Album Reviews

Subtle, 'ExitingARM' (Lex)

Peter Gaston — Tue, 13 May 2008 19:28:24 -0400

What in the hell does ExitingARM mean? According to eccentric crooner/speed rapper Dose One, it's "the pit and alabaster ascension," a cryptic image of an immortal appendage attached to a dying body. It also could work as a metaphor for Subtle's densely colorful wall of sound. The six-member band reaches for melodic bliss with a dazzling, at times exhausting display -- synth rhythms, chiming guitar, rushing percussion crescendos -- that's like a crash course in indie-rock calculus. However, a few moments of uncomplicated clarity (a stirringly memorable hook or clarion-call chorus) would elevate ExitingARM from brilliant mess to true pop genius.

Local H, '12 Angry Months' (Shout! Factory)

Peter Gaston — Tue, 13 May 2008 19:25:19 -0400

A dozen years and one drummer removed from their copacetic Nirvanabe nugget "Bound for the Floor," Scott Lucas' Illinois-bred bubble-grunge duo are still loudest and prettiest when hitching their power chords to power pop. This time, though, there's a concept: One title per month, all revolving around an ugly breakup. The song cycle kicks off all spaghetti Zepstern and winds down to eight grandiose minutes under the Milky Way. You start out rooting for Lucas when his ex keeps his Pretenders album. But the more mean-spirited he gets, the more his melodies fail him.

Kidz in the Hall, 'The In Crowd' (Duck Down)

Peter Gaston — Tue, 13 May 2008 19:20:05 -0400

This Chicago duo, who met as undergrads at the University of Pennsylvania, hearken back to the preppy, '80s hip-hop of Leaders of the New School and Kwam é. While producer Double-O hooks up clubby hip-house ("Love Hangover," featuring Estelle) and slumpy bass jams ("Drivin' Down the Block"), rapper Naledge, along with guests Clipse, Bun B, and Little Brother's Phonte, brings slick rhymes to the true-school party. Full of playful swagger, the Kidz rarely let their emotional guard down. But near the end of "Inner Me," the normally debonair Naledge admits he actually might be like the rest of us: "Ironic / The product of two shrinks would ever need a shrink / I'm only fronting like my shit don't stink."

Duffy, 'Rockferry' (Mercury)

Peter Gaston — Tue, 13 May 2008 19:16:39 -0400

Like Amy Winehouse, fellow U.K. chart-topper Aimee Duffy is a white soul singer with '60s styling. Like the mother of all Brit soul birds Dusty Springfield, this young Welsh woman is fond of peroxide and mascara. Yet among the many appealing things about Duffy is that she's very much her own person -- a big-voiced smalltown girl who expresses herself with rare dignity. There's a joyous blues about her, a power in the way she articulates her acquiescence to dangerous love.

The title track of her debut summons the tear-streaked orchestral doom of Roy Orbison tempered with a survivor's pragmatism: "I wouldn't write to you / 'Cause I'm not that kind." As Duffy sings of a disillusioning suitor (the album's recurring theme), the melody embodies her struggle by steadily rising until it takes the singer's sultry alto far beyond its comfort zone, and she's wailing with harrowing rawness. Equally adept at '60s Stax-style ballads and sweeping symphonic pop, Duffy even energizes moments of stillness, and on "Mercy," she pays tribute to Northern Soul's hip-shaking rapture. Ex-Suede guitarist Bernard Butler -- a kindred master of melodrama -- produces and cowrites luxuriously silky tunes that showcase her grit, and the contrast between the pair's lucid talents and her deeply felt pain evokes a newly minted print of a classic film noir: The shadows come richly dark, and the brilliance pierces.

Death Cab For Cutie, 'Narrow Stairs' (Atlantic)

Peter Gaston — Tue, 13 May 2008 12:45:17 -0400

From afar, Death Cab for Cutie don't seem to have evolved very much over seven albums: The Seattle band still explore love's tender, bruiseable side with Ben Gibbard's sometimes delicate, sometimes forceful vocals set to sometimes delicate, sometimes forceful indie rock. But a micro look reveals distinctions between the demure group that made 1999's Something About Airplanes and the gents standing atop Narrow Stairs: After a slow and careful ascent, Death Cab now radiate hard-earned confidence with every note.

Though sonically similar to 2005's gold-certified Plans, Narrow Stairs is considerably darker: Plans' sweet elegy "I Will Follow You Into the Dark" echoes here in album closer "The Ice Is Getting Thinner," which sparingly documents a relationship's slow end, rather than a hand-holding journey to eternity. Elsewhere, Gibbard affixes bright melodies to the death of optimism ("No Sunlight"), the futility of commitment ("Cath," "You Can Do Better Than Me"), and pity and fear (uh, "Pity and Fear").

While that may sound dangerously morose, Death Cab have become skilled with the light/dark juxtaposition. Even the poppiest songs -- "I Will Possess Your Heart," the hip-swinging "Long Division" -- rush with emotional weight, and like most of the band's oeuvre, Stairs is useful as a cleansing tonic or pretty poison. Balancing the two is tricky, but Death Cab have spent ten years perfecting the mixture.

