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From crocodiles to woodpigeons, I have featured a surprising number of bands that resort to their animalistic side for their namesake. Many of us have, at one point, come across the Discovery Channel to learn something that shocks us about animals. Whether it involves mating rituals or hibernation, there are certain behavioral characteristics in animals that make the human race seem dull in comparison. Perhaps this can explain why so many artists opt for an animalistic connection, one that makes their appearance seem more enigmatic and naturally inclined than the human species. Or perhaps it can be deployed in a symbolic manner, like the recently featured Bowerbirds. Unbeknownst to me before I wrote about them, the male bowerbird holds a colorful object in its beak to attract females during mating season. As it turns out, they do so to compensate for their lack of coloring, adorning their bowers with dead insects and other objects to distinguish themselves from the females. We can all agree that this tidbit is interesting, but how does it relate to an indie-rock band? For Bowerbirds, their style of instrumentation valued quality over quantity; the sparse amount of instruments was compensated for by arrangements brimming with passion, authenticity, and irresistible hooks. The group collected influences and ideas and wore them on their sleeves. Like the bird in their namesake, this distinction attracted an audience and distinguished them from their contemporaries.

For our next animal feature, we turn to a reptile with a reputation of being particularly rowdy. Who could it be kids? If you guessed Alligators, you are correct! Like Bowerbirds, this Seattle-based quintet takes pride in their name, even if the comparison to the scaly reptile is more ambiguous than that of a comparison to a bowerbird. Alligators claim that the animal in their namesake “have a peculiar mystique surrounding their existence”, citing the band’s own small-town upbringing as an example of a band that has risen out of ambiguity to hopefully conquer the nation’s attention span. Since their days in the local music scene of the greater Bremerton area in Washington, the five members in Alligators have been slowly climbing to the top. Longtime friends and collaborators, most of them were professionally trained in music and they all encompass a similar range of musical influences. They all mention Radiohead, the Beach Boys, and the Zombies most prominently, which is quite apt considering their sound borders between melodic experimentation and accessible pop. It is very typical of contemporary indie-rock, but their songwriting and ambitious song structures make their debut album, Piggy and Cups, something to get excited over.

The songs on Piggy and Cups vary in their introductory stages, ranging anywhere from the lush acoustical balladry of “If You Want To” to the rushing guitars of “Original Fear”. Regardless of where these efforts start though, they tend to almost always unfold into something highly excitable and genuinely enthralling. That may lead some to assume that Alligators are simply a continuation of the long line of generic indie-rockers that linger today, but even one listen to a creatively diverse song like “Original Fear” should calm those qualms. Joshua Trembley begins the track with vocals that appear more subdued than usual, only to introduce the listener to a falsetto-like range that coincides with increased intricacy in the guitar progressions and rhythm section. When Trembley proclaims, “When I woke up to the light of day,” the meatiest section of the track occurs, and boy is it good. The flashback to ‘90s alt-rock here is prominent, and the song’s conclusion with roaring guitars and coo-ing backing vocals is even better. Trembley demonstrates such intense emotion throughout this gem, perhaps taking away the spotlight from some great performances and intensely excelling songwriting. Repeated listens will solidify this song’s success though, and other gems on the album will be enjoyed similarly. The flow of Piggy and Cups is something that continues to impress me after a few listens; each song flows into one another more cohesively than most indie-rock groups these days, and for a group as ambitious as Alligators that is certainly an important skill to have.

Although I find too many of the songs on Piggy and Cups to contain too much structural diversity to become radio staples, there is no denying that a patient listener will surely be rewarded by the debut. It is a shame when actual intricacy and focus hinders an artist’s potential for recognition, so Piggy and Cups is yet another remarkable indie-rock debut that may be too diverse for its own commercialized good. The album’s opener and one of the more accessible efforts, “Where Does It Hide”, opens simplistically enough with linear guitar progressions and very ‘90s-like reverbed vocals, paving the way to a one-dimensional chorus that depends on halted guitars and vocal quips. However, both the verse and chorus merely end up serving as an introduction for greater things to come. After about two minutes though, we find the group resorting to electronic pop in a fashion that resembles a more wound-up Maroon 5. We find a bit of ‘70s pop present here, just like in the ending minutes of “Mama, Stop” where various vocal tracks collide to create something serene and expressive in accordance to the backing guitars. It seems that most tracks on Piggy and Cups open up with something accessible in order to prepare listeners for greater things to come, introducing anything from tinges of electro-soul to country-pop after that. After any given track on Piggy and Cups exceeds the two-minute mark, one can expect to hear a flurry of hooks and outstanding performances that provide Alligators with a lasting impression that seems more than suitable for a grand accomplishment in the vein of Piggy and Cups.

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Alligators - Original Fear

Download audio file (alli-ori.mp3)

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Alligators - If You Want To

Download audio file (alli-ify.mp3)

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Alligators - Where Does It Hide

Download audio file (alli-whe.mp3)

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Robert Bradley has strayed on both sides of the tracks. From singing on the streets of Detroit to appearing on major-label albums and in high-budget films, he is reflective of artists that maximize even the most humble of circumstances to acquire experience and eventually prevail. Street performers can live happily if funds never go awry and they genuinely enjoy playing music for a living, but there must be an apparent frustration within these artists. How can they not lament an inability to get their music heard beyond the street they are performing on? Many street performers have devoted their lives to music, so there must be some apparent desire for recognition. For many this desire is subtle, and happiness is simply derived from seeing a dozen or so people a day walk by and display some sort of enjoyment in response to their music. Bradley was never a stereotypical street performer since he became renowned for his singing at coffeehouses, Baptist churches, and Detroit’s Eastern Market for nearly three decades, a local legend of sorts whose soulful voice and enigmatic presence made hordes of passerbys stop and take notice. He is also blind, so one must feel sorrowful in the respect that he is not able to see the happiness that his music brings to people’s faces. He certainly heard their praise though, and two of those that took lauded him were Michael and Andrew Nehra, members of indie-rockers Second Self.

The Nehra brothers were immediately impressed by Bradley’s natural ability, ardent demeanor, and obvious commitment, prompting a discussion among musicians once they met him on the street. The story goes like this: the group was practicing for Second Self when they heard a distinctive voice coming from below their apartment. They followed the soulful croon until they came across Bradley, paving the way for a discussion regarding future collaboration. Robert Bradley’s Blackwater Surprise was formed then and it proved to mark a fusion of two generations, one consumed by blues and the other by alternative-rock. Bradley had decades’ worth of experience and his aged features showed that, while the Nehra brothers and drummer Jeff Fowlkes represented a bunch of fresh-faced indie-rock kids that were looking to add a twist to the occasionally generic alt-rock of the early ‘90s. An odd pairing to say the least, but it worked nonetheless and a deal with RCA Records took place shortly prior to the group’s debut album, Blackwater Surprise. Bradley’s years of cumulative musical experience and the Nehra brothers’ background in production were essential to the debut’s success, an impressive release that saw the blending of blues, soul, and gospel into a guitar-based formula that was easily received by the early ‘90s alternative-rock crowd.

