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Humbug
Domino
With the third Arctic Monkeys
record, frontman Alex Turner finally
stakes his claim as the next Britpop
poet laureate, following in the foot
steps of Morrissey and Jarvis Cocker
before him. Whereas Cocker dreams
up saucy fantasies and Morrissey
croons on about irony and sadness,
Turner is disarmingly genuine. He is
a keen observer with a sharp tongue
that makes even the mundane seem
poignant, interjecting pop-culture col
loquialisms into literate witticisms.
On the band’s debut release,
Whatever People Say I Am... .Turner
captured the equally frenetic and awk
ward day-to-day (or, more frequently,
night-to-night) misadventures ot
reckless youth: flirtation, rejection and
drunken shenanigans. The pace was
manic, with Turner spitting out more •
syllables per second than most battle
rappers and working the dance floor
into a frenzy.
On Humbug, Aiciic Monkeys slow
down and unwind to great effect. The
narratives are just as compelling and
intricate as on previous releases, but
the delivery is smoother, darker and,
at times, rather seductive. Turner has
grown from cheeky monkey to James
Bond cool,’ill arched eyebrows and
breathy double entendres, boldly
exploring the many subtle textures of
his voice.
There are still a couple of edgy
rockers on here that revisit Arctic
Monkeys’ previous punk snarl and
syncopated beats, but it’s not all firing
at top speed all the time: the songs rise
and fall, sway and swagger, along with
the twisting plots ot Turner's charming
stories.
Michelle Gilzenrat
WILDBIRDS &
PEACEDRUMS
The Snake
Leaf
Wanderlust-ful, exotic-sounding,
jazz-folksters and Swedish husband
and wife duo Witdbirds & Peacedrums
expand the steady minimalism of their
first album with a more ranged sopho
more effort. While a strictly drums
and vocals album (with occasional
keyboard or stringed flourish) may
implicate a certain banal sparseness,
there is a pagan, religious or otherwise
spiritual force fleshing out the skeletal
arrangements. The reverent chant on
opener “Island" smacks the listener like
ignorantly walking into the middle ot
a time-worn hermetic ceremony. Yeah,
sometimes moments hit like someone
speaking in tongues. Somewhere in the
box of jazz music meta-commentaries,
Witdbirds & Peacedrums are delin
eating the parameters, making the
travelogue to indie, modern gospel and
R&B from its precedent in diasporic
African tribalism very clear. Yeah,
Mariam Wallentin's vocalwork is that
good. As far as contemporaries go,
Beth Gibbon's more intimate moments
with Rustin Man, Angel Deradoorian's
solo work, or maybe if These New
Powers’ Anna Barie could sing and
Pussy-Galored her way through Liar’s
Drums Not Dead it would've ended up
sounding something like this, but the
pilgrimage to Mt. Heartattack would’ve
instead been to Mt. Heartbreak using
guitars as sacrifices. And the lyrics—
the discernible ones—are simple but
end up coming off like proclamations
without pretension. Often metancholi-
cally devastating/ paradoxically hope
ful, W&P's sophisticated primitivism is
as forward thinking as it is historical.
Nice work.
Christopher Benton
HOLIDAY SHORES
Columbus'd the Whim
Twosyllable
Remember a few years ago when
The Shins made everyone go gaga over
Oh, Inverted World! Remember how we
gushed about the echo-laden vocals
and the homemade weirdness that
fitted that album's pop hooks? If you’re
like me and you miss that feeling,
then you'll love Holiday Shores’ album
Columbus'd the Whim. It's spooky,
sprawling and features just enough pop
hoflLs to keep the listener’s attention.
The album feels like something
older, but isn’t a rose-tinted, nostalgia-
fueled look back. Instead, the album
struts and features some of the best,
bouncy, McCartney-on-Revolver
bass guitar around. The second track
■Reruns' is Columbus'd the Whirris
standout cut and what makes Holiday
Shores so good. It builds from ethereal,
almost Fleet Foxes-like harmonies into
a shimmering, clean guitar gallop and
a great vocal melody.
But to call Holiday Shores a
straight pop band is a mislabeling of
epic proportions. The band doesn't
Settle lor simple verse-chorus-verse
rock arrangements. Rather, its music
meanders, diverges and plays against
itself all while reinforcing its melody. If
the songs were any longer and found
a way to incorporate asterisks, they’d
be David Foster Wallace novels. But
the complexity isn’t apparent initially
on Columbus'd the Whim, instead it
creeps up through multiple listens.
