Evan Sherman is the best friend I have ever had in my entire life. I love him like a brother and he is included in most of my best memories. I was probably about four years old when he moved in next door and we bonded over a mutual respect for the endless possibilities of our combined collection of Ghostbusters toys. With time, our friendship evolved to support other interests.

For the next eleven years or so, we spent nearly every afternoon, every weekend and the infinite days of Summer together but in my reminiscences it seems it is usually Fall. The air smells cool and crisp with the wafting ashy memoirs of smoky fireplaces through distant chimneys in homes filled with families just like ours; the air was just cold enough to sting the skin around your nose yet just warm enough that you were able to feel safe and comfortable donning only a light jacket. As we ran back and forth between our yards enacting innumerable fantastic scenarios, our footsteps were accentuated by the crunch of the golden leaves. The entire world seemed to be preparing for a respite and our youthful energy cut through it with a starkly contrasting fervor. Our days went on forever as we matured conjunctively.

It is difficult to determine when our interests turned to music. It had always been a part of our lives both subtly and perceptibly. Many of our afternoons were spent on my front porch drawing comic books while my Sony portable CD player reliably gave us songs to fill in the spaces between conversations. When inevitable gusts of wind mockingly stole our loose papers, the songs served as a soundtrack to the impromptu twirling dances which must be performed in order to properly capture the fugitives. Despite these clearly musical influences, I do not recall actually discussing music until much later.

While in middle school my ears were wide open to the power of music; I was in seventh grade when I first bought OK Computer by Radiohead. I knew it was a special album. The unapologetically dramatic and paranoid desperation appealed greatly to my newly teenaged mindset. I greatly wanted to share this discovery with Evan but for some reason which to this day, I cannot fathom, I decided that the best song to win him over with was “Fitter, Happier”: an interlude track in which a computer voice made a series of non-sequitur statements which serve as a disturbing anti-technology protest. Suffice it to say, he was not immediately impressed. Evan was a year younger than me and it was not long before I had reached High School and he was still in Junior High causing our time together to wane.

My interests in Radiohead continued to grow as I fell in love with The Bends and came to enjoy it even more than OK Computer. Sometime during ninth grade, I made a mix-tape for Evan that included the song “My Iron Lung” and as I recall, it really got him excited about the band. He quickly absorbed both albums and we discussed Radiohead excitedly as a means of spending more time together. Napster was a new phenomenon and it was suddenly really easy to find music; this inspired us to pick out songs we had always wanted to hear and wait about an hour for each one to download to my parents’ computer. It was like a miracle. By the time news began to spread about a new Radiohead album which would not have any singles or music videos, we each made the decision not to seek out any of the songs before the album was released. It seemed it would be better to experience the record in its pure form.

In October of tenth grade, I was rehearsing for a production of Dracula at a local community theatre when the new Radiohead album came out. My parents were kind enough to stop at the local independent music store, ‘Tunes’, on the way home so that I could make my purchase. When I looked up at the wall of new releases, it took me a few minutes to figure out what I was looking for because the word ‘Radiohead’ was very small on the album cover and I had yet to learn the album’s mysterious title: Kid A. I bought it and sat in the backseat of my parents’ car. I peeled off the plastic and wrestled off the pointless title sticker on the top before carefully removing the disc and placing it into my Discman. I pulled my headphones over my half-frozen ears before pushing ‘play’. The sounds I was about to hear would both strengthen my friendship with Evan and change my perception of music forever.

PART 2 COMING SOON…

After joining Grizzly Bear, touring with them, and then recording what would become their “break-through” album Yellow House, Daniel Rossen’s former band Department of Eagles seemed to be sliding by the wayside after a failed recording session that became known as the “January Sessions.” Little hope remained amongst the two members. That hope, according to Nicolaus, was the song “Balmy Night,” a song that was recorded at the end of the “January Sessions” and eventually showed up on their second release In Ear Park. “Balmy Night” stuck as a constant reminder that the ideas, talent, and resources were there for them to keep the dream of a fully realized DOE record alive. This delicately structured time in the band’s history is on display in the release of the accumulation of the material surrounding and filling the “January Sessions,” now titled Archive 2003-2006.