Blackwater Surprise featured plenty of bluesy improvisation from Bradley, but the group’s second album, Time to Discover, resulted in a more expansive type of sound that found Bradley and his young backing band in a more collaborative environment. Bradley’s raspy vocals and honest lyrics were still the most distinctive parts of the release, but Fowlkes and the Nehra brothers provided backing instrumentation that provided more diversity, ambition, and infectiousness than the debut. The critical acclaim was even more prominent for Time to Discover too, with Allmusic calling it “the first modern blues classic of the new millennium.” One of Bradley’s best friends, Kid Rock, also made an appearance on the album before he was even relatively notorious. The acclaim was still not enough to keep the group on RCA Records though, as the style appeared too frustrating for commercial benefits. Some fans of blues found it to be too restrained, while alt-rockers found fault in its fusion of the past and present. Most critics and eclectic music fans enjoyed it though, so the group kept chugging along and signed with Vanguard for the release of their third album, New Ground, in 2002. This marked the departure of the Nehra brothers, but Fowlkes stayed on board and Bradley brought in Matthew Ruffino, a songwriter and guitarist. Similar results were achieved as on their RCA releases, drawing acclaim but not much in regard to commercial success. Critics saw it as consistency, but not enough in terms of improvement needed in order to vaunt the group into national recognition.

The group’s fourth album, Still Lovin’ You, featured Bradley leading the album more than before, taking sole songwriting track on every track apart from a cover of Isaac Hayes’ “I Thank You”. There was an additional emphasis on Philly soul in order to supplement Bradley’s vocals more comfortably, and it succeeded for the most part in another success that saw the band straying in a consistently good category that was not exactly “great” yet. This album was released in 2003, signaling a five-year wait in between the release of Still Lovin’ You and their new album, Out of the Wilderness. Efforts like “Alabama”, an ode to Bradley’s home state, slides more into classic rock territory; the sound is more reflective of The Allman Brothers while the chorus’ hook shows shades of Harry Nilsson. “My heart still lives in Alaba-a-ma,” Bradley croons during the gripping chorus. His voice sounds better than ever, and the backing instrumentation contains more swagger and hooks than all of his past releases. The greatness of “Alabama” even prompted the state’s governor, Bob Riley, to award Bradley with a Certificate of Commendation. Such a display is indicative of Bradley’s sheer poetic prowess, using both his vocals and vivid storytelling abilities to create something powerful and captivating.

In addition to the excellent “Alabama”, Out of the Wilderness contains plenty of material to get excited about. The swanky “Americaland” recalls vintage Elvis Costello with Bradley’s nasally mumbling, the organ’s eventual prominence, and the funk of the scraggly guitars, while “Love You in the Daytime” is strongly reminiscent of singer/songwriter balladry in the vein of Randy Newman. One of the album’s more sensitive cuts, “Beautiful Girl”, touches on the topic of dealing with a child leaving home. It is one of Bradley’s most lighthearted affairs but still achieves success based on his prevalent ardency, an aspect that is presented most prominently during the up-tempo chorus. “Cryin’ My Eyes Out” and “Gotta Find a Woman” are more conventional of Bradley’s soulful relations of despair and detriments, and the difference in tonality between tracks like these and “Beautiful Girl” or “Love You in the Daytime” makes the flow of Out of the Wilderness extraordinary. There is plenty to like here, as Out of the Wilderness is the album that has finally pushed Bradley from good to great. Although his past success is still respectable, his experience has finally paid off with his biggest success yet. The album has already generated unusual commercial success, with “Love You in the Daytime,” “Cryin’ My Eyes Out,” and “Everybody Wanna Party” appearing in the movie Love n’ Dancing with Billy Zane and Amy Smart. As Bradley’s track history shows though, I doubt he cares much about Hollywood success. Out of the Wilderness is a clear success that will bring enjoyment to many people, and that is the most important thing to the Alabama native.

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Robert Bradley’s Blackwater Surprise - Alabama

Download audio file (rbrad-ala.mp3)

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Robert Bradley’s Blackwater Surprise - Love You in the Daytime

Download audio file (rbrad-lov.mp3)

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Robert Bradley’s Blackwater Surprise - Beautiful Girl

Download audio file (rbrad-bea.mp3)

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Comparisons are futile for Spencer Krug. His rare capacity to manufacture several releases per year is impressive in itself, but Krug’s work ethic is not the direct cause of his esteemed status. His prolific tendencies naturally tend to result in additional opportunities that allow him to dabble in everything from subdued key-based electronica to fiercely empowering rock music; this stylistic multifariousness has enhanced his eclecticism and creativity, not to mention the avid work ethic that created these accommodating circumstances for him in the first place. Consequently, his approach is presented with new variations that have been both subtle and prominent. His main projects – Sunset Rubdown, Wolf Parade, and Swan Lake – all represent differing styles and approaches in some manner, but even the different albums within each project encompass a separate style of instrumentation or thematic focus upon each release. Krug’s renown has derived in some part from his eclecticism, but it is his ability to simultaneously remain eclectic and thematically focused that has made his name synonymous with the quality indie-rock of this decade.

To hear Krug’s constant brand of eclecticism in action, Sunset Rubdown’s discography offers chronological progression at its finest. Each of his albums under the moniker have played cohesively despite their ambitious tendencies, and each album seems to explore new trends while not entirely dismissing the past. Sunset Rubdown’s second full-length, Shut Up I Am Dreaming, emphasized a minimalistic disposition of drum machines and synthesizers, while the subsequent Random Spirit Lover beautifully juggled newly exposed art-rock intricacies with the minimalistic trends displayed previously on Shut Up I Am Dreaming. With each passing album, Krug explores new stylistic territory without neglecting his past successes. Some artists remain stuck in the past, while others are too ambitious for their own good (and the audience’s). Krug is one of the rare few that have found the middle-ground, making nothing certain about the distinctions of his future works. The only thing we can be certain of is his incomparable nature, as using comparative practices to identify an artist that ceaselessly and successfully alters their output is useless and potentially insulting.

