New York City’s Guggenheim Museum is recognized for its diverse collection of fine art, running the gamut from traditional Impressionist paintings to more eclectic contemporary pieces. The Guggenheim Foundation has museums across the globe, each boasting works at least as varied as those in New York, nearly making the Foundation’s name a metonymy for myriad artistic influences and styles.
Dublin-based folk-pop duo The Guggenheim Grotto, made up of Kevin May and Mick Lynch, has taken the ideology of its namesake to heart. At times, May and Lynch sound like they are channeling a thoughtful, “The Sounds of Silence”-era Simon and Garfunkel. At other points on its sophomore album, Happy the Man, the duo relies on bubbly, foot-tapping-inducing pop beats. And every now and then, TGG adds an element of surprise, like the a tinge of electronica and female harmony that appear on “Fa Da Da Dee.”
Even TGG’s fun, seemingly mindless songs boast philosophical lyrics, setting the duo apart from the more superficial pop outfits circulating radio airwaves. “Her Beautiful Thoughts” could fall into the trap of a trite song about post-break-up depression (toward the end of the song, the repeated lines of, “She used to say / ‘Let’s get naked and get under the sheets’” is directly followed by, “I just can’t seem to get out of bed anymore”), draws upon some deeper ideas. The song’s protagonist recounts what he misses about his ex, which, in addition to the aforementioned naked bed time, includes her titular “beautiful ideas.” “She used to say that magic was the edge / And science and God, they were the sides of a copper penny piece,” May and Lynch sing.
On the other end of the aural spectrum is “Philosophia,” a folksy and aptly titled look at life. Velvety vocals croon lines such as, “Perhaps no perfect way exists at all, just many different kinds.” Musically, the song has an ethereal feel and includes the distant sound of running water, as if the singers are sitting in the woods next to a babbling brook, contemplating ancient thinkers.
The one-line chorus of “Philosophia” reflects the sound and ideology of TGG: “Oh, to be a work of art.”
The Fray might think they know how to save a life and Jack’s Mannequin may make one helluva mix tape, but neither band brings together passionate piano arrangements, rock riffs and intelligent lyrics like rising Cincinnati-based trio Seabird.
With its captivating 2008 debut ‘Til We See the Shore, the band, which is currently on tour with Jars of Clay, blends these three instrumental and lyrical elements like a group of seasoned veterans. Rather than relying too heavily on the ivories, Seabird crafts songs that are a charming mix of musical influences.
This varied instrumentalism is only complemented by lead singer and pianist Aaron Morgan’s crooning, which traverses the line between raw and refined. The result is a sound driven by both classical chords and heavy bass.
Seabird’s first single “Rescue” is a lush and infectious track in which Morgan sings, “I’m pushing up daisies / I wish they were roses / I feel like I’m drowning / But nobody knows it.” Fittingly, ABC used the song to promote its recently cancelled show “Pushing Daisies.”
But the band’s standout tracks are “Falling For You” and “Maggie Mahoney.” While “Falling For You” successfully captures the eternally-relatable experience of longing, the latter features rapid, spoken lyrics and a retro piano waltz delightfully reminiscent of the 2006 radio reign of Panic at the Disco.
With a sound that is both distinctive and emotionally engaging, Seabird is undoubtedly ready to take flight in the world of popular piano rock.
“If it cuts like a knife I will kill you where you stand,” snarls Joe Costello, lead singer and guitarist of The Tunics in the chorus of “A Winter’s Tale,” a torrid tale of a love triangle that meets a violent end. Violent lyrically as well as stylistically, the fiery Britpop trio roars through the anthemic rock songs of its 2007 debut release Somewhere in Somebody’s Heart. Though the band has been relentlessly compared to the genre’s vaunted quartet, The Arctic Monkeys, it is more sophisticated, darker and scarier than even its chilly contemporary’s Favourite Worst Nightmare.
