There’s a method to the madness, I tell ya. The blog ran a contest a couple of weeks ago, asking our readers what they’d like to see more of. A sort of suggestion box or comment card. A common theme was “shorter reviews.” Alright then, I’ll try to keep the brevity rocking hard on this one.

In a nutshell, Tune Yards (which is officially denoted as tUnE-yArDs, but since typing toggle case is kind of an ass pain, I’ll stay with MLA style) is one of the most schizophrenic and beautiful records to grace these ears this year. Bird-Brains is completely demented and angular, kinda like Xiu Xiu, but without treading the blurry line between “artistic vision” and “just fuckin’ around” that Mr. Stewart always straddled firmly. Perhaps a better description might be To Live And Shave in LA meets expressive female vocals and a folk-centric headspace. Bird-Brains, on the surface, is mostly constructed from spanish guitar, drum machines, found sounds, broken samples, and a sort of totally fucked, anything-goes “playfulness with artistic purpose” that almost evokes the ethos (though not necessarily the sound) of Captain Beefheart and Sun City Girls. And with this pallette, Tune-Yards explores the vast strata of freak folk, druggy pop, and musique concrete. As a taste, “Lions” almost resembles a sea chanty, “Sunlight” is a sort of brooding acid pop, “News” is a sunny kitchen sink sing-along with panged lyrics and general vibe of “just dropped off a song to the studio on the way to the store,” “Fiya” is a perfect stab at early psych folk, “Jamaican” builds a barely danceable beat around a recording of what I believe to be a child’s cough and a drill, and “Real Live Flesh” is sorta dubby. And that’s less than half the album represented. Oh yeah, almost forgot… there’s yodeling to be found on “Hatari.” Wowzers. So to that end, I love this record. Anything that’s challenging for me to describe always gets two thumps up and repeated listens on the ghetto blaster. I have no idea what’s happening half the time, and that keeps the intrigue level strong.

This statement might sound snobby, but whatever, it’s gotta be said. A lot of people are going to say they like the Tune-Yards album because it’s picking up a little buzz and it’s considered, ya know, arty. And these people will be goddamn liars. This album is as difficult as a Throbbing Gristle record. It just happens to have hooks and deceivingly positive vibes.

So don’t go into this listening experience expecting Dirty Projectors or Grizzly Barrrrr or whatever the fuck. Tune Yards are next level. You’ve been warned.

Anyway, Kenny Bloggins thinks 4AD should give all its St. Vincent budget to Tune-Yards to keep writing, recording, and touring. This shit is gospel. And it’s available this week, so go see about it.

For fans of:  Tickley Feather, Xiu Xiu, Holy Modal Rounders with beats

MP3 :::
Tune-Yards – Sunlight
Tune-Yards – News

Sometimes I’ll gladly risk wasting half an hour on a band I’ve never heard of if the name catches me. Such is the case with how I got into the music of Bobby Aherne, a.k.a some Irish guy who makes music as Dublin Duck Dispensary. I can’t tell you what that means, but I assure you that the tunes don’t suffer from the same gap in translation.

At it’s core, DDD is in the business of outsider tape-folk similar to acts like Pumice, but no two releases sound terribly alike. Earlier this year, Bobby released the Ykes Basket EP for free on the internet label Rack & Ruin records. Unaware of the lo-fi obsession smoldering over in the US, he busted out manic sprints of fried pop tunes from his bedroom. The crunchy riffs were supplemented by kitsch decorations of bells, whistles, and some homespun tales of Dadaist situations.

Then he did something expected; he turned it down a notch. Retreating to the coastline, Bobby pinned ten stripped tracks that would become the two sides of his most recent cassette Antique Beach Resort. Trading his electric guitar for a rusty acoustic, these new songs embrace the full-body strumming style of Jeff Mangum and his damp, campfire psychedelia. The vocals, a droll combination of snotty and naive, extract everything from catharsis to celebration. “It’s the same key to the palace as the morgue,” he sings on side b as the melody is overtaken by possessed claps and howls. This tape is a fascinating polaroid of his time spent seaside, and worth saving from obscurity.

Antique Beach Resort is available now on Rack & Ruin records website.

