Link: http://onemodelnation.com/

You may know Courtney Taylor-Taylor from the drizzle pop of The Dandy Warhols, but do you know the Courtney Taylor-Taylor from the politically and culturally tensile group One Model Nation?

There is not much difference between the two bands. Look beyond the sterile uprising from Total Werks Vol. 1 (1969-1977) and you get the same fashionable cool that Taylor-Taylor is so good at presenting.

One Model Nation is not simple romantic retro-cizing back to the late ‘70s and early ‘80s Krautrock turned industrial musical uprising, it’s a story with gigantic proportions. Taylor-Taylor has concocted a historical fiction that takes us back to the year 1977. The location — Berlin.

Fueled by the historically immortalized albums of that time — David Bowie’s Station To Station and Iggy Pop’s The Idiot — One Model Nation takes the emotional elements that now seem to go hand in hand with ‘70s German cultural revolution even though they stem out to various geographical entities from around the world (the Sheffield, Toronto, and Paris scenes, for example), and create a romantic vision fueled by turbulence.

Taylor-Taylor has done his research because if you don’t blink, you may gather a sense of confusion. Is this really 2012?  That’s what he wants, for you to feel the confusion of this period in German history and relate it to a sense of now. A lot of emotions ride on the sterility of their sound.

“Transmission” is a power trip through analog Krautrock and industrialized background samples, you feel the song slowly evolve as they gently take from early Front 242 and the other politically fueled industrial bands from the early ‘80s.

But that is as far as it goes as Taylor-Taylor looks more towards the gyrating sounds of vintage Tubeway Army, Bauhaus and Scary Monsters era David Bowie. “East Berlin” is the band’s theme song while a song like “Russian Eastern Time” pushes the band’s envelope, turning the horror scene into something that was ripped from the guts of Skinny Puppy.

It all turns into sexual prowess and “The Dominator.” The repetitiveness within their call to arms would turn any revolution into a sweaty mess that transcends into the instrumental “Bicycles,” and a direct homage to Kraftwerk, a band that cannot be mistaken for inspiring everything on this album.

Skinny ties ripped from their sockets and messed up hair in a frenzy, you feel the pre-dawn redness of “Throaty Neumann.” By time, you realize you are a part of this movement whether you like it or not. You have heard too much. There is no turning back. And you can thank all of the experimental electronic bands who were fueled by paranoia to try to explain these unexplained sounds that follow a communist manifesto.

In correlation with all of this is a supplemental graphic novel. With art by Jim Rugg from The Guild, they do their best to recreate the story and not just tie in the experience of the album, but help better explain something that really cannot be explained unless you lived in Berlin during this time.

Not as effective as the album, it’s like a book to a movie, where in this instance, the book is the music and the movie is the graphic novel. Do you need both to make this album effective? Absolutely, not. Is it good currency for a collector. You bet.

One Model Nation does an excellent job at preserving the sound and the emotions of the late ‘70s. If I walked into a record store who was playing this album, I would be fooled, but fooled by a surprising discovery that this album is worth sitting next to the founding generation of ‘70s electronic music.

Links:

• Official Website
• FaceBook
• Tumblr

I used to be a huge Nick Drake fan. I thought no one could do better, and to this day, I still tend to argue that theory. Who in their right mind could even match the aura of Drake’s vocal chords. I did not think about it until I heard Jeff Buckley’s Grace. Then it became apparent that I found someone who I could respect as a singer/songwriter the same way I felt towards Drake. The feelings resurfaced years later when I discovered Iron & Wine’s The Sea & The Rhythm. The subtle EP blew my mind, not in the same way that Nick Drake’s Pink Moon did but a way that complimented this logical progression of musical acoustic greats.

And then a few years ago, I attached myself to an album by A.A. Bondy titled When The Devil’s Loose. The album was so impacting, that I am still amazed every time I listen to that album. He writes with the intent of turning his songs into timeless classics.

Something great tends to come along when I least expect it. It happens out of nowhere, or at least that is how it feels. For Fionn Regan, 100 Acres of Sycamore is not his first album. The End Of History was a great introduction to the Irish singer/songwriter. But for me 100 Acres of Sycamore is the album that did it for me, and I can link him with the musical greats that lead up to this moment. And more than being an incredible release, this is an album that is influential to Irish musical history.

