It’s hard to imagine Menomena without the multi-talented Brent Knopf, who in 2011 left the band to pursue work with Ramona Falls. Knopf was instrumental to Menomena’s creative process. During live performances, Knopf played keyboard, electric guitar, and glockenspiel, all while managing MIDI tracks on a laptop. For the recording process Knopf programmed an application to specifically accommodate Menomena’s democratic songwriting process.

Paired with remaining members, Danny Seim and Justin Harris, the trio released unique experimental indie rock albums that helped shape Portland’s iconic music scene. In a July 2012 interview with Pitchfork’s Laura Snapes remaining members Danny Seim and Justin Harris expressed the band’s internal struggles during their 2010 tour after the release of Mines as “the beginning of the end.” Knopf left the band the following year for other endeavors. And that’s where this story ends, because this album is not about Knopf.

Menomena fills that void with an album that deals with a touchy subject: Parenting. Moms is an ongoing discussion between parent and son and pays homage to themes like family, change and growing old. It is far more personal than anything we have heard from Menomena. The lyrics carry more weight, exposing a personal side that Menomena avoided as a trio.  “Heavy Is As Heavy Does” contains this album’s defining line, “Heavy are the branches, hanging from my fucked up family tree and heavy was my father a stoic man of pride and privacy.” The song goes on to describe a son’s disappointment in his father’s absence.  Then, in the fashion of earlier works, Menomena washes over the track in a wave of gritty guitars.

Instrumentals don’t just replicate Menomena’s iconic balance between bass and percussion; they expose a quality of layering that requires thoughtful planning and patience. Points of interest include the steady build into gritty guitar on “Heavy Is As Heavy Does”, beautiful keys work on “Plumage”, and the lengthy metamorphosis of “One Horse” including the oddity of its hidden track, which sounds like something you’d expect Tom Waits to make guest appearance on.

Don’t fret, fellow Menomena fans. This band still has it. They’ve taken the gritty energy of their live shows and spread that energy throughout an album. They’ve retained their core sound without a core member and they’ve proven that it’s never too late to tell your family how you feel in front of a mass audience.

3.5 out of 5 stars

3.5 out of 5

Four Tet’s latest work, Pink, is full of dissonance, instrumentally diverse and quintessentially Four Tet. Sitting through the entire album is a journey, one that’s both difficult at times and instantly engaging. Pink takes the listener through a percussion and groove-filled land where loops build upon loops, house music is a clear influence, and Four Tet continues to prove he’s one of the most unpredictable artists out there.

Tracks on Pink have a discernible aspect of dissonance. It’s as though Kieran Hebden begins each track with two ideas. In one hand: a repetitive beat—a club worthy element. In the other hand: something soothing and vital. Then, like a skilled matchmaker, he smashes sounds together, forcing square pegs through round holes without losing the overall harmony. Take the opening track, “Locked”. There is a distinct club acceleration that is met with subtle, uplifting melody that creates space for the song to swell. On track “Lion” Four Tet opts for more straightforward dance percussion backed by an African cuica. The track plays against its own crisp layers with an ominous drone that gives weight to the steady, bright percussion.

Four Tet, like many experimental electronic artists, has scaled back the experimental elements and zeroed in on making more minimal elements pop against a house-inspired percussion arrangement. Personally, I enjoyed the experimental elements on all of Four Tet’s previous projects. But there is something to be said for the consistency of this album; every track seems to evolve from the same primordial goo.  My only criticism is that “Peace For Earth”, which runs 11 minutes and 22 seconds, feels a bit too similar to a long-winded Boards of Canada tune in its ambient-leaning nature. Sitting through it is worth the wait, however, because the following track, “Pinnacles”, will wash over you with its dizzying bass riff and free jazz elements.

I didn’t necessarily feel moved by this album, but it is without a doubt entertaining and dance-worthy. Bottom line: Another solid Four Tet album for you to move to. So go ahead.

3.5 out of 5 stars

3.5 out of 5

There is a fine line between the satirist and the jester. I’m still not sure which persona Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti adopts on their latest album, Mature Themes. How well could you sing about a schnitzel? To Ariel Pink the schnitzel is just another topic up for musical discussion, like love, or money, or nymphos—whose restless hearts will be embraced by the track “Symphony of the Nymph”. If your fascinations exist beyond food and sex, they also cover the topic of assassination. Food, love and politics—could we possibly ask anymore out of an album? Subjects aside, Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti scales back lo-fi recording techniques and allows their pop instrumentals to shine through. Now, perhaps more than ever, Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti begs the question, is there rhyme or reason?