Although Archive is a rough collection of material pulled together in album form, it somehow coalesces into a whole easier then one would expect. Sloppy and disjointed moments are left to arrange themselves in the outskirts of the albums free-form, experimental “Practice Room Sketch” pieces. These pieces allow for this collection to properly represent the birthing of DOE’s stylistic change towards thoughtful, endearing, and beautiful song structures with equally poignant vocal accompaniments. All of the pieces are of shorter time lengths and feel like a more folksy Will Cullen Hart experiment, like his “Green Typewriter” suites on Music from the Unrealized Film Script, Dusk at Cubist Castle or his “Black Foliage Animation” collages on Black Foliage: Animation Music Volume One. These pieces are an experiment, a fleshing out of budding ideas and creativity; they represent the process and growth of their evolving sound, and they are the perfect compliment to the fully realized songs that make up the rest of the album.

Fred Nicolaus stated that Daniel seemed to be striving for a “sophisticated, dark Americana” in his “Practice Room Sketch” pieces, and that realization comes to fruition within the remaining, full-fledged songs. There is a dark and somewhat creepy feeling that lingers around the skeletal structures of these songs; wispy and formless presences accompany the songs as they stretch and retract, as they inhale and exhale. I can’t help thinking that this is the music that should’ve been playing in the bar scenes of The Shining. A dusty, old-timey, distorted slice of a haunted American past reverberates, pervades, and prevails, echoing through time. “While We’re Young,” “Flip,” and the Elliott Smith-y “Brightest Minds” are the more upbeat, dance-like songs that chug along like a possessed locomotive, or a terrorized train, while “Deadly Disclosure,” “Grand Army Plaza,” and the beautiful “Golden Apple” sift and flowingly expatiate into the hazy, darkened, surrounding atmosphere. This collection of material grows beyond it’s preconceived restrictive notions and develops into a harmoniously structured album that flows in a linear progression as opposed to a disjointed and choppy mixture of loose ends.

My favorite thing about the underground music scene during the 1980s is the regional rosters which developed within independent labels. Many cities had a distinctive sound and scene which locals were proud and passionate about. Being a music fan during the mid to late 1990s did not have the same impact because the internet made the world a much smaller place and it became a lot easier to access independent music regardless of where it came from.

I grew up in New Jersey and, largely in reverence toward the earlier label-based scenes, have always felt an extra bit of passion for bands that come from the area. I still feel a tinge of excitement when I discover a great band and find out that they are from my home state and make no mistake about it: Titus Andronicus is a great band.

When Pitchfork named The Monitor ‘best new music’ earlier this year, I had never heard of Titus Andronicus. I listened to a few clips but nothing stood out to me and they dropped off my radar. When they were announced as a band at this year’s Pitchfork Music Festival, I dutifully picked up a copy of their album but did not spend very much time with it. I missed their performance at the festival but was interested to read article after article extolling great compliments upon their performance. A few weeks later, I saw a video of their festival performance of “A More Perfect Union” on Pitchfork.tv and was immediately enthralled by the infectious passion and energy it contained.

Over the next three days or so, I listened to The Monitor in its entirety about five times. It is incredibly addictive and undeniably fun. I feel a clear Springsteen influence mixed with a love for punk and 80’s American Indie.

> No, I never wanted to change the world, but I’m looking for a new New Jersey
Because tramps like us, baby, we were born to die

The album, in fact, has a very American feel in general probably because of the Civil War theme but regardless of how it got there: rocking out to it is coupled with an added sense of patriotism.

Despite my apprehension towards using the word ‘passion’ so many times in this review, it is so exceptionally appropriate that I cannot avoid it. This album has soaring passionate melodies, passionately chanted chorus and unhinged vocals which just serve to amplify the fervor. It does not let up at any point during the album, Titus Andronicus seem to mean everything they say and they want you to know it.

The historical theme has caused a few critics to compare this album to the untouchable In the Aeroplane Over the Sea but I personally find this comparison pretty weak and fairly lazy. What The Monitor achieves is completely different in scope and, for that matter, execution. The record is a battle cry:

The enemy is everywhere
But no one seems to be worried or care
That the enemy is everywhere

Though I am not yet one hundred percent sure what the battle is for, I look forward to listening more so that I can find out.

