spelling in swedish

i usually don't like it when song lyrics are prominently based around spelling words out. in general it just seems like a silly and somewhat annoying device, and sometimes just flat-out songwriting.

of course, there are some great classic instances: Aretha's "Respect" ("take out the T.C.P.!" [sic]) and Tammy Wynette's "D-I-V-O-R-C-E" spring to mind – the latter being one of the few cases i can think of where the spelling is really an essential part of the song's concept (another, sort of, would be Missy's v. cool "Spelling Bee," though with nothing like the same emotional weight.) and i do have some favorite songs that do it, which are usually pretty short words: Carla Thomas' luscious "B.A.B.Y." in particular, and also Ashlee's "L.O.V.E.," which basically turns the letters into whole new words that let her say "love" in a new, more interesting way: "Ello, ello, ello, vee-ee" (Lyle Lovett kind of does that too on "M[mm].O.N.E.Y," but I don't like it as much. See also: "H to the izzO")

On a similarly cheerleader-ish tip, there's "Washington D.C." (Magnetic Fields), "U.G.L.Y." (Daphne and Celeste) and, especially "D.A.N.C.E." (Justice), which are just having goofy fun with frivolous word games. "E.M.P.T.Y." (The Clientele) also gets a pass from me, partly because incorporates spelling into the narrative in a really evocative way (even if i don't really understand it – for some reason i always imagine the "saws and bows" as tree branches instead [boughs i guess], forming the letters, which i thought was a nice image.)

but more often – as with Pet Shop Boys' "Minimal," Arling and Cameron's "W.E.E.K.E.N.D.." "V.A.C.A.T.I.O.N." (which i know via Darren Hayman's cover), and even Old 97s' pretty decent and possibly Wynette-referencing "W-I-F-E" – i just find it cheesy and a bit obnoxious. even some of my favorite songwriters manage to annoy me with it, like when elvis costello sings "P.P.S.I.L.O.V.E.Y.O.U." in "The Loved Ones," or by far my least favorite song on the new john vanderslice album, "D.I.A.L.O." (though i can't even tell if that's a spelling-out or an acronym, have no idea what it's about.) and don't even get me started on "F.E.E.L.I.N.G.C.A.L.L.E.D.L.O.V.E." (Pulp) or "F.I.R.E.I.N.C.A.I.R.O." (The Cure/Digitalism)

[what am i not thinking of? can you think of any more to add to this list? you know i'm fond if y-o-u.]

HOWEVER, it just so happens that three of my very favorite songs this year are spelling songs, including possibly the two songs that have been on heaviest rotation in my mind for the past few weeks, which, i guess, makes them something like my summer jams.

here's "M.A.G.I.C." by The Sound of Arrows:


whoooosh! sounds just like an arrow flying bullseye into yr little indy twee pop heart, don't it just? been a while since i've had a really great twee-dance anthem to obsess over (i guess cloetta paris came pretty close, but this is much giddier than her stuff, and before that go back maybe to the honeydrips or else tribeca's "teenage," which surprise was also on labrador records, poptastic home to T.S.O.A., who btw have only released this and one other slightly less good single ["danger"] so far, but are supposed to have an album ready sometime.)

anyway, M.A.G.I.C. is some creamy delicious goodness (one of the remixers is named 'ice cream shout', but that seems like a better description for the song itself.) i love how it starts with how he had "the longest ever dream" ... not the strangest, or best, or even necessarily a pleasant one (q.v. labelmate pelle carlberg.) and, it's like a self-fulfulling prophecy, or something: "one should never forget that there are wonders we haven't seen yet." actually, the verses (and pre-choruses) are kind of the best part, even better than the chorus, though the moment of its arrival is pretty fantastic. the silliest thing about the spelling bit, though (which is completely unnecessary and silly in a way that actually is a little annoying, in spite of it all), is that spelling out "world" doesn't actually fit into the melody, so instead they sing that "the V.O.R.L.D. is full of M.A.G.I.C." are we supposed to pretend that they don't know better because they're svedish or something? silly scandinavies.

the other song i want to talk about is by rising star (ish?) adiam dymott, whose s/t debut is one of my favorite albums recently [check out my review here.] there's a lot of ace stuff on there, but the one that's really been sticking with me is not the killer retro-handclappy first single "miss you," or even the awesome, righteously rockin' youth rebellion burner "pizza" (named that for no apparent reason), the first song of hers to really catch my ear, wherein she sings about "connectin' with the crowd like an ayatollah," and also about dropping out of society to start a farm, but rather "mrs. dymott," a deceptively funky slow-groover, which is not on youtube but you can hear in full here.

like pretty much every spelling song, it's kinda silly. it's all about her name, which is an unusual one, and the difficulties it causes her, at the bank for instance, and then how it will be on her tombstone after she dies. she introduces the chorus with "here's a song to help pronounce my name," but actually she spells it out instead (A-D-I-A-M D-Y-M-O-T-T) and also explains where her names come from (from her mom and her husband, respectively.) she does pronounce her full name towards the beginning, but i actually didn't notice that part until now.

okay. finally, there's ryan leslie's I-R-I-N-A, which (as i've mentioned before) is my favorite song from his album even though i can't really say why (and i haven't listened to the album enough to really give the others a good chance.) but, anyway, here it is. he has to spell her name because he doesn't speak her language. but he knows she likes it when he spells her name. see, it's silly.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

title: seep wo
date: october 2007 [conception] - june 2009 [release]
format: cd
price: $5
packaging: hand-printed cardboard case:


with hand-printed cd:


and type-written (copied) insert:

track listing:
1. sleep, eat, have visions - four tet
your snore - lullatone
brahms' lullaby - awry
zzz - motohiro nakashima
i'll read you a story - colleen
plea for a good night's rest - devon sproule
the couple in bed together under a warm blanket wrapped up in each other's arms asleep - of montreal
night flight to your heart - tim hecker
-sleep/swim - múm
lazyboat - triosk
now and sleep - daedelus
shsh shsh - marc ribot's ceramic dog
lord, blow the moon out please - hem
huye luna luna luna - george crumb/orchestra 2001
nightfall - gonzalo rubalcaba
moonbeams - the for carnation
moondear - need new body
13 moons - delia gonzalez and gavin russom
what is a componium, pt. 2 - colleen
leg 2 - the tough alliance
bedfordshire - saint etienne
tahazzut (lullaby) - djur djura
as the moon spins around - manual
floating moon - susumu yokota and rothko
lullaby - si*se
goodnight goodnight - spiritualized
eternity one night only - cut copy

2. goodnight, sweetheart, goodnight - the spaniels
sleepy song - tindersticks
good night - the beatles
magnetic moments of spinning objects - silje nes
dream a little dream of me - the mamas and the papas
first dream called ocean - helios
all i have to do is dream - the everly brothers
sweet dreams - patsy cline
beautiful dreamer - future pilot aka
moon dreams (live) - miles davis
dream - douglas heart
dream - tindersticks
dreamland - black box
asleep and dreaming - the magnetic fields
i was deep in a dream and i didn't know it - colleen
i dreamt i was throwing stones at the sea - théodore
no dreams last night - the clientele
blues dream - bill frisell
it's the same dream that lasts all night - piano magic
happiness nuggets - colleen
lullaby for grown-ups - ane brun
sleeping jiva - kula shaker
hemmelig orkester - björn torske
murmuration - robin saville
not a number - apparat
night sight - air
nightvision - daft punk
slight night shiver - m83

3. sleep song - claudine longet
i went to sleep - the beach boys
-sleep/swim - múm
drift to sleep (the last song) - lucky soul
the rapidity of sleep - darshan ambient
sleep on it - sonna
sleep - the dandy warhols
god blessing - cex
to thee this night (i will no requiem raise) - donnacha costello
sleep in my arms - sally shapiro
night bus - burial
pillow - adem
pillowcase - dntel
paranoid writings - seeds of sleep - pantha du prince
alone - adrien klumpes
dulciter somni - johan agebjörn
midnight souls still remain - m83
lullaby - gonzalo rubalcaba
a sleepin' bee - bill evans
sleep - pernilla anderson

4. 'round midnight - bill evans
judgement at midnight - gary lucas
upon a veil of midnight blue - mary coughlan
'round midnight - carmen mcrae
'round midnight - gil evans
davos s (trio 'round midnight) - jan jelinek
the last one to fall asleep with - yuka honda
between waking and sleeping - club 8
lung shadows - the the
somewhere between waking and sleeping - air
blues dream (reprise) - bill frisell
sleepy-town - jim white
sleepy man blues - bukka white
one night and it's gone - colleen
carnt sleep - saint etienne
lengthwise - phish
asleep in the crowd - théodore
like a rolling stone - cornelius
frosti - björk
la familia (guy sigsworth remix) - mirah
la familia - mirah
rock me to sleep - jill sobule
i wanna sleep - no age
sleep will come - the durutti column
night flight to your heart - tim hecker
sleep warm - cornelius

5. sleep warm - frank sinatra
discrete entropy - loscil
sleep - elvis costello
fib01a - keith fullerton whitman
sleeping diagonally - the six parts seven
i can't feel my hand any more, it's alright, sleep tight - múm
another ballad for heavy lids - stars of the lid
sleeping in the midday sun - town and country
windmill wedding - air france
horizon - hatchback
asleeping in the sunshine - motohiro nakashima
wake - future clouds and radar
the rising sun - arp
wake up wake up - lullatone
a new day arrives - johan agebjörn
asleep from day - the chemical brothers
we leave you in a cloud of thick smoke and sleep outro - prefuse 73
tired - low
li'l hilda - fuck

6. i'm never as tired as when i'm waking up - lcd soundsystem
i'm so tired - the beatles

AMG review round-up, volume XII: mediocre dance music, mostly

haw, well, there's some decent music on these releases...could probably distill them all down to an excellent dance mix actually... but with one or two exceptions, none of them are really what i'd call great albums. so that's your catch-all, i guess.

in no precise order, but generally moving backwards in time from this year to a year or two ago:

Fischerspooner: Entertainment review

Fischerspooner's woozy, percolating keyboard riffs and stylized camp theatrics were considerably more striking in 2001, when the group first emerged, than they are at the tail-end of a decade that's long since done the '80s-resuscitating synth-wave thing to death. Fischerspooner have been largely disregarded since the beleaguered electro-clash beachhead of their debut, despite (or perhaps because of) an entirely respectable sophomore effort, Odyssey, in 2005. But their pop-friendly brand of nu-electro has exerted such an influence on the sounds of the 2000s that this self-released third album, another four years down the line, winds up sounding unremarkably pedestrian (instead of, say, garishly dated, which is how it might have sounded ten years ago.) Which is not to say it's without its charms. Fischerspooner have always been more song-oriented than many of their contemporaries, closer in spirit to a pop/rock band than an electronic dance production outfit (it was the layered vocal hooks, as much as their trademark oscillating bassline, that made "Emerge" such a compelling signature), but they've also always reveled in superficiality, and both of those tendencies are very much apparent here. In musical terms, that means that most of Entertainment is built around the vocals, which is perfectly fine as long as you don't pay too much attention to the actual words. It works out great on upbeat, blithely meaningless cuts like the strutting glam-funk opener "The Best Revenge," which features Bowie sideman Robert Aaron on sax and trumpet, the intriguing, recession-ready electro-clash throwback "Money Can't Dance," and especially the peppy "Supply and Demand," which could pass for vintage Vince Clarke. The vague pseudo-politicking of "Infidels of the World Unite" and the vapid robotomorphism of "We Are Electric" are somewhat more tiresome, while the darker "Amuse Bouche" and "Door Train Home" come off as dreary, dirgelike trudges. The album's nadir, however, is the asinine "Danse en France," proof that inane lyrics are definitely not made better in translation, even if the Frenchmen over at Kitsuné records thought this was worth releasing as a single. A mixed bag, then, but with enough classicist synth pop pleasures to satisfy the committed and the curious. It's far from revolutionary and it's certainly not deep, but as often as not, Entertainment at least manages to live up to its title.

