positivexposure is a digital magazine that celebrates creative expression and positivity.
It’s a common misconception that stability and reliability are the safest and most rewarding qualities that we should strive for in our lives. The promise of an inviting bed and a hot meal at the end of the day are comforting ideals, things all people deserve. But to really feel something, to endure the surprise and adrenaline of the unexpected keeps us on our toes. In this way, Larry and His Flask bring refreshing flavor with their music. Where the industry is lacking individuality, unique musical texture, and something to proudly blast on the car radio, Larry more than picks up the slack.
All That We Know could easily be described a frenzied, fast-paced, multi-faceted balancing act of genres sewn together with precise musicianship that is “finger-pickin’ good.” Moving from roots in classic country to bluegrass infused with vocals not unlike Sublime’s Bradley Nowell providing pure melodic hooks, Larry and His Flask have accomplished what many more weathered acts would probably fail at: creating a record that transitions fluidly from one song to the next without becoming sloppy and disconnected in the process.
“Land of the F(R)Ee” opens up like something Johnny and the Devil would have battled to down in Georgia, with banjos and head-spinning picking parts supporting the lyrics “I see the blood-red dust on his soul. His tired boots are as black as coal,” but by the time “Manifest Destiny” begins with trumpets blaring, we’ve come full circle back into a place of rhythm, Mardi Gras, and more banjo-picking to boot (but still managing to round out the track with rag time style piano cued up to an old Dudley Do-Right film).
Hot Lights opens with a jarring and somehow symphonic bang. It is complete with an entire strings section and horns, a deep, grimy back beat, and a sky-scraping voice anxiously vociferating lyrics to its listener. The new EP starts off with “Because I Know”, a song that lets the audience know what Viper Creek Club is all about.
Though the group is heavily influenced by hip-hop, it seems much less apparent on their forthcoming 6-song EP than it has in their previous albums, Letters and Viperlust. Rather than resonating earthy beats and gritty rhymes, Hot Lights takes inspiration from electro-indie superstars like Phantogram and Justice, while vocals by Seattleite Mat Wisner echo a post-scene masters like Taking Back Sunday and more currently, 3OH!3.
Based around a city’s party scene most of the tracks on Hot Lights are upbeat and dancy; however, it closes on a rather somber note with “In The Living Room.” This song is the one that speaks to me most, perhaps because it gives listeners a taste of Wisner’s true artistic abilities; as opposed to featuring more repeating, thumping beats and overarching clichés, this song reveals Viper Creek Club’s atrophied love life and ambivalence toward what the future holds. Ending the EP on this note is perhaps one of the best choices Viper Creek Club made during production of this project. It shows us that the duo has much more talent than shirts-off-slam-drunk-party boys, and that in fact there is a deeper meaning to the music they make; perhaps more importantly, there is a greater artistic ability.
Overall, Viper Creek Club’s electro-pop, funky-disco-dance-your-ass-off sound is cohesive throughout the album, with the voice samples exceptionally well (“Count It Out”), and purposely ambiguous yet simple lyrics like “This is what is good/ Your skin on mine in the living room” will abide with listeners and keep them looking out for Viper Creek Club. Hot Lights drops February 14th. Buy it and dance, dance some more, mellow out in the end and then start it again.
Cincinnati’s Mixtapes provides snippets of adolescence and angst in the form of compressed guitar riffs, direct lyrics, and modest dual vocals. The simplicity of their eleven minute EP Hope is for People is like a snapshot of youth, with the title track acting as its anthem, chanting, “Let’s cut the bullshit and get to living.” This theme continues through the rest of the EP’s six song tracklist, making it easy to listen to a few times through before the melodies and simple guitar parts begin to blur together loudly and passive aggressively in an altogether effective manner. The very forthcoming approach employed by Mixtapes is an echo of punk rock predecessors Blink 182 with a little sprinkle of vocals reminiscent of Kimya Dawson on top. The acoustic track “Where I Live” takes a softer turn, ending the album on a somewhat peppier note. If you aren’t the kind who enjoys rough vocals and uncomplicated lyrics, Mixtapes may not be the band for you. But if, like me, you’re looking to forget adulthood for a few blissful moments and remember simpler times through simple songs, look to Mixtapes to guide your way.
