Before we begin, do you know who this is in the photo above?  No?  Why, it’s Marjorie Merriweather Post, the founder of General Foods, Inc.  Though she enjoyed a lavish lifestyle and socialite existence, the cereal magnate also subscribed to the Rockefeller school of philanthropic thought and donated tons of money to various causes, eventually getting an outdoor concert pavilion in Maryland named after her and, ergo, an album I’m getting ready to pop on the ghetto blaster.

So anyway, you know the drill.  When I grip a new and anticipated jam hive, I like to review it in “real time”… that is to say, I fuckin’ listen to that shizz and liveblog my thoughts on it, only revising for grammatical errors and editorial clarity. Today, Animal Collective’s forthcoming Merriweather Post Pavilion gets said treatment.  It comes out on Domino on January 20th in digital format, January 6th on analog (vinyl).  Unfortunately, you get no preview for yourself, as I got Web Sheriffed on Christmas.  Christmas!

I’ll try to keep this objective.  However, I’ve been a huge Animal Collective fan since I first heard “Slippi” from Here Comes the Indian roughly… I dunno, five years ago or so.  Hence, I have rather strong feelings toward this music, lots of nostalgia, and high expectations. This does, however, usually make for a better write-up.  My prediction – Strawberry Jam seemed to act as a bridge between Animal Collective’s weirdo rippin’ and the newer pop movements showcased in their recent live performances and, of course, Panda Bear’s solo outing.  I expect Merriweather to be AC’s most accessible release yet, for better or worse. 

Alright, let’s do this like Buddhists.  Mashin’ play:

“In the Flowers” - Begins in a flurry of somewhat disjointed sound, much like “Peacebone,” and well, “Did You See the Words,” too.  Perhaps this is the standard exposition for an Animal Collective release as of late. The faint, reverberated clean guitars that defined a lot of Feels come back before the track explodes into epic bombasticity.  Avey Tare sings in his absolute most melodic, soaring above a bed of piano, chopped string ensemble samples (or at least what sounds like such), and a lush, shoegazing wall of sounds.  Almost has a classic rock feel, come to think of it…

“My Girls” – Twinkly and glitchy samples introduce “My Girls,” which doesn’t derive too much from the live renditions of “House” heard over the past year or so, with exception of a greater vocal presence in the mix.  “My Girls” is a quite traditional verse-chorus structure, which is unusual for AC.  The lyrics are some of the least cryptic, tackling the important topic of takin’ care of you and yours.  After the second chorus, handclaps come in at perfect 4/4 time, solidifying the Collective’s first dance club banger. Similar to much of Strawberry Jam, “My Girls” is sample heavy and devoid of guitars.

“Also Frightened” – This is the first song that I’ve really enjoyed thus far.  “Also Frightened” is Animal Collective’s expansive circus chanty, with twinkly arcade pings in tow.  Enjoy equal throat duty from Avey and Panda over a waltzy rhythm and a Barrett like melody.  Best of the batch, so far.  Love the polyphonic vocal breaks.  Reminiscent of The Soft Bulletin.

Verdict:

“Summertime Clothes” – Fuzzy, grimy, bit-crushed, rigidly rhythmic samples kick start “Summertime Clothes,” originally known as “Bearhug.”  Big treble-riding beats drop in with mechanical Kraftwerkesque flourishes and Lee Scratch Perry reverb, cultivating a definite dubstep vibe.

“Daily Routine” -  Quite different from the live version.  Lots of booty bass, dense dance beats, and some strange glitchy organ swells reminiscent of “Baba O’Reiley” all build to a small crescendo before breaking into the first ambient moment of the record, featuring Panda singing “just a sec more, in my beeeeeeed” repetitively.  Another song about how rad kids are.  Not into this, save for Panda’s exceptional vocal intro.  The rest is way too Paul Oakenfold for my taste, though.

