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2017 Honorable Mentions

Here’s a bunch of records I liked a whole heckuva lot, but didn’t love. In alphabetical order.

Blaenavon-That’s Your Lot Like a mixture of a sad Hippo Campus and late-2000′s british guitar bands. There’s a lot of potential here, but they haven’t learned how to edit themselves yet as there’s a good 15 minutes that could be done away with here. Still, a very promising debut.

Converge-The Dusk in Us Not a whole lot of heavy bands are worth your time these days. Converge is one of them.

Father John Misty-Pure Comedy Perhaps the schtick is going a bit too far now. He hit the happy medium on 2015′s I Love You, Honeybear, but now there’s about a third of a record that veers dangerously close to unintentional self-parody.

Hippo Campus-Landmark Really solid full-length debut from Minnesota’s favorite boy band, but it drags a bit in the mid-section. Fortunately, they understand the art of sequencing and start and end strong.

Homeless Gospel Choir-Presents: Normal A loose concept album about that pesky thing called “growing up.” The songs are great but suffer from the production pathology that afflicts so many solo punks: cheap sounding full band arrangements. Having seen the dude live, he’d be better off leaving the songs to his guitar and voice alone.

Japandroids-Near to the Wild Heart of Life There are some great singles here, but also some pretty horrific duds, not least of which includes the onanistic 8-minute centerpiece “Arc of Bar.” When your album is only 8 songs, you can’t really afford any hiccups. Not bad, but easily the least good release of their career.

Joan of Arc-He’s Got the Whole This Land is Your Land in His Hands Latest from the Kinsella sibling who’s not in American Football. One of the choruses is “I know how the nicest guy in ISIS feels.” Alrighty.

Kesha-Rainbow “Praying” is a great single, and the rest of the album is fun enough for the most part, but Kesha has no identity of her own on this project. This doesn’t play like eclectic genre-experimentation in pursuit of a coherent whole, but rather, it seems like someone low on ideas throwing everything against the wall to see what sticks. The production is also dreadful with clipping throughout and absolutely no sense of dynamics or subtlety. Kesha had a great chance to define a moment here, but it seems like circumstances have ended up defining her. Bummer. We were all rooting for her.

LCD Soundsystem-American Dream Same deal as Japandroids. Not bad, but easily their weakest work to date.

Lil Peep-Come Over When You’re Sober Pt. 1 On its own merits this record doesn’t totally live up to the hype, but it functions as an unfortunate reminder of what he might have accomplished had his time on earth been longer. Lil Peep was on to something genuinely innovative, and frankly, was the only buzzy soundcloud rapper worth a fuck.

The Menzingers-After the Party Are you noticing a theme yet? Brilliant singles. “Tellin Lies,” “Midwestern States,” “Bad Catholics,” the title track, all bangers. Too bad every other song sounds like an early draft of the others. Again, should’ve been an EP.

Mountain Goats-Goths A guitar-less ode to the cool parts of the 80′s. Just too many god-dang filler tracks. That said, I need to need to crank Siouxsie in LA on a 90F+ day before I die. If you have have an interest in gothy new wave bands that aren’t named The Smiths or The Cure, this is required listening.

Propagandhi-Victory Lap Still the only political punk band that matters. Ok, that’s a lie, but this record was worth the wait. Canada’s finest continue to push themselves with every release, and this one might be the closest to an accessible radio rock album they’ve ever made. Fortunately, there’s no coinciding loss of verve.

Q-Pup-Ancient Agriculture and What it Means Quite possibly the most fussed-over local release of the last year, this is clearly the work of a perfectionist. Literate and labyrinthine without descending into pretension, it drastically improves upon the template laid out by Q-Pup’s closest sonic forebear, Neutral Milk Hotel.

Rostam-Half-Light Hot take: Better than the last Vampire Weekend album. Hot take: Rostam was the talent and the new VW album is gonna blow.

Shout Out Louds-Ease My Mind It smells like 2007 in here and that’s a good thing. Indie-pop was perfected on Our Ill Wills and Shout Out Louds are smart enough not to mess with a winning formula.

Slowdive-S/T Hot take: It’s better than Souvlaki.

Thurston Moore-Rock ‘n Roll Consciousness It sounds like Sonic Youth, but listening to this shows that they were filthy hippies the whole time. They just couldn’t play the blues.

U2-Songs of Experience I’m a scene dad, so I should probably like some dad rock. U2 have kept pushing themselves their entire career, and this is no exception. Whether or not they succeeded is up for debate.

Vagabon-Infinite Worlds A completely unnecessary and incongruous 6-minute interlude kills all the momentum on this already brief slab of 2000′s indie revivalism. A 25-minute album can’t afford to give up 20% of its runtime to filler. Just release 20 minutes of perfection instead.

Weezer-Pacific Daydream Stop whining that it isn’t Pinkerton. Weezer is a pop band, and always wanted to be. Put on some shades and have fun or go cry to Modern Baseball.

2017 Local & EP Roundup

Title says it all. Here are my favorite local MN area releases and various other EPs of 2017. List is in alphabetical order. Sorry I can’t write an essay about everything, but all y’all’s stuff is sicc.

Blacc.KLagoon x w e s t k o r e a: Baby Boy EP This collab EP showcases one of the more interesting new projects to come from the MN DIY scene. This EP owes its influence rrespectively to the jazz-rap of the early 90′s, the vibed-out party jams of early Outkast, and the staunchly political lyricism of Kendrick Lamar. I’m very interested to see where this duo goes from here, especially as they continue to hone their sound and become true innovators upon the precedent of those who came before them. This is one to watch.

Boy Pablo: Roy Pablo EP This sub-20-minute indie pop masterpiece is one of the most slept-on of the year. Boy Pablo is an 18-year old from Norway with sense of melody and composition that would the envy of people half his age. Roy Pablo finds the sweet spot between Mac DeMarco and The War on Drugs, losing the affected apathy of the former, and the inescapable pretension of the latter. Don’t sleep.

Double Grave: New Year’s Daydream Formerly known as Ego Death, Double Grave put out an excellent mini-album this year which seamlessly meshes the amplifier worship of Starflyer 59 with the prettier moments of post-punk, resulting in a noisy, but nonetheless beautiful project.

Since learning of this band, Jeremy Warden has become one of my favorite guitarists in the scene, and his melodic lines steal the show here. In many cases, his warped, glide-stummed leads provide the real hooks. It’s easy to lose yourself in the sonic wormhole, but it’s a trip well-worth taking. Shoegaze meets immediacy.

Hippo Campus: Warm Glow EP Minnesota’s favorite exports followed up this year’s full-length Landmark with a far more progressive digital-only release. Their boyish pop charm remains intact, but this time they put their considerable instrumental chops to use and create something really special. If a twinkle band went pop, this is what you might get, and I’m all about it.

Inconsistent: Acting Cool EP This one has had a permanent place in my CD changer (shut up, I’m old) since its release. I probably jam it at least once a week in the morning when I’m getting dressed for work.

Isaac Luedtke gives a lyrical masterclass in radical honesty in his graphic tales of depression and anxiety. As I said before, I’m old, but not so old that I don’t remember vividly what felt like to be 17 and have no idea where you belong or what you’re going to do with your life. It’s a specific type of suburban angst, but one that never really leaves. The causes of existential consternation may change, but the effects always linger. Acting Cool is frankly the most concentrated dose of whup-ass I’ve seen from a local band in a while. If this were a full-length effort, it would likely have made my AOTY list.

Look for these cats to blow up in 2018.

Less Than Jake: Sound The Alarm EP Ska rules and I’ll fight you on that. LTJ has always had strong EP releases and this one is no exception. You might not expect a third-wave ska band in its 25th year of existence to have any particularly profound thoughts on aging, but here we are.

“Welcome to my Life” seems like a direct response to their 2003 hit “The Science of Selling Yourself Short,” right down to its white-boy reggae lilt. Roger Lima’s decade-older narrator finds himself in far more apologetic mood. Years of binging, worrying too much about the future, and taking the people who love you for granted can leave you with a lifetime of missed memories, failed relationships, and self-inflicted loneliness. Instead of defiance and an acceptance of mediocrity, we’re trying to save whatever’s left.

Another song that seems unfortunately timely is “Bomb Drop.” While the band likely meant it as an allegory for the inevitability of age and irrelevance, in Trump’s America it seems all too literal. We’re just watching the clock, waiting for the bomb to drop.

Naive Sense: [Self-Titled] EP RIP. They were too good for this world. Hands down the best hardcore band I’ve ever seen in my life. Their shows will be the stuff of legend. I shit-talk hardcore as a genre quite a bit, but Naive Sense proved that the medium can still be powerfully sublime when combined with a timely, vital message and musicians with a desire to push sonic boundaries.

I have no words. Listen for yourself and weep if you never got to witness it. They were more than a band, they were the pure voice of light and hope in human form.

Oftener: Lavender EP The solo project of Nate Gurrola, vocalist of the now-defunct Ridgewood, Lavender marks a return after nearly two years of silence. What we have here is a collection acoustic ballads that feature some of his strongest vocal work and arrangements that refuse to be pigeonholed. Describing Lavender as acoustic shoegaze seems like a cop-out, and labeling it emo seems like an insult. There’s a lot more going on here than sad-boy whining.

Oftener has recently expanded to a full band, and will be releasing another EP as such next month. Having seen this configuration live, I’m confident that this will bring another layer to the sound and make them a band to watch moving forward.

Township: Impact Bliss Another band leaving us too soon, Township announced their impending breakup this spring, so make sure you catch a show if they make it to your area one more time.

Impact Bliss is a beautiful, textured homage to shoegaze. While Double Grave resides in the poppier, more accessible end of the spectrum, Township aren’t afraid to take their audience down long swirling rabbit holes with massive dynamic shifts to throw the listener off-balance.

This record is best enjoyed in a dark room, slightly high at 2am, and loud. Township have shot for the ethereal majesty of Souvlaki and Loveless, and come damn close to their mark. It’s that good.

VIN: S/T EP Debut release by a new band with former member of Infinite Me and Familiar Theme features some of the most deceptively straight forward rock you’ll find in the local DIY scene. But make no mistake, this is prog all the way.