The Whip: bio and X Marks Destination review

The Whip straddle the electronic/rock divide with a wider stance than most of their late-00s hipster-dance contemporaries. Their debut may be titled X Marks Destination, but their stylistic aim isn't as deadly focused as that might suggest: targets veer across the map from the romantically epic pop of "Sirens," with its a rose-tinted, Hollywood-ready sheen, to the gritty, instrumental electro of breakout single "Divebomb," which layers hypnotically swirling synth bleeps with overdriven, Justice-style guitars to fashion an effectively frothy if vaguely perfunctory banger. The bulk of the album falls somewhere in between these poles, lashing feverish, fizzy electronic workouts to guitars-forward, quasi-punkish pop slabs that try, mostly successfully, to have it both ways. These work best when the melodies are upfront and gleaming, as on "Sister Siam" and the swooning, unflinchingly New Order-ish "Frustration." They suffer significantly when the obnoxiously inane lyrics become too prominent, particularly on the execrable "Save My Soul," or whenever the band latches on to empty, ad nauseum catch phrases like "lights down in the dark" or "I can feel the heat" or "I wanna be trash" (a curiously dated, "Loser"-like grunge-era sentiment, albeit married to a pummeling post-post-punk stomp.) And otherwise they tend to fade into indistinct, lackluster neutrality. Still, even if their would-be blazes burn with a reflected fire and a somewhat mannered, over-familiar hand-me-down hedonism, the Whip are at least competent synthesists of simple pleasures, with an unexpected sweet tooth and enough vitality to offer the blog-house constituency some A-grade kindling for late-decade dancefloors.

Late of the Pier: Fantasy Black Channel review

It's a yawnably familiar back-story: following a string of hyped independent singles, a band of young upstarts drops its eagerly anticipated first LP to the notoriously hyperbolic adulation of the British music press. As U.S. listeners would discover five months later, when an Astralwerks release in early 2009 gave them a chance to hear what all the fuss was about, it's a familiar sound, too: in essence, the same basic mode of synth-heavy dance-punk that has dominated blogs and indie club nights ever since the Rapture's breakout early in the decade. But while Late of the Pier might be the latest in a lengthy line of '80s-indebted electro-rock synthesists, up through and including their frequently RIYL'd counterparts Klaxons, they are also among the most inventive and musically ambitious acts to ply that sound. It's those qualities, rather than any specifically identifiable musical characteristics, that have earned the foursome comparisons to figures like Frank Zappa, Todd Rundgren, and Brian Eno, and which make their eclectic and genuinely experimental-feeling debut, Fantasy Black Channel, such an invigorating and, for the most part, successful enterprise. If nothing else, it's certainly a wild ride. Although five out of its 12 tracks had previously appeared as singles, only a couple of them (the riff-centric, Gary Numan-ish "Space and the Woods," the classicist dance-rocker "Broken," and perhaps the kinetic, jerky "Heartbeats") play out like obvious singles in the typical pop sense. Otherwise, the album tends to dole out its abundant hooks in less than conventional ways, favoring elaborate, multi-part song structures with extended instrumental interludes and transitions (starting from the absurdly grandiose glam guitar fanfare of the opening "Hot Tent Blues"), "ambient" breakdowns, and periodic tempo shifts (the intermittently irresistible mini-epic "Bathroom Gurgle" features at least four). Along the way, Late of the Pier pack in nu disco and Afro-funk grooves, Gang of Four-styled post-punk, "tribal" found-percussion workouts, video game squelches, Justice-like electro bombast, vocals that veer from mildly aggro screaming to sweet pop/R&B crooning, and copious amounts of glam metal riffage (shades of the Darkness), among other things. With so much structural and stylistic fragmentation, it's a wonder that the album flows as smoothly and hangs together as well as it does -- much credit is due, very likely, to producer Erol Alkan for helping to rein in and give shape to the band's youthful creative abandon, which from the sound of things could easily have resulted in an indulgent mess. Truth be told, it's still a bit of a mess, but it's a glorious and galvanizing one: a convoluted construction crammed with so many immediately gratifying moments that it takes multiple listens to extricate them all -- in other words, enough instant pleasures to easily outweigh its occasional grating, overreaching, and faltering. The only question remaining is whether or not you have the energy to keep up with them.

Thieves Like Us: bio and
review

Yes, it's another late-2000s band inspired by 1980s post-punk and electro-disco. Thieves Like Us might be distinguished, slightly, by their jet-setting international backstory, some traces of which are audible in these grooves: a sprinkling of synth pop sweetness from Sweden (home to 2/3 of the group); a glob of garish glamour from their erstwhile headquarters in New York City; a fistful of French-touch filter 'n' thump, per their present Parisian base of operations. Most of all, their music is marked by a gritty, beguiling moodiness and seamy decadence that feel somewhat romantically redolent of Berlin, where the band met and formed. (It's notable and curious that they never lived in England, and particularly in Manchester, where one might trace perhaps the most prominent roots of their sound.) Still, possibly because this welter of influences adds up to something a bit too indiscriminately intercontinental, these Thieves do often come off as just another trendy outfit hawking tawdry 20-year time warps, albeit with more streamlined sonics than many. They're at their worst, or at least their most redundant, on half-hearted would-be dancefloor fare like the dopey disco of "Drugs in My Body" (their Kitsuné-approved signature single; knock-off filter-house with none of the requisite joie de vivre), its faster, electro-burbling B-side "Fass," or the thumpy-twerky "Miss You." The problem isn't that these songs are derivative, although they are, but that they're just deadly dull, which is about the only thing a dance jam definitely shouldn't be. They're fairly melodically anemic, for one thing, but the clearest culprit is Andy Grier's flat, tiresome vocals, which barely bother with pitch, let alone inflection (they don't even sound knowingly bored and blank-eyed in a deliberate, stylized way). It makes some sense, then, that the best moments on Play Music are the more sober and sedate numbers, typically drenched in a lush synthetic haze, wherein Grier's vocals, when they're audible at all, take a backseat to the frequently luminous synth and drum programming. Thankfully, these pieces make up a large proportion of the album, among them the shimmering, slow-burning opener, the pulsating "Headlong into Night," and the uncharacteristically warm and open-feeling "Desire," which projects a certain looseness within its gently churning Motorik pulse.

The Whitest Boy Alive: Dreams and Rules reviews

The Whitest Boy Alive no doubt intend their moniker facetiously, if not a bit self-mockingly, but it's a useful cue in pinpointing their music, which does in fact display many qualities frequently associated with whiteness. Fortunately, unfunkiness is not primary among them. Splitting the unlikely but not insurmountable distance between the hushed acoustic folk-pop of Kings of Convenience, Erlend Øye's previous main concern, and the stylish electronic dance-pop of his solo work, TWBA set their sights on gently grooving indie rock/pop, achieved through essentially non-electronic means (guitar, bass, drums, and the occasional electric piano.) Their grooves may not be particularly soulful, but they're toe-tapping enough, and very smartly performed, with an interlocking crispness that recalls Phoenix or perhaps a much less twitchy version of early Talking Heads. That smoothness and precision -- in rhythmic execution, instrumental tone, lyrical diction, and overall sound -- is, for better or worse, Dreams' most notable feature. Call it sonic purity and aesthetic clarity, or call it smarmy slickness and stuffy sterility; it's a pretty white sound either way you take it. But however polite or uptight it may be, pop music floats or fails on the strength of the songs, which in this case are frustratingly hit or miss. There are a handful of winners here -- the peppy kick-off "Burning," the jumpy quasi-dance-punk of "Fireworks,"the brooding "Done with You" and the sweet, hesitantly self-affirming "Don't Give Up" -- and they are gleaming. Too much of the remainder of the album, though, lags in too-similar, blandly vanilla territory; less white hot than white bread.

Erlend Øye was responsible for a couple of the more quietly influential releases of the early 2000s -- the Kings of Convenience's wispily gentle, prophetically titled debut Quiet Is the New Loud and his affable, microhouse-popularizing DJ-Kicks set, not to mention his fine vocal contributions to Röyksopp's early singles -- all thoroughly excellent if hardly earth-shattering work. In the latter part of the decade, though, his output and impact seemed sadly diminished as he lapsed into a middling, milquetoast groove as frontman for the smooth pop outfit the Whitest Boy Alive. The group's second outing is, like everything Øye touches, never less than pleasant, poppy, and unfailingly polite. And his Berlin-based bandmates know their way around a nimble lite-funk strut as well as anyone (Maroon 5 come to mind, as do Phoenix in their more straightforward moments). Newly official member Daniel Nentwig, in particular, offers some tastily chunky electric piano tidbits; his presence on every track (as opposed to only two) helps make this a fuller-sounding affair than the band's debut, as well as somewhat more kinetic. And Øye's croon is as golden as ever, gliding through his earnestly considered reflections on ill-fated relationships. But sound is one thing and spirit another, and the album feels, on the whole, more tired than inspired. A handful of marginal highs aside (the minor urgency of "Courage," the fluid sobriety of "Gravity"), it's hard to shake the feeling that Rules would be a lot more satisfying if it broke a few more.

