To further showcase just how much I’ve been slacking on this blog, this record was sent to me at the same time as Jet Black’s wonderful L’Ere du Vide, which I got before Christmas.
Admittedly, it was a little hard for me to give this record the time it deserves, buried as it was under a deluge of Christmas records that I was spending more time with. But as I’ve listened to this bit of rambunctious alt-rock, I’ve fallen in love with it.
As broad as I like to think my musical tastes are, there are times that I might actually be pretty predictable.
Take for example my love of dark, guitar heavy, shoegaze inspired indie rock. So infamous am I for my love of this aesthetic that around Christmas, a friend messaged me this album on Spotify saying I would probably like it.
Later that same day, another friend sent me a vinyl copy as a present.
They were both very correct.
Post rock is typically a patient genre. Bands build elaborate landscapes of cinematic splendor and emotional catharsis that evoke the heights and depths of the human experience. But this usually takes a while: it’s not unusual for a post rock tune to sail right past the seven-minute mark—or even the ten minute mark.
But on -aire, The End of the Ocean achieves the same evocative heights without wasting any time.
One of the most interesting things about post rock is that as clear as the conventions of the genre are, it’s a rare thing for a band to put out a record that hits all the right notes without seeming derivative.
But on their debut full-length, Texas natives Driving Slow Motion offer up a brand of heavy post rock that feels fresh without adding too much to the tried-and-true post rock formula.
After five albums, Scottish dream pop darlings Cocteau Twins found something they never expected their blissful, ambiguous, ethereal pop songs to deliver…
Commercial success.
The mid 2000s saw no shortage of bands offering an electrifying mixture dance punk and post punk (see also: The Killers, Franz Ferdinand, etc).
However, few groups managed to do so with the sheer excitement and urgency as Bloc Party did on their 2005 debut.
After falling in love with Purple a few years ago and Gold & Grey more recently, I’ve decided that it’s high time I dig deeper into Baroness’ celebrated back catalog.
And with just a precursory listen to their first three records, they’ve established themselves as a band that can do no wrong. This is clearly displayed on their debut full-length, Red Album, a nonstop, heavy metal tour-de-force.
After the heavy melodicism of 2015’s Purple, falling in love with Gold & Grey was a pretty easy task.
But where Purple was a relatively brief affair, this record stretches out, making itself comfortable in its sonic space with a gravity that is solemn without being inaccessible.
As much as I try to stay atop notable new releases, it’s inevitable that some will escape my attention for a while. In this case, “a while” is twelve years, as the first listen I gave to Blonde Redhead’s magnificent 23 was just last week.
And what a waste it’s been, because this would have been one of my favorite records from my college years if I discovered it earlier. It’s the perfect mixture of thick My Bloody Valentine-y textures, Radioheady beat work, and grade-A pop hooks.
Side projects are a weird thing.
On the one hand, they will always inevitably be draw comparisons to the members’ main projects. On the other, if it’s too different, their original fans won’t be interested at all.
Less Art, made of members of Thrice, Kowloon Walled City, and Curlupanddie, delivers a record that doesn’t just sidestep the problems that plague side projects and supergroups, but also more than stands on its own.