FRESH BAKED
in NYC
Kordan
Fantasy Nation
2009| TwentySeven Records
B+

What do we do with dance pop? Are we actually expected to try to dance at their shows – so much of today’s dance music is overtaken by a sense of ambience, or a concentration on intellectualizing the lyrical content; trying to get down to M83’s “Graveyard Girl,” while considering Anthony Gonzalez’s use of 80s movie tropes, or grinding to LCD Soundsystem’s “All My Friends,” while dwelling on the concept of friendship seems relatively impossible.

I have spent a lot of my time on JM.com analyzing this decade in music from the point of view that indie kids spent the 2000s learning how to have fun again in the wake of hardcore and grunge. But, in retrospect, half of the reason I enjoy dance music is the contrast between the party and the higher-end thought. When a song loses content and is just about the bump ‘n grind, it loses the drama. The best dance pop bands from the 2000s expect you to dance despite the intellectualization, a song pushing you to have a good time directly in the face of the desperation in everyday life; not because of it. That’s why MGMT gets criticism from the intellectual elite while Passion Pit and M83 gain clout. So, in a way, the entire concept of modern dance pop is facetious. You’re not necessarily supposed to dance, it can simply be about recognizing that this music is of the sort that people usually dance to.

Which brings us to Kordan, and their debut EP, Fantasy Nation. Is this dance music? Sure: as opener “Fantasy Nation” kicks in, that’s immediately clear. The guitar lick is blisteringly hot, working itself over compressed bass tones, a clap track, and plenty of shakers. Simply, it’s urban-techno. But, as with all great dance pop, there’s a lot more. For Kordan, it’s the ability to be instantly familiar – pop music you’ve heard a thousand times before, but never quite want to turn off. As the chorus of Fantasy Nation tears itself open with, “And we are/ A nation made of fantasy,” there’s pure joy in the cityscape, the lights of Tokyo (much of the EP is centered around Tokyo), pleasure in technology, in the party, and in movement. “Fantasy Nation” on it’s own is a near-perfect dance track.
More on Kordan | Fantasy Nation

FRESH BAKED
in NYC
A Place to Bury Strangers
Exploding Head
Mute | 2009
B+

When it comes to Brooklyn bands, there are few as indisputably cool as A Place to Bury Strangers. Based out of Williamsburg, the band plays a detached mix of shoegaze and doom rock that evokes comparisons to bands like Joy Division, The Swans, and My Bloody Valentine — the trifecta of aloof, pretentious coolness. They’ve been called the loudest band to come out of New York and are, by anyone’s standards, noisy as fuck. Led by tech-head Oliver Ackermann, the band’s sound has caught the attention of bands like The Brian Jonestown Massacre, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, and The Jesus and Mary Chain, all of which have invited the band on tour. When not playing music, Ackermann and the band handcraft some of the nastiest guitar effect pedals on the market and sell them to other bands like Lightning Bolt, Wilco, and Nine Inch Nails. And in their spare time, A Place to Bury Strangers runs Death By Audio, which has been South Williamsburg’s dingiest practice space, venue, art gallery, and more recently uhh…maze.

With all this surrounding A Place to Bury Strangers, the band’s music has more-often-than-not received a critical pass. While the band’s lauded self-titled debut was a feat in druggy production, if you striped away all the feedback and atmospherics, there really wasn’t that much left. Delivered with the standoffish cool that typified gothy 80s pop, Ackermann’s lyrics were at best uninspired. And at times, the band ended up sounding like a dressed up version of the bands that came before them. Sure, it wasn’t a terrible debut; A Place to Bury Strangers can create nihilistic soundscapes like no other band. But in the process the band sacrificed songwriting at the altar of pretentious cool.

