What is the sound of Duluth? Or Minneapolis, Brooklyn, or Austin, TX for that matter? Looking at the last two cities, you might argue that a jangly variant of lo-fi garage pop epitomizes their current “sound.” But characterizations like that don’t really get at a city’s sound so much as the type of music that’s popular among musicians from that locale. And thanks to the proliferation of Internet music culture, chances are the aesthetic popular in one larger city is also popular in another. (Do you see how I just conflated Austin and Brooklyn?) I imagine one thing working against larger metro areas—let’s add Portland and, to a lesser extent, Seattle to the mix as well—cultivating a distinguishing music style is the in-and-out migration of young creative types. A good portion of the artistic work comes from individuals with shorter roots to the region and a poorer sense of the city’s music history.

Minneapolis has a long history of well-loved, well-known, and well-remembered musicians and bands who’ve called the city home. Dylan, Prince, the Replacements, Hüsker Dü, yadda yadda—all regarded as seminal “Minneapolis artists.” But there’s nothing essentially “Minneapolis” about Robert Zimmerman’s raspy storytelling, the skeezy grooves of The Artist, or the charging punk of the ’80s. Nothing in the guitar chords, drum kicks, or synth riffs. Without outside knowledge of the band, it would be nearly impossible to pinpoint where the seminal bands came from. Maybe, if explicit enough or Google-able, you could guess from some revealing lyrics . . .

Two bands notorious for name-dropping their home state are the Hold Steady and Motion City Soundtrack. (For the latter, it’s even encoded in their name!) And neither of them, in my opinion, connects music to place in anything more than a superficial way. While mentioning Lyndale Avenue or City Center may serve an autobiographical or narrative end, the references are merely cultural touchpoints for the listener a character in the song. Depending on the track, artists like these come off as either encyclopedic city slickers or desperate crowd-pleasers.

So what about Duluth? The harbor city’s biggest cultural exports are, arguably, Low and Trampled by Turtles. But just like Prince and the Replacements, Low’s shoegazing alt-rock and Trampled by Turtles’ rootsy bacchanalia aren’t particularly “Duluthy.” A half-liquored-up music-theory graduate student might contrarily try to argue that the cold, foggy winters of Duluth lend a mellow, introspective quality to Low’s songwriting; or that big-small town vibe of downtown Duluth is the origin of the celebratory togetherness of Trampled’s folky bombast. I believe that music can capture the atmosphere of a place as large as a city, but I don’t think it can be accomplished through rock or pop.

Not to sound like an old saw . . . but this is a perfect realm for experimentalism—like the combination of found-sound manipulation and abstract choral music of Philip Blackburn. Blackburn is a UK-born “environmental sound artist” who’s been doing much of the album production work for the fabulous and under-appreciated innova record label based in St. Paul. After about 20 years with innova, the label is releasing what amounts to Blackburn’s “debut album,” Ghostly Psalms (due out February 28). The lead-off track from the album is “Duluth Harbor Serenade,” an 8-minute wander along the shore of Lake Superior and the up the cobblestone avenues of the taconite city.

“Duluth Harbor Serenade” is a montage of found sounds mingled with immersive public performances in the city. (Watch the video below.) The shrill bellows of fog horns, piercing wail of ambulance sirens, and tolls of church bells comingle with the laughter of school children, buzzing chainsaws, an impromptu street-corner choral arrangement, lapping waves, and random loud instruments played and recorded simultaneously throughout the city. According to innova, the composition was “heard over several miles.”

Blackburn’s serenade is, I think, the perfect example of music capturing the “sound” of a city. Listening to it brings me back to day trips with my dad and brother to Canal Park and crooked evenings walking out of Fitger’s. The recording samples he chose to spotlight on the track speak to Duluth’s industrial past—the boats pushing through the harbor, the railcars loading and unloading ore from the Iron Range—in a very honest way. One example of someone trying this out in Minneapolis—to a much lesser extent—is Jeremy Messersmith at the end of his song “Light Rail.” These are the sounds that make the city what it is, turned into music. On top of that, by bringing the performance into the streets, Blackburn indirectly engaged Duluth’s whole population with his art.

I’d argue that a work like “Duluth Harbor Serenade” is possible for every city, every town. It’s up to the artist, of course, to single out the integral, nostalgic, idiosyncratic snippets of noise that make the place memorable, that turn a city into a hometown.

