Paste Magazine June/July 2010 : Page 86
THE BLACK KEYS TOKYO POLICE CLUB PHOSPHORESCENT BAND OF HORSES N E W M U S I C THE BLACK KEYS Brothers NONESUCH RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW Music shines, lyrics whine Yes, DangerMouse pro-duced a track (“Tighten Up”) for this blues-rock duo on its sixth album. But the name to note in the credits is mixerTchad Blake, who gives the songs a swampy texture that nevertheless carves out individual space for each instrument. Guitarist Dan Auerbach and drum-mer Patrick Carney swing more loosely than usual, too, particularly on the Bo Diddley-gone-glam stomp “Howlin’ For You.” “The Only One” incorporates droning organ chords to nice effect. The problem is the songs. Auerbach can sing with feeling (see the cover of Jerry Butler’s “Never Gonna Give You Up,” which features vocals reminiscent of vintage Todd Rundgren), but his lyrics are so banal they hardly seem worth the trouble. Like on “Too Afraid to Love You,” to pick just one example: “I can’t afford to lose one more teardrop from my eye.” Come on. These guys rock hard, but they need to lose the high school poetry. MICHAELANGELOMATOS TOKYO POLICE CLUB Champ MOM & POP RELEASE DATE: JUNE 8 A winning do-over The blog-bait now known as Tokyo Police Club used to be called Suburbia, a more honest (if inelegant) reflection of their in-genuous post-punk/emo blend. The band's 2006 breakout EP, A Lesson in Crime, distilled twitchy synths and guitars into two-minute blasts of hormones and naiveté, but on 2008 LP Elephant Shell, they handcuffed themselves by aiming for the kind of layered, 6.5 measured album favored by their new label, Saddle Creek—a wannabe grownup album from a group that thrived on juvenilia. Their sopho-more LP, the optimisti-cally titled Champ, opens promisingly with the lean, mean “Favorite Food," on which blown-out fuzz and shrilling organs snowball into an incandescent rock jitter, as DaveMonks’ warm, approachable voice spins out a self-conscious suburban fantasy of bandaged knees and melting sugar. He sounds a bit like Dan Bejar’s little brother, especially over the theatrical start-stop riffs of “Favorite Color.” “It’s good to be back,” Monks sighs on “Break-neck Speed,” as Tokyo Police Club get back to doing their favorite thing: Playing their hearts out, two or three minutes at a time. BRIAN HOWE 7.7 PHOSPHORESCENT Here’s to Taking It Easy DEAD OCEANS RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW On the road again Last year, Phosphores-cent braintrustMat-thew Houck released a Willie Nelson tribute album featuring eleven well-chosen covers that avoided all the obvious hits and sentiments. He and his honkytonk band have obviously learned from that endeavor: The songs on this gorgeously sadsack follow-up Here’s to Taking It Easy evoke lost days and lonely nights with keen observations and road-weary melodies. “Baby, all these cities, ain’t they all startin’ to look all the same?” Houck laments on the rip-roaring opener “It’s Hard to Be Humble (When You’re from Alabama),” as a horn section roars ahead with trucker’s speed. All of Houck’s southern eccen-tricities remain gloriously intact, from his eloquent-ly hangdog vocals to his minimalist songwriting on “Hej, Me I’m Light.” Best of all is “The Mermaid Parade,” an ode to a bicoastal break-up that’ll have you shedding a tear in your PBR. STEPHEN M. DEUSNER 8.9 finite Arms ROWN RECORDS/FAT POSSUM/COLUMBIA LEASE DATE: OUT NOW BAND OF HORSES he Lowcountry's finest do it again W hile ruminating on hisSub Pop days during a 2008 interview, former label head BrucePavitt was asked who his favorite current band on the roster was. “Band of Horses,” was his surprising answer. “Those guys are doing some really amazing things.” Considering Pavitt can now be found hang-ing with shamans in the jungles of South America, it was hard to tell if he was being completely serious. But let’s just say that the man credited with discovering Nirvana was, intentionally or not, on to something. More muscular thanThe Avett Brothers or Iron & Wine, less concerned with experi-mentation than Wilco, and free of the folk prison occupied by Fleet Foxes, Band of Horses—now recording, indirectly, forColum-bia through their own Brown Records—might be the best traditional rock band inAmerica not namedMy Morning Jacket.This is, to put it mildly, shocking. On Infinite Arms, Frontman Ben Bridwell leads the Horses a little further out of Neil Young’s backyard.After lead track “Factory” enters the world amid a fanfare of faux strings, “Compliments” harkens back to the band's wheelhouse with Bridwell shaking his tattooed forearms at the sky, questioning the existence of God in the air, righteous power chords at his side. But the crew relies less on guitar bom-bast this time out. Seemingly able to kick out a chug-a-lug stomper with absolute ease at this point, the best moments on Infinite Arms center around Bridwell’s grow-ing confidence in the his deadliest weapon: his voice. “On My Way Back Home” pushes his upper register to the breaking point over a slowly growing drumbeat, “Evening Kitchen” revels in the kind of man-on-man, nearly CSN&Y-grade harmonies that send a shiver down your back (and your finger scrambling for the “repeat” button) and album-apex “Older” sounds warm and worn-in, like some porch-swing hymn passed down through the generations of the band's South Carolina roots. After three albums, Band of Horses finally sound comfortable being what they are: A rock band. A really fucking good rock band. Somewhere in the deepest jungles of Peru, Bruce Pavitt is smiling. BART BLASENGAME 8.9 86 PASTEMAGAZINE.COM JUNE | JULY 2010
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