Nordpolen: bio and På Nordpolen review

The songs that Pelle Hallström writes as Nordpolen often deal with teenage anxiety and alienation, although non-Swedish-speaking listeners would be forgiven for missing the darker undercurrents in his work. Musically, most of På Nordpolen is about as far as you can get from melancholy, at least on the surface: bombastic, major-key chord progressions, shimmering synthesizers, soaring vocal harmonies, and big, thumping disco beats. There's something unusual, though, about the way these familiar components come together. While frequently sweeping and anthemic, the effect is far from the over the top electro-pop giddiness one might expect -- instead of gloriously glammy, the songs feel uncomfortably overstuffed with emotion, ready to burst. Whether they are bursting with hope or despair, or some all-too-human combination of the two, is harder to say without recourse to the lyrics. The name Nordpolen (North Pole) suggests both utter loneliness and holiday cheer (although, strictly speaking, that's an American association, not a Swedish one) and, strangely enough, these epic, enraptured tracks seem like appropriate soundtracks to either. Structurally, Nordpolen's tunes are just as unpredictable and hard to pin down -- a stripped-down piano-and-voice passage might suddenly give way to churning synthesizer house, or vice versa, though as a whole it all feels relatively fluid. Indeed, for all the complexity of the arrangements, it's a little surprising how much the album all runs together: the pulsating single "Skimret" and the catchy closing title track offer the most resonant hooks, while the sweetly subdued "Under" and "Reglerna Har Ändrats" offer a respite from all that pounding, but not much else distinguishes itself, though it's all enjoyable enough as it passes. The album was co-produced by the Tough Alliance, and it shares some undeniable similarities with their work and -- even more so -- the sunny haziness of labelmates Air France, mixing and matching synths and beats with swirls of acoustic guitar, vaguely tropical percussion, and less identifiable sonic detritus (strings, accordions, sound effects). But while it offers an intriguing new twist on the idiosyncratic Sincerely Yours aesthetic, På Nordpolen is ultimately not quite as compelling as the label's previous releases, either in terms of pop songcraft or atmospheric evocation.

Kleerup: bio and Kleerup review

Andreas Kleerup's first album as a solo artist/producer bears the mixed blessing of having had its lead single and standout track become a sizable international hit...for another artist. "With Every Heartbeat," known to U.K. listeners as a chart-conquering comeback smash for the highly deserving Robyn, was initially presented in Sweden as Kleerup's debut single, nearly a year and a half before the album's eventual release. The good news is that it still sounds as phenomenal as when it first began making waves in late 2006, perhaps even more so in this sympathetic context than tacked onto reshuffled re-releases of Robyn; if there's nothing else here that can touch its glorious heights, there's plenty that comes close, though admittedly by following very similar pathways. Kleerup can certainly be accused of repeating the same tricks over and over, but at least he has some remarkably effective (if not immensely distinctive) tricks -- essentially, moderately paced and genially thumping robo-disco beats wedded to majestically buoyant chord progressions, played on synths that somehow manage to sound lush and punchy at the same time, with some bonus keyboard flutters for icing. And, of course, sweetly emotional pop melodies, often performed by female guest vocalists -- this album has six, all Swedes, each of whom injects some of her own personality (they all co-wrote their contributions), which helps add some welcome variety to the proceedings. Hence Lykke Li's "Until We Bleed" is languid and forlorn and Neneh Cherry's "Forever" is R&B-inflected and vaguely sociopolitical (complete with a tastefully deployed children's choir), while Marit Bergman's "3AM," with its ABBA-esque circular melody and club-friendly electro glide, is the album's brightest, sprightliest moment. The several instrumentals -- "Hero" and "Tower of Trellick" in particular -- demonstrate that the same basic approach can be just as effective without the vocals, and "Thank You for Nothing," essentially the backing track from Cyndi Lauper's Kleerup-produced "Lay Me Down," is nearly as good even stripped of its melody. Finally, Kleerup saves one of the best vocal tracks for himself, the touching, treble-filtered pop of "On My Own Again," which takes a slightly different tack, piling on the acoustic guitars and vocodered harmonies.

September: September review

Swedish dance-pop singer September (aka Petra Marklund) scored a U.S. dance hit in 2007 with "Cry for You," a sleek, tuneful bit of prime Euro-disco that borrowed its central riff from Bronski Beat's "Smalltown Boy." Robbins Entertainment followed up that success by releasing this debut album, which is actually a compilation of material from September's second and third Swedish albums, cherry-picking half of the tracks from 2005's In Orbit and all but three from 2007's Dancing Shoes. Taking a no-nonsense approach, it kicks off with her three biggest singles to date; both "Satellites" and the markedly bubblegummy "Can't Get Over" are decently catchy, but "Cry" is the obvious standout, managing to conjure both sophistication and a surprising degree of emotion from its fairly pedestrian frothy electro-pop arrangement and polished but powerful vocal turn. Save for one so-so ballad ("Flowers on the Grave"), the remainder of the selections follow the same basic approach in arrangement, tempo, and tone, to fine but generally diminishing results. At its worst, the material is slightly cringe-inducing (the dopey lyrics of "My Neighbourhood"; the shameless "Bette Davis Eyes" sample on "Midnight Heartache"); at its best it's well-executed but unremarkable. The main problem with September's music is that, unlike her Scandinavian counterparts such as Robyn and Annie, she doesn't project much personality -- her voice is decent, and even warm at times, but the lyrics are empty and she comes off as a complete cipher. Still, "Cry for You" is a strong enough track (though fairly faceless too, in its way) that even an album's worth of half-hearted imitations holds some interest for fans of the genre.

Sarah Nixey: bio and Sing, Memory review

The solo debut from Black Box Recorder chanteuse Sarah Nixey takes up the extroverted electronic pop trajectory signaled by that beloved band's (evidently) final album, Passionoia, and ventures a good deal further in that direction, emerging as a full-fledged collection of stylish 21st century dance-pop in the vein of Goldfrapp, Dot Allison, and Róisín Murphy. Characteristically, the emphasis is less on "pop" and "dance" than on "style," but Nixey and her collaborators (chief among them James Banbury, a former Auteur and member of the downtempo/IDM outfit InfantJoy) never let setting the right mood interfere with a good hook or a groove -- in any event, the album is both impossibly glamorous and immensely pleasurable to listen to. It's divided between dancefloor-ready tracks -- the sensational candy-disco single "Strangelove," the similar, slinkier "Beautiful Oblivion," the genially funky "Nothing on Earth," which could easily pass for latter-day Kylie Minogue tune -- and more downtempo, slightly trip-hop-inflected material both dark ("Masquerade") and sweet (the electro-romance "When I'm Here with You") and usually somewhere in between -- a split which is roughly mapped by the album's two titular halves, each of which has its own spoken preface. Lyrically, Nixey reveals herself to be a good deal more romantic and empathetic than her Black Box Recorder ghostwriters Luke Haines and John Moore, although she still has a touch of their black-humored bite and a similar preoccupation with the dark, twisted aspects of human relationships. Somehow, knowing that Nixey herself is the brain, and not just the lips, behind these lovelorn tales helps to take the edge out of her stiffly proper English enunciation, and in conjunction with a less chilly delivery and the lush, shimmering electronic warmth of the productions, makes Sing, Memory far more likely to melt your heart than leave it shivering.

Winona: bio and Rosebud review

The most obvious reference point for Winona's music is the dark, glossy, achingly elegant sound of late-'90s downtempo electronica and trip-hop, in particular its more commercially palatable exponents: Thievery Corporation, Kruder & Dorfmeister, Zero 7, and vocal-oriented acts like Mono and Dot Allison. It's not a kind of music that's particularly prevalent in the late 2000s, but it's still an effective style when done well, and these guys definitely have the chops (and more importantly, the taste) to pull it off. Which isn't too surprising, considering the résumé of central member Craig Armstrong. He had a hand in the creation of at least one bona-fide trip-hop classic -- Massive Attack's Protection, some traces of which are discernible here -- while his years of scoring films make the description "cinematic" (the genre's go-to adjective) even more of a foregone conclusion without being a meaningless cliché. For example, the stabbing, dancing, classical-sounding piano figures that flit throughout "Max" sound very much like something one might hear in the soundtrack to a slightly edgy art film, in a vaguely familiar but not obnoxiously overt way. With a sound palette drawn almost exclusively from vintage synths and drum machines, the album veers from tense, mildly menacing beat workouts like bleeping opener "The White Room" to ambient reveries like "De Nada" and "Winona Falls" and a curious hidden track that's equal parts stately and squirmy. There are also a handful of vocal numbers scattered across the track list -- the heavily vocodered, somewhat faceless disco-pop attempt "Celebrity," sleek, Massive-esque single "Without You," subdued electro-ballad "Indigenous," and some spoken French on the lush, melancholy "Always" -- which blend in fairly well with the overall mood, being a bit more direct than most of the instrumental material but not glaringly poppy. Contributing vocalist Lucy Pullin claims that Winona's music is "definitely not nostalgic," and it's true that Rosebud often summons a kind of austere beauty which seems to exist outside the realm of human emotion and sentimentality. Considering how flagrantly and fragrantly it recalls a particular, bygone approach to electronic mood music, however, it's bound to make some listeners of a certain age at least a little bit misty.