Bassist Nicholas Culliton and drummer Jacob Scully are particular standouts here. Culliton creates arpeggiated, harmonized lines where a lesser musician would just be happy to drone a root note, or just mirror the bass drum. By playing like a third guitarist, he gives the band a far thicker sound without overpowering the primary melodic elements. Scully on the other hand is a rudimental monster with the musical sense to use his chops as a complement to the music, rather than an excuse to show off.

Weathered: Misnomer EP These guys have made massive improvements to both their production and compositions since their last time out. Arrangements are fussed over and far more intricate than the emo genre is usually blessed with. In particular, the rhythm section of Christian Rassmussen and Alec Panchyshyn are a two-man wrecking crew from the moment “Better For Me” kicks into second gear, and the latter subtle touch with the sticks and some lovely color to the proceedings.

The production is also a big star here in that it imbues the music with enough clarity to be a pleasant listen, but leaves the edges just rough enough to leave some nervous intensity around the band. This newfound clarity and crispness suits Weathered well.

With another album on the way in 2018, Weathered is poised to be the Minnesota DIY scene’s next big export. Misnomer isn’t just good for a local band, it’s good for anybody.

Wretch: BANGERZ It’s kinda like if DFA1979 weren’t edgelords and ripped way harder. This is another great local that we lost in their prime. RIP.

If you couldn’t infer from the quip above, Wretch is (was?) a drum and bass combo but with a wicked front-person whose lyrics manage to speak incisive truth to the scourge of modern beauty standards (among other subjects) while still being darkly hilarious. It doesn’t read like a sermon, but rather a brilliantly dance-able stand-up routine that would George Carlin proud.

No, none of that is intended as a backhanded compliment. Comedy is one of the most powerful tools we have for expression. BANGERZ is one the most fun releases of the year, and also one of the most thought-provoking.

Kendrick Lamar-DAMN.

7.5/10

Finally got around to listening to DAMN. It's very solid, and notably, FAR MORE accessible to the casual listener than his last two records. However, it just doesn't strike me as an instant classic the way To Pimp a Butterfly and Good Kid, m.a.a.d City did. I honestly believe those are the two best hip-hop records of this decade, and possibly the 21st century, with Yeezy's My Beautiful, Dark, Twisted Fantasy a close 3rd.

So, expecting a third consecutive genre-shattering masterpiece seems like a tall order that even Kendrick realized he couldn't fulfill. Instead he chose to make a full-fledged pitch to the mainstream (like Drake-level mainstream, no-one would call post-2013 Kendrick underground) and adjust his sound as such by, for example, focusing on hooks and singles rather than recurring motifs threaded throughout the record.

However, he is to be commended for not completely abandoning his style and voice and selling out to the vapid Drake/Future paradigm that is still inexplicably in vogue for the sake of a cheap hit. If this is the new sound of pop-rap, I'm all for it.

Sadly, the intra-album narrative is not rich enough, and the production too minimalistic, at least by Kendrick standards, to reward multiple listens and an obsessive dissection of the lyric sheet.

That said, "DNA," and the closing suite of "FEAR," "GOD," and "DUCKWORTH" are absolutely spectacular and would have fit flawlessly on either of his last two albums. Unfortunately, the mid-section of the record drags, and feels a bit under-inspired. Even the unfinished demos of last year's untitled.unmastered are more intriguing and rewarding of close inspection than much the material on offer here.

Again, this is not a bad album by any stretch, but when you've been spoiled with the god-like genius of Kendrick's first two records, anything less than paradigm-shifting perfection feels like a bit of a disappointment.

Emo Dave Rides Again

Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face cuz this right here’s a sad ‘un.

Remo Drive-Greatest Hits

9.5/10

Calling your debut LP Greatest Hits is undoubtedly a ballsy move, but ballsy is probably the best way to describe Remo Drive’s re-invention. While their previous work was heavily indebted to the emo revival in the early part of the decade, Greatest Hits owes just as much to the quirky indie rock of the late 90′s like Pavement and The Dismemberment Plan. On “Eat Shit,” they even channel a bit of MxPx.

The most notable shifts in style revolve around Erik Paulson’s evolution as a lyricist, and the return of Sam Mathys on drums.

While the self-flagellation of their early work is not entirely gone, the lyrics have been imbued with an acerbic wit which makes of the darker moments a bit more palatable. For example, 2015′s Wait For the Sun EP opened with the lines “When the feelings are too much to take/When the ice is certain to break/When you wrists are bleeding blue/And your moods are that color too.” However, on lead single “Yer Killin’ Me” similar sentiments are expressed thusly, “You make me want to start rolling fat ass blunts ‘till I start choking/Anything that’s bad for me.”

So the level of melodrama is still there, but it’s now tempered--and primarily expressed--with the screwball humor and that has always been bubbling under the surface of Remo’s aesthetic. Now they’ve just chosen to fully embrace what has always come naturally to them, rather than forcing themselves to play into a trendy paradigm. For fuck’s sake, the hook on the album’s closing track bites off from Kreayshawn’s immortal (for better or worse) “Gucci, Gucci,” and if it wasn’t intentional, it’s a hell of a coincidence.

However, the telltale sign of artistic maturity here is the thematic through-line of the record; Greatest Hits is a mediation on the validity of love in age where the very idea of possession is quickly becoming an antiquated notion. The emotional crux of the record is delivered early on in “Hunting For Sport” where the chorus exclaims “Now I’m not sure if I want my master’s love...What is love if it’s just you and me/And everybody else you fucking know?”

Now maybe this shows to illuminate the inherently destructive nature of our capitalistic society where personal relationships only have value inasmuch as they have some degree of exclusivity. Or maybe that is just the reality of human nature as just about everyone I know has set some type of boundary within their amorous dealings.

However, Paulson shows his ability to recognize that being used as a utilitarian device isn’t so pleasant in the very next song, “Only like me ‘cuz I’m safe/With my 4-star crash test rating.” Being used as a security blanket isn’t a whole lot of fun, especially when you feel like you aren’t being treated as an equal in the relationship.

By the end of the record, our narrator has gone from seeking solace in other people, to seeking it in material possessions with a literal parade of household item name checks on the last two tracks. Without ownership (of goods or personal relationships) and the resultant power that comes with it, one cannot feel whole.

The utter frustration of feeling as though all your peers are becoming adults by fulfilling the above criteria while you’re still metaphorically eating shit on your skateboard is brilliantly captured in “Eat Shit” and it’s accompanying video where Paulson eats actual shit. It works on so many levels, I still chuckle every time I hear that song.

Beyond lyrics, the re-addition of Sam Mathys has given the new material a jazzy lilt in a departure from Austin Voight’s monolithic, wall-of-sound approach. Sam gives what could be pedestrian rock grooves incredible depth by mastering the subtle art of cymbal tones and off-time accents.

Throughout the record, he drives beautiful tempo and groove changes that elevate the arrangements to stratospheric heights. A good drummer knows that best way to make himself shine, is to figure out how best to compliment the rhythmic and melodic quirks of his bandmates.

On “Strawberita” and “Yer Killin’ Me” in particular, his work stands out. I won’t write out every little thing, but there is so much brilliant tonal work that adds just the right color to the song that it’s hard to imagine anyone else playing it. I normally don’t like busy drumming, but Mathys has the rare ability to fill up of every open space with just the right sound to build or scale back tension.

The only flaw--and it’s not even really a flaw--is that Remo Drive has kept up their trademark of ending almost every song with a long, instrumental coda. While this usually just adds to their weirdo charm, like in “Yer Killin’ Me,” it occasionally gets in the way of the momentum of the album and ends up distracting me you, the hypothetical listener. Namely, on the end of “Hunting For Sport,” there is about a full minute of seemingly random stops and false endings. This feels like a missed opportunity to drive things into the red after the excellent opening salvo of “Art School” and the first three minutes of “Hunting For Sport.”

However, this formula works best on “Strawberita” where the instrumental break allows for the outro chorus of “I want nothing to do with you!” to be all the more powerful and cathartic.

Remo Drive have come up with something immensely powerful here, and I would not be the least bit surprised to see an army of clones taking over the MPLS basement scene three years from now. As Emo and Pop-Punk inevitably re-enter the mainstream, my money is on Remo Drive to combine those elements with their Fantano-approved basement sensibility and take it nuclear.

Get ready y’all, this is just the beginning.

Fuckin’ things man.

IDK, my BFF Jill? I want to write nice things I really. I don’t like being a negative Nancy.

The Orwells-Terrible Human Beings

4/10

Eh. Dangerous sexuality only works as an aesthetic when it's tragically hip and elegantly disheveled. See all hyped indie-rock from 2001-2005.

When a bunch of gangly-ass white eggheads from the suburbs consciously re-create it a decade late(r) as a marketing ploy it's just nauseating.

Unfortunately, this isn't that entertainingly awful. It's worse. Boring.

Suicide Silence-S/T

3/10

Suicide Silence attempts what other metalcore acts have done more successfully; transition to an accessible mainstream rock sound and audience. It worked for BMTH and ADTR, but here it just further accentuates that Suicide Silence is a one-trick pony.

The terrible lead single “Doris” set the bar low and became an instant meme, but unfortunately, it’s one of the comparatively bright spots on this underwhelming record.

Suicide Silence’s attempts at a radio-rock crossover sound come across like a garage band stumbling through bad Deftones covers at their first practice. The sheer ineptitude, combined with the fact that a label was even willing to release this, is astounding.

This mediocrity (to put it mildly) casts the remnants of Suicide Silence’s old deathcore sound in an unfairly favorable light. The brief forays into competence provide welcome relief.

I expect a severe course correction on their next release.

Dirty Projectors-S/T

2/10

Let’s just get this out of the way early. Dave Longstreth is exceptionally talented. He possesses an Ivy League music degree, and it shows. His understanding of melody, harmony, and tonality is nearly unparalleled in pop music, and I’m just some jackass with a tumblr page.

