Animals as Leaders: Weightless (Prosthetic)

Animals as Leaders: "Odessa"

Begun as a solo project that highlighted guitarist Tosin Abasi’s unmistakable shredding, Animals as Leaders released its debut album in 2009, emitting progressive-metal instrumentals with tasteful ambient, electronic, and jazz undertones. Now a trio, Animals as Leaders has returned with Weightless, its first recording as an official band.

The album features more hyper-prolific finger-tapping on eight-string guitars, the instrument of choice for Abasi’s meticulously crafted material. Electronica intros and bridges play a large role, but Weightless — ironically — often is very, very heavy, more so than its predecessor, trudging into sludge territory for spells. Despite the insane technicality, there’s always an emphasis on melody and head-banging rhythms, but the music — endorsed by shred virtuoso Steve Vai — is just as suitable for those with short attention spans.

- Text by Scott Morrow & Jenn Beening.

David Lynch: Crazy Clown Time (Sunday Best / PIAS)

David Lynch: "Crazy Clown Time"

Filmmaker David Lynch, best known for surrealist works such as Mulholland Drive and Blue Velvet, may forever be considered an artist first and a musician second. And true to these labels, his new musical effort, Crazy Clown Time, is heavy on the art and light on the music. Maybe this draws the lines too sharply, but it’s fair to say that what Lynch has created here is nearly all atmosphere. It’s still a pop album, but it’s a pop album that a filmmaker like Lynch would make.

With echoing guitars lifted by highly defined cymbal splashes that enliven water-logged beats, Crazy Clown Time could score a washed-out Italian western, Nick Cave’s deviant Death of Bunny Munro, or, not surprisingly, a David Lynch film. The strangest thing about the album is that despite the great ’80s bass riff of “Stone’s Gone Up” or the elliptical synths of the somewhat banal “Good Day Today,”­ Lynch never completely loses the atmosphere.

More than writing songs, what Lynch is really doing is creating characters. These characters then are the subjects of dark narratives, all of which feature a similar texture: perpetual dampness, heavy light, and the disembodied chill of film noir.

Accessibility has always been Lynch’s worst enemy, but even though some listeners will abandon the record after the first track, “Pinky’s Dream” — a charged nightmare featuring an incredible performance by Karen O — there are several entry points for pop listeners. And longtime fans will love it all, the electro-pop confessionals and the more cinematic vignettes.

- Text by Timothy S. Aames.

Trentemøller: Reworked/Remixed (In My Room / HFN Music)

Efterklang: "Raincoats" (Trentemøller remix)

Danish production guru Anders Trentemøller built his name in the mid-2000s as a dance-floor DJ with extensive remixes and studio credits. In 2010, however, he went “live” and released a sophomore album of chilling organic orchestrations, complemented by electronics but driven by tremolo-swollen guitar riffs.

With Reworked/Remixed, a new double-album release, listeners can hear both of these sides of Trentemøller. These 22 tracks include his remixes of other established artists (UNKLE, Depeche Mode, Franz Ferdinand, Mew, Efterklang), remixes of Trentemøller material by others, and self-remixes and instrumental outtakes. By its nature, it’s a little more oriented for the dance crowd, but Reworked/Remixed remains a compelling cross-section — and introduction to — Trentemøller’s catalog.

- Text by Scott Morrow.

And So I Watch You from Afar: Gangs (Sargent House / Richter Collective)

And So I Watch You from Afar: "Beautiful Universe Master Champion"

In March, the peerless Sargent House label gave American listeners a much-needed introduction to Adebisi Shank, an Irish instrumental trio that merges raging guitar harmonies with spasmodic electronics. Now Sargent House is at it again with Richter Collective, the DIY Irish label that counts Adebisi drummer Mick Roe as a co-founder, to provide American distribution for the sophomore release of And So I Watch You from Afar, a Belfast-based trio of mathy post-rockers from Northern Ireland.

Based on the other side of the Emerald Isle, And So I Watch You from Afar has a similar MO to Adebisi and sonic brethren such as Don Caballero, The Advantage, and Maps & Atlases. And like Don Cab, the band excels with a heavier rhythmic quality thanks to single-octave riffs, deep bass grooves, and mid-tempo breakdowns. At times, it seethes with a punk ferocity, but at others, it's content to charm listeners with clean-channel harmonies and wordless choruses (such as on the buoyant and glistening "7 Billion People All Alive at Once").

Over the course of its 44 minutes, Gangs delivers an unrelenting and celebratory riff fest. There's a dash of Fang Island here, a touch of Mogwai there, and a smidge of whatever math- or post-rock group fits any given passage. But when it's all said and done, ASIWYFA just sounds like itself — a band having a grand ol' time.

- Text by Scott Morrow.

Ralfe Band: Bunny and the Bull soundtrack (Warp Films / Ghost Ship)

Ralfe Band: "Bunny and the Bull Title Theme"

The world got its first taste of Ralfe Band's playful folk in 2004 thanks to BBC Radio1’s late and great DJ John Peel. Since that introduction, songwriter Oliver Ralfe, drummer Andrew Mitchell, and crew went on to release a pair of quirky singer-songwriter albums, but their soundtrack to the 2009 British comedy Bunny and the Bull portrayed a different side of the group. Ralfe, musically inspired by scores like Ennio Morricone's Once Upon a Time in the West, Bernard Herrmann’s Vertigo, and Herbie Hancock's jazzy Blow-Up, embraced the opportunity to compose his own original soundtrack, and the result was an eclectic, flavorful set of mostly instrumental accompaniment.