During the days of my deviously energetic youth, I sought music that complimented my heightened emotions; I searched for music that propelled and alleviated everyday confusions and epiphanies. Along with various other forms of music, the genre of metal has always held a special place in my arsenal of music knowledge. Growing up in South Jersey, I was surrounded by a budding “metalcore” scene. Although most diehard fans of metal tend to dismiss this and other new forms of metal, metalcore introduced to me the vast expansiveness of all areas of metal, and for that I am thankful. If it wasn’t for bands like Converge, Dillinger Escape Plan, and Between the Buried and Me, I most likely wouldn’t be able to appreciate the other forms of metal that I love to this day.

Needless to say, I had many friends who had metal bands, and I was constantly making an effort to attend their live shows. I grew up loving local bands like Memoir, Blue Eyes Burn Like Fire, Behind the Sun, and Bodies in the Gears of the Apparatus. I look fondly on these memories now and am happy that I was introduced to metal through this particular entrance. The bands that have pushed through, have done so by continually creating great works of art in the genre by infusing other aspects of metal with their own. Many people don’t like this shift in style and dismiss it, while others accept the change and follow along. Between the Buried and Me, one of the first bands I was introduced to by one of my good friends Shaun, instantly became one of my favorite bands of all time. They’re an exceptionally talented group of musicians that revel in the ability to create confusion with unpredictability while simultaneously developing a sense of comfort with soothing melodies. A shift occurred in the musical output of the band when they released Colors, their fourth LP and one hell of a milestone in metal.

I remember being one of those who dismissed the change; in fact, I couldn’t get passed their second release The Silent Circus, which is still one of the greatest metal albums ever, for me. But, eventually I grew beyond the distinctions I held and fell deep into the trance created by a band evolving before my ears. Repeated listens were a must in order to solidify a mental picture of the flow of the album. Over and over again I was confronted by the question: What just happened? A certain elegance is constructed and then deconstructed only to be partially reassembled and then completely destroyed. There are harsh and abrasive moments that fluidly flourish and bloom into hypnotically soaring refrains. Colors is an epic album that does not falter in the presence of it’s own greatness; it does not disappoint in the confrontation of expectations created during the listening process. Colors not only reignited the love of my metal roots, but it also shows that the originators of the metalcore scene are still the only one’s who can propel it. Converge, The Dillinger Escape Plan, and Between the Buried and Me are still releasing great albums that challenge preconceptions and doubtful thinking.

I have never gone to a music festival of any kind. I often see bands play live but the prospect of watching performance after performance while surrounded by sweaty, intoxicated people never seemed appealing. This being said, I have spent the last few years watching the live broadcast of the Pitchfork Music Festival from my home and somehow wishing I was there.

A few months ago, when the line-up was announced for the 2010 Pitchfork festival, I was impressed. It seemed really solid with stand-outs like Beach House and Panda Bear; then I got to the bottom of the list and noticed the word ‘Pavement’ and was immediately floored. Pavement has been one of my favorite bands for many years and I never thought I would get to see them live. I had gone to the Pixies reunion tour in 2003 and I knew that missing Pavement would be a huge disappointment so I immediately bought two tickets. On Wednesday of last week, I found myself hitting the road to make my way from South West Florida to Chicago.

The drive went by pretty quickly and uneventfully with the exception of the creepy motel I stayed the night in while stopped in Orlinda, Tennessee. It was chosen by the gentleman who was driving up with me (he was on a strict budget). The lodge was located next to an abandoned restaurant and an abandoned gas station which had a sign pricing diesel at 97 cents a gallon. The front desk was operated by two Indian women watching Indian soap operas on a tattered couch which also contained two wool socks, a knife and a giant jar of Vaseline. The amazing array of patterns and colors contained within the room’s décor was a bit disorienting but I woke up alive and rested and continued on my way.

After arriving in Chicago, I visited a friend before returning to my hotel to get some of my graduate work done. I picked up my significant other from the airport on Friday afternoon and we walked over to the festival at about 5pm because I wanted to see Liars. I have to say that I am so fortunate to have had her with me and even though she was rarely familiar with the bands I wanted to see, she came along cheerfully and enthusiastically. Now if you are a person like me for whom a festival never sounded like fun, the secret to a great time is to pick a handful of bands that you do not want to miss each day and make sure to see them. That way you are never there so long that you get overly grouchy and ruin the day and EVERYTHING you see will blow your mind. Sunday was the only day we were there for the entire festival and it was REALLY hot outside.

