Smells Like Pop

In last week’s show, what evidence proved that Alt-J is a nerd-rock band? 1) Towels (not beer) laid out neatly for each of them on stage by a dutiful stagehand–clearly this was in their rider contract somewhere; 2) Two glockenspiels on set; 3)  The members enter and leave the stage, one flashing the “Delta” sign (Alt-J is the Mac keyboard shortcut to the symbol  ∆, in itself a nerdy reference to the Greek symbol for change)–and many in the crowd flash the goofy gang-sign back. “Triangles are my favorite shape,” Joe Newman sings,”three points where two lines meet.” His voice ranges from oddly nasal to high falsetto, vocalizing lyrics that are hard to decipher but make reference to eclectic topics like the digits in pi, random French phrases, and broom-shaped dildos. Or something. Much of it is delivered in harmony with keyboardist Gus Unger-Hamilton, an effect that often sounds like monks chanting in a monastery. Drums are tight, more like a marching band, and the guitar work is precise. The overall effect, just like on the album, is that you are witnessing a complex composition, a piece of art that is hard to take apart.

Nevertheless, the young crowd is adoring. They shout back lyrics that they must have read online somewhere. The band’s sudden popularity is evident in this show’s transfer to the sterile Roseland, the sell-out of this larger venue, and the announcement of a show at the larger-yet Crystal Ballroom in August. Ticket prices climb, too–from the $16 I paid for this one to $30 next time around. For a band with a single album. A fine one at that, but maybe they’re shooting for an arena tour the next time around. Hope not. But ever since Arcade Fire won a Grammy for their own arty themed album, The Suburbs, all bets are off.

Alt-J puts on a great show, but from a grumpy perspective it was almost too perfect, an exact replication of their recorded work. The best live shows are a glimpse behind the curtain, a chance to see how a band clicks. My bias is toward performances that are rough around the edges. Alt-J was anything but, and even though it was a chance to see how they could perform such a mix of cut-and-paste elements, it’s still pretty opaque. David Byrne writes that it’s unfair that we ask bands to be good at both recording remarkable music and performing it live, but that’s what makes the great ones stand out. To be sure, many of the songs Alt-J performed were incredible–”Taro” was beautiful, with its stunning slide guitar passages. Also, they performed an acoustic set earlier in the day at Mississippi Studios, which sounds like it was a totally different side of the band, as in the Tiny Desk Concert linked below. Perhaps that’s their Nirvana moment, when the band shows what it can really do when all its tricks are unplugged, and maybe the adoring fanatics are right about these guys after all.

Watch the Alt-J Tiny Desk Concert 

“Symphonic pop” wows sold out PDX show

When Kishi Bashi launched into the first of his two covers (teasing that it was a song he “wrote” as a member of a Sinead O’Connor cover band in the 80’s), the only thing keeping the song (which actually ended up being a song made famous by another Irish singer, Enya’s new-age “classic” “Orinocco Flow”) from being too campy was his straight face and, eventually, his sheer musicianship.

Such was a night at the sold-out show at Holocene; devoted and enthusiastic fans packed into a performance space which (as SLP has noted in the past) can too often live up to its name (hollow-scene), pretentiousness and standoffishness leading to feigned indifference. But this would not be the case this evening, as Kaoru “K” Ishibashi wowed the crowd with his phenomenal violin playing, masterful work on effects pedals and – ultimately – his utilization of the best instrument on the stage…an amazing singing voice.

The nearly two-hour set (impressive for an artist with only one full-length album – 2012’s excellent 151a – under his belt) showcased the quirky, symphonic pop that an artist who has developed his “chops” by touring with Of Montreal and Regina Spektor might be expected to create.

Joined by opening act Tall Tall Trees (a fellow NYC “one-man-band”, but utilizing the banjo instead of a violin) and multi-instrumentalist/vocalist Elizabeth Ziman (of Brooklyn’s Elizabeth and the Catapult), Kishi Bashi became a full-fledged band, with all members contributing vocals, recreating the sophisticated harmonies and melodies of his songs with amazing expertise.

The audience’s familiarity became clearer and clearer as the night went on, as the crowd frequently joined in the singing, especially when the band performed “Bright Whites”, the Shins-y tune made somewhat famous by its use in a Microsoft commercial (at least three KB tunes have been used in commercials – sharing the ability to create catchy commercial jingles with Of Montreal’s Kevin Barnes). So it was particularly interesting when the artist shared his story about almost being “forced” (due to demand) to create a proper song (“Philosophize In It Chemicalize With It”) for the 30 second jingle that took Japan by storm for yet another commercial. The song was brilliant, by the way.