For Fans Of: Pumice, Jeff Mangum, Ganglians

MP3 :::
Dublin Duck Dispensary – Zoo on Yr Back
Dublin Duck Dispensary – The Jester

I enjoyed the new Tickley Feather record the first time I sat down to listen to it on Wednesday. Then yesterday I had a nasty 24-hour flu bug (or a 24-hour H1N1 – I’m uninsured, so I didn’t have it professionally diagnosed) and got rowdy on the Nyquil and Dayquil at the same time. I was thoroughly fucked. It was at that point that the new Tickley Feather jam hive sounded real good. I tried to type out my review for the album in this state, but all that came out was thoughts like “fickley teather’s bringing the happy face grind out ya doppler radar outta control” and “annie sachs lol, reminds me of, like, ’sacks’ as in ‘i want to carry around sacks so if someone ask for a hand i can be like – no dice, got these sacks’ jack handey to the max”(true story). Better wait until I’m 100% to write this, which I’m doing right now.

So… the fuck was I talking about? Oh yes, we were discussing adorable lil’ Annie Sachs, a.k.a. Tickley Feather a.k.a. Animal Collective’s BFF 4 Life. The Feather recently described her forthcoming Hors D’oeuvres as an attempt to embrace her “Southern Gothic meets Existential Hillbilly vibe,” promising a more bucolic, joyful, accessible effort. Bucolic? Yes, and you can hear the optimism embedded within from her recent move back to her homestead of rural Virginia. But accessible? Fear not, Tickley Feather is still weird as all hell and delightfully psychotic and looking glass-esque. Different this time around, as previously alluded, is the very concise, focused songwriting. The album’s production still sounds like it was recorded underwater (as it should), but the melodies and compositions are so good. Perhaps Hors D’oeuvres will go quadruple platinum. I fucking hope so.

Tickley’s signature drum machine, melted keys, and allegiance to four-track recording still remain in the forefront as she experiments with many genres, intrepreted slight askew of course. “Sure Relaxing” combines aquatic vocals and wah-pedal to evoke a sexy, LSD-lens Cocteau Twins. “Club Rhythm 96 and Cell Phone” brings you nasty dance funk electroclash as recorded by and for the Morlocks. “Buzzy” takes a page out of Ariel Pink’s instrumental jam book, using minimal loops and altering their fidelity to change the mood and timbre of the song throughout a la William Basinki (and a gorgeous one it is). “Don’t Call, Marilyn” amalgamates a ’60s doo wop sensibility with a sort of paranoia-inducing carnival beat and remains a big highlight.

However, where Tickley really hits her stride is on “Trashy Boys” and “Roses of Romance.” Tickley has a serious sense of soaring melody that was only hinted at on earlier work like “Natural.” Despite the wash of hazy effects and otherwordly disposition, there’s a quiet intimacy a la Movietone through the songs’ resplendent warmth that’s quite refreshing in the freak folk realm (though called Tickley “freak folk” is a bit of a disservice to her rather ingenious music). Truly gorgeous stuff.

Hors D’oeuveres holds up as I listen to it now with a sober mind, and was totally fuckin’ awesome on cough meds. Without sounding cliched, it is truly a syrupy trip into strange candy-coated lands, like entering the “Dark World” in Zelda Link to the Past. Highly recommended for all ocassions, and I reckon that it will end up on the best-of list for the year.

Hors D’oeuvres will burrow a hole in your dome when it drops October 20 coutesy of Paw Tracks. The image at the top is not the cover of the new album, by the way. High-res artwork has yet to be released for it.

Fagen-Becker Quality Rating

For fans of:  Ariel Pink, Bachelorette, Broadcast, Movietone

MP3 :::
Tickley Feather – Roses of Romance
Tickley Feather – Trashy Boys

Like BCE and CE, there are two distinct timelines for discussing Animal Collective. For the sake of shorthand, I will herein refer to these periods as the BF epoch (before Feels) and the AF (after Feels), with Feels being the Christ period. While the AF epoch emphasized vocal harmonies and booty bass (not to mention zealous internet hype, which was not necessarily undeserved), BF was brilliant, disjointed freak folk. If you miss that sound, Niao might help you out with their latest bucolic experimental jaunt Clenched Fist.

I had a feeling I would really enjoy this EP, considering the cover featured a sweet UFO and the press release was pointed, straightforward, and devoid of hyperbolic hype. It literally read “pentatonic blues runs on the keyboard, hypnotic rhythms and melodies accompanied by toms… no words, only drones and simple syllables like ‘ey ah oo wah’.” Well, alright, count me in.

The trio does indeed deliver the goods – sparse arrangements, thick tribal dissonance, and a sinister vibe. These are campfire songs for the possibly possessed. Great stuff. Czech out Sailing Records for more info and to grip Clenched Fist.