“Bluish” – Serious 4AD vibe… Dead Can Dance and Cocteau Twins specifically.  First AC song that most people would consider “pretty.”  This song is, actually, the most gorgeous, melodic output from Animal Collective ever… but at the expense of not really sounding like them.  Such branching out is very respectable though, and I always applaud experimentation and tweaking.  However, older fans may scratch their head on this record thus far.  I actually really enjoy this song, despite the somewhat corny vibe.

“Guys Eyes” – Aquatic textures and a cricket sound open the track, conjuring the bucolic soundscape that defines Sung Tongs.  With the rhythmic piano, syncopated beats, and two separate vocal melodies sung simultaneously, this is the closest to older Animal Collective on this album.

“Taste” - The total Panda Bear experience.  Person Pitch strikes back.  Sample organic percussion mixed with faint vocals and a sugary hook – this is obviously Noah’s track.  Actually, it seems that Noah has really taken over a lot of the creative direction with this record.  We know he’s really into dubstep and electronic exploration, loves Daft Punk, and enjoys a really good vocal harmony or two.  Personally, I like the play of the ying and yang between Avey and Panda, following the long tradition of ol’ Lennon and the Mac.  We’ve yet to hear Avey lose his shit as he’s wont to do, even on Strawberry Jam.  Regardless, AC ups the psychedelic vibe on this one, so I really enjoy this track.  Second favorite thus far, behind “Also Frightened.”

“Lion in a Coma” – I wasn’t a fan of this song when I first heard it live.  The recorded version is almost exactly the same, with the exception of a prominent didgeridoo sample and a full embrace of low end.  Good soundtrack for goin’ on safaris.  Unfortunately, I never go on safaris.

“No More Runnin’” – Zounds!  A ballad?  Intimate piano and vocals adorn this song almost exclusively, with the exception of a little bit of sonic manipulation from the Geologist.  This tracks sounds like it comes straight from Sigur Ros’ ().  The repeating of the song’s title, mixed with the slow tempo piano, is total Kiss FM style.  This majorly bums me out.

Verdict:

“Brother Sport” – Oh no, this is horrible. The tribal chant sounds like Sebastian the Lobster’s “Under the Sea” from The Little Mermaid.  This would be the perfect song for the dolphin show at the Louisville Zoo.  What the fuck, dudes?  Befouled!  Leave the stupid African vibe to Vampire Weekend, please.  I don’t know why Animal Collective turned into World Party in the album’s last quarter.  The final track is especially heavy on the 8-bit sound effects, invoking sadness for no longer having my old Nintendo.  To top it off, the song features this sort of beat that reminds me of the oft-utilized old school hip-hop “whoo!.. yeah!” sample.  Everybody dance now.  “I know it sucks that daddy’s dumb” is an amusing lyric, though.  Somebody was seriously baked.

I feel kinda bad for raggin’ on the last few songs, espeically after having worked two of their shows in the past and experiencing their (very refreshing) humility, politeness, and gingerly nature first hand.  But I had to be honest – the first half ruled, the second half… ehhh.  However, I’ll still buy this record when it comes out, see them play live, and support them to the maxxx… so it’s all zero-sum in the end.  Wavy gravy.

Final thoughts…

Despite their former and refreshing strangeness over the past decade, Animal Collective has reached the point of deafening critical praise wherein people of all tastes will listen.  This is totally deserved for a group as prolific and eclectic as Animal Collective.  However, Merriweather Post Pavilion, the group’s ninth offering, will probably provide their first truly polarizing record, though not in the way their earlier albums were polarizing.

Gone are the drone examinations, freak folk structures, and Avey Tare’s shamanistic yelps, now replaced with dub-informed booty bass, dance rhythms, and polyphonic vocal harmonies.  Merriweather Post Pavilion features a lot of firsts for the group, and as such, I offer nothing but respect for their daring – piano ballads, dream pop, shoegazing, dub, trance, and more are all explored.  In addition, their earlier approaches to songwriting are peppered throughout Merriweather: the sunny melodies of Strawberry Jam, the grating glitch of Here Comes the Indian and Spirit They’re Gone, Spirit They’ve Vanished, the bombast of Feels, the found-sounds and bellyhoo of Campfire Songs, and… well, nothing really from Sung Tongs.  So it’s an almost retrospective.  Regardless, it’s the tight compositions, catchy song-based structures, and completely dominate vocal tracks that are ubiquitously showcased throughout.  Newer Animal Collective fans will be pleased and impressed with the seamless amalgamation of sonically adventurous ideas and pop music, combining the bit-crushing texture of earlier works with the beat-heavy, soaring polyphonic melodies of Panda Bear’s sophomore solo record Person Pitch.  Fans of Sung Tongs and before, however, will scratch their heads wondering where their strange friends went.