Before ending the night with the stellar “Manchester”, KB made a more than subtle nod to the adoring PDX crowd – and also reinforced THIS writer’s suspicions of the influence of James Mercer – by playing an amazing cover of The Shins’ “Kissing the Lipless”…a tune he claimed he wanted to cover at SXSW last year, until he saw the imposing view of Mr. Mercer looking down on him from a video screen, playing at a stage across from him.

I don’t believe that Kishi Bashi would have anything to fear from his musical “Big Brother”.

The Deer Tracks leave their mark in Portland

Part way into their set, The Deer Tracks reminded me of what a pushover I am for music from their (self-declared) small country of Sweden.

As the combination of musical proficiency, drama (both sonically, as well as visually) and variety of instrumentation drew the audience (yours truly included) in, other admirable Swedish artists came to mind: the eclecticism of Karin Dreijer Andersson (Fever Ray, The Knife), the bombast and epic-ness of MEW, and the crisp percussiveness of Jose Gonzalez’ Junip.

After solid sets from Like a Villain (described by one person as “Alabama Shakes meets Tuneyards”), and Billygoats (catchy, adventurous  electronic/folk/pop), The Deer Tracks – the brainchild/project of vocalist/multi-instrumentalists Elin Lindfors and David Lehnberg – expertly performed music from their brief, but sonically wide-ranging, catalog, it became clear that these were earnest musicians with a vision. Considering that Portland’s Mississippi Studios would be the inaugural performance in a 30 show tour that will take them around North America (with stops in Toronto and Montreal, aside from Midwest, East Coast, and SXSW), it’s clear that they have the big picture.

Joined on stage by two percussionists (an electronic drummer, as well as a drummer on a standard kit), Lindfors’ soaring, ethereal vocals and Lehnberg’s impassioned keyboards were placed front and center – providing a fleshed-out sound that truly transformed the performance space. The two jumped between their various instruments (Lindfors joked with me afterwords about the sheer volume of musical gear she had to navigate between the artists performing that night) – but managed quite expertly.

The band shared with me their origins in the north of Sweden (their bio alluding to recording in remote cabins), with an implied – yet humble – sense of pride in what has become a very diverse music scene in their country, one which is getting recognition in the States as well. I was able to share with them that I  (once asked) was not only familiar with The Tallest Man on Earth, but that I had seen two of his performances in the last couple of years. Along with the aforementioned artists, I’ve also had the privilege of seeing Little Dragon, a band that inhabits a similar musical climate of what might be called “organic electronica”.

Yes, SLP could stand for “Swedes Like Portland”.

The Deer Tracks’ latest, The Archer Trilogy, Part III, is now available in the US, and demonstrates a band that is still harnessing its raw power and dramatic sound and intensity, but finding plenty of catchy rhythms and hooky tunes along the way.

The album An Awesome Wave by Alt-J (∆) was released in the UK last spring to rave reviews, ultimately receiving the 2012 Mercury Prize for innovative work (the prior winners, for comparison, were PJ Harvey and The XX). The album was only released in the US in the fall, which perhaps explains its lessened momentum here, where it didn’t appear on many “best of” lists. One notable exception was NPR’s Bob Boilen, who named it his album of the year, comparing it favorably with Dirty Projectors’ Swing Low Magellan. Both albums can be found in the hard-to-categorize section that is not on your radio (unless you’re streaming KEXP), and are each vocally-focused, having more in common with a cappella groups or even your parents’ jazz outfits like The Manhattan Transfer than with their lo-fi garage indie peers. “Tessellate” is a nice introduction to the band, referring to the phenomenon in nature and art of patterns within patterns, which perfectly describes their approach to music. Arty, kind of heady stuff, addictive to me but probably not for everyone:

On a sour note, the Portland booking agents for the band’s current tour recently moved the spring show from the warm Wonder Ballroom to the bigger and more sterile skid-row venue The Roseland. Unsuspecting concert-goers can expect to get frisked or risk the wrath of steroid-ragey bouncers. An unlikely atmosphere for good music, where decent bands like Shabbazz Palaces and Sleigh Bells have recently been shouted down by agitated crowds. This may sound whiny, and I know it’s more money for the artists, but when promoters’ decisions are based purely on business rather than aesthetics it undercuts the whole endeavor and turns people away. A representative for Monqui didn’t reply to my admittedly terse message.

