2017 pt. 9

The Chainsmokers - Memories…Do Not Open

Pretty much a given to despise em regardless if you are or aren't one of their five billion YouTube viewers -- I unabashedly are. And antipathy comes easy: palpably phony emotion, drippy+predictable+overblown electro-pop, handful of real bonehead lines commingling with a buncha bland ones, laughably hideous dubstep squelchin'. But to dub them nugatory is a bit too much. The four femme-features are all boosts in persona and performance, beats this streamlined can't help but be capable to a certain extent, "Paris"-"parents"-"terrace" proves a pretty dandy rhyme scheme, and if you can't find a few parts that hound your head well after they're over you're probably prejudicially turning a blind ear. Yet who really needs a pair of self-serving automatons who sometimes slide a swear in or fight your dad to keep things edgy? They're nice enough to provide us with an Armageddon Anthem, at least: "Last Day Alive", the unconcerned lighter-waving ball-o-hollow we all deserve. ~*~meh~*~

Elysia Crampton - Spots y Escupitajo

Spots=8-piece Crampton-style DJ tag sampler pack. Escupitajo=muffled muck and Crampton-style collage and verbose doomsday spoken word and a meandering lone-piano dragger; most of which are aight but clearly casual and nothin' worth droolin' over. Would've liked to see Spots breaking up that Escupitajo instead of stuffing em in at the start. Spots y Escupitajo=a decent enough offering but the epitome of gallimaufry. 5.5/10

Tica Douglas - Our Lady Star of the Sea, Help and Protect Us

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

Not quite the magnificent leap one might hope for on a debut followup, but evidence of evolution is everywhere: tunes once largely sticking to the two-to-three-minute range now rest comfortably at four-to-six, they stray from sounding demo-ish, acoustic less rusty, outdoor sounds minimal. And though that garage-folkie band-o-backups attain enterprise+emphasis, it's still very much Tica's show -- unadorned solo strummin' and tender huskiness remains the forte, and when she tosses in touches of electro-horns expect epic. Would like to hear more picture-painting lyrically tho, just cuz when occurring it's oft optimum. I.e., dealing with deaths, awkward run-ins at readings, everyone desiring drinks and serenity while viewing the news in bed ("Oh no oh no oh no."). 7.5/10

Marc Houle - Sinister Mind

Pedestrian protracted techno for the most part, but its grooves are deep and prominent enough to grab ya -- tenacity that doesn't quite torment, mild patterns at least tolerable if not engaging, creepy+spacey yet funky+lively. Do I yearn for spunk and surprises? Indeed. Think it coulda used some track trims? Probably. Wish he kept it up with the colorless vox after the first two? Not really. 5/10

Ravyn Lenae - Midnight Moonlight [EP]

Solid six-song mini-slab of bedtime r&b -- beats bring space-synth soothe, fitful bass and other electro-particulars, champion clacks-n-snaps. Interlude thing/half-length track for good measure. Perhaps too subtle for hits, but for the hits see the side-closers: oodles of savory flavors and lustin' for a refill. 6.5/10

Roc Marciano - Rosebudd's Revenge

A steadily dusted deliverer with low-key beats to match, Marciano's raspy murmurs give ya lots to dig into -- full-a gifted grit and wordplay, periodically fun to follow, 'aha' lines more recurrent than the 'blech' ones. But lack of variety via maintaining this motif takes its toll. A near hour of this same ol particular flow and feel, scarce and interchangeable-anyway guest spots; his therapeutic art it may be but this just gets tiresome. As do the growls. 5.5/10

Me And That Man - Songs of Love and Death

Versed death metal yeller takes a stab at straight clean-voxed blues rock that would feel fitting at a dark-n-dingy bar deep in the woods or while drivin' down some dusty graveyard-laden trails. A surprisingly successful stab I'd say, but on the whole kinda too by the numbers; compelling moodiness eventually turning strained+silly. For the singing children see "Cross My Heart and Hope to Die", for standout softie that should've been an opening theme for The Leftovers see "One Day", for Song Of Love And Death see "Shaman Blues": "She got a black pearl in her pussy / and it'll be there til the day she dies / Then I'll stick it in her mouth, honey / and spit on her vacant eyes". 5.5/10

Mutoid Man - War Moans
*******HIGHEST RECS*******

Yours and my favorite Smash TV-referencing super-trio sensation return for a much anticipated full-length part two; one whose growth is gainly but with mixed results. Ultimately the songwriting is no doubt upped and they further cement their standing as bodacious blenders of hardcore, metal, speed, sludge, ridiculous melodic fun, complex+ferocious crush. But other than an omg-riff here or a stupidly good guitar-strangle solo there, I get more enjoyment and energy out of their debut's dirtier directness. Brodsky's clarion chirp goin' a bit over-cheesy at times. And I love a good guitar strangle, but I'd gladly swap out one of the extra axe-guests if Wolfe did more than whimper. 7.5/10

The Smith Street Band - More Scared of You Than You Are of Me

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

Front-fella Wil Wagner's weepy romantic zeal nearly sinks em, but gotta say it's what clinches the grandness at hand here. His Aussie ass slurs swiftly+sloppily, shouts and 'woah's with all the sincerity ever hoped for in a singalong, snarls like a grump, scolds pilot smokers, pouts like a lost punk puppy, conveys a punching bag lickspittle hung up on kissing girls and not kissing girls and writing songs about those things. And he and dat Band do it up with enough explosive melodic energy to secure myself a spot in the pit if they ever come to the States -- but I must hand it to likeminded Producer Rosentock for providing this group-in-a-room recording with frills ranging from gloriously loud guitar layers and keyb scuzz to swelling strings and somber slowdowns to the imminent gang vox and Laura Stevenson appearance. Says the 28-year old who recollects being "young once" with an impossible pining: "It's just me and Chris but he's stoned as shit and passing out / That was okay once, for some reason it's sad now". 7.5/10

White Reaper - The World's Best American Band

///BRAV-FUCKING-O\\\

If you couldn't tell from dat title or the introductory faux audience cheers, they still ride the bratty-n-insouciant train pretty hard. Difference is now they've earned it; the cheers part at least. Most if not all 10 trax are a small step away from stadium-status punky power-pop, swaggerin' and distinguishable to boot -- making riffs+solos+hooks really count, honed performances all around, successful spectacle of solidity packed in at just over a half-hour. Tho will admit, they still got me feeling somewhat empty at the end of the day. Maybe if Esposito's tonsil-tone wasn't so treadmill. 6.5/10