Michael Leonhart & the Avramina 7's Seahorse & the Storyteller

Rating: 56

Track List:
1. Seahorse and the Storyteller
2. Have You Met Martina?
3. Scopolamine
4. Gold Fever
5. The Story of Echo Lake
6. Dr. Killjoy
7. Jaipur
8. Madhouse Mumbai
9. Dreams of an Aquarian
10. Avramina Comes Up from the Deep
11. Shh… They’re Sleeping
12. Here Comes the Dragonfish

The fact that I chose to review this album is something of an ironic coincidence. Just like Michael Leonhart and his Avramina 7, it turns out I dove in head first a little too quickly without really knowing what I was getting myself into. Usually I do a little more research before committing to review the work of a band, but for whatever reason, watching the video for “Dreams of an Aquarian” was all the convincing I needed. Little did I know, this was not just any old band with some new record dropping, far from it. Michael Leonhart has an absurdly impressive resume with bands he has either performed with or produced. Feel free to check out his website for a more extensive list, but be impressed and even tickled by this brief taste: A Tribe Called Quest, Bobby McFerrin, Bonnie Raitt, Brian Eno, Busta Rhymes, David Byrne, Foreigner, James Brown, Lenny Kravitz, Michael McDonald, Mos Def, Natalie Merchant, Raekwon, Sharon Jones & the Dapkings, Slash, Steven Tyler, Todd Rundgren, and Wynton Marsalis. Wow.

In my defense, I had every reason to totally dig “Dreams of an Aquarian.” Just like one of his many collaborators, Sharon_Jones_&_the_Dapkings, I was thoroughly excited by Leonhart’s apparent continuation of the re-funkification of these United States. (The very fact that Microsoft Works doesn’t recognize “funkification” should be proof enough of our dire straits.) I’ve never really understood why funk has all but disappeared from the modern rolodex of musical genres. I might be too young to complain about the lack of soul in modern music, but hey, even old people are right from time to time. I could hardly offer up an argument against this man’s musical merits (did you see that list?), but it seems to me that front-man should be removed from his list of accomplishments. This whole scenario reminds me of one of my favorite musical jokes. What’s the last thing the drummer said to his band? “Hey guys, let’s play some of my stuff.” I don’t think anybody’s making the case that you don’t need drummers (except maybe The Decemberists), the point is, basically, know your role.

Most of Leonhart’s solo career is significantly less funky, and from what I can tell, largely forgettable. Sadly, this seems to be the case for Seahorse and the Storyteller as well. The LP is something of a concept album; while not every song is specifically nautically themed, most are. Starting off with the title track, I was still excited with my selection. They sound sort of like a funkier Super Furry Animals replete with Leonhart’s Gruff vocals. The wandering bass and horn flares are most enjoyable -- not a bad start. But directly following is possibly the most annoying track on the disc, “Have You Met Martina?” I can just see these guys on stage introducing the band in typical fashion with this track as the puzzlingly overextended finale. Like most of this album, that performance seems like it would be infinitely more entertaining live.

Musically, it’s pretty solid as you might guess, it’s mostly the lyrics and vocal melodies that run this ship aground. “The Story of Echo Lake” and “Dreams of an Aquarian” are definite highlights, not only as the best tracks but also as essentially the only tracks that break the mold cast by the rest of the album. “Echo Lake” is less funky and more dreamlike in accordance with Leonhart’s back catalogue, it’s also easily the best chorus and the least forcibly aquatic material. “Dreams” stands out as the best vocal effort, but it’s sadly lacking in the funk department.

If they had abandoned the nautical theme, the album probably would have benefited. As it stands, by the time we get to “Here Comes the Dragonfish,” I’m so thoroughly sick of it all that I can hardly stand to finish. While I praise the Avramina 7 for their contribution to the funk revival, it’s difficult to find much else worthy of praising. If you like goofball jam bands, then this crew might just float your boat, but for me, I’d rather listen to the Spongebob theme a dozen times.