—Will Wlizlo

Following up his excellent early 2011 LP Space is Only Noise, minimal electronic artist Nicolas Jaar released to short, but very good, EPs near the end of last year. The first EP is self-titled, released under his Darkside moniker, that is more sleek and dark than Space is Only Noise. Don’t Break My Love, released under his given name, follows the ambient textures of Noise more closely.

Don’t Break my Love is essentially a single released as an EP. The title track is the A-Side; “Why Didn’t You Save Me” serves as the B-side. “Don’t Break My Love” is classic Jaar, building itself with drum clicks wrapped in static; soft, wobbly synths; and disjointed vocals. The track is a wistful mix of spooky and alluring moments. The curveball comes five minutes into the track, when the music drops out and demented neo-soul sweeps through the speakers. Once you get over the  abrupt shock, it is as funky and commanding as you would ever suspect from Jaar. “Don’t Break My Love” sounds like an outtake from Noise and is a good continuation of his work, even if it isn’t the most arresting track he has ever written.

The real highlight, for me, is the dark, avant-noir stutter of the three song Darkside EP. The tracks seem tailor made for your next car-heist movie, slinky and detached while still packing a forceful punched. Simply named “A1,” “A2,” and “A3,” the collection is a masterstroke in minimal electronic funk. It’s possessed with the kind of restrained urgency that makes you clench your fists and stomp your feet, ready at any moment for the unsuspected twist around the corner. The songs are all tight and rigid, equally suited for a headphone phase-out as a dark and sweaty dance floor. Letting the bass line pulse through the songs and utilizing cutting guitar stabs, Jaar proves he is fully capable of bringing the funk when he wants to, even if his forte is in wandering the nebulous ether of synthscapes.

Both releases serve as excellent addendum to Space is Only Noise and further encouragement for those who haven’t checked out Jaar yet to hop on the bandwagon. While Don’t Break My Love cements his mastery, the Darkside EP is the real stunner, and—importantly—shows that Jaar is more than a one-trick pony. Both are streaming below—two crystal clear examples of why Jaar is one of the most exciting young artists (he is 22) currently working in electronic music.

DARKSIDE – DARKSIDE EP by Clown & Sunset

NICOLAS JAAR / Don’t break my love EP by Clown & Sunset

—Josh

On her follow-up to 2010’s 1977, Chilean/French rapper Ana Tijoux further explores the nascent jazz/hip hop fusion aesthetic of that record. While 1977 found a balance between hard-hitting rhymes and sultry beats, La Bala tips the scales toward jazz and R&B. Though an extremely capable rapper, Tijoux spends almost as much time on La Bala singing as she does rapping—similar to what we recently heard on Doomtree emcee Dessa’s A Broken Code.  La Bala’s most lively rapping can’t even be attributed to Tijoux—a guest rapper from Los Aldeanos takes that prize with some fierce wordsmithing on “Si Te Preguntan,” on which Tijoux mainly sings the chorus (though she does rap a verse toward the song’s back end).

And while there isn’t anything wrong with Tijoux’s singing voice, there also isn’t anything all that special about it. Tijoux brings a fiery passion to her Spanish-language verses when she does rap them. As singer her vocals are merely good without being captivating. Despite a weaker vocal ability, several songs off of La Bala are bound to evoke some comparisons to a “Latin Erykah Badu” (particularly smooth jazz number “Quizas”). Generally, Tijoux strikes a fine enough balance between rapping and singing that her strengths in the former mask any weakness in the latter. In fact, the line between rapping and singing is often blurred to the point of not really being able to pin the sound down firmly in either camp.

When Tijoux does break out and rap, the results are often mesmerizing and enchanting. Titular track “La Bala” and “Las Cosas Por Su Nombre” are both standout singles in which Tijoux shines with expertly calibrated rhyme schemes.  The record’s production shines as well—La Bala is drenched in sultry strings (similar in style to Janelle Monae’s recent ArchAndroid) that are the silky smooth foil to Tijoux’s hard-edged words. (However, again, when she sings, the juxtaposition effect is lost.) The beats and sampling also are generally executed well—though “Shock” occasionally falls into the all-too-common trap/trope (in Latin hip hop) of sounding like a Manu Chao song.

If my complaints about Tijoux’s singing voice turn you off, don’t dismiss the album outright–on La Bala Tijoux is as fine a singer as most around, and La Bala is a very successful fusion of jazz and rap. In a world where celebrated female emcees are still rare, though, it can be difficult to see one of the genre’s brightest stars drifting towards the jazz vocal category (which has been brimming with females since Billie Holiday and beyond). It’s Tijoux’s choice though—she’s got the talent to become a great rapper or, in all likelihood, a great singer. My own predisposition biases me towards the former, but I have to admit La Bala shows that Tijoux has got some talent in the latter as well.

