Jason Boxer

Good grief this band is hard to look up on the internet. Apparently a lot of things out there like to be number one. Obvious Highlander quote aside, I stumbled across this band and their self-titled debut LP through the typical Bandcamp digging and am happily content. The Number Ones is a Dublin band made of members of other bands from the area. Europe seems to have a lot of musical incest going on these days. Completely acceptable.

This is POWER POP in its purest form. The dirty guitars, dancing bass lines, and crashing cymbals follow a lovable format to whip you back to the late 70s where bands like The Buzzcocks left your appetite fulfilled. I would not be surprised if this album were recorded all in one take, straight through. Despite the rawness of the sound, the band is comfortably tight and well-rehearsed. The lyrics are juvenile in nature. If you are currently a teenager, have ever been a teenager in the past, or intend on being one in the future, these lyrics are not going to change your life.

This album is less than twenty minutes long. A bit unsettling, as it is quite short for a full length release. This brand of music does not demand the longest album lengths, but The Number Ones definitely push it here. All songs are under three minutes, and most are even under two. Together, the ten tracks spell out innocent summer fun. I do not want to mess with specific decimal scores on this one. Solid three and a half stars! Seven outta ten! I really want to hear this band develop in the future. Maybe focus on more mature lyrics and their own sound while sticking to their roots. The band seems like they are really having fun with this album. I really enjoy “Heartsmash” and “Sixteen”. “Girl” is also a solid track.

I used to have a noise rock themed radio show in college. It all began when I picked up a copy of Whip It On, the debut EP from The Raveonettes, at a Princeton record store. It honestly blew my mind. The entire EP was written in Bb minor, and drenched in sweet, delicious fuzz. I kept the CD in my car for months. Numerous years and albums later, Danish band, The Raveonettes, have dropped their newest album out of seemingly nowhere. Pe’ahi is an album as powerful as it is pleasant to listen to.

The Raveonettes have had a lot of time to develop their sound over the years. They started as a noise rock band, moved to a 60s rock style, and eventually to the realm of dream pop. This album combines all of the band’s past styles, blending them into one unique voice they can call their own. It is almost a greatest hits album, but with all new material. First of all, the album is wet with reverb, producing a very relaxed feel. The guitars find a proper balance between soothing and jarring. There is a beauty in the chaos that is heavily distorted guitars. A lot of the drum tracks on the album have a hip hop or trip hop feel to them. Some tracks sneak in a little slide guitar and harp, but they are not misused or out of place whatsoever. The dual vocals of Sune Rose Wagner and Sharin Foo shine just as much as when they sing alone.

The Raveonettes never wrote happy songs about dancing in a field of flowers, and they are not about to start. There has always been a dark twist to lyrics from this band, even when exploring topics that should be positive. Lyrical themes cover topics such as Wagner’s difficult relationship with his father, the recent passing of aforementioned father, Wagner’s near drowning experience, and general infidelity. Pe’ahi, the album title, is a popular surfing spot in Maui, Hawaii. The album art features a small, vertical switchblade on a light cyan background. The symbolism here is obvious, and the minimalistic approach of the album art is very much appropriate. Every track shines in its own way on this album but check out “Killer in the Streets” and the first track “Endless Sleeper.” I also find “Sisters” to be an artistically beautiful song.

Stellar news! This town IS big enough for two noisy-angry Copenhagen bands on Matador Records. We are now introduced to Lower, and their album, Seek Warmer Climes. Contrasted with the hardcore punk influence of Iceage- a local contemporary- Lower brings a heavy early goth/post-punk feel. This is Lower’s first full-length, and fortunately for them, it’s on a pretty solid record label.

Lower’s sound leads me to believe that they performed a séance to channel post-punk band Bauhaus when they simply could have phoned the band since all of its members are still alive. From this, we got deep, introspective, free form post-punk glory but without the horrible gated snare drum sound that plagued so many bands from the 1980s. The drums, in fact, are quite lovely if I might add. Very tom heavy, but not in the cheesy tribal way that dime-a-dozen indie pop bands do it. The floor tom gets plenty of air time here. It feels like a heartbeat, purposefully faster than a human heartbeat, leaving you struggling to keep up. The bass guitar is reminiscent of a classic low end sound, a bass guitar with a humbucking neck pickup played with a pick near the bridge. This tried and true method gives a heavy, chunky bass tone that has no problem cutting through the mix. The guitar is as much a forefront instrument as the drums. But this isn’t a guitar-centered band whatsoever. The guitar is played harshly, but the tone is not. It comes off jangly, lightly distorted, with a hint of chorus shimmer. The guitarist plays a Jazzmaster, objectively the best guitar in existence (according to me). Vocals here are your typical European post-punk fare, where the vocalist sounds like he should be yelling at you, but isn’t. It fits in well with the music. It is dark, but hopeful, despite being pessimistic.

