By Lindsay Trapnell
Published on venuszine.com: February 27th, 2010 | 11:45am

3.5 out of 5

By Lindsay Trapnell
Published in Venus Zine

Vivian Girls have been crowned and cursed with buzz band status since emerging on the scene over a year ago. Their imperfect, lo-fi garage rock may not be for everyone, but when the first pressing of your debut album sells out in ten days, detractors tend to become louder in their opposition.

Not that they care. Armed with punk attitude and proud of their DIY aesthetic (some songs were recorded in one take), the band creates an exhilarating racket on their follow-up Everything is Wrong. Immediate and slightly distorted, the songs transport you to a dingy basement or claustrophobic punk club, beside them as they plow through hook and chorus.

A single fuzzy guitar note quickly followed by the crack of drum sticks counting off a rapid tempo opens the record, and just like that you’re off, either enjoying the ride or screaming to get off. At a swift 37 minutes, it’s a whirlwind spin despite lasting almost twice as long as their first record.

The album proves that they can still churn out driving 2-minute punk songs, like the (ironically) joyous “I Have No Fun,” but it’s the slower, longer tracks that make a stronger impression. Overall, the record feels moodier and more textured than their last.

The 60s girl-group influence shines through on “Can’t Get Over You” in both subject – losing and longing for your man – and its sweet back-up harmonies. It also features a surf guitar riff that’s guaranteed to stick in your head.

“When everything goes wrong, will you sit around and miss me when I’m gone?” Cassie Ramone sings on “When I’m Gone.” Her question, in the form of a plea, cuts straight through the noisy guitars and right to the heart.

Lykke Li - Youth Novels

Youth Novels is an apt title for Lykke Li’s debut album. Like a Swedish Judy Blume, she spins tales of young love, lust, heartbreak, and alienation — hallmarks of the rocky transition into young adulthood. The album is synth-heavy, but Li infuses it with her rich personality, adding depth and intimacy to what could otherwise have ended up as over-processed pop. Much credit is also due to producers Björn Yttling (of Peter Bjorn and John) and Lasse Marten, who avoid overly slick production and pull out a trove of unconventional instruments to add an organic and unexpected element.

“Love is the symphony / Sing it with me,” Lykke Li pleads on breathy opener “Melodies & Desires.” While it’s a gutsy move to begin the album with an atmospheric chapter (her word for song), one that showcases lyrics spoken rather than sung, the track doesn’t make a strong case for accepting her invitation. Any reluctance to join her musical journey soon evaporates with the tribal percussion and simple bass line hook that opens the memorable “Dance, Dance, Dance.” Lykke Li’s voice — girly sweet with a raspy edge — is a bit jarring initially, but soon proves to be both unique and mesmerizing. Other album highlights include singles “I’m Good, I’m Gone,” a spunky song inspired by Lee Dorsey’s “Working In a Coal Mine” and the calypso-flavored “Little Bit.” Li possesses an uncanny talent for pairing simple, even repetitive, lyrics with defiantly catchy hooks that knock around your head for days. “Tonight” features the repeated refrain “Don’t you let me go / Let me go tonight,” sung with increasing emotion and urgency over a steady bongo beat with piano, organ, and bells that swell then disappear — leaving only her fragile plea.

Much like Lykke Li herself, who displays dewy vulnerability, coy flirtation, and strong-willed independence, Youth Novels is full of intriguing contradictions: One minute it boasts a dance beat straight out of a European discotheque, another it tenderly evokes Spanish flamenco. Throw in some Bossa and soul, and you’ve got one eclectic pot of influences. And just when you think it’s simply an enjoyable dance-pop album, the 22-year-old flashes an unconventional sophistication that catches you off guard and announces that she’s not to be underestimated.

Wolf Parade - At Mount Zoomer

“Allow me to play the voyager,” pleads singer/keyboardist Spencer Krug in “Bang Your Drum.” If you’re up for the 46-minute ride, Krug and his band mates will take you on an alternately mythical and modern journey from the desert to the East Coast in their sophomore release, At Mount Zoomer.