Produced by Warp Films, Bunny and the Bull joins Stephen, a man disgruntled by his humdrum life, in his recollection of a humorously catastrophic odyssey through Europe with his lunatic friend Bunny. The instrumental diversity and tempo fluctuations on the score, occasionally appearing within a single track, perfectly suit the film's road-movie style. Whether or not you imagine the music in conjunction with the film, the score’s ditties vividly illustrate scenes of freewheeling, nomadic travel throughout Eastern Europe. Pianos, cowbells, accordions, triangles, flamenco guitars, ukuleles, and violas establish the whimsical nature of the music and bring the listener to atmospheres of French cabarets, Victorian England, Balkan folk dances, and bull-fighting Spain.

- Text by Lauren Zens.

Owen: Ghost Town (Polyvinyl)

Owen: "No Place Like Home"

Mike Kinsella has spent the better part of two decades playing in a bevy of Illinois-based indie-rock bands. Cap’n Jazz, Joan of Arc, Owls, American Football — each has shown a different side of Kinsella’s abilities. But Owen, his now decade-running solo project, has been the most multifaceted, and Ghost Town is more proof.

The album, as usual, is rooted in Kinsella’s delicate vocals and multi-instrumental prowess, but the timbres are as assorted as ever. Overdubbed acoustic and electric guitars, strings, piano, marimba, and glockenspiel complement the crux of each song, resulting in another heavily layered and highly melodic batch of tunes. Though Ghost Town won’t catch you off guard, its unassuming depth might surprise you.

- Text by Scott Morrow.

Slugabed: Sun Too Bright Turn it Off EP (Ninja Tune)

Slugabed: "Sun Too Bright Turn it Off"

Like many other UK cities, including Brighton and Bristol, London is on the forefront of current styles and approaches to beat-making. It’s also the residence of DJ and producer Slugabed, whose new EP, Sun Too Bright Turn it Off, sounds like the East London and Los Angeles beat scenes coming into one.

This new release marks back-to-back EPs for Slugabed, a.k.a. Greg Feldwick, as he makes a strong and steady buildup to his debut album for Ninja Tune. Parallel to the Moonbeam Rider EP, Sun Too Bright Turn it Off builds a spacey, multi-dimensional soundscape filled with chopped-and-screwed break beats, wobbly bass drops, and wild 8-bit synths.

But the two releases are unquestionably different in terms of spacing and pacing. Sun Too Bright is a substantially more down-tempo affair, which in fact better establishes Feldwick’s ability as a composer. Though his productions inherently lean toward dubstep and bass spatterings, Feldwick makes the transcontinental connection by unleashing Brainfeeder-textured melodies that thrust his music into a futuristic universe where genres are connected in unexpected ways.

- Text by Michael Nolledo. Read the full review here.

Ben Frost & Daníel Bjarnason: Sólaris (Bedroom Community)

Ben Frost & Daníel Bjarnason: "Reyja"

Last year, Mat Schulz, who started Poland’s Unsound Festival, asked composers Ben Frost and Daníel Bjarnason — each residents of Reykjavík, Iceland — to rework Andre Tarkovsky’s 1972 film Sólaris. For both Frost and Bjarnason, Music for Sólaris is a complete departure. Though Frost’s music is often labeled everything from dark industrial to classical minimalism, Bjarnason’s compositions are wildly extravagant yet controlled; together, it’s an inspired collaboration. Under their guidance, Sólaris achieves a delicate balance of the two personalities.

The soundtrack begins with “We Don’t Need Other Worlds, We Need Mirrors,” a subtle, almost piercing string arrangement that eases into the album’s steadily mounting tension. That tension reaches its summit in the latter half of the third track, “Simulacra II,” when restraint is dismissed for something more vivid and emotional.

As the soundtrack’s intensity waxes and wanes throughout, there also develops a clearer distinction between the two composers. In “Saccades,” one of the album’s closing tracks, Frost’s disturbing guitar-thumping creates an eerie discord against Bjarnason’s controlled piano, played one note at a time.

What began as an improvisation played to Sólaris resulted is something far from the original score. Nevertheless, it skillfully captures the haunting and beautifully fragmented quality of the film.

- Text by Meaghann Korbel.

Archaios: The Distant (Dark Canvas)

Archaios: "The Distant"

Dominican melodic-death-metal band Archaios has been at it since the mid-’90s, cranking out crushing, wailing riffs and blast beats. But due to the nation's lack of wealth, support, and proper metal production — not to mention its weighty presence of right-wing media — Archaios has only now been able to release The Distant, its second full-length album.

The album's release, however, is an accomplishment in itself, made even more impressive by the fact that it's the first Dominican metal album to be internationally released by a North American label. But Archaios' selection here is more than as mere novelty; its music, though drawing parallels to plenty of extreme-metal outfits, weaves together trademarks of black, prog, death, and electro metal to make one head-crushing blend.

Somehow, the tiny island nation with an equally miniature metal scene has produced a metal band that can hang with the best of them. With proper distribution and promotion, Archaios just might bring the metal spotlight to the Dominican Republic.