“Doubt and thou shalt be corrected.”
That’s perhaps not the greatest philosophy to believe in when you’re a person who outwardly advocates positivity, but you’d be surprised at how often these words have crossed my mind these days. I’ve found myself in chance situations where something that is seemingly doubtful works out for the better and the discovery of SWTHRT’s Compact Disc is a prime example.
I think you can always get a sense of a band from the name and while I still don’t understand the cryptic meaning behind SWTHRT’s moniker, the first time around it gave me a bad feeling. However, once I actually took a turn to listen to the album, I was pleasantly to the point of unnervingly surprised.
SWTHRT have got that great echoing vibration to their music which is definitely reminiscent of bands like The Cure, Joy Division and to a further extent, The Velvet Underground. So right off the bat, you’re on the money if that’s your sound of preference. The hypnotic, continuous beats and ‘glitter raindrops on roses’ effect of the twanging synth guitar is not actually an uncommon thing seen in the realms of alternative music today. The Horrors strayed from their incessant skinny-jeaned screeching to do something like it on their album Primary Colours, yet I will come right out and say that SWTHRT do it better.
Shuteye Unison open like The Stooges would.
The opening of Our Future Selves is brash and bratty and sets one up for something they are ultimately not expecting - whether that’s a good or a bad thing is still a mystery to me. First off, I liked it. The second time around, I liked it even more. “Be Kimball” would be that Stooges-esque opener. It sounds and feels like a punchy punk standard should, in that it catches attention but differentiates itself with timid vocals hummed with a voice like velvet.
Track number two (“Our Future Selves”) is where it all changes. From punk we find an ambience of delicacy that sounds like an entirely different band altogether - except for those lovely vocals. Lovely is the only way they can be described overall. Not in a prim way, not in a posing way. Just in a simplistic, wholesome manner in that they are sweet to listen to against the backdrop of entrancing guitars and marching drums.
As the album moves along, different moods are dropped upon you. You’ve got the standards of happiness and potential anger but through that confused mess of buzzing vocals and defiant guitar arranged in satisfying disarray; as a listener you reach into the depths of implied loneliness and implied ecstasy. Everything is up to interpretation.
From what little knowledge I have of punk, I have determined that it’s a genre riddled with hits and misses. Fortunately though, I believe there have been more hits than there have misses. From the outset, I understand that it’s quite a political music - it carries a clear message, sometimes poignant, rather than just vomiting up a lot of waffle about rebellion and anarchy. However, as we all know simply from being people, having someone’s opinion wailed at you through stereo speakers can get rather tired. That’s when the trickiest formula comes to fruition; to have a band that plays not only great punk rock, but is loose on the politics too. This area is best occupied by bands like The Ramones and Iggy & the Stooges who have that magic combination of being darkly fun yet still driven by that raw power (pun intended). It’s a hard game to match up to, and it’s been attempted many times. Many people overshoot the balance completely; but then a collective from Illinois named The Heat Tape arrived to show them how it’s done.
Their debut opens with a track entitled “Spend It”, and it sounds exactly the way you’d expect it to sound - or, rather, exactly the way you’d want it to sound. The drums play out classically, an incessant adrenaline beat that shows no signs of giving up. The guitars screech and wail before folding into a steady rhythm. The vocals are scratchy and monotonous at times, and that sets up the blueprint for the entire LP. And while these might sound like negative features, they are absolutely not. They draw up the character of the band into this very glorious, very tangible domestic chaos.
A gentle orchestral score is what sweeps you into the intro track of Bars of Gold’s LP, which is quite bravely named Of Gold. Ambitiously titled? You could say that, but once a charming melody of electronic keys begin exploding like Pop Rocks over the grand instrumental, you can’t help but feel a little warmer about their pre-perceived assertiveness. The aforementioned opening track is called “Boss Level,” and at first listen it sounded a little goofy, but I think that’s what gives it such a great character.
