It’s good to see that politically-conscious reggae/rock still exists. While the influx of younger ‘white boy reggae’ bands only concern themselves with partying and drinking and other such lighthearted fare, State Radio chooses to actually stand for something. The band released its third full-length album, Let It Go, back in September. It flew under my radar until a few weeks ago, inexplicably.

The disc begins with Mansin Humanity, an energetic opener that sets the tone for the rest of the album. Lead guitarist/vocalist Chad Urmston sings with passion and an earnestness that is refreshing to hear. Of course, he came from the rather incredible indie band Dispatch, who unfortunately broke up a few years ago (save for a couple benefit reunion shows at Madison Square Garden). He alternates between soothing melodic singing and a more exclamatory range, which accentuate the intensity of the songs.

Calling All Crows finds the band returning to the more-than-solid reggae/rock sound that they exhibited on their 2005 album Us Against the Crown, which remains their most solid disc, in my opinion. Set to a relaxing guitar strum and some thumping percussion, Urmston sings “…if you feel like you are witnessing a movement, then get up, girl, and let them know you’re free.”

Urmston (middle) and his fellow freedom fighters Fay and Najarian

Urmston frequently injects political commentary to State Radio songs, as most concern themselves with rebels, racial injustice, and other such topics. Year of the Crow, which came out in 2007, featured songs discussing Guantanamo, trouble in Sudan, and other such related topics. Let It Go continues that trend, but the band returned to its melodic side with this record. The songs have an incessantly catchy tendency, while at the same time allowing Urmston the opportunity to express himself adequately.

if this isn't Urmston's actual guitar, it's damn close

He has been known to play some shows with a handmade guitar crafted out of an old Castrol motor oil can, as a sort of tribute/protest of the American oil industry. I saw him use it at a show a few years ago, and it was really impressive.

Arsenic & Clover has an urgent feeling to it, opening with Urmston singing “thou shalt not want any or all that you feed so kindly”, before the song takes off. It sounds religious in tone, concerning ‘heathens’ and a ‘holy dove’ and such. It’s one of the album’s ‘highlights’, although the whole disc is really a masterful piece of work.

The rest of the band, Chuck Fay and Mike Najarian, complement Urmston’s dissonant, distorted guitar perfectly, as the bass and drums smash along with the guitar and vocals with precision and finesse.

Bohemian Grove slows things down a bit after the fury of Arsenic & Clover, and it includes some nice hushed vocal melodies by Urmston. The song concerns war, with Urmston delivering lines such as “It’s a peculiar situation when the leaders of the wealthy nations don’t care for the damage they’ve done”, which lead into the chorus of “I don’t need your world control, and the opinion of the inner elite oh don’t you know that we are aching for a part in the chance worth taking”. It’s one of the better State Radio songs I’ve heard, with some great lyrics from Urmston.

With Knights of Bostonia, the band pays homage to its hometown while retaining the call to action theme of most of its songs. It sounds primed for a sing along in concert, which I’m sure is the case when they play.

The rest of the album is equally as solid. With Let It Go, State Radio has really crafted a very solid collection of songs concerning real issues. Just as he was while a member of Dispatch, Urmston injects realness and a sense of urgency into State Radio, infusing each song with a passionate cry for acceptance, peace, and justice in the world, which obviously could use such encouragement. I am especially fond of the band’s ability to do that, as too much of today’s music is mindless nonsense meant for club hits and iTunes downloads. State Radio frequently hosts social activism events prior to their concerts, encouraging fans to take a part and make a difference, as that is what they are about.

Let It Go is a fantastic record of songs that are meant to stand for something and make a difference, while also managing to be excellent songs penned by very talented individuals.

More people could benefit by listening to State Radio, so what are you waiting for?

Releasing 2008’s flat out spectacular Devotion, endorsement (including an opening touring slot) from one of last year’s heavy hitters Grizzly Bear, and getting signed to Sub Pop made quite the year and a half for Beach House. And with as good as Devotion was, nobody would have minded vocalist Victoria Legrand and instrumentalist Alex Scally being unable to quite match it, much less top it. The duo, however, have indeed managed to live up to the somewhat large hype by not only meeting expectations, but toppling them with their third, unexpectedly mature album, Teen Dream. Recorded in a converted church, you can almost hear the setting; the lush keyboards, the echoing vocals, the music seems to exude the space in which they played. In the same way that Animal Collective did around this time last year, Beach House has established the first high mark of the year to beat.