Density. This album is arguably less dense than previous lo-fi styled tracks, like that of “Suicide Notation” on the album Odditties Sodomies. It is as though that cloud of noise that hung over previous project was blown away and beneath it a city that rarely sees sunny days. This clarity exposes the riffs for what they are—very catchy. Everything is smothered with pop melody. Lyrically, however, there is no amount of clarity, or focus, which could answer the question “why?” You just have to sit back and enjoy every oddity. Those who enjoyed growing up with Frank Zappa, or enjoy similar oddness with Animal Collective, will feel at home with Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti.

Mature Themes is two-faced in way that some tracks feel injected with unconventional personality and others feel like a ‘70s single, radio-ready and baited for pop culture. For instance, “Mature Theme”, which is a fantastic track, could very well be reincarnated from the ‘70s billboard 100. Your hypothetical 1970s self could listen to this track in your bedroom and your mother probably wouldn’t sneak in at night, snatch up the vinyl and store it way with your KISS records. But if you play “Symphony of the Nymph” you might find yourself in a Catholic reform school (even though, the track seems to draw a caricature of people obsessed with sex, disco and referring to women as bitches). Sidenote: listen very closely to “Symphony of the Nymph” and you’ll hear a Beatles sample.

Tracks that need multiple listens include “Kinski Assassin”, “Schnitzel Boogie”, and “Farewell American Primitive”. These tracks contain an added quality—they’re just fun. And “Baby”, too, though it is really unlike anything else on Mature Themes. It’s a soul track. And it’s damn good. You almost have to hear it to believe it. But if that’s the same vocalist we hear on the previous 12 tracks, then I commend that talent.

It’s my assumption that longtime fans of Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti will begin to pull away from their new, less lo-fi sound. Sometimes it’s the most subtle transitions that create a rift in fan base. But for me, this album was refreshing. It’s inconsistent, and fun and I no longer care to discover the reason behind the music.

4 out of 5 stars

4 out of 5

When I listen to Com Truise I think of angles. I think of sharp shapes, smattered across caves in varying neon color. Com Truise, to me, is the cubism of electronic music. There is a primal technique to the way his beats and sounds are warped, cut and abruptly pasted into shape. It’s a Pablo Picasso painting in ‘80s fashion. Com Truise is Jersey-based producer, Seth Haley. In 2011 he released his first full-length LP, Galactic Melt. It set a benchmark for synth production in 2011. This year Tom Cruise has taken the dust bunnies left over on the production room linoleum and stitched them together to form In Decay, and still, he rivals most producers.  

You might notice differences between In Decay and Galactic Melt.  There was an ominous overtone to Galactic Melt that is not present on In Decay. The variety, in general, has been scaled back. Beats have more room to breath. Dilatory grooves replace pop melodies and everything moves at an altered pace, more suitable for a drunken, spinning room than a lively dance floor. It’s the after, after party mix.

The Com Truise approach to beats and melody is jazz-like. Angular beats support the melody, often synth based, as it explores more avant-garde territory. This break up the hypnotic monotony on tracks like “Controlpop” and “Klymaxx” keeps the listener interested and lost. Each track starts as a gradation of simple a melody that crawl out of massive beatscape. Both elements make their way to the forefront, becoming more and more intense, and just before the confluence of sound is too much to bear, the two streams of noise divide and return to their original states.

The truth is–a few lame tracks on In Decay would make my job a lot easier. Not many tracks stand out. But, “Open” aside , if I could only listen one track on In Decay, it would likely be “Colorvision.” The beats that open this track are prone to cause a sore neck. I like that. “Klymaxx” would likely be a close second, though. It’s the track you drive to at night in a convertible. I don’t have a convertible, but I’d consider chopping the top off my truck just to give this track a proper listen.

If you’re a fan of Com Truise, new-wave beats and driving convertibles–give this a try. Don’t run off and buy a synth and a MacBook Pro and expect to pump out tracks like these. Remember, these are the tracks Com Truise set aside for a rainy day. This is the B team and it’s still better than most A teams. I pity the fool who listens to this album and doesn’t enjoy it.

3 out of 5 stars

3 out of 5

Micachu and The Shapes waited for the perfect time to release their sophomore album Never, a follow-up to the to the over-the-pop, experimental album, Jewelry. It’s a time when things are getting weird. The entire First World is about to dine-and-ditch the economy. The weather, in all its rage, is actually an interesting topic of discussion. And, the state of American politics is like something out of the Twilight Zone, in which, mistakes are sent to another dimension–our dimension, only to be repeated for eternity.