2008 was the first year without a Sunset Rubdown album since their formation, but the absence can be attributed to an arduous work ethic as usual as Krug continued to tour with his various groups and work on the acclaimed sophomore albums for Wolf Parade and Swan Lake. How he managed to find the time to tour and create these three albums should impress even the most active musicians, but what is even more impressive is how all three albums are remarkable in their own right. The album designed for Sunset Rubdown, with the interesting title of Dragonslayer, may take the cake as the most accomplished though. Wolf Parade has long been regarded as Krug’s most accessible and commercially successful project to date, while Swan Lake is most notable for its collaborative emphasis on both ambitious experimentation and conciseness. Neither Wolf Parade nor Swan Lake have explored seven-minute epics or altered their stylistic approach significantly like Sunset Rubdown, leaving little doubt as to what Krug’s most adventurous project is. Ambitiousness does not always result in success, but Krug has meticulously crafted an album that surpasses all of his previous releases in terms of creativity, focus, and even accessibility. Before Dragonslayer, I rarely heard tracks exceeding six minutes that were completely effortless to enjoy and appreciate. Such focus in an extended period of time is a trademark of Krug’s songwriting and Dragonslayer is a near-flawless example of his astute ability.

Shut Up I Am Dreaming toyed with minimalistic electronica and rock, while Random Spirit Loverwas a showcase of multi-layered art-rock expansiveness. Both albums had their stylistic exceptions that did not serve as stylistic disruptions due to their cohesiveness, but the difference in songs between the two albums was clear. For Dragonslayer, Krug resorts to his hardest-rocking repertoire yet and it results in eight very infectious tracks that maintain their flexibility and separable qualities throughout. Contrary to the abundant use of varying effects throughout Random Spirit Lover, Dragonslayer utilizes little in terms of studio additives. In regard to the instrumentation and content, this is one of Krug’s rawest albums yet. However, instead of coming across as sloppy or uncoordinated it feels the most alive out of all his releases. The instrumental flexibility has allowed for a higher capacity of expression, and it results in some of Krug’s most ardently successful tracks to date.

“Idiot Heart” evolves from the rhythmic strum of muted guitars to an anthemic sort of disposition with roaring guitars, chanting xylophones, and a build-up that rivals the likes of “The Men Are Called Horsemen There” (which Krug reminds listeners of before heading into the chorus of “Idiot Heart”). The lyrical-musical juxtaposition is excellent as usual, especially when Krug proclaims the following: “Now I was never much of a dancer, but I know enough to know you gotta move your idiot body around.” Immediately after speaking of an inability to dance, percussion appears for the first time and the track reclaims the rhythmic infectiousness that the introduction did not initially emphasize. The line seems ironic at the time since the progression that follows is irresistibly danceable like few Krug efforts before it, just going to show how thought-out and thematically effective the tracks on Dragonslayer really are. Excluding the concise ode to “The Men Are Called Horsemen There” after the first section, “Idiot Heart” has three sections that differ dramatically from one another. Krug’s songwriting shines though, as the contrasts find subtle similarities that allow for the cohesive management of each segment. Instead of a song with three or four highly contrastable sections, “Idiot Heart” is an outstanding effort that shows Krug’s ability to combine unconventional intricacy with surprising accessibility, resulting in a track that rings with the excitement and ardency that fans of Krug have come to expect.

Dragonslayer’s opener, “Silver Moons”, does not have the roaring guitars of “Idiot Heart” or the distorted exuberance of “Black Swan”, but it stands triumphantly as a masterful opener that combines Krug’s soft-spoken balladry with his rock-based enthusiasm. The verse begins with a lush piano and an echoing guitar, with Krug’s familiar yelps and quivers topping off a fantastic chorus where Krug and Camilla Wynne Ingr lament over days lost and forgotten. Since the album contains no true ballads to speak of, “Silver Moons” establishes itself as a sentimental favorite from the get-go with romanticized metaphors and piano-centric melodies. In addition to her role in “Silver Moons”, Ingr appears more prominently on Dragonslayer than any of Sunset Rubdown’s other albums. Her poppy vocals in the fantastic “Apollo and the Buffalo and Anna Anna Anna Oh!” supplement the power of the second chorus, though the song’s western-y twang and Krug’s outstanding vocal work reach greatness on their own. Calling this track one of Sunset Rubdown’s best efforts would not be an understatement, whether one looks to the irresistible chorus or the outro where Krug and Ingr present a series of slick guitar progressions and catchy chants. Like most Krug efforts, the song is fun to analyze and the ambiguity simply adds to the allure. It exemplifies his ability to write accessible gems without resorting to generic simplicity, as “Apollo and the Buffalo and Anna Anna Anna Oh!” succeeds tremendously despite its prevalent hooks and conventional structure.

The length of Dragonslayer is a respectable 49 minutes, but Krug’s endless output will likely cause listeners to crave for more once the album’s epic “Dragon’s Lair” concludes. One could consider this a counterpoint to “Kissing the Beehive”, though “Dragon’s Lair” is more diverse in its overall structure and thematic touch. The growls of Krug are powerful as he sings “so you can take me to the dragonslayer, or you can take me to Rapunzel’s windowsill”, preparing the way for an energized guitar solo and a series of high-pitched synths. The “woah”s and “ah-hu”s over the guitar solos are sincerely effective, as is the medieval-feel of the overall track in the primary melody and key accompaniments. “You Go on Ahead (Trumpet Trumpet II)” and “Nightingale / December Song” are both successful in their interesting rhythmic build-ups (muted chords and electro loops), and the latter takes on a brooding Decemberists-like folk feel that has Krug singing of yearning for the Nashville skyline over music that feels like 1700s pirate music. As odd as that comparison sounds, Krug’s enthralling vocals and songwriting ability creates imaginative material like this that is both stylistically alive and contemporarily relevant. Krug shows he can create vivid folk on “Nightingale / December Song”, nostalgic arena-rock on “Idiot Heart” and “Dragon’s Lair”, and fist-pumping anthems in “Black Swan”, but stylistic multifariousness is not the sole reason for Dragonslayer’s apparent success. It is the consistency, thematic focus, and sheer ability throughout the album that makes this one a potential classic. If anything, Dragonslayer will eventually serve as a reminder of Sunset Rubdown’s dominance after their days are over. After all, this decade deserves quality representatives. 9.0/10

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Sunset Rubdown - Apollo and the Buffalo and Anna Anna Anna Oh!

Download audio file (srub-apo.mp3)

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Sunset Rubdown - Silver Moons

Download audio file (srub-sil.mp3)

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Many musicians, regardless of prestige or intellect, tend to emit an appreciation for many varieties of art. They can stand afar as hobbyists of painting or photography, but few are brave enough to venture into being an actual participant of the art. The word “artistic” seems too broad most of the time, but there is no doubt that certain individuals posses a superior flair for fusing creativity, passion, and knowledge into an audible and/or visual experience. All arts require these aspects in some form, so it is no surprise that many successful artists are eclectically inclined within some fields of art apart from their primary field. In some cases, dabbling in an assortment of arts can eventually lead an artistically inclined but multifariously overwhelmed individual into a field that suits their personal abilities best. Here, a cumulative interest in art brought the initial founders of Bowerbirds together. The North Carolina-based trio has consisted of alternating members since their formation in 2005, but core members Phil Moore and Beth Tacular are indebted to a sense of artistic eclecticism among Bowerbirds’ members. Their style is highly indicative of stylistic transfiguration, altering accessible forms of folk and chamber-pop into accomplishedly unpredictable results that succeed after practically every attempt.