Rather than lamenting the failed love of fluorescent adolescents, The Tunics’ lyrics center on members’ experiences growing up amidst the rise of knife and gang culture in the dodgy underbelly of London. “But I know where I can came from, the land of weapons and fists / I understand the power of song, and that dreams are made of this,” croons Costello on the track “Shine On,” imparting his faith that music can overcome circumstance.
But the thematic frustration with gang violence comes to a furious head on the following track “In The City.” Costello takes out his exasperation on his guitar as he whips and thrashes through the opening power chords. As Costello’s voice cuts in, he describes the plight of a kid who goes out to the club on a Friday night only to be violently mugged at knifepoint. “What can you do when you know he carries a knife?” Costello asks in the chorus, and quips sarcastically, “But that’s the price you pay for having fun.”
Instead of the adolescent laments of unrequited love and growing pains that provide the fodder for the ditties of other Britpop bands, The Tunics conquer a more serious subject matter with feverish passion, sophistication and devilish wit.
The only things April showers seem to be bringing to Atlanta right now are gray clouds and cold winds. Although the Weather Channel appears to think this depressing gloom won’t be moving on anytime soon, you can go ahead and kick off the rubber boots right now. That’s because rising indie pop trio Plushgun has enough musical Vitamin D to make summer vacation seem only seconds away.
With sunny, synthesized beats and sweet keyboard melodies, Plushgun rose to fame out of frontman Dan Ingala’s pint-sized Brooklyn apartment. Originally a solo project, Plushgun, which Paste recently dubbed a “lush, bedroom dance pop wunderkind,” released its debut album Pins & Panzers in mid-February to rave reviews.
The album’s hit single, “Just Impolite,” showcases the band’s haunting knack for bringing together the wildly opposite emotions that often characterize real-life relationships. Barely surpassing a whisper, Ingala sings, “Are you frightened by perfection? / Is this who you are, not who you want to be?” to the beat of a sugary keyboard composition. The song is a desperate and — although lyrically denied — obsessive attempt to hold onto love, masked by a bouncy electronic sound.
In fact, lyrics about the loss of love pop up pretty often throughout Plushgun’s instrumentally upbeat songs. In the nostalgic “A Crush to Pass the Time,” Ingala laments being confined to the friend zone. Similarly, “Let Me Kiss You (And I’ll Fade Away)” begs for one last embrace to a background of brief banjo riffs, hand claps and uplifting acoustic guitar. “Dancing in a Minefield,” on the other hand, waltzes between emotional vulnerability and political commentary, themes highlighted by swelling synthesizers.
Plushgun’s variety affords the band a Death Cab meets The Postal Service meets MGMT sound that perfectly captures the conflicting emotions of love and loss. Astronomically, summer doesn’t start until June 21 this year.
In The Bird and the Bee’s “Polite Dance Song,” the opening track of its 2007 EP, Please Clap Your Hands, Inara George sings “I try to be as coy as I can / But I wanna see your naughty bit / Would you be nasty with me?” Though most of the synth-pop duo’s songs are not quite so risqué, they do share a playful mischievousness that is invigorating.
Indeed, the band started as a playful experiment when, as members Inara George and Greg Kurstin describe on their MySpace page, they “met a few years ago, discovered a common love of jazz standards … nerded out for a couple hours playing every song they knew … and then wrote a record together.”
Kurstin brings a tremendous amount of musical nerdiness and skill to the table. Having written or produced tracks for the likes of Sia, Lilly Allen, Beck and even Britney Spears’ recent come-back effort, Circus, he has a wealth of musical experience that he employs in the masterful musical arrangements of The Bird and the Bee.
On “Polite Dance Song” Kurstin drops a funky, laconically sliding hip-hop beat that introduces George who sings with a with a slow rhythmic flow. The soprano’s upper-register rapping feels both ironic and refreshing.
