[ichloemorales]

The following articles are a collection of works that I created for a magazine that I designed and printed for my undergraduate thesis. They are not to be duplicated or otherwise utilized elsewhere, in any form, without prior permission.

Enjoy!

[ichloemorales]

Washed Out : Paracosm (2013)

Every once in a while, an album comes along that changes everything. Released August 7, 2013, Washed Out’s sophomore effort Paracosm is exactly that.

But who is Washed Out? This is the question that inquiring minds will want to know—and should.

American chillwave artist Ernest Greene, better known by his stage name Washed Out, first appeared on the scene in 2009. He has since performed at the 2010 Pitchfork Music Festival, and his song “Feel It All Around” is featured in the opening sequence of the TV series Portlandia.

Paracosm is, in a word, a dream—a hazy, drug-induced dream reminiscent of the Beatles’ “Strawberry Fields Forever” and “Because.” It bathes the senses in a wave of aural ecstasy and taps into the deepest hollows of the listener’s mind. It isn’t the sort of album that one can pick apart and select, from the pieces, which element is most important or most interesting; it is a lyrically and sonorously an organic whole, a conversation between melodies, a complement of rhythms. It is a journey, demanding that the listener lets go of any preconceptions about the destination.

The music unfolds with something evocative of a field beneath a clearing sky after the rain—quiet, reflective. But like a flower in the sunlight, it soon blossoms into something vibrant and alive with “It All Feels Right,” the second track on the album, succeeding the instrumentation of “Entrance.” “It’s getting warmer outside / It all feels right…Sun is coming out now / It all feels right,” Greene reverbs, alluding to, perhaps, a time when darker days prevailed. However, what follows is a complete contradiction, nostalgic undertones painting a picture of rueful reminiscence as the speaker reflects, “Close my eyes, think about the old times / What’s it all about? / The feeling when it all works out.” There is a struggle here, implicated through the teetering between such reflection and a desire to focus on the chance to start anew, torn between what was and what is or could be.

The album’s sixth track, “Great Escape,” rolls into listeners’ heads with a synth-pop backdrop, rounding out the more upbeat tone of the melody. Greene’s dulcet tones, coupled with the undercurrent of textured percussion, make for a tune that is not only catchy, but also enchanting. Fluid and magical, this is, surely, the album’s grooviest moment. In the end, it is a more subdued track that ties everything together, which some listeners might find underwhelming. However, “All Over Now” triumphs not through colorful indulgence, but with a moment of clarity.

From start to finish, Paracosm fails to disappoint. It soundtracks the highs and lows that make life what it is—worth living, despite everything. It is a statement of contentment of things past, present and future. Enjoyably meticulous, Washed Out, through such magical creation, dares his listeners not to sway their frames when tuning in to the talent that pours from this composition.

[ichloemorales]

The Neighbourhood : I Love You. (2013)

What’s unique and novel, yet feels like home? The answer is simple: The Neighbourhood, an American hip-pop band known for its darker sound.

Formed in August 2011, the band comprises vocalist Jesse Rutherford, guitarists Jeremy Freedman and Zach Abels, bassist Mikey Margott and drummer Bryan Sammis. After coming out with two EPs (I’m Sorry… and Thank You), The Neighbourhood released its first full-length album, I love You., on April 23, 2013.

“Sweater Weather” is a dreamy mix of fluid vocals—with the occasional, gravelly undertone—and upbeat drums, embodying an intermingling of romantic and sexually implicit connotations. “She knows what I think about and what I think about / One love, two mouths, one love, one house, no shirt, no blouse,” front man Rutherford coaxes into the listener’s ear, inviting subtle, sensual and intimate imagery into the mind. But toward the end, there is a suggested melancholy that bleeds through the melody, something untouchable just beneath the surface of repeated lyricism, relatable only through the band’s esoteric ability to bend its listeners to the whim of its instrumentation.

There is something ominous about the way “W.D.Y.W.F.M. (What Do You Want From Me)?” slides into play, its introduction reminiscent of a march into battle before Rutherford’s delivers his charismatic crooning. “Three days before, she told me that I don’t even try / She’s crazy, though / I guess there’s something wrong inside,” the protagonist professes, questioning his lover’s motives, but ultimately yielding to the juxtaposition of captivation and emotional turmoil with which he is afflicted.