Lead vocalist, guitarist, and songwriter Phil Moore began writing songs for a then-unnamed project in 2005, looking toward friends in multi-instrumentalist Mark Paulson and Beth Tacular to provide additional input and initial instrumentation on the material. Moore and Paulson had been friends in middle school and fronted several bands together during their schooldays, including some hilariously ridiculous names like Speed of Sauce, Ticonderoga, and Blast Force. Tacular originally had little experience in music, doubting her ability to sing and perform. However, Moore recognized her potential and artistic ability and she joined the group in 2005. She had taught herself to sing and play the accordion, so her contributions were immediate in April 2006 when the trio began recording their first EP, Danger at Sea. She also has a background in painting and web design, the latter of which pertains to the web design company she and Moore own. After all, everyone needs some kind of day job. For these two multi-talented bandmates, it came in something that catered to both of their eclectic artistic talents. This undoubtedly helped her eventual work with the similarly inclined Moore and Paulson, the latter of whom Tacular credits for his “multi-talentedness.” That is a word that describes Bowerbirds as a whole, both in their personal lives and their band’s stylistic result.

Bowerbirds’ debut album, Hymns for a Dark Horse, was released in early 2007 to commendable reviews, drawing many comparisons to the freak-folk movement that was so prominent at the time (with the likes of Devendra Banhart, Joanna Newsom, etc.). The comparisons likely brought some extra fans to Bowerbirds’ camp, but I personally found the comparisons somewhat off the mark as Bowerbirds’ additional emphasis on pop songwriting and accessibility was contrary to many figures of the particular movement. This is further demonstrated on their new album, Upper Air. This is not music from the typical surveyors of indie-folk with hushed melodies, soft acoustics, and subtle choruses, but rather an inventive concoction of infectious pop and folk that combines for an experience that could be called soothing, refreshing, and impressive. In comparison to a genre like jazz, pop music often lacks a component of subtle variation in which suave key changes are implemented or chords are presented with a certain variance. Bowerbirds’ past material opposes these simplistic sentiments, but Upper Air shows them at their true best with unconventional intentions in familiarly accessible territory. There are minimalistic acoustical efforts like “Silver Clouds” and “Ghost Life”, but there also stands extremely impressive displays of expansiveness that include the lusty Parisian exoticness of “Teeth” and the ever-evolving franticness of “Beneath Your Tree”. These are displays of a band that clearly shows their ambition, but also of one that seems to have few limitations.

“House of Diamonds” plays like a pop gem, plain and simple. The opener to Upper Air certainly sets Bowerbirds off on the right foot, boasting with an irresistible melody being led by acoustics, keys, and Moore’s smooth voice. An instant comparison would be to Andrew Bird, but Grizzly Bear’s multiple harmonies over lush folk instrumentation remain as another comparison due to the often-simultaneous vocals of Moore and Tacular. The track begins simplistically with its acoustic and keys, but an excellent chorus introduces a great hook as the duo sings, “You are free, you are already free.” A string arrangement serves as a portion of the bridge… and in an instant Bowerbirds’ resourceful delivery is exposed. They do not adorn their music with unnecessary additives, instead resorting to a qualitative philosophy that opts to utilize additional instrumentation when it truly makes a difference. During this specific moment after the chorus, the strings work beautifully and any additional use would have taken away from its novelty. The same resourcefulness can be said for the other tracks on Upper Air as well. “Beneath Your Tree” sticks to the same instrumental arsenal throughout, but still feels like an ardent success to the group’s rhythmic variations, interesting chord use, and superb songwriting. They are all reasons why Upper Air is Bowerbirds’ biggest success yet, also proving indicative of their explosive potential and likely breakthrough.

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Bowerbirds - House of Diamonds

Download audio file (bower-hou.mp3)

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Bowerbirds - Teeth

Download audio file (bower-tee.mp3)

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Bowerbirds - Beneath Your Tree

Download audio file (bower-ben.mp3)

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It is difficult to criticize naming a band after a fruit. The edible sensations encompass a distinctive color and familiar taste, all while serving as a delightfully refreshing treat that caters to a broad audience. Most people do not just tire of enjoying fruit one day; I have never found myself taking an extended break from apples or oranges, or refusing to eat fruit because of dietary or political concerns. Unlike meat, there are no vendettas against the harmless nature of fruits. I personally enjoy both herbivorous and carnivorous food selections, but the universal amiability of fruits is something that is hard to deny. When brainstorming band names, I am sure the four guys from Pomegranates had something similar in mind. The name already allowed for a specific color to represent any band logo, t-shirt, or memorabilia, but even more importantly it proved indicative of a style that coincides with the familiarity of contemporary indie-pop but exposes it in a way that is refreshing and memorable. Like the fruit they so effortlessly elude to in their namesake, Pomegrantes’ music is a delightful entity that retains both its familiar and refreshingly new qualities to result in something irresistible and wholesomely accessible. It also helps that their CD case seems to smell vaguely of pomegranates, even if my mind is just playing tricks on me at this point.

In addition to their tastefully modernistic sound, Pomegranates run among a crowd of current bands that appeal to the music blogosphere in a big way. They are just as receptive toward the power of music blogs as the bloggers themselves; they note on their MySpace that reaching #11 on Elbo.ws’ blog aggregate is one of their proudest accomplishments. Listening to Pomegranates, it is hard to blame them for valuing this demographic so importantly. Groups like Islands, Wavves, French Kicks, and a countless number of others appear indebted to blogs for their well-deserved but arguably overblown status of success, primarily because they all tread in stylistic waters that are ambitious enough to be classified as avant-garde but also accessible enough to appear on most radio stations without a hitch. The specifics vary from artist to artist, but Pomegranates certainly appear to be on the verge of a breakthrough with the flexible indie-pop presented on their second album, Everybody, Come Outside!. The instrumentation rarely alternates between songs, with an assortment of guitars and keys often leading the way, but it only goes to show Pomegranates’ songwriting strengths even more prominently. Their style of indie-rock is by no means eclectically impressive or groundbreaking, but the things that they do with such familiar components are what separates Pomegranates from most of their contemporaries.