Friday was a perfect start to the festival. By the time we got there it was already cooling off outside and it was not nearly as crowded as Saturday or Sunday. The first set we saw was by Liars.

They put on a fun show. I saw Liars open for Radiohead a few years ago and they really failed to connect with the audience but everyone watching them at Pitchfork seemed to be into it. Angus was a sight to see as he towered above his band mates and spastically pranced around stage in his short shorts. Their music was a lot darker and more intense than anything else I encountered this weekend.

Next up was Robyn, an artist who I was way less familiar with than most of the others at the festival.

Her set was incredibly energetic and charming. Definitely the biggest surprise of the festival for me. Her music was easy to listen to but definitely still had some interesting touches and I look forward to check out the albums.

The final band for Friday was Modest Mouse. We had made our way pretty close to the stage during Robyn’s set and remained there while most of the crowd migrated to Broken Social Scene. I had seen BSS live a few years ago and was not at all impressed. They sounded pretty good from a distance though.

Once it was time for Modest Mouse to take the stage everyone pushed forward and the heat and claustrophobic closeness was hard to handle.

Modest Mouse had been a band that I enjoyed a lot in the past but did not spend much time thinking about presently. I was pleasantly surprised with their set which included brass, woodwinds and banjo in addition to the normal rock set-up. They opened with “Tiny Cities Made of Ashes” from The Moon and Antarctica and the crowd went crazy at the chorus. We made our way to the back and enjoyed the rest of the set without being smashed between sweaty hipsters before walking back to the hotel.

When we woke up on Saturday we were EXHAUSTED. There were a few bands I was interested in but sticking with my “handful of bands a day” plan, I decided I was most excited for Wolf Parade, Panda Bear and LCD Soundsystem. We decided to spent the morning walking through the city and sightseeing.

We were actually pretty unsuccessful because it was very hot and very crowded (a theme for the weekend). I did not want to wait in line an hour for the Sears Tower so we instead went to the observation deck in the John Hancock building and the view was incredible.

We made our way back to the hotel to prepare for the festival and then walked in the heat all the way there. My bag was thoroughly searched by an elderly guy and he made us throw out our granola bars. A kind young woman went to rip my tickets and but luckily she actually looked at them and realized that I had accidentally brought a Saturday and a Sunday ticket instead of two Saturdays. I made my way out to the sound of another old guy yelling “NO RE-ENTRY” reminding me that if she hadn’t checked my ticket, I would’ve been screwed both that day and the following day. We took a cab back to the hotel and our driver did a great job of getting us back to the festival in a timely manner. I only was able to catch the end of Wolf Parade though.

It sounded like a good set and it was awesome getting to see Spencer Krug live if only for a little while. On the positive side, this allowed us to be pretty close to the stage when Panda Bear came on next.

The set was beautiful and made up of almost entirely new material. The only old song I noticed was “Ponytail” from Person Pitch. Each song built slowly and deliberately as Panda Bear sang intensely over electronics and gentle guitar. People continually walked away from the stage while he was playing, I assume disappointed that they weren’t recognizing any of the songs.

The day ended with LCD Soundsystem which moved the entire crowd to impassioned singing and dancing.

“All My Friends” was the clear highlight and a huge group of enthusiastic audience members weaved through the crowd in a dancing party line. I would’ve been pretty annoyed by it if I wasn’t so into the performance.

Sunday was the final day of the festival and we knew it was going to be a long one. It was very hot but fortunately there was a cool breeze. The day started with a pretty good set from Girls.

It was energetic and sounded good but it failed to stand out very much for me in comparison to the other sets I had seen.

For Beach House (who have released what is still my favorite album of 2010), we managed to get really close to the stage.

The set was majestic. The songs all sounded superior live to their already great album incarnations. Victoria LeGrand’s performance was passionate and entrancing and the other members of the band seemed to have a good sense of humor and allowed the show to remain relaxed. The crowd watching with us seemed to really love the band and I was even more inspired to revisit their older albums which failed to impress me when I first heard them.

I looked forward to seeing St. Vincent and watched the beginning of the set feeling a sense of disappointment.

There was nothing wrong with the performance but the intricate orchestral flourishes were lost in the open air. They did little to compliment the extreme heat as well and we decided to go find some food and explore the festival a bit. After spending some time in the incredibly overwhelming and intimidating vinyl faire, we made our way to the B-stage to see some of Here We Go Magic. I could not stay there for long however because it was entirely too filled with people.