Parlovr's S/T

Rating: 86

Track List:
1. Pen to the Paper
2. Sandwalking
3. On the Phone
4. Hiccup!
5. Sever My Ties
6. Speech Bubble/Thought Cloud
7. In Your House
8. Archy & Mehitabel
9. Sleeping Horses
10. Palace of Identical Things
11. All the World is All That is the Case

Officially this album dropped back in 2008 in a self-released version, and from what I can tell from some rather extensive internet cruising, Dine Alone Records’ version is little more than a re-branding. Parlovr’s brand of self described “sloppy pop” is right at home as a DIY manifestation, but really, there aren’t any production flaws to speak of, so why bother re-recording? It’s certainly not what I’d describe as clean production, but clearly, that’s not really what this three-piece was shooting for. It seems like the only thing they really are shooting for is their own identity separate from their Montreal brethren. There are certainly some overlapping tendencies with bands like Arcade Fire, Stars, Islands/The Unicorns, Plants and Animals and Wolf Parade, or Broken Social Scene (Toronto), but they only come through in brief flashes. There’s the totally bonkers drumming and shout-singing from Arcade Fire, the mutilated pop brilliance of Nick Thorburn, the brushes with epic like Stars, the quick change hard and soft dynamics like BSS or Plants and Animals, and the thoroughly fascinating duality between the two lead vocalists like Wolf Parade. The thing is, once you think you’ve got their dynamic figured out, they’re onto something new. Let’s just hope Alex Cooper doesn’t split the vote with his own little Sunset Rubdown.

The band name Parlovr, while looking like the vanity plate of a golf enthusiast, is actually pronounced parlour (or parlor if you‘re from ‘mer’ca). The only real defense of this bit of trickeration I can think of is looks can be deceiving. This act makes one hell of a lot more noise than you might think possible of a three-piece, and despite the lack of bass, the treble really never gets too overwhelming. Basically, whatever you think you know about Parlovr, you’re wrong (they insist).

Don’t believe me? Give the sonic boom that starts off “Pen to the Paper” and the album a listen, bearing in mind it’s just two guitars and drums. It’s some big, big noise, but unlike BSS or Arcade Fire, they don’t need a band member count in the double digits to pull it off. They’re incredibly basic on paper, but their sonic sleight of hand is more than a little bewildering. “Sandwalking” slows down the momentum a little and legitimately sounds like a three-piece making it feel like Parlovr’s finding a nitche , but two minutes in has the boys busting out of that tidy little box with some grooving drumming and vocal squawks that make “Crown of Love” seem amateurish. But it’s not all about shirking normalcy for Parlovr. “On the Phone” with it’s tinkling xylophone and charming “oohs” and “Hiccup!” with it’s hooking riff chugging along throughout make pretty good candidates for pop songs. But again, “Sever My Ties” comes along and blows everything you think about the first four tracks right out of the water with downright daffy energy. And then here we go again, our boys throw us for yet another loop with the acoustic guitar and totally 80s keys carrying us through six minutes of the really smart examination of the sometimes disparaging distance between words and feelings in relationships in “Speech Bubble/Thought Cloud,” easily the standout track of the LP.

If nothing else, Parlovr proves their erratic tendencies aren’t so much a lack of focus as it is an exhibition of a plethora of good ideas. It might seem like a band struggling to carve out their own unique slice of the Montreal scene, but really, that struggle is their slice. In some ways, these guys represent bits and pieces of all of what makes the Montreal scene so exciting, but in more ways, Parlovr is doing what nobody else is. There’s no point in wondering whether the group is coming or going, when after these eleven tracks, it’s clear Parlovr is here to stay.

Rafter's Animal Feelings

Rating: 89

Track List:
1. No Fucking Around
2. A Frame
3. Timeless Form, Formless Time
4. Fruit
5. Feels Good
6. Animal Feelings
7. Paper
8. Never Gonna Die
9. Only You
10. Love Makes You Happy
11. Beauty, Beauty

To quote the venerable MrFukhed’s musing on Rafter’s YouTube video for “Paper,” “i bet theres gonna be a bunch of indie fucks swingin from the balls of this group.” As an indie fuck, I can attest to the categorical truth of this statement. Animal Feelings is the album I’ve been waiting for since Hot Chip’s The Warning. I feel I’ve failed in a major way since this review is the first I’ve heard of the work of Mr. Rafter Roberts; at least, it’s the first time I’ve been made aware of his presence. Setting up his own studio, Singing Serpent, with Glen Galloway required an exchange of manual labor for recording time with (this abridged list courtesy of Asthmatic Kitty) Fiery Furnaces, Black Heart Procession, Sufjan Stevens, Hot Snakes, Castanets, Gogogo Airheart, Rocket From The Crypt, Liz Janes, Arab on Radar, The Rapture, The Album Leaf, Bedroom Walls, Kill Me Tomorrow, Tristeza, The Peppermints, Rogue Wave, Tarantula Hawk, Maquiladora, Aspects of Physics, Upsilon Acrux, Howard Hello. So yes, I’ve certainly heard his work.