Zebraorgy? Shit, I dunno

One amazing thing about Teen Dream is the fact that its melodies are even more consistently spot on than Devotion’s. Every song is swimming in them, and they’re all so seducing that even when the opening track Zebra gives off a slight resemblance to Weezer’s No Other One, you can’t help liking it all the more. This, along with Silver Soul (and its gorgeous chorus of “It’s happening again..”), gives Teen Dream an absolutely stunning beginning.

Walk in the Park shows off just how much Scally has grown as an instrumentalist. His layering is masterful; the warm guitar contrasts with the almost icy sounding organ, but they never drown out the drum machine, even when the keyboards erupt in the chorus. Legrand’s hauntingly beautiful vocals waver over everything, hypnotizing to such a degree that she could rival Hope Sandoval. Even when the melodies are at their simplest, such as on Used to Be, the piano’s following of Legrand’s voice is just layered over time and again until the song resembles a psychedelic haze almost so thick as to mask the original tune. At the end, the layers sound about to fall about, playing barely in time together, as Legrand repeats “Any day now” (she uses repetition with startling effectiveness all throughout Teen Dream) and it abruptly ends.

As good as the album’s beginning is, the end proves able to best it. The swooningly smooth and gentle Better Times gives off that classic dream pop vibe, where something is repetitive but it’s just too pretty for you to care, before leading into 10 Mile Stereo, which like Used to Be, also has a deceptively basic beginning but is scarcely recognizable once it finishes. The more spare but equally arresting Real Love picks up here, driven by a piano and Legrand’s powerful emoting and Take Care closes us out with a strangely poppy, psychedelic drone, complete with harmonizations, a piano echoing as it climbs and falls, and sweeping cymbals.

This reminds me of George Michael Bluth.. "I feel like we should kiss again... to freak them out"

Teen Dream is, well, amazing. Not only is it unrelentingly gorgeous from beginning to end, but it’s exciting to see how quickly this duo is progressing. It leaves very little room for improvement on their sound, but I, for one, am too blown away to even think about what they put out next.

Spoon seems to more and more be approaching a Yo La Tengo-like status as a reliably good indie band churning out high quality releases every two or three years. Granted, the latter has a good ten years on the former, but both have a consistency remarkable not only in quality but in the fact that the quality requires minimal sound tweaking to attain. Last year head Spoon Britt Daniel produced the White Rabbits’ excellent sophomore record, It’s Frightening, which in spite of their own style, had a distinct Spoon flavor to it. This, paired with the release of the Got Nuffin EP, fed a great deal of the anticipation for the new album(as if their fans actually needed the goading). Now that Transference, their seventh album, is finally out, it lives up to all expectations with unsurprising ease. While not as meticulously produced as its two preceding releases, Transference still has all the charm and cleverness one would expect from the band.

I am so alienated and unique...

The first thing you might notice about Transference is its somewhat raw sound. In comparison to its predecessor, Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga (as has been mentioned before), this album feels a lot more whimsical than its more tight and polished predecessor. While songs like Is Love Forever? have endlessly luring hooks (namely in the opposing guitars and bass), an even more fascinating aspect is the great meshing of pop and lo-fi. Love is followed by the compelling pair of The Mystery Zone and Who Makes Your Money, which each manage to sound musically minimal, yet rich. The bluesy piano led stomp of Written in Reverse returns Transference to the more raw, almost demo-sounding character that Love presented, though with much rougher edges, and not to mention a rather clever lyrical structure. Midway track I Saw the Light is another more garage-sounding tune, but something that is a testament to Spoon’s songwriting is how the album never sounds like two separate halves forced together; despite the obvious difference in overall sound among the tracks (more subdued vs. more rough), there is a very strong sense of cohesion.