“Female Robbery,” one of the album’s darker pieces, is peppered with paranoia and salted with somber implications—but is nevertheless a gem. Infused with a backdrop of distorted shouts and tragic lyricism, the track ends on a chilling, wickedly jolting final line that echoes over the final cuts of the song as Rutherford chants, “We’re gonna die.” Still, despite its more dismal inferences, there is something oddly seductive about “Female Robbery” that leaves fans craving for more.  

The Neighbourhood is a master of its craft, spinning melt-in-one’s-mouth tunes with startling finesse and will, no doubt, continue to delight and enthrall.  

[ichloemorales]

The Knife : Shaking the Habitual (2013)

Swedish music duo The Knife is an acquired taste, but fans of the eclectic, the eccentric and all things electric will find it delicious.   

Formed in 1999 and based in Stockholm, the group comprises siblings Karin Dreijer Andersson and Olof Dreijer. Their fourth studio album, Shaking the Habitual, is their first release in nearly a decade, succeeding their 2006 release, Silent Shout.

Shaking the Habitual kicks off with “A Tooth for an Eye,” the undertone of which is rich with tribal accents. “Under the sun, look what we have got and those who hasn’t / Bad luck,” Andersson chants, shedding light upon an age-old struggle: the prosperous versus the oppressed. “Rewrite history to suit our needs,” she sings. “Border’s lies / The idea of what’s mine / A strange desire, drawing lines with a ruler / Bring the fuel to the fire.” Broached is the subject of immigration, implicated through allusions to the United States constitution and Marxism, challenging the very institution of such regulation.

The album’s third-longest track, “Raging Lung,” calls attention to remnants of the activism flavors touched upon at the beginning of the record with lines like, “I’ve got a story that money can’t buy / Western standards / Poverty’s profitable / See it slip and slide.” A layering of drums beats ritualistically in the background from beginning to end. At its core, the song’s sloppy-yet-machine-like panache is what draws the listener in and holds him, cradling him in warped synths and distorted bass-lines. Toward the end, the piece becomes almost dreamlike, with a dissonant, uneasy quality tinged with mallet percussion.

Something wicked this way comes at the commencement of the album’s final track, “Ready to Lose,” with the opening beat pacing through the listener like a second pulse. Things mellow out just a touch as Andersson’s muddied vocals creep in. “The blood, the mine, the yours combined / Blood control, a hazy line / Rearranging of desires,” the songstress intones. “Ready, ready to lose a privilege.” There’s a particularly sinister feel to this melody that dares to cut straight to the bone.

The Knife’s music is akin to surrealistic art—anxious, intense and ever luminous. They are the messengers from a forgotten kingdom, the emissaries of a secret order, places that are untouchable just below the surface, but where singularity is all but abandoned.

[ichloemorales]

The Belle Game : Ritual Tradition Habit (2013)

Formed in 2009, the orchestral dark-pop band, The Belle Game, consists of Vancouver-based members Andrea Lo (lead vocals), Adam Nanji (lead guitar), Alex Andrew (rhythm guitar), Katrina Jones (piano) and Rob Chursinoff (drums). The first, full-length album, Ritual Tradition Habit, was released April 16, 2013 and is one addiction listeners won’t want to beat.

The album’s preliminary track, “Ritual,” opens with bashful guitar ornamentation. As Lo’s voice drifts in, it feels at once intimate and distant, as if the melody is being recreated as a composite from one’s own memories. It’s witchy and melancholy, rife with notions of romantic desperation. In the end, it leaves the listener as wistful as the lyrical confession with which it is in accord. Enter “Tradition.” Halfway through Ritual Tradition Habit is a chorus of ghostly, muted harmonies. Lo’s achy crooning clatters and echoes over a layering of background chants that exit as mysteriously as they entered. And finally, there is “Habit.” Herein, the tone becomes more pained, the mood more intoxicated. It conjures the impression of a lounge singer whose heart has been poured out to the audience through the smokescreen of confused percussion and R&B sensibilities. Still, it is this exact amalgamation that holds the listener’s attention.

There is a certain mystique about The Belle Game, noticeable at the very commencement of Ritual Tradition Habit. But the talented foursome isn’t trying to fool anyone; if listeners don’t know, they better find out. TBG is going places, and fans won’t want to be left behind.