For fans of:  Blues Control, early Animal Collective, Black Dice

MP3 :::
Niao – Untitled Six

Ahoy, the holiest of holies there – the Boss SP-303 sampler. So you kinda know what’s comin’…

There’s been a cheeky debate going on with the serious (I Guess I’m Floating) and not so serious (Hipster Runoff) blogs about what to call the burst of sample-based, lightly acid-tinged pop music that exploded with Panda Bear’s Person Pitch and continues with strong work from Lotus Plaza, City Center, et al. I like sampsycore. It’s sort of German in its mindset – make a new word out of three existing ones. So I’ll throw that in the ring. Chillbrocore is good too, though. Anyway, I’m glad Nathaniel at the aforementioned IGIF introduced me to psychedelic pop bro Happy Family, because his new Sound Farm EP helps keep the brain limber.

Happy Family exudes a thick, hazy, classic 4AD vibe by way of Cocteau Twins, with fuuuuunk. That is to say, Happy Family’s songwriting tendencies and general sonic timbre fall somewhere between dub and freak folk, which are two rather disperate genres. Hombre pulls it off well.  In addition, the one-man Baltimore-based project also concocts a well-balanced blend of shoegaze, kraut, and 8mm-washed swells of ambience.  I tend not to like music with heavy, pervasive beats, but Happy Family’s scratchy, syrupy rhythm section is decidedly distinct and unusual, is somewhat reminiscent of Koushik’s or Forest Swords’ fine astral trips. Recommended.

Happy Family is all up on MySpazz.

For fans of:  City Center, Cocteau Twins, Forest Swords, Koushik

MP3 :::
Happy Family – Mindless Pleasures

I thought summer seemed a little dry for awesome shows, and it turns out that the big guns are coming out in the fall. From the people that brought you Sir Richard Bishop at the Swan Dive in June comes otherworldly mountain psych folk prophet Jack Rose. Mixing a slice of Americana with a slice of the Martian, Jack Rose concocts a swampy, breathy instrumental folk that is both comforting and challenging. No word on support yet, but you can bet that some of Louisville’s best will be vying for an opening slot for this visionary performer.

Jack Rose with TBA
Monday, September 28
All ages, 21+ to drink
Skull Alley – Louisville (map that shizz)
Doors and ticket price forthcoming

MP3 :::
Jack Rose – Revolt

There’s something about Louisville that produces adventurous female songwriters who completely eschew traditional (i.e. bland) folk leanings for massive, beautiful soundscapes and experimental song structures. Perhaps it’s the high grade weed that passes through here, who knows. Last week, you were introduced to the graceful Cheyenne Mize, who collaborated with Will Oldham on his Among the Gold EP.  I suppose you could classify her and other similar artists as part of the New Weird America camp.  But Tara Jane O’Neil, who recently relocated to Portland, is not new and not easy to pinpoint. She’s a longstanding freak folk luminary whose resume stretches far and wide, and she would stomp Joanna Newsome’s annoying ass and beat her with her own harp without a second thought.

A quick history lesson for the uninitiated. At 20, TJO tamed the low end in the legendary Louisville math rock collective Rodan, and played on their one and only album Rusty. After Rodan’s deterioration, she drfited between the likes of Ida, Mirah, Naysayer, Retsin, Jackie O Motherfucker, and good ol’ Dave Pajo as Papa M. Rodan enthusiasts will hate me for saying such, but her solo work, in my opinion, has left the most shattering impression. And the forthcoming A Ways Away is one of her best. It’s a scorcher.

While some of her recent work has adopted a more intimate and traditional folk approach in the vein of latter Fairport Convention or Townes Van Zandt, A Ways Away is lush, weird, and engrossing. Psych folk is the closest reference point, as the spinning textures and ambient flourishes are reminiscent of some of The Incredible String Band’s best stuff.  Yet, TJO is also entirely something else.

In a way, A Ways Away is a return to form and a maturation. The crafty utilization of space and syrupy slow tempo is reminiscent of early Low and, of course, Rodan and her first effort Peregrine. At the same time, TJO is fully owning her sound – writing concise songs while letting the drones and riffs wander in myriad directions. The result is a beautiful and accessible work that relishes in desolate sounds and bucolic late night wandering.  If you were intrigued by Grouper’s Dragging a Dead Deer Up a Hill last year, A Ways Away will floor you. Respect to Grouper, of course, but TJO was doin’ this thing first and, as such, deserving of your attention.