But where his style is traversed is that instead of using traditional Irish folk to motivate his songs, he looks towards the British style of traditional folk music. The only thing that lays planted in Irish tradition is his accent.

I hear the title song, and I cannot help but associate it with the Amazing Blondel or Incredible String Band. To start of an album like that is quite the spectacle, not in an explosion of light but like a proud shimmering glow that gives you hope.

And not like “Sow Mare Bitch Vixen” is anything less satisfying, but the lyrics seem a little off-putting to the style he is presenting, especially when you pair it up to a song like “The Lake District,” an incredible postcard-like folk song.

“North Star Lover” is as great as any John Denver song. And when you hear “Golden Light” flashbacks of every religious-oriented folk album comes flooding into your mind. And if you had parents who became adults in the ‘50s/early ‘60s, then these albums are tucked away in the album storage bin next to that big phonographic stereo sitting in that living room.

100 Acres Of Sycamore is that cool breeze you inhale in from the morning dew. It’s refreshing, intimate, and expressive. It’s a lovely serenade of acoustic musical bliss, and I cannot see myself without it as much as I can see myself abandoning Pink Moon. It just won’t happen.

You feel it? Do you get that feeling that you are encompassed by a ball of energy sending your spirit through space? On those days when the sky is crystal blue and that breeze is enough to make you feel alive, those are the days filled with enough energy in the universe to tingle every sense in your body. You are alive. It’s called accomplishment.

This is what the Conduits do on “Top of the Hill.” A reverb-o-matic piece that bounces off modest synths and drifting rhythms. Jenna Morrison’s vocals soar over our bodies and out into the universe. Turn a band like Slowdive into something sonic and you might scratch the surface.

And if this song is enough to get this type of reaction, I hope their upcoming self-titled release on Team Love will be the spring time anthem that we need. For me, The Church’s Heyday will forever be known as the album I drenched spring of 1987 in. I am anticipating Conduits will be the album for spring 2012. But listen for yourself, and comment with your opinion.

Link: Official Website

Maybe time has surpassed when one indie band after the other was putting out glossy versions of pop punk albums forging rock into radio-friendly hits and filed under the weight of what the industry was churning out at the time. It got to the point, you could hardly tell one of these groups apart from the other. The mad scientist found the secret formula and multiplied it to the masses.

Those times are gone and in comes Ryan Calhoun. He formed The Heaven Switch and re-visited and revised the formula to create something that I would not simply call re-hashing of the pretty boy pop rock era. “Raise A Flag” may start out like the rest of them, but Calhoun is better than that. “Stolen Car” proves that he can come up with a great rock song. It’s not like he’s new to all of this, his last album Everything That I’m Not got all kinds of attentions and chart placements through iTunes and other avenues.

I feel that Calhoun is in a place where he has the ability to expand his musical self, and has done so properly with this self-titled release. He has not stretched beyond his capabilities as this is a nice complement within his now growing discography. You will find that this album is easy to listen to, and you will be pleasantly surprised by the intimacy and exquisite acoustic number of “Fault Lines” or power rocker of “Surface.”

There are elements of this album I feel I should hate but Calhoun makes it so easy to be engrossed in his lyrical writings and consistent tunes. A well-rounded album for the masses.

Link: MySpace Page

A band name like Loincloth accompanied by an album title such as Iron Balls of Steel, garners medieval images of gristly bearded wild men raping and pillaging to the ire of society. Ironically enough, that may be the inspiration of creation for the band itself. Formerly of Breadwinner (major influence of Lamb of God and others), guitarist Pen Rolling envisioned the band Loincloth with like-minded Southern metal heads who surveyed over their beloved genre and didn’t like what they saw. Growling vocals and extravagant leads were overshadowing the core of their music; The Riff. Loincloth has plenty of those to go around with Iron Balls of Steel.

The energy level is intense on opening track “Underwear Bomb” and never tapers down as the album bulldozes through each track. The production is nearly flawless as each instrument is represented nicely. The mix elaborates the conceptual percussion as the highlight but the treble of guitar and deep bass fuzz illuminates the barren framework. Imagine the sonic complexity of Mastodon and the riff-algebra of Meshuggah, minus vocals of course. Somewhere snuggled between those two pieces of bread, you get the slabs of meat that is Loincloth.