I guess now is as good a time as any to admit (if you couldn’t figure it out for yourself) that I don’t review music in an objective, structural sense. I review music in a subjective, what-does-it-all-mean, how-does-this-relate-to-the-culture-at-large, how-does-this advance-the-medium/genre kinda way. I don’t get into the nuts and bolts of production, or cadences, or harmonic structures unless it’s distracting from the overall message of the product.

Take punk for example. No one would ever mistake the Ramones for virtuosos, but you would be an idiot to write them off since pretty much all mainstream rock since the late 70′s owes at least a foundational aesthetic to them.

Speaking of punk, (SEGUE!) the first Dirty Projectors album anyone cared about was 2007′s Rise Above the post-modern circle jerk in which the group re-imagined (read: drained of all life, and ignored the cultural context behind...) Black Flag’s 1981 opus. The ironic, self-satisfied condescension of a bunch of literal art-school rejects layering dense fussed-over harmonies onto songs that were imagined as blinding, cathartic rage against both internal emotional and external structural oppression is still nauseating a decade later.

Some dipshit tried to fight me in college for saying that once.

While Dirty Projectors are once again a solo act, the same sense of narcissistic genre-superiority is still alive and kicking. Except now there is nice dollop of nice-guy woe-is-me misogyny AND a desperate attempt to fit in with the kids and their hippity-hop. In “Up in Hudson,” Longstreth whines “Now I'm listening to Kanye on the Taconic Parkway/riding fast/And you're out in Echo Park/blasting 2Pac/drinking a fifth for my ass.” As you might know, this record is about the breakup of Longstreth and his lover/bandmate Amber Coffman. The above lyric might not be so gross if it weren’t for the fact that opening lines of the record are “I don't know why you abandoned me/You were my soul and my partner.” Well, I’m sure your whiny victim mentality didn’t have anything to do with it.

This tack continues as Longstreth continues to make not-so-subtle jabs at the moral and artistic credibility of his ex. Returning to the opening track, Longstreth delivers this particularly pissy kiss-off: “What I want from art is truth/What you want is fame/Now we'll keep 'em separate/And you keep your name”

Taking this line in context of his east-west dichotomy (LA a symbol of fake plasticity and NY is gritty realism) and the long standing truism that women in the performing arts are often viewed as superficial entertainers providing fun escapism whilst the men get on with such lofty things like “Real” Art, Objectivity, Reason, and Truth.

And in a roundabout way this bring me to my major gripe with the cult of Dirty Projectors and hipsterdom in general. It’s no secret that I grew up as disciple of the early 2000′s pop-punk and emo scene, which has rightly been critiqued as cesspool of vengeful, beta-male “nice-guy” revenge-misogyny. Say Anything’s “Every Man Has A Molly” is perfect example of this with lines like “Molly Connolly ruined my life/I thought the world should know.”

However, I would argue that Say Anything’s treatment of the subject is more palatable since Max Bemis seems to be capable of self-reflection and critique. In contrast, every time Dave Longstreth comes to close to admitting a fault, it comes caked in backhanded sarcasm since he knows he has to pay lip service to being magnanimous.

And now I turn on the critics: Why the fuck is it ok for an effeté ninny (oh the beautiful irony) to spew this venom, but when a bunch of skate rats in a garage whine about girls ignoring them, it’s an affront to music and good taste? At least the latter group can have a sense of humor about themselves and their genre. But go ahead and lionize the 30-something Yale grad pandering to modern production trends in a desperate bid for self-aggrandizing relevance.

However, as my rating shows, this record isn’t all bad. The mid-album ballad “Little Bubble” is actually quite beautiful and one of the few moments where Longstreth allows his mask to slip and recognizes that this is maybe, partially, his fault.

And lastly, can we laugh at that album art? It’s a fucking broken Nutter Butter.

Thundercat-Drunk

7/10

If you’re into jazz or funk, this essential listening. Thundercat is an incredible musician and his songwriting manages to be hilarious and personal at the same time.

Seriously, one of singles is about Goku. Unfortunately, it gets a little noodly at times, but if you’ve enjoyed his work with Flying Lotus and Kendrick Lamar, definitely check this out.

Also, the guest appearances from Kenny Loggins and Michael McDonald may be final confirmation that the yacht-rock aesthetic is being revived.

Sun Kil Moon-Common as Light and Love are Red Valleys of Blood

9/10

Anyone who follows my writing knows that one of my biggest complaints about records is that they’re too long, so with a running time of over two hours, I should probably hate this.

Not so.

Mark Kozelek does not make songs, or by extension records, in any traditional sense. Since 2012′s Among the Leaves, he has slowly transitioned away from folky songs about mundane happenings in his life, to creating backing tracks to accompany dramatic readings of his diary.

Ok, that’s an oversimplification, but on many tracks here he drops al pretense to lyricism and recites letters, or just recounts what he was doing on a particular. Right down to giving us the exact date and the entreé he ate for dinner.

On a sonic level, the record moves away from the classical guitar stylings of the last few albums, and bases the sound around hypnotic bass lines and synth textures.

I’m really not doing a good job of selling this, but there’s something disarming about a man who has long ago achieved his place in the music world giving absolutely no thought whatsoever into sales, critical appeasement, or fan expectations.

With the exception of critics, none of this seems to be motivated by angst or spite, but rather from an intense desire to document all that he feels and thinks.

It’s almost Chekovian in a way. The droll observations on daily occurrences, and in some cases, dubious urban legends, allow for the profundity of the human condition to be put on full display.

CALALARVOB works because it takes the listener on a journey of discovery, not only of the world around them, but their own soul as well. If you’re willing to follow Kozelek down the (long, twisting) rabbit holes he regularly detours down, you’ll be in for a treat.

The only sections that fall flat are Kozelek’s anti-technology rants. He spends so much time mocking smartphone users, that his very valid criticisms of the political climate or music industry circle-jerks at SXSW can get buried under his admittedly self-aware curmudgeonliness.

This record will drain you with blunt depictions of the world’s horror, and build you up with a steadfast commitment to love and joy wherever you can find it.

Strap in, it’s gonna be a hell of a ride.

EVERYTHING IS ALIVE EVERYTHING IS BREATHING I RIPPED OFF THIS TITLE I HAVE NO NOVEL THOUGHTS

Moving in the right direction here, some thoroughly enjoyable records this time.

Japandroids-Near to the Wild Heart of Life

7/10

I’M ALIVE AND EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE OK.

Maybe not, but that is the fundamental sentiment of Japandroids decade-plus career. As everyone is probably aware of by now, the ‘droids debut full-length, 2009′s Post-Nothing, was released after they had already made the decision to break up. However, after it became surprise hit, they obviously decided to keep the band going.

Since then, they’ve approached their every move with a level of wide-eyed stoken-ness that rival the gnarliest skater or the cheesiest EZ-core band. In that regard, Near to the Wild Heart of Life does not disappoint in any way.

While this is nowhere near the paradigm-smashing glory of 2012′s instant classic Celebration Rock, it represents a confident and solid step forward. Here we find the 'droids experimenting with synths, ballads, and even acoustic guitars.

Unfortunately, the whole affair gets drug down a bit by the mid-album "Arc Of Bar." The song drags out for over 7 minutes with no climax or payoff in sight. Just tired cliche after cliche that makes them sound like a slightly gritty yacht-rock band 40 years their elders.

However this is immediately followed up by one of their best ever tracks in “Midnight to Morning” which begs the question of what the Foo Fighters may have sounded like if they never became an arena-conquering megaforce and instead faded into relative obscurity after their debut.

Japandroids are back, but they’re just mere mortals now.

Cloud Nothings-Life Without Sound

4/10

Add Cloud Nothings to the list of late ‘00s/early ’10s hype bands that started out with a couple promising releases and then just ran out of gas.

Most of Life Without Sound just comes off as stuff that wasn’t good enough to put on 2014′s Here and Nowhere Else. Worse still, the ideas still seem underdeveloped.

Most of the songs follow a too-familiar structure. Start off at a decent clip, build dynamics for a bit, repeat one phrase ad infinitum while everything pushes into the red.

Dylan Baldi still has decent ear for melody, and some of the guitar interplay is quite interesting. However, that’s just not enough to elevate this to the level of the band’s high-water mark, 2012′s near-perfect Attack on Memory.

There are plenty of other bands doing the 90′s revival thing a heck of a lot better than this.

Less Than Jake-Sound the Alarm EP

7/10

LTJ haven’t sounded this vital for over a decade when they put out the underrated In With the Out Crowd. While they don’t make another horn-less album here, they definitely confirm they view themselves as a punk band first, and a ska band second.

With that in mind, Sound the Alarm places a premium on vocal harmonies and hooks. Thankfully though, they have corrected course from 2013′s over-produced See The Light and now allow the guitars and vocals to have a rawer sound, kicking the verve up a notch.

Also, the lyrical content here has advanced beyond slacker anthems celebrating a life of loitering in the liquor store parking lot and showcases an ability for self-reflection largely absent from previous work. The strongest track, “Welcome to My Life,” which seems like an intentional re-imagining of “The Science of Selling Yourself Short,” sees the boys recognizing the hurt and pain their dysfunctional ways have caused their loved ones and making a heartfelt attempt at an apology.

Old habits die hard, so this isn’t a genre defining masterpiece, but 25 years in, and LTJ aren’t going anywhere. Like the final track proclaims, “things change,” but maturity is a good look for Less Than Jake.

The Menzingers-After the Party

8/10

The Menzingers showed up at just the right time. Their first buzzworthy album, 2012′s On the Impossible Past, hit the scene right after The Gaslight Anthem’s underwhelming Handwritten showed that the Jersey Boys were fresh out of ideas despite their insistence that they weren’t just punked-out clones of The Boss. But luckily for us, there was another drunken, over-earnest, east-coast punk band waiting in the wings.

On After the Party, The Menzingers ask the time-honored question of “what do we do when the party’s over?” In this case phrased in a rather-on the nose metaphorical reveal of “what are we gonna do now that our 20′s are over?”

While this type of bluntness is usually reserved for cringy scene bands and edgy singer-songwriters, The Menzingers take a page out of the Jawbreaker/Japandroids playbook and try to cover up for it with sheer intensity. And for the most part, they succeed.