Like most groups of a blog-friendly indie-rock vein, the vocals in Pomegranates are vital to the success of their songs. Since influences seem to play a larger role than innovation in their style, it seems mandatory in these types of groups for the vocals to encompass proper ardency and harmonic flexibility without resorting to the clichéd components of drenched reverb or pitch modification. In Pomegranates, Joey Cook’s lead vocals are comparable to Phoenix’s Thomas Mars, although Cook retains a warmer and more sincere presence that appears to owe more to ’60s British pop in the vein of Ray Davies than modern-day indie-rock. There is plenty of angst in “Jerusalem Had a Bad Day” that is eerily reminiscent of Modest Mouse’s Isaac Brock and “384 BC” delivers some Conor Oberst-like drama-folk, but the bulk of Everybody, Come Outside! finds Pomegranates sitting in territory that benefits more from chirping guitars, twinkling keyboard melodies, and frantic percussion. Some eclectic qualities are certainly displayed on the album, but the direction of lead single “Corriander” coincides more with the brisk interpretation of summery indie-rock that proves more synonymous with Pomegranates’ radio-friendly contemporaries. This does not mean it is by any means generic though, as the song benefits from some fluttering guitar work and serene atmospherics that are contrary to the simplistic expectations surrounding most of today’s indie-pop.

With a bubbly bass line, hushed vocals, and a plethora of slick guitar progressions, “Corriander” accessibly establishes Pomegranates’ glistening style. The style itself traces back to early ‘90s alt-rock in the retrospective vein of Yo La Tengo and even Sonic Youth, with the larger emphasis on pop being indicative of current trends in music. Pomegranates keep these influences in mind with all the French Kicks’, Strokes’, and Phoenix’s in the world, allowing for a very enjoyable fusion of early ‘90s alternative with modernistic indie-pop often controlling the concise song structures and instantaneously enjoyable harmonies. “This Land Used to Be My Land” shows off some ambitious guitar work and recalls the days of British ‘60s pop music, despite for a chorus that allows Cook to heighten his pitch and resort to the twinkling of keys and lucid guitar work. “Svaatzi Uutsi” is also worth noting, serving as a tidy and stylistically fulfilling instrumental that plays like an enjoyable intermisson on the album. Varying influences interweave themselves subtly into the song structures, whether it is the prominently explosive power-pop and subtly rhythmic post-punk on “Southern Ocean” or the traditional acoustical folk interlaced with an exotic far-eastern melody on “Sail (Away with Me)”. With summer about to arrive, Pomegranates’ Everybody, Come Outside! is an excellent album for the season, bustling with illuminating melodies and excellent songwriting that allows Pomegranates’ style of indie-pop to flourish with each passing song. There are no particular songs on the album that will make Pomegranates the next Strokes, but Everybody, Come Outside! contains utmost consistency throughout that will likely place them among the same tier as groups like French Kicks and Phoenix. Great pop music with slight stylistic variations is what these groups do best, and Pomegranates is no different.

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Pomegranates - Corriander

Download audio file (pom-cor.mp3)

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Pomegranates - Southern Ocean

Download audio file (pom-sou.mp3)

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Pomegranates - Svaatzi Uutsi

Download audio file (pom-sva.mp3)

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Regardless of where one grows up, the role of music is prevalent enough to embed sentiments of nostalgia into one’s memory of their childhood. Whether it is predominantly exposed as cultural tradition or commercialized exploitation are the variables that depend on one’s location, but music’s cognitive effect is something that is definitive for all. Growing up in an urban, rural, or even isolated location certainly affects one’s lifestyle, but music tends to be universally relatable in that its effects have no bearing on one’s specific location. This is especially true for artists, as we have seen success stories originate from both the open countryside and bustling city streets. The artistically inclined struggle to avoid the allure of art’s impact and presence; they see its participatory effect as being either an escape from reality or a path toward the bright lights of stardom. Artistic fulfillment is derived from one’s reasoning for participating in musical practice, and whether it is to escape grim reality or to become etched in the history books is a motivational basis that tends to vary based on the individual. Pinpointing a specific artist’s true intentions for making music can be highly erroneous though, since there are so many possibilities. But if one pursues music as a gesture of adoration for the art in general, it is an act that has no geographical or cultural boundaries.

The appreciation of an art seems so sincere and instantaneous that the sociological effects appear to be either nonexistent or extremely minimal. There are certainly some implications – like how living in a wealthier area allows for more accessibility to the arts – but one’s level of receptiveness toward art is something that cannot be tampered with, regardless of where one lives. Tamara Nile grew up in a tiny cabin on Galiano Island, a British Columbian island with barely over 1,000 full-time residents. While most contemporary amenities were available to her, it is evident that living on an island has its fair share of artistic disadvantages. There is a good chance that not one decent band would inhabit an island of 1,000 people, if one band even existed at all. The lack of a music scene must have certainly subdued any artistic urges from younger residents, right? Not necessarily. As I mentioned before, I do not believe these sociological factors to have little bearing on one’s interest in art or their motivational ideology for pursuing it. Tamara Nile recently played in front of a very receptive festival audience, with the number of people in the audience being 20x more than the population of her native Galiano Island alone. She serves as evidence that not all artists are influenced by their surroundings. Some are just born to write damn good songs.

Although Nile lived on a small and somewhat isolated island, it would be unethical to not provide credit to her father, a multi-instrumentalist sidewalk entertainer. He travelled throughout North America and Australia mostly, with Nile tagging along ever since the young age of six. His influence on molding her prevalent appreciation for the arts is evident, and this in addition to her natural ability are the factors that make her one of the most impressive folk artists I have featured this year. Nile began trying her own hand at songwriting in her early teens and moved to Vancouver to pursue a music career at the age of 19. Her debut album, At My Table, was released shortly thereafter in 2006 to very positive reviews. Gems like “Trees” and “Get Together” showcased her modernistic take on folk, which combined typical acoustical folk instrumentation with unconventionally flexible rhythm sections, time signatures, and melodic accompaniments in the vein of shrieking electric guitars and howling vocals. It was a style that proved remarkably unique, treating the young songwriter to a plethora of festival appearances and awards. She was voted the “Best New/Emerging Artist” at the Canadian Folk Music Awards, indicative of her interesting take on folk music and its positive effect.

Nile’s newest release, The Cabin Song, is an EP that serves as a preview of her upcoming full-length, set to be released in early 2010. Despite being a short release, the seven songs (two of them being short interludes) on The Cabin Song are all highly impressive in their own right and do a remarkable job of showcasing Nile’s grittier, edgier, and more eclectic style of folk. There are some familiar folk elements, like the electric twang and acoustical accompaniment on “Cabin Song”, but subtleties that involve rhythmic and melodic elements are vital to the appreciation of Nile’s style. “Cabin Song” has a great feel to it with its brisk acoustics, but the throwback “Reverie” does even better with its revolving structure and sporadic percussion. “Reverie, come dance with me,” Nile pleads during the chorus, set afire by the frantic percussion. A concise banjo solo follows, and allows the old-fashioned and modernistic to fuse at least for a slight moment. This is what Nile does so well all throughout The Cabin Song though, so this is not the sole example. “Reverie” touts its heavy dub-bass line over evolving percussion and Nile’s ardent howls, but other tracks like the colorfully engaging “Sunrises” also achieve similar stylistic heights. For someone with Nile’s ability and appreciation for stylistic diversity, it is not surprising that growing up in a small town was not an obstacle in her triumphant path to success.