Merriweather Post Pavilion is an enjoyable listen and certainly the next logical next step in context of Animal Collective’s trajectory, adding increasing pop sensibility with each release.  Animal Collective has still held their place in the top tier of contemporary artists.  Unfortunately, this new artistic statement is not the envelope-pusher that the experimentation of Here Comes the Indian and Feels offered.

Of course, the innate issue with the “Real Time Review” that should be addressed is that these thoughts are my initial impression and my opinion may change over time.  But right now, I feel pretty ambivalent overall.  There are flashes of brilliance (the first quarter of the album), and segments of banality (the last quarter of the album).  Perhaps I simply miss the old freaky-deeky Animal Collective I’ve known and loved.  Perhaps it’ll grow on me over time.  “Also Frightened” is the tits, though.

Fagen-Becker Quality Rating:

MP3 :::
Animal Collective – Web Sheriff Won’t Let Me Post Nothin’, So Enjoy a Sick Jam By Mr. T About How Awesome He Thinks His Mom Is

Oh good, glad to see you like my illustration.  Yeah, I had some downtime and wasn’t feelin’ too creative or too much in my graphic design game as far as doing something special for The Decibel Tolls year-end list.  So Lana and I started talking, and it came to us that it would be hysterical to do a collage with people like Bradford Cox eating that Ezra Comma dude from Frankenstein Weekday or whoever, and Franz Ferdinand… stuff like that.  I didn’t have time to add Lil’ Wayne.  And then I had to make, like, the fuckin’ universe as the backdrop.  That’s how we roll here at the Decibel Tolls – no fun, tasteful graphic to designate this article as the accumulative best-of list.  Nope, just crude images of artists I like with their heads detached eating shitty bands.  I’m additionally thrilled that I was able to describe the image even further despite the fact that it’s already annotated.  I rule.

I put some serious thought into this list, and did a bunch of narrowin’ down.  There were other jam hives I was rather infatuated with this year, such as releases from Magik Markers, Burning Star Core, and Vivian Girls.  But I wanted to do just the standard top ten this time around.  No reason to not do things standard every now and again…

10) KOUSHIK – Out My Window

From 7.29.08: Koushik’s Be With compilation was amazing, but a little brief (only one track made it over the three minute mark). That issue is fixed with Out My Window. Lead single “Lying in the Sun” is sunny psychedelia that comes correct and interpreted electronically – kinda like Caribou (Koushik even provided throat duty for some jams on Up in Flames, back in the pre-MySpace days when Danny S was known as Manitboa). However, Koushik remains very distinct, particularly by way of his clam, insanely reverberated vocals. All that was good about Be With is brought to the forefront – the sonically organic, lush, and hazy textures juxtaposed against crashing beats. However, you can tell, with this track alone, that Out My Window is going to showcase a lot more new ideas. Koushik is the latest heir to the Free Design’s throne, as long as that throne has room for some thumpin’ low end. This… this sweet psych slice is so sickeningly good. It’s an IV drip of technicolor beauty. This groove can heal most terminal illnesses.