So now we have the band’s sophomore release, Exploding Head. Like the band’s self-titled full-length before it, Exploding Head is a record that unapologetically wears its influences on its sleeve. The distorted guitar melody on Exploding Head’s opening track “It’s Nothing” echoes the opening of My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless and Ackerman’s voice drifts from Jim Reid’s monotonous sing-speaking to Kevin Shield’s dry, spaced-out delivery. There are also intentional references to the bands that came before A Place to Bury Strangers: 43 seconds into “Keep Slipping Away,” drummer Jay Space drops the “dun, dun-dun, chik” drumbeat that was first featured in the intro to The Ronnettes’ “Be My Baby” and later became a somewhat of a shoegaze meme when it was cribbed by bands like The Boo Radleys, Clinic, Deerhunter, and most famously by The Jesus and Mary Chain (twice on the same record).
More on A Place to Bury Strangers | Exploding Head

FRESH BAKED
in NYC
Tyondai Braxton
Central Market
2009 | Warp
B+

The lower the framerate, the faster life moves. When you think back to Charlie Chaplin’s classic Depression-era commentary Modern Times, the limitations inherent in early celluloid forced people to move quicker. Modern Times’ assembly line workers move impossibly quickly to keep up with the rate of production. This is accomplished almost incidentally: the tiny, missing photographic fragments create this jerking, frantic motion that better gets at the sweaty, infinitely demanding pace of the 30s American worker than modern film ever could.

In Central Market, Tyondai Braxton (most known for his work as the dude with the alien vocals in Battles) has created an orchestral piece that manages to simultaneously soundtrack and stand as one of those films. In the first seconds of opener “Opening Bell,” the cinema begins: a lighthearted, cartoonish piano chirps away a few bars. For a few bars, this piano sits alone, a faint computer drone buzzing in the background. A friendly gang of whistling joins in, and the looped computer drone is joined by computerized whistles. They contradict each other: the computer harsh and industrial, the whistles happy, and so classically organic, the sounds of the workers in the factory. As the song proceeds, the two battle each other for the spotlight: long sections dedicated to fluttering strings, flutes, and whistles, only to be met by the robotic pounding of computers.

It’s this tension between the friendly, organic nature of Braxton’s orchestra against the spastic grinding of computers, that make Central Market an essential listen of 2009. If you’re familiar with Battles’ 2007 must-listen Mirrored, then you may have some idea of what to expect from Market. Braxton has a very specific style of composition that relies heavily on looping different sounds or melodies for many minutes at a time. The songs become so concentrated on these loops that when they abruptly end, or are replaced with a new section, the listener gets shocked or feels uneasy, torn away and told to focus on something else.
More on Tyondai Braxton | Central Market

FRESH BAKED
in NYC
The Sweet Ones
We Work Harder
2009 | Crafty Records
B+

Whipping through 7 songs in less than 15 minutes, The Sweet Ones present their music, via their new EP, We Work Harder, as a hard rock brew steeped mostly in punk and 60s garage rock, but with hints of art-rock and psychedelia. As the band shouts on the opening track, “Joining The Club,” “Now the hippies are punks, and the punks are hippies/ Doesn’t matter no more, doesn’t matter no more.”

Dropping explicit references to influences like The Modern Lovers (“Hippy Johnny”) and Minutemen (“Got Watt?”), The Sweet Ones come off like a band that knows how to jam econo; their wealth of good spirit, and their fun-loving attitude is enough to sustain the disc’s short runtime. They also sound exceptionally tight for a garage band, which makes the prospect of future recordings quite appetizing. They are a band worth keeping tabs on. The lyrics aren’t particularly deep, but they’re sharp enough to be memorable, as well as being set to catchy melodies that easily inspire sing-alongs.

Stream “Building a Spaceship” off The Sweet Ones’ 2008 EP Stay Low below.

by Justin Remer

FRESH BAKED
Magnolia Electric Co.
Josephine
Secretly Canadian | 2009
B+

Ever since he released his first record of home-brewed folk back in ’97, Jason Molina has specialized in writing difficult records. Never one to shy away from heartbreak and tragedy, Molina gained a sizeable following for his brutal, Midwestern honesty, first recording as Songs: Ohia, and, more recently, as The Magnolia Electric Co. His down-home vulnerability has been compared to the darkest works of Neil Young and Bonnie “Prince” Billy. So when I say that Josephine is Molina’s most difficult release in recent memory, I’m not fucking around.

Perhaps it was inevitable. Josephine was born – at least in part – out of the tragic loss of Molina’s long-time bassist and friend, Evan Farrell. Prior to his passing in early 2008, Farrell had been working with Molina on the songs that would eventually end up on Josephine. Other songwriters might have walked away from the material entirely, but Molina soldiered on, gathering up the rest of The Co. and enlisting the help of Steve Albini to finish the album.