After the addictive garage sound of Trouble Comes Running is an almost startlingly lullaby-esque song in Goodnight Laura. Extremely gentle and unironic both musically and lyrically, it’s a very simple and sweet ballad which, again, to compliment Transference’s cohesion, nestles in quite nicely between Trouble and Out Go the Lights‘ throbbing tale of heartbreak. Lead single off last year’s EP of the same name, Got Nuffin(continuing the trend of phonetic singles like Don’t You Evah) picks up really well here with its lively sound and hopeful lyrics, and leads perfectly into the closing Nobody Gets Me but You.

Hehehehe this time ask for Harry Sach ppffffffttttt

It’s not impressive that Spoon has released another fantastic album so much as that they have managed to keep their sound relatively uniform while so easily avoiding redundancy. Though released nearly a full seven months beforehand, Got Nuffin served as a great single partly for how highly representative of Transference it is; instantly catchy melody, clever instrumentation, and an undeceptively positive, upbeat sound.

One of the many bands of the indie movement to be plagued with ridiculous amounts of hype (before the release of their debut, no less), Vampire Weekend was able to meet the impossibly high expectations better than many of their contemporaries with their 2008 self titled record. While it was fairly derivative in spots, it was very well written, and had a unique worldbeat fusion that gave its indie pop sound a very interesting flavor. Two years later, they have released their long-awaited sophomore effort, and not only does it live up to its predecessor, the band has taken a bold step forward and run with the worldbeat aspect that made their debut so special, while maintaining not only their basic sound, but keeping their pop sensibility as well.

"Boy, I hope that this picture will be used for an album cover in another twenty seven years"

Lead single Cousins serves as a great sample of Contra; it’s got a standard rock format but loaded with so many different ideas it can’t help but charm. The frenzied guitars are outstanding, but what really steals the proverbial show is the rhythm section. The drums and bass simply DO NOT QUIT on this song. Its instrumentation could well be the least broad out of any track on the album, but it still sounds every bit as exotic, and the energy is downright captivating.

On a number of tracks, they sound a lot like Paul Simon and Peter Gabriel jamming with an indie band, particularly on the trio of White Sky, Holiday, and California English (HAH! I used an oxford comma, Vampire Weekend! SUCK ON THAT). Ezra Koenig’s higher sounding vocals are more controlled than flailing, the unwaveringly upbeat tempos rest upon laid back sounding yet somewhat complicated beats, there’s a slightly tropical sound which comes across as strangely authentic (with English’s random autotune, no less), and overall the afro-meets-synth sound is very well implemented. Clever percussion and keyboards are implemented throughout as well, which is immediately noticeable on opener Horchata as well as the gentle, piano driven Taxi Cab.

Even at Contra’s most aggressive, the songs sound smooth and controlled. Run’s alternating gallop and offbeat, stuttering drums seem to take the lead over the synths and guitars, and the complex relationships therein are fascinating. There’s also the fast, surprisingly danceable Giving Up the Gun (which will no doubt spawn some awesome dance remixes), which retains all the creativity, and even the very core sound, of Contra’s other nine tracks, but with a pleasantly unexpected kick that shows off a bit more of the diversity they’ve grown into.

Pitchfork: "Vampire Weekend may be more punk rock than you think." Oh yes, I sees it!

Vampire Weekend’s debut had some great ideas, but they weren’t given the imagination that they’ve received here. Contra is a very lively affair, as well as brisk; the ten songs breeze by in just over half an hour. It’s not only a flat-out triumph musically, but lyrically compelling as well, a big theme challenging that perhaps problems that seem more trivial when compared to the world’s more pressing issues are still just those – problems. All in all, a fantastic record from a band proving to be growing into themselves far faster and more gracefully than expected.

The abbreviated story of Real Estate’s formation almost plays like a variation on the film Garden State: four friends living in New Jersey play together in different bands all throughout high school, one of which being a Weezer cover band. Then the vocalist/guitarist (Martin Courtney) moves away to the west coast to go to college, and comes back some time later, after which the foursome reforms, and Real Estate is born. Much like fellow surf rock/indie pop blend enthusiasts Girls (both bands also carry the badge of indie coolness that is a Pitchfork “best new music” label, very exciting), Real Estate’s debut is startlingly on the money – impressive melodies, a slightly psychedelic atmosphere, and just enough twang to the guitars to make them stand out; sounding almost as the Beach Boys might had been a bleak indie band in the late 00’s. Though however weighty the spacey sadness to Real Estate’s self titled effort may feel at times, the melodies throughout are utterly gorgeous, which is particularly noteworthy given how simple the songs are.