Each track never has a runtime longer than two minutes, as if being self-conscious that each jam would soon become redundant. Nothing differentiates each song from the next, distinction an appropriately placed vocalist and lead guitarist could easily provide. Without watching the tracks switch, you would never know you are listening to “Long Shadows”, “Angel Bait” or even “Stealing Pictures” from anything else. Loincloth are great musicians but reiterate once heralded techniques over and over throughout the sixteen tracks. Eventually and unfortunately, Iron Balls of Steel’s brash dissonance fades into the background.

Instrumentation of metal is a romantic, even if a simply misguided notion of purity for the genre. Never lacking the testicular fortitude its title emphatically boasts, nevertheless Iron Balls of Steel becomes stagnate as the album progresses. I’m all for the daunting instrumental concept of Loincloth but consistent creativity and execution must be paramount to stamp it a successful venture. The desire and passion presented is bold and far from pointless but Loincloth’s Iron Balls of Steel sounds like a promising band cutting their demo. All the while, posting ads on Craigslist and continuing that familiar disappointing search for the complimenting singer.

Links:

• Tumblr Page
• FaceBoook

Dana Falconberry’s modest EP is interesting in the way that you find a nature program interesting. You feel its familiarity weigh down on you, but there are just enough intricacies to make you have to look a little closer and listen a little more intently to pick up the delicacies that are within.

The Michigan/Austin singer/songwriter has sent tremors into the indie music world with her eclectic serenades. From childhood to mortality, she explores the wide gap within a four song stretch. There is a lot to take in so don’t feel amiss if the first go around does not latch on to you.

But it’s all of the little things that add up. The harp on “Petoskey Stone” might come out of some country store in the middle of a mid-America tourist destination. But the way it all comes together—the minimal drums, the guitars, the strings, and Falconberry’s rich vocal tale—lies like an awakening. Upbeat turns harmonic intimacy as the tempo shifts to a Sunday morning come down. And when the strings tremble, you realize just how intense the composition of this piece really is.

“Possum Song” changes the mood to a nighttime back porch fragility. A guitar and vocals leads to haunting contemplation about the philosophy of life.

“Muskegon” is the most experimental in song structure, drifting off to try various avenues. It’s not as arousing as the first two songs, but still keeps in with the mood of the EP. And with “Maple Leaf Red,” it’s a childlike departure for Falconberry’s project. A toy piano shatters the mantra of whistling and the great story-teller closes another chapter in her book.

Wavelets
Athaletic
Tiny Engines

Link: Bandcamp

Wavelets is still a relatively young band. Ignited in 2009, they have dipped their toes in the waters with several self-released EPs and singles. Now the band has taken the dive with Athaletic.

The album burns with scruffy nostalgia, the kind you would hear back in the late ‘80s/early ‘90s. Bands like Braid and Mineral, Samiam and Weatherbox all burn bright in the eyes of the members of Wavelets. However, with Athaletic, the album is half hazard and almost clumsy in its chaos.

With a band like Dikembe, a band that features frontman Steven Gray and bassist Ryan Willems, their album (http://dikembe.bandcamp.com/) sounds like it was plucked right out of the Jade Tree discography and filled with sincere rebellious mannerisms in the way The Promise Ring intelligently fueled their indie punk rockers.

To me the lower end of the spectrum is Wavelets. Even though they are more important in context to this review, Dikembe has it more together. When Gray belts out tunes like “We’re Really Jazzed about The Gig” or the strangely titled “My Dad The Manatee,” it’s not at all that impressive. That punk spirit and force is in play. The songwriting is actually the best thing this band has going for it. But what the band is lacking is tightness and precision in the song. Controlled chaos is an effect, but it does not have to end up wobbly as some of the songs do. I think a little more control and this band will have something for people to pay attention to. Unfortunately for me, there was not one song that left an impression on me.

(Click on the label to listen/download the song.)

Links:

• Website
• Facebook

Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, Leonard Friend (a.k.a. Alex Feder formerly of the New York band XYZ Affair) reinvent himself into a modern-day Bryan Ferry with his soulful voices and his Tintin inspired hair cut.

“Serious Music” is the first single released of his upcoming EP entitled Lynryrd Frynd due out January 31, 2012. The song is a very playful tune harkening back to the days of early 80’s synthpop. Sounding very much like ABC or later Duran Duran, this song coming straight from the heart completes Leonard’s transformation into a true rising R&B pop star.