It’s important to note that you should stay very, very far away from alcohol whilst enjoying A Ways Away. It’s extremely somber and sorta creepy, notwithstanding that it’s absolutely gorgeous as well. Which reminds me, one of my best friends’ older brother had the pleasure of getting wasted with Tara at a Stereolab show in Louisville in 2002. I can’t even piece this scenario together. Stereolab played at one of the douchiest bars in town, Phoenix Hill Tavern (imagine “Parsec” amongst a sea of popped collars, ya know?). And here’s Sam, a total good times dude, taking whiskey shots with the distant TJO. I’ll have to ask him what they talked about next time I see him.

Ah, I follow tangents as they come, where was I?  Oh yes, back to how and why A Ways Away rules. The tonality TJO employs on her clean electric guitar, with huge atmospheric reverberation added to great effect, is remarkable to listen to, and perfect for driving west during the storm. “Pearl Into Sand” is a beastly, rowdy drone instrumental that just handed my ass to me. This leads into the equally beastly “Beast, Go Along.” As beautiful as it is haunting, “Beast, Go Along” is the best representation of A Ways Away as a whole. Morricone-style riffs drift in and out, while light touches of steel guitar adds a slight cosmic American music slant – all of which ride delicately over thick, warm drones. It’s a delicious dirge that you can expect on my best of ‘09 list.  While firmly cemented within the parameters of atmospheric folk, TJO’s A Ways Away reveals many facets that only get better with each listen.

Fagen-Becker Quality Rating

A Ways Away is her first album on K Records, and is out May 5 (along with every other record I’ve covered recently – that’s a huge day).

For fans of: Grouper, Linda Perhacs, Belong

MP3 :::
Tara Jane O’Neil – Pearl Into Sand
Tara Jane O’Neil – Beast, Go Along
Tara Jane O’Neil – Dig In

First Muzak and now this news; Touch and Go Records is shuttering its distribution arm and laying off staff in response to that economic crisis thing.  Perhaps it’s not surprising given that most labels have been absolutely decimated not only by the economy but by the sea change in music consumers’ purchasing behavior.

The major labels have long operated based on a ’swing for the fences’ business model with the presumption that pouring enough money into a release can somehow strongarm it into being a hit.  But despite the deep pockets, majors have historically released 9 losers for every winner.  Touch and Go, on the other hand, relied on shoe-string budgets and word-of-mouth promotion to goose its releases.  Needless to say, its downfall doesn’t bode well for the state of less robust indie labels.

With that backdrop, let me wax on ya about the sheer volume of music available and the effect it’s having on listening habits.  The other night I found myself on Last.fm until I had to prop my eyelids open with pencils.  It was like diving into a swimming pool full of Oreos with a pint of milk in hand.  Sheer bliss for a while as I reveled in the limitless pleasures available, but ultimately disappointing as I realized the limits to my physical capabilities.

At some point in the past 10 years I stopped listening to albums and started listening to songs.  It began innocently enough with mix tapes.  These were purely labors of love with hours spent winding and rewinding tape, scattering CDs across the floor and avoiding the ultimate mix tape sin – having the tape run out in the middle of a song.  But with the constant evolution from CD changers to MP3 players, the ability to instantly call up an obscure cut from your library of thousands of files (formerly known as “songs”) became universally available.

It used to be that buying CDs was a near-religious experience.  Bringing it home, dropping it in the tray and scouring the liner notes while relaxing on the sofa.  It was an event.  More recently I sit at the laptop with earbuds and skim through a limitless amount of streams, samples and downloads.  We’ve gone from a fine dining experience to the Golden Corral buffet.

There’s an upside here.  As consumers we can easily access a massive variety of music from our homes.  Buying music used to mean taking a risk and, at $12 a pop, not a cheap one.  One way of separating the wheat from the shit used to be trust in labels.  SST, Sub Pop, Touch and Go, Creation, what-have-you.  Labels established reputations and reputations created allegiances.  I can’t help but wonder whether the decline of label relevancy has hurt the established names in the biz.

So what say you all?  Is the online distribution and sampling of music making labels less relevant?  Rather than plunking down $12 on a Touch and Go release do you spread your dollars around?

The average listener who consumes major label hits probably isn’t going to stray into Touch and Go territory.  But the avid music fan – Touch and Go’s core audience – is likely to stray elsewhere if given the opportunity at no risk.