The cover art features a photograph of a fellow, clad completely in white, who appears to have just fallen in some red dirt, possibly on Tatooine. He wears a painful demeanor on his face, as if he were a young lad who had just dropped his ice cream. I believe it speaks well to the overall tone of the album. In an interview with Pitchfork, vocalist Adrian Toubro describes his influences from boredom in life, to famous poets and novelists. One of the songs describes his time spent in Africa, disillusioned, and almost kidnapped in the Tanzanian city of Dar es Salaam.

I enjoy most of the songs on this album. It can drag a bit. Might be a lot to chew all at once for some. This isn’t the most accessible music in the world, but if you enjoy it then to hell with everyone else. The album clocks in a tad under 35 minutes. Any longer and it would have watered down the message. Check out “Soft Option”, a gem packed into the B-Side of the record and “Another Life”, the first song on the album.

Seek Warmer Climes is best enjoyed live and in person. Not that I would know, just seems like they’d be a damn fine live band. I just looked up their USA tour dates. They played in Philly a few months ago. Bollocks…

To succinctly review Curtis Harding’s debut solo album would be to simply reiterate the album title. This album truly is Soul Power. This album uses its long arms to reach out to influences such as soul, gospel, blues, Motown, garage rock and even a smidge of disco/funk. Curtis Harding has appeared in the past as a background singer for Cee Lo Green and in the band Night Sun, a collaboration with Black Lips rhythm guitarist, Cole Alexander. In fact, you’ll notice that the song, “I Don’t Wanna Go Home” appears on both this album and the new Black Lips album. They wrote it together, and it is one fine song.

Sonically, this album hits the sweet spot of fidelity. It’s not too lo and no too hi. Hipster Goldilocks would be pleased. Mr. Harding displays a powerful seasoned voice. You can hear the experience in his vocal chords. He’s obviously been doing this for a while. The guitar work is self-aware that the main attraction here is the vocals. The rhythm section is comfortably solid. The drums sound amazing, in fact. The ride cymbal on “Freedom” takes me back to the dry martinis in jazz bars I never actually had. The bass is great as well, keeping in the pocket and tossing in fills whenever it so feels it to be appropriate. Horns and keys also make their appearance to add to an overall thickness to the sound and make you really feel the message urtis Harding is trying to convey to you. Actions speak louder than words, and music speaks even louder than that.

This is not really a genre I dive into often, so I wouldn’t be reviewing this is I didn’t find it to be spectacular. I really enjoy this man’s voice, but more so his songwriting. Every song is a breath of fresh air without being all over the place or inconsistent. The first track, “Next Time,” is reminiscent of Creedence Clearwater Revival, which really brings you in for the ride to come. You really feel motivated to listen to the whole album, and the songs you decide are the best are a matter of personal taste. I personally enjoy “Surf” and the first single from the album “Keep on Shining.” Honestly, if you’re looking for really accessible soul/gospel rock, this is your golden ticket.

Soul Power is best enjoyed on your feet, because groovin’ on ya rump just ain’t as fun.

A lot of bands claim to be “rock and roll” these days, to the point where the phrase is being watered down to simply anyone who picks up the standard rock instrument faire. This being said, The Orwells play rock and roll. They aren’t doing anything groundbreaking or crazy here. Garage rock has been revived plenty of times by now. However, that doesn’t make this album any less enjoyable to listen to. What we have here is a really solid album, albeit not very risk taking.

I’ve seen The Orwells twice in the past few years. First, when they were just a few high schoolers from Chicago opening for FIDLAR. Since then they’ve been on Letterman, Jools Holland, heck I even saw this very album being advertised on YouTube yesterday. Their live act is where they thrive most, driven by a tall pale frontman who shares a namesake with New York’s 52^nd governor and dons long wavy blonde locks that will make your girlfriend jealous. The lead singer channels classic frontmen such as Iggy Pop as he romps his way through the stage and into the crowd. The Orwells have garnered a reputation for causing a bit of ruckus wherever they go and on TV performances. This is (at least, from me) highly welcome. They’re kids. They want to act like rock stars. I fully condone their debauchery.