For those of you as shamefully ignorant as I, the good news is there really couldn’t be a better jumping off point into the world of Rafter than Animal Feelings. Like Animal Collective, working backwards through his catalogue ought to increase your appreciation of his earlier, more difficult material... although I do sometimes tell first-timers to give Spirit They’re Gone, Spirit They’ve Vanished a listen just so I can chuckle to myself. Rafter’s Music for Total Chickens is roughly equivalent to Pullhair, Rubeye in terms of blind ambition, but less dizzying. Rafter has always had his finger to the pulse of pop, which keeps his music a little more grounded, and Animal Feelings is the testament to that fact. As much as I love a good bout of indie-cred one-upmanship, at the end of the day, nothing sets these toes to tapping like a quality pop song.

For those of you admirably less ignorant than I, this LP might strike you as something of a curveball. Actually, to stay true to the baseball metaphor, it’s more like a fastball when you’re digging in for that knuckler. Right from the stretch, “No Fucking Around” comes straight down the middle--it’s the high heat, the stinky cheese; but enough of the baseball references. Literally, Rafter is flat out telling us there will be no fucking around with sampling snippets of improvised chaos and piecing together of randomized over-thoughts (not that there’s anything wrong with that). Previously Rafter made music for the mind, now he’s making it explicitly for the hips. The softly cooed verses meet up with beats and talk-boxing fresh enough to keep the hardest of rappers gan’sta, but it never feels tongue in cheek. “A-Frame” keeps us moving bringing in some playfully funky guitar licks and the always welcome baritone sax. “Timeless Form, Formless Time” has our hero succeeding in his mission of making adorable pop music that is completely un-lame. If that wasn’t close enough to pop perfection, “Fruit” unquestionably seals the deal. This is the song/album Nick Thorburn would make if he could only focus.

The real strength of this album is how tastefully the production brings the funk but tactfully pulls punches, never allowing the cowbells, handclaps, bari sax, talk-boxing and myriad other accentuations get tired. “Feels Good” in the middle is the perfectly timed slow-jam to soothe the almost certain dance-induced heat stroke of the absolutely unstoppable first half. Now everyone should know why Rafter is Asthmatic Kitty’s favorite producer. MrFukhed, to you I say, you could not be more right. This disc is my (and surely others of my ilk) wet dream. If there was some slide whistle and possibly some laser noises, I think I probably would have dancegasmed to death.

The Dead Weather's Sea of Cowards

Rating: 86

Track List:
1. Blue Blood Blues
2. Hustle and Cuss
3. The Difference Between Us
4. I’m Mad
5. Die By The Drop
6. I Can’t Hear You
7. Gasoline
8. No Horse
9. Looking At The Invisible Man
10. Jawbreaker
11. Old Mary

Jack White and I go back a long way, about nine years to be exact. My sophomore year in high school was the year I befriended my musical mentor, and the Stripes’ White Blood Cells was one of the first albums I truly fell in love with. My love was and is so thorough that getting my hands on every piece of Jack’s diverse repertoire was simply not enough. I found it necessary to indelibly etch a peppermint swirl on my now favorite patch of skin, my only tattoo to date. Since my induction, I went on to enjoy not only five more White Stripes LPs, but also The Go’s Whatcha Doin’?, both Raconteurs LPs, every Upholsterers’ and Goober & the Peas (yeah, that’s right) track I could find, Loretta Lynn’s Van Lear Rose and even his forays into film including Cold Mountain and Coffee & Cigarettes. So imagine my surprise when I heard of yet another project, The Dead Weather. Like his shtick of staying in the back of The Raconteurs’ press photos, Jack allegedly plays a background role as he returns to his original instrument, the drums. Although really, it seems a lot more like everybody’s playing everything. And let’s be honest, who else could possibly be responsible for “all the white girls trip when I sing at Sunday service?”

The Dead Weather are a supergroup in every sense of the term, excepting the implication of laziness (lookin’ at you, Monsters of Folk). Alison Mosshart (The Kills) took the lion’s share of vocal duties on the debut but on this LP it is sometimes impossible to tell who’s singing. In addition to vocals, Mosshart splits guitar work with Jacks White and Lawrence (The Raconteurs) and lastly we have Dean Fertita (Queens of the Stone Age) on damn near everything, but mostly bass and synth. The key difference between The Dead Weather and The Raconteurs is the energy. Don’t get me wrong, I have little bad to say about The Raconteurs, but it certainly falls more into the overly comfortable lazy trappings that ensnare so many less-than-supergroups. Most similar to The Kills, The Dead Weather kicks out dirty, grungy, Detroit rock city throwback jams that should make veterans like MC5 or Iggy & the Stooges stand and salute. Naturally, Horehound caught my and most critics attention, but Sea of Cowards should quell any doubts of this group’s verity.