A house that's just a diamond of glass?? That... that's just crazy enough to work!

Real Estate is one of those bands that benefit from a more lo-fi sound, as they can embrace the haze engulfing their music as opposed to simply drowning in it. Beach Comber and Pool Swimmer show their penchant for establishing minimalist atmosphere right away, each with a very simple harmony but with such charisma that you’re lured in right away; the harmonizing heard throughout the latter in particular is somewhat mesmerizing. Up next is the “Pavement, is that you?” of Suburban Dogs; the lo-fi pioneers’ influence is heard especially here, and is unmistakable in Courtney’s chants of “Back home” near the end, after drearily singing about how “Suburban dogs are in love with their chains” and pleading “Carry me back to sweet Jersey,” as if to prove the song’s point.

The album’s second half runs as smooth and briskly as the first, even with a six minute song (the longest here by a reasonable stretch) in the middle. Suburban Beverage, in spite of its length, breezes by quite quickly, largely due to its many quick, yet laid back transitions. Gradually though, the song builds up steam toward the fade out end (even though it never becomes anything truly aggressive). Let’s Rock the Beach, the second instrumental (the first being the very brief but lovely Atlantic City), showcases the great chemistry between the members, particularly bassist Alex Bleeker and guitarists Courtney and Mathew Mondanile. The instrumental is nearly five minutes, but again, it breezes by, as it is very easy to get lost in their playing on this incredibly soothing track. Snow Days closes things out with a short and gentle vocal harmony followed by another quick melodic jam session, with unexpectedly vigorous drumming from Etienne Duguay.

Is anybody else reminded of the picture from Weezer's Blue Album?

The Jersey boys go through ten songs in about forty minutes, but given how deceptively tight the group’s sound is, it seems much, much quicker; there certainly is something to be said for being able to cram so much atmosphere into such a small package. Real Estate’s self titled debut is a great example of why indie subgenres are on the rise at the moment; they’ve toyed with the basic elements of the sound until they’ve produced something that’s not quite new, but still close enough to be completely unique.

“If we’d tried to make another more traditional guitar record, I don’t think we’d have got through it,” said Tom Smith of the Editors’ latest album’s musical direction. “For our own sanity, we had to do something we hadn’t done before.” To be sure, on In This Light and On This Evening, there’s a big shift from their earlier work, which after the rehash of An End Has a Start, is most welcome. However, it just seems that when the band analyzed their direction, rather than trying something of their own, they looked once again to Joy Division for inspiration. Since that band tweaked their gloomy sound with electronic dance elements, the Editors apparently reasoned, there’s no reason why it wouldn’t work for them.

There are thirty six differences between these images, can you spot them all?

While this strategy does work in some places (and perhaps was their best option; no one really wanted The Back Room Pt. III),  A part of what made their debut so good was that while post-punk bands were an obvious influence, there was still plenty else going on musically; here, it’s pure latter day Joy Division, updated for the modern era. It gives the record a powerful atmosphere, yes; but it gets to be kind of faceless, with half of the memorable moments being so for the wrong reasons.

The doom and gloom is overpowering right from the beginning on the opening title track, and after that comes the awkwardly Terminator theme reminiscent Bricks and Mortar, which is really only noteworthy because of this resemblance; namely because past Smith’s tortured wail (which admittedly is much more convincing here than on other places on In This Light) that’s all it does.

That’s what they do! THAT’S ALL THEY DO! YOU CAN’T STOP THEM!

….sorry. Opportunities to quote Kyle Reese are few and far between.

Lead single Papillon has, to be fair, a great beat; heavily indebted to New Order, but great all the same. It’s just that Smith’s dramatics are firing on all cylinders here, with a snarl (“It kicks like a sleep twitch!”) that tries too hard for a sweeping effect and it’s repeated with nearly the same passion every time. Not to mention the way he rolls his r’s in the chorus (“If there really was a god here, he’d have RRRRaised a hand by now”), for even more effect; it really gets to be too much.

