loneliness-as-absurdly-fucked-reality: it feels haunted with zero special effects, makes you face mortality with no buffer of beaut. "Death is real", and so is this. And if you'll allow me some humor here, out of his broad discography this may be his most 'eerie' album yet -- his most important, too. 10/10


Oddisee - The Iceberg
I admire his prudent positivity and punchy soul beats, his tenacious social concerns, the care taken for both lucid flows-for-days and pro-level choruses. I chuckle when he says the gender pay gap irks him more than cargo shorts, but cringe when he tacks on "yoga pants that's worn at anything that's not a sport" as well. The poppy pep can get a bit vexatious, "Waiting Outside" is an anomalous mess; but it's around when he grouses about his not-even-girlfriend choosing those good-4-nothin 'drug dealers' with 'the locks and the beards' over his wise+intelligent self that I'm left yearning for some modesty. I bet they're cool with yoga pants worn whateverwhichway. Love the fat funk drum jam sendout btw. 6.5/10


Power Trip - Nightmare Logic
*******HIGHEST RECS*******
Nothin' really beyond the ushe as far as crossover thrash goes, but when it's this solid+spirited who cares? Punchy production that's heavy and never overdone, all-around rippin' performances, short but substantial duration -- not only a terrific hybrid of hardcore and metal, but of fun and tough too. The most these guys go goofball is when they make a trip to the executioner sound like a real hoot and even get you to empathize with him ("Even a killer has to get paid!") -- routinely however they're more on the ol impending doom/mass slaughter/perils-of-mass-complacency train, maybe kinda trite-thrash as well but sounds rather righteous these days and considerably rousing here. And they got ya both having a blast singing along to it and trying your hardest not to run amok without one mention of a party. Also included for interludial apocalyptic reinforcement are some gurgly steamrollers and robo-synths. 7.5/10


Turinn - 18 ½ Minute Gaps
Twitchy techno at its core, cloaked in muffled muck for aesthetic, creates quite the textural cosmos within its graininess and lumpy dub -- fatiguing and not much for tunes, commendable cosmos and lo-fi filter. 6.5/10


Vermont - II
Ah sure it's feelin' sleepy and samey well before the near-hour is up, but this is the kind of active-ish ambient that serves better as a backdrop you can tune in-n-out of anyway -- deeper listens don't make it necessarily dazzle anew and do tend to make it drag moreso. But for something all bout that subtle soothe, it stays busy, provides languid melodies and firm ~feels~ throughout, and has quite the range for a subdued synth+stuff sound-set. Plus panning as pleasure source. 7/10

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