[ichloemorales]

Still Corners : Strange Pleasures (2013)

Still Corners, the musical project of songwriter/producer Greg Hughes and vocalist Tessa Murray, taps into a quiet, but powerful niche all to its own. The London-based duo is a force that combines unadulterated talent with an atmospheric mystique that indie pundit and novices alike should be able to appreciate.

Released May 7, 2013, the pair’s second, full-length album, Strange Pleasures, is filled to the brim with confessions, admonitions and apologies—bare and out there. Listeners won’t be able to help but drink in the intoxicating sounds of the album’s first track, “The Trip.” As the flirtatious soprano of Murray’s voice melts into a layering of guitar motifs and the ethereal pitter-pattering of scattered notes, everything seems to fall into place. Evoking the bluesy-rock sensibilities of Fleetwood Mac’s 1977 hit “Dreams,” “The Trip” pulls the listener in like a piece of art, coaxing him into a slowdown so that he might stop and take it all in.

Rickety synths juxtapose Murray’s wispy lyricism in “Berlin Lovers,” a track that follows the more pop-minded vein of its roots. Listeners are drawn in by the darling lure of lighthearted tones and warped beats, calling to attention Still Corners’ ability to impress with a variety of methodologies while, at the same time, maintaining a sound all to its own. “Berlin Lovers” manages to be light without being lightweight, with a minimalistic feel that resonates from start to finish. The album’s penultimate and eponymous track promises to lead the listener to that which is suggested in its title—and follows through. “Strange Pleasures” is as cosmic as it is dangerous, with wraithlike cadences serving as the bedrock of its melody.

Still Corners’ melodies are introspective and intimate—delicate, but magical like the fingertips of a curious love. It is exactly this tenacious touch that will have the duo’s listeners aching for more.  

[ichloemorales]

Sister Crayon : Cynic (2013)

Who is Sister Crayon?

The Sacramento-based flavor is a subtle foursome whose music is sparse in the most literal sense, but lead members Terra Lopez (vocalist) and Dani Fernandez (backing tracks) are indie rock’s proverbial man behind the curtain, a quiet, but significant force with whom listeners are encouraged to reckon.

Although the band released its first full-length album, Bellow, in 2010, it is perhaps the 2013 EP Cynic that has listeners particularly buzzed with anticipation, following the attention claimed by Bellow on MTV’s LOGO network and subsequent touring throughout the United States.

“Cynic,” the eponymous opener, is spellbinding from the get-go. The words are honest and heartfelt, seeming to come from a very real place as Lopez intones, “But even prayer fails, so what now? / If I’m a cynic, then please say so / Nothing’s gonna change until we both know.” The protagonist of the melody seems to crave for something close to the bone, intimacy only obtainable in the give-and-take of pithy disclosure. “I was born faithless,” the singer admonishes. “I was born callous, born into your blur / Father left nothing except a little her behind.” Riddled with daddy issues and an amorphous sense of self, the listener loses himself in the complexity of a protagonist who, despite being damaged goods, wishes she could love. The track’s most charged moment emerges from its core: “The hardest thing is falling asleep knowing I know nothing about you.”

There’s a subdued groove knocking through “Meager Leavings,” a moody, downtempo piece that will keep listeners rocking back and forth until the very end, at which point, fans will only be itching for more. The melodies in which Lopez’s voice is laced border on woozy, but are the most welcome head-spin. “Stranger that birthed me, leave me unnerving / Swallow my hears as well as this anger / Where does the time go? / I was a child once,” she sings. This is the song of the abandoned, lodged under a chink in the proverbial armor.

Perhaps the most impressive song on the album, however, is the fifth in the series, “Other.” Again, the listener feels the songbird pour into him with the frustration of unanswered questions, a sense of incompletion and wanting for something upon which one just can’t quite put a finger. “Give me good news, some holy penchant,” Lopez sings. “Linger in subtle doses where I’ve been intimate.” Toward the end of the track is a final moment of redemption, at which point, the protagonist seems to break through her prolonged battle with inner demons. But ultimately, she surrenders to them in a quiet plea.

Sister Crayon is something eclectic, infectious and downright addicting, carving out a niche for itself with creative abandon.

[ichloemorales]

James Blake : Overgrown (2013)

The world of alternative music has officially been redefined, and such an accomplishment comes at the hands of English music producer and singer-songwriter James Blake.

Blake is the sound of what is real.