Kathy Diamond: bio and Miss Diamond to You review

Kathy Diamond's debut album, a full-length collaboration between the U.K.-based singer and veteran house producer Maurice Fulton, is a deeply satisfying and distinctive work of 21st century disco that draws extensively from soul, funk, and Latin. In a burgeoning and strikingly varied field of revivalist disco artists whose aesthetic and musical integrity trumps the considerable potential for novelty gimmickry -- among them the disparate likes of Metro Area, Sally Shapiro, and Hercules and Love Affair -- Miss Diamond to You stands out for its focus on establishing a consistent, evocative mood and a leisurely, luscious sense of groove rather than dynamic, overtly danceable beats, or even readily recognizable songs and melodies (although it has those things too). It's less blatantly electronic than any of the aforementioned acts, blurring the lines between synthetic and organic (and between modern and retro), with inconspicuously programmed drums and keyboards, subtle ambient textures, swaths of flange and reverb, and other understated flourishes integrated seamlessly with chunky, vintage-sounding synths, clavinets, organs and acoustic pianos, light and breezy guitars, layers of Latin-tinged percussion (cowbells, shakers, congas, pandeiros, sleigh bells...) and, most of all, impeccably fluid, funky basslines, usually of the slapped variety. Apart from some of those bass parts (which are simply beyond the capacity of machines), it's hard to be entirely sure what was programmed and what was played -- nearly everything here sounds like it could have been performed by a live band (Chic springs to mind), except that Fulton was evidently responsible for the whole thing -- but all that's really relevant is how gorgeously it all flows together in a cohesive, unified whole. In fact, the album's uniformity of sound -- there are a lot of different instruments but not, ultimately, a whole lot of textural range -- could potentially be taken as an issue, since it means the whole tends to overshadow the individual tracks. That's not helped by the brief a cappella fragments, taken from various songs, which are sequentially mismatched throughout the track list as if to suggest that the vocal hooks are interchangeable. And Diamond's sweet, wafer-thin voice, while well-suited to the album's languid, smokily intimate vibe, doesn't do a great deal to elevate her lyrics and melodies into truly charismatic or memorable territory. Still, the slyly poppy "All Woman" and "On & On" stand out as well worth hearing in their own right, as do the mostly instrumental electro-samba "Until the Sun Goes Down" and the thickly layered keyboard funk of "Over," with its curious vocal tweaking.

spring-a-long hypertext mixburst

and whoosh, the time 'tis a-springing. ok, so – i brought three mixes home with me on mothers' day weekend: (3) a quick'n'dirty fun-faves'n'odd-sods cd for my sister, made morning-of for us to listen to together on the drive to rochester, (2) a very-eventual next-installment in my ongoing series of "women's music" discs for my mom, and (1) a general-purpose general-audiences mix of current and recent hot hits, intended for haphazard general distribution.

as an all-round catch-up on my recent writing and listening in addition to mixmaking activities, here's the tracklists, with links, where possible, to recent writings on the artists in question; mostly AMG reviews, as well as several CityPaper pieces, and a few other things. enjoy, and feel free to request copies!

(in order from longest to shortest gestation and intended longevity/significance):

(1)
Title: Spring Gleamings
Date: April-May 2009

1. The Palace at 4 AM - A.C. Newman
2. My Love - The Bird and the Bee
3. French Navy - Camera Obscura
4. Compilation Cassette - Darren Hayman
5. Suits Me Fine - Emily Bate
6. What Is Happening - Alphabeat
7. Every Goliath Has His David - The Boy Least Likely To
8. You Don't Gotta Run - Pop Levi
9. At Last - The Dø
10. Stronger Than Jesus - A Camp
11.Generosity - Mirah
12. When I Grow Up - Fever Ray
13. Aldrig Ensam - Jonathan Johansson
14. Bumbo - NOMO
15. I-R-I-N-A - Ryan Leslie
16. Happy Up Here - Röyksopp
17. Dancing Shoes - Montt Mardie
18. General - Buraka Som Sistema
19. Lay it Down - Peter Bjorn and John
20. Chinese - Lily Allen
21. I Couldn't Say It To Your Face - Arthur Russell
22. Hey Snow White - The New Pornographers

notes: as per the title, sort of a successor to harvest gleanings, but definitely lighter and looser in construction as well as tone. really, this is just a compiling of many recent favorites, including some that i might should/would have held on to for year-end purposes, but that gets to feel silly after a point, though i did go with a close-second for the boy least likely (q.v. my "one track mind" blurb on "lemonade") and maybe jonathan j. (though truly that whole album is mix-worthy.)

heavily indie pop/rock slanted – it's a bit of a surprise to me that that's so much of what i've been listening to, these days (wasn't i supposed to have gotten over that or something?) – with a solid slew of feel-good gtr jams, a bit of a mellow-out, and then a whirlwind dancey section that's a tad tokenistic but still flows decently.

the first five tracks go ABCDE by artist, and the next two start that cycle again (could have kept it up with camp and dø but the sequencing didn't work. the first six songs in particular have been in heavy mental rotation. "palace" has emerged as by far my favorite on the a.c. newman album (to the extent that i haven't been listening to the rest of it at all any more.) "french navy" (which likewise outshines anything else on my maudlin career except maybe that crazy string bit in "careless love") is nearly impossible to slot on a mix because it is such an emphatic track one, but this will have to do, since i'm allergic to that particular brand of reusing. "what is happening" (an '09 single!) and "my love" are strong song-of-the-year contenders, totally topping the singing-whilst-biking charts. "compilation cassette" is a perfectly springy new-love song, despite the fact that the lyrics claim it takes place in september. (but darren hayman, who's recently become my most-played artist on last.fm, deserves, and shall receive, his own post, soon enough.)

"at last" and "stronger than jesus" could have been on the chicks mix (below), but they ended up here instead, along with "generosity" which is still one of only two songs that have really stuck with me yet (along with "education") from (a)spera (i'll keep trying tho.) i'm at a loss to explain why "i-r-i-n-a" has been my #1 take-away from ryan leslie's alb, except that it came on my pod when i was running once and it's just such a fun and light-hearted hook and beat. "dancing shoes," the advance single from montt mardié's current alb (which i oughtta get my hands on already), feels like a totally textbook/generic monty tune – it's so epitomic of his style that i barely even notice the song itself – but that's hardly a bad thing. makes it a good intro to him i think. likewise the buraka som sistema song, though it's a bit of a sore thumb here. doesn't matter, it's just so good. (and, really, it's a weird concoction in any context.)

finally, "hey snow white," from the very solid dark was the night comp, is as mesmerizing and hooky as anything on a.c. newman's album this year, or the new pornographers last one, whether because or in spite of it's tossed-off simplicity. dig it.

(2)

Title: Chix IX
Date: May 2009

1. The Pharoahs - Neko Case
2. What's In The Middle - The Bird and the Bee
3. Nothing Can Come Between Us - Obi Best
4. Anna - Hello Saferide
5. My Foolish Heart - Jazmine Sullivan
6. Is It You (Ryan Leslie's Piano Version [?]) - Cassie
7. Feeling Good - My Brightest Diamond
8. Did You Give The World Some Love Today Baby? - Doris
9. Who'd Have Known - Lily Allen
10. Hey Stephen - Taylor Swift
11. Louie - Ida Maria
12. The Sweetest Thing - Camera Obscura
13. Crackers - Maia Hirasawa
14. Love Is Free - Sheryl Crow
15. My Eyes Adore You - Betty Padgett
16. Difficult Women - Emily Bate
17. Keys to the Car - Birdie Busch
18. The Well-Dressed Son to His Sweetheart - Devon Sproule
19. I Need You To Hold My Hand - Naomi Shelton and the Gospel Queens
20. Keep Pushin' - Nikka Costa
21. A Capella (Something's Missing) - Brandy
22. While We Have The Sun - Mirah
23. True Colors - Ane Brun

notes: maybe the best "chicks" installment in some time (notwithstanding that it seems to have been a good three years since i made one) – on its own terms, but especially in terms of my mom (hopefully) actually liking most or all of it. i guess either i've moved past feeling a need to showcase my poppier/dancier female artists in this setting, or else i've got enough else on my plate to more than fill it with gentler/folkier/more approachable r&b/soul stuff and not have to stray farther afield

so this is a pretty smooth ride overall, though definitely not without variety or interest. hopefully cassie, jazmine, nikka and brandy – whose album i just can't get enough of, with several fave cuts still calling out for future mixtape airing – fit the bill on the mom-friendly r&b front, and keep each other enough company not to feel out of place (with some throwback help from doris and betty p.) and that taylor swift song is probably the most low-key thing on fearless, and also among the best. the opening neko cut was by far the biggest middle cyclone standout initially (along with the covers), though the rest continues to grow on me. and "keys to the car," which was the most memorable number at both of the birdie busch gigs i've seen, remains easily the most memorable thing on either of her albums, even though it's sort of tucked away. i been singing it a bunch. (and it's one of a couple things here that about mothers, incl. hello saferide, cam.obs., and ...well i always think that devon sproule song is though actually it's not.)

(3)
Title: Proper Rock for Moofer D
Date: 9 May 2009

1. Love is Only a Feeling - The Darkness
2. Then Cities Beyond - Snake and Jet's Amazing X-Ray Band
3. Proper Rock (Radio Edit) - The Chap
4. Star Shaped - Blur
5. Lion in a Coma - Animal Collective
6. Cynical Days - XTC
7. Mexican Divorce - The Drifters
8. 8 Bit World - Darren Hayman
9. Nous Tombons Dans Elle - Dominique Leone
10. Breakout - Cash Cash
11. Wait - Matthew Sweet
12. A Lover's Concerto - The Toys
13. You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real) - Sylvester
14. Until We Die - Max Tundra
15. Swedish Sin - Billie The Vision and the Dancers
16. Run That Body Down - Paul Simon
17. California Song - The Mountain Goats
18. You've Really Got a Hold On Me - Small Faces
19. Thank You For Giving Me Your Valuable Time - Kaada
20. True - Brandy
21. Si Yo Fuera Un Chico - Beyoncé

alright, well in part this mix was about trying to make a more or less automatic/spontaneous cd mix, the way we useta do more in the days before itunes playlists and especially before cd-rs. er somethin. actually, it was a bit more premeditative than that, since i took a lot of it from my ongoing "songs for listening" playlist, which is essentially a home-listening version of the "on the go" ipod feature. meaning it's a desultory assortment of songs that, for some reason or none, had been worming their way into my head (whilst biking, or waking up, or sitting around, or whatever), unexpected head-wigglers that seemed worth sharing. (key picks on that front incl. the xtc, the paul simon, and the toys.) ended up being more recent stuff than i'd really intended (about a third is from the last year or two), tho whatever. got a bit screwy because i decided i really wanted to include the 11-minute "until we die," which might now be my favorite song from parallax error – it's the epic, proggy one at the end, but the vocal bit in the middle is really lovely and sweet. (and the rest is good too.) so that took up a lot of space and i ended up taking of some of the more unpredictably unpredictable things.

but, in another way this mix was just about being able to put "love is only a feeling" on a disc. and listening to it (loud) (in a car) with somebody (my sister) who might be properly excited about it the way i am. which she was.

because...oh man... that song has been totally ruling my last, oh, month and a half, at least. for a while there, i was listening to it first thing most mornings. not like it's new – it's from the darkness' debut, 'member?, back in 2003 – or even new to me: i'd definitely listened to it and even enjoyed it in the past, even though i wasn't otherwise that into the band apart from "i believe in a thing..." i came back around to it mostly through checking out hot leg, the new band of lead singer justin hawkins. who are pretty awesome. but, gotta be real, not nearly as awesome as this song.

