Who's blazing a flare-trail across the face of music's electronic future, then? Who's keeping the dream of hard-patched classicism after Jim O'Rourke's overseas model alive? Few, but Cornel Wilzcek is the hen's-tooth goods, a bone-fide local Reanimator who, as Qua, makes music that sounds and is performed inconceivably - a new, heavy kind of listen that RMIT would call 'experiential'; learned, clear-eyed and shot-through with winning feelings of discovery.
It's hard to imagine a tougher task than capturing Hot Little Hands on disk. Their sound ranges so much: one minute it's swimming with swampy cymbally synth, the next trumpets are blaring and you're at the fair. You could almost argue that if there was a signature HLH moment, it would be the sudden, and wonderfully nonsensical shifts in tone, pace, tempo, everything.
The trademark sound of this New York two-piece (three-piece in live shows, however) shines through yet again on the act’s third album, aptly titled LP3. Opening with the X-Files-like Shiller, the album is set apart from the previous two long players with its at times chilling sound, but don’t fret - the bouncy squeals we all love in Ratatat’s music still feature prominently throughout the record.
The third compilation from Parisian purveyors of ‘lectro dance mash and gravy, Ed Banger Records, is out now, proving that Busy P and his gang can still throw thrash metal, rap, and pop through the electro blender and deliver it loud and with lots of treble. This is the way the best days of our lives are lived.
Recent outbreaks of Internet-slaves playing bongos, all hyphy "like Fela" reeks of moneyed putrefaction - at best reminding of C. Thomas Howell's character in Soul Man, who overdoses on tanning pills in an effort to 'get down' with his college basketball team. It's imperative Alegranza - the debut record from Barcelona's Pablo Diaz-Reix, aka El Guincho -is not confused with this vapid trend.
So far as children and Dan Deacon are concerned, music exists primarily to be enjoyed, and enjoyment is directly proportional to a listener's involvement. Whereas most major indie acts attempt 'connection' via excessive personal detailing and a general non-listening attitude, this Baltimore party-in-a-man does it the old-fashioned way - less talk, more action - with unflinching concentration on arresting, fun sounds and a now-famous participatory, hipster-destroying live show.
I've got good news and bad news.
The bad news: now that fashionable trendy kids in trenchcoats have appropriated the post-punk misery of depressed, social misfits like Joy Division, the next step is appropriating the impassioned political rhetoric of Wire and The Fall... without the intelligence. 'Cuz while These New Puritans sound really mad about something on their debut Beat Pyramid, really? Their cryptic lyrics say nothin'.
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