Whether intended or not, Josephine stands as a good tribute to Farrell. The record is Molina’s most cohesive work since Songs: Ohia’s 1999 masterpiece, Axxess and Ace. It’s a slow-burning record that takes a few listens to wrap your head around, but it’s worth the effort. Set to a background of sparse alt-country, the record juggles conflicting themes of hope and loss, without dwelling on either for too long.
More on Magnolia Electric Co. | Josephine

FRESH BAKED
Deerhunter
Rainwater Cassette Exchange
2009 | Kranky
B+

Deerhunter’s high-quality streak continues with Rainwater Cassette Exchange, a bright little EP that serves as a fine afterthought to the band’s excellent 2008 LP, Microcastle. It marks a progression for the band, but Rainwater is also firmly in tow  with their other recent efforts, more of a strut into new territory than a dash. But as with Microcastle, the straightening of their ghostly madcap sound, and the trappings of it into pop, remains very rewarding.

For all the quality, there’s not much quantity; even for an EP, Rainwater is brief. None of the tracks overstay their welcome and, seeing as most are hinged on just a few chords, keeping near the two-minute mark is a good idea. Such simplicity may imply stagnation, but this isn’t the case. The band continues to shine within simple confines, with great hooks and melodies, and burn brightly with what has always been their secret weapon – an excellent sense of mood.
More on Deerhunter | Rainwater Cassette Exchange

FRESH BAKED
Sunset Rubdown
Dragonslayer
2009 | Jagjaguwar
B+

It’s a wonder Spencer Krug hasn’t run out of ideas yet. Over the past five years, the Montreal-based indie rock heavyweight has worked with four bands, written nine or so albums, and criss-crossed the country on innumerable tours. In the process, he’s made Wolf Parade, Frog Eyes, Swan Lake, and Sunset Rubdown household names – to kids who wear cardigans, at least. If anyone ever set up an AA-style support group for prolific songwriters who can’t stop writing and performing, you can be sure Krug would be seated in a semi-circle next to Robert P., Will O., and Ryan A.

But among all of the groups born of Krug’s creativity, Sunset Rubdown has always stood apart as his pet. Originally formed as an outlet for the complex ideas that didn’t fit within the simplified Wolf Parade formula, Sunset Rubdown has evolved into one of indie rock’s most uncompromising bands, writing songs that defy the genre’s conventions. The band’s songs explore snakes growing legs, wicked-winged things, and twentysomethings riding leopards, all the while weaving melodies around song structures that would give Geddy Lee a headache. Perhaps it’s fitting then that sometime between Snake’s Got a Leg and Random Spirit Lover, Sunset Rubdown became the most visible force in the fledgling indie prog genre.
More on Sunset Rubdown | Dragonslayer

FRESH BAKED
Dinosaur Jr.
Farm
2009 | Jagjaguwar
B+

Dinosaur Jr.’s new LP, Farm, is hardly a new beginning for the alt-rock pioneers, but that is no reason to be deterred, as watching them cavalierly stroll the indie tightrope is as entertaining as ever. The only difference between Farm and their classic work, like 1987s seminal You’re Living All Over Me, is that some of the messier qualities (specifically the feedback) have been washed away – leading the effort to resemble grunge more than any Dinosaur Jr. album to date. This is amplified by J. Mascis’s age-eroded voice, which is beginning to have the timber of Eddie Vedder. But, man, does Mascis’s guitar still have that same glorious tone.

As languid as his groaning can be, there’s so much joy and excitement in Mascis’s lead guitar (searing, even). It’s clear he relishes each time he gets to show off just how much better he is at guitar than you. Case and point: “I Don’t Want to Go There,” Dinosaur Jr.’s stab at a sprawling, Neil Young-esque guitar epic, which is much in the vein of Young’s “Cowgirl in the Sand.” The song isn’t quite as inspired as that classic rock staple, but the guitar work is arguably better, with more than half of its nine minutes dedicated to Mascis’s guitar wonderfully twisting and soaring above the hook’s grimy squalls.
More on Dinosaur Jr. | Farm