- Text by Kyle Gilkeson and Scott Morrow.

Honorable Mentions

200 Years: s/t (Drag City)

Brian Eno & (the words of) Rick Holland: Panic of Looking (Warp)

Chris Connelly: Artificial Madness (Relapse)

Matthew Friedberger: Death-in-Life LP (Thrill Jockey)

Hubble: Hubble Drums (Northern Spy)

Lateef the Truthspeaker: Firewire (Quannum)

Cass McCombs: Humor Risk (Domino)

Marissa Nadler: Covers Volume II (Box of Cedar)

Oneohtrix Point Never: Replica (Software / Mexican Summer)

Polinski: Labyrinths (Monotreme)

The Skull Defekts f. Daniel Higgs and Zomes: 2013-3012 (Thrill Jockey)

Zs: 33 2×7” (Northern Spy)

[Chromatic, our 400-page exploration of musicians and color, is out now. Order here!]

Dosh: "Subtractions"

Percussionist and multi-instrumentalist Martin Dosh, better known as simply Dosh, is known both for his electronic-based solo venture as well as his work with Andrew Bird, with whom he's toured and recorded. The instrumental track is Dosh's specialty; "Simple Exercises," which first appeared on Dosh's 2004 release, Pure Trash, reappeared on Bird's Armchair Apocrypha in 2007 as "Simple X" with an addition of lyrics. In the piece below, Dosh explains what drew him to instrumental music and how a few classic, lyric-less tracks continue to inspire his own music.

The Alchemy of Instrumental Music
by Dosh

I think my interest in music and sound really began when i was around nine or 10 years old; that is to say, that is when I really began LISTENING to music, to the ways instruments and voices worked together, trying to separate the sounds in my mind, trying to understand which sounds were being made by which instruments, and even what the people that played the music may have looked like. I can't recall what the first song that really captured my imagination was, but it was likely by Devo or The Cars, maybe Billy Squier. I've always listened to the music first and digested the vocals and lyrics later. When I first discovered Jimi Hendrix and Led Zeppelin, I found the vocals to be distracting. I couldn't understand why they were there; they seemed like an afterthought.

Once I started playing drums, when i was 15, that was all I really heard when I would listen to a song: the drums. And I played a little bit with some friends, but I didn't truly discover the joy of volume until I went to college two years later.  I spent more time listening to music in my first two years than I spent doing anything else — usually as loud as possible.  I was lucky enough to have a few friends who had massive record collections, and I listened to everything.

There is a certain alchemy in a song that doesn't have words. A good song with no words commands your attention in a different way than a song with words does. It can mean whatever you want it to mean. There aren't words to sing along with or to tell you what the song is about or to tell you how to feel.

In compiling this list of songs and listening back to it, I've been trying to find the common denominator; some of these songs would be classified as jazz, some would be classified as funk, some would be classified as post-rock, some would be classified as electronic, and some would be classified as fusion. To me, all these labels don't help the listener. Each classification has baggage: fusion is uncool, funk is passé, post-rock is pretentious. But what they have in common (with two exceptions) is probably the presence of the electric guitar, often distorted, and varying degrees of studio trickery.

Anyway, these 10 songs are not meant to be a "best instrumental-rock songs of all time" list, just 10 songs that mean a lot to me and have greatly influenced the music that I make.  This music is joyful and thrilling, and it speaks for itself. These songs never get old, and they continue to inspire me.

I realize there are a few vocals on here — Jimi's strange story on "Third Stone From the Sun" and all the crazy baby shrieks on Funkadelic's "Wars of Armageddon" — but that wasn't enough to knock them off the list.

Jeff Beck: "You Know What I Mean" (1975)

Herbie Hancock: "Steppin' in It" (1975)

Sonny Sharrock: "Promises Kept" (1991)

Tortoise:  "TNT" (1998)

Jimi Hendrix: "Third Stone from the Sun" (1966)

Miles Davis: "Spanish Key" (1968)

Frank Zappa: "Big Swifty" (1972)

Funkadelic: "Wars of Armageddon" (1970)

Boards of Canada: "Sixtyniner" (1995)

Squarepusher: "A Journey to Reedham (7AM Mix)" (1997)

Boxcutter: The Dissolve (Planet Mu, 4/25/11)

Boxcutter: "TV Troubles"

Morrow: The Dissolve is the fourth full-length album by Boxcutter, a dubstep/IDM musician from Northern Ireland and a regular of the Planet Mu roster.  Also known as Barry Lynn, he often takes a dance-influenced approach to his music, enabling an entry point for those who can't handle thornier artists like Aphex Twin.

On The Dissolve, some of the dark dance elements remain, but by and large, this is a shift in a much funkier direction, with retro electronic sounds providing a much lighter and old-school feel.

Hajduch: I've been a fan of Boxcutter for a long time.  It's always seemed like his music was only "dubstep" in name only; he traded mainly in really brutal jungle / drum 'n' bass, which was no stranger to the super-heavy bass line.

He also accented his music with flourishes of horns and keys, with a jazz-fusion nod reminiscent of Squarepusher. That's all been changing, and The Dissolve gets him much closer to mid-'70s Herbie Hancock in sound, with artwork that owes a lot to current indie/experimental's fetish for a look approximating cheap VHS video.