More on Death Cab:
-- Check out director Aaron Stewart's unique video clips promoting the new album. It's a SPIN.com exclusive, and you can see them here.
-- Read the Death Cab feature in the May issue of Spin
-- Watch the video for "I Will Possess Your Heart"
-- Watch behind-the-scenes footage from Death Cab's 2005 Spin cover shoot

No Age, 'Nouns' (Sub Pop)

Eric Nowels — Tue, 06 May 2008 18:49:16 -0400

Duos simplify the concept of "band" as far as it can go before becoming "solo artist." Synth pop made duos an emotionally unique form, testifying, "Us and our funny haircuts against the world, baby. All I need is a keyboard, an arpeggiator, and thou." Hip-hop's "He's the DJ, I'm the rapper" steez brought bold ambition -- here's a turntable, a mic; let's change the world. The liberating, two-man art punk of Los Angeles' No Age feels as if it could hurtle in any direction. Even their name distances them from any traditional sound or scene.

Though Randy Randall's guitar and Dean Spunt's drums start out at noise rock's shit-wall (the two-minute opener, "Miner," is Lightning Bolt–style panic rock), Nouns evolves gradually, with "Teen Creeps," "Sleeper Hold," and "Cappo" adding Superchunky pop riffs to the their relentless punk vigor. "Keechie" is cool, drifty ambient hum, and Randall unleashes a likable Everyman bleat on the snappy "Here Should Be My Home." Which means the band fits comfortably on a label that's home to the Shins, Wolf Eyes, and Mudhoney -- No Age could open for any of 'em and win over the crowd. Don't be too surprised if the next album features Tuvan throat singers or an acoustic cover of the Shangri-Las. There's nothing more punk than fearing no music.

Matmos, 'Supreme Balloon' (Matador)

Eric Nowels — Tue, 06 May 2008 11:10:35 -0400

Legions of Kraftwerk wannabes miss the band's secret weapon: From their man-machine fashion to their preference for dinky beats, the self-described showroom dummies could always tease out a good joke. And although they're purely instrumentalists, Matmos can too, with a charm that sets the laptop duo apart from lesser lights for whom chilly beats and icy synths are ends in themselves. "Rainbow Flag" is a Jetsons-esque symphony for telephone touch pad and synthesized trombone, "Exciter Lamp" sounds like a computerized toy xylophone, and the title track juxtaposes Space Invaders bleeps against progrock noodling—a gag Matmos stretches across 24 minutes and change. Conchords, time to step up your game.

The Last Shadow Puppets, 'The Age of the Understatement' (Domino)

Eric Nowels — Mon, 05 May 2008 18:57:22 -0400

Judging by the title of his new side project's debut, Arctic Monkeys frontman Alex Turner believes we're living in a pseudo-Victorian era of restraint. Has he ever read one of his band's wildly enthusiastic reviews? The Monkeys are emblematic of an epoch of exaggeration -- hype-machine poster kids whose music reflects a culture in which the LOL has supplanted the sly chuckle.

Or maybe Turner is just being ironic, since these dozen tunes are the most over the top in his slim songbook. His partner is Miles Kane of U.K. upstarts and Monkeys' tourmates the Rascals; the Last Shadow Puppets grew out of the pair's shared love of Scott Walker's late-'60s orchestral pop. They recorded Understatement with Simian Mobile Disco's James Ford producing and playing drums, then commissioned Final Fantasy's Owen Pallett to contribute lush spaghetti-western string arrangements.

The result replaces the Arctic Monkeys' circa-now cynicism with old-school romance; in "My Mistakes Were Made for You," Turner sounds terribly impressed when he describes a lady friend as "innocence and arrogance entwined in the filthiest of minds." The up-tempo numbers are great fun, but the Puppets excel on the ballads, which they croon in lovely tight harmony. The early Beatles would've admired "The Chamber." That's no overstatement.

Vetiver, 'Thing of the Past' (Gnomonsong)

Eric Nowels — Mon, 05 May 2008 10:21:09 -0400

Frontman Andy Cabic's affinity for wheezing British folk -- see the Incredible String Band, Bert Jansch, Vashti Bunyan -- is long established, but on Vetiver's third LP, Cabic tackles 1960s Americana, covering tracks by Guthrie disciples Michael Hurley, Derroll Adams, Townes Van Zandt, and others. Thing of the Past contains no original songs (although it's unlikely that anyone without a nasty crate-digging habit will recognize most of these tracks), but Vetiver are awfully well suited to the material, and Cabic's vocals -- sweet, smooth, and golden -- shine.

Does It Offend You, Yeah?, 'You Have No Idea What You Are Getting Yourself Into' (Almost Gold)

Eric Nowels — Tue, 15 Apr 2008 16:30:07 -0400

The only offensive thing about this English electro-rock outfit's debut is how blatantly they rip off Justice ripping off Daft Punk. (Contrary to the CD's title, if you've read a music blog sometime during the past two years, you'll know exactly what you're getting yourself into.) That said, DIOYY? aren't without their third-generation charms: Most of these tunes contain at least one deliciously trashy robot-metal riff, and the best cut, "Dawn of the Dead," boasts a heartsick chorus seemingly lifted from an obscure Killers B-side.

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