Considering that the album sold surprisingly well for such a weird concept, it’s strange that Iggy now finds himself releasing his newest album Apres, which is very much in the same vein, independently with no label support.  First off: who the hell is in a position to tell Iggy Pop what he can and can’t do at this point? And secondly, this album is actually less bizarre than Preliminaires was; ignoring the fact that it’s immediately less surprising because he’s already done it once before, it also happens to be a covers album, and less than half of the songs are in French.  Nope, instead we get crooning versions of American folk classics, The Beatles, jazz standards and….Yoko Ono.  Okay yeah, and there’s also four French songs, but they’re pretty common and recognizable – “Le Vie en Rose”, anyone?

So yes, refusing to release this album is pretty baffling on Virgin EMI’s part, especially because the album is quite good.  It’s quirky and fun despite the fact that most of the songs have a pronounced brood to them, and Iggy’s crooner voice is surprisingly well-developed, a deep baritone that is both totally idiosyncratic and a welcome departure from his usual punkish drawl.  The sound of the album has diminishing returns – most of the songs have the same general dark jazz feel, and it’s a really refreshing sound at first but gets less and less interesting as the album goes on.  Still, Apres is the sound of Iggy Pop doing exactly what he wants to and the fact that he can make a 180 degree switch like this and still retain his characteristic swagger and conviction is a feat to be celebrated.

No matter how much the band claims to abhor happy songs, it’s apparent that they are by no means averse to upbeat tracks at the very least. With a sound quality best described as the vocal urgency of Tokyo Police Club combined with the evocative instrumentals of Funeral-era Arcade Fire, Grouplove succeeds in creating, for the most part, a collection of songs that make a person want to get up, get out, and parade away. The first half of the album, in particular, sees songs that feature swelling choruses (“Itchin’ On A Photograph”), vibrant and varied bass lines (“Lovely Cup”), and a slick rolling lyrical style interrupted by the occasional wail (“Colours”). The tracks may not be happy but they are loud, they are beautiful, and they feel remarkably cathartic.

That being said, the album is not without missteps. Middle track “Slow” lives up to its name, and is wholly inconsistent with the rest of the album. The ethereal quality proves to be a stark change that leaves the track appearing to have been conceived of by a completely different band, and gives the impression of trying too hard to create an alternative sound. Later “Betty’s Bomb Shell” is a much better attempt at a slow interlude for the album, maintaining the sound and style genuinely unique to the band and consistent to the album, but executing them to a lesser extreme.

Given that the band is a relatively new act and, as has been well-documented, were friends first and a musical ensemble second, the oversights are by all means forgivable. From that perspective, Never Trust A Happy Song is everything a fledgling offering should be — a collection beautiful moments and awkward spills that will probably culminate in a smooth first flight. The fact that they sound pretty good in the meantime is just a bonus.

Bethany Cosentino’s voice is mid-pitch comfortable on the ears, even in the longer-than-really-necessary refrains in songs like Why I Cry. The title track opens brightly, moving along and introducing Cosentino’s followup album to 2010’s Crazy For You by declaring California, specifically Los Angeles we presume, is the center of the known universe. I’ve lived there and it’s an alright place, but I didn’t write any songs about it. Still, the group’s happiness about where they are comes through full-throatedly and its an infectious sentiment. Of the thirteen tracks, they could have left off a couple fillers: Last Year is appropriately titled and Do You Love Me Like You Used To tries to be a sentimental look at relationship, but ends up just whining a bit too much.

Cosentino and partner Bobb Bruno have a Spectresque girl-group sound, which shines with producer Jon Brion’s hand mixing lo-fi basslines and rhythmic percussion. Better Girl and Let’s Go Home are the best examples of the evolving “west coast” sound. Both songs speak to the yearning to have everything be the way it once was without being maudlin or syrupy and are two outstanding examples of Best Coast’s evolution.