Wolf Parade set the bar high with their lauded 2005 debut, Apologies to the Queen Mary. At Mount Zoomer lacks the immediacy of their debut, but what it lacks in instant appeal, it makes up for in sonic layers that continue to reveal themselves with repeated play. If Apologies was the swaggering, hormonal teenager, then Mount Zoomer is the mature, confident adult it has become.

Krug and guitarist Dan Boeckner split songwriting and vocal duties again, but it feels more collaborative and cohesive this time around. Opener “Soldier’s Grin” features a simple, catchy guitar riff, driving drumbeat and organ. As Boeckner sings “In my head is a city at night,” the dense instrumentation magnifies his inner turmoil. The trippy “Call it a Ritual” pairs a galloping drum and keyboard rhythm with spacey guitar, reverb, and layered, haunting vocals by Krug. You can hear the 70s rock influence, especially on the Krug tracks.

The absence of home is a recurring theme, which makes sense considering the amount of time these multi-band musicians spend away from their Montreal base. “We are not at home” becomes a plaintive mantra sung by Boeckner in the poppy, keys-driven “Language City.” In “Bang Your Drum,” Krug questions, “Do they beat that drum to get you back home or do they beat it to keep you away?”.

Mt. Zoomer is a solid record, complex and timeless, especially compared to the more modern sounding Apologies. Closer “Kissing the Beehive” is perhaps the best evidence of their rock n’ roll prowess. It’s a slow starter that continues to build and sprawl until it’s a rollicking, twisting, near eleven-minute epic. The song perfectly captures the band’s rare ability to be simultaneously loose and melodic.

If you had any doubts about Wolf Parade’s staying power, At Mount Zoomer should put them to rest.

Princeton - Bloomsbury

Who knew that tales of suicide, failure, and jealousy among a group of dead writers could be so catchy? The members of Princeton earn their Ivy League moniker by using the Bloomsbury Group as inspiration for their second EP. Each song on the four-track Bloomsbury focuses on a member of the early 20th century literary/intellectual/artist collective: Virginia Woolf, John Maynard Keynes, Leonard Woolf and Lytton Strachey.

Sure, this might sound a little pretentious, or, given that the band is fronted by young, shaggy-haired twins, too reminiscent of Dead Poets Society. But in our dumbed down celebrity circus culture, a dose of brazen intellectualism and literary love can’t hurt. And more importantly, Bloomsbury is a solid, well-crafted pop album.

With its lilting vocals, stop-start rhythm and Afro-pop percussion, opener “The Waves” brings to mind fellow rock literati Vampire Weekend. It’s a strong opening track that prompts you to tap along on your steering wheel or add your own handclaps. “Ms. Bentwich” fixes its narrative on the secretary that fell in love with the allegedly homosexual Keynes. The song’s pastoral tone is quickly established with chirping birds and banjo. Floating flute melodies are grounded by a softly driving rhythm, while string plucking shades the tragic tale with a proper sense of melancholy. Princeton’s talent for arrangement and quirky instrumentation is most apparent on “Leonard Woolf.” A banjo and piano tinkling accompanies the lament of Leonard’s “Dusty pages no one read.” If the flourish of bells and horns don’t lift his spirit, they offer up these words of solace to the overshadowed writer, “Your books will one day speak to me/And when they do, we’ll run outside/And tell your wife.”

At thirteen minutes, the EP of poppy gems flies by. They may provoke comparison to Glaswegians Belle and Sebastian and sing of the English countryside, but the brothers Kiven and drummer Ben Usen hail from Eagle Rock, California. Perhaps it’s their sunny surroundings that imbue these lyrically sad songs with such buoyant melodies.

UNKLE - End Titles… Stories For Film

James Lavelle, the mastermind behind the ever-changing musical outfit UNKLE, deems End Titles…Stories For Film, “not a new album in the usual sense, but new music that has been inspired by the moving image.” Much of UNKLE’s previous output had a cinematic feel — so this concept album isn’t out of their musical comfort zone. For a prime example of UNKLE’s music used as a canvas for beautiful imagery, see the 1998 video for “Rabbit In Your Headlights,” directed by Jonathan Glazer.