Regardless of what precipitated the decline, Touch and Go is an icon in the indie world and its releases will live on long after the label.  Here’s a few gems just to jog your memory a bit (and maybe even spur you to purchase the entire album).

MP3 :::
Brainiac – Kiss Me, You Jacked Up Jerk
The Black Heart Procession – The Old Kind of Summer
Bad Livers – Jesus is on the Mainline

Mercurial weird beards and proteges to crazy ol’ cowboy Michael Gira, the ever-revolving freak folk collective Akron/Family, have big things coming up this year, including their first record as a trio (meaning possibly stripped down?) Set ‘Em Wild, Set ‘Em Free.  It’s out May 5th on Dead Oceans.  With a much more expansive tour this spring than last winter’s New England-only tour, Akron/Family traverse the great Manifest Destiny throughout the intervening period, including a few residency shows.  They’re still passing up Louisville though (what gives guys?  C’mon, creepy Will Oldham’s for real tryin’ to see you).  Regardless, Set ‘Em Wild promises to be sick and I’ll have some songs for you all as soon as I get to hear it.

Also of note, fellow Young God-er Larkin Grimm is supporting the /Family for a few shows (well, one), and you can catch her tonight at the awesome 21C in Louisville with Sandpaper Dolls.  Her parents were in a cult!

Sun. Mar. 1 – Santa Monica, CA @ McCabe’s Guitar Shop w/ Ben Harper, Howlin’ Rain (Chris Darrow tribute show)
Fri. Mar. 6 – San Francisco, CA @ Hemlock Tavern w/ Avocet
Sat. Mar. 7 – San Francisco, CA @ Hemlock Tavern w/ Citay
Sun. Mar. 8 – San Francisco, CA @ Hemlock Tavern w/ Howlin’ Rain (acoustic)
Mon. Mar. 9 – Santa Cruz, CA @ Brookdale Lodge
Tue. Mar. 10 – Los Angeles, CA @ Steve Allen Theatre w/ Charlyne Yi, the Hollywood Hotshots
Wed. Mar. 11 – Los Angeles, CA @ Steve Allen Theatre w/ Golden Animals, Max Maven
Thu. Mar. 12 – Los Angeles, CA @ Steve Allen Theatre
Fri. Mar. 13 – Las Vegas, NV @ The Aruba @ Neon Reverb Festival
Tue. Mar. 17 – Denver, CO @ Oriental Theatre
Wed. Mar. 18 – Austin, TX @ The Mohawk – 5 PM – Austinist/Gothamist Party – SXSW
Thu. Mar. 19 – Austin, TX @ The Mohawk – Dead Oceans/Jagjaguwar/Secretly Canadian Showcase – SXSW
Sun. Mar. 22 – Hamilton, ON @ The Casbah w/ Rock Plaza Central
Mon. Mar. 23 – Toronto, ON @ Sneaky Dees w/ Born Ruffians
Tue. Mar. 24 – Toronto, ON @ Sneaky Dees w/ Born Rufians – SOLD OUT
Wed. Mar. 25 – Montreal, QC @ Il Motore w/ Born Ruffians
Thu. Mar. 26 – Montreal, QC @ Il Motore w/ Born Ruffians
Fri. Mar. 27 – New York, NY @ The New Museum w/ The Lexie Mountain Boys
Sat. Mar. 28 – Brooklyn, NY @ Union Pool w/ Gold Sparkle Band
Sun. Mar. 29 – Brooklyn, NY @ Union Pool w/ Larkin Grimm

MP3 :::
Akron/Family – Don’t Be Afraid, You’re Already Dead
Larkin Grimm – Dominican Rum

I failed to mention last week that Psychic Ills also dropped a heavy one on Obama day last week.  Mirror Eye is out now and sounds mighty nice. Replete with skulduggery and a radiating sense of paranoia (not to mention better production this time around), Psychic Ills do well to keep Social Registry evil.

“Mantis” comes correct with tribal bangin’ and a fluid bass line riding the song through ten big minutes of finding yourself lost in a cave.  “Eyes Closed” offers a slight kraut feel, or if you will, modulating jungle bogged down on purple drank, with the sinister aura that Indian Jewelry perfected. Both dirges make supreme use of space – sounding bigger and expansive by what’s not there.

Recommended.  Grip it here and save a couple of bucks.

MP3 :::
Psychic Ills – Mantis
Psychic Ills – Eyes Closed