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After much anticipation from fans he’s picked up on Myspace or since playing the rather lovable Ceth in John Cameron Mitchell’s raunchy and romantic Shortbus, Jay Brannan’s debut album is finally available. Young, gay, attractive, and ambitious, Brannan’s appropriately titled Goddamned is a mix of humor and misery like a punchy and potent alcoholic drink.  Brannan’s somewhat sardonic approach to solving and speaking of everyday problems or troublesome situations via conversational lyrics is at the forefront of every barebones track. Since one won’t find so much as a drum on the record, it’s lucky for us that Brannan’s voice is sweet and listenable, and that his lyrics, though at times incredibly dense (he could use a bit more breathing room in between verses or individual lines), are quirky enough to cling to. |
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What they call shoegazing, with slightly psychedelic undertones, should be enough to describe Holler, Wild Rose!. Ambient rock with a lot of echoing voices and instruments, and a guitar that has submitted its sound to the effects pedal are the main characteristics of the band. John Mosloskie’s vocals are a slightly lower pitch, though otherwise very similar to those of Coldplay’s Chris Martin. Through some notes he is almost indistinguishable from Thom Yorke,  but overall, lacks the emotional involvement of Yorke vocals. The lyrics to those vocals have the same affect, being pretty in some places while never reaching the “beautiful” as they remain to abstract to solidify a feeling. As with some other shoegazing and ambient rock bands, Holler, Wild Rose!’s instrumentation mostly serves to reinforce the vocals or carry out the melody, however, the band does make some interesting choices when they break from those roles. The title track is a powerful song, though largely reliant on driving harmonies. On the bridges during “Theif in our Bed,” one of the guitarists strums out an effect that sounds like a muffled banjo. On “Sun Vines,” my favorite song on the album, there is a significant and distinguishable melody and interesting vocal fluctuations. To contrast the echoing melody, the band adds whistling and a xylophone-like synthesizer to the track, making “Sun Vines” the most well rounded, finished, and distinct piece on the album. Holler, Wild Rose! Is both troublesome and promising. Their songs range from the simply powerful to the instrumentally complex, and they are worth a listen, if not a few listens. -Josh Fish |
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The Brooklyn via Russia, Olga Bell, sounds nothing like you’d expect from her pop songstress looks. This is another one to file under: Don’t judge a book by its cover. She has the range of Bjork or a Shara Worden and often makes you wonder if she knows how to control the volume of her voice, gently serenading you one minute  and nearly blowing your eardrum out the next. Those things make her an interesting bag of tricks and her 6 song EP a hint of what she is capable of. With spacey keyboards and infectious claps “Echinacea” is a nice introduction. Her quirky lyrics like, “I looked to the sun/ But it just makes me sneeze/And no one would bless me,” are cutesy (maybe too much for some), but catchy. “Expanding File” is a drum and keyboard dance song highlighted by the layering of her own vocals, which she does throughout the album. On “Brown Bear” you will want to adjust the volume as she begins in a whisper, but I advise you not to. Halfway through things get very loud as she breaks into a scream about clouds shaped like bears. Although her voice along with the keyboard is pretty, “Miner” doesn’t stand up alongside the other songs. But with “Chunk” she brings us back to her magical little world filled with dreamy keyboards and a slow but steady drumbeat, she sweetly talks about “change” in all senses of the word. The choir at the end of the song help build it to mini-anthem status, but it is Bell’s voice as she takes out with a whisper that is always the focus. - Shannon Carlin
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Since Von and Agaetis Byrjun, Sigur Rós has become increasingly...well, poppy. That's not to say that they're yet ready for radio waves (thank God), but their once severely wistful and sorrow-inducing sound has significantly brightened up. On earlier albums, an icier Sigur Rós icier evoked images of dark and lonely mountainous terrain; now, their music personifies verdant expanses and sunny skies. Takk... had moments of euphoric folk rock and lovely patterns of twinkling chimes and bells; Med Sud I Eyrum Vid Spilum Endalaust carries on in the same gleeful spirit, as if drenched in pure golden sunlight. Of course, their instrumentation is precise, experimental, as well as free-flowing. It's just that their songs now seem to serve a different purpose. "Gobbledigook" begins us on the path toward discovering the brighter side of Sigur Rós. Sounding like a combination of Animal Collective, Yes, and psychedlic folk-rock bands of the '60s, the song is one long and intense moment of joy and freedom, as collective voices scatter and become ingrained within abundant percussion. "Inní Mér Syngur Vitleysingur" is likewise joyful, short and catchy in a brimming and fruitful Polyphonic Spree fashion. "Festival," on the other hand, is both the album's longest track (at 9 minutes and 26 seconds) and it's most ambient, sounding very much like "Untitled 6" from ( ) and harking back to lengthy soundscapes of Sigur Rós' past. The song changes shape halfway through and expands in wide waves, taking on a multitude of instruments and forming a grand composition. Following this, the title track has a swift piano at the core of its warm melody and whimsical undulations. "Ara Batur" also opens with a soft and peaceful piano, as John Thor