Little is as stirring as when music and film perfectly integrate, adding depth and emotion to both sound and image. End Titles isn’t a score to a specific film, yet the music feels thin on its own, and I couldn’t help but think about its greater potential with accompanying visuals. A few of the songs on End Titles were culled from visual sources. Two of the strongest tracks on the album — the menacing “Blade In the Back” and the meditative, seven-minute “Heaven” — are featured in Odyssey In Rome, a documentary about director Abel Ferrara (whose vocals are featured on the album), and “Heaven” also appears in the Spike Jonze–directed skate video, Fully Flared.

As a whole, the album is moody, dark, and foreboding: A fitting soundtrack for flying over a city at night, staring bleary-eyed at the city lights below — my experience when I first listened to it. “Cut Me Loose” is the kind of atmospheric number that UNKLE excels at, featuring a driving bass drum beat and dramatic crescendos. As is custom with UNKLE, a slew of musical collaborators appear on the album. The Black Mountain–featuring “Clouds” works spooky magic with pulsating guitar, reverb, and haunting, repetitive vocals; but “Chemical,” featuring Josh Homme of Queens Of the Stone Age, collapses under its own overwrought weight.

It’s been tough for UNKLE to reach the heights of their debut, Psyence Fiction (Lavelle’s collaboration with DJ Shadow and numerous guest stars), and again, this effort falls short. While the album certainly shows off Lavelle and company’s talent for film composition, the music doesn’t prove itself on its own merits as a cohesive, complete album. Like a meandering movie that could’ve used a tougher editor, End Stories doesn’t sustain interest for the duration.

Pierre de Reeder - The Way That It Was

Pierre de Reeder joins in the footsteps of his fellow Rilo Kiley band members Blake Sennett and Jenny Lewis with the release of his solo album, The Way That It Was. Rilo Kiley may be getting bigger in both audience and sound, but de Reeder goes in a decidedly different direction — he keeps it simple and low-key for his first independent foray, relying heavily on acoustic guitar and subtle instrumentation. The album has a classic, timeless feel, but doesn’t make a particularly strong impression.

The songs are mellow and unhurried, which may also describe de Reeder’s style, considering the album was written over the span of five years. De Reeder shares production duties with Dave Trumfio (Wilco, Built to Spill), and displays his versatile musical chops by playing a majority of the instruments on the album. The title track is a sweetly sung rumination on the carefree days of youth, with bright horns marking a steady, head-bobbing beat. De Reeder possesses a soothing croon that works well on plaintive numbers such as “Where I’m Coming From,” while “Never Thought” is twangy, loose, and one of the few songs that features a full backing band.

“Not How I Believe” fittingly closes out the album with a chorus of family and friends (who happen to comprise an indie all-star cast, including fellow Rilo members, Johnathan Rice, Morgan Nagler of Whispertown2000, and Jake Bellows of Neva Dinova) singing a creed we could all live by: “Everyday, have a little bit of modesty / And a little more honesty.” Based on the album’s content and de Reeder’s affable, reliable persona in Rilo, the musician takes his own advice to heart.

The Way That It Was is a warm, nostalgic look back through the years, but it lacks the emotional and musical peaks and valleys equivalent of a life well lived. Rather, it strikes a steady, even note. It’s a pleasant enough note — melodic and gentle — but perhaps de Reeder should have taken his own band’s advice to be “more adventurous.”

Jenny Lewis - Acid Tongue

Jenny Lewis wears many hats. Child actress, solo singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, and front woman of Rilo Kiley, she is a chameleon and born performer. In support of her recent release Acid Tongue, her literal hat of choice is a fedora, looking and sounding like she came out of the late 1960s Laurel Canyon scene. In that spirit, she has gathered her musician friends to create a loose and lively album that evokes the past without dripping it in nostalgic sentiment.