(and, whoa, never seen the video before, but how perfect is that? who hasn't had that fantasy, of rocking out on top of a mountain... okay, well, i have, at least. hm, this reminds me a bit of the similou video for "all this love". anyway, it's a pretty brilliant and brilliantly simple analog for the song's awesomely ridiculous massiveness. although the video edit of the song is missing the acoustic return at the end, which is one of the greatest moments. along with all the other great moments which make up the rest of the song.....like for instance the title and concept, and the lyrics in general, and justin's accent, and the sing-songy guitar notes in the chorus, and the bouzouki/hurdy-gurdy-like bits in the verse, and the solo section, and well, obviously, the chorus hook and the singing.)

speaking of the preposterously epic, i have to say that "si yo fuera un chico" has become one of my very favorite songs of 2008, and easily my favorite beyoncé thing of recent memory (even eclipsing "radio," i guess...?) – i much prefer it to the english-language original, partly because it's fun to listen to the spanish (and understand much of it) but more so (though this is contradictory perhaps) because the translation makes it possible to ignore the song's lyrical content while removing exactly none of its melodrama, meaning that you can just feel it intensely without having to think about it or reflect on the (certainly worth-reflecting-on-at-some-point) gender/identity/relationship politics that she's driving at. so yeah, there's that. also, brandy's "true" is a totally gorgeous thing...yeah.

Bonus Tracks!
or, a.k.a., some other assorted songs that could have been on (at least one of) these mixes, but weren't (or were cut out), or could perhaps be the germ of a future (scatterschottisch) mix of some sort, or in any case are things i've noticed recently and (in most cases) have written something about somewhere too...

Cocktails - Hot Leg
as i might have mentioned, these guys are pretty fun. the problem (if it is one, which is not necessarily) is that, compared to something like "love is only..." they crank up the 'ridiculously' and leave the 'massive' part mostly out of it. still with the falsetto singing and chorus hooks thing, tho. i say an amusing thing about this song in my review.

(How Can I Keep You) Outta Harm's Way - King Khan and His Shrines
or possibly "69 Faces of Love," which is surprisingly enough one of the sweeter and more subtle (in relative terms, i guess) from the king khan disc which i ended up enjoying more, maybe not so surprisingly, than the actual show, though that might just have been because i was tired and they are rowdy and demand your physical electricity. anyway this is some sweet throwback soul, 'cept for it's rock'n'roll too. aaoooooooww!

Bits and Pieces - Junior Boys
not the best song on (the sadly underwhelming) begone dull care/caprices en couleurs (as the odd bilingual cover has it), but maybe the funniest, since, as i realized gradually but especially when they played it slower and groovier live and it was one of the more movable moments of their set, it's kind of a joke sex song, with semi-faux-über-smoove lines like "i see you better when the lights are out" and, especially, the kicker "practice is over," which really makes it seem like a counterpart to flight of the conchords' "it's business time."

Student Union - Lady Sovereign
also v. silly... i thought i liked this album more, but actually it is pretty bad. oh well. what i was trying to say, but got pretty lost in my word-count-cramming attempt at concision, is that this song's synth riff sounds a whole lot like enya's "orinoco flow." which isn't at all a bad thing to interpolate, though it could probably be used for something a lot more musically interesting. at least it's funny though, kinda, with a sorta streets-ish ranting quality against, in this case, uni students.

I'm On a Boat - The Lonely Island ft. T-Pain
okay, well speaking of funny... for some reason people seem to be giving this album some pretty substantial attention: i've listened through a few times and it's definitely entertaining, though this has been one of the only things i really cared to hear more times than that. i could still see overdoing it, easily, but so far at least it's still utterly hilarious, all the more so because you can almost imagine t-pain thinking it's somehow serious (or at least as serious as anything else he does.) and because they really didn't have to make many alterations at all to the style (epic, synthy vocoder r&b); it's preposterous enough as is, they just give it a bit of a nudge. ok, a pretty big nudge.

Yes Boss - Hess is More
i guess hess is more are/is(?) supposed to be something of a comedy/novelty act as well (albeit as an electronica act, sorta.) i haven't really figured it out yet (but i'll let ya know.) and this is definitely funny, with a sort of "step into my office baby"-style cheery sexist cheese but intercut with a strong flavor of bdsm kinkiness, with a deadpan delivery that makes for a unnerving counterpoint between absurdly goofy and slightly disturbing... all the more so because the music is legitimately slinky and sexy and creepy. hypnotic and really striking stuff. (i'd actually heard this a while ago, but recently got a forthcoming "hits" comp, so am trying to sort out the context of the rest of hess's work.)

Bugs & Flowers - Jeffrey Lewis
and yes, this one is funny too, though again in a totally different way. for me, for now, this is the linchpin of jeffrey's great new album, conceptually, as well as just a high point in general. the song does what it does so well and so straightforwardly that it's hardly worth really discussing what that is, but i do urge you to check it out... (maybe i can get a mixtube thing going here on this post soon.)

and on a totally different tip...

Yesterday and Today - The Field
title track and probably best part of the new field album, though it doesn't get really great until the last three minutes (out of ten)... the first seven are solid but standard fieldsy shuffle and swell, and then we finally level out into an unexpectedly groovy plateau which features both the "rubbery bass" and the "live drums" i reference in my preview. too bad he couldn't have stretched out da funk for another seven minutes or so. but we'll take what we can get.

Room Without A Key (Studio Remix) - Rubies
"by" rubies, but really by studio, who basically jettisoned everything except for some of simone rubi and terri loewenthal's (very pretty) wordless cooed vocals, and some of the chord structure i guess, and created a completely new track, in 3+3+3+5/4 time, with deep deep bass (as in profound) and endless effortless guitar wisps. a blissed-out gem (it's cliched but...) and maybe my favorite studio thing. and, i'm so stoked, i know own it on 12", one of my choicest amoeba finds. so so def.

Kunst or Ars - Meanderthals
it's a beautiful morning... (if this isn't the aural equivalent of a sunrise, i tell you what.)

AMG review round-up, volume XI: 2008's greatest hits

Years are queers, m'dears, but this here's just my gears grindin' too slow, i fear: some leftovers, mostly published in oh-great oh-eight, of albs that came out in that year at least somewhere in the world, though a couple are older or newer if you wanna go by "actual" release date. anyway garsh i'm slow but here you go, midway thru oh-fine oh-nine... these were/are for realz some of my very favorite "2008 albums."

some'n nordic guitar pop (yawn...), some'n ethno-tekno and even (snrfl?!) hip-hop, but kick it off with a couple o that good ol weirdolectronica... they may not be scandinaviites, but at least they've got some frosty surnames:

Kelley Polar: I Need You To Hold On While The Sky Is Falling review

Kelley Polar's second album builds on the already rarefied majesty of his debut and expands outward in all directions: more plush neo-classical elegance, more crackling precision-disco euphoria, more dashing, gooey sentimentality, more meandering harmonic intricacy and dizzying structural invention, more pop and more fizz. I Need You to Hold on While the Sky Is Falling is an exercise in controlled excess, a lavishly calibrated and articulately decadent statement from an utterly singular artist. In compositional terms, the Juilliard-trained Kelley strikes a skillful balance between dense, dazzling chordal complexity and melodic accessibility. With some assistance from longtime consort and nu-disco guru Morgan Geist (credited with mixing and additional production), he coaxes an almost uncanny crispness and visceral presence from his limited instrumental palette of strings, synthesizers, digital beats, and vocals (sampled, spliced, and layered or simply, soulfully sung), creating a sense of sonic purity and cohesion-out-of-chaos that dovetails perfectly with his lyrical themes.

This cohesiveness of conceptual content is the album's most unique and endearing quality, but also its biggest potential sticking point: I Need You to Hold On traffics in a sort of epic hodgepodge mysticism, using references to Greco-Roman mythology, new agey spiritual philosophy, and pop astrophysics to evoke a grandiose vision of universal interconnectivity. It's the kind of thing that can be nearly to impossible to stomach if presented with more than a whiff of self-seriousness, but can also feel like distasteful mockery if treated too lightly. But Kelley Polar is both smart and sensitive enough to pull it off: his delivery is straight-faced and earnest throughout, but while he clearly intends these sentiments quite sincerely, there's also a slightly ambiguous undercurrent of levity that comes through in both his nimble, nuanced musicality and occasional moments of parodic excess. Surely, the over the top, vocodered, and time-delayed guided meditation that opens "A Feeling of the All-Thing" carries a winking sense of its own ridiculousness, yet it's too bold and striking a gesture to be dismissed as mere novelty, especially given the magnificently rapturous disco fantasia that emerges out of that esoteric invocation. Metaphysical concerns aside, it's hard to argue with the exceptional beauty and powerful strangeness this music conjures up: the searing, intimate romanticism of the diaphanous "Dream in Three Parts (On Themes by Enesco)," the ruminative, infinitely self-refracting curiosity of "Zeno of Elea," the kicky kinetic energy of "Sea of Sine Waves," and, especially, the immaculate single "Entropy Reigns (In the Celestial City)," a duetted ode to hedonistic indulgence with ambrosial electro-pop hooks to match. As ambitious, idiosyncratic, and satisfying as his music is in its own right, it's Kelley's virtuosity with the interplay between sounds and ideas, on a larger scale, that makes him a true visionary.

Max Tundra: bio and Parallax Error Beheads You review

Max Tundra's painstakingly constructed, impossibly intricate 2008 follow-up to his 2002 opus Mastered by Guy at the Exchange, Parallax Error Beheads You is the sound of those six intervening years whizzing by in just over 40 minutes. A giddy rush of convoluted melodies, hyper-precise sonic detail, and dazzling Day-Glo unpredictability, combining the meticulous luster of a big-budget pop production and the infectious idiosyncrasy of a chintzy vintage home recording (sequenced, like all of Tundra's work, on an antiquated Commodore Amiga computer), it's initially overwhelming and not a little bit disorienting, occasionally creating the sensation that one's head is about to explode. Given time, though, this emerges as easily the most infectious, engaging, and approachable of Tundra's albums so far, generally shoehorning his manic creativity into reasonable approximations of conventional pop song structures, framed around abundant, quirky hooks and appealingly restrained pop-soul vocals. As though to reassure hesitant listeners, the album opens on a particularly gentle note, with a simple, cheery harpsichord ushering in the breezy lilt of "Gum Chimes," before it unleashes two of Tundra's most buoyant pop confections to date: the herky-jerky "Will Get Fooled Again," whose fractured arcade-game bleeps and rock guitars (!) underscore typically absurd lyrics concerning a series of unorthodox Internet dating adventures ("I found a girl on Google image search/She was in the background of a picture of a church"), and the even more exuberant "Which Song," which almost sounds like it could be a massive radio hit, in spite of its gleefully unhinged musical accompaniment. Things get even stranger later on -- with "Orphaned"'s barrage of madcap micro-sampling (like Akufen on Adderall); the jittery lo-fi candy-thrash of "Nord Lead Three"; and the largely instrumental closer, "Until We Die," stretching out somewhat indulgently into a fragmented synth-prog epic -- but the vibe always remains persistently, even perversely, tuneful. Mannered English eccentricity never sounded so deliriously thrilling.