While the Editors certainly don’t get points for originality, and the dark theatrics severely weigh the album down, there are some wonderful moments as well. Both The Big Exit and Eat Meat = Blood Drool are able to harness the dark dramaticism without feeling pointlessly over the top. Upon first listen, each sounds like a jumbled mess of random hooks thrown together with a sinister vibe, but repeated listens reveal them to be incredibly intricate, well written songs, with each component connecting beautifully. Sadly these tracks are the only ones that reward repeated listening, though; the rest simply sound more and more like each other.

INTENSE.

All in all, In This Light and On This Evening is a mostly frustrating listen. Their finesse with melodrama has slipped considerably, and the result is an overly postured record with just a few shining moments. Perhaps they are on the right track trying new things that are still in their comfort zone, but a more discerning eye toward which ideas to run with and which to use lightly would have been enormously helpful. It’s not a failure, but it’s not really a good album either, and for the most part it leaves the post-punk revival crowd hoping that the new Interpol will be better.

February was a good month for The Big Pink. Not only had they just been signed to British inde label 4D (along with the likes of Bon Iver and TV on the Radio), but they won the NME Philip Hall Radar Award for best new act as well. Needless to say that after all this expectations were quite high for their debut album, and their own aims were very high as well. A Brief History of Love was to be a concept album of sorts, with each song tackling a different aspect of love, be it “The good, the bad, the boring, the exciting, the dreams, the nightmares,” according to member Milo Cordell. Everything seemed poised to be great, but despite the band’s captivating early singles (included on the album), the band’s long awaited debut is just, well, not that good.

"Oh my god, this place is so groooooooss, hurry up you guys"

A Brief History of Love starts with a luring intro that explodes into a slab of noise with an unremarkable, though adequate melody. There is nothing new or exciting, but it’s got a good beat and the vocals harmonize well. It leads into a slightly more industrial sounding track, Too Young to Love, which is able to carry the momentum, but when Dominos comes after, the album’s continuity stops in its tracks. The shoegaze to industrial switch up made sense, but now indie britpop? It’s also at this point that it starts to look like the duo (vocalist/guitarist Robbie Furze and programmer/synth player Cordell) are more interested in song ideas than actual song writing, as the writing consists of one hook and little else. It’s not even as if the band only fall short when compared to their apparent nineties influences; these styles have been done far better in the last year by A Place to Bury Strangers and Glasvegas, respectively.

The problem with lead single Dominos is that while the chorus and harmonization are catchy, there’s really nothing else to it, and it’s ultimately little more than a reasonably memorable song about growing bored of relationships. Not only does its style far exceed its substance, but it also rubs off oddly onto the following track, the quite-lovely-on-its-own Love in Vain. To hear Furze croon the line, “If you really love him then tell me that you love him again,” in such a crestfallen fashion a mere minute after he is triumphantly declaring that “these girls fall like dominoes,” one can’t help but wonder how genuine could he possibly be. True, it’s not as awkward as Justin Timberlake’s ridiculous tenth grade love letter lyrics in My Love paired with T.I.’s guest rap that is exactly to the contrary, but it rings false all the same. It’s also true that musically speaking, it is the first point on the record where two songs authentically click.

After the admittedly pretty Velvet, Furze and Cordell decide to go retro with Golden Pendulum,  but they push the synth gimmick too far and end up sounding like a bad Adam Ant song (Strip, to be exact), and whatever steam was present is gone by the time Frisk starts. The closing Count Backwards from Ten sounds like a Pixies song with all the energy sucked out, and if Black Francis thought that an unironic chant of “Better off dead” would sound good.

"Girls won't sleep with me! I am now depressed." "Yeah, me too."

The real fatal flaw here is that The Big Pink come across as little more than a couple of guys trying to exude one of their favorite bands with each song, and upon repeated listens this becomes more evident. As a result, it’s not cohesive at all, and while it’s perfectly enjoyable (it’s kind of like a good mixtape, because I like these bands almost as much as they do), it doesn’t really have much of an identity of its own. Basically, A Brief History of Love is a collection of decent ideas and passable songs, but it’s not much of an album.