“Heaven Has a Heater” follows, which is an altogether more vibrant and energetic track. It employs a whole world of bashing, breaking and guitar-shredding, but doesn’t really deviate from the standards you’d expect to hear on a punk album such as this. As far as tracks go, it pales in comparison to the track that succeeds it.
“Birds” is such a track, which begins with oddball acoustic that’s got a really visceral, folky, elemental feel to it that I adored. Something you would expect to be at odds with the tense twanging of Bars of Gold’s harder sound moulds in harmoniously and produces just the right witches’ brew you would want from a band like this. Of all, it’s the clear standout track on the album as it creates a real physical excitement as the tempo slowly gathers momentum in the depths of your eardrums.
Many times have I purchased an album on the strength of a single song I heard on the radio, only to find that it was the only song I liked on the collection; as if the artist had said, “Let’s try something different with this one,” struck gold, but then did not follow the vein. This time, as a listener, I decided to do something different. Rather than buying the album, I went to see The Mumlers at the Echo, who I had only liked because of the song “Coffin Factory”.
Spoiler alert: I was not disappointed. “Coffin Factory” is still probably my favorite song and now I know it also serves as a fair representative of their overall sound, which is some mystical blend of The Shins and Screamin’ Jay Hawkins. Not so much the “screaming” part as the darkness that his music presents.
I need to get something out of the way before I gush about how beautiful the sounds I just processed are.
When I recieved the press pack, I saw it included a file of lyrics for the seven inch. Upon opening it, I scrolled down a little and lo and behold was an exerpt from Night Gleam, a poem by Allen Ginsberg.
Congratulations, Montagna and your Mouth to Mouth, you’ve successfully won over my sensitivities before I’ve heard a single scrap of music you’ve produced.
My Ginsberg-loving nature aside, when listening to the title track of The Mouth to Mouth’s 7 inch Ultrapolyamorous, I realised this was not a song you listen to once or twice and decide upon your opinion solely from that. I find it intruiging that one song alone can be so diversified in genre and sound. One moment, it’s very much indie pop. The next, it’s basked in a glow of shoegaze ambience. The next, it’s thrust under the light of a psycho-electro Americana landscape.
It’s second track, “At Full Speed”, employs female vocal talent not unlike that of Isobel Campbell. This track is more easy going and accessible, akin to something Broken Social Scene may have wanted to come out with, but The Mouth to Mouth caught the worm and thought of it first. It still has that adorable character of mashing thirty songs into one, matching it quite perfectly with its predecessor.
Ultrapolyamorous, with it’s trippy alien noises and indecipherable vocals, makes for a thoroughly haunting listening experience. It’s individual, truly individual, which is a rarity among rarities. If this 7 inch is any inkling to Montagna and the The Mouth to Mouth’s new album, then fans and music lovers alike are in for quite the psychedelic ride.
The idea of vaudeville is a heady concept, I believe. The term, derived from the French expression voix de ville, or ‘voice of the city’ holds a whole world of ability to its core. Obviously, it’s about expressing a message of some sort, but vaudevillians expressed their message in an overtly theatrical manner - through dance, song, vivacious costumes and make up. Through vision, motion and sound. And that’s a little bit akin to the movement of punk rock, don’t you think?
In the description on The End of America’s Bandcamp site, the opening line states that, “The End of America is not some grand political statement. Instead, it is an honest attempt between three friends to return music to its purest form.”
Their debut album, Steep Bay, opens with a song titled “Are You Lonely”. Its trembling melody is an abstract anxiety communicated via guitar. It insinuates the feeling of isolation which is, as we know, a very frightening feeling at first. The song is very frightened, it is very timid… it seems to prey upon the childlike uncertainty of the unknown and all the emotions it can trigger. This is a very strong connective element that the album carries throughout, though it fades as the tracks gradually grow with confidence.