Perhaps it is the earthy reverb that entwines itself with the 2013 Mercury Music Prize winner’s soulful timbre. Perhaps it is the lyricism of his songs, which seems to emerge from a place so close to the bone that every word feels like exposure. Or perhaps it is simply the artist’s esoteric ability to maintain an impressively low-key dynamism. Whatever the case might be, James Blake’s most recent album, Overgrown, is a finely calibrated composition in which listeners should allow themselves to get lost.

Released April 5, 2013, Overgrown is Blake’s second studio album, following his 2011 eponymous debut. The first track, tilted “Overgrown,” featured on Blake’s latest composition, opens up on a delicate note, with gentle piano motifs preceding a series of heartfelt, but otherwise short-lived humming. Not long thereafter does Blake’s voice project itself more prominently—ever smooth in its presentation. He sings, “I don’t want you to know I took it with me, but when things are thrown away like they are daily, time passes in the constant state.” Conjured are thoughts of a wounded heart and the sheer exploit of holding onto a moment. The song is so intimate that the implied loneliness is almost palpable.

“Retrograde” is a song that offers an otherworldly twist, binding surrealism with a sense of clarity, embodied in the simplest of lines. “You’re on your own in a world you’ve grown / Two more years to go / Don’t let the hurdle fall / So, be the girl you loved,” sings Blake, the lilts in his crooning more impressive and more hauntingly beautiful in “Retrograde” than, arguably, all other tracks that Blake’s sophomore effort has to offer. It is here that listeners unearth the very heart of the album, learning that “Retrograde” is as fragile as it is powerful. With the final track, “Our Love Comes Back,” lighter chords at the commencement seem to denote a breath of resolution. But as Blake once more begins to pour himself into listeners, one realizes that this is no happy ending; it is a plea for rekindled romance. “But it’s your image burned into my mind and again I find that it’s worth the pain,” the protagonist entreats.

James Blake’s melodies hang ghostlike in the air, and the accomplishment of his musicianship has been proved. He isn’t new; he knows what he’s doing, and he’s doing it well.  

[ichloemorales]

Esben and the Witch : Wash the Sins Not Only the Face (2013)

Esben and the Witch, a three-piece band (Thomas Fisher on guitar, Rachel Davies on bass, percussion and vocals and Daniel Copeman on drums and electronics) hailing from the United Kingdom, is a fever. Its sound, a fusion of gothic pop and post-rock, races through the blood—untamed, unpredictable and captivating. The trio’s sophomore record, Wash the Sins Not Only the Face, is more than an album; it’s a poem. It is the dream that haunts by night and inspires by day. It is a story, and it is real.

Like poems and stories, Wash the Sins Not Only the Face is open to interpretation, allowing and encouraging listeners to create and cultivate their own impressions of the music and lyrics of which the album is composed. Only two verses long, the opening track, “Iceland Spar,” offers a taste of what’s to come, and it is to be savored. It begins in low brushstrokes of static before transgressing to an almost erratic burst of percussion that seems to come at the listener from all sides. Davies’s voice pours in with ghostly grace as she sings, “Intrepid heart, a daunting task / All eyes on the paler path…Impelled to find, for peace inside, just what does lie in other minds.” Her words suggest boldness, and in the undercurrent is a sense of vulnerability. This person, the speaker, has committed herself—caution thrown to the wind—to a quest for connection and a chance to give a piece of herself so as to, in return, be made whole.

Perhaps the most evocative of songs on the album is the fourth track, titled “Shimmering.” There is a rawness to the track to which is, at first, only alluded. However, it is when the chorus chimes in that such rawness at once calls out to the listener, urging him to reach in and dare to feel something. The lines “Scratching my eyes, the castles in the sky are towering / I see you standing there, bent double in the glare / You are stooping…” conjure bittersweet sentiment. The narrator retreats into the false comfort of an idyllic reverie. By the time she realizes her mistake, the damage is already done, and she laments, “The world is in your hands / It’s looming…I’m heady with the haze / I’m sinking.”