La Bala is available now via itunes and will be on sale in other formats via Nacional Records on 1/31

Ana Tijoux – Shock

—Jon Behm

Minneapolis duo Tender Meat specializes in gritty, pulse-pounding electronica that combines a sort of free-jazz mentality with a Nintendo-on-acid aesthetic.  Until recently their only widely available full length recording was a live album recorded at the 2010 Heliotrope Festival entitled Ritz on the Fritz.  Ritz managed to capture the wild, loose energy of Tender Meat’s show while maintaining a degree of audio fidelity that is rare in low-budget live recordings.  And considering how good the band is live, when I heard that their newest effort, a record entitled Ripper’s World, would be a studio recording I approached it with some degree of trepidation.

Thankfully though, Tender Meat sounds every bit as crazy in the studio as they ever did in a live setting.  Ripper’s World flows with kind of cohesion that almost sounds as if the whole thing was recorded in a single take.  And if that is the case, it must have been one furiously manic recording.  Despite actual track breaks (something Ritz lacked) Ripper’s World manages to never lose its momentum.

The tape starts with the crackly-static bomb “Brawler’s Bay,” and goes on to fill the following forty minutes with a sound that is futuristically weird while maintaining a grimy low-tech façade.  The space of that time is crammed with a brilliant kaleidoscope of electronic exotica: field recordings, steam hisses, bizarre sampling, and 8-bit grooves, not to mention a whole lot more.   Standout track “Cockpit Dread” contains a furious collection of rhythms – some electronic, some real drums, that combine for a sound that could melt paint off the walls.  The follow up “Funnel” is no slouch either – it contains an amazing array of electronic noise, all composed around an 8-bit beat that sounds as if it was lifted from Konami’s Ninja Turtles Arcade game (I was actually convinced it was but a lengthy search seems to have proved me wrong).

Another major difference between the new material and Ritz is that in the studio recording, Tender Meat does occasionally give the listener a little space to breathe.   “If I am, I am I am” slows the album’s pace for a gloomy, dread-filled minute before “Jungle Stalker” ratchets the tension back up with a minimalist beat that utilizes pastoral field recordings to put the “jungle” into the “stalk.” “Tetsuo Shima” (named for the Akira anime character) also pulses with an atmospheric groove that is less in-your-face than the sound I have previously come to associate with the band.  Ripper’s World also never shies away from the bizarre – most notably in final track “Zuckerberg Vs. Winklevoss” which contains samples drawn from the infamous Facebook trial case.

While Ritz made me admire Tender Meat for their ability to take the listener on a relentless thrill-ride, the wider range of Ripper’s World makes for a much more dynamic listen.  The live format is excellent for capturing the excitement of non-stop bangers, however the studio has freed Tender Meat to explore a much more interesting spectrum of sounds and textures.  Ripper’s World really shows that not only are Tender Meat masters of the electronic sledgehammer, they are also artists who are capable of fine, nuanced details.

– Jon Behm

You can stream and pick up a copy of Ripper’s World through the Soothing Almonds Collective

.

Flashback Friday is a continuation of our Do Look Back series, in which we took time to look back at albums that are older, forgotten, or just plain undervalued albums from the past and give them a fresh listen. Our first Flashback Friday is the 1970 LP People are Together by soul artist Mickey Murray, an LP being re-issued by the local label Secret Stash.

It would be easy to make this review about the event and spectacle of Mickey Murray, of his record getting picked out of the dustbin of history and re-released by local imprint Secret Stash Records, and especially of his one-off show Saturday night at the Cedar in celebration of said re-issue—but I’m going to stick to the music. No matter the local pomp and circumstance around the release, if the record was a dud, it would put a definite damper on the festivities. Luckily the record is a resounding success. Hearing it actually makes the fact that it has been languishing in the shadows for more than four decades even more mysterious.

