Soundoffs 239
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Last Active 02-03-15 8:16 pm
Joined 01-01-12

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Sufjan Stevens Carrie and Lowell
Managing to still sound like a rosy-cheeked ghost-cherub at nearly 40 is a feat in itself, but the truly-beaming-accomplishment is songwriting that's simultaneously this sparse, powerful, and even catchy. Strewn with bereavement, animal metaphors, religion, mythology and retrospection, he seldom needs more than acoustic pluckings and piano taps to caress you like a thousand feathers and create an optimized aura of tenderness+melancholy.
Marina and The Diamonds Froot
Jlin Dark Energy
Its harrowing and serrated nature may leave the common foot-worker apprehensive and rooted - but from the reptilian rattles and gear grindings, to the chopped operatics and stuttering bobble-heads, to the irresistible finger-snap+air-gust-accented African-military-stomp section, this busy electronic horror-twitch percussion-fest distinguishes itself while still demanding movement and attention. The dialogue-samplings from The Ring/Mortal Kombat/Mommie Dearest seem a bit conspicuous in their familiarity, but thematically feel right at home.
Naked City Naked City
Their collectively limitless virtuosity+versatility allows them to genre-weave with ease, often at times in the blink of an eye - in and out of jazz-rock both lavish and raunchy, refined-hardcore-grind-clamor, film-score re-workings - bandleader John Zorn's trademark squawking-and-gurgling-like-a-flock-of-tortured-birds alto sax can just as easily be steadied into smooth+sweeping traditionalism. The mid-section turns the controlled-chaos up a notch with a salvo of sub-minute ditties featuring Tazmanian-devil vocals from the Boredoms' Yamatsuka Eye, while towards the end a rip-roaring James Bond theme (with fake gunshots and all) is sure to gr
Artificial Brain Labyrinth Constellation
ILOVEMAKONNEN Drink More Water 5
"Me and my friends don't go to jail": a pretty callous chorus-boast from a guy whose music career took off shortly after escaping a manslaughter charge for accidentally killing, erm, his friend. It's pretty detestable compared to sellin' at the club while under house arrest, which can be said for nearly any time he attempts the drug-money tough-guy thing - the atrocious opening freestyle and amazingly stiff "Cash Cash" verse are exemplary hints that he should stick to singing, and when he does, it's consolation - unique voice with a knack for hooks, and instead of rigid mumbling, he actually sounds sad/happy/impassioned about girls/girls/coca
Camper Van Beethoven Telephone Free Landslide Victory
These goofballs' entrenchment in California punk circa 1983 is mostly referential and lies somewhere between caricature and homage - their whole absurdist-alt-country-slack-gypsy-ska thing probably would've had 'em scene-shunned from the get-go. It's heavy on the ~two-minute-instrumentals, which can get trying, but they are decently dispersed, and pretty good listens with pretty fun titles.

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