Records

ICEAGE

MIA DOI TODD

GANG GANG DANCE

COULTER

In April, we made Clams Casino’s

Instrumental Mixtape

the record of the month. Since then, Clams has released a large handful of fan-requested remixes and instrumentals. This fan-compiled tape is just as good as last month’s release. Seriously, this guy is one of the best rap producers around, and it’s just a hobby for him: He spends his days studying to be a damn physical therapist. So based.

LI’L AD

SHABAZZ PALACES

Black Up

Sub Pop

For a while, Shabazz Palaces was one of those lame “shrouded in mystery” groups—like MF Doom except with “Shabazz” in the name. Now that it’s widely known that Palaceer Lazaro is actually Ishmael “Butterfly” Butler of Digable Planets, the whole mystery act feels a little like the Aphex Twin/Tuss fiasco of 2007. Nevertheless, the production’s wacky and slick, the vocals are heavily processed without leaning on screw tricks, and the songs are actually constructed like songs.

TOM CRUZE

WAKA FLOCKA FLAME

Benjamin Flocka

Self-released

Another day, another Waka mixtape. If you’re getting “bored” by Waka’s lack of “artistic development,” you need to void the dust from your butt, turn the woofers up, and load up an angry fantasy from the ol’ memory bank. Then, when the time is right, turn your irrational hatred to action. This is breaking-shit music. Despite its appearing on Flockaveli, Flocka includes the amazingly Lugered “Grove St. Party” as a bonus track on this tape. I only bring this up to mention that the video for “Grove St.” features a dancing, rapping version of Waka’s bejeweled Fozzie Bear medallion.

BOW BOW BOW BOW BOW BOW BOW

DEL THE FUNKY HOMOSAPIEN

Golden Era

The Council

Del is an excellent MC. He’s also one of these dudes who spent years tripping, playing

Clockwork Knight

, and getting fired from majors. Nowadays he sounds pretty fried—which is bizarre because his technical skills are still totally intact. He’s like an aging, brain-damaged Chop Chop Master Onion still trying to ToeJam & Earl his way through the record.

JACKY MCDOUGLE

NINE 11 THESAURUS

Ground Zero Generals

Social Registry

These earnest young pillars of the community were discovered by Sam Hillmer from Zs. He’s the scraggly hippie-looking dude who plays the saxophone like he’s blowing up a puke-stained mattress. Nine 11 started as part of Representing NYC, Hillmer’s series that pairs Brooklyn public schoolers with noise-rock knob-twiddlers. Dark, dubstep-inflected beats from Gang Gang Dance and Skeletons are nice and all, but I’m mostly into Nine 11 because they once tracked down my roommate’s stolen computer. Never mind the fact that they were subletting the room from which it was stolen.

BEN SHAPIRO

BOW WOW FT. LIL’ B

Underrated

Self-released

It’s been great watching the Based God go totally legit. That said, it’s frustrating to hear him outpaced by Snoop Dogg’s former sarcophagus moistener. Come on, B! Why not bury MCs with that “Sending Shots”- or “Motivation”-type dirt on these high-profile collabs? It sounds like you’re sleepwalking, brah. I hate to say it, but I’m not even sure this verse is positive!

ACKMANG

What’s this genre called now that Intelligent Dance Music’s not a thing? It’s rap-inflected techno that keeps the baseheads dancing and never falls into that dreaded IDM stasis zone that prevents all but the most serious and/or high-on-2C-B listeners from making it through the album. Can we call it Glorch?

THANKS IN ADVANCE

TEARIST

Living: 2009–Present

Thin Wrist Recordings

Tearist remind me of that scene in

Mad Men

where the pretty girl gives Don Draper an old-timey BJ in the car, and he thinks to himself, “She wants me to know her. The problem is that I already do.” I want to like you, Tearist, and I basically do. It’s just that you are not significantly different from the other analog-synth goth bands who are using the same keyboards as you and have the same pretty-young- woman-who- probably-likes- choke-sex as their singer. If you come to town, I will come out and I will be into it, but I will not make eye contact when I pass your merch shrine.

SPRAYPAINT ON A TIT

M A N I K

Armies of the Night:

I Declare War

Ovum

JUNIOR BOYS

It’s All True

Domino

When I was growing up, I used to spend a lot of time listening to Wham! on my Walkman while lying on the hood of my parents’ car in the driveway and trying to hump my own thigh by twisting my legs around and gyrating my pelvis. This album reminds me of those simpler times.

KELLY MCCLURE

DAILY LIFE

My Time/Daily Life

Glass Coffin

I have a big old record player with that drop-down spindle so all the unpleasantness associated with playing a flexi disc is in full effect on my system. In order to keep this thin plastic sheet of a record rotating at a steady pace, I had to tape it to the turntable. There was a lot of hiss, and the needle could pick up all the textures on the rubber mat under the record, which gives everything an ugly thudding quality. It took me a few listens before I could hear it well enough to try an objective review. Both tracks have poppy drumbeats that make them easy to like. The first incorporates some organs and a symphony of synths, like a lamentation of beautiful swans. There’s lots of echo, because you’ve got to give the people what they want. Later some guitars come in.