Here are my ten favorite albums (I found this year more memorable for artists who toured, than albums released – but here it goes):

• Field Music – Plumb: Like The Shins, their past is their closest competition for these XTC-inspired UK popsters. Not a weak track in a prog-rock masterpiece.
• Grizzly Bear – Shields: Though you can hear the influences of Jeff Buckley, Radiohead – the record never sounds derivative. Great songs and musicianship.
• Tame Impala – Lonerism: Though not as good as their debut, this record still fills a void left by other bands that Dave Fridmann produces.
• David Byrne/St. Vincent – Love this Giant: She brought out the young man in him; he matured the sometimes too-precious young lady in her. Add horns – sonic fun!
• Beach House – Bloom: For those of us who could not get enough of Teen Dream.
• Dirty Projectors – Swing Lo, Magellan: Not as novelty-filled as Bitte Orca, but every bit as adventurous.
• Richard Hawley – Standing at the Sky’s Edge: Not terribly different from his last couple of records, but still the master of his genre; ennui-tinged crooning from the depths of despair, the seat of a motorcycle.
• Sharon Van Etten – Tramp: This seems like a classic already, partially because it’s been out so long, partially because of solid songcraft.
• The Shins – Port of Morrow: They’re the losers to the competition in their genre – their past catalog…that being said, more solid pop songcraft, with more nods to the 70’s (Steely Dan, Jackson Browne, Wings).
• Frank Ocean – channel Orange: Hands down the best soul/r & b record of the year, will get me by until the next Raphael Saadiq album. Gotta love anything Andre 3000 guests on, for that matter.

Honorable mentions:

Menomena – Moms, Bat for Lashes – The Haunted Man, Brian Jonestown Massacre – Aufheben, Black Moth Super Rainbow – Cobra Juicy, The Tallest Man on Earth – There’s No Leaving Now, Purity Ring – , Swans – The Seer

“Friends in Brooklyn”

Albums that I think benefit  a bit too much from hipster cred:

• Scott Walker – love the guy, but this record needs more of him punching meat or something, methinks…
• Liars – record good, live show terrible…
• Lower Dens – umm, ok….
• The Walkmen – I thought that, like the product with their name, they went by the wayside…guess there will always be a home for them across the East River, when they’re called the Walkers…
• Ty Segall – I mean, Magnet magazine has three of his records in their top 10…wow!?
• Sleigh Bells – should be spelled “Slay”…
• Japandroids – robots, in their current incarnation, are really quite boring and predictable…

LIVE SHOWS:

• Grizzly Bear (October 4^th, Keller Auditorium)– someone called them the best band of their generation, might agree – great light show, to boot…
• Glen Campbell – (though I saw him at Hollywood Bowl, he did play Arlene Schnitzer – same night I saw Bruce Springsteen) – show me another septuagenarian that can still do what he does – plus, Dawes opened with guests singing songs that Campbell performed on in his heyday as a studio gun-for-hire (Beach Boys lead vocals provided by Courtney Taylor-Taylor)
• All Things Bruce – (November 27^th, Mississippi Studios) – as a precursor to the Boss’ show, local musicians came together to cover him in celebration of local author Peter Ames Carlin’s bio; so many great moments, none better than Corin Tucker’s take on “Because the Night”, or Storm Large’s “Born to Run” with full band (including Steve Berlin – Los Lobos, producer extraordinaire – playing the part of Clarence Clemons). Super fun!
• David Byrne/St. Vincent – (June 15^th, Arlene Schnitzer Hall) – never had the money to see the Talking Heads when they did tour, so this was my substitute…and it was brilliant, as the two talents complemented each other so well.
• M. Ward – (September 20^th, The Aladdin) – arguably the sweetest guitar player alive returned home (to his expectant wife, in audience) to make sonic wizardry look effortless.
• Brian Jonestown Massacre (May 19^th, Wonder Ballroom) – though notorious for legendary naughtiness, Mr. Newcombe and company showed off why so many consider him, and them, to be borderline legends.
• Dirty Projectors (July 25^th, Crystal Ballroom) –Dave Longstreth seemed determined to return the energy he borrowed from Portland when he began the DP’s while crashing with his brother, a Reed College student – an amazing show which included, supposedly, the only 3^rd encore of their tour
• Destroyer (June 4^th, The Aladdin) – Dan Bejar played all the “hits”, seemingly drawing from all over his now burgeoning catalog from just one of his bands.
• First Aid Kit (April 12^th, Wonder Ballroom) – The Swedish sister act created some vocal magic for an incredibly enthusiastic crowd, it’s third visit in a year to a place they seem to consider a home away from home.
• Jeff Mangum (April 8^th,, Crystal Ballroom) – The reclusive frontman for legendary Neutral Milk Hotel turned on the charm, as well as the tunes, as – armed only with his guitar on the expansive Crystal stage – he zoomed through one fan favorite after another, eventually accompanied by members of Elf Power on a handful of songs that showcased his talent for complex arrangements
• Sharon Van Etten/War on Drugs (March 23^rd,, Aladdin Theater) – A great double-bill (something which seems to be rarer and rarer), Van Etten followed up a solid set from Philadelphia’s War on Drugs with a dynamic set of her own, her powerful voice and haunting lyrics framed perfectly by a talented band which included Portland’s Heather Broderick (Horsefeathers).

