“If there’s no such thing as time, you’re already there,” asserts the professorial voice that opens the record.
But given that it took me seven years to add this record to my collection, I have to take issue with his claims.
indie rock
Record #442: Kings Kaleidoscope – Becoming Who We Are (2014)
Once upon a time, the Church was the center of all high art. Most important musical and artistic works during the Renaissance were commissioned by the Church to announce the mysteries of the Divine.
But over the last few hundred years, things have changed. Christian art is now the realm of cheap, oversentimental schlock that sells on sentiment alone.
Kings Kaleidoscope has had enough of it.
Record #439: Grizzly Bear – Painted Ruins (2017)
Any time I find myself in a conversation about how modern music is garbage, I always bring up Grizzly Bear. Veckatimest is a flawless record that deserves to be listed next to albums like Pet Sounds and Odyssey and Oracle. It was a breakthrough that netted them an invitation to tour with Radiohead.
Grizzly Bear might have been doomed to live the rest of their career in the shadow of one perfect record, but the records that have followed have been similarly glorious.
Shields saw the group exploring sparser arrangements and a more measured composition. But, the record had a hard time maintaining the bliss of the first few tracks. The last half slowed the tempo down to dangerous levels, and the record ended up being a little forgettable.
Record #433: Bailey William and the Cherranes – Emerson (2015)
Let me tell you a little bit about my friend Bailey Williams.
The first time we met, she was just 16. She was opening for a punk show, armed only with an acoustic guitar. She scraped the strings and wailed with the abandon that for a moment I felt like I took a trip to 1960s Greenwich Village.
The first time we met, she was just 16. She was opening for a punk show, armed only with an acoustic guitar. She scraped the strings and wailed with the abandon that for a moment I felt like I took a trip to 1960s Greenwich Village.
She was a force of nature, and it was immediately apparent. It didn’t take long for her to enlist a band behind her. But there was some talk amongst the local scene that perhaps her storm would be tempered by the expansion in her soundscape—that it would tame her rawness to a more “palatable,” and lukewarm sound.
But then, they dropped Emerson.
Any worries that Bailey’s edges would be dulled by introducing more instruments are completely assuaged. This album is a storm of Moogs, electric guitars, and keyboards. And in the eye of the storm is Bailey and her acoustic guitar, playing with just as much grit and fire as she ever did.
Which isn’t to mean that this is an angry album. By no means. This is an album filled with great pop tunes and love songs. But there is a chaos to those songs that creates a consistently engaging and powerful listening experience.
But then, they dropped Emerson.
Any worries that Bailey’s edges would be dulled by introducing more instruments are completely assuaged. This album is a storm of Moogs, electric guitars, and keyboards. And in the eye of the storm is Bailey and her acoustic guitar, playing with just as much grit and fire as she ever did.
Which isn’t to mean that this is an angry album. By no means. This is an album filled with great pop tunes and love songs. But there is a chaos to those songs that creates a consistently engaging and powerful listening experience.
Record #417: Cool Hand Luke – Cora (2017)
About a week before I started 10th grade, I was at a Taking Back Sunday show (at a small coffeeshop in my hometown—this was before they got huge), and I saw a guy wearing a shirt that said, “Cool Hand Luke.” Always eager to find new music, I hopped on Interpunk.com (they’re still open, B.T. Dubs) and did a quick search.
And friends, I’m not sure if any other internet search has ever had such an effect on my life.
And friends, I’m not sure if any other internet search has ever had such an effect on my life.
Record #395: The Juliana Theory – Love (2002)
As I’ve said a few times before, music is my most powerful mnemonic. A few albums are completely stuck in a specific place in time, with their own scenes and smells irrevocably attached.
This is one of those albums.
This is one of those albums.
Record #324: Deerhunter – Fading Frontier (2015)
While Deerhunter have never been a group to repeat their past, their catalogue has maintained a certain progression. From the swirling shoegaze of Cryptograms to the ragged garage punk of Monomania, the group has shed reverb and haze each release, bringing them more and more into the light.
On the other hand, Fading Frontier might not sound much like previous releases, but it’s the first to break the progression towards less effect-heavy, straightforwardness. One might argue that Fading Frontier is Deerhunter’s dreamiest release, rife with synth textures and heavy bass grooves.
It’s tempting to call Fading Frontier their most accessible album. It’s sleeker than anything they’ve done before (and about ten minutes shorter), and while they still get weird, they’ve learned to harness the beast of their weirdness and bend it to their will. But to call it accessible runs the risk of calling it more middle of the road, which certainly isn’t true. Maybe the middle of their own road, but who really knows where that road leads.
The Locket Pundt-led “Ad Astra” is a strong foray into new wave balladry (that coda though!). “Breakers” is the most crystalline piece they’ve ever done, with a breezy chorus that’s the best candidate for being used in an Apple commercial they’ve ever done. “Snakeskin” alone retains Monomania’s scuzzy funk, crashing with their first noise collage since Microcastle (“Ad Astra” has one too), an album whose weirdness makes several small returns throughout the running time.
It’s tempting to call Fading Frontier their most accessible album. It’s sleeker than anything they’ve done before (and about ten minutes shorter), and while they still get weird, they’ve learned to harness the beast of their weirdness and bend it to their will. But to call it accessible runs the risk of calling it more middle of the road, which certainly isn’t true. Maybe the middle of their own road, but who really knows where that road leads.
Record #301: Band of Horses – Everything All the Time (2006)
Every once in a while, I’ll go back to all those records I almost bought but opted for something else instead. Band of Horses’ debut has had a firm place in the indie rock canon since its release, but for whatever reason, I kept passing over it.
Record #282: The Antlers – Familiars (2014)
At this point in time, the biggest question I ask about anything the Antlers could release is “will it get me to stop listen to Undersea?” And four tracks though it was, that extended play was one of the most beautiful records released in 2012, and it remains a fixture on my turntable. So when the mood strikes for the Antlers, will anything replace its sublime wonder, or should I just play the disc I have?
Record #238: The Arcade Fire – Reflecktor (2013)
You could pretty much guess what this album would sound like from the narrative of its making of: an Arcade Fire album produced by James Murphy with a lead single that David Bowie threatened to steal if they didn’t release it in a timely manner.