BLONDE REDHEAD
23


The number 23 has an occult reputation as representing change, chaos and disintegration, probably gained from its hexagram in the I Ching epitomizing disorder. Appropriately, this is the title taken by New York art rockers Blonde Redhead for their seventh album, which marks a shift by the band to a higher profile, more approachable sound that will probably result in more sales and new fans. The album itself was initially self produced, but the band supposedly lost sight of whatever demons they were channeling and they brought in the big guns midway through in the form of U2 wizard Alan Moulder, who bewitches the album with trickery fans of his prior works will be pleased with. 23 is a fantastic mix of murky, Depeche Mode-type electronic elements and phased, far off guitars that make Blonde Redhead sound like a gorgeous, updated shoegazer act. The title track opens the album with My Bloody Valentine string work and thunderous drums that roll in the distance while Kazu Makino’s vocals shift like rain drenched ghosts in the foreground. “The Dress” sounds vaguely like a Wire track with an odd, mechanical melody and rattling pianos that somehow disquiet and comfort at the same time. “The Publisher” is a moody and melancholy rant against misunderstanding (or is it misrepresentation?) with a chorus that deserves to rock stadiums. Lush, dark and magical, 23 has a rare style and sound that begs the listener to consent just a little to allow the full extent of its rapture to begin.





FEIST
The Reminder


Leslie Feist may not as yet be a household name, but she’s definitely paid her dues in the music industry, and it shows on The Reminder. Having made her entrance playing guitar for indie rockers By Divine Right, she released a debut solo album in 1999 to limited acclaim. She later honed her craft playing with Broken Social Scene and got her stage persona in check touring Europe with her roommate, electro raunch artist, Peaches. All this prepared her for her more mature solo efforts, including a praised second album, Let It Die in 2004, and this, her third work.

Produced by Canadian keyboard player Jason Charles Beck, better known as Gonzales, The Reminder is a solid collection of freak folk, melancholy ballads and thoughtful songs of loss that prove unpretentious and astute. She possesses a quiet power in her tender voice somewhat reminiscent of Sarah McLachlan. Though some of the ballads can drag a bit, “The Water” has a smoky mystery that sounds like it’s emanating from a piano in the shadowy corner of a 1930s speakeasy. The more upbeat folk rock numbers, like “Past in Present” have a flint-edged honesty that’s hard not to like. In “My Moon My Man” she betrays a road weariness, breathing cryptic phrases like, “My moon and me / Not as good as we’ve been / it’s the dirtiest clean I know” in a silky voice, sexy as hell. A memorable release from an artist to watch.