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T. Nile - Reverie

Download audio file (nile-rev.mp3)

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T. Nile - Cabin Song

Download audio file (nile-cab.mp3)

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T. Nile - Sunrises

Download audio file (nile-sun.mp3)

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Regardless of where one grows up, the role of music is prevalent enough to embed sentiments of nostalgia into one’s memory of their childhood. Whether it is predominantly exposed as cultural tradition or commercialized exploitation are the variables that depend on one’s location, but music’s cognitive effect is something that is definitive for all. Growing up in an urban, rural, or even isolated location certainly affects one’s lifestyle, but music tends to be universally relatable in that its effects have no bearing on one’s specific location. This is especially true for artists, as we have seen success stories originate from both the open countryside and bustling city streets. The artistically inclined struggle to avoid the allure of art’s impact and presence; they see its participatory effect as being either an escape from reality or a path toward the bright lights of stardom. Artistic fulfillment is derived from one’s reasoning for participating in musical practice, and whether it is to escape grim reality or to become etched in the history books is a motivational basis that tends to vary based on the individual. Pinpointing a specific artist’s true intentions for making music can be highly erroneous though, since there are so many possibilities. But if one pursues music as a gesture of adoration for the art in general, it is an act that has no geographical or cultural boundaries.

The appreciation of an art seems so sincere and instantaneous that the sociological effects appear to be either nonexistent or extremely minimal. There are certainly some implications – like how living in a wealthier area allows for more accessibility to the arts – but one’s level of receptiveness toward art is something that cannot be tampered with, regardless of where one lives. Tamara Nile grew up in a tiny cabin on Galiano Island, a British Columbian island with barely over 1,000 full-time residents. While most contemporary amenities were available to her, it is evident that living on an island has its fair share of artistic disadvantages. There is a good chance that not one decent band would inhabit an island of 1,000 people, if one band even existed at all. The lack of a music scene must have certainly subdued any artistic urges from younger residents, right? Not necessarily. As I mentioned before, I do not believe these sociological factors to have little bearing on one’s interest in art or their motivational ideology for pursuing it. Tamara Nile recently played in front of a very receptive festival audience, with the number of people in the audience being 20x more than the population of her native Galiano Island alone. She serves as evidence that not all artists are influenced by their surroundings. Some are just born to write damn good songs.

Although Nile lived on a small and somewhat isolated island, it would be unethical to not provide credit to her father, a multi-instrumentalist sidewalk entertainer. He travelled throughout North America and Australia mostly, with Nile tagging along ever since the young age of six. His influence on molding her prevalent appreciation for the arts is evident, and this in addition to her natural ability are the factors that make her one of the most impressive folk artists I have featured this year. Nile began trying her own hand at songwriting in her early teens and moved to Vancouver to pursue a music career at the age of 19. Her debut album, At My Table, was released shortly thereafter in 2006 to very positive reviews. Gems like “Trees” and “Get Together” showcased her modernistic take on folk, which combined typical acoustical folk instrumentation with unconventionally flexible rhythm sections, time signatures, and melodic accompaniments in the vein of shrieking electric guitars and howling vocals. It was a style that proved remarkably unique, treating the young songwriter to a plethora of festival appearances and awards. She was voted the “Best New/Emerging Artist” at the Canadian Folk Music Awards, indicative of her interesting take on folk music and its positive effect.

Nile’s newest release, The Cabin Song, is an EP that serves as a preview of her upcoming full-length, set to be released in early 2010. Despite being a short release, the seven songs (two of them being short interludes) on The Cabin Song are all highly impressive in their own right and do a remarkable job of showcasing Nile’s grittier, edgier, and more eclectic style of folk. There are some familiar folk elements, like the electric twang and acoustical accompaniment on “Cabin Song”, but subtleties that involve rhythmic and melodic elements are vital to the appreciation of Nile’s style. “Cabin Song” has a great feel to it with its brisk acoustics, but the throwback “Reverie” does even better with its revolving structure and sporadic percussion. “Reverie, come dance with me,” Nile pleads during the chorus, set afire by the frantic percussion. A concise banjo solo follows, and allows the old-fashioned and modernistic to fuse at least for a slight moment. This is what Nile does so well all throughout The Cabin Song though, so this is not the sole example. “Reverie” touts its heavy dub-bass line over evolving percussion and Nile’s ardent howls, but other tracks like the colorfully engaging “Sunrises” also achieve similar stylistic heights. For someone with Nile’s ability and appreciation for stylistic diversity, it is not surprising that growing up in a small town was not an obstacle in her triumphant path to success.

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T. Nile - Reverie

Download audio file (nile-rev.mp3)

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T. Nile - Cabin Song

Download audio file (nile-cab.mp3)

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T. Nile - Sunrises

Download audio file (nile-sun.mp3)

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The integration of humor and satire into music can be an incredibly complex process. By coming across as humorous or self-depreciatingly witty, an artist tends to imply a sort of nonchalant demeanor that can either benefit their music or prove to be the chief detriment that drags them down. Emotional depth can be presented in any form of art, but the stylistic diversity present within music causes the attempt to integrate humor to be more intricate and complex than usual. Musical humorists often look toward the direction of Frank Zappa for a proper influence, as he remains one of the few songwriters in history that was able to blend idiosyncratic humor and satire with a never-ending assortment of musical genres. Zappa was truly a musical chameleon who was able to reconfigure popular stylistic trends to make them compatible for his unique humor, whether it was scornful, satirical, or politically motivated. Nowadays, artists seem fearful of individualistic humor, dreading that it could be a detriment to their commercialized perception. Sure, we have groups like Flight of the Conchords, Tenacious D, and The Lonely Island cooking up some pretty hilarious stuff that also maintains musical relevancy, but the style of humor often seems so contrived and inseparable from one another. Zappa was a singular force in his heyday and he continues to be in his posthumous state, serving as an influence to those that have skill in both comedic and musical performance.

Apart from being arguably the most prolific songwriter of the past century, Zappa’s enduring legacy is indebted to a style of humor that remains interpretable, enthralling, and anything but generic. I enjoy a handful of comedy-pop groups like Flight of the Conchords, but their style of comedy seems more randomly selected than metaphorically interpretive. Despite their evident talents and deserving recognition, the success of a group like Flight of the Conchords appears to be more based in stylistic mockery and over-the-top deliveries. As a result, finding a band that maintains a generally consistent style with effective humorous additives is rare these days; modern technology makes it so easy to mock a style like electro-pop or glam-rock and throw a clichéd music video together. The reason for this, as stated before, all comes down to commercialized perception. Creating quality music is obvious to the success of this genre and all others, but treading waters within this tricky realm of comedy-music requires simultaneous lyrical wit, justified instrumentation, and a delivery that is unique enough to trigger laughter but not desperate enough to be deemed over-the-top. Despite a few rough edges, Dubious Ranger hearken back to the days of Zappa when interpretable comedy in music was not incorporated to make up for a lack of musical or lyrical ability, but rather as an indicator of the artist’s own personality.