On their previous records, a single phrase repeated 18 times usually sufficed for a chorus, but this time around The Menzingers seem to have made a conscious attempt to build their songs around hooks, rather than jamming a simplistic idea into a sincerity-shaped blur, and just beating the listener into submission.

At moments, the record reaches a truly insightful level of storytelling, namely on “Bad Catholics” where our narrator spins the story of a former flame who grew into a proper “church-girl” in spite of their shared adolescent tomfoolery. It’s a story that’s especially relatable to me as an alumni of Catholic school, and it’s rendered even more touching by the careful handling of a subject that could have easily morphed into woe-is-me bullshit or a stalker fantasy.

However, the emotional crux of the record tellingly arrives with the title track, a heartbreaking story of lost youth and the flickering flame of love that might not see you through the coldest, darkest nights. It’s too bad that The Menzingers missed a prime opportunity to end the record with a gut-punch. “After the Party” has the shout-it-till-you’re-hoarse chorus and a beautiful fadeout, but for some reason they just had to jam in a filler track after it, as if they wanted the record to end with a whimper when it could have been a roar.

Which brings me to the only real flaw with the record; it’s too fucking long. The middle of the album is a glut of 4 straight filler tracks with two more book-ending either side of the aforementioned title track. Sequencing matters people, get it together.

There are also two tracks, ”Your Wild Years” and “Livin’ Ain’t Easy, that feature obviously sampled, "clicky" kick drum hits that stand out in glaring contrast to the relatively raw production by Steve Albini clone wunderkind Will Yip. I've drummed enough drums in my life to know that sample replacement is fairly standard, but the goal is still to make it sound "real."

Had The Menzingers cut this down to 9 or 10 tracks, or better yet, a 7-song EP, this could have been a 10/10 release. Nevertheless, it’s still by far their strongest record and I hope they don’t go the way of The Gaslight Anthem and start making maudlin MOR rock.

Post-Modernism decidedly does not rock.

2017 continues to disappoint as surely as Rock cannibalizes itself.

Code Orange-Forever

2/10

This record wouldn’t be nearly as obnoxious as it is without Code Orange’s newfound (or just more exaggerated) sense of genre-superiority. In the lead-up to Forever’s release, the band seemed to attract more publicity for their comments trashing the bargin-bin deathcore/metalcore bands populating Warped Tour as of late, than their actual music. Unfortunately, irony seems to be lost on this crew as this record, especially the first three tracks, primarily differs from the Asking Alexandrias and Attilas of the world solely in aesthetics and macho-posturing rather than any meaningful compositional way. Worse still are the lyrics which sound like they were ripped straight from an edgy 14-year-old Silpknot fan’s diary. The cringiest moment comes during “Hurt Goes On,” a completely un-subtle NIN rip-off with this lovely poetry “I’m just a dog in a cage/waiting to pick you to pieces/waiting for something to change/the next time you use your big boy voice/the next time you choose to speak my name...the only reason i’m alive is to watch your mind go dead...i wanna hurt you mentally.”

Before that though, things are just hilarious. Namely on the butt-rock anthem “Ugly” whose hook goes ”Green is the color of power and greed/But now blood red's the only thing I can see/Live like a loser, die like a king/Ugly is the only way I know how to be.” Ok there tough guy. Keep yer pants on. The one redeeming quality of this record, however, is Code Orange’s willingness to inject industrial influence into their pulverizing hardcore to create a genuinely terrifying soundscape.

On an instrumental level, Forever breaks new ground. However, the lyrics and ideology are so corny that no level of intensity can make up for it.

Foxygen-Hang

4/10

A perfectly enjoyable if somewhat pointless blast from the past. Foxygen have made a career from ripping off Todd Rundgren’s 70′s soft rock and imbuing it with an inferior version of whimsy.

The true star here is the virtuosic bass playing that elevates this beyond ironic retro dross. Sadly, Sam France’s poor-man’s (drunk?) Mick Jagger vocal delivery grates on the ear and prevents the fairly beautiful and symphonic arrangements from truly taking flight. Pity.

AFI-S/T (The Blood Album)

6.5/10

Davey Havok finally learned how to stop singing through his nose.

This is the album we’ve been waiting on since 2006. Rather than suffering from delusions of grandeur, AFI is now only suffering from an inability to edit.

For the most part, The Blood Album is a very confident slab of radio rock with smart production choices and brilliant hooks. Specifically on "Hidden Knives," which is easily the best thing they've put out since "Miss Murder." AFI manage to channel their 80′s influences without becoming enslaved to them. The only true mis-steps come when they bark up the wrong tree with some of their lyric choices. Like really, who thought having Havok belt “They’re barking in the wrong key” ad nauseum on "Aurelia" made for a great hook? Then again, there are some pretty intentionally dissonant harmonies on other songs so maybe they’re just too meta for me.

While this is definitely a strong release, it’s just way too long at 14 tracks, all of which occupy a similar tempo range and a uniform lack of dynamics. This is not an album that takes you on a coherent journey, but rather a collection of solid potential singles.

The Blood Album will definitely appeal to existing fans, but if you didn’t like AFI before, you won’t start now.

Class, you are not living up to your full potential

First batch of the new year. So far, I’m not impressed.

The Flaming Lips-Oczy Mlody

0/10

One of indie-rock’s most revered--and inconsistent--groups, the Lips are decidedly in a full-fledged downturn. Their latest offering starts off by shitting on my Polish heritage using a false homophone to conjure the image of “Oxy.”

Unfortunately this is about the extent of cleverness on this completely pointless effort. With absolutely no self-awareness whatsoever, Wayne Coyne and Co. embark on a drug-filled quest so self-indulgence that would make circa-2010 Animal Collective fans blush.

Real talk, dude is as old as my dad and opens an album with a un-ironic call for the legalization of all drugs. I mean, I’m all for that, but when the end is just tripping, “edgy” lyrics, and (somehow) masculine posturing, it gets difficult to justify the means.

After their last embarrassing Fap-a-thon, 1996′s infamous Zaireeka, the Lips came back with the instant classic The Soft Bulletin. Maybe they just need another good critical thrashing.

The first two tracks are tolerable enough, but the record irrevocably jumps the shark with Reggie Watts’ deadpan monologue on “There Should be Unicorns.”It should tell you something when the best song on a record is a duet with Miley Cyrus.

Maybe the last 4 years have just been a convoluted way for Coyne to try and hit dat ass. IDK. Fuck this, I’m out.

Run The Jewels-RTJ3

4/10

I have never truly understood the hype over RTJ. It’s obvious these aren’t no talent clowns riding a trend. Except they kind of did with that fucking Meow the Jewels abomination.

More than ever tough, RTJ3 shows that El-P might be the luckiest mofo of the 2010′s and is just riding on the coattails of Killer Mike. Throughout the record, Killer Mike provides incisive political commentary while El-P just drops boring sex-raps and standard-issue braggadocio.

Even worse, RTJ themselves seem to be aware of this disconnect. On “Legend Has It” El-P gets cut off mid-brag with a female voiced STOP; “I’m fuckin’ magic, in fact I’m a warlock of talk/I got a unicorn horn for a...”

It’s too bad that the bass-heavy apocalyptic beats are wasted on these party jams, when Killer Mike obviously has a vital political screed on the level of N.W.A. or Public Enemy in him. Instead we have to hear Danny Brown tell us how high he is for the umpteenth time.

It makes my eardrums bleed.

The xx-I See You

5/10

This is the sound of a band breaking up. The xx are pulling themselves in so many directions, you’d be forgiven for thinking one of them was about to start Angels and Airwaves. I bet you my bottom dollar that Romy Croft will break off to be a Lana del Rey-like popstar, Oliver Sim will fade into obscurity, and Jaime xx will continue to soundtrack after-hours circle jerks at trendy ad agencies.

The album is a mish-mash of disparate influences that fail to coalesce into comprehensive whole. Worse still, The xx sound like they are reacting to prevailing trends, rather than ushering in a new paradigm. Namely, they toss in with the fad of breathy mezzo-soprano vocals, trop-house production, and an overbearing air of melancholy. Affected disaffection and arty pretension don't mix. I mean, they kinda do, but that's why people hate hipsters. That said, most of it is a pleasant, if forgettable listen. The only (negative) exceptions to this are Croft’s pair of mid-album ballads “Performance” and “Brave for You.” The former scans like a cloyingly ham-fisted attempt to buy relevance by playing up the mainstream-but-somehow-still-edgy revival of feminism (an admittedly necessary thing) and resulting criticism of gender roles. “Brave for You” is similarly tactless but just sounds like something that could soundtrack a particularly anti-climactic episode of Grey’s Anatomy.

If this is the cutting edge of the alternative scene, I’m just gonna keep listening to Slowdive. Skip all y’all.

Top 11 Records of 2016

Yeah, top 11. Fite me irl bruh.

I have opinions. Validate me.

* = “I wrote about this before, go scroll down and read what I wrote before you lazy sod.”

11. NOFX-First Ditch Effort (Skate-Punk/Rock) Recorded while Fat Mike was still using drugs, NOFX’s most serious effort to date tackles his impending visit to rehab, and public embrace of cross-dressing. It’s good to see the perpetually juvenile outfit take on adulthood and more introspective topics while simultaneously pushing themselves as composers.

While no one was expecting NOFX to write the next Pet Sounds, they secure their legacy by refusing to burp out the same old shit 30 years into their career. They also temper what could be maudlin or self-righteous with just the perfect dose of their screwball humor.

Unfortunately, they cross the line into the ham-fisted on the overwrought, hyper-apocalyptic and preachy album-closer “Generation Z,” which features an extended slam-poetry/spoken word outro that doesn’t scan as being all that far removed from Jonathan Larson’s brilliant piss-take of the genre in Rent. Sadly, NOFX is definitely not joking here.

10. Bayside-Vacancy (Pop-punk/Emo/Alternative)* A mall-punk tour de force. Anthony Raneri channels his inner broadway star to craft not just Bayside’s best-ever record, but one of the few worthwhile records from Warped alumni in the last few years.