The final track on Wash the Sins Not Only the Face opens with the promise of something dangerous. Light and almost reserved, “Smashed to Pieces in the Still of the Night,” at its commencement, catches the listener unawares. Slowly, but surely, though, the music comes to life. There is something about the song that tempts the listener to turn back—but he can’t. Something urges him farther, deeper down the proverbial rabbit hole. And the low, lilting notes of Davies’s voice trickle in like a fog. “We locked a steely gaze that made us shiver / Caged in the concaves, we were cast in silver,” she croons. “And in our rapture, we saw faces vibrating / And to our horror, we thought that our eyes were failing.” Pulled in, the listener is introduced to what is, perhaps, a tale of intimacy ripe with reckless abandon. The blood and sweat of this track lies in the suggestion of losing oneself in a moment. “…We reached denouement,” Davies chants. “And in the still of the night, we were smashed to pieces.”

Fisher, Davies and Copeman have the power to put a spell on their listeners and make them theirs.

[ichloemorales]

Emma Louise : Vs Head Vs Heart (2013)

There is a new breed of singer that bridges the gap between indie and mainstream by combining the established with the new. Such abilities are embodied in Brisbane native Emma Louise, whose silky croon pours over her melodies with a sound reminiscent of the understated, vocal prowess of musicians like Florence Welch.  

While she might not yet be a household name, Louise is a force of nature with which other artists should not trifle. Her debut effort, Vs Head Vs Heart, released May 21, 2013, introduces itself with a sound that, with each cut, takes the listener to a place that seems to dissolve beneath his or her feet.

A chorus of low, reverberated coos pours in like wine as “17 Hours” commences, and already the listener cannot help himself to the taste, drawn in like a moth to the proverbial flame. Every word is a caress; every verse is a prayer. “Hands on her shoulders, hair down her back / Lying to her lover back home…Words hurt when you wait too long / Words hurt when she’s in your arms,” the songbird laments. It begins like a ballad, slowly—but surely—evolving into something more intimate and more emotionally charged to the point that every word seems like exposure. And she sings, “But in my anger, I’m on fire…You left me naked / I burned in his arms like her.” The energy in this song is raw and uncompromising. It is a lover’s confession of betrayal and vulnerability, picking up the pieces of one’s self and confronting not only them, but also the person who caused the damage in the first place.

The first thing one notices at the beginning of “Mirrors,” the fifth track on the album, is the catchy, borderline-upbeat rhythm that preludes the liquid velvet of Louise’s voice, her words a flirtation between notions of jealousy and territorialism. “Spider and web you sew…You bend, bend to be heard,” she sings. “And eyes off of my love…And keep the skin under your dress / It’s only yours to play with / And you know I’m not a fighter, so glue your arms to your side.” It is a warning. A plea. A chastisement. The speaker recognizes the flurry in the water, the potential for corruption of something she holds near and dear, and she wishes to protect it.

Vs Head Vs Heart takes a turn for the sensual toward the end in its penultimate track, “Pontoon.” But the sensuality that exists here is not in the stuff of vampire novels; it is unassuming, flowing in the undercurrent of the melody and melting into Louise’s sugarcoated melancholy like wax from a candle. “Dip my head in the water / Feel my thoughts / Wash over me, over me,” Louise coolly chants. “And I’m ready for disaster / I see you standing over me, over me.” Words ride the wave of suggested surrender. “And I never meant to be the girl who broke your heart / I know I’ve been bad and did you wrong, and now I’m all alone…So, lay with me now / I’ll tell you how it went,” she song continues, opening the listener up to impressions of regret. More prominent, perhaps, is the recognition of reunion, if only in the most carnal of conditions, emphasized by the lines, “And my body feels your anger like a fire burning deep, burning deep.” But regret ultimately rings true at the end, an almost ominous feel accompanying such conclusion.

To some, Emma Louise is an enigmatic figure whose rise to celebrity seems to have occurred overnight—a pretty face with a rich, transcendental voice. But it is that exact amalgamation of mystery and talent that will keep her interesting and, more importantly, keep her around.

[ichloemorales]

Au Revoir Simone : Move in Spectrums (2013)

Members Erika Foster, Annie Hart and Heather D’Angelo are accidental vixens, forming the Brooklyn-based, all-keyboard talent that is Au Revoir Simone. Established in 2003, Au Revoir Simone embodies a soft edge with dream-pop embellishment. The New York natives’ fourth album and latest composite, Move in Spectrums, demonstrates just that.