Buraka Som Sistema: Black Diamond review

Black Diamond, the exhilarating debut full-length from Lisbon's Buraka Som Sistema, will mark many listeners' first exposure to Kuduro, an Angolan style of dance music that's attracted international attention only recently despite roots dating back to the mid-'90s. The bandmembers are more than happy to serve as musical ambassadors: after an insistent warm-up track paying homage to the genre's two capital cities ("Luanda-Lisboa"), they enlist go-to global beat superstar M.I.A., along with the pioneering DJ Znobia and a few guest MCs, for "Sound of Kuduro," an unruly but unambiguous statement of purpose whose inanely effective nursery-rhyme refrain spells out, for the benefit of bewildered Anglophones, exactly what is going on here. To judge from the evidence of this album, the sound of Kuduro overlaps liberally with almost every other globalized, urban-based 21st century sound blending elements of hip-hop and techno with regional ethnic infusions, from ragga and soca to kwaito to funk carioca and even grime. (Brazilian bailé funk is an especially pertinent reference point, given the shared language and a comparable aggressively playful vocal approach; world-traveling ghetto-funk hype man Diplo's interest in the group is another relevant clue.) To get specific, though, it's not as if BSS are purists. As originators of Kuduro's heavily electronic "progressive" strain, their cross-pollinated hybrid grooves are as restlessly varied as they are relentlessly energetic, rife with unpredictable sonic shifts and dense with all manner of aural debris (sirens, bird calls, tribal percussion, industrial splutters and squelches, vocal cut-ups) flitting through their adrenalized, hard-assed beat concoctions. Hence listeners get tracks like "IC19," which swells from a skeletal dubstep throb to full-on glowstick-ready rave keyboards to a propulsive, percussive equatorial jump-up that even slips at one point into Baltimore club-styled electro breakbeats. Or "General," which is built around a scintillating Afro-pop guitar line but somehow wends its way into gleaming filter-house territory. And the less brazenly exploratory tracks are by no means less thrilling: the bouncy "Kalemba (Wegue Wegue)," featuring Angolan MC Pongolove, and the carioca-styled "Aqui Para Vocês," with Rio's Deize Tigrona, are two of the more rousing dance cuts in recent memory. Indeed, the same could be said for the entire album. One hell of an all-embracing, boundary-defying, ghetto-blasting dance party.

The Bug: London Zoo review

Kevin Martin's previous album as the Bug, 2003's Pressure, was a vital, visceral blast of digital dancehall and exploratory dub; 2008's London Zoo is darker, grittier, tougher, and all the more exhilarating for it. The basic template is similar: rough-hewn electronic productions that are rooted in dancehall and hip-hop but don't feel remotely conventional, laced with hard-hitting toasts and vocals from a bevy of sharp-tongued guests. But Zoo ratchets up the intensity in both sound and substance, creating a striking symbiosis of sense and sonics wherein the dread and righteous rage expressed by the vocalists are equally evident in Martin's furious, foreboding beats and basslines. In both regards, London Zoo is an extremely potent, relevant record for its time, capturing an energetic spark that feels tied to the creative renewal of dubstep (a genre that Martin may have helped to germinate, and which in any case scarcely existed at the time of the last Bug album) as well as the tormented spirit of a city ground down and galvanized by recent socio-political developments, both local and global. Look no further than the opening lyrical salvo -- "So many things that get me "angry"" -- from veteran British reggae MC Tippa Irie, who rails about everything from suicide bombers to global warming to Hurricane Katrina over a kinetic ragga thump. As insistent as it is, "Angry" feels practically mild (and certainly peppy) in comparison to much of what follows: the ferocity of Warrior Queen (the doggedly propulsive "Insane," the hypnotic, bass-blasted "Poison Dart"), the apocalyptic, steely-eyed R&B of Ricky Ranking (ominously funky "Murder We" and solemnly soulful closer "Judgement") and, especially, the grim, severe tracks which feature Flowdan of the grime collective Roll Deep -- the dread sermonizing of "Jah War," the industrial menace of "Warning," and the utterly bone-chilling "Skeng." Such is the album's strength -- the power and inventiveness of Martin's productions, the astuteness and aptness of his guest selections -- that any one of these tracks could be singled out as a highlight. (And the remainder aren't far behind; the washed-out calm of "You & Me" and lone instrumental "Freak Freak" do offer a respite of sorts, as they're merely spooky rather than gut-wrenchingly tense.) Taken as a whole, London Zoo is simply a masterful statement, and one that cries out to be heard: as intense as it is, it's hardly inaccessible -- hooks abound in the vocal contributions and Martin's grooves, while sometimes discordant and oppressive, are never less than riveting.

Tittsworth: Twelve Steps review

Like many a great party album, Twelve Steps is a gleeful hodge-podge; rooted in the inherently hybrid-friendly Baltimore club music for which Tittsworth is generally known, but flirting heavily with hip-hop, R&B, and straight-up pop, as well as slightly more abstract synthesizer electro. Notably, it may be the first actual artist album to be released by a Baltimore-associated producer in the style's 20-year history (albeit by an interloper -- the D.C.-based, half-white half-Asian Tittsworth is a self-described outsider and hardly a genre purist), arriving at a moment when the sound has been steadily bubbling into wider consciousness for several years. Fittingly, flagrantly, the guest-studded Twelve Steps is tailored for maximal crossover appeal -- not that that's much of a stretch for a genre based around readily danceable breakbeats and frivolous novelty hooks. The challenge in adapting it to the album format is keeping that focus on fun and immediacy while crafting a sufficient variety of songs that are at least interesting enough to merit repeated listens. Tittsworth succeeds on most counts, relying on his considerable production skills to keep things buoyant even when the songs themselves come up short. Which a handful definitely do: the gimmicks wear thin on the predictable "Drunk as Fuck" (featuring Bay area hyphy stars the Federation) and "Bumpin," (featuring the sound of a drunk partier bumping into the turntables), while the vaguely R&B-tinged "Almond Joy" and formulaic shout-out track "B-Rockin" commit the mortal sin of being boring. Thankfully, the pacing is peppy enough and the highlights high enough to overshadow these dull patches: dumb-dumb lead single "WTF," with raps by Kid Sister and Pase Rock, is insipid but enjoyably spunky; "Broke Ass Nigga" compensates for its obviously questionable taste with irresistible stuttered electro breaks and some of the most absurd nutty one-liners since the Pharcyde's "Ya Mama"; best of all, though, is the surprisingly gorgeous "Here He Comes," a pure pop love jam which cops a hook from Hall & Oates and sports the silky vocals of Nina Sky (of "Move Ya Body" fame), along with Miami rapper Pitbull. Though the record was obviously a party to make as much as it is to listen to, some of the most intriguing and satisfying moments come when the guests clear out and Tittsworth is left to work his electronic magic alone, as on the majestically moody opener "Haiku" and the floaty, meandering "4.21." All told, there's a little something for everyone, plenty of fun and games, and it doesn't overstay its welcome -- even if nothing here is truly stunning, it still makes for a great party.

Sway: bio, This Is My Demo and The Signature LP reviews

The ever-ambitious Sway DaSafo, who worked his way up from the underground to become one of the most visible rappers in the U.K., while remaining smugly unsigned, now has his sights set on the world. At least, that's the impression one gets from his sophomore full-length, The Signature LP, so named partly in reference to his recently inked international record deal with worldwide superstar (and fellow West African) Akon's Kon Live label (he's still technically independent in the U.K.), a move that may or may not succeed in spreading his fame beyond Britain's borders. "Let's take music all around the world/I can't do this by myself," he sings on the globetrotting, vaguely tropical-flavored "Special Place," but Sway's far too enterprising to be satisfied with utopian daydreams, so he's concocted a handful of flagrant crossover bids, with a parade of known and unknown guest artists, to put those words into action. These include the inevitable humdrum Akon collab "Silver and Gold" (moral of the story: strippers will steal your money); the smooth R&B/pop of "Saturday Night Hustle," an '80s throwback featuring British neo-soul crooner Lemar (best bit: Sway raps his clothing sizes, in case you want to give him any clothes); and the treacly "End of the Road" with Sting's daughter Coco Sumner. There's nothing horribly wrong with any of this, but none of it particularly plays to Sway's strengths either -- and he's always been likable and engaging enough on his own to make watered-down, overtly attention-grabbing tracks like these feel doubly unnecessary.

While his rapid-fire flow remains as impressive as ever, and his charisma is largely undimmed, Signature displays too little of the irreverent, happy-go-lucky spirit that made early singles like "Little Derek" so delightful. With a couple of exceptions -- including the bouncy highlight "Say It Twice" (which he does, clever-cleverly, with every line, at least for the first verse and hook) and the jokey "Jason Waste," an intermittently amusing character number relating the zany misadventures of a jobless loser -- this is a surprisingly serious-minded album, at least for the impish Sway. But then, he's always been more than just a jokester; he's as much a swaggering, boastful battle-rapper (a persona that crops up here on "Stereo" and the enjoyably epic, overblown opener, "Fit for a King") as he is a big softie -- indeed, it may be his sentimental side that makes the greatest strides here, most notably in the emotional middle section that includes "Pray 4 Kaya," a legitimately poignant homage to a departed friend, and the affecting anti-violence plea "Walk Away." Ultimately, despite its pop moves and world-conquering aspirations, The Signature LP may still be too idiosyncratic, too British, and too gloriously scattershot to succeed on the mass scale Sway seems to envision. It's hard to imagine, for instance, the U.K. single "F UR X," a jittery, grime-ish txt-message battle of the sexes, playing to an American audience. But that doesn't stop it from being a readily enjoyable listen -- its eclecticism practically ensures that you'll find something to like here -- and Sway's fans, once they get used to some of his more excessive departures, will realize that he truly hasn't changed all that much.