MP3:::
Koushik – Lying in the Sun

09) THE BLACK ANGELS – Directions to See a Ghost

From 6.30.08 (The first Decibel Tolls post, actually): The Black Angels‘ latest, Directions to See a Ghost, a poignant title encapsulating their increasingly distinct desert-noir dusty psych grooves, picks up right where 2006’s Passover left off. Tom-heavy percussion intros, tremolo-saturated guitar meltdowns, nasty bass rumbles, and Alex Maas’ throat offerings (vocals that, to me, flutter somewhere between Jim James and Gregorian chant) are all still intact from the Passover days. However, Directions to See a Ghost does mature in two distinct ways. First, there’s a very fluid motion to the album, connecting each windswept canticle to the next. By structuring and composing most of the album in a similar vein with slightly altering moods, the Black Angels have created a whole, cohesive work as opposed to simply a collection of songs they dropped off at the studio on the way to the store. Of course, a good psych rock record should have a consistent ambiance as per the clientele since, you know, Beck albums are not the weapon of choice for the 420 LOL contingent. Secondly, the Black Angels have adopted a deeper sense of melody. Dare I say some catchiness abounds in the major-key call to arms “Doves,” the evil-Beatles sitar raga of “Dee-Ree-Shee,” and the funkadelic first movement of “Snake in the Grass.” This newmelodic slant pushes the Black Angels above some of their LSD theater contemporaries like Dead Meadow and Bardo Pond… Ultimately, If you’re going to emulate and lightly interpret bygone music, why not merge the music of the most triumphant groups ever and mold them into one totally epic behemoth? You know, originality often comes at a cost to the listener. Sometimes it works well and makes an urgent statement, but sometimes it doesn’t and is just overly challenging and annoying (Lou Reed and Tony Conrad anyone?). You know exactly what you’re getting with the Black Angels – no frills – just pop on, flip on the iTunes visualizer, take a bong rip, tune in, turn on, and drop out.

MP3 :::
The Black Angels – Vikings

08) SIC ALPS – U.S. Ez

From 10.21.08 This isn’t your father’s unwashable, filthy, no-fi psychedelic rock scuz – Sic Alps twist, creak, and thump, taking you on a cosmically damaged romp through west coast good vibes and future shock trepidation.  The latest, U.S. Ez, has a comfy place on the Siltbreeze roster with the likes of Charlambides, The Dead C, and U.S. Girls. Sic Alps certainly drink from the same goblets as the highest in psych rock royalty, but they also bring the goods to back up their seat at the table… I was casually listening to my iTunes on shuffle whilst engaging in some fast-track multitasking when “Clubbing For $$” came on and I thought “hmm, I don’t recognize this Alexander Skip Spence song.” Both Skip Spence and Alps vocalist Mike Donovan retain a subtle, gorgeous quality through raspy timbre and decimated, hissing melodies, suggesting that both gentlemen have seen the true face of God and didn’t like what they saw. “Gelly Roll Gum Drops” also provokes this same, insane electric folk feel, with a bit of 13th Floor Elevators style celestial boogie and some general Holy Modal Rounders headfuckery tossed in to give this exercise in tape reverb fortitude some serious lift.  I’m also reminded of my favorite work of Neil Michael Haggerty in U.S. Ez, so imagine my elation when I found out they play as his backup band every now and again. The blitzkrieg of fuzz on “Massive Place” might make Mudhoney feel retarded. But enough of comparisons. Comparisons are lame. I’m listening to this record right now as we speak, and all that needs to be said is that it’s so fucking good… I hope Sic Alps sell a billion records.

MP3 :::
Sic Alps – Bathman

07) HIGH PLACES – High Places

Beach House on uppers.  High Places take the hippie thing in a whole new direction.  Whereas Brightblack Morning Light are unabashedly hippie to the point of almost self-parody, High Places keep their love of nature and petuli more subtle.  Very similar to Panda Bear’s Person Pitch, High Places create a veritable tower of power of lush and bucolic sampled layers, all of which are sun-tinged, and some of which lean on that Raymond Scott-esque atomic age quality found in Broadcast’s latter stuff.  Less beat heavy than Panda, however, High Places tear down all walls and allow the fluid hippy trance melodies to flow like urban runoff, letting Mary Pearson’s vocals provide the ropes to keep everything together.  This is undoubtedly the summer jam.  Sometimes those marimba sounding beats come in a little too heavy and everything gets a little too “hey mon, no problem” for me.  No matter, “From Stardust to Sentience” is so grandiose and gorgeous that nothing else is relevant.  “From Stardust to Sentience” is some next level shit.  High Places also gets best album art of the year – what, with the giant pink ghostly baby and the illuminated agrocrag.  Get this album, or else the terrorists will win.

