Formerly car-crash tropical punks, the LA outfit have sped up and denaturalised the rhythms, introduced some 80s style synth sounds - how original - and tuned into Continental electronic style du jour coldwave. The result makes them sound like a disco-punk Dead Can Dance
The new group identity of Jason Lytle and Aaron Burtch of Grandaddy plus two of their old friends Earlimart. With lots of keyboards and wryness the former band isn't too far from the surface, especially when they were having fun and Lytle wasn't on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Mind you, we (relatively) quite like being Leicestershire, and at least we know how to pronounce it.
The sensitive, Camera Obscura without the strings-esque one that starts with a 1960s balladeer bassline and namechecks and quotes the Just Joans. Great people, great times despite themselves. According to all sources, and shared with Meursault and Fuzzy Lights, they're playing End Of The Road on the 9th. Yeah, we were under the impression that the festival started on the 10th as well.
We've talked about Summer Camp's connection to lazy hazy John Hughes nostalgia, and this is what the American take on much the same source materials is like, right down to their being a male-female duo, all Beach Boys haze, sunny reverb, fuzzy hints and lovelorn sentiments. Bethany Cosentino, it's said, is the paramour of Nathan Williams AKA Wavves. She must have her private life work cut out.
Wondered what they'd been up to? Changing two thirds of the band, according to their last blog, which is as good a reason as any for delaying things even if it doesn't engender a great sense of self-worth ahead of September's debut album. They still sound like white rose grunge, surf-punk harmonies against crashing power chords not too far from early thus good Foo Fighters
A couple of these Californians have been making up the numbers in Liars' live format recently, but in the home format they're a lot looser and lighter, doing for Prince dance-funk what Dirty Projectors did to R&B tropes. Video filmed in Iceland during the volcanic eruption, because someone was bound to set a video there
Another BSM band, they're giving this away gratis from their site from Monday, all crashing post-hardcore riffs and charge to the border. The ghost of Reuben is evident, but that's clearly no bad thing.
According to their press release the singer is registered blind and the guitarist was born in Apartheid-era South Africa, so they're not exactly stinting in all-encompassing points of interest for interviewers. That it sounds like an East London DFA/The Rapture (with a healthy dollop of A Certain Ratio and the usual synth interregnum) somehow doesn't make their art-disco-pop underthought for once.
Recently seen thwacking an inaudible syn-drum somewhere round the back of Mark Ronson, this is more proof that not only is she wasted if that's going to be her primary publicity but there's something conflicted about her solo pedigree. From the slow burn wash of Find Me Out, we move to shoegaze pedals, Johnny Marr flourishes and imperious vocals.
We trust you've streamed this already. First actual single from Kaleide and it's business as usual, if somehow more focused, constantly climbing towards some peak that never quite arrives but expands a lot of energy getting there. Also contains the line "I know there’s a precipice, not saying it’s a piece of piss". It's their own post-coital/post-rock lyrical moment, we're saying.
Sometimes in the hunt for instant thrills this bit overlooks a lot of the slow burning folky stuff that makes its inexorable way into the end of year lists. Much of that stuff shares a vague ballpark with this - Bon Iver seems too easy a comparative point for the high vocals and close-miked John Martyn/Nick Drake-ish arrangement. Check all these tracks out, though, if so inclined as they're all promising in their own ways. Plus they told us they're fans of STN, and unlike those few PRs who start emails by namechecking a recent post before posting a link to something they knew we wouldn't like if they were proper readers we believe them.
You'd hope a band called that would be any good, wouldn't you? You'd almost call what these Italians do party darkness, full of pounding percussion, crossthread shout-outs and splintered post-punk reminiscent of a less Afro-ed Abe Vigoda (old style)