FOUNTAINS OF WAYNE
Traffic and Weather / Virgin

Over the course of their 11-year career, Fountains of Wayne have succeeded in, if nothing else, being scribes of the American suburbs. Songwriters Adam Schlesinger and Chris Collingwood have proven themselves adept at capturing the apathy, angst, laziness, and smart-ass cleverness characteristic of the ‘burbs, usually within the context of a sunny, hook-filled power pop song. Traffic and Weather diverges little from this formula. While there’s a fair amount of sub-par material here (a good 25% being filler and nothing really approaching the infectious nature of their 1996 self-titled debut), when they get it right, it really works. As with their previous work, their strength is in their storytelling. FOW have the uncanny ability to create quirky characters in their songs, zooming in on the minute details that make them who they are—what they eat, how they move, when they dream—and in doing so, make it easy for the listener to identify with them. “New Routine” depicts a series of characters who dream of escaping the limitations they were born with by first getting out of their dead end towns. “I-95” rattles on about the lengths we go to, intolerable truck stops we tolerate, and bad radio stations we endure to make long distance relationships survive. And like that nine hour drive to a long, lost lover, so is listening to this album beginning to end: difficult but survivable, with brief patches of pure, unblemished joy.

SPOON
Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga / Merge

It’s not everyday you get to review the sixth full-length release from an indie rock band. Putting out six albums is usually reserved for guys like the Rolling Stones or Bruce Springsteen—legends—whereas most indie rockers are usually checking into rehab or singing up for the night shift at McD’s somewhere between the second and the fourth.

That said, this is Spoon’s sixth album. No small feat.

I guess we shouldn’t be surprised then that Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga is shockingly good. To stick around this long, you’ve got to have more than just talent. This heavily melodic and tuneful album pulls off the envious trick of being intricately detailed, yet surprisingly lean. Running just 36 minutes, Spoon obviously understands that we live in a digital age where you can no longer get away with releasing filler. There are no mistakes here. Every sound on every song is exactly where it should be, and is deployed with explosive accuracy.

That said, the album is still very much “indie” in the sense that it was recorded with a casual rawness throughout. The margins between tracks are hazy at best with studio chatter running far into the songs, as if the band wasn’t really sure which mics were recording. Enjoyably surprising listening.
The album’s unusual title stems from a jarring, repetitive piano on the most singular song on the record, and surely the one it will be remembered best for: “The Ghost of You Lingers.” Like the lost lover to which Britt Daniel whispers desperate pleas on that track, this album will surely haunt the listener like a glorious dream awoken from at the sound of the alarm.






BLACK REBEL MOTORCYCLE CLUB
Baby 81 / RCA

BRMC founded their reputation on creating the kind of amped up psychedelic blues that few have since communicated as effectively. After incessant touring supporting the release of their second album, Take Them On, On Your Own, the band fractured as the result of hard touring and hard drug use, prompting drummer Nick Jago to walk out. Their third album, Howl, was therefore semi-acoustic, created primarily by remaining members Robert Levon Been and Peter Hayes exploring a tripped out version of Americana. Jago did eventually return, though, and the result of their combined efforts on Baby 81 sees the boys picking up right where Take Them On… left off.

The material on this record is largely composed of variations on well tread themes of loneliness, alienation, and empty promises of revolution. Nevertheless, they pull it off with such roguish sex appeal and panache, the listener can’t help but want to join in. Harley Davidson guitars rev hard and fast on the first single, “Weapon of Choice” setting the stage for a loud, blown out series of rock rampages that sound like Oasis covering Jesus and Mary Chain. “All You Do is Talk” suddenly switches gears with a stirring ballad that opens with a pastiche of string and keyboard sounds so gorgeous, powerful, and elegiac, the track could be mistaken for a 21st century church hymn. Amen, lads, amen.

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.