NICK GAZIN

About a minute into this record there’s an acid lick and a tech pulse over huge dirty drums, and I’m like, “Tell me more!” But then we settle into a plodding 70 minutes of nothing-much New York City slow-house that I can’t believe is getting hype as “the next wave in American dance music.” You people really like super-boring drum programming mixed way out front don’t you? I mean, do you

really

want yet another record that “takes its inspiration from the cult 1979 film

The Warriors

”? And DUDE! You probably grew up on the internet too; you’re seriously putting those spaces between the letters of your band name? C o m e o n n n n n n n n n n n n n n n n n!

ARGON PEACOCK

THURSTON MOORE

Demolished Thoughts

Matador

Did you ever see that video where Nardwuar’s trying to interview Sonic Youth back when they were opening for Neil Young in the early 90s, and Thurston and Lee are full-on bullying him, then Neil passes by and Thurston shouts, “Hey, Neil!” and makes the smoking-weed gesture? Classic stuff. This acoustic solo dealy sounds a little more like Nick Drake than Neil, but it is nevertheless fine Sunday-afternoon joint-rolling muzak.

TERRY HAND

THE HEAD AND

THE HEART

S/T

Sub Pop

Here are some sad/triumphant “straight-talking” songs in the late-generation “American roots” pocket. I guess we can thank Wilco or, like, Saddle Creek for this. I’m sure I’ll walk into a coffee shop this year and catch a guy who’s trying to bang his semi-alternative/boring/sweet 22-year-old coworker by putting this record on. Fucking take my life, ugh.

CLOM GLOM

METAL MOTHER

Bonfire Diaries

Post Primal

Absolutely intolerable misty/breathy/moody faerie child-girl vocals suspended in a gray flan of overproduced nonideas, all recycled from some “Top 99 Moments in Trip-Hop” list that I’m sure must exist on some VH1 property’s “web-only-content area” if you look hard enough. The sleeve design looks like a shitty Genghis Tron t-shirt.

RR GONE

CHAD VANGAALEN

Diaper Island

Sub Pop

THE FELICE BROTHERS

Celebration, Florida

Fat Possum

The Felice Brothers got their start playing in New York City subway stations, which is where they should have stayed. This album is so evocative of being wasted at the Montrose stop at 2 AM while some bearded goon noodles out the theme from

The Godfather

on a banjo it’s making me want to barf Chex Mix and Wild Turkey 101 into the Felices’ guitar case like nobody’s business.

ALABAMA WORLEY

The woolly-faced singer of this band works for the New York State Parks Department and frequently finds six-foot-tall pot plants throughout Manhattan, which he is loath to yank out. One of the guitarists is an Asian food blogger (mightysweet.com/mesohungry) with immaculately styled hair who hosts cookie jamborees and chili-offs and once spent over $1,000 on a rubber-molded costume of a made-up superhero. I know these aren’t reasons to listen to a music album, but they are charming stories, and if you make the effort you may find their catchy Tom-Petty-on-mescaline ditties and genial southern charm to be the perfect soundtrack for forthcoming barbecues and summer shenanigans.

OBAMA BEAN LADEN

MIA DOI TODD

Cosmic Ocean Ship

City Zen

I can’t begin to imagine how hellish your middle school years have got to be if your middle name is “DOY.” My wife’s a single syllable away from “Sarah Queef,” and it gave her such a complex that

to this day

I can’t make fart sounds without watching her involuntarily tense up like a deer in the headlights. Anyway, every one of these songs sounds like “Midnight at the Oasis.” I know.

TEDDY LINKIN

Chad’s got an American Robyn Hitchcock vibe, which is a bit of a double-edged sword because the Soft Boys were great and Robyn’s spent 30 years making acid-charged weirdo pop without ever treading into goofy They Might Be Giants territory (Moxy Früvous territory if you’re Canadian) But at the same time, have you seen the crowd at one of that geezer’s shows lately? Total sausage party. Good luck with that, Chad.

MILTON CRAMER

VIRGIN ISLANDS

Ernie Chambers v. God

The Control Group

I grew up in the Virgin Islands, a fact I take great pride in. On the VI we call these kinds of dicknuggets “mudascunts.” It’s a portmanteau of

mother’s

and

cunt

and means that the person is so dumb that they must’ve just been born. In mainlander parlance, you might say “baby dicks.”

ALABAMA WORLEY

ICEAGE

New Brigade

Dais/

What's Your Rupture?

These are some angry, brooding Danish 17-year-olds, and they made an album that I predict will be on a lot of bloggers’ top-ten lists. Is there anything gayer than top-ten lists? Only my homosocial longing for the angry cuties of Iceage. Fucking Scandinavians have been doing punk better than anyone since the 60s. Side A is good, but it’s the B-side of this record that delivers the mind-melters. Angry, intense, urgent: These are words I am listing that describe the record because I am a lazy writer. It makes me feel a little like I want to run around in a tiny circle pit, in my kitchen, by myself.

