The second post-Oasis release by Noel Gallagher is a stone-cold triumph. At its core Chasing Yesterday is within the realm of what one would expect from the former Oasis songwriter. It’s mature but still has a bit of that old swagger. Gallagher’s songwriting is as strong as ever, and on Chasing Yesterday he delivers one great tune after another. Particularly noteworthy are the haunting “Riverman,” the Oasis-like “In the Heat of the Moment,” and the stunning closer “Ballad of the Mighty I,” which easily ranks among the greatest tracks Gallagher has ever recorded. Gallagher’s voice is in fine form, the songs are catchy and memorable, and the album is beautifully produced. Chasing Yesterday is arguably Gallagher’s best work in twenty years, since Oasis’ landmark second album (What’s the Story) Morning Glory. For the first time, Noel Gallagher has taken the mantle of a major artistic force outside of Oasis, something his brother Liam has yet to achieve.
The third album by California native Kendrick Lamar is an epic tour de force that thoroughly surprises, thrills and entertains. Sonically, To Pimp a Butterfly is a marvel, not surprising given the stature of Lamar’s collaborators, which include Flying Lotus, Pharrell Williams, Thundercat, Sounwave and other top producers. The vocal arrangements are complex and inventive, the grooves are tight, and the songs are laden with indelible hooks. Lamar’s vocal delivery is aces, and the lyrics are profoundly clever and meaningful. Musically To Pimp a Butterfly is an agile feast of sounds, heavily rhythmic with elements of funk, R&B and even some rock and jazz influences. Standouts are the engaging opener “Wesley’s Theory,” the addictive, high-energy first single “i,” and the evocative “How Much A Dollar Cost,” featuring one of Lamar’s smoothest raps over a slow-grooving, funky musical backdrop laced with soulful harmony vocals. “The Blacker the Berry” is perhaps the album’s emotional centerpiece, with Lamar spitting out the biting and provocative lyrics with rabid intensity over a taut rhythm. It features vocal cameos by Assassin and Lalah Hathaway. There’s much for the listener to digest. Complex, manic and innovative, To Pimp a Butterfly is hip-hop at its very best.
The sophomore album by Brooklyn-based The Lone Bellow, Then Came the Morning, is an immensely satisfying collection of melodic acoustic-rock/folk-pop performed with real verve. There’s something of Van Morrison in the melodic sensibilities of principle songwriter and vocalist Zach Williams, and stylistically the most obvious reference is The Band, but The Lone Bellow doesn’t fall neatly into any narrow genre label. Williams infuses the songs with genuine emotion that’s tangible. The band knows how to use dynamics to their advantage, going from hushed and stately to a rousing crescendo to build emotional power. The stirring title track opens the album with an almost gospel fervor. Another standout is the gorgeous ballad “Marietta,” notable for the exquisite harmonies which are present throughout the album. “Call to War,” sung by Kanene Pipkin with crystalline simplicity, is another stand-out. “Heaven Don’t Call Me Home” has the ardent zeal and energy of an old-school spiritual revival. Then Came the Morning has that timeless vibe of an album that doesn’t really belong to any particular era — it sounds like it could have been recorded at any time during the last forty years. It’s an enjoyable listen from start to finish.
It’s hard to believe that it’s been two decades since Marilyn Manson slithered into the national consciousness with his eerily demented take on Eurythmics’ classic “Sweet Dreams (are made of this).” Since then he’s sold millions of albums, but has seen his commercial prowess wane since his ‘90s heyday. His new album, The Pale Emperor, is easily his finest work since 1998’s superb Mechanical Animals. Manson’s sound has matured into a heavy blues-rock, and his songwriting has never been sharper. The chilling imagery we expect from Manson is still very much present, as with “Killing Strangers” and its highly sardonic refrain “We’re killing strangers so we don’t kill the ones we love.” Manson is underrated as a vocalist — he uses his voice to great effect with careful nuance and phrasing. His Peter Murphy-esque vocals range from a menacing growl to a neurotic scream. Manson reigns in the more maniacal excesses of his ’90s work, but he still operates in the fiendish, diabolical territory for which he is known. Standouts include the thunderous “Deep Six,” the psychological drama “Third Day of a Seven Day Binge,” and the darkly intense “Cupid Carries a Gun.” Manson has been around for over two decades now, and The Pale Emperor is perhaps the most focused and incisive collection of his career. Shock value is no longer Manson’s default musical device and The Pale Emperor is the mature work of a veteran artist that seems to be opening a new, impressive phase in his career.