Morrow: If you go back to his first full album, Oneiric, after listening to The Dissolve, it sounds like another artist — with deep, wobbling bass lines, foreboding samples, and increased atmospherics.  But if you go through the timeline, the metamorphosis is much more fluid.  I prefer some of the darker material and the more exotic samples, but it's been a relatively smooth transition to an album of get-down sounds.

And though some of the bubblier sounds aren't my cup of tea, I like that there's a lot going on, often with some exotic flavors in the mix.  There are elements that could double as digitized flutes or harpsichords, but there also are fluttering video-game sounds and outer-space effects over bouncing bass lines.

Hajduch: The transition has been a gradual one — basically from a light jazz-inflected sound to a more minor-key approach, closer to a more traditional notion of "dubstep."  And the back end of The Dissolve feels a lot more familiar for listeners of his previous album, Arecibo Message. It's primarily a busy, dark take on two-step.  It's not particularly adventurous, but the way that Lynn builds the tracks up, it's compelling listening nonetheless.

And given how flat some of the vocal funk excursions fall (neither of the Brian Greene vocal tracks are bad, per se; they're well executed but seem longer than they actually are), it's comforting to hear the shuffle of "Moon Pupils" or the skittering footwork toms (and sort of insane cymbal programming!) of "Allele."  These sparse, percussive, dubby workouts are much closer to Lynn's wheelhouse than tepid vocal funk, no matter how lush it sounds.

Morrow: I'm not too keen on the vocal funk either, but I think that The Dissolve finds a nice balance, and there are even a few reverberated guitar lines to pair with the synthesizers and samples.  Boxcutter has done another nice job of keeping things interesting.

Austin Peralta: Endless Planets (Brainfeeder, 2/15/11)

Austin Peralta: "Capricornus"

Austin Peralta is a 20-year-old jazz pianist.  A former child prodigy, Peralta has already led two record releases abroad for Sony Japan. He recorded his first album, Maiden Voyage, at age 15 with a trio that included legendary bassist Ron Carter. And his sophomore effort, Mantra, was recorded mere months later with a quintet including Buster Williams.  If that's not enough to convince you of Peralta's skill level, a stage shared with Chick Corea and Hank Jones at the 2007 Tokyo Jazz Festival will. Add in a number of prestigious awards and it's clear that the young LA native has chops, to say the least.

For his third album, and first US release, Endless Planets, Peralta joined the Flying Lotus-run Brainfeeder label.  It’s a progressive step forward in Brainfeeder’s legacy, one that seems natural, given Flying Lotus' (a.k.a. Steven Ellison) great-nephew relation to jazz icon Alice Coltrane. It’s a label that's home to artists who have been using jazz sounds and textures to create some of today's most genre-forging music.

Endless Planets is a dense body of original work, self-produced with the help of Brainfeeder colleague Strangeloop, who injects the tracks with the electronic qualities that the imprint is known for.  They are, however, kept to a minimum, and anyone expecting something overly electronic will be disappointed. Instead, Endless Planets fits into the experimental side of the Brainfeeder camp without using technology. It's a jazz record to bridge the gap between generations, touching and building on foundations of hard bop and nu-jazz, all through a young and fresh perspective. And with a chilling down-tempo collaboration with The Cinematic Orchestra and vocalist Heidi Vogel to round out the record, Peralta proves that he can be in a league of his own.

The beauty of Endless Planets begins with song structure. Sticking to a familiar head-solo-head structure, solid foundations and swinging solos by Zane Musa (alto saxophone), Ben Wendel (tenor and soprano saxophone), Hamilton Price (bass), and Zach Harmon (drums) make this record successful. Though hyped virtuosos often fall victim to the overselling of skills on record, this is not the case for Peralta. It’s quite clear with Peralta that it’s not all technical. From his soft meanderings on opener “Introduction: Lotus Flower,” which give way to a lone saxophone, there is an intuitive understanding of the jazz outfit, which speaks to a stellar dynamic between all of the players.

“Capricornus” and “The Underwater Mountain Odyssey” are standout tracks. Both long and highly energetic, each track takes time in introducing each player to the record. In “Capricornus,” Peralta keeps a precise attack, while Musa and Wendel's horns are energetic and focused, rich with tone and texture throughout. Harmon and Price create a raucous rhythm on both tracks — not because the horns and piano are sympathetic, but because the two play just as clear and complex as their counterparts.

Endless Planets captures a sense of freedom in seemingly cluttered worlds.  Even for the slower “Ode To Love,” the session is loose and free, though all of the instruments seem to orbit around Peralta’s piano. The track moves from sax solo to piano solo in deliberate fashion, and Peralta suddenly emerges with a pure tone filled with grace and restless drive.

With a timeless sound that is sometimes reminiscent of McCoy Tyner, Peralta owns some of the most beautiful moments on the record. The epic 13-minute track “Algiers” has Peralta building a trance-like state; it's a relentless stretch of piano riffing that sounds like it would be right at home on Herbie Hancock’s 1963 Inventions and Dimensions sessions. Wendel and Musa shine here again, injecting the track with African-influenced horn lines, channeling the energy of trumpeters Lee Morgan and Wayne Shorter.