Move in Spectrums has a heartbeat, and it rattles off in successions as “More Than” slides into the listener’s ear, riding aural waves of ecstasy as rugged synths mingle in accompaniment. Lucid and luminous, the track depicts the the whimsical desire for a connection on both a physical and spiritual level, while pop hooks and psychedelic riffs drive the tune home. Au Revoir Simone continues to tread the funkier, more lighthearted waters of romance in “Gravitron.” “To live a life uncertain can be tough,” the song professes. It’s fun, and it’s carefree, throwing caution to the proverbial wind.

“Let the Night Win” opens with a flourish of pixilated polytones before dulcet tones melt over the tinny keyboard effects. “Is it over?” the voice echoes in question. “I’m still in love with you.” She laments for a moment, admitting, “So, it’s over.” But she is nevertheless resilient. “I’m still in love with you,” she reaffirms. There is no backing down—she can’t. And she won’t. There is something untouchable here that the listener would otherwise dare not touch. It’s something hollowed and intimate and just a little bit dreamlike.

Move in Spectrum is more intricate, more assured and more composed successor of Au Revoir’s past albums, Verses of Comfort, Assurance & Salvation (2005), The bird of Music (2007) and Still Night, Still Night, which—although satisfying—simply do not hold a candle to the trio’s most recent release. Au Revoir Simone owns its feminine slant and matured touch that is as quirky as it is enticing.   

[ichloemorales]

Alt-J : An Awesome Wave (2012)

Alt-J’s music is all over the place—and yet everywhere the listener wants to be.

The English quartet—composed of Gwil Sainsbury (guitar/bass), Joe Newman (guitar/vocals), Gus Unger-Hamilton (keyboards) and Thom Green (drums)—first appeared on the scene in 2007, releasing its debut album, An Awesome Wave, in May 2012 in Europe and September 2012 in the United States, winning the 2012 British Barclaycard Mercury Prize for best album from the United Kingdom and Ireland.

An Awesome Wave is a genre-defying masterpiece of 14 tracks. It begins as a wolf in sheep’s clothing, baring its fangs in the preliminary track before retreating into its tender guise. It is once the thrush of piano chords weaves in with “Tessellate” that the listener finds the howling heart of Alt-J’s genius. “Bite chunks out of me / You’re a shark, and I’m swimming / My heart still thumps as I bleed, and all your friends come sniffing,” sings Newman, whose gravelly timbre aches with rich, elegiac language. “Three guns, and one goes off / One’s empty, one’s not quick enough,” the song continues, and here, the listener is painted an intimate picture of a relationship that has imploded. “Chunks of you will sink down to seals…They’ll nosh you up / Yes, they’ll nosh the love away, but it’s fair to say you will still haunt me,” the speaker concedes. Newman’s soulful vocals add extra depth to this track, breathing life into an impression of nostalgia.

At the core of An Awesome Wave, Alt-J delves into the gritty underbelly of humanity. “Fitzpleasure,” the album’s 10th track, is a nod to author Hubert Selby Jr.’s 1964 novel Last Exit to Brooklyn in which a prostitute named Tralala is sexually assaulted with a broomstick. The song offers an artistic, almost cryptic interpretation of the aforementioned event. Voices chant the prostitute’s name like a prayer before the story pours in. Newman croons with an almost matter-of-fact attitude. “In your snatch fits pleasure, broom-shaped pleasure,” the narrator recites. “Dead in the middle of the c-o double m-o-n…Tall woman, pull the pylons down and wrap them around the necks of all the feckless men that queue to be the next.” The lyrics serve as a warning shot, fired across jagged edges and a hard-hitting, textured accompaniment.

Tying everything together is a tender moment manifested in two words: “Hand-Made.” “Hand-Made,” the 14th and hidden track of the album, alludes to a vulnerability begotten by exposure in its most chronic form. This is the story of a person haunted by the lives he’s loved, each one forcing him to draw farther into himself. “Your sting, red, full-stops my skin / Dotted, scratch, scratch / Now, I’m bleeding / Legions upon legions of craftsmen handmade my feelings,” the speaker reflects. “There’s bears in the wood, and they’re out to get me, and I’m safe from harm if I stay in this chalet.” And then, something happens. “And hold me tight, and I’ll sink in / I’m absorbed in your thinking,” Newman croons. Through the darkness, a light begins to peek, cautiously flickering as if with a cry for help as the chorus deplores, “But you don’t know.” Defeat—self-inflicted.

Alt-J offers audiences a new breed of musicianship and has found its niche where none other existed.