They do this again in the track “F–king Boyfriend,” where Kurstin mixes frenetic electronic beeps and chimes with jaunty dance beats and synths that glissando kaleidoscopically through the song. In this song about an impatient lover, it sounds as if George stifles a laugh as she sings, “Would you ever be my, would you be my f–king boyfriend”
The key to the success of Kurstin and George is that they don’t take themselves too seriously, experimenting with different musical styles while still keeping their music consistently light and lively. They pepper mischievous humor onto every track, creating music that is perfect for celebrating the closing hours of a week dedicated to Dooley, the Lord of Misrule.
Michael Angelakos is a lover. He’s the kind of lover who sees romance in terms of techno beats and freakin’ on the dance floo’. He’s the kind of lover who digs on Kanye’s “Love Lockdown” and Randy Newman’s “You’ve Got a Friend in Me” simultaneously. He’s the kind of lover who professes his desire of a woman by shrieking out brilliantly feminine falsettos. But he is, nevertheless, a lover.
Angelakos, the lead vocalist of electro-pop up-and-comers Passion Pit, presented his then-girlfriend his musical project, Chunk of Change, as a belated Valentine’s Day gift. Chunk of Change, the four-song EP/ode-to-love, eventually leaked into the Emerson College community, developing Passion Pit a viral buzz and following around the Boston area.
Passion Pit slowly developed into a full band, reissuing its EP and touring with artists such as Death Cab For Cutie and Girl Talk. Its sound is boundlessly energetic, tightly focused and hook-filled.
On tracks such as “Cuddle Fuddle” (all in all, the poorest choice of song title on the EP), Passion Pit experiments with odd synth choices and ooey gooey lyrics such as “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair / Things are better when you’re with me.” Many of the keyboard instrumentals sound as if they are being tortured, with overly distorted xylophones and computerized pianos seemingly begging for mercy. Luckily, the band never strays too far from pop goodness, singalong choruses and hooky, Walt Disney-esque lyrics.
“Sleepyhead,” Passion Pit’s love note to dance floors and narcoleptics everywhere, shows the band at their best — and weirdest. The song contains samples of Irish harp playing by Mary O’Hara matched with the perfectionist keyboards of Angelakos and pianist Ian Hultquist. Angelakos’ extremely high-pitched falsettos fit in perfectly alongside MGMT-ish electronics and disco-influenced bass licks.
Passion Pit’s debut album, Manners, is due out May 18, promising to deliver more love to the world. The part of the world that grooves on eccentric techno, that is.
Studies show only seven percent of what we say is communicated through actual words. If that statistic was something like 77 percent, many of Coeur de Pirate’s listeners might have absolutely no idea what she’s singing about.
That’s because Coeur de Pirate, the stage name of 19-year-old Canadian singer and pianist Beatrice Martin, sings entirely in French. The Montreal-based songstress catapulted to MySpace fame in January when Quebec photographer Francois Vachon posted an adorable YouTube video of his baby playing to the bouncy piano-pop of Coeur de Pirate’s “Ensemble.” Now, the singer’s self-titled debut is fighting for the honor of Francophone Album of the Year at this year’s Juno Awards (Canada’s version of the Grammys), and the album’s mesmerizing single, “Comme des Enfants,” recently shot to the top of one of the country’s premiere radio charts, becoming the second entirely French song ever to reach No. 1.
“Comme des Enfants,” a charming composition that sounds a little like falling in love for the first time, showcases Martin’s extensive piano skill — honed from 16 years of practice — as well as her captivating, sweet voice. She softly coos, “Et il m’aime encore, et moi je t’aime un peu plus fort” (“And he loves me still, and I love you a little stronger”), but like the Hopelandic jibberish of Sigur Ros, Coeur de Pirate’s lyrics are best understood as emotive sounds supported by exquisite instrumentals.
“C’etait Salement Romantique” is similarly stunning, with Martin’s swelling choruses accompanied by strings and acoustic guitar. On “Francis,” the singer’s performance flirts with the line separating Regina Spektor and The Dresden Dolls, and her nearly spoken lyrics give the song a whimsical appeal.