Acid Tongue spans numerous genres in its 46 minutes, pulling from a wide range of influences, past and present. Lewis channels Jerry Lee Lewis in the high-energy, bluesy tale of matricide “Jack Killed Mom”, while the bittersweet ballad “Trying My Best to Love You” evokes early Carly Simon. Other notable tracks include “The Next Messiah”, an epic three-part medley and “Carpetbaggers,” a spirited, country-flavored duet with Elvis Costello. For all the musical stretching on the album, the simple, acoustic, first-person narrative title track leaves the most lasting impression. You feel her rueful disappointment when she sings, “You know I’m a liar” and her weariness with the echoed chorus, “It just made me tired.” But the journey doesn’t end there. The final refrain, “Let’s build ourselves a fire” sparks hope for the next chapter of Ms. Lewis’ evolving story.

El Perro del Mar - From the Valley to the Stars

For her sophomore stateside release, Swedish musician Sarah Assbring, known as El Perro del Mar, follows the adage “less is more.” Self-recorded in her home, the album is meditative and intimate. Intended or not, “From the Valley to the Stars” acts as a complementary invert to her 2006 self-titled debut. While that album contained sad songs in a sweet pop coating, this collection consists of hopeful yet slow, plaintive songs devoid of glossy sheen. There’s still a hint of the 1960s girl-group influence, but mostly the songs are stripped of that layered sound, leaving them as delicate and vulnerable as Assbring’s voice.

It’s a cohesive album, with 16 tracks swirling around the concept of heaven and redemption. With song titles like “Glory to the World” and “You Belong to the Sky Now”, and the Baroque-inspired cover art, it appears that El Perro del Mar has gone the way of the church hymnal. While the simplistic beauty of religious hymns are undeniably an influence, Assbring seems determined to create her own modern, humanistic versions replete with not only a church organ and a choir, but also horns, piano, strings and dampened drums.

Many songs are framed around a repetitive hook or vocal refrain. “Jubilee” and “jubilation” are the only words sung in the opener “Jubilee” while “Don’t cast away your inner island” becomes a mantra sung over a steady, droning organ on “Inner Island.” The effect can be pleasantly trance-like, or grating if you’re not in the mood. You might find your attention waning at times, but Assbring changes it up just enough to keep you attuned, whether it’s a catchy flute hook on “Glory to the World” or the positively upbeat number “Somebody’s Baby.” While the album is not as immediately charming or catchy as her previous outing, the hushed vocals and spare arrangements cast quite a captivating spell.

Joan of Arc - Boo Human

Safe is not a word you would use to describe Chicago-based band Joan of Arc. An evolving group of musicians helmed by the enigmatic Tim Kinsella for over ten years, the only constant in the band (besides Kinsella) has been its experimentation and reinvention. “Boo Human” doesn’t find them settling down or finding a specific sound to mine. In fact, the record itself is an experiment of sorts. Kinsella booked a week of studio time and posted a sign-up sheet allowing musicians to pop in the studio when they were available. The resulting record is a bit of a mish-mash; at times shining while alternately missing the mark.

The record begins with promise. Opener “Shown and Told” is a haunting, acoustic ballad with intimate vocals. It’s followed by “Laughter Reflected Back”, a jazz inflected track with a staccato rhythm. Its short, catchy hook is broken up by just enough experimental flourishes to keep it fresh. Just Unpack Or Unpack follows the same mode, with added screeching and squealing organs and discordant sounds that create a chaotic melody. The major bump in the road is “9/11 2”, an earnest song that begins with Kinsella’s growling, angst-ridden voice (a stylistic departure) against a backdrop of heavy strings, lending an overdramatic feel to a song that feels contrived and out of place.
The album as a whole can be described as diverse, but many of the songs rely on a similar structure of a repetitive, stop-start hook as a backdrop for Kinsella’s sometimes grating voice. Tonally the record jumps around, but the most consistent strength lies in the musicians’ impressive mastery of their instruments. And while I applaud the attempt at a range of styles, the lack of both direction and cohesiveness ultimately weakens the album’s punch.