9. American Football-LP2 (Emo/Post-rock/Experimental)

If the only conception you’ve ever had of emo is the swoopy-haired fad of the Hot Topic years, this the perfect record to change that perception.

After a nearly 20-year hiatus AF is back with a much more focused sound. Unlike their debut which was plagued by endless instrumental sections that diluted the song’s impact, LP2 devotes its energy to fairly conventional song structures that are boosted by layers of intricate guitar interplay.

Their debut, while influential, has been massively overrated due to their sudden disappearance and the legion of copycat artists that took their Television-on-downers guitar stylings and crafted an Emo Revival in the first part of the decade.

It’s rare that a reunion album delivers on its promise, but this is a rare exception. Definitely the prettiest record of the year.

8. Car Seat Headrest-Teens of Denial (Indie/Alternative/Rock)

Nauseatingly self-aware, clever-clever, ironic bullshit for hipster millennials who’ve never heard of my fact checking cuz. Dude probably laughs at his own jokes on the regs.

It’s also jaw-droppingly self-assured in scope and vision, not just for an indie garage-rock album, but any post-Radiohead album. Will Toledo is on some next-level shit here and he’s just getting warmed up.

The most powerful moments shine through when Toledo takes on collegiate know-it-all hippies on “Destroyed by Hippie Powers” and his own existential dread and immaturity on “The Ballad of Costa Concordia.” Another great, and all too honest, pop-hook delves into the unfortunate precautions necessary to deal with your idiot friends on “(Joe Gets Kicked out of School for Using) Drugs With Friends (But Says This Isn’t a Problem).” Spoiler: It’s Drugs.

Unfortunately, these moments of clarity are many times obscured by unnecessarily drawn-out arrangements, intentional vocal obfuscation (mumble-core anyone?), and single songs that jam two or three complete and disparate compositional ideas together rather than separating them into their own tracks.

7. Deerhoof-The Magic (Experimental/Noise/Punk)*

The first track is called “The Devil and his Anarchic Surrealistic Retinue.” That’s all I really need to tell you.

Take drugs, drink coffee, crank volume, party.

6. Joyce Manor-Cody (Emo/Alternative/Pop-punk)

On their list of the most disappointing things of 2016, Pitchfork accused Joyce Manor of sounding like Everclear on this album. I have no idea where that came from as the only similarity between the two acts are a preponderance for power chords and introspective lyrics, hardly unique characteristics in rock music.

However, Cody succeeds because it never tries to force its listener to feel anything. There’s an incredible sense of sadness and longing in this album, but it feels like someone sitting in their living room telling you stories about their life, and having all the disparate pieces fall into place.

The record gets its underdog charm from the simple but tight instrumentation. This sounds like something your friends in High School could have made, but with that extra bit of oomph that lets you know they’re going places.

I wish I had a record like this when I was 16.

5. Touche Amoré-Stage Four (Melodic Hardcore/Emo/Post-Punk)*

If you don’t cry, you: a.) Aren’t a human being, or b.) Have never lost anything or anyone close to you, so check your privilege.

4. A Tribe Called Quest-We Got it From Here...Thank You 4 Your Service (Hip-Hop/Jazz Rap)

On their first record in nearly 20 years, ATCQ give a master class in how to envelop modern sounds without devolving into tone-deaf pandering. Thus, their vintage brand of East-Coast Boom-Bap still sounds fresh, and the modern flourishes sound like an organic evolution.

For the most part, the record strikes a perfect balance between political state-of-the-nation tracks and homages to recently deceased member Phife Dawg. ATCQ make excellent use of guest artists to fill in the gaps and provide one of the most satisfyingly traditional rap records in recent memory. The only mis-step comes with the overly maudlin and un-subtle Phife Dawg tribute “The Donald.”

3. Chance The Rapper-Coloring Book (Hip-Hop/Rap/Pop)

If Kendrick Lamar’s 2015 opus To Pimp a Butterfly was the dark, tortured soul of the continuing struggle for racial equality in America, then Coloring Book is the movement’s pep talk.

Even on the somber moments of reflection, Chance never descends into pessimism. Furthermore, the party jams and love songs never feel contrived or overly sentimental. They feel like an urgent escape from a malicious world where the very act of daring to love yourself, warts and all, is a radical act.

The album also places itself in TPAB’s lineage by basing its composition heavily on gospel music, at times just outright dropping worship songs into the proceedings and littering the lyrics with religious imagery.

During many of the songs, there are ongoing backup vocals that almost play like crowd noise, giving the feeling that Chance is really just taking technicolored parade of joy through a wasteland of despair. Hell, “No Problem” almost feels like an unintentional homage to that scene in Ferris Beuller’s Day Off where he hijacks a float and leads all of Chicago in a sing-along. You just can't stop fucking smiling.

This is isn’t just a guy singing and rapping at you, he’s inviting you on a journey with him where salvation might not be dogmatic faith, but the ability to accept the blessing of life in whatever form it takes.

2. Kanye West-The Life of Pablo

If Blonde is the sound of a self-assured genius tinkering until he has the perfect, cohesive message, then TLOP is the sound of an equally talented genius slowly going insane.

Far and away his best production work, Yeezy seems content with ceding a significant amount of the spotlight to others--this conceit was explored further in his set design for the Saint Pablo tour where he usually performed in silhouette and primarily lit the audience--and this results in a slightly more disjointed product than he likely intended. Despite that, he conjures gorgeous soundscapes out of perfectly curated samples and creates an album that would be compelling even as a beat CD. Sadly, as thrilling as the backdrops are, his rapping doesn’t quite reach its potential here

Especially after his hospitalization, Yeezy seems to be in the same place he was in before dropping 2010′s masterpiece My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy. With the tide of public opinion against him, Kanye digs deep and tries to create something so brilliant that no one can doubt him.

in doing so, knowingly or not, Kanye creates one of the most honest assessments of toxic masculinity since the Violent Femmes’ debut. Not once does he attempt to sugarcoat his narcissistic behavior. In a way he’s almost a tragic figure.

It’s an eternal quest for redemption that Will Toledo (even though I backhand-complimented his band back there) explains a lot better than me. IDK.

1. Frank Ocean-Blonde (Alt-R&B/Pop/Hip-Hop)*

Art.

2016 Honorable Mentions

Here are some records I liked but didn’t love this year.

Say Anything-I Don’t Think It Is (pop-punk/emo/experimental) Surprise released in February, the latest from a re-tooled Say Anything was definitely one of the most underrated records of the year. A decidedly lo-fi affair compared to their last few maximalist efforts, I Don’t Think It Is finds Max Bemis’ at his most violently pissed off in over a decade. Features genre-hopping insanity with some guitar calisthenics from Dlyan of Tiny Moving Parts.

Megadeth-Dystopia (thrash metal) By far their best since the 90′s, the brutal riffing is unfortunately overshadowed by Dave Mustaine’s borderline racist politics and the hype behind Metallica’s bloated corpse.

Glass Animals-How To Be A Human Being (indie-tronica/alternative) A competent and cerebral slab of indie-tronica that draws heavily on 90′s ephemera. Unfortunately, it’s largely hook-less, which does a disservice to the dense, gorgeous arrangements.

Bruno Mars-24k Magic (pop) Competent and catchy yet largely unimaginative pop. Gets credit for having the good sense not to drag itself out for over an hour, and thus it ends before it can wear out its welcome.

Beach Slang-A Loud Bash of Teenage Feelings (punk/alternative/emo) The title really says it all. Life-affirming Replacements worship that gets drug down by a couple of godawful lapses in judgement.

Against Me!-Shape Shift With Me (pop-punk/rock) A crunchy power-pop record that sees AM! flirting with some of the poppier elements in their back catalog. While the arrangements may be relatively toothless, the lyrics don’t pull any punches and remain the most compelling aspect of their sound.

Milk Teeth-Vile Child (grunge/shoegaze/pop-punk) Early 90′s noise-pop revivalism with a dollop of old-school pop-punk attitude. Lead single “Brickwork” is probably my favorite song and music video of the year.

The Avalanches-Wildflower (dance/hip-hop/experimental) Plunderphonics duo return after 16-year absence with a psychedelic and more-hip-hop centered musical journey. Just too damn long.

AJJ (fka Andrew Jackson Jihad)-The Bible 2 (folk-punk/alternative) Some great songs on here, but the attempts at emotional power ballads, while possibly intended as sarcasm, just come off as ham-fisted.

Into it. Over it.-Standards (emo/alternative) Them drums tho. Definitely more interesting than most other over-hyped twinkly emo, but it’s telling when the best track sounds like a Motion City Soundtrack outtake.

Kendrick Lamar-untitlted.unmastered. (hip-hop) Definitely not an instant classic like his last two LPs, but still a very engaging release. If Kendrick’s outtakes are this good, then we’re in for a hell of a treat as his career unfolds.

Descendents-Hypercaffium Spazzinate (skate-punk/old-school pop-punk/melodic hardcore) Some albums need drugs to appreciate, this one needs coffee. Despite being older than my dad, these progenitors of skate-punk can still wipe the floor with bands half their age. Unfortunately, they simply perfect their genre, rather than push it forward.

The 1975-I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it (pop) A great pop record full of 90′s production quirks that’s just a bit too long. The expertly crafted hooks and arrangements get bogged down by bloated ambient interludes in the mid-section of the record.

Whitney-Light Upon The Lake (soft rock/folk/pop) 70′s soft-rock revivalists made up of former members of Smith Westerns and Unknown Mortal Orchestra channel The Band and Dylan for a perfectly pleasant trip down memory lane. This group has potential.

Starflyer 59-Slow (shoegaze/post-punk) Jason Matin revisits SF59′s noisy, post-punk inspired 90′s days in a short but engaging release. A major improvement over 2013′s underwhelming iamaceo, Slow leans more New Order than mbv. The record plays as a haunting treatise on aging that never descends into “woe is me” navel-gazing.

Beartooth-Aggressive (metalcore/rock) Definitely my guilty pleasure of the year. Meh lyrics, generic song structures, but somehow it works. Kinda like Andrew W.K.