There's a tambourine shaking here,
and a chorused guitar rising at the
right moment. This is sprawling and
beautiful rock done on a budget, and
it works. Let’s just hope that Natalie
Portman isn't touting them in a dreadful
movie featuring the guy from "Scrubs’
in a tew years.
Jason Bugg
Holiday Shores are playing at
Flicker Theatre & Bar on Saturday,
Aug. 22.
WYE OAK
The Knot
Merge
On their sophomore album, the
unhurried and spacious rusticity ot
the Baltimore duo is locked in a rivet
ing dance with dizzyingly turbulent
tides of instrumental fury. Spectral
country twangs wind between sonic
mountains that more closely resemble
drama-stacked post-rock in mass and
movement. The music can go from airy,
introspective meditation to gathering
squalls of noisy feedback that some-
tirpes threaten to swallow. Floating
throughout is Jenn Wasner's unassum
ingly graceful voice, a calming, stabi
lizing force amid all the sonic unrest.
Tne modern, pastoral dreaminess
of “Tattoo" drifts between Carlon and
Fleet Foxes white “Siamese" serves up
an outstanding slice of window-gazing
chamber-pop like a less pristine Ivy.
More representative standouts include
Take It ln,“ which teeters back and
forth between simmering, halt-lidded
lullaby and the roiling brink of a .
boil-over, and "For Prayer,’ a sighing
country-folk song wailing with pedal
steel that rises into sudden storms of
guitar noise.
With string sweeps, pedal steel
curls and groaning guitar drones, The
Knot is a near-perfect am^jgam of
styles. Its masterful pacing spellbinds
with an infinity of emotion and expres
sion within its ebbs and flows. Add
tasteful textures and incisive melodies
and you have a richly rewarding work.
Bao Le-Huu
Wye Oak is playing at the EARL in
Atlanta on Thursday, Oct. 8.
PORTUGAL.
THE MAN
The Satanic Satanist
Equal Vision
For the ever-fluxing Alaskan
band, every new album means a new
angle. But instead of the ambitious
density of their previous two albums,
this one's all steeze and seduction.
Fluid breezes now replace anguished
clenches. There’s still much sonic
meticulousness, it's just not trying so
hard to challenge and displace you.
The coaxing approach actually allows
their latent, classic 70s tendencies to
breathe more naturally, basking every
thing in a golden radiance.
Further setting them apart is the
decision to fit this album with artisti
cally ornate packaging in light of the
increasingly faceless digital tide. Front
man John Baldwin Gourley s psyche
delic drawings are brought to life in
intricately layered origami-like fold-
outs. Though it makes accessing the
actual CD tricky, the visual and tactile
appeal makes it something worth own
ing and brings a physical dimension
back to the music experience.
The Satanic Satanist is a very con
sistent work whose greatest highlights
are the blue-eyed soul of The Sun,"
the space balladry of “Let You Down"
and the honeyed Southern sways of
“People Say" It’s approachable but
not Huff and is actually a great starting
point for noobs. For longtime listeners,
it’s a warm respite that's proof of a band
cognizant of their artistic trajectory
Bao Le-Huu
THENTERNS
The Interns
Independent Release
Whether as a reaction to people's
tendency to illegally share albums.
or as a gesture from the goodness of
their hearts, local band The Interns has
released its debut, sett-titled album
for FREE at theinterns.bandcamp.com.
While not without its faults, the album
is worth more than the cost of the time
it takes to download it.
The first track on the album, “The
Demons Inside," is ambitious and
closes with an extended guitar solo.
For the next three songs, though, the
band tails a little too far into the mag
net, tar-pit trap of time delayed effects.
Some of the songs on the album sound
like outtakes from early My Morning
Jacket records. Part ot the resemblance
is due to The Interns' use of the whole
upper-vocal-register-singing-in-a
corn-silo vocal trick perfected by Jim
James on early My Morning Jacket
Records.
However, the album really comes
to tile with “My Broken Arm." Featuring
a variation of the classic country ‘train
beat" pattern on the snare drum, the
song is the first truly up-tempo and
catchy song on the album. “One ot
My Own’ is another track that creaks
the mold established by the first four
songs and demonstrates the breadth of
the band’s talents. Despile the transpar
ency of their influences on a handful
of tracks, one gets the impression The
Interns are on the verge of becoming a
force to be reckoned with in the local
music scene.
John Seay
The Interns celebrate their
CD release at the 40 Watt Club on
Thursday, Aug. 20.
18 FLAGPOLE.COM • AUGUST 19,2009