In many ways, Endless Planets is a hopeful glimpse into the future, showing that younger generations are beginning to rethink the genre. For Brainfeeder, it’s a melding of aesthetics that makes perfect sense. And for the 20-year-old Peralta, it’s a rich and stunning first release of original material that leaves room for maturity and growth.

Vincent Kenis is attempting to light his cigarette with a lamp. His voice is marbled with a thick accent and long pauses as he constructs words to describe his field recordings in Africa. A Belgian musician/producer now well known for his knowledge of Congolese music, he is relaying the story of Konono No. 1, a group from Kinshasa that had all but disappeared until the sudden exposure of Congotronics 1 (Crammed Discs) in 2005 brought global recognition.

“He came to Kinshasa when he was very young,” Kenis says of Konono’s founder, Mawangu Mingiedi, who started the band in the 1970s. “I think he came when his father died. He was born in the village, and his father was…the leader of the king’s orchestra. You know they had local kings in the Congo region. He learned the likembe (a Central African instrument also known as a thumb piano) from his father, and carrying the likembe into town was maybe for him a way to continue to evoke the sounds he heard when he was a kid. It’s like a portable village.”

Mingiedi’s history is tangled up in the history of his country: nebulous kingdoms upended by Belgian colonization, remade into arbitrary regions like incongruous patches on a quilt; a nationalist movement for independence and then the brutality of dictators like Joseph-Désiré Mobutu, who, as the Western and Eastern Blocs played tug-of-war for the globe, renamed the country the Republic of Zaire; and emergence from bloody conflict as the Democratic Republic of Congo.

“Our music is the heritage that was passed on to us by our parents,” the group says in an E-mail exchange, while en route to the UK, through its translator Aharon Matondo. “Because of the total lack of means, we had to look for elements in garbage dumps — for instance, car alternators, from which we took wires to construct microphones and amplify the likembes. And the cymbals were made from old kitchen pot lids. After we started touring in Europe and America, we improved the amplification, but we always kept those original elements. It became part of our music.”

Its eclectic array of instruments, heard again this summer with Assume Crash Position, centers on the likembe, a small wooden box with metal tines that are plucked with the musician’s thumbs in order to mimic the region’s traditional horn polyphony.

Konono uses several in its lineup — each one handmade by Mingiedi — that weave back and forth across each other like ripples from divergent waves, helping transition call-and-response choruses into electronic jams and filling out the band’s style of Bazombo trance music that garnered it a spot on Bjork’s Volta and Herbie Hancock’s recent The Imagine Project. (Also known as Zombo, the Bazombo are an ethnic group with roots near the Angola border.)

Konono’s odd blend of instrumentation was not borne out of the vacuum of novelization, but rather its physical context. In 1971, Mobutu launched his Authenticity Program — a mandated, nationwide purge of European culture. The impact on local music was enormous. Radio stations only played Congolese music, and bands of relative obscurity were suddenly seen as spokespeople at the very least, saviors at most.

“Mobutu…realized the political strength of the music in Congo,” Kenis says. “Independence is considered by Congolese as a victory brought to them by musicians, as well as politicians.”

The government could only corral musical experience so long. Traditional groups like Konono fell out of favor after only five years, paralleling the prosperity of the nation. The band’s music was again confined to the local public.

It was during this time that Kenis, who was first drawn to Congolese music as a kid — a result of the dense diaspora around Brussels — heard Konono’s music. He made a cassette of it, and while on tour in the late 1970s, this music that was “so radically different than the rumba and the soukous” became like a muse for him.

He had traveled to Congo in ’71, just as the Authenticity Program was beginning, and returned in 1989 and 1996, making recordings of groups like Kasai Allstars and a number of others. Twenty years passed and he had still not found Konono, which remained shrouded by rumors; some reported that Mingiedi had died.

Kenis finally discovered a pocket of Bazombo in Kinshasa. He found the members scattered, eking out livings; Mingiedi was driving a taxi. They met and talked, and two years later, Kenis returned once more to Kinshasa to record the group — a haphazard process that eventually became Congotronics 1.

Even as it gained global acclaim, Konono’s repetitive, almost toy-ish electronic sound was not instantly accessible to the broader audience, especially with track lengths that range between 2 and 12 minutes. When audiences hear Konono, there often is a lull, a lag before they appreciate it.

“After 10 minutes, there’s a kind of uneasiness,” Kenis says. “And then the uneasiness usually goes after 20 minutes, because they catch the thing, the swing. The Konono music…cannot be divided by two infinitum. It’s not in 4/4—it’s like 5/4 or 3/4. It’s very specific. You have to come to terms with the sound — which is evolving constantly and minimalistically over time, but basically staying the same — and [you have to] realize that the shifts in that sameness is the whole game. As soon as people get into it with their bodies — without knowing it, just intuitively — they get it.”

The music of Africa is like this — foreign but deeply understood, with primal roots that unearth hesitation. And yet there is a sense of lacking. Musically, it is rich — both soothing and invigorating, like the view from the continental divide. But there’s a disconnect, a rift between what a Westerner will hear and what the band’s Bakongo brothers and sisters will hear.

“We like playing in the Congo and abroad,” the group says, “[but] in the Congo, what prevails in our concerts is the festive atmosphere, a feeling of joy, and a feeling of coming together with our people and our tradition. These are moments when the spirits of the ancestors are working a lot, and we can feel that. In the rest of the world, it’s [just] the joy and the festive atmosphere.”