Some legendary musicians rest on their laurels, and hang up the idea of touring for good. Others hold out for years, relenting eventually for an album and tours of orchestra halls and arenas, commanding huge ticket prices to pay for their retirement. And then there is Jonathan Richman. With at least twenty-five albums under his belt, and hardly a hiatus in his regular touring schedule since his early ’70s punk days with The Modern Lovers, the man is in a category to himself. He favors small, intimate venues to connect with his audiences, and asks for very little in return. Ten bucks, to be exact, for the three-day run in Portland. His rabid fans greeted the announcement with a quick run on advance tickets–in less than twenty-four hours, all shows were sold out, leaving me and a festive mass to line up early for the few remaining inches of floor space in the divish bar called The Know. One woman arrived black Friday-style at 4:30, almost five hours before the music was to begin, and later had to scramble outside with her dinner when a haphazard line began to form.

Richman greeted the sardine-packed floor with his trademark goofy grin. He stood inches from the crowd, holding his guitar above the front-row heads to demonstrate his flamenco-style strumming, calling out chords and explaining his songs to the audience. This was helpful, since many were in Spanish or French, and all were sentimental or goofy or a characteristic combination of both. He returned many times to the vagaries of love, an enduring and endearing theme for the sixty-something man. He broke into a heartfelt ode to Dutch painter Vermeer, at least the third song I’ve heard him dedicate to a visual artist (most famously, his defense of Pablo Picasso, who apparently was “never called an asshole”). When the show ended abruptly after an hour, with no obligatory returns for energetic calls to encore, many in the crowd left shaking their heads. At least they were smiling, probably in wonder about such an enigmatic but entertaining performer.

The liner notes on one of Richman’s albums describe the man and his music as inducing a certain nostalgia for a time that never existed. This always struck me as a comment on not only his choice of lyrical subjects, from abominable snowmen to a “lonely financial zone,” but also on his own anachronistic place in music. Ever since he abandoned his Velvet Underground-inspired roots with The Modern Lovers, his music has never seemed to fit the times. If he is ever to be taken at face value, in a live version of “Bermuda” he explained that a group he saw on the island revealed to him how tight and “snotty” his own band was at the time. After this, it seems, he strove to abandon the apathetic pretense, and has since filled his music with striking sentimentality and random observations on life. This approach didn’t fit the punk scene of the time, and was still counter to the culture the last time I saw him, in a sparse crowd deep in the post-grunge burnout district of mid-90s Portland. In the past decade, Richman has been greeted with attention, partly from his appearance in movies like There’s Something About Mary. Looking around at today’s ardent crowd, it struck me that perhaps in his late age, he has found in Millenials an audience who can understand him. With a dose of ironic wit and a hearty bit of sincerity on his stripy-shirted sleeve, perhaps now he has found his people.

David Byrne, accompanied by St. Vincent,
re-establish music as art

Usually the mention of choreography isn’t what makes something a “must-see” in regards to live music.

However, certain artists and their music lend themselves to larger-than-life spectacle – case in point being David Byrne. On tour with singer/guitarist Annie Clark (ne, St. Vincent), the two mesmerized their sold-out Arlene Schnitzer Hall audience with music from their recent collaboration, Love This Giant, while mixing in a handful of Talking Heads classics, as well as material from Ms. Clark’s 3-album catalog.

The music – and musicianship – was stellar…the marquee artists supported by a 10 piece orchestra (including, at any given time, trumpets, trombones, flugelhorns, flutes, french horns…). This helped take the solid studio-craft of Love This Giant to a superior level – making one feel that the record was simply an excuse to get incredible musicians together to wow audiences live. And it worked, in spades.