While Murray was brought in to take the place of James Brown on the King Record Label, his sound is definitely more refined and subdued than the work of the deceased King of Soul. The tracks on People are Together cover a range of soul music, from the gentle “Try a Little Harder” to the more upbeat material like the swampy organ-driven funk of “Fever” and the funky “Ace of Spades,” a song chock-full of sharp horns and impassioned vocals. Like many singers at the time, the album has tracks written and previously performed by other artists. The highlights are the shuffling funk of “Fat Girl,” an Otis Redding song, and the borderline psychedelic, wah-heavy take on the Motown classic “Money (That’s What I Want).”  Interestingly, part of the story why the album wasn’t widely released is that the title track was too racially-progressive in 1970 for southern black DJs to play. I assumed before listening that it would be a riotous, hellfire-and-brimstone song. I was wrong. “People are Together” is a solemn, heartfelt track about working towards equality. It fits alongside the impassioned work of Sam Cooke and Mavis Staples as a song that is both depressing in light of the social reality and uplifting in the espirited people who continued to fight. It pains your heart to think that a song with a message as simple and clear as “People are Together” was not only ignored, it was purposely swept under the rug. The song is the epicenter of the record, tying together the album and really cutting open a vein to highlight Murray’s thoughtful, unadulterated lyrics and powerful singing in a way that should have made him a gigantic star.

In a surprise to no one, the world isn’t fair. Mickey Murray and his excellent LP did not get the credit they deserved. Luckily, we have labels like Secret Stash around that not only do the time-intensive crate-digging for records like this, but reproduce them so they can get into as many people’s hands and minds as possible. People Are Together is a profound and powerful record that also manages to be funky and fun—a success that somehow slipped through the cracks, but is seeing the light of day again—still as relevant and entertaining as the day it was recorded.

If you missed our interview with Secret Stash about the back-story on this album and some info on the one-shot concert they are flying Murray in for on Saturday, read the interview HERE.

—Josh

The paint is barely dry on his excellent cassette, Time Giver and his late 2011 collection Desolations, but Jon Davis, aka Ghostband, is back in the saddle with another release. The latest release from the mercurial electronic soundscapist is the glitchy electronica of Husbandry, which he dropped yesterday on his Bandcamp page. The eight songs are mellow and subdued, with dusty dubstep beats and unwieldy synths weaving through the collection. As always, it is an engrossing collection of songs and a piece of art easy to get lost in. While I’m still finding my way around his last few releases, Husbandry is another notch in his belt and proof that patience isn’t always a virtue. Stream the record below or download it at the “name your price” price-point on the Ghostband Bandcamp page.

My introduction to Silky Johnson came via a comparison to my favorite beats producer du jour, Clams Casino, which is a risky way to find out about a new artist. Positively, I sought out this free beat tape from an artist that I ended up liking quite a bit. But on the worrisome end of the spectrum, this mixtape, in my mind, was competing with the amazing Rainforest EP and Instrumentals LP that Clams Casino released last year (the latter comfortably snuggling into my 10 favorite records of 2011).

My disdain with most current rappers has led me head-on into beat tapes, and Silky Johnson’s is one of the most fun tapes I have heard recently. Not as dramatic as Dilla or weird as Madlib, Hater of the Year is a joyous, silky and lush collection of __ jams. Album opener “Fuck the Money” is all arms-in-the-air euphoria, while other tracks range from the slippery groove of “Everything” to the stuttering beat and dark soul samples of “Fast Life.” The thing I like most about Hater of the Year is that it never feels like just a collection of his best beats or a hollow cadaver in search of some thick rhymes. The rich collection of songs stand up by themselves, although I am sure more than a few rappers would love to jump on most of the beats. While there is a lot of pretty standard “rap” beats, there are also songs like “Felicity” that meld clapping beats and lush synth flourishes in the style that makes Clams Casino’s work so appealing.

Many rap beat tapes can sound like they are either just songs scrubbed of vocals or tracks that really need a vocal hook to drive them forward. The best beat tapes are stand-alone efforts that don’t need anything but the music to tell a story. They are the kind of tracks that if, say, Ghostface, Black Thought, or Brother Ali jumped on them, yes, they would sound great, but the rappers would just be icing on the cake. Hater of the Year meets those standards in spades and is a highly enjoyable, fully realized beat tape that will put Silky Johnson on the map. You can stream the tape below. Otherwise, he is giving away the record for free download HERE.

—Josh

I’ve become something of a closeted post-rock fan; pining for the first couple of years when Explosions in the Sky really meant something, trying to avoid the use of the word “crescendo” in casual conversation. Leading a double-life is hard, especially when the genre that turned you into the person you are today has become a clichéd, hollow-out version of its former self. “I don’t want to be that,” I think to myself, “I don’t want to be a cliché of myself.” Nevertheless, when I hear solid post-rock song, I can’t help but bear my soul to the world (or at least to the sliver of Minneapolis’ music community that reads Reviler.)