Real Friends-The Home Inside My Head (pop-punk) Picks up where The Wonder Years left off in 2011. RF still keep things pop-punk without veering into straight up emo.

Tiny Moving Parts-Celebrate (skramz/emo/pop-punk) By far the most accessible outing from Minnesota’s finest, TMP make a concentrated effort to tone down their spastic roots and write actual choruses. The results, while less than spectacular, definitely position them to be emo’s next breakout act on their next album cycle. Twinkle might finally go nuclear.

December 18 2016

And they don’t stop coming and they don’t stop coming and they do

Bon Iver-22, A Million

6/10

The new Bonny Bear is the sound of an admittedly talented artist starting to believe their own hype.

The album isn’t all that much of push forward from 2011′s stellar self-titled record. The major difference now is that Justin Vernon’s once-unique, now standard-issue, falsetto is couched over a bed of largely electronic instrumentation, rather than a maximalist full band.

Worse, the mediocre production renders the music flat and lacking in dynamics, causing the record to feel like one long song. Additionally, the absolute gibberish of song titles and pseudo-psychedelic artwork lends the entire endeavor an air of inescapable pretension.

There’s nothing truly, objectively wrong with this record, but after a decade of his already-played-out-in-2007 neo-folk schtick being ripped off by indie wannabes and co-opted by “artsy” pop and hip-hop artists, who really gives a shit anymore? Apparently a lot of people, but I just don’t get it.

This is the indie rock equivalent of the last Blink-182 record. A (sort of) solid album from a (kind of) trailblazing band that has been eclipsed by a new generation that built on and re-defined their initial sound during a five-year absence.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s perfectly enjoyable for what it is, I just don’t get the hype.

No standout tracks cuz I’m not formatting that bullshit.

Pixies-Head Carrier

6/10

A damn sight better than 2014′s awful Indie Cindy, Head Carrier marks Pixies’ first full-length outing sans founding bassist/vocalist Kim Deal. In her place is former A Perfect Circle member Paz Lenchantin, who sounds like a female Henry Rollins, stoked as hell that she’s in her favorite band.

Unfortunately she seems to be the only one sharing the enthusiasm. It seems like Pixes didn’t realize how quirky they were the first time around, and now, after spending a decade (longer than their initial existence) as a nostalgia act, they’re trying to re-capture that naivety. It also doesn’t help that the incessant nostalgia touring pissed away whatever goodwill they had built up in their absence.

Similarly to the kid in middle school who tried super hard to be funny after accidentally doing something hilarious once, Pixies’ dark whimsy only works without the two decades of outside validation. I hate to sound like the hipster asshole ripping on people for being try-hards, but that’s kind of the case here.

There are some delightful moments here, almost all due to Lenchantin, but not enough to really justify viewing them as anything more than a careerist legacy act at this point.

Standout Tracks: Head Carrier Classic Masher All I Think About Now

Green Day-Revolution Radio

5/10

When Green Day is on their game, they’re pretty much untouchable. But when they’re off, hooooooooo boy, it’s like seeing your dad blackout drunk with his hand down his pants at a nightclub trying to pick up girls young enough to be your little sister.

Anyway, this is the album Green Day should have made after American Idiot. The record keeps in the motif of political upheaval intact without turning into the melodramatic circle jerk of 21st Century Breakdown, or the tuneless abortion of Uno, Dos, Tré.

Unfortunately, there is very little here that isn’t being done better by other Pop-Punk bands. The sad stuff doesn’t hold up to Alkaline Trio, the political screeds are bested by Against Me!, and even Blink-182 still writes better pop hooks.

That said, there are a few memorable singles, and nothing tasteless enough to justify shutting it off mid-listen. However, I doubt anything other than "Bang Bang" (which might be the least catchy lead single I’ve heard in some time), "Still Breathing," and maybe "Youngblood" will remain in the live set after this tour cycle is complete.

Standout Tracks: Revolution Radio Still Breathing Youngblood Too Dumb to Die Forever Now

Metallica-Hardwired...To Self-Destruct

3/10

It’s fucking Metallica. Y’all know how that shit sounds, and you know if you like it or not, so nothing I write here is going to change your mind. So here’s what I think in list form. The Good: -Some of these riffs are P #lit fam -Oh hot dayum dat bass on ManUNkind -Kirk learned how to not wah on got damn everything, striking a nice middle ground between the shred-happy 80′s and the bluesy Load/Re-load era -Oh hot dayum dat bass on Spit Out the Bone -James’ voice sounds pretty good still

The Bad: -Lars is somehow still employed -Many songs are too slow to really thrash, but too fast to do anything melodic or dynamically interesting -That fucking album art -IT STILL FUCKING CLIPS -The lyrics; pointless nihilism, cloying techno-babble, played-out mythical shit, and tough-guy posturing

I still say St. Anger is their best post-AJFA release because: 1. It was not a transparent attempt to court crossover success (The Black Album). 2. It was actually metal. 3. They finally broke ranks from the aforementioned lyrical clichés and continued to give zero fucks about fan or commercial expectations. 4. Most importantly, for the first and probably last time since AJFA, they sounded like they had something to prove.

Whatever, it’s Metallica. Nothing Else Matters.

November 2, 2016

Yeah yeah, these are over a month old. Bite me. I’m tryna catch up here.

Beach Slang-A Loud Bash of Teenage Feelings

6/10

Well, this definitely wins the award for “2016′s Most Honest Album Title.”

Beach Slang lives in largely the same territory as Japandroids, The Replacements, and even the more life-affirming moments of 90′s Org-core. Unfortunately, they do little to really distinguish themselves from the pseudo lo-fi, drunken odes to friendship and LIFE and LOVE and YOUTH that these other groups have done so masterfully.

Overbearing derivation aside, it’s also glaring obvious that Beach Slang really means every word they snarl out since it would be very easy to read this album as an aging hipster’s adventure in unintentional self-parody since frontman James Alex is already pushing 40 (and we all know that earnestness and sincerity are the cardinal sins of the post-modern era).

Aside from the awful closing track, that never happens.

Standout Tracks:

Future Mixtape For the Art Kids Spin the Dial Wasted Daze of Youth The Perfect High

Against Me!-Shape Shift With Me

7/10

2014′s Transgender Dysphoria Blues reclaimed them from the critical rubbish heap with their most righteously pissed record to date. Unfortunately AM!’s latest is a tentative step back into the glossy pop of White Crosses and New Wave. It ultimately settles somewhere between the latter and 2005′s Searching For a Former Clarity.

After such a ferocious rebirth, Against Me! seem relatively toothless here with exception of a couple tracks. Granted it’s all fairly enjoyable except for the hideously out of place opening track “Provision-L3″ that doesn’t remotely match the tone or tempo of the rest of the record.

Standout Tracks:

Crash Boyfriend 333 Rebecca Suicide Bomber

Preoccupations (fka Viet Cong)-S/T

1/10

I didn’t realize Interpol changed their name. And damn, losing Carlos D really fucked them over didn’t it?

The difference between Beach Slang and Preoccupations is that the latter doesn’t even pretend to motion toward sincerity. Both bands borrow and borderline plagiarize their influences, but at least Beach Slang has the decency to try to be original and imbue their work with a sense of humor and personality.

Instead with Preoccupations we have a bunch of cooler-than-thou hipster fuckbags who think wearing that Joy Division shirt and reading that one chapter of Nietzsche in High School makes them deep.

The only people who would like this shit are so obsessed with self-righteous flagellation and navel-gazing that they think that chanting the (oh so) profound realization that “we’re all gonna die” is somehow insightful.

Either that, or they were too young to remember the last time the alternative scene was overrun by sad 80′s clones in the early aughts and legitimately think this is original.

Preoccupations are a shit rip-off of Interpol who were just a shit rip-off of Joy Division and Gang of Four’s evil love child.

It gets one point because the bridge of “Memory” is kinda pretty. Even though you could fool me into thinking it was a New Order b-side.

Taking Back Sunday-Tidal Wave

5/10

If you’ve been keeping up with Adam Lazzara’s recent interviews, he’s been making quite a to-do about his dissatisfaction with his group’s inevitable lumping-in with the emo bin. Even going so far as to label all music “emo” since art necessarily comes from a place of emotion.

Unsurprisingly, the reunited TBS has spent the last 5 years and 3 albums trying to buck the genre tag and dismissal as a mere nostalgia act.

Tidal Wave definitely plays like a record made by seasoned veterans with something new to prove, which makes make for a great break from other 90′s/00′s band of a similar scene that have long since reverted to clock punching. TBS pushes themselves in terms of arrangements and vocal styling, finding the middle ground between their old sound and a more earnest Gaslight Anthem influenced brand of heartland rock. In particular, it’s nice to hear some real basslines for the first time since Matt Rubano’s firing.

I honestly wouldn’t surprised to see these on the bill for The Fest in a few years.

Unfortunately, a solid re-invention album is marred by a sickeningly sappy closing track that straight up plaigarizes Coldplay’s “Politik.” The melody, rhyme scheme, and even a substantial amount of the lyrics are identical. They might even be in the same key, but I’m too fucking lazy to figure that out. Here’s TBS’ “I’ll Find a Way to Make it What You Want”:

Give me time and give me strength Give me all that you can take Give me time and give me soul Exercise your self control Take only what you think you need Unannounced and suddenly Make it seem you're making way Give me more than I can take

And here’s Coldplay:

Give me time and give me space Give me real, don't give me fake Give me strength, reserve control Give me heart and give me soul Give me time, give us a kiss Tell me your own politik

Give me one, cause one is best In confusion, confidence Give me piece of mind and trust Don't forget the rest of us

Just for that, I’m dropping this from a 7 or 8, to a 5. I can’t find any mention of this in interviews, and I can’t think of a way that such an allusion would lend maturity or artistic credibility since Coldplay are probably the most (undeservedly) maligned bands out there right now. Even on it’s own, the Coldplay lyric doesn’t tie into the overall themes explored on the TBS release.

Bad form guys.