Dreaming My Life Away slows the tempo and has a crystalline acoustical track backed by some nice orchestral work. Not a song to drift off to sleep to, but one to listen closely to and reflect on where the hell your life is going. My Life has similar inspirations, but is much more up tempo with a pretty catchy tune to go along.

If  Crazy For You  was more about a girl alone in her room writing scraps in her diary about the boys she liked and wondering if she was pretty enough, this is probably that same girl a few years and heartbreaks later, still writing in her diary but maybe not letting us see every entry.  There is still hope, apparently, for love to find her and for life to turn out OK. We may have to wait for the next album to find out but in the meantime, this will tide us over quite well.

The album moves along much like a novel, pushing forward with increasing drama and complexity. The melodically-light “Cardiff Giant” (the lyrics, including “I often wonder if I’ve already died,” remain largely morose) transforms unexpectedly into a chaotic crossroads, a shouted soliloquy joining the tuneful chorus. Like an artist mixing metals, mewithoutYou combines different vocal styles—including guest appearances from Paramore’s Hayley Williams–to create intricate, layered pieces, like the choral mastery of the final track, “All Circles.”

“Ten Stories” starts off strong, with a clear theme and a cohesive yet evolving song sequence. But like many narratives, the album lags towards the middle. Weiss pulls back vocally in tracks like “Elephant in the Dock” and “Nine Stories,” his monotone and a steady drum beat marking them as a sort of “falling action.” Though less bombastic than the drum-heavy and Williams-featuring “Fox’s Dream of the Log Flume,” the songs hold their own acclaim in their effortlessness.

The real journey lies within the music itself, within mewithoutYou’s progression into a confident, versatile musical force. The traveling circus ensures a common focus for “Ten Stories,” while giving the band enough room to show their stuff. And show they do. “Ten Stories” delights the listener as a more dimensional and complex record that equally showcases the post-hardcore techniques they’ve been perfecting for the past decade and the newer skills they’ve developed along the journey. If it took a traveling circus’ truck crashing and burning to bring mewithoutYou to this accomplished denouement, well, then it was a worthy sacrifice.

In the opening riffs of “Mainline,” it is perhaps convincing that these punk rockers from Gainesville, Florida, haven’t lost a step; Hot Water Music’s trademark tumbling, spritzy rock sound that made them so appealing to the 90s post-hardcore, punk rock scene shines bright from the get-go. Unfortunately, a thorough run through the album exposes a gradual descent with each song becoming increasingly more predictable and similarly prosaic as the last. By the time “Drown In It” comes along, it is clear that a spark is lacking in the 2012 version of Hot Water Music. <

Chuck Ragan's voice, which has always been deeper and raspier than vocalist Chris Wollard's, is now clearly more raspy and at times a bit strained. “Drag my body” is unconvincing in it's attempt to display the band's once powerful and aggressive approach and falls short in providing the complex rhythms that at a time drove the majority of HWM's songs. A small glimmer of hope emerges with the album's title track, which seems to hark back to the bands' original sound. Scrapping the punk-ballads for a song, the band makes a successful attempt to re-create what they have always done best: short, concise, crowd rousing numbers that get to the point and pack a punch.

The sound of a band that's built on high powered, intense rhythms can unfortunately- due to the conflux of time; lose steam over the years. Having noted that, Exister is hit and miss. In some songs, there is a forced sense of urgency, yet on other tracks, the band cruises through flawlessly with circa 2000 HWM energy. For dedicated HWM fans, Exister is worth checking out. The album, albeit lackluster at times, has something to say: these musicians have no intention of backing down.

Mr. Waterhouse is a musical retroactivist from sunny California who makes music evoking that innocent time, although evoke is perhaps too subtle a word for what’s going on here; more accurately: M. Ward evokes, Mr. Waterhouse recreates. The songs on TAG swing mightily; they’re replete with saxes and pianos and backup singers, and Mr. Waterhouse alternately howls and croons his way through them with aplomb.