MP3 :::
High Places – From Stardust to Sentience

06) WOMEN – Women

From 10.20.08: I was introduced to Women (that sounds so odd) by a fellow Tiny Mix Tapes writer who proclaimed that Women is prefect for anyone who “gets their dick up to Animal Collective.” I was certainly intrigued after that statement, especially since he said the word “dick.” And while I would concur that the Calgary band sometimes evokes the more menacing material on Here Comes the Indian and Danse Manitee, Women are by no means a knock-off. Whereas Animal Collective has always exuded a playfulness and childlike veneer, here be dragons within Women. The crescendo of the excellently titled “Lawncare” wants to pillage your village and breed with your women (pun intended, motherfucker).  I would also be somewhat remiss to not recognize the pretty spot-on review courtesy of Jagjaguwar’s one sheet: “Sometimes light and spacious, at other times eerie and dense with an ominous weight, this self titled album touches upon Velvet Underground, Swell Maps or This Heat while not really having any obvious precursors – a lo-fi masterpiece cloaked in layers of vibrato and guitar wash.” That’s certainly true, as Women adopt the traditional instrumentation of gritty garage punk and stretch its potential across ’60s Nuggets-ready psychedelia, early ’80s no wave, and contemporary, slightly-askew pop peppered with noise flourishes. You also get a heavy-dose of the elusive hummable anthem with “Black Rice,” Fahey-esque guitar noodling on “Sag Harbor Blues,” and a nihilistic Madchester zeitgeist-meets Boredoms thirsty on bloodlust hodgepodge on “Shaking Hands.” The insanity and panning production on “January 8th” attacks your brain with holy water sprinklers. January 8th, as a fun fact, is David Bowie’s birthday. Women’s “January 8th” sounds nothing like David Bowie.

MP3 :::
Women – Lawncare

05) INDIAN JEWELRY – Free Gold

I had the pleasure of suffering moderate brain damage for a sustained period of time after seeing Indian Jewelry in October of 2005, a few months shy of their debut Inevasive Exotics dropping like hot magma.  They were playing a show with some friends of mine whom I came out to see.  I had never heard of them and offered no expectations.  Dudes started wrapping the stage in hundreds of feet of aluminum foil betwixt multiple strobe lights, animal skulls, fog machines, and a large Lone Star state flag backdrop (certainly a sinister symbol in the middle of W’s second term).  It was total brutality.  And while Inevasive Exotics was an excellent albeit very evil album, Free Gold furthers Indian Jewelry beyond shock and swells of noise, moving away from the mechanical squall of their influences like Suicide or Swans.  Free Gold is rich in hooks and melodies, and they’re not necessarily subtle either.  But Indian Jewelry does not completely abandon their destructive forces.  Just about every track is stacked high with sludge, fuzz, and squelches, and all songs remain unequivocally foreboding.  But the song structures are not freeform anymore, but rather, concise, crafty, and almost, gulp, electric folk.  Free Gold’s midsection is flawless and so cohesive that it almost comes across as a suite, starting with “Walking on the Water,” and ending abruptly with the quite, curveball all acoustic Erika Thrasher track “Everyday.”  Indian Jewelry is doing a rather new thing, as far as creating moods of almost-fright within songs that balance catchiness and chaos.  It’s rather unfortunate that Free Gold has not been more celebrated, but alas, that’s the inherent issue with being ahead of the curve, as it were.