Standout Tracks

Tidal Wave Fences All ExcessI Felt It Too Call Come Running

Touché Amoré-Stage Four

10/10

Stage Four's title takes an double meaning that cuts to the heart of its substance. First, it's TA's fourth full length album which brings with it a marked compositional and stylistic shift, second, it refers to the highest stage of cancer diagnosis. Thematically, the album is response to frontman Jeremy Bolm's mother's death from the disease, while he was on stage, in 2014.

From an instrumental standpoint, TA have begun to incorporate some post-punk influences into their sound with descending into parody or undignified hero worship. This style comes to the fore on "Benediction" where Bolm also showcases his newfound predilection for clean singing in his natural baritone register.

And in a noticeable shift from ...Is Survived By, TA have also switched up their guitar stylings. Rather than Wall-of-Sound bashing, they've evolved into cleaner (in terms of both tone and execution) interlocking patterns that provide a lush melodic bed, without getting so twinkly that the band loses any verve.

As for lyrics, Stage Four operates in much the same realm as Sun Kil Moon's 2014 release, Benji, by turning the intensely personal into the universal. At one point, Bolm namechecks Benji, claiming that one its tracks, "I Can't Live Without my Mother's Love," is just too hard to hear anymore.

Rather than speak in amorphous metaphors so in a vain attempt to fit the listener’s experience, they both give heart-rending details, so that the story can only be theirs.

By dissecting his pain with near-academic precision, Bolm crafts an almost theological discussion of faith and its efficacy in an unjust world.

Stage Four’s beauty comes from its ability expose a raw soul and the anger it feels when confronted with existential crisis without ever devolving into preachiness or woe-is-me whining.

It is ultimately a call to life, and a red-eyed, foaming at the mouth embrace of it.

It will drain you, and make you feel ashamed for ever wasting a day again.

Blond(e)-Frank Ocean

10/10

Is it possible for an album as endlessly hyped as Frank Ocean’s latest to be viewed with even slightest semblance of objectivity? I don’t really know, I guess I can try. The reason I took so long to write this review, was that I needed to create some space between the record and the hype leading up to it.

But I suppose the first thing I need to answer is why this album? What makes this one a perfect 10?

Back in 1994, The Source broke their, at the time, hard rule of not giving out perfect scores for Nas’ Illmatic, explaining that “we are not only saying that a particular piece of music is superior to everything that is out now, but it will be better than most things released in the future as well.” Blonde sounds like nothing else. It can’t be played on the radio, it can’t be played in the club, it can’t be played during headline slots at overpriced festivals without having its beauty destroyed by idiot kids more concerned with the bass drops in the Sahara Tent.

Most of the songs don’t even have choruses or drums. Unlike Drake, or Justin Timberlake, or Beyonce who have made waves for releasing supposedly anti-commercial albums, Frank Ocean doesn’t even bother to tack on a few radio bangers that can be blasted ad infinitum to drive unit shifting. For that reason, Blonde’s staying is power will be boosted since it won’t have to deal with a legacy of being over-played and re-mixed and super-bowled to death. It and it’s creator just are, and then they aren’t. They slip back into the ether from whence they came.

Frank Ocean has made an album that demands total investment, despite releasing it almost exclusively via streaming, the single most ephemeral form of media. There are no real singles, but also precious little filler. It must be consumed fully, not piecemeal. It weaves in and out of your head like beautiful vivd dream that you can’t quite recall in the morning but still cling to.

This duality of the fixed and the fleeting manifests itself elsewhere in the album’s imagery. The title itself, “blond” on the album cover, “blonde” everywhere else. The juxtaposition of traditional masculine and feminine spellings could be an allusion to Ocean’s bisexuality, a theme he occasionally touches on throughout the album.

However, the ultimate duality in Ocean’s world is the tension between his newfound fame and fortune, and the gaping hole in his heart aching to be filled with requited love and an existential reason to be.

On the opening track “Nikes,” Frank starts out by telling off a potential gold digger in typical rap-star fashion, and shouts out the dead (A$AP Yams, Pimp C, Trayvon Martin) in the only overtly political moment on the record. Afterwards, he immediately delves into his feelings of loss.

The ballad “Self-Control” puts these feelings out at their most explicit. By distilling the emotional crux of the record into 4-minutes of minimal guitar and swirling vocals, playing like a mournful version of Justin Beiber’s “Love Yourself,” Ocean tells the story of confessing his love to a male friend, only to hear that the feeling was not mutual.

As Frank encounters more internal turmoil, he fixes his gaze outward. By the end of the record, he seems to have made peace with his scars of rejection, materialism, and social isolation. By making use of a heavily edited interview by his cousin, Ocean conjures the fleeting past and a sense child-like naivety to end the record.

By ending Blonde asking “How far is a light-year?” he hearkens back to “White Ferrari,” the thematic center of the album, when he argues with his lover “I’m sure we’re taller in other dimensions\you say we’re small and not worth the mention.”

In the context of the earlier parts of the track, Ocean is referring to to the end of a relationship and the loss, or lack thereof, felt by the involved parties. However, a line later in the song suggests that he is quite literally dreaming of a different plane beyond the physical world; “You dream of walls that hold us in prison\it’s just a skull, least that’s what they call it.”

The theme of duality is even expanded upon in the track’s title. “White,” universally understood as a symbol of innocence and purity, and “Ferrari,” a symbol of wealth, materialism, and nihilistic hedonism. Taken together, they symbolize Ocean’s journey from materialistic burnout, to a neo-Platonic desire to escape to the world of the forms.

By focusing on the mundane, the material, even the relationships of this world, Ocean feels that he is trapped in a rut. It’s not enough to just find inner peace, a new breakthrough in consciousness is needed.

Album closer, “Futura Free,” plays like a major-key version of “Nikes.” A pitch-shifted caricature tells an (albeit much more cheerful) anecdote of materialistic success in the wake of newfound fame, and then Frank’s unaltered voice returns to ground himself in reality. Instead, rather than expose a soul full of torment, he leaves a final transmission of gratitude to those who have supported him and the life he has achieved before leaving us for the next plane on the chain of being.

How far is a light year? As far as Frank can take us in an hour.

Frank Ocean is Starchild, and Blonde is A Space Odyssey for the internet generation.

One Starman leaves, and another is born.

September 18th 2016

And the lord said let there be music. And there was. It was mostly aight.

Glass Animals-How To Be a Human Being: 8/10

While GA’s second LP doesn’t completely re-invent the electro/indie-pop wheel it inherited from Alt-J and Wild Beasts (and Vampire Weekend before them), there’s still enough going to warrant more than a passing aural glance.

The instrumental arrangements are mind-blowing in their complexity and attention to detail, mood, and atmospherics. In particular, the perfectly nostalgia-inducing “Season 2 Episode 3” which sounds like a bunch of 8-bit video game scores jammed together. At times, Glass Animals seem to be challenging the very concept of a rock band by seamlessly slipping between eastern styles and hip-hop/r&b.

There are also myriad sneaky references to the last 25 years of pop culture, most notably the “Under the Bridge” rip-off “Take a Slice.” However, it’s obvious this is an intentional artistic conceit, rather than lazy songwriting. By littering the record with samples and allusions GA craft a compelling and cutting view of the post-modern numbness (self) inflicted upon millennials.

Unfortunately, the lyrics and vocal delivery are just too listless to bring this otherwise clever and thoughtful, if slightly on-the-nose, record to life.

A Day To Remember-Bad Vibrations: 4/10

At least the fight riffs are plentiful and sufficiently ignorant. Everything else is cookie-cutter schlock rock.

What a shame that one of the Warped scene’s most promising bands has fallen so far.

Standout Tracks: Bad Vibrations Exposed

Angel Olsen-My Woman: 6/10

Moderately engaging twee garage rock. The first half of the album plays like Best Coast if they followed the path of their first album and dropped the air of insufferable calculation.

Unfortunately the goodwill generated by the first five tracks is squandered by a second half loaded with interminable sad-sack ballads. Two tracks break the 7-minute mark, and all five side-B tracks break 4 minutes, but none except for maybe “Heart Shaped Face” have enough going on to justify their run-time.

It also doesn’t help that there are plenty of other artists of the same demographic (Julien Baker, Waxahatchee, and Torres all come to mind) doing the whole sad-girl thing, and beating the boys at their own game, without falling into the trap of self-indulgence and sacrificing immediacy for overwrought “emotional depth.”

The first 5 tracks would be a great EP. Too bad.

Standout Tracks: Never Be Mine Shut Up Kiss Me Give it Up Heart Shaped Face

Norma Jean-Polar Similar: 6/10

Too high-concept to just be written off, its pretension is in still in no way justified by the bland arrangements. It’s Converge, Botch, or DEP for people too dumb or lazy to understand those bands.

Having incomprehensible interludes named “I. The Planet,” “II. The People,” and so on, does not make you deep. Standout Tracks: 1,000,000 Watts Synthetic Sun Reaction

September 5th 2016

ayyyyyyyyylmaooooooo wutz gucci? Nothing? Meh. Here’s some reviews I guess.

Bayside-Vacancy: 9/10

Let’s play a game. I’m going to say a few words/phrases, and you’re going to react to them.

Emo.

Warped Tour.

Around about 15 years.

Pop-punk.

Hot Topic.

Triple Divorcée.

Taken as a whole, the unconverted would read the above as an indicator of some over-the-hill, irrelevant 40-somethings desperately trying to re-live the fleeting vitality they had in 2003. And while I hate snobs, I might not blame them.

So THANK FUCK that Bayside have managed to stay out of that rut. I’ve never been the biggest fan, but they always stuck out from the crowd due mostly to Anthony Raneri’s unique vocal stylings. His voice is too bluesy and mature to fit in with the rest of the overly nasal ‘crooners’ of his generation, (New Found Glory, I’m looking directly at you) and is coupled with an unconventional sense of harmony and phrasing.

On their seventh album, Bayside tackle the subject of Raneri’s most recent divorce, who wrote the songs whilst living in a motel and dealing with divestment process.