Lil Mama: VYP: Voice of the Young People review

Lil Mama (née Niatia Kirkland) broke out in a big way in spring 2007 with "Lip Gloss," a Top Ten novelty single built around an astoundingly simple but effective beat and some legitimately impressive rapping about an unabashedly frivolous subject. Despite that track's earworm resilience and Kirkland's guest turns on high-profile remixes for several of the year's biggest singles (Avril Lavigne's "Girlfriend" and Rihanna's "Umbrella"), it took almost a year for her debut album to appear, by which time her rising star had lost a good deal of momentum. That's a shame because VYP: Voice of the Young People presents Lil Mama as one of the most promising female rappers in years; a likable and amply talented performer with a refreshingly open-ended, still-developing approach that lets her flit convincingly from goofy, hook-heavy pop to heavier, more introspective material, although all the stylistic and thematic hopscotch results in a somewhat unwieldy album and a persona that's complex but a little naggingly undefined. The album's also over-long, even if it has little truly weak material, but -- aptly suited to the iTunes age -- it's helpfully compartmentalized, with brief explanatory skits serving to separate the opening set of upbeat, crossover-ready tunes from segments focused on socially conscious story-telling ("Gotta Go Deeper") and relationship issues ("Emotional Rollercoaster"), before a final pair of club jams cap it all off.

The opening section is easily the breeziest, featuring the lighthearted but infectiously cocky swagger that earned Lil Mama her fame, though its pop-happy attitude is occasionally complicated by confusing grasps at an ambiguously defined credibility. Perhaps to shore up the hip-hop realness she asserts on the intro, the album version of "Lip Gloss" is bizarrely interrupted partway through by the bare-bones, out of tempo "No Music" freestyle, while the belatedly preemptive hater-baiting "One Hit Wonder" awkwardly (if accurately) asserts her status as "one of the fewest female MCs of the century." On the other hand, she beefs up the youth-repping claim of the album title with the very silly "Wheels on the Bus"-quoting "G-Slide (Tour Bus)" and a recording of some cute tykes requesting "Shawty Get Loose," the infectious lite-R&B/dance banger which saved her from one-hit-wonder status by going Top Ten in early 2008 (thanks in part to the presence of guaranteed chart-greasers T-Pain and Chris Brown.) Later album standouts include "L.I.F.E.," an inspirational anthem of hope in the face of ghetto-life adversity, the emotional "College," about a four-year-old visiting her father in prison, and, on a different tip entirely, the jaunty duet "Truly in Love." Over the course of the proceedings a bevy of 2000s production heavyweights (among them Luke Gottwald, Cool & Dre, the Runners, and Scott Storch) contribute dependable if rarely revelatory beats that ensure Lil Mama's lips aren't the only thing that's popping. Although she deftly and admirably captures much of the struggle and contradiction that accompanies young adulthood, Lil Mama is a little too old, at 18, to bill herself as "the voice of young people" for too much longer -- but it hardly matters, as she's clearly well on her way to developing a strikingly original and versatile voice of her own.

Ida Maria: Fortress Round My Heart review

"Oh My God" was one of 2008's most explosive and ear-catching singles, a burst of punky guitar pop propelled by an electric vocal performance from 23-year-old Norwegian breakout star Ida Maria Sivertsen. "Oh, you think I'm in control," she taunts, her voice teasing out the tension between commanding authority and unhinged chaos -- she sounds at once powerful and vulnerable, ready to collapse or destroy at any moment. If the rest of Fortress Round My Heart can't hope to match the searing intensity of its calling card, much of it is nearly as engaging, both musically and emotionally. Sivertsen turns out to be as generous with hooks as she is vocally captivating, and although her loud-mouthed, liquored-up confessionals can sometimes grow grating, they're more often than not genuinely affecting. Wisely, she keeps things pretty peppy, with plenty of giddy rave-ups (the best being "Louie," "Queen of the World," and the cheeky "I Like You So Much Better When You're Naked") and only a few (less memorable) moments of downtempo tenderness (the ballad "Keep Me Warm," addressed to her coffee and cigarettes). Throughout, she offers an endearing mixture of pop sweetness and punky toughness, writing with honesty and humor on a prototypically rock & roll slate of subjects: lust, loneliness, desperation, booze, and God. That last, obliquely invoked in the opener, crops up again in the curious allegory-song "Stella," which imagines Him falling for an aging hooker and offering her the world (literally) for her affections. In the album's so-so, overly sober finale, "See Me Through," she addresses the deity directly, asking "When's the time for me?" Listeners will have to wait and see on that score, whether she grows up and calms down or if age only sharpens her rage, but for all her all-too-human flaws, with a set of songs this strong, it's safe to say her time has already arrived.

Per Gessle: Party Crasher review

The English-speaking world has more or less forgotten about Per Gessle since Roxette's dissolution in the mid-'90s. But the Swedish songsmith -- a major star in his native country -- never stopped churning out hummable, hooky pop, both solo and with the eventually re-formed Roxette. Party Crasher is his third English-language solo album and seventh overall, and it's about as solid as they come. The sheeny, synth-kissed production feels dated (circa the original Roxette era) in a way that could almost be hip...well, almost. (If the title's supposed to suggest that Gessle's crashing the late '00s' perpetual retro-'80s borrowed-nostalgia party, it's mostly a failure on that count.) But well-crafted melodies never go out of style, or at least they always come back around, and there is certainly no shortage here. The fizzy electro-pop single "Silly Really" sets the tone, musically and conceptually (it's a perfect frivolous Gessle song title, blithely devoid of any discernible meaning) and it's a blast. The supremely Cars-esque "Gut Feeling" and the goofy, surf-tinged "Thai with a Twist" (complete with sax solo, crowd noise, and vocoder breakdown, and no, the title doesn't make any more sense in context) may be even better. But the best stuff on here is the actually the mellower material: lush slow jams like "Hey, I Died and Went to Heaven" and "Perfect Excuse" (two of several tracks that benefit greatly from the vocal contributions of Helena Josefsson) and especially the breezy, buoyant, Caribbean-flavored "Breathe Life into Me" and "I Didn't Mean to Turn You On." All told, an impressive showing and a splendidly enjoyable album.

Alphabeat: Alphabeat review

Before taking the U.K. charts and the pop-loving blogosphere by storm when it was rejiggered and reissued in 2008, with a clarifying "This is" appended to the title, Alphabeat's debut, originally eponymous and released only in their native Denmark, was one of the most sterling and undersung power pop records of 2007. The differences between the two editions of the album seem, at first blush, fairly cosmetic. Although three perfectly lovely songs ("Ocean Blue," "Into the Jungle," and "The Hours") were swapped out altogether, most of the six which were re-recorded (the indelible "Fascination" was left untouched) bear relatively superficial changes: some additional keyboards here, a tacked-on string section there, and a generally beefed-up, plusher sound. But the cumulative effect is definitely evident, and it's not necessarily for the best. It's hardly enough of a transformation to render the album unrecognizable -- after all, the Danish version had plenty of '80s-inspired excess to begin with, and its undeniable pop thrills are, for the most part, undiminished. But some of the delirious scrappiness of the more guitar-oriented original version does get lost beneath the layers of synth pop gloss. The spunky "Boyfriend" turns full-on Euro-dance, while the charming choral oddity "Rubber Boots/Mackintosh," which distinctly recalls the New Pornographers at their most beautifully idiosyncratic, is reborn as a far more pedestrian synthesizer slow jam, simply titled "Rubber Boots." Though these qualms shouldn't deter the curious from checking out the more widely available This Is Alphabeat -- which is, indeed, nearly as glorious -- avowed fans will definitely want to seek out this version, for the three jettisoned tracks if nothing else.

Fredrik: Na Na Ni review

The core of Fredrik is the duo of Fredrik Hultin and Ola Lindefelt, a pair of Malmö-based musicians who also happened to form the band the LK. The music they create on Na Na Ni, however, is quite a different animal from that group's buzzy electronic pop, applying the same ear for sonic detail and an unerring penchant for melody to a more folk-inflected and more resolutely understated set of compositions. The results are nothing short of enchanting, using a consistent, gently evocative sound palette -- Hultin's acoustic guitars, voice, and accordion, and Lindefelt's bells, drums, cello, and delicately wheezy electronics -- to balance deceptively complex, layered arrangements with a charming, lo-fi intimacy. March-like singalong "Black Fur" opens the album on an especially cheery note, which is taken up more modestly on the calmer but amply catchy "Alina's Place" (whose poetically cryptic lyrics make it somewhat less reassuring) -- no less winsome, though, are the more abstract instrumental pieces which make up half of the track list. The title of one, "Angora Sleepwalking," succinctly captures the softness and sweet, dreamlike strangeness of the prevailing mood; another, "Morr," intentionally or not provides a clue to Hultin's musical aesthetic, suggesting their similarities to the less overtly electronic end of that German label's output, and the work of Múm in particular. One might also draw comparisons to the gentle, textural experiments of Silje Nes, or, to name some non-Scandinavians, the fractured folk of Animal Collective, Tunng's woodsy whimsy, and even Sufjan Stevens' antiquarian-minded indie pop. Fans of any of these artists would do well to investigate Hultin's fine debut; they will discover not just a handful of hummable songs, but a curious and comforting sound world that's at once familiar and unique unto itself. Also worth noting is the Kora Records' elegant package design, which makes Na Na Ni a joy of a thing to hold, and the appropriately intriguing booklet etchings by Warren Hilt.

pop science

Went to a show last night at Borrowed Time, a now-defunct (last night was its last night) art/performance/community space in a temporarily vacant house. It was nice to see Charles Latham, an anti-folk fellow (I feel like I'm allowed to throw that tag around casually at the moment, since I just wrote a review of Jeffrey Lewis' [fantastic] new album without mentioning it once) whom I've seen before at the Mitten. And of course it's always a treat to hear Emily, whom my colleague A.D. just described, preposterously, as "sensationally bitchy." It'd been too long. Her cough was doing fun things for her singing voice. (A little sad too, tho, and I can't help subvocalizing along with some wistful harmonies...)

