The Apples in Stereo: New Magnetic Wonder (Yep Roc, 2007).
“Uh oh uh oh, uh oh uh oh, turn up your ster-e-o-o, uh oh uh oh, uh oh uh oh, I feel electric when the meter starts to glow,” Robert Schneider belts out in “Can You Feel It,” the opening track on this, his latest a

Bright Eyes: Cassadaga (Saddle Creek, 2007).
Far from being the child prodigy rock crits hailed him as only five years ago – he did turn 27 on February 15! – Conor Oberst was more a spoiled brat who couldn’t stop whining long enough to allow himself a chance to transcend the pain that was in his soul. That was then, this is now. Following up on 2005’s pleasantly surprising I’m Wide Awake, And It’s Morning, Cassadaga is his best and most clearly defined effort to date. And if the album title’s reference to a spiritualist community in Florida has you concerned, don’t be. Really, did every one get Jim Morrison’s psychedelic rantings in the ‘60s? Unlike Morrison or Ryan Adams, who still hasn’t shit but refuses to get off the pot, Oberst at least goes somewhere with his self-indulgence. The promise everyone saw in 2002 finally gets delivered here. Gone is Emmylou Harris, replaced by an assortment of mostly anonymous harmony singers (the exception being Gillian Welch on “Classic Cars”), which is probably a good thing; Oberst never did like sharing the spotlight. He still isn’t Dyan incarnate, but, given the current crop of indie frontrunners, he does more with his talent than most. A minus
brakesbrakesbrakes: The Beatific Visions (Rough Trade, 2007).
The album title denotes innocence, which I suppose is their way of being ironic. Like most English auteurs who grew up on the British new wave explosion of the ‘80s, but

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah: Some Loud Thunder (Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, 2007).
Having released the indie sensation of 2005, it stood to reason that Part Deux would be a disappointment, right? Wrong. Notwithstanding the annoying distortion that plagues the title track – no Robert it isn’t a cracked ceramic cartridge sound; more a saturated tape player sound, which, knowing their love affair with lo-fi, makes more sense – this actually is a more even album than version one. My favorite songs are “Satan Said Dance” and “Underwater (You and Me)”, the former proof that Alec Ounsworth really does have a sense of humor, the latter that he has the instinct and ear for the hit single that one of these days this band will score. Don’t believe the hype from the indie naysayers. Listen for yourself. A minus
No comments:
Post a Comment