Starting with punchy and solid new track “Who”, it was apparent immediately that not only could these folks PLAY their instruments, but that the audience was in for a treat of bodies synchronized in an organized – if not tongue-in-cheek – manner. The musicians were clearly having fun, while bringing a sort-of “Bourbon Street-meets-the-Brooklyn-Bridge” cultural framework to the songs.

But this was no gimmick. The brass and woodwinds not only accentuated the craft of the new material, but fleshed out everything from St. Vincent tunes (like their stunning take on “The Party”, which I suspect never sounded better) to some Byrne solo work (“Strange Overtones”, from a recent collaboration with Brian Eno) to – OF COURSE! – some Talking Heads classics (“This Must Be the Place”, “Road to Nowhere” and – particularly – “Burning Down the House” would sound flat after this line-up’s renditions). But perhaps the strangest, and most subtle, sonic beneficiary was a piece performed for the band’s third encore, “Open the Kingdom” (which, according to Byrne, hadn’t been performed until this evening); it’s a composition by Philip Glass that Byrne – at Glass’ request – contributed vocals/lyrics to. Simply stunning, if not an abrupt, change in direction.

I’d like to think that in an age of homogenization, this was their special nod to Portland. Ms. Clark has been in a couple of skits on Portlandia (modeling police “fashion”, and as a cop), and Mr. Byrne has been in town to promote his literary craft, as is the case this time through.

Unfortunately, I am not part of the other sold-out audience Mr. Byrne will see in Portland this week; he’ll discuss his new book, How Music Works, with Portland’s contribution to music/performance art, Carrie Brownstein (Sleater-Kinney, Portlandia) tonight at the Baghdad Theater.

Menomena and The Helio Sequence are contemporaries, and apparently from their recent joint interview for Willamette Week, friends. They rose to predominance in Portland at the beginning of the oughts, becoming the stalwarts of an experimental pop scene. Appropriately enough, they released nearly concurrent albums and launched adjacent tours last month.

Menomena unveiled Moms for MFNW, and the excerpt on display at the Doug Fir KEXP show was impressive. Their first venture without Brent Knopf, Harris and Seims pulled together a five-piece band, with shimmery guitar, eerie synth, and straight-forward piano pieces playing off of each other in a startling way. The high energy and light humor on display played contrast to the stark lyrics, which rise to prominence on the album.

Moms covers a lot of ground. “Plumage” is distinctively Menomena–driving, catchy, with lots of musical change-ups (and baritone sax!). But it also introduces a narrative that carries through the album, perhaps best symbolized in the song’s video, ending with Seims and Harris stripped to their underwear. Menomena has often seemed introspective, using first-person lyrics, but here they go much further into the realm of vulnerability. On “Pique”: “…I’m a failure/ Cursed with male genitalia.” Or “Heavy is As Heavy Does”: “Heavy are the branches/ Hanging from my fucked-up family tree.” Yikes. Perhaps no surprise, given the name of the album, much of it seems like a letter to an absent parent figure (or two). Heaviness is a repeated theme, but the album is far more. Down-sliding guitar riffs, crazy sounds out of nowhere–they pulled out some sort of bowed saw in the live show–startling instrumentals contrast with and uplift against the down-beat lyrics. At times the album echoes a bit of Pink Floyd, but the musical experimentation here creates a thing of beauty far more listenable than anything Roger Waters ever dreamed up (really, can anyone listen to The Final Cut without considering self-harm?). But the stylistic variation prevalent in Menomena’s work, including a later bit of spaghetti western and schizophrenic Tom Waits to wrap up the album, make it all a fascinating listen.

Negotiations, The Helio Sequence‘s newest, is a jolt for fans who haven’t been keeping track of the band recently. Their work used to be heavy on the electronics, so much so that in concert it was hard to tell what was pre-recorded and what was live. The last album was an about-face, with a focus on vocals that led them, surprisingly, to Bob Dylan. This time around there is not much trace of the Dylan, but vocals are still upfront–opener “One More Time” is a lullaby, with gentle instrumentals that fall to the side. “October” and “Downward Spiral” are lofty, with ethereal guitar and vocals rising above, like later U2 over a packed arena. Later songs, like “Harvester of Souls” and “Open Letter” are more down to earth, pensive, and the closer “Negotiations” is a nice summary. But at several points in the album I am brought back to a deep, dark place in my soul, an impression of similarity with a band whose name I don’t want to mention in this sentence.* I really want to like this album, and maybe it’s just me, but the association is distracting. To be fair, I think I’d have to see this live to see where Helio Sequence is really going with this, to appreciate the effort and artistry in these clearly heartfelt songs.