MP3 :::
Indian Jewelry – Nonetheless

04) GROWING – All the Way

From 8.20.08: I’ve seen Growing twice. I witnessed them offer a very competitive opening set for Mogwai. Though there was nothing much to watch, per se, hearing their very warm and resonating drone assault, as suffocatingly prominent as their rapid-fire fractured guitar architecture, over a 8,000 watt PA felt like marching into Mordor. Shit was powerful. Growing has often been described as doom. I don’t really agree. Perhaps it’s because I saw them later at a party cracking wise and crushing Rolling Rock on top of a washer/dryer unit, but mostly because their harmonically complex jam hives sound almost hopeful – vast and assuring – like trying to look over the curve of the Earth. Growing seems to be taking a new direction now, offering a more shimmering, melodic approach, not too far removed from Cloudland Canyon [Bloggins note: see blow]. “Innit” is a big fuzzy bit-decimating tremolo defibrillator. “Green Flag” has a charming, delightful little breathing monster under its surface. This is profoundly good.  Growing likes to rip a big hole in the sky only a couple meters above your dome.

MP3 :::
Growing – Rave Pie Only

03) CLOUDLAND CANYON – Lie in Light

From 8.15.08: About 10 years ago, Art Bell, then host of late night alien and conspiracy theory-themed radio program Coast to Coast AM, aired the frightening urban legend recording “The Sounds From Hell.” It’s an unsettling clip, but also morbidly fun. It’s also completely a hoax (literally speaking, not theologically). The origin of this sound is as follows: Soviet scientists drilled a hole nine miles deep in the heart of Siberia to study plate tectonics. When they hit a heat pocket, their drilling equipment was destroyed, followed by the sound of millions of screaming souls. As any good scientist would do, they whipped out the mics and recorded it…  I tell this anecdote as it relates the feeling I get when I hear Cloudland Canyon, and subsequently, when I feel my face melt off my skull. I don’t believe in hell, but I believe in nine mile deep holes. And at the entrance of such a tremendous cave, portal, the dark and cavernous chasm reaching deep into foreboding stretches beyond our measly surface existence, is the sound of Cloudland Canyon. It’s huge, it’s beautiful, but it’s teeming with trepidation. If they ever make a film adaptation for Mark Z Danielewski’s House of Leaves, Cloudland Canyon should produce the sound of the ever-expanding house. This is the biggest thing on the planet. Cloudland Canyon, should their discography get too prolific, will knock our planet right off it’s fucking orbital plane.  Fans of Lichens would do well to take notice, as well as folks who like to go get some shit done.

MP3 :::
Cloudland Canyon – You and I

02) HUSH ARBORS – Hush Arbors

From 10.23.08: Hush Arbors, as far as the whole freak folk/New Weird America thing goes (I begrudgingly use this term), has always struck me as the obvious choice for ambassador of the aforementioned movement, as he offers the perfect median point for the disparate sounds found therein. Wood’s take on psychedelic folk demonstrates that it is not necessarily his intent to destroy strong structures, nor is it his intent to play it straightforward and traditional. However, Hush Arbors has gone above and beyond comparison to similar artists. It’s no longer fair to say “this is a great offering from the New Weird America camp,” it’s only befitting to describe this self-titled record as a monumental collection of music that stands up against any album, anywhere. I’m not trying to overhype this really, but Hush Arbors rules so hard. Hush Arbors’ adventurous, wide-ranging sonic paintbrush invokes the past whilst thrusting the very notion of folk rock into future territories. In short, Keith Wood just dropped the type of album that separates the men from the boys…  As a contributing member of Six Organs of Admittance (not to mention Current 93, Wooden Wand, Sunburned Hand of the Man), you certainly hear the familiar Fahey-esque, drone note heavy guitar noodling that defines the Organs’ catalog through each and every track on Hush Arbors. But the riff-heavy structures only accent the music, never existing as the sole focal point. These are well written, melodic, solid songs – simple enough to hum along, layered enough to overload your headphone technology and melt your brain. Also different than Six Organs is that Hush Arbors keeps his weirdness prominent and economical. Whereas contemporaries Ben Chasny and MV & EE like to break down into drone examinations and take lengthy journeys down sunken catacombs, Hush Arbors keeps his ideas contained within fairly concise, brightly colored, accessible songwriting. The album’s rollicking psychedelic folk, with vintage AM radio influences like classic Mayall-style R&B and Byrds-helmed feel good bucolic flourishes, is a shapeshifting exercise in sonically diverse, cosmically dense, warmly welcoming electric folk.  Fuck Chinese Democracy, this is Hush Arbors’ time, as far as I’m concerned.