That’s especially true when the band enlists a couple of members that set down guitars in favor of traditional string or brass instruments. Enter, Group of the Altos. This dodecatet (yeah, that’s right, twelve members) rocks the weeping catharsis like Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Sparrows Swarm and Sing, or A Northern Chorus in their prime, with forlorn strings creaking behind an impromptu ensemble of earnest-to-goodness singers. The Milwaukee-based collective, led by Daniel Spack of Collections of Colonies of Bees and Volcano Choir, combines folk storytelling with epic composition, dragon-breath jazz, and frigid minimalism.

Take a listen to the groups sorta-self-titled EP, Altos, below.

—Will Wlizlo (@willwlizlo)

It’s interesting how your expectations can shape your enjoyment of an album. When I listened to Cate Le Bon’s sophomore effort, Cyrk, I did so with a set of expectations. (Or “hopes” might be the better term.) I hoped that Le Bon would pursue an acid-folk direction in the tradition of the ’60s psychedelic Welsh scene that (in part) inspired her (Le Bon is from Wales). Her last record, Me Oh My, struck a fine balance between pop and acid folk, and with Cyrk I was hoping she would do more to tip the scales. Indeed the new record tipped the scales, just not in the opposite direction I was hoping. Cyrk is a collection of pop rock tunes more in the tradition of Stephen Malkmus than Welsh Rare Beat. For a while, this stylistic coup had me convinced that Cyrk was a lesser album. However, free from those oppressive expectations, I might think differently.

While Cyrk may not be as closely aligned with my own tastes as I would like, I have to admit that Le Bon has crafted some pretty fine pop gems.  Synthesizer-driven tracks like the titular “Cyrk” and “Fold the Cloth” contain some incredibly catchy hooks, in addition to enough unstructured weirdness to keep them from sounding conventional. “Julia” even features some pure moments of noise freakout.

Le Bon also seems to have found more confidence with the guitar (perhaps in part to sharing a tour with St. Vincent last summer). Lead track “Falcon Eye” demonstrates Le Bon has the chops to take a strong guitar lead, though she still generally leans on the synths for more adventurous forays. “Ploughing Out Pt. 2” is another good example: aggressive but steady guitar licks over a rollercoaster synth ride.

To my great relief, Le Bon hasn’t completely abandoned acid folk either. Her Nico-esque vocals still give very tune a psychedelic vibe, as do her bizarre and occasionally mystical lyricism. “Greta” drips with dreamy, surreal mood, and Le Bon employs a mix of rambling piano chords, trumpets, and her distinctly unorthodox enunciation to great success. “The Man I Wanted” also hums with a low-key, Velvets-vibe that Le Bon makes her own.

Cyrk may not exactly be the record that I was hoping to hear. For a finely-crafted pop record with psychedelic undertones, though, I do believe it is a success. While my own preference would be to hear Le Bon dive headfirst down the rabbit hole of psychedelic weirdness, I have a feeling that most listeners will prefer it her way. If Cyrk keeps growing on me, I may even eventually be inclined to take that stance as well.

—Jon Behm

Cate Le Bon will be opening for Veronica Falls on 2/17 at the 7th Street Entry.

Cyrk will be available via The Control Group on 1/17.

Veteran MC, activist, community organizer, muralist, and b-boy I Self Devine is a “hip-hop architect, marked for death, lost in the marketing”—true statement. All that will change, however, with the release of his sophomore record, the highly anticipated The Sound Of Low Class America, on Rhymesayers. The former Micranots MC has a rich history; he was around for the first wave of indie hip-hop and part of the pre-Rawkus era generation—he and the Micranots released Obelisk Movements in 2000 on Big Juss (of Company Flow’s imprint Sub Verse Music). The Micranots returned from Atlanta to Minneapolis and released The Emperor & The Assassin on Rhymesayers in 2003. After several 12-inches, cassettes, and records, the Micranots took a pause, and I Self Devine released his critically acclaimed solo debut, 2005’s Self Destruction on Rhymesayers.

LA State Of Mind is the first in a quartet of EPs slated to be released in advance of The Sounds Of Low Class America. It captures the essence of his early years growing up in South Central Los Angeles during the post-civil rights era, at the crossroads of The Black Panthers pro-black movements and the gang culture that followed.