After some more wandering and watching a few unbearable minutes of Major Lazer’s unending redundancies, we wandered around some more and watched some of Neon Indian.

Their set really bored me but I wanted to see Sleigh Bells and was hoping to get a decent spot. Unfortunately Sleigh Bells was running late. There seemed to be some technical difficulties and the set was at least forty minutes late. I had to leave before it started because I wanted to get ready for Pavement.

While waiting for Pavement I saw the end of Big Boi’s set which seemed to go over really well. I was bristling with the anticipation of seeing one of my all time favorite bands and did not pay much attention to anything else.

Pavement took the stage after an alleged ex-radio DJ angered the crowd by insulting everything about our generation. People were really mad and actually threw water bottles and other objects at him. Pavement though, was one of the best experiences of my concert going life.

I was unable to get some even somewhat good Pavement pictures so this picture is taken from the Pitchfork website:

I knew the words to every song and could not help but sing along but I was not the only one. It seemed the whole crowd had an intense familiarity with their entire discography. They played every song I could have hoped to hear including Cut You Hair, Shady Lane, Stereo, Spit On A Stranger, Range Life, Silence Kit, Trigger Cut, Conduit For Sale, Grounded, Kennel District and more. I could not and can not be happier about getting to see them and that is what this entire festival was about.

I am glad I got to go to Pitchfork Music Festival this year. It was an entirely different experience than watching the live stream from my living room and in some ways it was less comfortable but seeing Pavement made it all worthwhile. If you are planning on going to a festival, I would say that Pitchfork is probably a great choice.

Until next time…

Black metal has been a genre of scorching emotive outbursts. The music is fast and abrasive; the singing is akin to the sounds a tortured demon might make. It is a dark and creepy section of the metal genre. Bands like Emperor, Xasthur, Dimmu Borgir, and others bring a sense of doom and destruction to their music. Another aspect that is usually felt when listening to this style of music is despair. Soaring guitars strike out melodies that seem to evoke plaintive, introspective feelings as opposed to the cathartic, anger management treatments usually associated with this stye of music. No band, that could be considered “black metal,” has done this greater than Alcest. A French band made up of one man, Neige, Alcest has structured beautiful songs around the combination of two almost completely separate genres of music.

Alcest new release, Ecailles De Lune, or Scales of the Moon, is a perfect combination of both black metal and shoegaze. Neige has created one of the most incredible mixtures I have ever heard, and he has done it without knowing a thing about shoegaze as its own form of music. In an interview Neige stated that he had not known about shoegaze or any of the bands associated with the genre and that after further researching the music he has come to love it. Strange? Yes, but maybe not as much as you may think at first. There is a certain atmosphere in black metal music that bears similarities to shoegaze. Ethereal, ambient sounds, whether dark or child-like in nature, are found in both genres of music, linking them to each other by a thin, and I mean very thin, thread. The connection can be made, and the transition or incorporation of one of these genes into the other is possible, however unlikely it may have seemed before.

The classic sounds of black metal are present on this release. Fast drums, fast guitars, and screeching vocals appear throughout the album. But, they are incorporated with pleasant melodies and even structured around shoegaze songs that sound reminiscent of Slowdive, Ride, and sometimes My Bloody Valentine, which makes a non-black metal fan feel more at home and comfortable with what they are listening to. With the shoegaze moments being incredible, and powerfully beautiful, Alcest has created one of the best albums, of both genres, in a long time.

Now with similar bands like Amesoeurs, and Les Discrets closely related to Alcest, this type of musical construction is gaining more recognition and respect, as it should. Plus, with two LP’s and an EP under their belt, Alcest is staying strongly ahead of the pack, lighting the way, with the brilliance of Ecailles De Lune, their newest release and the crowning achievement of this new genre, black-gaze or shoe-metal, or maybe gaze-metal? Whatever it ends up becoming, I am highly enjoying it and highly recommending it.

As a music enthusiast, I have always been a fan of the album. The album is a definitive statement: a reflection of a time or place in an artist’s life. Every album is, in essence, a ‘concept album’: The songs it is comprised of are given greater meaning based on their placement. They are inescapably linked to the atmosphere they inhabit. I frequently find myself creating a narrative around similar lyrical or musical themes which give an extra dimension to the music. My preferences make it difficult for me to champion a compilation but They’ll Only Miss You When You Leave by Carissa’s Wierd has really won me over.