The first track, “Say I Wanna Know,” borrows its intro from Van Morrison’s “Moondance” (a move I heartily applaud, being a huge supporter of blatant musical appropriation) and is probably one of the catchier tunes on the album. The other songs are fine as well: they’re mostly in minor keys, mostly bluesy, and generally soulful in a non-threatening manner, although none of them distinguish themselves as singular entities all that successfully, do they, Roberta?

This is where I start to feel like a grump. Maybe it’s just me, but what is the point of this album existing? It’s obvious that Mr. Waterhouse adores pre-Beatles American R & B and draws great inspiration from it, but his making this album could be compared to a painter diligently recreating Hopper’s Nighthawks, or Gus Van Sant remaking Psycho. The analogy fails because Mr. Waterhouse is writing his own material instead of merely covering Otis Rush songs, but perhaps he should have simply done so and made it easier for himself. This is not music that challenges the listener. The Black Keys draw inspiration from a similar era but are careful to subtly meld the old with the new in ways that move the listener into the future without alienating them; TAG is, comparatively, a tractor beam of reaction.

I remind you that I have always said if you’re going to operate within a genre and refuse to innovate, you better make damn sure you’re doing it better than anyone else, and that’s not going on here. Two reasons people were drawn to Amy Winehouse (a name I’m sure Mr. Waterhouse is sick of hearing) were her peerless singing and a handful of spectacular songs; that’s not happening on TAG. I suspect Mr. Waterhouse is holding back for the sake of commercial appeal but his voice sometimes seems curiously restrained; he’s a gifted singer and we would all benefit from more emotional highs in his performances even at the loss of some control.

The songs here are accomplished but there are no standout tracks that demand repeated individual listening. It’s all a little too safe and too Starbucks. Your parents will love it.

I’m not confident I could pick one of Mr. Waterhouse’s songs out of a lineup if it was standing there with a bunch of other period R & B songs, and I suppose that’s something, but I’m not a music historian. I can’t tell the fakes from the real thing well enough to make any money at it. And if the fake is indistinguishable from the real, then who cares, anyway? One Mona Lisa is as good as another from ten feet away. On the other hand, I’m not sure if typing the entirety of Coriolanus into Microsoft word makes you an artist. It does make for good entertainment, though. I’m sending Mr. Waterhouse a book about the Kennedy assassination. Time’s not all gone, Mr. Waterhouse. There are at least fifty more years coming at you, I promise, during which time the American Dream of a half-century ago will become the American Nightmare of today. At least you have the Beatles to look forward to.

Thanks to the musicianship of both members of Beach House, Bloom is an amazingly consistent album. Victoria Legrand’s vocals remain fairly subdued, mixed low so as not to over power any of the instrumenation and music that Alex Scally has crafted. Wild and The Hours are wonderful examples of the build up pay off that Legrand and Scally seem to pull off. Almost ethereal intros that culminate with the addiditon of the reverbed vocal lines.

The album makes use of both electronic insutrments, as well as more conventional sounds. There seems to be a good balance between the two so that it never feels that out of place when the focus shifts from one song to the next. The song Lazuli lets the music be carried by an arpeggiating synth sound while other sounds and effects are added. Troublemaker, however relies on great guitar work and solid percussion to accomplish the same thing. The differences in the sounds of these songs still works completely in the context of the piece as a whole.

Bloom could almost be mistaken for a lullaby. One that stretches over the course of ten songs. There is an almost hypnotic quality that pulls the listener in and just soothes them. It seems fitting that the final song Irene fades away, leaving about five minutes of silence after the music ends. This is not an album that will fire up the blood and set the heart pounding. This is an album that can be put on and let settle into the background.

Some albums, such as In Utero, grab your attention from the get-go and each track draws you unto itself. ‘Landmark’ doesn’t have the same magnetic pull, but the musicality of the effort shows through when the listener consciously opens up to the experience.