Mercifully, the borderline misogynistic revenge fantasy days of “Existing in a Crisis” are long behind Bayside, and instead what emerges instead is a surprisingly mature and level-headed affair predictably spearheaded by Raneri’s knack for verbose melodicism and unconventional chord changes (as far as pop-punk goes).

At multiple times throughout the record, I can’t help but thinking that Anthony Raneri might have unintentionally written the best musical of 2016. The seeming alternation between vitriolic anger at his (again) former spouse, and unflinching introspection already have the basic skeleton of song cycle. Tracks like “I’ve Been Dead All Day,” “Pretty Vacant,” and “It’s Not as Depressing as it Sounds” would not sound out of place in rock musical with some call-and-responses and major-third harmonies. Raneri’s voice would even sound right at home singing “One Song Glory” or any one Roger's songs from Rent.

Very few artists, especially in this genre, put as much thought into sequencing as they should, and here is a welcome exception. By the end of the record, Raneri sounds tired of his constant domestic strife, and wonders aloud if happieness is even in the cards for him. Throwing “It’s Not as Depressing...” on at the begining of the record would have stunted the emotional arc of the narrative. You can’t give up on the third track, if you have a forty-minute journey laid out for your listener.

On the instrumental side of things, Bayside have always taken bluesier, classic-rock-type approach with harmonized guitars and actual solos. Unfortunately, this hasn’t really varied over the course of their career. It would be gravy if the instrumental arrangements took as many chances as the vocal arrangements. If Bayside experimented with some unconventional instrumentation, they could have pulled off pop-punk/emo’s best stab at the carnivalesque since MCR or the first two P!ATD records.

Still, while their peers (NFG, Yellowcard, Hawthorne Heights, Saosin, etc.) have reverted to clock-punching and touring on nostalgia, Bayside still sound like they’re just getting warmed up.

Hopefully, they’ll get the recognition they deserve with this one.

AJJ (fka Andrew Jackson Jihad)-The Bible 2: 7/10

For their first album after dropping the “ndrew,” “ackson,” and “ihad” from their name, AJJ continue to push themselves forward into a more straight-ahead rock styling. Gone (almost) are the acoustic guitars, upright basses and mandolins of their early folk-punk days. If anything, they are moving towards a fuzzed-out sadboi sound not at all dissimilar to a much more melodic (and frankly listenable) version of PUP.

Anyway, AJJ’s appeal has always wrapped up in Sean Bonette’s profane, profound, misanthropic, and borderline nihilistic lyrics. As expected with such an approach, the results are hit-or-miss, but still mostly hit.

While they never reach the heart-rending extremes of “Big Bird,” or “People II: The Reckoning” or the irreverent hilarity of “Inner-city Basehead History Teacher,” and “The Michael Jordan of Drunk Driving,” The Bible 2 still makes for a good listen.

Standout Tracks: Cody’s Theme American Garbage No More Shame, No More Fear, No More Dread White Worms When I’m a Dead Boy

Russian Circles-Guidance: 7/10

New album from this all-instrumental heavy outfit avoids descent into self-indulgence by paying more attention to tones, spaces, and atmosphere. I wouldn’t be surprised if they spent a week just getting the drum sound dialed. Never once do they compete to see who can jam in the most notes-per-second.

There are really no standout tracks since it’s meant to be listened to straight through in one shot.

FFO: Stoner metal, Sludgy shit

Dinosaur Jr.-Give a Glimpse of What Yer Not: 4/10

If the Foo Fighters smoked too much weed and made an emo record, it would sound like this.

At it’s brief best, there are traces of Teenage Fanclub’s Power-pop, but it won’t convince any skeptics.

Standout Tracks: I Walk for Miles Lost All Day Knocked Around Left/Right

Arbitrary Decree

I’m changing the way I do reviews, cuz fuck you, it’s my blog and I do what I want.

Starting with the next installment, I’m only going to write full reviews for albums that i find exceptional, or spectacularly awful. Specifically, I will only write actual reviews for albums rated from 0-3 or 8-10.

Mediocre records will get a few snarky sentences if I fell like it. Otherwise I’ll just give a rating and if you don’t like it you can fight me irl.

Sorry, this is my secondary hobby and I ain’t getting paid for it, so I can only devote so much time and still publish stuff semi-regularly.

August 23rd 2016

Here we go again: Gucci Mane-Everybody Looking: 6/10

It’s Gucci time again.

It’s easy to root for Gucci Mane since this album is a comeback in the most literal sense of the word. After his well-documented drug addiction and legal troubles (he was released from prison in May after serving two years on a weapons charge) one would be forgiven for expecting a penitent Gucci.

Thankfully this is not the case. While Gucci spends plenty of time expressing his status as a recovering drug addict, no one would ever mistake this record for a motivational speech.

Since he no longer has lean to compose odes to, Gucci doubles down on the sex, money, and violence inherent in trap rap. And it’s a great trick; the nihilistic debauchery and braggadocio was just as thrilling as it was in 1988 when N.W.A. invented gangsta rap. (Not the same thing, but whatever, fuck you.)

The best moments of the record come from the most hilariously overblown tracks like “Pussy Print” and “Pop Music.” Kanye West guests on the former track and this contrast is really what sets Yeezy apart from other rappers.

Kanye, unlike Gucci, takes his own cult of personality seriously, whereas other rappers seem to realize the whole thing is kind of a joke. Like seriously, look at Gucci’s lyrics on “Pop Music,” you can’t read it with a straight face. While it makes the violence tolerable, and even fun, it renders the MC a less compelling character. This is why Everybody Looking ultimately falls short. Gucci’s personality is too thin to last across the length of an entire album. Serious figures like Kanye are more compelling character studies, and groups like N.W.A. benefit from the multiple personalities inherent in a group setting in order to hold a listener’s interest. Gucci’s one-dimensional persona just can’t hold up, even with maximalist production that even sounds expensive.

The record is just too damn long, and doesn’t have enough features to balance out Gucci Mane’s limited abilities and personality.

Periphery-Periphery III: Select Difficulty: 8/10

Not a DOOM expansion, just a prog metal record.

Periphery has always been lumped in with Warped Tour Metalcore bands and that scene’s bastard little cousin, djent. Fortunately, they’re too smart to let themselves get pigeonholed into that niche.

Like August Burns Red, Periphery has managed to transcend the angsty, faux-edgy scene that spawned them by focusing on pushing the boundaries of the genre both in terms of technical experimentation and refusing to shy away from pop hooks. Pianos and orchestrations also serve nicely to provide mood shifts and a chance for the listener to pause for breath.

In a genre stereotyped for valuing brutality over all else, the vocals are the driving force behind the compositions. Even on their earlier work Periphery seemed to treat vocals as an afterthought. Despite this, the lyrics still occasionally venture dangerously close to angsty teen working at Hot Topic territory.

Another highlight is the bass-driven “Absolomb.” It’s honestly the filthiest riff I’ve heard since QOTSA dropped “Turnin’ on the Screw.”

The roughly 70/30 split of clean singing to screaming makes this album an ideal entry point for the unconverted to the prog metal genre, but with an average song length of 6 minutes, it can still be tad unwieldy.

Nonetheless, Perihpery find the sweet spot between the radio rock/metal of Bring Me The Horizon (”Catch Fire” in particular) and the disorienting crucible of The Dillinger Escape Plan’s mathcore, which makes this an essential listen for any fan of heavy music.

The Bouncing Souls-Simplicity: 5/10

Just like their namesake Doc Martens, The Bouncing Souls are an institution that remains largely unchanged from its formative years.

Subscribing to the truth-in-advertising ideology the Souls most certainly keep it simple on this record. The front half the album is filled with the 90′s style skate-punk the band has always been known for, and the back half has longer, slower. maudlin ballads. Only “Digital Twilight Zone” has any verve, and even that is a woefully late-to-the-party lament for all those durned kids and their smartphones.

Unfortunately, unlike the Descendents, the Souls haven’t really figured how to age gracefully. When they do the fast punk thing, they come off like curmudgeons, or an unflattering dad band, and worse is the downright sappy attempt at reflection that ends the record.

While I feel like a dick shitting on someone for doing what they obviously love, there is really just no need for The Bouncing Souls' continued existence in 2016, especially seeing as they were never that relevant to begin with.

Descendents-Hypercaffium Sapzzinate: 9/10

On their first album since 2004′s Cool to Be You, the inventors of pop-punk show us all how it’s done again.

Unlike the aforementioned Bouncing Souls, Descendents still sound like they have something to prove, rather than nothing better to do with themselves.

Over the course of the album, Descendents indulge their nostalgia and question how the world has changed (for better or worse) and how some things are still stuck in the 80′s.

Never an overtly political act, this time around the coffee junkies tackle toxic masculinity, and religious fundamentalism. On the former subject, they seem to empathize, if not agree with, both sides of the argument. On “Testosterone,” they bemoan the macho-dipshit culture that plagued/plagues the hardcore . But even here, Milo is cognizant of the fact that if a man wants to fit in in the modern world, they will have play along with sick game to some extent.

On “Limter,” the Descendents take issue with the over-diagnosis of children, particularly boys, with developmental and learning disorders when they are already subject to a school system that’s set up from the get go to fail them.*

Also unlike The Bouncing Souls, Descendents’ nostalgic tendencies are tempered with a sense of self-awareness. One cut, “No Fat Burger,” combines two classic Descendents songs, “No FB” and “I Like Food” to comment on the inevitable need for the infamous gluttons to take care of themselves. It’s just a part of getting old. They can see their own flaws and the humor therein, rather than just whining about their irrelevance.

As an instrumental unit, Descendents are as tight as it gets. Bill Stevenson and Stephen Egerton are locked in a groove, while bassist Karl Alvarez drives home the melody. On many songs, the bass seems to be the lead instrument, while the guitar merely keeps a tonal center. People like to talk about Mike Dirnt or Fat Mike being the greatest punk bassists, but neither would’ve know where to start if it weren’t for the work of Tony Lombardo and the aforementioned Alvarez. 40 years in and they’re still going for ALL. *William Pollack wrote an excellent, if dated, book on the subject entitled Real Boys: Rescuing Our Sons From the Myths of Boyhood. I'll loan it to ya.

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