The Love Language - Ruby Red

A Raleigh, NC band that I previously have no connection with kick things off right. A stirring backbeat that's an immediate dance instigator, "Calm Down" feels like Arcade Fire covering "Just Like Heaven".

 

From there it's more of the same cacophonous indie rock. The mixture of guitars, drums and layered vocals are always pushed into the red. Even on the mid-tempos, The Love Language doesn't leave an ounce of silence in the mix. Either a bedrock of keyboards layers things over, or some actual horns are peppered in.

 

Unfortunately, the band never matches the energy of that first track. In my head, Stuart McLamb as a frontman is too subdued. The layered vocals/sounds may be there to mask his overt mellowness. And lyrically, everything is muddled to much in the mix to tell if there's a song to singalong to. "On Our Heels" is an example of one that could have been a fun '80s pop throwback, but goes back into modern indie rock chamber echo.

 

The closer, "Pilot Light" is more epic in feel. So it earns is over distorted sound. A Christmas-y feel with chimes and bells mixed in with its horns and strings. It's probably a rallying cry for the gathering of friends. But the album as a whole left to big a hole in the middle of its intro and end. The filled that space with a lotta sound and too little of memorable songs. (2.5 of 5 stars)

 

Philip H. Anselmo & The Illegals - Walk Through Exits Only

Phil Anselmo is a heavy dude. So, after recovering from back surgery and getting a little soft in the middle, he picks himself up, brushes himself off and gets his extreme scream on.

This record is not the power metal of Pantera, nor the groovier side of Down. This is more the extreme thrash of Superjoint Ritual. And for many, that's as far as you'll have to read. They'll already know that the record will be hard to listen to. No choruses, no melodies, no mosh-circle breakdowns.

All true, but there's still some quality of course. The opening track is the most ambitious. Running through with a frenetic march beat, "Music Media Is My Whore" stays true to its lyric

"The rise of authentic anti-music
Unearthly timbers and ominous sonorities
Relentless, iterated non-melody
A shuddering original unlike anything that has come before"

From there, the band stays more traiditional to the thrash style, while Phil keeps screaming about overcoming those who try to fuck him. The title track is probably the best example to sum up the whole album. But with as many different sounds as Phil gets with different projects, I would be interested in seeing an album collection with more of those sounds. (3 of 5 stars)

Jay-Z - Magna Carta... Holy Grail

For some reason, I've been listening to a lot of rap lately. Weird. Also, I wasn't really impressed with other new releases from this week, so why not listen to the biggest. I do love the first single, which also happens to be the first track...

"Holy Grail", of course, is the hit song with the great Timberlake hook about the trappings of fame which ups the dynamic of the lyric by writing in an abusive woman that you you can't help but loving. This remains the best song on the record.

What follows is a a series of tunes about being rich, which is fine. But seriously, there's even a song called "Ocean", featuring Frank Ocean, which is about yachting. I mean it's enough that I try to relate to a black city hustler, now I have to add on a burden of a boat captain? The beats are there, the rap is there, but I won't be attaching to anything in it.

An exception lies in "Heaven"; a mellow track where Jay-Z contemplates the afterlife, shits on men of faith here on earth, and declares himself both prophet and God. Fuck a humble brag. There's also an obligatory romantic duet with lovely wife Beyoncé. And the obligatory new-dad song to daughter, Blue.

So, outside of that tasty opening track, there's not a lot that I could recommend about MCHG.It's decent, but don't expect it to get your party moving or your ride down the street. (2.5 of 5 stars)

Deap Vally - Sistrionix

Another drum/guitar duo à la White Stripes or Japandroids - only this time with two chicks. Let me start by telling you what they're not.

There's no Black Keys retro blues. this is garage rock. DV is also much more deliberately timed and groovy, unlike the upbeat rah-rah punkiness of Japandroids. You'll get a old school first White Stripes album feel, but clearly guitarist Lindsay lacks the chops or lyrical wordplay of even a young Jack White.

Vocally, Lindsay can roam from a Sleater-Kinney scream to a Geddy Lee screech to sometimes a more Alabama Shakes soul wail when she tries ("Six Feet Under"), but usually- they keep it sleazy and in the basement. I'd be quickest to compare the two to Band Of Skulls with a less-classic-rock songwriting structure.

I'm giving the biggest props for this record to Lars Stalfors. An engineer/producer for Mars Volta, the sound of these two is really fucking sick. The drums echo like Bonham's and the guitar fuzzes like the best of 1972. And the drummer Julie is a quality beatsmith. The song structure doesn't often give her a chance to shine, but "Lies" below is a good example of what she's capable of.

While this will probably be the best time live that many girls will be able to account for, (girls give girl musicians a lot more credit than girl musicians deserve sometimes), I'm still holding back my review here. The record suffers from first-timer's simple youth songwriting. And I'd like to see Lindsay develop her voice and playing. Either that or develop one and hire a third to cover. Whatever happened to that girl from Be Your Own Pet? (3 of 5 stars)