Just by reading their self-imposed description, Dubious Ranger’s comedic side can be seen. They are – and I quote – “the sound of befuddled hipsters becoming Bowie-eyed party-commandos and dancing themselves to sleep while dreaming of a more perfect union between high-art, classical-virtuoso pretension and take-your-pants-off rock and/or roll.” Quite a mouthful I know, but the best thing about this wacky description is how surprisingly accurate it turned out to be. Lead vocalist and pianist Alexander Eccles had been labeled as a piano prodigy since his childhood, with his influences comprising mostly of classical and avant-garde composers. Although his leanings shifted a bit when his brother and bandmate, Jonathan, introduced him to David Bowie, one can still get a sense of Eccles’ classical influence in the band’s unpredictable song structures and the cohesive mannerisms between the vocals’ mood and backing instrumentation. There’s the “classical-virtuoso pretension” for you, with rock ‘n’ roll being infused by Bowie’s underlying influence and Eccles’ fascinating personality. Jonathan classifies his brother as “bonkers” but explains that he is one of the few honest songwriters out there. “In his mind, love really is a rendezvous with a waitress on a cargo ship full of ghosts,” he said, providing a preview of Eccles’ odd but immensely entertaining lyrical output. “You can say you’re confused, but don’t for a damn second accuse him of not being sincere.”

Confusion among listeners is imminent on Dubious Ranger’s third album, Uneasy Truce at the Watering Hole, but so is enjoyment. The San Francisco-based quartet shows their fascination with dance-punk, indie-pop, and glam-rock simultaneously, resulting in a style that is very odd but also aptly fulfilling. The uniqueness of their style is only appropriate when their satirical delivery is involved, as Eccles’ vocals tend to alternate pitches and lyrical focus on a whim over a flurry of his own intricate piano progressions and his brother’s swanky guitar riffs. The music video for “Weapon” features an assortment of backdrops from San Francisco to Hong Kong, and one can get a sense in the track itself of the musical dexterity involved. Brimming with enthusiasm and key-led hooks, “Weapon” is one of the group’s more accessible efforts but succeeds on several fronts with slick guitar use, frenzied vocals, and clever sampling. It would be easy to identify this one as power-pop, but the presentation is too lofty to be restricted by pop ideologies. “French Song” distinctively recalls Television, both in Eccles’ spot-on resemblance to Tom Verlaine and his brother’s impressively luminous guitar use.

The humorously metaphorical outlook on love in “Ghost Ship” masterfully juggles humor with romantic sentiments, accompanied by hazy organs and a great accompaniment (the latter is an aspect present on nearly every track; Jonathan Eccles really knows how to play). The ‘60s pop of “Idiot” and the haunting cabaret of “Frozen Places” show even more diversity on the album, especially in Eccles’ ardent vocal delivery of the latter. If any of these tracks are too straightforward for you though, then I would suggest “Gemini”, the 11-minute opener that opts to directly expose the group’s post-rock mannerisms and instrumental ability. Any of the four classically-influenced “Intermezzo” pieces also slide in neatly to the album’s tone, providing minute-long piano pieces in an effort to further separate the vast amount of ideas throughout the album. The multitude of ideas throughout the album may tend to confuse first-time listeners, but repeated listens will surely reward those that are skeptical of Dubious Ranger’s lofty ambitions. In my mind though, their ambition has been reflected perfectly on Uneasy Truce at the Watering Hole, an album that has enough highlights to compensate for all the vague ideas and metaphorical interpretation. After all, what else can you expect from a successful concept album?

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Dubious Ranger - Weapon

Download audio file (drang-wea.mp3)

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Dubious Ranger - French Song

Download audio file (drang-fre.mp3)

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Dubious Ranger - Ghost Ship

Download audio file (drang-gho.mp3)

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Urban legends and Hollywood productions certainly have a hand in molding the common perception of being in a band. Want a bowl of M&Ms in your room after the show, with all the brown ones removed? It’s on the way, sir. How about suggestively introducing some groupies to live seafood? Sounds fun. Between urban legends like these and the handful of pseudo-rockumentaries in the vein of Almost Famous, the romanticized concept of existing within a popular band has existed at least since the British invasion’s introductory use of rock ‘n’ roll stereotyping in the early ‘60s. Since that time, what these aspects of film often seem to overlook are the artistic obstacles involved in this creative process. They instead choose to focus on the overly grandiose lifestyles and unique personalities of the band members themselves, often showing artistic struggles as the result of drug addiction or non-commitment. After all, what is going to sell more: sex and drugs or watching an aging band attempt to write songs together? Commercialism tells us that it is the former, so it remains difficult to criticize these filmmakers for attempting to make the elements of existing within a popular band accessible and engaging. To deal with such expected fallacies though, looking at the reasons for the California-based Klum’s imminent success should enlighten many fans in regard to the inner-workings of a successful group more than any overly dramatized film or VH1 special.

When one looks back upon the most successful rock groups of the 20th century, it is distinctive that practically every group was based on collaborative quality. Led Zeppelin, The Beatles, and Pink Floyd all had some members that attracted the spotlight more than other members, but their mutual infusion of collaborative quality was a distinction that allowed their music to live without any major constraints that ended their careers as a group too abruptly. Many of these groups included members that could pick up nearly any instrument and start strumming away to perfection, indicative of their musical talent but also of their willingness to make communication between members as clearly as possible. Instrumental differences are a common detriment to a cumulative songwriting process, as the greatest songwriters tend to exhibit audible mastery of every instrument included in their work. Being a multi-instrumentalist or at least having a respectable grasp of a broad array of instruments makes working with others significantly easier, as their ideas can be extracted easily and fused with others to create something genuinely worthwhile. The six members in Klum are all multi-instrumentalists and it allows their songwriting to serve as a display of an extraordinarily impressive cumulative effort, reinforced by a mutual dedication to melodic astuteness and successful pop experimentation that each member demonstrates in their own unique way.

Klum’s second full-length album, We Carelessly Turned Amazingly Into Nothing, can show the band’s excellent chemistry just in the quality of the eleven songs alone, but experienced listeners will likely walk away more impressed by their ceaselessly unpredictable approach and tactful cohesiveness. Klum delivers the type of experimental pop music that hardly sounds experimental, an oddly exciting result that derives from infectious melodies, uplifting brass arrangements, and an unpredictable assortment of instrumentation and vocalists. As far as the classification of their genre goes, Klum and their efforts on We Carelessly Turned Amazingly Into Nothing are not restricted by any linear stylistic identity. “For Sale a New Life” plays like an amiable indie-pop charmer with its twinkling keys and ukulele accompaniment, while the fascinating “The Showmen” benefits from boisterous electric guitars, backing pub-like yelps, and concise brass arrangements. The former sounds like some spawn of Unicorns and The Leisure Society, while the latter finds distinctive comparisons to Elbow, British Sea Power, and art-rockers in the vein of Franz Ferdinand and Dogs. These comparisons alone suggest a vast difference in style on a track-by-track basis, which is true. But what must not go overlooked is Klum’s apparent ability to implement the stylistically diverse into a style that is honest, unique, and something that they can truly call their own.

