A Weather's Everyday Balloons

Track List:

1. Third of Life

2. Winded

3. Ducks in a Row

4. Seven Blankets

5. Midday Moon

6. Newfallen

7. No Big Hope

8. Fond

9. Happiness

10. Giant Stairs

11. Lay Me Down

Rating: 89

It would take too long to get into what I love about the Seinfeld reference A Weather has made with the title of their sophomore effort, Everyday Balloons. But if you’re even familiar with the show (and if you’re not, I’m kind of impressed) then you know the sort of understated brilliance that made the show so popular. Yada, yada, yada, long story short: you don’t need a plot to make a sitcom, and you definitely don’t need a special occasion for balloons. Combine that reference with the supple veneer of A Weather’s arrangements and it’s easy to think of their music as mellow. But this deceptively simple cover hides an infinitely more intricate book than judgment might indicate. In fact, even if you give Everyday Balloons a few casual listens, it may still seem no more than mellow bedroom rock. The truly amazing thing about this album is that, if you really listen, and even crank it up a bit louder than seems necessary, Everyday Balloons takes on a much more anthemic austere. This album plays equally well softly dribbling from your earbuds as it does streaming out of open car windows in the early spring. That kind of duality implies a certain depth to the music that lends itself to heavy rotation on the playlist, the essence of an anthem. To put it another way, you might consider busting out the old discman (ask your parents) for a while and give the iPod a rest.

Cove, in 2008, proved to the world that this previously albumless band deserved every bit of that Bright Eyes opening slot in 2007 and job with his label Team Love. Cove reminded us that slow doesn’t have to mean sad. Nothing about their sound is forced which is really saying something considering the genres in which they’re dabbling. They never try too hard like Stars or Snow Patrol, despite the vocal similarities between Aaron Gerber and Gary Lightbody. They never feel too heavy like The National, though they do try on “Seven Blankets.” They don’t get overly cutesy like The Brunettes or The Ditty Bops, although I’ve heard the alternate album title for Balloons was 1,001 Adorable Similes. All this praise they earned with a debut. With the follow-up, they take a big step towards becoming reference points of the genre like Belle and Sebastian or Iron & Wine.

“Third of Life” starts us off here on Balloons with, if not their best, then at least the most aggressive track on record. It’s aggressive musically, but vocally it’s a really charmingly folksy duet about a couple generally coming to terms with life and love. This is one of the tracks you’re going to need to turn up. Somehow Adam Selzer’s production (Re: M. Ward, The Decemberists) gives the crackling reverb that brings the song to a close a certain delicacy. In a lot of ways, “Third of Life” is reminiscent of Wilco or Yo La Tengo’s spacier distortions, especially when it comes to the meshing of soft and loud. It might be comparatively aggressive, but it’s still rather subtle. The playful little piano bridge into “Winded” and the mantra-like chorus “all that I need is to steadily breathe in and let it out slowly” brings us back to the lighter side of A Weather which is equally important to the duality of the music. The vocals are breathy as ever, but there’s less of a Lightbody feel to Gerber’s voice. The softness feels more genuine, less like stylized whispering. Sarah Winchester’s voice blends with Gerber’s so well that it’s like watching a movie where you know the male and female leads will wind up together. They’re sort of a backwards Mates of State with Winchester on drums, but the chemistry is the same.

“Seven Blankets” is by no means aggressive, but it’s even more ambitious than “Third of Life.” “Third’s” six minutes and 23 seconds feel shorter because of the transitional construction of the song as it expands, and the same is true of “Blanket’s” five and a half minutes. The line between keys and guitar is blurred throughout the album, but especially here. The slow burning melody timed off by what sounds like the dinning of a church bell gives way to more lush instrumentation with a line that pretty well sums up the feeling of the track (or album really): “Just before the pipes froze, I ran the faucet and filled the tub.” Aside from eloquently capturing the essence of their sound, this line is also pretty exemplary of the comfortably domestic metaphors that color their sound so deftly. “Midday Moon” and “Newfallen” demonstrate this theme with lines like “You once were a dish sponge, now you clean tiles in the bathroom where sponges go to die” and “Oh, how fun that we get to be alive at the same time.” On paper, it’s hard to get past how silly it is, but they just work.

“Winded” and “No Big Hope” portray the hot and cold tendencies of A Weather. Whether anthemic or anti-anthemic, the bittersweet lyrics mainly revolve around aging and regrets. The beauty of this album is in the pacing. The tracks flow effortlessly into one another and have the ability to console while they depress. “Midday Moon” feels like Winchester alone with a piano, while tracks like “Third of Life” can feel like there are about a dozen people in the room. Cove fit more comfortably into the chamber pop category, but Everyday Balloons really tests the limits. It’s smart, sweet and soulful without being hackneyed or self-indulgent. These aren’t party balloons, they’re everyday balloons.