A compilation is an anti-album. A group of songs are arbitrarily selected from the span of an artist’s career and thrown together without any reverence for time or place. It should rarely (if ever) be regarded as a legitimate entry in an artist’s discography (as a side note, this is why Rolling Stone Magazines top 500 albums of all time list was a total failure**). The rare times when compilations are useful can be divided into two main circumstances:

1. An artist has many non-album singles or eps that will be of interest to the listener.
2. An artist has never gained a proper following and a sampler is created to gain new fans.

Carissa’s Wierd falls under the second category. They are a band that I have heard mentioned in reviews numerous times but have never heard any tracks. No one has ever given me a Carissa’s Wierd tape and insisted that I needed to listen to it. I am coming into this disc without any prior opinion or point of reference; it is beautiful.

As is the case with every band that has ever been, comparisons can be made between the sound of Carissa’s Wierd and the sound of other bands but these comparisons are limited only to mirrored elements. On specific songs, you may hear the influence of the vocal harmonies and sparse sound of Low or the constantly bending guitar lines of Modest Mouse but Carissa’s Wierd takes these elements and injects them with their own sensibilities to create entrancingly circular compositions which sound as if they were made to be listened to while lying down.The already strong compositions are bolstered by cello and piano giving them an edge of sophistication beyond that which is attained by most folk-influenced bedroom-indie releases.

These songs are romantic. They sound as if they are performed near the gentle, flickering warmth of a living room fireplace by friends who are enjoying each others company in spite of the cold weather outside. If we create a “Winter Albums” list, I imagine that one of their records will be up for consideration on my personal top ten. Based on the strength of this release, I cannot believe that they never gained wider popularity but that could be the magic of the compilation.

They’ll Only Miss You When You Leave is a collection of songs which are considered by someone to be Carissa’s Wierd’s best work. It is possible that their albums never quite achieved the potential on display here. At this point, not having listened, I do not know but I cannot wait to find out!

Consider me the friend giving you a tape and insisting that you listen to it: Carissa’s Wierd deserves to be heard.

I was introduced to Quantic at an interesting time. I was so heavily steeped in the modern day folk bands that I started forgetting there was anything else out there.

With artists like Iron & Wine and Sufjan Stevens monopolizing my stereo, I wasn’t too hip to other new music. My friend brought “Bomb in a Trumpet Factory” to my attention, and I was hooked.

One of the most impressive aspects of Quantic’s music is that Quantic is a stage name for one guy: William Holland. Holland plays the guitars, bass, keys, saxophone, and a majority of the percussion on his recordings. His sound is a mix of bossa nova, soul, salsa, and jazz.

“Absense Heard, Presence Felt” is a great opening track. Melancholy strings are met by a slow dub-ish drum beat. Ambient guitars, some random noise, and finally a saxophone are thown in – though the melody repeats for the entire track, it catches your attention immediately.

Ohmega Watts joins in and raps on “Blow Your Horn,” acting as the first true lyrics on the album. Saxophone is highlighted again. A muted horn plays behind the lyrics, adding the jazz touch. With lyrics like, “I consider you all as a sister or brother,” it’s a feel good song all around.

As I said, “Bomb In a Trumpet Factory” was my first exposure to Quantic. If you listen to the track, you can hear what drew me in. Quantic once again uses the mixture of horns and afro beat percussion in a really special way. Like many of the tracks on An Announcement to Answer, the melody doesn’t depart much, but it’s actually one of the calming parts of the album. You don’t have to think much – you can just sit and enjoy.

“Meet Me at the Pomegranate Tree” is my favorite track on the record. Staccato strings and handclaps support what sounds like a sample from a Civil Rights speech. Holland also highlights his guitar abilities more on this track than some others.

“Tell It Like You Mean It” is a great end to An Announcement to Answer. A harmonizing horn section is looped for about a minute. After a minute and a half, the salsa beat takes over as well as a synch loop. At the end, it finally mixes all of the separate tracks together.

Holland sticks to what he knows. The instrumentation on Announcement doesn’t differ much, but it is consistently engaging. The album is a testament to Holland’s varying talents. Most importantly, it’s fun to listen to. Though Iron & Wine will always be a favorite and hold a special place in my heart, bands like Quantic show me the advantages of hearing beyond what I’m used to.