Bongripper: Satan Worshipping Doom 2xLP (August 13, 2010)

Bongripper: "Hail"

Morrow: Chicago's Bongripper makes the type of music that you might glean from its name — bleak, crushing doom metal that's built on stoner riffs and down-tuned guitars.  I will preface this by saying that I'm not a huge fan of the genre, but the band already has two strikes in my book for the lame pot-related name and the (presumably tongue-in-cheek) Satanism.

Hajduch: A decidedly juvenile aesthetic (bong name, crazy metal titty-demon artwork, hailing Satan at every opportunity) may not be Morrow's bag, but it's hard to fault a band who does instrumental stoner/doom metal in such a solid fashion.

The four tracks — yes, they are titled "Hail," Satan," "Worship," and "Doom" — each take up an entire side of a lovingly crafted two-LP set.  Each gradually spans styles, from bluesy riffs to down-tuned sludge stomp, with occasional flourishes of synthesizer and even a little bit of blast-y black metal.  It's ridiculously effective, and you can't stop head-banging, ever, and then you seriously wind up worshipping Satan.

Morrow: Ha! Well, unfortunately, this album only makes me want to rip off a mean nap.  There just isn't enough to sustain these songs, let alone for 11–13 minutes each.  The riffs are dull — often just 2-3 notes — and it's just minutes and minutes of the same thing.  I know that's the point of doom metal, but they don't add other layers or anything.  It's just the usual metal-band instrumentation.

I was into it for the first few minutes, but as is often the case with the genre, it got stale.  There are bands who do similar things well – Sunn O))), Khanate, Bloody Panda, even “lighter” bands like Cavity and Torche – and Bongripper, to me, isn’t doing anything different or better.

Hajduch: Khanate are cool if you like feedback, and Sunn are interesting if you think it's cool that a dude who played on the hottest Herbie Hancock records contributed (Julian Priester, trombone on Hancock's Mwandishi trilogy and bandleader for the insanely great 1973 album Love, Love).  But too much stoner metal went up its own ass listening to My Bloody Valentine and died there.

It's cool to hear a band that just wants to crush you with riffs.  I hear you that metal-band instrumentation could use a little fresh polish (KTL deserves to be a household name), but I think that years of horrifyingly dour and terrible orchestral metal (how can you be so gaudy and so boring?!) has scared everybody back to guitar/bass/drums monotony.  Nobody criticized this formula when Pelican rode it all the way to the top, and their drummer didn't even know how to play.

Morrow: For the record, I criticized Pelican!  (And I will defend orchestral metal — at least something like Sigh, not Metallica playing with a symphony.)  Also, yes, it’s awesome that Julian Priester and people like Eyvind Kang (Secret Chiefs 3, Bill Frisell) are all over the last Sunn album.  They called in the proverbial big guns, and it paid off.

Digressing, I’m all about riffs – big, massive riffs – but I don’t think that these are very good.  And though I’m glad that they didn’t add vocals just for the sake of it, having something else would have been nice.  The second track, “Satan,” is a nice tempo change from the opener, but at more than 11 minutes, it’s still way too long.

Hajduch: I think this album is a lot more well thought out than prior Bongripper releases, and I have no complaints. I could see why somebody else might find this type of stuff repetitive, but I don't, and I'm sure that there's plenty of people out there like me who like basic bread-and-butter doom metal.

The first-press vinyl was limited to 300, and the upcoming colored stock is sure to be gone after they add the sticker onto the front with Morrow's glowing praise ("big, massive riffs…very good…a nice tempo change!" – Scott Morrow, ALARM).

Morrow: Normally, the Morrow seal of approval is a kiss of death, but I'm willing to suspend disbelief and guarantee them a good 5-6 sales.  Besides, it's better than your press quote ("I have…complaints." – Patrick Hajduch, ALARM).

Kayo Dot's last release, Coyote, has been dubbed "gothic fusion" through its combination of melodramatic influences from Faith and the Muse and the rhythmic challenges presented by Herbie Hancock.

Stained Glass will consist of one long composition of the same title and will feature the lineup of Coyote, plus vibraphonist Russell Greenberg, who has been a part of Hi-Red Center and Yarn/Wire.

The NYC concert will also include the insane, atmospheric tech-metal band Cleric and the heavy, bluesy riffs of Bad Girlfriend (the good Bad Girlfriend from New York, not the bad Bad Girlfriend from New York).

Cleric just debuted its first LP, Regressions, on Mimicry earlier this year, presenting a musically complex, progressive metal album with an apocalyptic tone.

Trentemøller: Into the Great Wide Yonder (In My Room)

Anders Trentemøller has built his name in the Danish electronic scene since 2003. After remixing some high-profile artists (Röyksopp, The Knife, Robyn, and Moby to name a few), he decided to expand his production talents to a full-length album.

The year 2006 saw the release of The Last Resort, an ambitious double-disc collection that showed off his ability to split the difference between headphone-friendly grooves and dance-floor burners.

His new album, Into the Great Wide Yonder, is a dramatic departure from his previous work. The songs are more complex and heavier, with layer upon layer of robust orchestration that includes mandolins, Theremins, vibraphones, strings, synths, and acoustic and electronic drums playing a game of king of the hill.