Birgisson's instantly recognizable voice, fluttering and furtively emotive, carries us through Icelandic lyrics. The wonderful thing about Sigur Ros is that they can cross any language barriers because their music carries the song's emotional and cerebral weight without English-speaking listeners needing to comprehend or analyze the words. The perfect example of this ability occurs on ( ), where Birgisson sings made-up words from a fabricated language, yet the album manages to convey complex and relatable emotions, perhaps in an even more truthful and unadultered fashion. Regardless of literal "meaning," "Ara Batur" is majestic, like a long poem in musical form, opening up to include vast orchestral movements and sweeping choral voices. It becomes an almost spiritual experience. "Illgresi," on the other hand, is simple and plainly organic, with an acoustic guitar. The microphone picks up every slide on the guitar neck, and we, as listeners, feel closer than ever to the otherwise strange, distant, and often grandiose Sigur Rós. -Amy Dupcak |
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If you're not paying attention to the lyrics, you probably think Beridox is just another hardcore rapper. His beats hit hard and he delivers like a bombardier, but this Philly MC is taking a more evangelical path than most. His “Holy Hip-Hop,” as he calls it, is better than anything else I've heard today. I'm not the biggest fan of Jesus Christ, but Beridox has skills...and he never once mentions his phat new rims. -Kyle Timlin |
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At this point, Coldplay can sell records and tickets no matter what they do creatively. Fortunately, Viva La Vida, produced be legendary Brian Eno, is worthy of critical praise and reveals Coldplay's intentions to remain deserving of their worldwide popularity. True to form and expectation, the band's fourth album is musically resplendent and emotionally stirring, at times joyful and other times reveling in poetic melancholy, sometimes within the framework and lyrics of the same song. Encompassing themes of death and loneliness, as well as hope and renewal, the album is fluid, as their work tends to be. More along the lines of 2002's A Rush of Blood to the Head than their last album, X & Y, which was a little too soft, lovey-dovey and basically unexciting, Viva La Vida is full of life and love in ways that are sincere and heartfelt without being sappy. Avoiding the obvious route of songs like X & Y's "Fix You," the album inspires a range of emotions by way of prominent, continuing strings and unexpected twists and turns that are perhaps Eno's most essential contribution to Coldplay's already defined sound. In all honesty, every song here is a gem. The album beings the way it ends, implying a conceptual approach that is ideal for repeat plays, as it loops back upon itself. "Life in Technicolor" opens Viva La Vida in much the way "Don't Panic" introduced us to Coldplay on Parachutes, bleeding seamlessly into "Cemeteries of London," which is charmingly bright and instrumentally lush, and encompassing hints of a deeper sadness. Choral shouts of "La la la la" give the song a sing-along feeling, as one conjurs up an image of unsettled ghosts wandering London graves together. "Lost" is musically and lyrically optimistic, and the band seems to have stepped up their percussion to make their overall sound more intense and interesting, burying Chris Martin's tremulous vocals (and whimsical backing voices) deeper into the swirling, richer-than-ever instrumentation. The piano, however, is still an essential element, especially on "42," which begins in a stripped-down fashion like old times, and is soon accompanied by gentle strings as Martin sings, "Those that are dead are not dead, they're just living in my head." Once you've settled your ears into the ballad, the strings pick up the pace and the song becomes an orchestral-meets-rock onrush. Martin emphatically sings, "You thought you might be a ghost/ You didn't get to heaven, but you made it close" as an electric guitar takes center stage, before the song slips back down to the piano. "Lover in Japan / Reign of Love" is melodically John Lennon-esque and brilliantly composed, seemingly suspended with a reverberating glaze of guitars, cheerful piano, and surface-level baseline. The seven-minute "Yes" is the album's most epic and tells the story of an unraveling, as Martin's voice rises every time he sings, "I'm just so tired of this loneliness," and as violins run free until the track changes course and becomes noisier than expected. The title track and first single is typical Brit-pop Coldplay with a more profound underlying story (perhaps in conjunction with their album cover art), perfectly anthemic for large-scale shows and apparently commercials, though it shines with a charisma that far exceeds most commercial-ready songs. Their second single, "Violet Hill," which immediately follows "Viva La Vida" is dark and haunting, much the way "Trouble" followed "Yellow" on Parachutes. Hard-edged, distortion-heavy and rather loud, "Violet Hill" teems with anxiety as Martin begs, "If you love me, won't you let me know?" In typical Coldplay fashion, the song quiets down to the piano again, ending on a soft and sadly romantic note. Likewise, the closing track, "Death And All His Friends" begins in a hushed and delicate fashion, with the piano balancing Martin's voice. Similar to the closing track "Amsterdam" on A Rush of Blood to the Head, it rises and elevates to achieve an emotional effect and connect even more closely to listeners, who cannot react passively at moments like this. Like a surreal watercolor painting or perhaps a field of wild and unusual flowers, Viva La Vida leaves you feeling not quite calm, not quite secure, but certainly enraptured. -Amy Dupcak |
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