I hate driving in San Francisco. We, as an intelligent collective of organisms, need to hurry up and invent teleportation, because going to the city and trying to find parking is just mind boggling. That place is not meant for automotive transportation. When we finally did find parking it was because a limo had been rendered immobile, and only our compact car could traverse around it. The limo had gotten its mid section stuck at the crest of a hill and was teetering like a very, very classy see-saw. After we found a spot we made our descent to Columbus Ave, where the venue was located. Given the name (Bimbo’s 365), I expected to walk into a dive bar with crusty patrons, sighing at the influx of foreigners to see some clangy band in their haunt. I was surprised to enter a classy night club (whose capacity approaches 700), complete with bathroom attendants and a coat check. At the entrance were the merchandise tables for the two bands that were performing: Shilpa Ray And Her Happy Hookers were opening for Man Man. I’m not familiar with the opening act, but I have been a fan of Man Man for quite some time. This will be the first time that I have seen them as a headlining act (as opposed to an act at a large-scale music festival), where I have read that they are more free to give in to their own whimsy.
Shilpa Ray took the stage with a drum intro reminiscent of “Sing, Sing, Sing.” The four-piece was led by a frail twenty-something dark-skinned woman playing a harmonium while alternating between singing, shouting, and whispering. I am still completely confounded by her ability to go from a primal guttural scream immediately into a sweet sounding alto melody. The opening song, “Stick It To The Woman” was a perfect introduction to their sound as it encapsulated all the dynamics and styles of the songs that followed. The band spans many genres (I would define them as 80’s Themed Doo-Wop-Revival Grunge), as does the song: the swinging drum beat continues as the vocals sing long drawn out forlorn melodies until the band seamlessly begins a I-iv-V-VI progression (“Earth Angel,” anyone?) and then charges head on into a noise collage with Gospel shouts and screams.
I was floored.
The next song was “Natural Selection,” a bouncy, doo-woppy, piece featuring a call and response chorus. You don’t realize what you’re dancing to unless you stop to listen to the call and response:
First you get a tumor (First you get a tumor)
Then you get the cancer (THEN you get the cancer)
Then you get the chemo, but you never get the cure.
Combining sad lyrics with a peppy song is nothing new, but they have raised that concept to the Nth degree with this song.
If there’s any popular trend in music, it’s that of the throwback. You’ve got The Kills channeling The Velvet Underground’s raucous sixties theme, Imelda May pulling influence from rockabilly greats such as Wanda Jackson and even Lady Gaga’s more-than-obvious mirroring of Bowie’s glory days.
Ghost Heart’s The Tunnel has drawn comparisons to Vampire Weekend and Animal Collective, but a listen to the album proves that the Michigan foursome have a sound uniquely their own. At the opening of the album is “Whoever You Are”, a minute-and-a-half long introduction that left me a bit disappointed – a nicely put together instrumental track, but lacking in much imagination. However, as the first track led into the second, all fears were subdued. “Human Element” and the following tracks on The Tunnel show why Ghost Heart has been getting much deserved recognition.
The album definitely gives indie music lovers a little something extra, a little bit different. Personally, I think The Tunnel fills a gap in the industry – it’s not as predictable as some independent albums have been recently, but it has a familiar feel and quality that fans will appreciate. “No Canticle” is a good example of this. The track is perhaps one that has allowed critics to make comparisons to other bands, but it has its own qualities that make it far and away something new and exciting. A steady and enthusiastic percussion line behind somewhat haunting vocals in “No Canticle” prove that Ghost Heart haven’t fallen into the trap of easily sellable indie pop music. I find it to be very easy to listen to and feel that it’s probably an amazing piece of work when performed live.
Although I can see where vocally some similarities can be made between Ghost Heart and bands like Vampire Weekend, I think it’s unfair to make too many comparisons like this. Ghost Heart clearly has their own sound, which is realised through the use of interesting percussion arrangements, bells, and unexpected vocals. The band has a strong musical foundation and a huge potential for growth onwards and upwards. The Tunnel’s eight tracks hover around six minutes each, but I found the album to be something I could listen to frequently, and wished for more of it. It will be exciting to see what direction Ghost Heart takes and what comes out of the band in the future.
Perfection is a hard concept to grasp. What makes something perfect? It seems that in today’s world people are striving to achieve this ultimate goal of perfection, however, in my mind, it is the entities that contain imperfections that measure the most character. James Blake’s riveting debut full length is a perfect example of what I see as true character in imperfection.
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