But, most importantly, experimental music has once again out lapped itself in the race between avant-garde and popular music. So, with a little help from bands like the tUnE-yArDs and the Dirty Projectors, popular music has caught up with the style that Micachu and the Shapes so perfectly embellished on their 2009 release Jewelry. Never is a strong sophomore album with more consistency and less variety of Jewelry. It’s more accessible to the mainstream, not because Micachu and The Shapes scaled back, but because the mainstream scaled forward.

There’s a specific energy on this album. It’s fed by Mica Levi’s vocals, but she won’t strike you as a vocalist. They just seem to exist like footnotes in a painting, or the tour guide on a bus, as if to inform the tourists, “You know what you’re hearing is beautiful, but here’s a little explanation.” Levi is, after all, a classically trained musician. Composition is what she knows. Vocals are the footnotes.

This album, while still very different, steps a little closer to something familiar. In many ways, like traditional guitar tunings and traditional instrumentation in general, this album sounds more traditional than Jewelry, which seemed to take advantage of any object that when struck, created a consistent pitch. Never just between slow-paced, almost unsettling melodies, to fast-paced tracks more akin to Jewelry’s tracks, “Golden Phone” and “Ship”. You also get playful samples, like the over-the-phone gossip between two women on the track “Glamour”.

All the tracks that standout have high energy, like “Easy”, “OK” and “Low Dogg”. They retain that resourceful, use-everything-that-makes-noise, mentality to get the melody from point A to point B. But, energy aside, “Nothing” was another favorite that mixes dizzying slow melodies with power chords; it’s a great attempt at something classically inspired, like something your grandma would like, if your grandma listed to experimental pop music.

I can’t say I was surprised by this album, like I was by their debut album. It might be that my palate for experimental music has been deadened by what seems to be a mass influx into the many nontraditional production techniques floating around. But for those looking for and introduction into strange, this album will get your there.

3 out of 5 stars

3 out of 5

Micachu & The Shapes – Never from Sean Lewis on Vimeo.

Delicate Steve’s sophomore album, Positive Force, continues in the path of guitar-centric instrumentals, pitch-shifting melodies and touching composition–this time with more layers than his debut album Wondervisions.

Delicate Steve, also known by his birth name Steve Marion, is an oddity. Last year he broke the scene, not with his music necessarily, but with a press release sent to publishers entitled “The critics unilaterally concur: Delicate Steve is a band who creates music.” How could anyone pass that up? Of the many publishers that received the bio, NPR bit the hook and found themselves with more questions than answers. But with a little digging they came to this conclusion: Yale Evelev of Luka Bop records recruited Chuck Klosterman, formerly of Spin Magazine, to write a fake bio for Delicate Steve without even talking to Delicate Steve, or listening to the album. Weird, right? Well it worked and it was largely attributable to Wondervisions introduction to the music scene. The rest was easy, they might say, because immaculate musicianship needs only an audience.

Now imagine this–Delicate Steve is as weird as the circumstances of his inclusion to popularity. You would think that all the sounds that could be done with a guitar has been done. But Delicate Steve seems to sing with this instrument like blues musicians used to do–and still do reference when referring to the pinnacle of being a true blues guitarist. But, it’s not the blues Delicate Steve is singing. It’s something else entirely. Like his debut album, Positive Forces is mostly wordless. The track “Two Lovers” does repeat the phrase “Two Lovers,” as though they were spoken through a last dying breath. So, you might say these tracks are love songs, positive and optimistic yet simultaneously melancholic. Delicate Steve sings happy blues and the six strings on a Fender Telecaster are his vocal chords. Any trace of true vocals leave clues for meaning, but really, you don’t need to go digging for that to feel what this music is all about. It’s what fun sounds like.

Every second of the three-minute “Afria Talks To You” is worth diving into Positive Force. This track is the perfect formula for melodic guitar, synth overtones and hooks–no words necessary. And that’s the essences of this album: the music is so beautiful that words would only get in the way, crowd the kitchen and bring down the bandstand under the weight of too much.

Positive Force is an affable treat for those interested in weird, melodic instrumental albums that only exist in the spaces in between genres, where so often, artists slide between the walls only to be rediscovered years later after we tear down the house that mainstream built. Don’t let that happen to Delicate Steve. Experience the album now and boast your discovery years later while everyone else is scraping to track down an original vintage vinyl in perfect condition.

4 out of 5 stars

4 out of 5

The Formula a fluid mixing of beats, dub and live instrumentals. They collaborated with some notable producers including Daisuke Tanabe, who did an amazing remix of the track “Black Tea Morning”.