Back in 2008, a long forgotten year of people sitting in front of computers and listening to mu- oh wait, that was last year – Deerhunter’s frontman Bradford Cox found that his new solo work had leaked online long before it had even been finished, and his understandable outrage nearly convinced him to stop work on the album altogether. Thankfully he didn’t; the scant, incomplete tracks eventually became his sophomore solo effort under the alias Atlas Sound, only to be leaked once again (albeit in its finalized state this time around – the way it should be!).

Jesus Christ, fatty... put down the fork already

The only thing more impressive than Logos’ warm, seducing sound is how prolific Cox has been as of late. In the last two years, in addition to yielding an EP and a full length (two if you count Weird Era Cont.) with his full time band Deerhunter, he contributed to Karen O’s soundtrack to Where the Wild Things Are, did a collaboration with Broadcast, and put out two long players on his own, in addition to six extended plays. Even more impressive than that is the fact that he actually has the creativity to back it all up; from the noisy indie pop of the band he fronts to his own psychedelic solo work, he has shown not a single misstep yet.

Logos plays almost like a more accessible Animal Collective, presenting more or less the same experimental pop paradigm but with a permeating warmth and charm that keeps things (relatively) grounded. In fact, the Collective’s own Noah Lennox (a.k.a. Panda Bear) appears on Walkabout, a great, spacey song cheerfully asking “What did you want to be when you grew up?” with a clever, choppy vocal pattern. The other guest appearance is Laetitia Sadier of Stereolab, another prominent influence of Cox’s, on the atmospheric Quick Canal, an eight minute song so laden with sublime hooks that it’s difficult not to get sucked in, even if only by Sadier’s voice.

A great deal more versatility is shown here than on the first Atlas Sound record, the very intimate Let the Blind Lead Those Who Can See but Cannot Feel.  Cox fleshes out a number of the compositions with folkish acoustic guitar (namely the very Barrett-esque An Orchid and the languorous Attic Lights) while he recalls some of the more lo-fi elements from his debut on My Halo and Washington School. Criminals is a great standout as well, questioning the worth of righteousness against a lively indie poppish backdrop, but the album’s best song could well be Shelia, which carries a simple yet wonderfully expressed willingness to do anything in order to avoid dying alone. Cox finishes off the album with an upbeat title track featuring an understated guitar part straight from an old Western song gone awry and a warped synth driven chorus.

HOLY SHIT DUDE WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR EY-...oooh I get it, you're unique.

On Logos, Cox is uncannily able to indulge in his experimental and psychedelic whims without sacrificing the album’s pop sensibility. Varying arrangements are scattered throughout, but every track is unified by an expertly established mood, and as a result everything flows with precision. Especially for being among nearly ten other releases in the last two years from the same guy, Logos is damned solid.

The Raveonettes responded to the many harsh criticisms of their sophomore effort with 2007’s excellent Lust Lust Lust, a brazen return to the best qualities of their debut Chain Gang of Love. This time around, Sune Rose Wagner and Sharin Foo reintroduce some of the rockabilly seen on the unfairly (though understandably) panned Pretty in Black and downplay the raw shoegazing noise rock sound that dominated its successor. The aims are admirable, but the result is a somewhat detached album that leaves something to be desired, especially with the particularly large shoes it had to fill.

"Are you sure we look bored enough?"

The Raveonettes’ albums seem to have fallen into a pattern of great/not-so-great/great/not-so-great; this 2009 release succumbs to many of the same flaws that blemished Pretty in Black (although In and Out of Control is far less dependent on the wicked 50’s fetish the duo apparently has). As can be said with the former, the branching out and versatility is definitely respectable, but when they’re not playing to their strengths the songwriting loses its consistency. This is even more evident here than on their second record; the softer approach was unquestionably deliberate, but tracks like the opener Bang! sound just like something off of Lust, only without the heavy distortion or energy. Even beyond the moments where the band sounds watered down, the song structures just don’t work in some places. For example, the otherwise enchanting Boys Who Rape (Should All Be Destroyed) is sung with awkward vocal patterns that distract from the duality of Sharin Foo’s lovely delivery and the angry lyrics.