But I especially enjoyed getting to hear Deirdre and Conor, a new-to-me Philly duo who played guitar/cello/vocals duets, assisted by a cool old Korg analog drum machine (this one), with earnest and sappy lyrics about domestic love, often using silly science and math metaphors (and also a fight song for accountants.) Aw. You know I have a thing for couple bands. They made me think of The Long Lost, not so much for their music (though Deirdre's faint, flat singing is reminiscent of Laura Darling's) but their general aesthetic, which is not just gentle and sincere but so markedly, overwhelmingly White it's kind of amazing. You don't often hear music that feels so utterly un-inflected by (notionally) "Black" pop styles and yet is clearly very genuine in its own right. Diggin' it. Here's what they look like, presumably taken on their wedding day:

After their set, Conor told me about a project a friend of his had done, called pitchformula, wherein he analyzed Pitchfork reviews to see which words appeared more frequently in positive vs. negative reviews. Which I think is mostly interesting as a way to see how critics write differently about music they like vs. music they don't like. Weirdly, one of the words way more likely to appear in negative reviews is "lyrics," while generic instrument terms like "guitars" and "drums" are by far the most predictive of positive reviews. Apparently, critical Pitchfork reviews, at least through 2004 (when he did the project) were less likely to actually talk about the music, more likely to employ "meaningless" value judgments, attacks on the intelligence of the artists and/or listeners, and references to commercialism. It would be really fascinating to know how these results would be different now, five years later; I'd definitely expect to see some substantial changes reflected in both the writers' attitudes and their preferences, following the anti-Rockist revolution, the broadening of P-fork's scope, stature and sensibility, etc. etc. (For some reason, the published results of the project mostly don't include words associated with specific genres; it would have been interesting to see how those skewed.) Also, would be really interesting to know how these results compare with, for instance, Allmusic reviews (which probably skew even more positive – though there's a much wider pool of reviews to draw on – but should ostensibly have less overt "critical bias," however that would come across.)

Apparently, this guy, Loren Wilson, was primarily interested in using this data collection/analysis in order to inform his attempt to write songs that would specifically appeal to critics, somewhat along the lines of Komar and Melamid's fascinating and bizarre Most Wanted and Most Unwanted songs (which are definitely worth a listen if you haven't heard them.) The resulting songs, somewhat predictably, feature many elements (textures, sounds, structural approaches, etc.) thrown together in somewhat overloaded tracks, the upshot of trying to use many of the "positive" qualities all at once (which Wilson justifies because "complex" and "unexpected" are listed high among the favorable attributes.)

It's easy to be skeptical of the legitimacy (scientific, that is, not aesthetic) of this kind of "systematic" approach – given the same lists of words, would many other musicians come up with something that really sounded like this? And – the obvious problem – does the way things sound really have anything to do with how "good" they are? (The answer ought to be no, presumably, but then he's not trying to make music that's "good," just music that will appeal to a certain set of people...albeit people whose criteria for good music should theoretically be especially broad and open. or maybe not.) In any event, the music he came up with does sound strikingly like certain critical-fave zeitgeists of 2003-04. (Also, they're pretty good, though the things that make them good are not really the same as the things that stem from the results of the data – instead, those qualities tend to make them predictable, on the one hand, and disjointed on the other, not that those things aren't also "interesting.")

Which, again, would make it really interesting to hear how it would be different if this project repeated now – if anything, the musical landscape as-approved-by-critics is even more scattered and heterogenous these days (even though a glance at P4K's Best New Music page does still reveal a somewhat surprising amount of more-or-less straightforward Indie Rock); I wonder if songs self-consciously based on current critical preferences would come off even more hopelessly jumbled.

EMPost

"Rock 'n Pop Swirl" – well, that's as good a way to describe it as any. [n.b. that this flavor, on offer at a Seattle Baskin-Robbins, features green grape and purple green apple sherbet.] Here's what I wrote for my rather ill-fated Citypaper blogs about EMP. (Electrifying Conclusion TK.]

EMP: the Project. the Music. the Experience.

Each April, scores of music critics, journalists, academics of various stripes, and assorted nerdy sorts descend upon the Frank Gehry-wrought undulating chrome of the Experience Music Project in downtown Seattle for the EMP Pop Conference, a vaguely academic-styled weekend of papers, panels, and presentations about all things pop. That's "pop" in the broadest sense, mind, which might mean anything from techno, T-Pain, and reggaetón (the subject of a panel this year) to honky-tonk country, big band swing, and pre-war minstrelsy. For this year's 8th annual event, the theme is "Dance Music Sex Romance: Pop and the Body Politic." (That's a Prince ref, in case ya missed it.) I'm thrilled to be here; should be a fun weekend!

EMPirical Observations 2009: Day One

Nona Hendryx: Then and Now (top to bottom)

The conference kicked off this evening with an intriguing keynote conversation with veteran musician Nona Hendryx, conducted by Daphne Brooks of Princeton and Sonnet Retman of the University of Washington. Hendryx makes an entirely fascinating figure, especially in this context, not so much because she's a legend, per se, but simply because she's lived such an incredible amount and variety of popular music's history: from the girl group era of the early '60s, as part of Philly's own Patti LaBelle and the Bluebelles (an experience she described as "a large pajama party"), to swinging London in the heyday of Carnaby Street, to New York in the groovily liberated disco '70s (by which time the group had morphed into glam-funk fantasists Labelle) and the arty, AIDS-plagued eighties (when she collaborated with Talking Heads, Peter Gabriel, and Prince, among others, and launched her own Afro-futurist, avant-rock solo career.) And that's not even mentioning the "audio tutu" she's been experimenting with recently (an attempt, as she explains it, to become more of a cyborg.)

Add all that to the fact that she's black, female, and queer, and you could easily devote the whole weekend of intellectual discourse to dissecting just her life and work.

A generous hour and half proved hardly enough time to delve into that wealth of experience. The interviewers, fumbling with the powerpoint and fawning, at considerable length, over the current Labelle reunion, only managed to bring the discussion up through the mid-seventies before cutting to Q&A mode. Brooks' questions, while insightful and well-informed, sometimes tended toward overly academic cult-crit pontification – that's only customary for this conference, of course, but it didn't always seem fair to the mildly bewildered Hendryx, who offered up a few responses along the lines of "well, we just made music because that was what you did in those days." Still, she had plenty of perspective to offer, on the changing cultural and social currents of her times, and the education she picked up through collaborations and encounters with innumerable legendary musicians and producers.

It was a joy just to watch her relive some of those memories, even when (doubtless unlike any of the presenters who will follow her this weekend) she couldn't quite summon up the words to describe them.

EMPirical Observations 2009: Day Two

a (one-man) committee, working on the evolution of control

Today was the first full day of the EMP Pop conference, an annual gathering of rock critics, journalists, academics, and other musos. Last night's Nona Hendryx keynote (covered in great detail here), in addition to raising some resonant themes and offering some unique historical insight, made a very appropriate keynote in the way it hinted at the conference's fundamental strangeness. The subtly incongruous tone of the discussion, and the slight but tangible disconnect in mode between questions and answers, pointed up the tensions between conference-goers' often highly analytical manner of inquiry and the generally unacademic, and arguably anti-intellectual, nature of the subject material at hand: pop music and rock 'n' roll.

Similarly, many of today's presentations seemed, in various ways, intentional and otherwise, to embody some of the very themes they explored. Most obviously, and brilliantly, Douglas Wolk's presentation on the bizarrely disembodied activity of DJing, entitled "My Other Body is a Temple," enacted its thesis with striking literalness. Wolk never spoke, but instead "DJed" his paper in a bizarrely disembodied way, by playing recordings of other people's voices reading his words, over accompanying musical selections, as well as pressing play on a couple of highly entertaining archival video clips.

The inimitable Greil Marcus, a luminary not just as a music writer but as a writer period, shared a ruminative and highly poetic description of two seemingly unrelated artworks: Nan Goldin's "The Ballad of Sexual Dependency," a slide-show of several hundred images juxtaposed with a carefully selected soundtrack of songs, and Lonnie Mack's little-known 1963 soul ballad "Why" (whose emotional resonance he described in aching detail and in real-time, as the song played, to incredibly potent effect), thereby creating his own sublimely artful juxtaposition.

On a more troublesome note, a promising-looking panel addressing issues of gender and sexuality in electronic dance music culture, among other things, threatened to exemplify some of the very problems it was raising, in a highly uncomfortable manner, as the three male DJs/electronic musicians at the table seemed to visually and vocally overwhelm the lone female, Swedish DJ and sociologist Anna Gavanas. For better or worse, I missed the beginning of the panel, which apparently included Gavanas speaking while a track that prominently and repeatedly sampled the word "penis" played in the background, after an unfortunate quote from Danger Mouse about beatmatching being "for cunts." (Er, ahem.) But I did catch part of a largely unrelated segment wherein the mad-scientist-looking Mark Gunderson, a.k.a. TradeMark G of the Evolution Control Committee (creator of the delirious "Rocked by Rape"), gave a demonstration of his experimental live DJing interface, the "thimbletron," which involves a infrared LEDs attached to each of his fingers, a pair of Wii Motes, and a visible-to-the-crowd rear-projection screen. (see above)

Other presenters took the more traditionaly approach of just reading papers, illustrating them with audio clips where appropriate, which, to be sure, can still make for pretty provocative material. For instance, Robert Fink's witty and intriguing, if somewhat conjectural thesis on the "masochistic lover" persona in Marvin Gaye's early 1960s work, which drew on Freudian psychoanalysis, lyrical close readings, and musicological analysis (e.g. handclaps that sound like whips) – but resisted focusing on Gaye's famously fraught biography.

But the day's most exciting panel was also one of its least predictable, which deviated considerably from the standard text-based argument format in ways that fit right in with the physicality central to the conference theme. The "Rap Memes" panel opened with a tantalizing if frustratingly underdeveloped exploration of sexual entitlement in dirty south hip-hop from Tamara Palmer in the form of an 11-minute audio track mashing up bits of the myriad recent pop hits containing the phrase "It ain't trickin' if ya got it" with commentary from anonymous YouTube users. From there we shifted to John Caramanica and Sean Fennessy's tag-team joyride through the highlights of the (as they argued) preternaturally brilliant career-to-date of Soulja Boy Tell'Em, mostly via a series of YouTube videos, all of which can be found on this Tumblr. Finally, writer/performance artist Holly Bass presented "Pay Purview," a piece incorporating sources from Sir Mix-a-Lot to Tina Turner to a documentary on the Hottentot Venus, which involved Bass gyrating in a gold lamé outfit with a comically massive "booty ball" posterior – check out this video clip, cuz words can't really do it justice (caution – starts with annoying test tone):



To close out the day, Ann Powers conducted a breathless interview with hit-making songwriter extraordinaire Diane Warren. Contra her notoriety as the doyenne of schlocky, extravagantly over-emotional power-ballads (her catalog includes "Un-Break My Heart," "I Don't Want to Miss A Thing," and numerous numbers by Michael Bolton and Celine Dion, as well as Milli Vanilli and Ace of Base), Warren turned out to be delightfully unsentimental, sarcastic, and potty-mouthed, with an endless string of stories.

Quite a whirlwind of the pop world in one day... tomorrow I do it all over again, and see if I can keep my brain from completely overloading.