Rogue Wave's Permalight

Track List:
1. Solitary Gun
2. Good Morning (The Future)
3. Sleepwalker
4. Stars and Stripes
5. Permalight
6. Fear Itself
7. Right With You
8. We Will Make a Song Destroy
9. I’ll Never Leave You
10. Per Anger
11. You Have Boarded
12. All That Remains

Rating: 66

The first Austin Powers movie was brilliant. The problem was with the next two unwatchable sequels. So how do we go from comedic gold to Goldmember? Essentially, the movie was based on a notebook full of Mike Myers’ musings, so to think a sequel could replicate that kind of magic was pretty stupid. This is why (indirectly) I have been such an unfaltering fan of Rogue Wave. It seems unlikely that any album they put out will top Out of the Shadows. The album that evoked such well struck Shins comparisons (especially as both label and tourmates) did so through rather unique methods. The album was laid down by Zach Rogue in New York and colored in by a band slapped together back in Rogue’s homestate, California, with a little help from the internet. These terms of Out of the Shadows’ conception adorned the album with the ambrosial resplendence of the west coast delivered with the sardonic bent of a despondent New Yorker. It was magical. Thankfully, Descended Like Vultures, the debut for the group as a whole, didn’t go the Austin Powers’ route of regurgitated genius. Instead, Rogue Wave evolved as a group along the blueprint laid out by the debut. The comparison is similar to what Built to Spill is doing now versus Ultimate Alternative Wavers or There’s Nothing Wrong With Love. The heart is the same, but the execution and ornamentation have come a long way.

Permalight, on the other hand, seems to exist in a realm separate from the established storyline. I won’t call it a new page, mostly because I’m hoping it’s just an outlier, but I also hesitate given the circumstances that inspired this reinvention of their sound. The past two years have brought Rogue (and Wave) misery in the form of the tragic death of former band mate Evan Farrell as well as a tour halting injury. A couple of slipped disks in Rogue’s back caused temporary paralysis of his hand. The sheer irony of a guitar player losing sensation in his hand is enough to make the stiffest lipped believe in God, and not in the good way. Rather than wallowing, Rogue took the returned use of his extremities as a gift and decided to make an album in celebration.

That said, part of me really feels like a jerk for not liking the album more. Rogue compared picking up the guitar again to the first time he picked it up, and that youthful energy really does come across, but it’s just a little…well, sophomoric. I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume the abiding injury has stymied the normally intricate guitar playing. After all, Asleep at Heaven’s Gate did get a little heavy, so maybe a dance break is just what we needed? Well now I’m probably being too nice instead of too mean. This is the problem with having a bias.

Let’s look at this objectively. Rogue Wave’s best quality has always been the sense of intimacy. Out of the Shadows is the most raw form of intimacy, but even then it was a little elusive. What Rogue Wave succeeded in doing in their two subsequent records was expanding the framework of the band as they became more familiar with one another and burying the intimacy under layers of vocal harmony and sensationally bombastic production without ever letting the elusive intimacy die completely. Permalight is actually significantly lighter in its production compared to the last two, but the spotlight has shifted from the songwriting to the beats. Weird. “Fear Itself,” “Right With You” and “I’ll Never Leave You” are really the only tracks that feel like vintage Rogue Wave. “I’ll Never Leave You” is head and shoulders above the rest of the tracks in its ability to break your heart and make you smile all at once. Still though, these tracks are inversions of the slippery minor chord tracks like “Seasick on Land” and “Are You On My Side” that were so evocative in that Nick Drake kind of way. Then when you take the almost painfully cheerful tracks like “Per Anger” (ironically), “Stars and Stripes” or “Good Morning (The Future)” it just gets a little tiresome. I’m not saying I dislike any of these tracks, “Good Morning” is particularly addictive, but for the wrong reasons.

I don’t want to wish sadness on somebody I have so much respect and admiration for, but it sure does make a better muse. I guess something so intensely personal really can’t be judged unless you’ve had a similar experience, but the whole new lease on life thing really just doesn’t do it for me. I’ve never really been that close to death, but I am more or less aware of the tenuousness of life. People who insist on appreciating every moment are either hypocritical or downright annoying. Rogue Wave went from making some of their most provocative and slow burning tracks to cranking out pop ditties – they’re really good at it, but it’s just so beneath them.