Despite these snags, there is still much to be admired here. Last Dance is driven by a wonderful melody and an extremely catchy chorus, while the bluesy Heart of Stone and (especially) Breaking into Cars have style and attitude in spades. In fact, the songs gain a great deal of momentum toward the album’s close; Break Up Girls! is a most welcome blowout, recalling the best moments from their debut with its first half’s ear shattering distortion and second half’s urgent vocals. The stunning Wine closes things out marvelously with a beautiful slice of dream pop, telling of unrequited love quite convincingly. In fact, one of the most interesting aspects of the album is the frequent juxtaposition of Sune Rose Wagner and Sharin Foo’s dreamy voices and the often incredibly disheartening lyrics; the already touched on Last Dance is even more haunting than the record’s capping track with its story of a lover’s overdose, contrasted by its new wave inflected harmony.

"No, no... now we look too bored. This is hard!"

In and Out of Control’s title is easy to take as a reference to the somewhat unstable songwriting; the move to diversify is not necessarily a bad one, but it will invariably yield a bit of unevenness among the tracks. As inconsistent as this album is, however, it still hosts some of the Raveonettes’ best songs, and as Lust Lust Lust showed, they are perfectly capable of bouncing back from a misstep.

These days, hearing the words “Eighties” and “Revival” anywhere near each other as a description for a new band is about as commonplace as the yawn it’s sure to evoke. The problem isn’t with mining a long gone decade for inspiration, but how unimaginative the pillaging has become. Listening to these groups, one might assume that alternative in the Eighties was purely synth pop, new wave, and post-punk. But what about noise rock? What about shoegaze? Dream pop? A Place to Bury Strangers answers to these, with what just might be the best Post-Punk Revival record since Interpol’s debut.

This cover is so hardcore, even the bandmembers have no idea what it is.

Exploding Head, the band’s second effort, reminds us what real revival is. It’s not about emanating the sounds of your favorite bands; it’s about adding your own ideas and building up on them. Of course, A Place to Bury Strangers makes no secret about their influences, but the sound produced is theirs alone. While My Bloody Valentine and the Jesus and Mary Chain are obvious touchstones, neither group has ever produced anything this visceral, this brutal.

Opener It Is Nothing lets us know right away that the reputation this band has for being obscenely loud and aggressive has been well earned. The warbled introductory guitar quickly leads into a flurry of distortion and stuttering drums, which should not sound as fast as they do with the way drummer Jay Space hammers on his snare. The proverbial icing on the cake is when Oliver Ackermann’s half soothing, half menacing vocals  are crooned over the cacophony. And they’re just getting started.

The very wisely chosen singles, In Your Heart and Keep Slipping Away, show particularly well that it’s not just their aggression, their energy, the fact that they are so effortlessly and relentlessly loud, but that they are downright melodious as well. The hooks are incredible; and not only are they good, they’re sold perfectly. If Robert Smith heard the verses in these two songs, he’d be kicking himself for not having come up with them first.

Following the latter track is Ego Death, a slow burning and brooding piece with trudging, crushing distortion and a  thumping beat. Remember those dark mid-nineties movies (The Crow, Seven, and Strange Days come to mind) with the obligatory scene in a club, featuring an appropriately dark band? This song conjures that perfectly – only unflinchingly heavier and forceful. It truly belongs on the soundtrack to a good cyberpunk movie… though that could easily just be me.

Another great attribute is how well Ackermann is able to sell his vocals over all the noise. Perfect example: On the fourth cut Deadbeat, Ackermann drearily moans, “Why/What the fuck/Don’t play with my heart,” and it doesn’t sound trite, forced, or even whiny. What is most notable though, is that his presence is able to front the talents of Space and bassist Jono MOFO. On the outstanding Smile When You Smile, the rhythm section is in top form all throughout; the ferocious beat and MOFO’s bass, which quite frankly overpowers Ackermann’s guitar a number of times could easily overwhelm a frontman, but his voice is easily able to take command.

Exploding Head is sharp as a tack, masterfully pairing the group’s pop sensibility with their raucous onslaught; a damn strong album from a band with a ton of promise.