It might just be me, or it might be that I am getting older, although certainly not old enough to sound it, but the same diminishing process seems to be slowly seeping into the indie scene as well. Band’s are being judged by the way they appear or the way they handle themselves on the road. The actions of the people who create music seems to be overshadowing their product and effecting the way others perceive their artistic expressions. Rumors spread, opinions and statements are made pertaining to what they did, or what they said, instead of what they created, and whether they achieved what they seemed to be striving for.

I suppose this was inevitably going to happen within the indie scene as well. It was only a matter of time before different genres solidified their fan base and accumulated a certain amount of recognition behind a specific marketable look. These observations do not necessarily deter from the music, as much as diminish a level of credibility. People will react to certain instances and then comment on the music as if it is connected in some way to an artist’s publicly displayed actions.

This has unfortunately happened with the new release from the band Wavves. Before listening to the album I had vaguely heard of some instance in which the lead singer of the band had a “meltdown” while touring, or something to that effect. I was never quite certain about the specifics and I didn’t necessarily care. Unfortunately for the band, people started to question their credibility and their music, which is a mistake that extended into the reception of their new release.

That being said, I was not that impressed with their first album, and upon listening to King Of The Beach, I was utterly blown away by the drastic move forward in production and songwriting. There are many influences on this album that clearly shine through. Nirvana’s influence can be heard on the tracks: “Super Soaker,” “Linus Spacehead,” “Take On The World,” “Post Acid,” “Idiot,” and “Green Eyes.” Animal Collective/Deerhunter influences are found on the tracks: “When Will You Come,” “Baseball Cards,” and Mickey Mouse.” Of Montreal has a quick influence on the tracks “Convertible Balloon,” and “Baby Say Goodbye.”

All of these influences are very noticeable but they don’t overpower the success Wavves achieves by pulling it off. The songs are good and they stand on their own, despite taking obvious cues from other bands. A great album with great songs that do not in any way represent the actions of the band outside their creating this piece of art.

The internet has revolutionized the process of discovering bands: no longer does the interested party need to travel from store to store, diving through unpacked boxes for a hidden treasure; no longer does one need to hunt down a rare early EP that they read about in a magazine band biography. As you well know, the modern consumer just need push a button and before they know it they have the entire discography of a band on their computer. Most all music lovers, including myself, have participated in this process but I have grown fairly disenchanted with it. I miss my younger years which were consumed by the hunger and the hunt for new sounds. There was a legitimate thrill to finding something that seemed unique which is often absent in the contemporary development of the download. With all this constant exposure to new bands and sounds, not much sounds distinctive anymore. Perch Patchwork, the debut LP by Maps & Atlases, suffers from this saturation of sound. It is a perfectly enjoyable and well-crafted record but the sounds are too familiar: lessening their potential impact.

When analyzing the development of a musical zeitgeist in any given period of time, it is useful to synthesize the major sound-developments into segmented periods; more often than not this is done in the form of decade-based examination. Many of these sounds repeat as success becomes influence and influence (by nature) becomes imitation. Independent music in the first decade of the 2000’s had many characteristic movements and most of them can be found within at least one song on Perch Patchwork: tribal, math rock, quirky vocal harmonies, bombastic choruses, lo-fi, sampling and even abstract, slightly-poetic (but not too abstract or slightly-poetic) lyrics.

The album opens with the song “Will”: a distorted acoustic pop song which meanders its way towards achieving form only to end once it comes together. This functions as the obligatory ‘intro’ track which is present on many albums but I am not quite sure it really introduces the listener to anything. The record picks up as the second song, “The Charm”, opens and introduces a simple vocal melody with barely audible low-fidelity backing music which is quickly overwhelmed by the marching band drums which are pushed to the front of the mix. Each song focuses on a different element of their musical style.

While I have made some slightly unenthusiastic statements about Maps & Atlases’ debut there is one element that I truly appreciate as a long time music fan: their focus on the album format. Each song bleeds into the next with little to no track separation. This makes for a very cohesive listen which glides by effortlessly. Maps & Atlases show promise with their debut and I believe that with some effort, they can refine their sound and create a distinctive voice. Until then, there is nothing wrong with Perch Patchwork, just don’t expect to be blown away.