This track is a good sign of things to come from this artist, and am looking forward to seeing what more he has to offer.

Links:

• Official Website
• Bandcamp
• FaceBook

I love this album. Its gentle sincerity. The delicacy used with each instrument like a passing conversation. The words flow through our conscious like that morning coffee, bringing you back to life. The mixture of alt-country and folk rock is a perfect blend, and the fact that Walter Rose leans more towards the alt-country without being encumbered with the style is what sets this album apart.

I didn’t care much for the album at first. Let’s be honest here. If it were not for the slight nods to The Grateful Dead, “When You Were Mine” would sound like something John Maher would try to craft.

Don’t let that scare you off because everything after is a dream. “Dusty Road” is that road-wary gem that cry of Texarkana love serenade through codeine-drip descriptives that run against Rose’s salty throat. This is the beginning of an incredible piece of work for the California singer/songwriter.

Rose teamed up with Lucinda Williams and her band. What results is a beautiful collaboration between the two. Williams collaborates with Rose on “Driving South,” and is one of the best things Williams has done, creating something so painfully sincere and geographical and personally relevant. Her voice matched with his fits so well together, you feel that you just stumbled on one of the greatest lost Country classics. And to top it off, the crying plea of the slide guitar sends you over the edge and into an experience like no other. You can thank Eric Haywood (original member of Son Volt) for the sentiment.

“Black Crow” is electrified with surges of blues and deeply driven back bar rock and roll. It’s a song that could be nested in an Alejandro Escovedo album. And when Rose backs away and the song drifts off into the band, you will experience a jam that is so essential, you will pay attention.

“Long Winter” takes from the truck driver rock from the ‘70s and adds variety to an otherwise well consistent album. The song is like a spark that fires up before the embers burn down. But with the title track, it’s a fine departure that I feel justifies the entirety of this album. Cast Your Stone is an incredible and thought-out piece of music that should be recognized for its greatness.

Link: Official Website

There is something to Johan Reinhold. One look at him, he appears to be the anti-pop star. But sink into “Shoot Me Down,” and it’s one of the more sincere pop songs that could ever come out of the Swedish Pop scene, blending classic psych pop with future folk.

Reinhold’s wayfaring journey is relaxed in his complexity. It’s a smooth song to digest, filled with pop aesthetics from a man who has a story to tell. The song itself is generalized enough to make you feel like you could relate to his lyrics as he lays it all out on the open (he even posterizes the lyrics on the front of his website), yet in its delicacy, you remember it is Reinhold who is at the forefront of this emotion.

He is transparent in his delivery and lush with his musical scope. After a while you begin to catch glimpses into the potential this song has for a proper remix. It’s not an obvious choice, but the challenge is certainly there for some intelligent re-design. Those up for that challenge is Owsey, The Kill Van Kulls, and FRNKNSTYN.

Northern Ireland atmospheric DJ Owsey begins the song like a mess as if My Bloody Valentine had something to do with the song. But that’s the point. It reminds me of Meat Beat Manifesto and the remix of “Asbestos, Lead Asbestos.” The song begins in a chaotic fury, dirty, and confusing in a non-linear scope. Somewhere mid-way, the song is conformed into its traditional element by being highly structured and tight. The style for Owsey’s work is different, but the idea is the same. It starts out like a hallucination and then ends up like a lucid dream of atmospheric tranquility, hovering around like the Northern lights. It’s a great accentuation to the song, using music more than lyrics as a mood shaper.

If you have ever heard Mancester’s Kill Van Kulls, you will quickly come to the distinction that their original music is better than their remixing skills. What sounds like a moderate electronic pop reworking gives a bare resemblance to something Trent Reznor would have done circa early 2000s. They accentuate Reinhold’s chorus to stand out the most. Everything else surrounding that is just electro thump. It also is the shortest remix out of the bunch, clocking in at just over 3:30.

20-year-old Auckland, New Zealand, DJ FRNKNSTYN takes a progressive Dubstep stab to the song. With vocal processing and the now classic contemporary Dubstep break used like a chorus, the popular stance does more damage than good. It’s another example of people taking any song and converting into Dubstep expecting it to shine like gold. Like some of Skrillex’s re-workings, add this to a failed attempt at falsifying the emotion.

Some songs don’t have to re remixed. Although the potential is there, the original still serves as the best dish to devour.