You’ll mostly find yourself focusing on the guitar and vocals through this album. They’re both equally reverberated and dirty and blend into each nicely. You have gritty growling guitars coming at you, just as you’d expect from a garage rock band. The vocals are very strong on this album. Lead singer, Mario Cuomo, spits out vocals with an uncaring attitude on verses and shows his true power belting out choruses. The rhythm section is bare bones. The drums and bass keep their place silently nested in the back of most songs, holding tempo and the sound together. No one here is really amazing at their instruments, but they play in a genre where virtuosity isn’t demanded. As mentioned before, they aren’t really taking risks here, but it’s still some damn fine punk rock and roll.

Song themes basically cover booze, babes, and detachment from a supposed meaningless world. They just got out of high school, so this album really appeals to one’s inner teenager. The album title, a play on words from the famed Elvis Estate and the album art, a simple suburban home, broadcasts their message quite obviously. One needs to realize that these guys are 20ish years old and they’re just going to “let it burn.” This band has the benefit of starting early. This is their second release after 2012’s “Remember When.” The Orwells still have plenty of time to grow, mature and work on their songwriting and instrumentation. They’re becoming more solid by the day, so keep your eyes on these Chi-Town rockers. I recommend wrapping your ears around “Dirty Sheets” and “Who Needs You,” two standout tracks on the album.

Disgraceland is best enjoyed on a skateboard, provided you can fit those ear buds through your long, greasy hair.

I have a picture I took on my phone of Mac Demarco wearing a bra on his head. A girl threw it on stage when I saw him perform in Philadelphia. He simply smiled and put it on his head, where it stayed for the next two songs. There is a shocking disparity between Mac Demarco’s live shows and his studio recordings. Live, he puts on a crazy show filled with energy, silly jokes, a childish sense of adventure, and his signature gap toothed smile. His studio albums, however, are more laid back and relaxing. There’s a documentary of him on YouTube called “Pepperoni Playboy,” a playful but poignant look into who Mac is, and how the magic happens. He records all of his music in his Brooklyn apartment, a neat little setup located under a bunk bed. Demarco knows what he’s doing and he does it well to craft a fine lo-fi sound.

In less than a quarter second into the album the vocals come in. Most albums start with an instrumental intro. Mac just dives right in singing. He’s got something to say, and he isn’t going to wait to tell you or sugarcoat it any bit. In less than ten seconds into the album his falsetto comes out, reminiscent of a jazzy chamber singer. The whole album has a jazzy feel to it, in addition to the overarching lo-fi psych-guitar pop feel. I’ve read a few attempts to try to come up with a genre for Mac Demarco from “Slacker Rock” to “Jizz Jazz.” I’m not particularly one to genre-pick. I recommend you listen for yourself and try to come up with your own kooky genre name.

Mac is no stranger to guitar pop. His jangly guitars are soothing. He employs 7^th chords into his music to compliment his jazzy voice. Mac Demarco is a phenomenal rhythm guitarist but sadly his guitar can get lost in the mix sometimes. The lead guitar lines are the driving force of the music. The drums are simple, but this is a good thing in this scenario. The minimalist drums keep the tone of the music calm. The bass is simple as well, and fits in perfectly. It sounds as if someone were humming along to the tracks. There are also some keys in the mix on a few songs. They sound very Ariel Pink-esque and show that the artist is expanding his songwriting. Mac sings about the refusal of growing up and “rolling through life / to roll over and die.” He also sings about his girlfriend in a few of the songs. After the last song on the album, there a small period of silence, then you hear Mac come on and say “Hi guys. This is Mac. Thank you for joining me. See you again soon. Buh bye.” I could not think of a better way he could have ended the album.

Salad Days benefits from the relatively new return of vinyl. People are now more often listening to records as a whole instead of just singles. This is good because Salad Days does not really have any standout singles that are begging for FM stardom (if that even exists anymore) but it just sounds so darn fantastic listened to as a whole. This is probably what he was going for, anyway. The album flows as one continuous unit.

This is Mac’s third album after “Rock and Roll Nightclub” and “2.” He has been able to effectively mature as a musician and songwriter without going crazy genre hopping or changing his sound completely. Listening to a new Mac Demarco album feels like seeing someone after summer break in school growing up. They are still the kid you like so much, but a little older, little wiser, and filled with new tricks and tales to tell. My favorite tracks are “Salad Days” and “Picking up the Pieces” but I more seriously recommend the entire album as a whole.

Salad Days is best enjoyed on the porch on a clear summer day, where your only worry in the world is whether or not your cigarette ashes will fall into your Miller High Life.