The opening track, the brooding Gang Starr-inspired “Dream Crusher”, scores with Benzilla’s hard drums as I Self keeps it classic. “Cali was Iraq,” offers I Self, describing the urban landscape’s similarity to a war field. “I was raised by gangsters, pimps, and activists.” On the reflective “Zero To 5ive,” I Self warmly reminisces over lovely horns with echoes of Pete Rock. “Death In The Air” is aided by chopped samples of early classics. The bouncy “Diamond Movement,” produced by Oh No (of Black Starr and brother of Madlib) strikes a exuberant chord. Then there’s the hard-hitting jewel produced by The Alchemist (Eminem, Mobb Deep), “Thingz.” I Self welcomes the darkness: “A black cat crossed my path, it’s good luck today, I woke screaming I don’t give a fuck today, money falling out the sky like it’s Paid In Full, I’m Wood Harris, I’m Tiger Woods.” LA State Of Mind is the shining center-point. The elegant boom-bap of “Justice,” produced by Benzilla and I Self, shines light on those who are caught in the struggle and strive for love despite their surroundings. “Survive the hood, no congratulations.” The thunder of “Sweat Equity” takes a hyper-charged beat and paints the view of daily urban life. The revolutionary inner-hood narrative “Bastards Of The Party,” is another stunner produced by Benzilla and I Self that paints the streets of his youth with tales of drug raids, police violence towards the youth, and graphic urban reality-based stories. It closes with “Mecca” where I Self surveys his former stomping grounds with joy.

I Self Devine’s relationship to hip-hop is a thorough, dark, often complex view of the struggle (as related to growing up in a political environment) and informed by the birth of hip-hop. LA State Of Mind wins with tracks such as “Dream Crusher,” “Death In The Air,” “Diamond Movement,” “Bastards Of The Party,” and the emotional “Justice,” which all capture the essence of I Self’s journey. Strong production—mainly from Benzilla and I Self, alongside Oh No, Alchemist and Emazin—serves as a soundtrack to the to golden era. Like KRS-One, I Self’s goal is to inform and educate by dropping musical jewels. Righteous music that speaks to the minds those searching for the truth. This is “conscious” hip-hop for fans of Micranots, Immortal Technique, Mos Def, dead prez, Brand Nubian, Brother Ali, and Public Enemy. I Self Devine proves there are still those who treat their craft with great respect. As KRS One says, “Knowledge reigns supreme over nearly everybody.”

 —Jon Jon Scott

I Self Devine – LA State Of Mind (Free Mixtape) by rhymesayers

I Self Devine LA State Of Mind ep release show
Brother Ali
Muja Messiah
Alicia Steele & The Endeavors
DJ Kool Akiem, King Otto & Just 9.
7th St. Entry
Sun. Jan. 22nd

At first glance, Sensational Living, the new LP from local experimental artist Orchard Thief (Sam Molstad), is fairly similar to the aesthetic he’s been laying down on his last few tapes.  Like in his past material, Sensational Living is made up largely of Molstad’s looped, wandering guitar forays set against the backdrop of distorted vocals and beats.

Upon closer listen, though, there are a number of aspects that set Sensational apart from previous works and show Molstad evolving and coming into his own as an artist. For one thing, the nine tracks on the new record are often substantially and conventionally melodic. And I don’t mean this in a bad way. Molstad still weirds things up pretty well with stuff like “Cheerleader’s Returns”  psychedelic guitar squalls or “Dank Sprankles” minimally pastoral meditation to the tune of chirping birds. While maintaining its “experimental” uniqueness, the sound on Sensational is more palatable and mature.  Molstad’s highly-reverbed guitar tones and ghostly mutterings convey a lazy, melancholy mood. It’s mostly pretty music that doesn’t resort to tired pop tactics.

In his unorthodox sound, Molstad has forged a sort of future primitive aesthetic. It’s otherworldly sounding, even though the low-fi recording style brings the music distinctly back to earth. The choice of real-over-canned drumming grounds the sound even further.  Listen to lead track “Sensational Living” and you can get a sense of the music’s enveloping intimacy—it’s like hearing an old Roy Orbison song played at the wrong speed and filtered through a strong sedative lens.

Molstad’s older work had some rougher, more dissonant edges, but much of that has been smoothed away and molded into an equally complex—yet more agreeable—shape. There’s still pure noise and disharmony incorporated, though it’s to Molstad’s credit that they are done in such a way that heightens the record’s more ambient qualities.  Sensational Living presents a whole new level of musicianship for Orchard Thief, and hopefully he continues to evolve even further.

Orchard Thief’s record release for Sensational Living is tonight, 1/12, at the Hexagon. You can pick up a copy of the new LP there or via Space Lung/Land Breathing.

—Jon Behm