Language barriers aside, we had a conversation about their approach, lifestyle and how live instrumentation plays a role in their music. You can cop the EP, The Formula, right now on iTunes or grab a physical copy here.

Read the interview by clicking the page numbers below.

Groundislava (Jasper Patterson) is back with another installment on the Friends of Friends label. After pumping out some remixes and a few EPs, TV Dream has arrived as a five-track EP perfect for poolside lounging and self exploration. No, not your[self] exploration, Patterson’s self exploration. And no, not sexually. Groundislava returns from previous works with a honed sound that pulls back on 8-bit influences and focuses on relaxing dissonance, leaving listeners with a consistently good release.

Groundislava’s 2011 self-titled album was a collaborative petri dish that included five featured artists and two remix tracks. The album was ostensively 8-bit, though at the same time, chock full of featured personas. Petterson offers up only one featured track on TV Dream  called “TV Dream” with the ever so danceable Clive Tanaka. While the collaboration is appreciated, the lower featured-tracks-to-entire-album-ratio leaves more room for this project to exist as a well-tended two-part artist cocktail, rather than a 30-dollar, Las Vegas Strip Long Island Iced-Tea. Groundislava and Clive Tanaka combine their powers like those kids from the TV show “Captain Planet”, to produce the a track that complements Global Warming, rather than defeats it, leaving us with four remaining tracks.

What this album is not–a footnote on the 8-bit Wikipedia page. It’s hard to put into words, but Groundislava has taken a genre and turned it into an instrument. When 8-bit influences do exist, they do so without “stealing the show.” Perhaps Patterson felt constrained by a genre that tends to pigeonhole artists into gimmicky tracks and entire albums for that matter. There’s a fine line between an entire 8-bit remix of The Legend of Zelda soundtrack and a well produced electric groove with an 8-bit flare. But, I’ll admit, I really dug that Zelda 8-bit album that was floating around a few months ago, and if Groundislava ever decided to tackle a similar full-scale remix project I would be the first to pick it up. But I digress. Groundislava is not [only] an 8-bit artist. He’s proven on TV Dreams that he is a skilled producer who has learned how to use 8-bit like an accent, not a language.

What remains on this album is some great downtempo, feel-good electronic music. It opens with the track “Weekend in the Tropics.” Imagine a reggae track with a bit of ’80s Hollywood soundtrack mixed in. You could drive all the way to Hawaii and your car would float on the water so long as you had this track on the repeat the entire way. “Tower Jump Suicide” incorporates some bitty synth and dramatic melodies reminiscent on earlier works. “Salt of Love” and “Reflecting” are also very heavy. They access that part of your brain where unsolved mysteries are stored. And, like these tracks, it’s all mystery. If past albums exist as clues to future works, they don’t point to this murder scene.

4 out of 5 stars

4 out of 5

Stepping over the faded coattails of the chillwave genre, Teen Daze releases his sophomore album, All Of Us, Together, another instrumental that is sure to be sampled on summer playlists and indie art films about picking dandelions. The album is not bad by any means. It exists as a more evolved final draft, fixing most shortcomings in his 2011 release, A Silent Planet. The pace on this album is just a little quicker, the hooks are a little hookier, and the vibe is just a little more—beat heavy.

Beats on All of Us, Together play a much larger role than previous work. They seem to break through the ethereal noise boredom that many chillwave artists slather on. The newfound appreciation for clarity is noticed from the very first track, “Treten”. It’s beyond danceable. In fact, this whole album is dance worthy. I did not dance to this album myself, but I did take it for a run. The beats on this album were calibrated, I think, to perfectly complement a mellow jogging pace.

Do not place this album too close with other chillwave artists’ albums. Yes, there is still that laptop vibe, but the dead-pulse feeling, like you’re sinking deeper into a heroin overdose, is replaced with lively exuberance. This album is really fish food for producers. Teen Daze is, one should note, the moniker for producer Jamison—whose work should not be pigeonholed. His other works, such as remix tracks for Seven Saturday and side project Two Bicycles have kept me from pinning down Jamison as a genre-specific artist.

The only setback from these of tracks, which are drawn out like taffy, is the repetitive nature of all-to-similar beats. Listening to this entire album in the stationary position instills some boredom. It’s too symmetrical, which was not a problem on the EP A Silent Planet. Those who enjoy this album should explore the Canadians other works. I was presently surprised by what lies beneath the tip of the iceberg that is All Of Us, Together. 

3 out of 5 stars

3 out of 5