MP3 :::
Hush Arbors – Gone

01) DEERHUNTER – Microcastle/Weird Era Cont.

From 8.27.08 and 8.29.08: What other album released this year has a real legend behind it?  The secret album, the accidental self-inflicted leak of the secret album, the ensuing drama, the strange tours, the countless articles always having to mention Bradford Cox’s physical appearance – not to mention lineup changes, ample shit-talkin’, and general boobish antics.  Trouble finds Deerhunter more than the visa versa, though.  Yet they emerged victorious with a massive, sprawling statement.

Deerhunter exists in this strange chasm between fuzzy sludge and krautrock. Though they don’t sound like Neu or Faust, per se (except for “Slow Swords” perhaps), “Calvary Scars II” and “Nothing Ever Happens” are fiercely motorik. If you were fighting in a medieval battle, but rode high on unicorns instead of steeds and bested your opponent with candycanes versus lances, 4:03 – 7:31 of “Calvary Scars II / Aux Out” is the best battle cry you could have. This track could also act as triumphant shag music (it is Deerhunter’s deontologial duty to please that booty). Shit is crucial.

I like Cryptograms a lot. I sorta like Flourescent Gray. But goddamn, I did not expect Deerhunter to slay me. Twice! I’ve been twice slain! Microcastle in conjunction with Weird Era Cont. is one of the most significant, important releases of this decade, hands down. Neither one is better than the other – they’re one sick unit.

And I now take umbrage with the idea that an album is either pop or experimental. Though I’d like to think that the Beatles’ last four albums debunked that myth, the label-happy world of the blogosphere has again segregated these term, shall we say, “terms” when reviewing music. It’s lazy journalism. Weird Era Cont. is a flawless example of toying with pop structures and creating a soundscape that’s both catchy and mind-melting. You can hum along or you can rip the bong. Each is equally appropriate, and Deerhunter does this with an increasingly recherche panache.

MP3 :::
Deerhunter – Calvary Scars II / Aux Out

I was really stoked on czechin’ the new Lindsey Buckingham joint the other night, as L-Train and I are both huge Fleetwood Mac fans.  And after listening, we were very sad about it.  Now that Lindsey isn’t scoring blow and beating up his girlfriends, his tunes are slowly waning in smooth rock quality.  I don’t even remember what it sounds like now, my mind has repressed that shit really fast.  My brain’s fast like fast actin’ Tenactin.

So I was in a very bad way before pumping proper on the new Magik Markers jam hive.  It’s a recently dropped, limited release, comically titled EP called Gucci Rapidshare Download, part of Three Lobed Recordings’ Oscillations III series (with artwork by my friend Robert Beatty). Within two minutes, I had endorphins kickin’ in, the spunk came back, and I was in such a good mood, I was ready to rake some of my neighbors’ leaves as a random act of kindness. 

“There Is No Path Which Is Not Straight” is really gorgeous. The Raymond Scott-esque atomic age pinging space sounds replete with rich, jazzy percussion provokes Basil Kirchen at his least chaotic.  The first two minutes submerge you in silky ambient textures, and then it kicks in straight kraut style. The rhythmic punch of this number hits so hard that I’m going to pick up some Icy Hot while waiting in the breadline this evening.  Fluttering, melodic vocal chants and motorik timekeeping act impervious to all the swells of dissonance around (thanks to amplified violins in the vein of Burning Star Core).  This is a remarkable track.

“The Place Where What Has Been Taken Is Returned” is more sparse and gutteral, but certainly structured.  As mentioned, Magik Markers have adopted a serious smokey jazz vibe to their usual brainfuck psychedelic. The beautiful vocal harmonies, melodic tone, slight psych approach, and rock-it-till-it-collapses composition actually evoke sort of a noise-damaged Yo La Tengo or a gentler Bardo Pond.  I don’t think either comparison is a stretch.