PRINCESS PISS

WOMEN IN PRISON

Strange Waves 7-inch

HoZac

There’s a scene in an issue of

Hate

where Stinky has Buddy listen to a band and Buddy says, “They just sound like another bunch of Iggy and the Stooges imitators to me…” and Stinky describes them as “Good ol’ back-to-basics, no-nonsense, full-on, no-holds-barred, in-your-face ROCK-N-ROLL!” Oh, Stinky! These guys are just another nostalgia act. Save your dough.

SCREAMING FOR HEROIN

THE CLUTTERS

Breaking Bones

Chicken Ranch

LITURGY

Aesthethica

Thrill Jockey

I remember seeing the drummer for this group in an Emperor shirt and thinking, “That guy doesn’t know shit about Emperor.” I was so wrong. So, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so wrong. He is actually the King of Emperor, and he can blast a beat so fast you’ll wonder if time is slowing down or your heart’s just stopping. This record will blow minds, make you want to kill people, and it’s also not boring. My only wish is that they were ugly, hate-filled weirdos with bad skin who wore black long-sleeved t-shirts and corpse paint that got all over their shirts when they sweated. Fuckin’ pretty boys.

MARMADUK

COULTER

Grip Fast

Coulter Club

What good has ever come out of pretending you’re British? I guess Green Day got an opera and the Brian Jonestown Massacre kept the LA heroin trade afloat for the back half of the 90s, but is that really worth having every guy in the room mentally picturing their fist crumpling your windpipe while their girlfriend does that shitty girl-at-a-show dance? Is it really worth not being able to watch Party Down because every scene dealing with Kyle’s band is way too close to the bone? No it is not.

ARMAND HAMMER

NATURAL CHILD

Infinity Cat

They’ve got a song on here about how life’s no fun when you turn 21, but I’m way past 21, and you know what? ’Tain’t bad. I mean the living, not the music here. Maybe there’s some power-pop

Polar Express

thing here where I’m physically too old to enjoy nondescript chord bashing. Or maybe I’ve just forgotten how to love.

SNATCHERAL CHILD

It seems like the point of this CD is to sell it for $10 on the merch table at a hometown show to people who have seen the band play 15 trillion times. Seriously: We all have this band in our city. Who cares? As totally straight-ahead bar rock goes, you can do way worse, but I can’t imagine listening to this if you don’t either already know all of the words or need a reminiscing session.

CX ZOLA

GANG GANG DANCE

Eye Contact

4AD

In spite of the fact that a member of GGD used to live above me and was a total dick (audible sighs if it took too long for me to unlock the front door; ugly looks when I flashed a friendly smile), this album is one of my favorites of the year. It’s even more sampley than their previous releases and is one of those records you can listen to on repeat six or seven times without realizing that you’ve slowly become increasingly furious over the space of three hours.

DARK KARL

DREW SWINBURNE

THE CUTE ALBUM

Wham City

Drew writes all the music for VBS’s

The Cute Show

, and this is an entire album of just that! Fifteen tiddly little keyboard ditties and synthesized-dog-bark doodahs that will wheedle their way up your heartstrings and worm their widdle way into whatever part of the brain is generally accepted as the most adorable. Seriously, this shit is a 50mg cap of sonic Prozac. As an added bonus, in the same way that putting on “Yakety Sax” can turn the unfunniest footage of 9/11 into a guaranteed laugh riot, using these puppies as the soundtrack to

anything

will automatically up its

awww

quotient by an order of ten. Give it a shot! I just turned a bumfight outside the office into a Bosco cartoon!

SMELMER GREEBLES

THIS WILL DESTROY YOU

Tunnel Blanket

Suicide Squeeze

Hey, it’s another one of those plod-along-athon records. There’s that one guitar in the background with some infinite sustain on, the other guitar run through too many ZOOM pedals, and the super-polished

woosh-shcheeew

feedback howl. Oh, and a bunch of super-fancy computer stuff. Jeez, and a piano? For a band that sounds so much like Godspeed You! Black Emperor, you sure got some nougats following their lead on the two-words-too-long naming formula. Honestly, though, I like Godspeed You! Black Emperor—it’s great “writing music reviews” music.

ALEX DUNBAR

SCREENS

Dead House

What Delicate Recordings

STOP SHOUTING AT ME THROUGH SO MUCH REVERB! God! Am I supposed to think you’re in a cave? Sing

into

the microphone! And tell your friend to stop howling: Howling is unpleasant. Hence banshees. Also, get your drummer some Strattera; he’s making a big, beaty mess. And while you’re out, please pick up a thing of milk. You and your sister wolf through these cartons like you’re in

Alien Nation

or something. What? You don’t know AN? Well, I guess I’m old.

SOME KID’S MOM