It took eight years for Modest Mouse to follow-up their excellent 2007 album We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank, but thankfully they’ve returned with yet another outstanding collection. Strangers to Ourselves opens with the mellow, morose title track, but they are soon back in the familiar, quirky Talking Heads-esque vibe they are known for with the second track, “Lampshades on Fire.” Isaac Brock is in fine voice, and the album delivers the experimental rock for which Modest Mouse is known. One standout is the darkly intense “Shit in Your Cut,” which has a sinister vibe redolent of Tom Waits. Strangers to Ourselves is a rather dark album. For example, the dramatic and shadowy “Wicked Campaign” and the pensive grandeur of the finale, “Of Course We Know.” As is usual with Modest Mouse the arrangements are complex and original, with extraordinary attention to detail. Experimental, painstakingly crafted, and possessing a strong emotional core, Strangers to Ourselves is a sonic feast. It’s a fitting return for one of the best bands to emerge in the last twenty years.
The self-titled second album by the Oakland, California-based trio Mondo Drag is a time-warp back to the heavy, bluesy psychedelic rock of the late ‘60s and early ‘70s. It sounds completely authentic, like it could be a dust-covered old LP pulled from a long-forgotten stash of vinyl that’s been sitting neglected for four decades. With madly whirring organs, thunderous guitar riffs and wildly frenetic drums, Mondo Drag is an exhilarating acid-washed ride into the hazy past. Standouts include the motoric rocker “Crystal Vision Eyes” with its heavy beat and sinuous guitar lines, “The Dawn” with its pre-heavy metal Black Sabbath vibe, and “Shifting Sands,” a hard-charging rocker that blasts and roars like Deep Purple at their best. “Pillars of the Sky” is a more downbeat, hypnotic piece, with rich layers of doleful organ reminiscent of Procol Harum. The musicianship on Mondo Drag is superb, and the execution is flawless – Mondo Drag keenly understands the musical idiom they choose to inhabit. Mondo Drag is a fiercely rewarding listening experience that begs to be played as loudly as possible, neighbors be damned.
The latest solo release by Porcupine Tree front-man Steven Wilson is a towering masterpiece that will assuredly be a contender for album of the year. It’s difficult to discuss this album without veering into outrageous hyperbole. A sonic paradise, Hand. Cannot. Erase. is progressive rock at its most potent. Wilson swerves from delicately beautiful acoustic passages to tumultuous blasts of hard rock. The guitar-work is astonishing throughout — Wilson is a virtuoso, and he allows plenty of space for his masterful performances (along with those of fellow guitarist Guthrie Govan). Welsh singer Katherine Jenkins appears on the poignant “Perfect Life,” and Israeli vocalist Ninet Tayeb delivers stunning performances on her two guest spots, “Routine” and the stupendous “Ancestral.” The attention to detail on this album is meticulous, and the musicianship is of the highest caliber. The concept of the album involves a woman who dies alone in a large city with her death going unnoticed by friends and family for three years. It’s a somber but graceful exploration of human frailty and isolation. The magical musical universe that Wilson creates is worthy of extensive exploration and admiration.
The seventh album by singer-songwriter Sufjan Stevens is arguably the strongest of his career. Carrie & Lowell is a delicate, intimate, and exquisite collection of heartrending compositions inspired by the recent death of Stevens’ mother Carrie. Stevens’ whispery vocals float nebulously over stark acoustic guitar and piano. The album opens with “Death with Dignity,” which sets a wistful mood, sometimes nostalgic, sometimes riddled with stark anguish. It’s impossible to listen to Carrie & Lowell without deeply feeling the keen sense of loss that permeates every song. “Should Have Known Better” and “Fourth of July,” which ends with the grim repeated refrain, “We’re all going to die,” are particularly poignant. Carrie & Lowell feels raw, like a fresh wound, but with the protective distance in the all-too-human way of someone who can only express his emotions through a lens of detachment lest he break down completely. It’s a touching tribute, an aching reflection on abandonment and forgiveness, and a goodbye.
The British trio Young Fathers follow-up their brilliant Mercury Prize-winning 2014 album Dead with a collection that is every bit as good, if not better. Previously known as a predominantly hip-hop band, White Men Are Black Men Too is a radical departure, musically veering more toward edgy electronic-rock. The songs are bold, often political in nature, and eclectic. The trio is clearly hitting its artistic stride and is not afraid to take risks. As with Dead, the songs are built on a strong rhythmic foundation, but White Men Are Black Men Too covers more stylistic territory than its predecessor. It’s experimental, wired and nervy, but still accessible. At times it is a difficult listen, like the strident “Feasting,” but overall it’s highly compelling and overflowing with ideas. Standouts include “Shame,” the frantic “Rain or Shine,” and the weird, lurching electronic experiment “Get Started.” Young Fathers are emerging as a creative force to watch. If they can reign in the occasional tendency toward self-indulgence, they could be one of the most important bands of the next decade.
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