Broken Bells' Self-Titled

Track List:
1. The High Road
2. Vaporize
3. Your Head Is on Fire
4. The Ghost Inside
5. Sailing to Nowhere
6. Trap Doors
7. Citizen
8. October
9. Mongrel Heart
10. The Mall and Misery

Rating : 72

So here we go again – another sad case of idealism versus reality. At some point I suppose I’ll have to deal with the fact that The Shins are Gone for Good, but for now, I’ll play the part of the jilted child. The reality is that mom and dad have called it quits, a clear cut case of irreconcilable differences. Last year James Mercer announced that The Shins’ drummer and keyboardist left the band on good terms for what he called “aesthetic reasons.” In an interview with The Portland Mercury, Jesse Sandoval reported that “I unequivocally got fired.” Whatever the circumstances surrounding the disbanding, the damage is done. Wincing the Night Away made it clear enough that the days of the basement folk jams are over, so really there’s no surprise. And in the end, what better step father could we ask for than Dangermouse, or Brian Burton as he is billed for the Broken Bells.

It’s easy to say this is a new chapter in Mercer’s story, but really, how can we help but stack this new effort against the towering greatness of Chutes Too Narrow and Oh, Inverted World? Again, as Wincing suggests, Mercer seems to be taking a page from Nick Thorburn’s playbook and embracing the dark side. Broken Bells can also be seen as an extension of the two Mercer tracks from Dark Night of the Soul, without the David Lynch vibe. Even after several listens, I’m still conflicted. Part of me is inspired by the greatness of these two stars aligning, while the other (bigger) part is flabbergasted by the tremendous waste of talent. In a recent best albums of the aughts poll, I placed Chutes in the top slot. Few artists can demonstrate the naturally effortless aggregation of music, lyrics and vocals as Mercer and company achieved on the first two Shins’ albums. When Wincing dropped in ’06, my immediate reaction was anger. I felt cheated after waiting three years for a follow up to what was, in essence, pop perfection. I am still unable to reconcile my expectations following Chutes. What was I hoping for? How does one follow perfection? Should they have pulled a Seinfeld and gone out on top, or would the right play have been to keep on the same track and seemingly hopelessly attempt to harness the lightning the possessed for a third strike? Logic dictates the impossibility of such a feat, but maybe The Shins were destined to be The Beatles of indie folk. We’ll never know for sure.

Putting the past aside as best I can, the Broken Bells have put together a fairly solid debut, but the long view is less optimistic. Mercer sticks with the forty-ish minute run time that has served him so well, but that’s about as far as the similarities go. Not to undercut his craft, I’ll assume the responsibility of not seeing the forest for the trees; but it seems like the tracks are less story oriented than The Shins’. What really gets me about Chutes are the captivating narratives that tug ever so plangently at the heartstrings. My biggest complaint about Broken Bells (other than they’re not The Shins, which really isn’t fair) is the near complete sublimation of Mercer’s genius. “When our kite lines first crossed, we tied them into knots. To finally fly apart, we had to cut them off. Since then it’s been a book you read in reverse, so you understand less as the pages turn, or a movie so crass and awkwardly cast that even I could be the star.” That is a snippet of “Pink Bullets” that haunts me to this day. It’s pure poetry. From what I can comprehend of the Broken Bells’ lyrics, it’s mostly a collection of life lessons without the keen narrative structure that bound the earlier volumes of Mercer’s repertoire. The deficit of enunciation derives mainly from Mercer’s lack luster delivery rather than Inverted’s grainy production that poses similar comprehension issues.

All that said, I really don’t dislike the album. As mentioned, it’s simply a case of idealism versus reality. Where this Broken Bells album succeeds is not to be ignored. I am convinced that there is hope for life after The Shins. The debut may have its share of problems, but the problems are almost exclusively due to the two reputations that precede the band. What it lacks is the sense of grandeur I expected, and that I still feel the music really needs. “October” and “The High Road” are the best tracks offered because they demonstrate a middle ground that surpasses Mercer’s and Burton’s collective pasts. The instrumentation is simply gorgeous and all the more impressive for the fact that the duo is entirely responsible for its synthesis, save Daniele Luppi’s string arrangements. “October” feels like the closest link to the old days of the narrative while still expanding the concepts awkwardly attempted on Wincing. In a lot of ways, this album feels like the last album Mercer tried to make with The Shins; Burton helps him achieve the aesthetic he sought, if you will. “Vaporize,” too, opens in the comfortable confines of Mercer’s vocals over an acoustic guitar, but takes it to the next level proving his voice lends equally well to organ and synth backdrops. If anything, less familiar territory, as in “Your Head is On Fire” and “Sailing to Nowhere” is underexplored. This is where it really feels like a larger sense of grandeur would have helped. If we’re breaking new ground, it needs to be more firmly established. As these tracks are, they’re a bit too elusive with no real climax. All I ask if pressed to endure post-Shins Mercer is to believe that he believes, but I’m just not convinced.