While “For Sale a New Life” does a great job of showing off the band’s indie-pop leanings and “The Showmen” fulfills the task of successfully exposing Klum’s grittier, rock-oriented side, it is a few of the more interesting tracks on We Carelessly Turned Amazingly Into Nothing that really make it one of the most memorable debuts of the year thus far. The opening “Bashing for the Kids” plays with over-the-top guitar riffs and ardent vocal deliveries in a way that Black Kids would envy, indicative of Klum’s ability to bring out the expressively effective without appearing melodramatic. In fact, Klum seem free-spirited and fun most of the time, even during the somber chamber-pop balladry of “My Baby’s Just Stardust” and the twinkling build-up to the distorted angst of “Our Monster’s End.” Perhaps the biggest gem on the album though comes from “Nonbeliever”, an undeniably fist-pumping frenzy of a track that shows the group’s talents most prevalently. The various vocal melodies howl like wolves at the moon when the first verse is introduced, led astray over a catchy piano progression and a variety of samples that allow the song to be simultaneously haunting and infectious. The overlapping vocal harmonies of Brock Flores, Joe Fraley, and Aaron Arkenburg allow concurrent high-pitched and low-pitched vocals to supplement the brilliant intricacies of “Nonbeliever” as it flawlessly concludes the track. “Nonbeliever” should be all a listener needs to be convinced of Klum’s blatant ability, but the likes of “For Sale a New Life” and “The Showmen” also do a fine enough job. In fact, if I were forced to choose one track to represent this album, it would prove extraordinarily difficult. We Carelessly Turned Amazingly Into Nothing is too consistently memorable for such linear classifications.

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Klum - Nonbeliever

Download audio file (klum-non.mp3)

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Klum - For Sale a New Life

Download audio file (klum-for.mp3)

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Klum - The Showmen

Download audio file (klum-sho.mp3)

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If there is one genre that has been weakened by this decade’s demand for simplicity in popular music, alternative-rock likely takes the cake. There are groups like Nickelback and Feeder that constantly attempt to replicate a single idea, purely based on that idea’s prior success on the commercial market. As a result, many people have to come generalize alternative-rock as being naturally repetitive and devoid of any emotional variation. As the past shows, that could not be further from the truth. The definition of “alternative-rock” has undoubtedly changed since the ’80s, but most of us can remember when groups like R.E.M. and The Replacements ruled the alt-rock realm. Bands like those had a distinctive style that was incomparable to their peers; they also were able to make their material eclectic, unique, and engaging in ways that only an oblivious imitator could replicate. Guitars often led the pack of instrumentation, but it was never a given and song structures were generally just as unpredictable. Nowadays, you have alt-rock groups that literally use the same structure, instrumentation, and so-called “hook” for each and every one of their songs. They find success based on how they disguise this one-dimensional idea, not on whether they are able to impact the genre in an inventive and captivating way.

The lack of quality alternative-rock groups this decade has admittedly put the genre in an odd situation. The groups with plenty of exposure are often the ones that are least worthwhile, while a few of the others that strive for even a glance of success usually have the right influences in mind to emit an interesting enigma. I get a lot of the former in the mail from bands that are desperately trying to imitate the radio’s interpretation of quality alternative-rock. The latter, though, still tends to show up from time to time, in this case being the five guys in Armen Firman. Their name derives from the name of a man that reportedly attempted to fly in the year 852, with his conquest becoming a failure after his garment-fueled device fell to the ground. He sustained minor injuries though, mainly because he invented the parachute in the process of his own failure. When applied to this Australian five-piece, the name seems like a rather apt choice. Their style recalls a distant style of alternative-rock that has become nearly extinct since its disappearance in the late ‘90s, using a somewhat outdated approach to achieve success that is unparalleled by most new alt-rock groups of a similar vein. For a genre like this, going back in time is usually beneficial.

Although their debut EP consists of only five songs, Your Name in My Skin shows listeners all they need to know in providing surefire examples of Armen Firman’s throwback style of alt-rock. The production is often thick with a bustling rhythm section, aided by guitars that one would expect and orchestral implementations that one would not. A mixture of conventionalism and innovation is what Armen Firman do best on Your Name in My Skin. Conventionally accessible song structures and melodies allow their material to flourish in front of first-time audiences, but the differences between Armen Firman and other contemporaries is their variation. In regard to emotional depth, choice of instrumentation, and cumulative ardency, each track differs on Your Name in My Skin with deep resonance. They seem stuck in an age where groups like The Smashing Pumpkins, Yo La Tengo, and The Wrens stood tall with their diverse presentation of alt-rock, and sometimes being stuck in time can be the greatest thing in the world for a band of Armen Firman’s nature. The Melbourne natives seem well accustomed to alt-rock stemming from the US or UK, allowing them to tread the fine line between replicating influences and creating original gems.

Armen Firman’s songs, as a whole, tend to present an exterior that seems familiar, perhaps too familiar for some. But when listeners dig deeper and begin to treat the five-piece like, say, an alt-rock groups from the ‘80s or ‘90s, enjoyment should be imminent. Take “Porch Dweller” for instance, their first single. The song initially sounds like a journey into the world of dream-folk, taking on a twangy guitar progression, the steady use of a tambourine, and the subtle scent of an organ. When the other guitar track appears and begins to show the group’s intricate songwriting ability, it appears more reminiscent of exotic post-rock in the vein of Radiohead’s “Paranoid Android.” The chorus then strips itself down, led by the quick strums of a guitar and the concurrent usage of a delicate piano. A heavily reverbed guitar solo then paves the way for the song’s excellent conclusion. All these moments prove indicative of the band’s impressive grasp of variation, a skill that many contemporary artists fail to recognize despite their genre or level of commercial success. “In the Water” is a great display of the group’s energy, mainly because it allows vocalist Tom Whitty to cohesively show off his chops. The way his voice intensifies during the effervescent chorus reminds me of Chris Cornell, whose voice continues to impress me despite his music being mediocre at best. The ballad-like fluidity of “Only I Know You” shows the group’s impressive diversity even more, making a legitimate case for Your Name in My Skin being one of the better alt-rock EPs of the past several months.

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Armen Firman - Porch Dweller

Download audio file (afirm-por.mp3)

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Armen Firman - In the Water

Download audio file (afirm-int.mp3)

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Armen Firman - Only I Know You

Download audio file (afirm-onl.mp3)

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