(*Coldplay)

The xx played a perfect set on Wednesday, July 25, at the Showbox in Seattle, Washington. Having missed them in Portland at least once, I was determined to see them on this mini-US Tour.

The show was obviously meeting a longstanding desire folks have to see this band live, evidenced by the audience filled with more fans than those simply following the hype. The individual standing near me was quick to point out the new album is coming out in September. A couple standing next to me were all over each other for the entire show, exemplifying the statement that the xx make good sex music.

The set included songs from the last album, in addition to about four new songs. Crystallized was slowed down. Everything else was fairly straight-ahead, with Romy (Madley-Croft) jamming some mid-song improvisations, in addition to little nuances here and there. The thing I love about their debut album was apparent in this performance: subtle intensity. Their music is so perfectly simple, minimal, and yet their sound is so compelling and full of energy.

My age (and 80’s rock guitar solo bias) came through while thinking back to their guitar banter. Oliver (Sims) and Romy’s jams seemed stilted and a bit forced. Definitely not a deal breaker as far as my love of this performance. Closing my eyes briefly, the sound never faltered. Watching them though, I certainly wouldn’t mistake them for Rudolf Schenker and Matthias Jabs facing each other with duelling guitars at a Scorpions show.

They played a three song encore. They were gracious throughout the entire set with a little bit of talking by the band members – Sims commenting they’d “be back” soon. I am anxious to hear the final product all cleaned up when the new album comes out on September 11th.

The Dirty Projectors are the new art-pop standard bearers

Do you remember that David Byrne solo record, the one that made you realize “yeah, this guy WAS the Talking Heads”?  The one that made you forget Jerry Harrison, Tina Weymouth and Chris Frantz?

Probably not. Because, over the course of his solo career, Byrne has generated some solid efforts – but nothing approaching what he did with his former band.

If he could have pulled it off, it might sound something like what The Dirty Projectors are doing these days, including what might be the year’s best record, Swing Lo, Magellan. The band showcased the new album, along with a number of songs from 2009’s “breakthrough” Bitte Orca, and a handful of songs from prior albums on July 25^th at Portland’s Crystal Ballroom.

An enthusiastic crowd was provided an amazing show from what is becoming one of the (if not THE) best young bands in terms of taking studio wizardry and replicating (perhaps surpassing it) live. The sound at the Crystal Ballroom (often times a negative) was spot on, and the band seemed to feed off everything (including a hot summer day spent diving into “lackamas creek” [sic]), leading to a surprising (and “pretentious”, Longstreth joked with the crowd) second encore. The special vibe could have also harkened back to Longstreth’s time spent living with his brother Jack in Portland, where he recorded the (defacto) Dirty Projector debut record, The Graceful Fallen Mango.

Longstreth (and company, for the record) is creating music that is Soweto-by-way-of-SOHO. An unapologetic Head’s fan (DP and Byrne collaborated for the stand out “Knotty Pine” on the solid “Dark Was the Night” AIDS benefit compilation), Longstreth continues to channel African sounds and rhythms through eclectic American pop sensibilities. It’s what Paul Simon’s Graceland might have sounded like had it been introduced to NYC’s downtown noise scene from the late 70’s.

So, when Longstreth recently lost Angel Deradoorian (and her angelic voice, no pun intended…), he did what he should have; return to placing himself up front, highlighting his superior songwriting talents, touch upon some of what he’s associated with (female choruses scattered throughout, but not to the the degree of Bitte Orca). Longstreth also hints at Bob Dylan (another acknowledged influence; DP covered Dylan’s “I Dreamed I Saw St. Augustine” for the Levi’s Pioneer project) on songs like the title track. Add to the record’s solid musicianship, and some genuinely comic moments, and you have some of Longstreth’s best work – which is saying a lot, considering he’s in the top five young American songwriters.

It’s interesting that David Byrne is now working with St. Vincent (ne Annie Clark); could this have been influenced by the DP’s, who are Brooklyn contemporaries? The Byrne/St. Vincent single “Who” (off their upcoming album, to be released in September) is very good, and is a positive sign. But then listen to the DP’s horn-inflected “Unto Caesar”, an arguably stronger tune.

So, even with the band’s lineup changes, it should be abundantly clear that Longstreth is in charge (though vocalist/guitarist Amber Hoffman would have no problem surpassing the Tom Tom Club), and hopefully those along for the ride can celebrate being a part of some fantastic records.