If there’s any real difference between Horehound and Sea of Cowards, it’s that the former had more obvious singles like “I Cut Like a Buffalo” and “Treat Me Like Your Mother.” This album’s lack of standouts speaks more to its consistency than really being a drawback. The Dead Weather just feel more defined as opposed to sounding like talented musicians from different bands. Second albums are make or break, and Sea of Cowards is proof enough that The Dead Weather are very much alive. But it’s more than consistency, it’s authenticity. This music is not about singles, it’s about gut shaking guitar solos and bass so thick you have to look around for the nearest toilet. It really seems like there is a tactical absence of the glorious propensity for hooks or choruses or anything that might water this music down. At this point, Mosshart and White have done enough to establish their legitimacy, this project is just the opportunity they both needed to really sound off. It really must be nice to be so genuinely badass that recording a jam session this self-indulgent can produce such effortless brilliance. Jack has never been one to labor over his recordings, usually banging them out in a week or two, but it’s never sloppy. How can you not love that?

Black Bug's S/T

Rating: 82

Track List:

1. Razor Face

2. Well Well

3. Run

4. Mental Ray

5. Inside Out

6. The Wave

7. I’ve Got Eyes

8. Unicorn

9. Billy Montana

10. S.R.A.

11. Beating Your Heart Out

12. Untergang

13. Make Her

14. Fall in Love With

15. Absorbing Hearts

When I recommended the chick punk outfit Vivian Girls to my girlfriend, her insightfully pithy reply was “does punk even exist anymore?” Aside from reaffirming my admiration, this question really made me think. For such an inherently anti-label label as punk, what does it really mean to be “punk” in this day and age? Thinking about this conundrum from a different perspective, it’s pretty comparable to modern art. In the heyday of punk, or say, the Dadaist art movement, there was legitimate potential for a counter-culture to develop. But now it’s 2010 and pretty much anything that can arguably be considered culture has been countered. Although really, waxing philosophical is probably altogether the wrong approach to punk. So on to the subject at hand, Black Bug’s debut. Whether you call it punk, post-punk, post-post-punk, or art punk (as I see it), the resulting LP is pretty compelling. To me, pure punk is a group’s utter lack of encumbrance with the popular hang-ups like what their particular brand of noise sounds like or how it is received. In short, this is not that.

My vote is for art-punk for little more reason than the artfully poor production. The pointedly crass disposition of the album feels a little frenetic at first pass, but seamless transitions are not always the best course to successful album flow. Especially when considering the tracks closer to the borderline of unpleasantness, the latent benefits of the construction of the album come to bear. The buzz saw quality of the synth on tracks like “Unicorn” and “Beating Your Heart Out” would be pretty unbearable without the mercurial deviations between each track. “Mental Ray” at a little over two minutes is as long as any of these little studies in the dark side of melody lasts. The whole album clocks in under half an hour, showcasing this Swedish duo’s impressive grasp of the fundamentals of not only punk, but entertainment in general. Don’t wear out your welcome (right, Ian Curtis?) and always leave the audience wanting more.

Officially, the duo is comprised of synth and drums, but it really sounds more like a drum and bass duo along the lines of Death From Above 1979, or maybe they’re more like The Mates of States’ evil twins. Lily’s synth is just as versatile as Kori Gardner’s keys, just with a penchant for malice and destruction. From droning along in hazy exaltation, as in “Fell in Love With,” to the comparatively sprightly cadence of “The Wave,” Lily spins what could easily be depressing into truly fascinating. The erratic synth and the curious about faces like the most decidedly post-punk track “Inside Out” stuck between two of the album’s (dare I say charming?) instrumentals is enough to keep this band out of the muck and mire from whence they emerged.

As much praise as I can heap on this engagingly compact LP, it’s certainly not for everyone. For starters, be prepared for the tragically less hip (and probably better adjusted) rightfully shouting at you to turn that racket down. There really aren’t any standout tracks to be readily dog-eared, it’s really more about the experience. The upside is, it’s not just noise for the sake of noise. So go ahead, wear that disdain like a badge of honor – because if you can put forth the necessary effort that this LP deserves, you deserve it.