But those instruments, most of which are performed by Trentemøller, fall to the wayside when confronted by the tremolo-swollen and overdriven guitar riffs. The guitar work, again performed by Trentemøller, sounds like surf rock during a hurricane, dark and immensely powerful, with the shudder of the whammy bar sending trembles through the music.

Tracks grow and mutate in a much less sequenced manner than his previous material. Additionally, the album is much more vocal-centric than The Last Resort, which featured a few distorted and chopped vocal tracks and used them more rhythmically than melodically.

On “Sycamore Feeling,” the new album’s first single, Trentemøller lets guest vocalist Marie Fisker’s smoky voice run free across his placid guitar strumming. The track marries the heartbeat of minimal techno with the meditations of an acoustic guitarist, creating a full band sound that hasn’t been heard in his music before.

English singer Fyfe Dangerfield (Guillemots) and Danish singers Josephine Philip (Darkness Falls) and Solveig Sandnes also add enrapturing vocals on a few other tracks, and the result is no less stunning.

Trentemøller: "The Mash and the Fury"
Trentemoller: \"The Mash and the Fury\"

Trash Talk: Eyes & Nines (Trash Talk Collective)

With its sophomore "full-length" album — just more than 22 minutes — Sacramento quartet Trash Talk has come into its own as a hardcore powerhouse.

An assailing 2008 full-length, recorded by Steve Albini, put the band on the map after jumping ship from Deathwish Inc. And though that self-titled disc churned out potent thrash riffs, push beats, gruff vocals, breakdowns, and the occasional sludge part, Eyes & Nines is a much stronger exercise in songwriting.

Stoner riffs make a few appearances, most notably in the four-minute, Christianity-assailing "Hash Wednesday," but most durations are cut in the classic punk/HC mold — with one track ("I Do") clocking in at 40 seconds. Over a few passages, guitar effects provide a new-found psychedelic aspect as well as a full-blown rock-and-roll aesthetic.

The style isn't groundbreaking, but the band executes it powerfully. Trash Talk will make you fall in love with hardcore all over again.

Trash Talk: "Explode"
Trash Talk: \"Explode\"

The Waitiki 7: New Sounds of Exotica (Pass Out)

As an offshoot of lounge music, exotica gained mainstream appeal in the 1950s as a romanticized soundtrack to Hawaiian and Oceanic life.

Though devoid of the ukuleles and slack-key guitars that may be most commonly associated with Hawaiian music, The Waitiki 7 — based on the island of Oahu — excel in capturing the "exotic" sounds that Martin Denny helped popularize.

The septet's gorgeous melodies, however, do more than renew a bygone genre. Its radiant brand of exotica crosses into Latin jazz with just as much poise and dexterity, often melding the two with a lineup of vibraphone and xylophone, upright bass, flute, piano, violin, saxophone, vocal and bird calls, drums, and assorted percussion.

The Waitiki 7: "Similau"
The Waitiki 7: \"Similau\"

Integrity: The Blackest Curse (Deathwish Inc.)

Integrity is one of the forebears of the "metal-core" sub-genre, but the band's sound might be best recognized for its vocals — the hellish, pained screams of Dwid Hellion.

And Dwid, after all, has been the one fixed piece in Integrity, which hadn't issued a full album since To Die For in 2003. Five years in the making, The Blackest Curse is another return to form, albeit with another new lineup.

As usual, there are loads of shredding, speed metal, and chugging to go with wailing, runaway rock solos and Dwid's monotone intensity. A few tracks, as on albums past, offer sullen acoustic-guitar melodies, this time accompanied by a few lone cello notes and dark, whispered words from Dwid.

Fans will love The Blackest Curse, and younger metal-core addicts will discover a band that has influenced many of their contemporary favorites.

Integrity: "Simulacra"
Integrity: \"Simulacra\"

Konono No. 1: Assume Crash Position (Crammed)

Founded by Mawangu Mingiedi in the 1970s, Konono No. 1 is a dance-inspiring group from Kinshana, Democratic Republic of the Congo that had all but disappeared until the sudden exposure of Congotronics 1 in 2005 brought global recognition.

Its eclectic array of instruments, heard again this summer with Assume Crash Position, centers on the likembe, a small wooden box with metal tines that are plucked with the musician’s thumbs in order to mimic the region’s traditional horn polyphony.

Konono uses several in its lineup — each one handmade by Mingiedi — that weave back and forth, helping transition call-and-response choruses into electronic jams and filling out the band’s style of "Bazombo trance" music that garnered it a spot on Björk’s Volta and Herbie Hancock’s upcoming The Imagine Project. (Also known as Zombo, the Bazombo are an ethnic group with roots near the Angola border.)

Assume Crash Position is another fine collection of cross-cultural dance tunes. More importantly, it's a testament to the band's longstanding and international appeal.

Konono No. 1: "Mama Na Bana"
Konono No. 1: \"Mama Na Bana\"

Honorable Mentions

Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti: Before Today (4AD)

Ólafur Arnalds: …And They Have Escaped the Weight of Darkness (Erased Tapes)

Chali 2na: Fish Market Part 2 (Decon)

Fela! Original Broadway Cast Recording (Knitting Factory)

The Funeral Pyre: Vultures at Dawn (Prosthetic)

Kingdom Of Sorrow: Behind The Blackest Tears (Relapse)

Leng Tch'e: Hypomanic (Season of Mist)

Light Pollution: Apparitions (Carpark)

Nachtmystium: Addicts: Black Meddle Pt. 2 (Century Media)

Nina Nastasia: Outlaster (Fat Cat)

NOMO, the alternative Afrobeat collective from Ann Arbor, Michigan, marches to its own beat, or more accurately, to the beat of four different percussionists.