This is a link to the Sandoval interview referenced in the first paragraph:

http://www.portlandmercury.com/portland/nothing-is-permanent/Content?oid=1554912

Zeus' Say Us

Track List:
1. How Does It Feel?
2. Fever of the Time
3. Kindergarten
4. The Renegade
5. Greater Times on the Wayside
6. River by the Garden
7. You Gotta Tell'er
8. I Know
9. Marching Through Your Head
10. The Sound of You
11. Heavy on Me
12. At the Risk of Repeating

Rating: 75

Here’s the thing about Zeus. The concept is great; king of the gods, ruler of Mount Olympus, all powerful slinger of lightning bolts – can’t miss, right? But in reality (or mythology) he’s some crazy son of a cannibal father who uses his allegedly boundless powers primarily to transmogrify into various animals and seduce women. It’s sort of like finding a genie in a lamp and wishing for a sandwich, a Coke and a refill. Why not wish for unlimited food and drink? Why transform into an animal to get with human ladies? It’s a truly baffling misuse of talent, entertaining though it may be. In this regard, Zeus is a pretty fitting name for the band formerly known as Paso Mino. Stepping out from behind Broken Social Scene’s Jason Collett (when can we expect BSS to formerly present him?), Mike O’Brien and Carlin Nicholson demonstrate all of the rudimentary necessities to follow and even one-up fellow British invasion roots rockers Dr. Dog, The Zutons, or the less British Delta Spirit. The heart-breaking reality falls short of the potential as the lightning they sling is less striking than it ought to be.

In typical indie rocker fashion, Zeus denies any attempt towards creating roots rock, claiming their debut, Say Us, is just them doing what they do. But really, nobody could achieve a better crossbreed of The Beatles and Kinks if the were trying. O’Brien and Nicholson split vocal and songwriting duties and even harmonize in a spot on Lennon/McCarthy impression. The noteworthy addition of piano, and its bouncing riffs, since their Paso Mino days really embodies the Kinks’ vibe. All that said, there is nothing about this album I dislike other than being slightly underwhelming. Overall, it’s better than The Zutons’ or Dr. Dog’s debut, and damn close to Delta Sprit’s. What’s missing are the standout tracks, like The Zutons’ “Pressure Point” or Delta Spirit’s “People C’mon.”

At first pass, the impression I came away with was sort of a confused disappointment. There is an unfulfilled yearning left in the wake of these eleven tracks, and for a while, I just couldn’t put my finger on it. Initially I assumed the problem was a lack of variety because I really had trouble recalling specific moments or tracks that I liked, or even disliked for that matter. But now I’ve identified the main source of disappointment. What should have been the best tracks fall flat because there’s just so little life in the vocals. “Greater Times on the Wayside,” the short intro to “River by the Garden,” comes in like a breath of fresh air in all of its McCartney-esque “Oh, Darling” glory. The first three tracks would have been significantly stronger with this sort of aching vigor, but they come off more Julian Casablancas.

With the exception of “I Know,” tracks four through eight are the definitive peak of the album. “River by the Garden” and “You Gotta Tell’er” are surely the standout tracks, but mostly in terms of style rather than quality. “River” glides along on a very low-key finger-plunked walking guitar riff which is notably sparse by comparison, especially to the crunching “You Gotta Tell’er” sounding much more like 70s Doors or Zeppelin than 60s Brit-pop. The qualitative stand out come two tracks later in the form of “Marching Through Your Head” where we can use the term “vocal range” for the first time, and sadly, the last. It’s got that intoxicating swing that makes me really want to like “Kindergarten” the best, but it’s just got more star quality.

I can’t speak authoritatively on this next point, but if Dr. Dog and Of Montreal have taught me anything, and if you can believe what you read online, it’s that these songs almost surely take on a whole new dimension live. It took about five albums for Dr. Dog and Of Montreal to really take hold of the energy they possessed in live performance and translate it to the studio. Now, I’m not predicting any sort of radical transformation like Of Montreal has undergone (is undergoing), but it’s certainly a much different role to shift from backing band to the band. If this review seemed hard on the boys, it’s only because I see such huge potential.