Taken as a whole, my own favorite moment is the progression from ‘So Much Better When You’re Gone‘ through ‘Landmark‘, the title track. It feels like a structural shift catalyzed by emotional evolution, and the title track rockets forth from the sweet solemnity of ‘So Much Better‘ with a retro intensity. The buildup to it is worth the investment of time, because each of the first five tracks are engaging in their own right.

An interesting feature of this album is the harmonic aspect of the songwriting. The group seems less focused on utilizing chord progressions and cyclical harmonies and have become much more focused on riff-writing. This is reflected in the stylization, which seems to draw from sources as differing as Smog and post-punk/new wave. There would also appear to be essence of Velvet Underground in the mix.

It would seem to stand to reason that this apparent grasp of the mechanics of chord progression and harmonic flow are the keys to understanding the melodic sensibility of this group. This impression becomes ever-more pronounced when there are harmonies backing the melodic line. Check out the last track, ‘Will You Forget Me‘ with it’s folkey, arpeggiated opening followed by a sing-along that fades out on itself. You might find yourself gazing out the window after the track finishes, still singing the refrain.

Before the album was officially released, the music video for “Rize of the Fenix” was leaked onto Russian Youtube. The band’s response was to offer the music video for free to the US and Canada, then they posted the entire album on their Soundcloud account. The album is still there, completely free to anyone who wants to listen.

The album is a mix of songs and skits, although every song by Tenacious D can be considered a skit on its own. Black is at his over-the-top best here, he seems to emulate a different singing style in each song. His most straightforward delivery is in the song “They Fucked Our Asses”, the lyrics of the track are so ridiculous that Black doesn’t need to do anything extra to complete it.

TD aren’t afraid to make fun of themselves, in the title track Black describes their last album as a “failure and an embarrassment”. Later on Black pays his respects to the who make concerts happen. The song “Roadie” is all about a roadie getting a blowjob and crying when the rock stars take the stage.

There are some surprises on the album, anyone used to the acoustic rock style of TD will laugh at the 80s parody song “To Be The Best”. The story of Jack Black and Kyle Gass is related in “The Ballad of Hollywood Jack and Rage Kage”; here we learn that after “The Pick of Destiny” bombed at the box office, Black ‘sold-out’ and made millions in Hollywood, while Gass was left in the dumps with nothing. They eventually reconcile and record this album.

Musically the songs are well constructed and do not sound like a standup comedian with a guitar. TD has been touring, and recorded this album, with a full band and the results are great. If you aren’t paying attention it is easy to forget that this is a comedy album and not a proper release by an serious artist.

Grouper’s Violet Replacement consists of two long ambient songs entitled “Rolling Gate” and “Sleep.” The first is 32 minutes long and the second is 51 minutes long. I mention the lengths because I want you to get a sense of the scale of this thing. It’s immense. There is plenty of time in this record for you to be lulled into a sense of eternity. There are no drums and few discernible vocals on this record – these are instrumental drone-base pieces in which tape loops and Wurlitzers create a beautiful and formidable ambient universe, all of it captured on film. Life here moves slowly. The wind howls constantly and the surf beats the sand.

This is a world of half-imagined beasts and incomprehensible natural forces. What change happens in the pieces is stretched out over their lengths so that it approximates geological processes. There are highs and lows in these pieces but they are the highs and lows of mountain ranges, not human emotions. Ascribing human qualities to this music is only so much pathetic fallacy, isn’t it?

Liz Harris, who is the sole member of Grouper, explored ambient music in her previous recordings but not to this degree, as far as I am aware. Violet Replacement is the teleological endpoint toward which I suspect Ms. Harris has been headed since birth. I have no idea what she’ll do next but I hope more ambient music of this scale and quality is in the works.

Having demonstrated she can navigate to infinity and beyond, she can pretty much do whatever she wants, can’t she? Unlike poor Ke$ha, who can only do what she must. The difference is everything.