Led by the lanky, baby-faced founder and composer Elliot Bergman, the nine-piece multi-ethnic/gender brigade is a mash-up of cultural and musical influences.

Defying classification to create an Afrobeat/funk/electronic hybrid (think Remain in Light-era Talking Heads with the sensibilities of Fela Kuti), the band has old-school jazz purists, hipsters, and indie rockers cocking an ear and taking notice.

With choice gigs at Bonnaroo and the 2007 Chicago Pitchfork Festival, along with opening slots for Ozomatli and Earth, Wind, and Fire, the road warriors of NOMO warmly embrace any scene or genre that will have them. In an industry obsessed with genre profiling, the band defies categorization, opting simply to attract the uninitiated with freewheeling live shows and an “all are welcome” credo.

“NOMO is a big melting pot of ideas and influences,” explains Bergman from his home in the suburbs of Chicago, Illinois. “It started with a bunch of us getting together and saying, ‘Let’s have a big Afrobeat jam.’

"I met most of the band through the University of Michigan, and we unified the vision to have a sound that is mostly instrumental, with a lot of horns and percussion that would get people dancing. I was always into jazz, particularly electric Miles Davis and Herbie Hancock, but when I got to college, the doors opened.

"Ann Arbor is a pretty arts-orientated community, and when I started working at crate-digger's paradise Encore Records, I started getting parallel educations. I got really into Indian and African music, as well as European bands like Gang of Four and Can.”

During the early incarnations of NOMO, Bergman moonlighted as an active member of indie-pop darlings Saturday Looks Good to Me, which acted as an outlet for his rock leanings.

With the recording of New Tones (Ubiquity) in 2006, Bergman and co. harnessed the improvisation of their live shows by filtering rhythmic horn lines through a tight funk gauntlet. While the interlocking of horn, percussion, and thumping bass are tight, the arrangements never feel rigid, and the continuous groove ebbs and flows but rarely falls flat.

A large part of the album’s sound can be credited to His Name is Alive founder Warn Defever’s role as producer.

“He’s a Pro Tools genius who engineers from a moral and ethical standpoint,” explains Bergman. “He had very specific ideas about how every instrument should sound and how it all fit together. However, it’s a very collaborative process and I’m always sitting there with him when he’s mixing.”

Much of NOMO’s appeal stems from the raw energy of its live shows. “Since the music is mostly instrumental, it may be a bit more challenging to connect emotionally, but there can also be a very strong visceral and emotional response," Bergman says. "We’ve had people come up crying and wanting to hug us after a show, so there can be a very powerful connection.”

Aided by the critical success of New Tones and the strong word of mouth generated by the live shows, NOMO landed a slot on the 2007 Pitchfork Festival. On a sweltering July afternoon in Chicago’s Union Park, NOMO dared the typically reserved crowd to resist the groove and shed hipster inhibitions.

“It was a weird day," he says. "The stage sound was disastrous, but people didn’t seem to mind. It was like senior prom, where you wait and plan for it forever, and then it’s over and done so quickly. At the end of the day, I was like, ‘Shoot, I forget to check out all the other bands.’”

As for any tales of debauchery or star-struck moments, Bergman offers none except for a backstage mix-up. “If this is my chance, I’d like to apologize to Menomena for accidentally drinking all of their beer. There were ten of us on tour and it gets very confusing. I think we also ate their veggie trays.”

After the Pitchfork gig, the band headed directly into Key Club Studies in Benton Harbor, Michigan with Defever to start work on its third album, Ghost Rock.

“Our drummer was leaving for India, so we booked two days immediately after our five-week tour,” recalls Bergman. “The band was super tight but also burned out. Everyone’s chops were busted, but we laid down some good stuff.

"The next day we focused on loops and electronics. People talk about a natural progression in our records, and I feel that this is a big artistic, if not necessarily logical, step forward for us. It’s a lot more minimal.”

Set for a June 17th release on Ubiquity Records, Ghost Rock finds the band mining much of the same territory of New Tones, while diving deep into the European electro soundscapes of Can and Brian Eno. It is at once swirling and dense, but completely approachable and funky as all hell.

“World music, jazz, electronica, Afrobeat…I hope that we don’t get marginalized by any of these terms,” says Bergman. “We are an American band, and in our hearts, I think we’re more of a rock band than anything else, but we do love so many different types of music.”

What’s ultimately mystifying about the band is how it is able to deftly integrate itself into rigidly defined social scenes of music. In a crude summation: the jazz people get it, the indie rockers dig it, and the jam and electronic crowd feels it.

“In the same year, we played Pitchfork and the Montreal Jazz Festival,” says Bergman. “We played with Dan Deacon to a bunch of young kids, but we also played punk clubs. We played a gig in Iowa City for maybe ten people. One time we had a group of swing-dancing elderly couples at the show who heard about us on NPR. I don’t want to turn anyone away. I just want to get this music out to as many receptive people as possible.