This is some the finest output from Magik Markers yet. But you don’t have to take my word for it…

Anyway, you can grip this EP and other good stuff by subscribing to Three Lobed.  Do it!  And pass the hashish, por favor.

MP3 :::
Magik Markers – There is No Path Which is Not Straight
Magik Markers – The Place Where What Has Been Taken Is Return

Mayhaps you’ve noticed that my mailing address listed on the About page has a big ol’ strikethrough across each line. Or mayhaps you’ve noticed that all the Local Action links have completely changed. Astute observers may ascertain that, indeed, Mr. and Mrs. Kenny Bloggins are movin’ on up… or out, or your preferred adverb. We’ve left the Windy City for the River City.

L-Train and I have ballin’ new diggs right in the middle of the young culture mecca of Louisville, the Highlands.  MTV Cribs is on its way to czech out the “boom boom room.”  We’re stoked.

So, what does that mean for this blog? Glad you asked. There’s good and bad news. First, the good. I’ll be able to cover more shows. Besides being easier to get press passes for certain shows, it’s also a lot less of a hassle getting to venues in general. Chicago’s Empty Bottle, for example, is awesome. But it’s in an urban middle-of-nowhere and takes forever to get to. Louisville’s venues are much more accessible, by and large, and I won’t have to bike through three feet of snow to get to them this winter. Now, the bad. Moving is time-consuming, and as the Decibel Tolls is a hobby right now (unless you, uh, advertisers want to up the ante here), I may not be able to provide the quantity of content until I get all my shit on lockdown. It’s also worth noting that my new trade may not have the same “don’t have to do much” component in the job description that I’ve enjoyed over the past year, which allowed me the quality time needed to assess psychedelic rock (and various other weirdness) and upload MP3s. So in summation, better content (probably), but less frequently (maybe).

So to celebrate our relocation, enjoy some choice tracks from my favorite Chicago band (Califone) and my favorite Louisville band (Suuleeeiiint).

MP3:::
Califone – A Chinese Actor
Slint – Carol

Alright, as promised, here’s the full set from My Bloody Valentine’s Aragon performance on Sept. 27.

This bootleg is every bit as clear as the Loom record (and oh junk, I have that too), with an even more balanced mix. As I mentioned in my commentary on the show, you can’t hear the vocals in this recording (with a few exceptions like “Thorn”) because you couldn’t hear the vocals at the show either. That’s the way Kevin wants it, and I shan’t question it. These recordings are in .FLAC format (a super high quality audio file), so you may need to convert them to your preferred file type. I use Switch. Switch features a convenient drag-and-drop GUI, so converting should be easy breezy for you. However, lots of media software supports the .FLAC file extension, so try it out first and keep it in the high quality format if you can. If you have any issues, contact me and I’ll see if I can help.

For extra reading whilst listening (or something to occupy your time while downloading), get a little back story on the arduous time leading up to Loveless, and the nerd fight between Creation Records head Alan McGee and Kevin Shields, here.

Again, thanks for Julian at Roof’s Up and “Alien Rendel,” the mystery recorder of this show. I probably don’t have to mention this, but I will anyway… when downloading bootlegs, remember to support the people to bring it to you. If you’re diggin’ on the show, but don’t own a My Bloody Valentine album (a travesty in and of itself), you should correct that here. I’m fond of the Tremolo EP, myself. And of course, if you like the myriad bootlegs and MP3s you find here (and my general surly and sardonic prose), be a champ – please tell your friends about this blog and link to me if you have a website or blog yourself.

Chicago – Aragon – 9.27.08 Setlist:

I Only Said
When You Sleep
You Never Should
When You Wake (You’re Still in a Dream)
Cigarette In Your Bed
Come In Alone
Only Shallow
Thorn
Nothing Much To Lose
To Here Knows When
Slow
Soon
Feed Me With Your Kiss
You Made Me Realise / Holocaust Section

ZIP :::
My Bloody Valentine – Chicago, 9.27.08 (approx. 485 Mb)

MP3 :::
My Bloody Valentine – You Never Should (Live in Chicago)
My Bloody Valentine – Soon (Live in Chicago)