Some experiences — the snap and crack of a broken heart, the weightlessness of a first kiss — know no language barrier. Lucky for us, neither does Coeur de Pirate.
Sometimes when musicians try to look intelligent by making literary references, the attempt has the exact opposite effect. The first song that comes to mind is Taylor Swift’s crossover mega-hit “Love Story.” Somewhere along the line, it seems as if Swift failed to learn that Romeo and Juliet are star-crossed lovers, meaning their lives are a string of tragedies, not happy endings. Unlike the uplifting tale told by the poppy country tune, the play ends with a lot of blood and tears. And for the record, Miss Swift, your line “You were Romeo, I was a scarlet letter” makes no sense. Hester Prynne – who, last I checked, was absent from Shakespeare’s classic – was an adulterous woman with a slightly demonic child, and that has very little to do with the message you’re trying to convey.
Enter Company of Thieves, a trio from Chicago that has a better grip on the literary world. “Oscar Wilde,” the single from the group’s debut album, Ordinary Riches, makes muted references to some of the same themes – including the inescapability of time and shallowness – as the author’s works. But lines about “porcelain teacups” and waltzing on front porches, especially when paired with singer Genevieve Schatz’s breathy, emotive voice, balance out the heavy tones and brighten the repeated line, “We are all our own devil and we make this world our hell.”
But this darkness doesn’t pervade everything by the group. “New Letters” gives a heart-wrenching account of someone who refuses to give up on a relationship, relishing its most simplistic elements. “I fell in love when you were brushing your teeth / Over my kitchen sink,” Schatz nearly whispers as the song opens. The track crescendos until its final note, when Schatz sounds as if her own determination might break her.
It’s the backing from guitarist Marc Walloch and drummer Mike Ortiz that really adds dimension to what could otherwise be classified as simple ditties. Just when you think you’ve figured out Company of Thieves, the band refuses to concede to your expectations. After a long pause in “Under the Umbrella” that seems to signal the end of the song, a rock riff on the guitar starts the whole thing up again and takes it in a brand new direction. The album includes three acoustic versions of songs, on which the group successfully experiments with soulful piano chords and violins instead of the traditionally rock-friendly guitar and drums.
Although Schatz usually sounds like a sweeter, less guttural Regina Spektor, she boasts a wide variety of vocal talent, nearly wailing over the drum fills and minor chords of “Old Letters.” Company of Thieves isn’t afraid to ignore the unwritten rule that the folk-pop-rock set should start out with short-and-sweet tunes. These shifts in vocals, instrumentation and tempo work to make each song an expansive landscape, and nearly half of the album’s tracks run past the five-minute mark.
The Windy City has become a sort of mecca for outstanding, intelligent people. Actor/director/producer/wonderman Zach Braff graduated from the city’s Northwestern University; Oprah Winfrey and President Obama call the place home. Schatz and co. may not be as well-known as any of these folks, but they certainly have the talent and intellect to someday join these prestigious ranks.
Air France is not a band. Not really. Air France is a bird singing happily to its friend while constructing its nest in a palm tree. Air France is a couple on their honeymoon, sipping adult beverages out of coconuts and watching the sunset.
Air France is sex on a beach.
By combining influences from the Balearic Islands with the warmth and beauty of the shoe-glaze genre, Air France creates breathtaking, sublime music, transporting listeners to an exotic and incredible new world. Like DJ Shadow or RJD2, the group merges older recorded material, such as animal noises and personal conversations, with catalog instrumentation and some of their own digital electrobeats. Truly, the Swedish duo, who chose to ironically share a moniker with the Paris-based airline, knows how to spin.
Air France’s latest EP, No Way Down, borders on aleatoric — meaning “random” — music, by carefully piecing together conversations, oohs and ahhs, tropical birds, children laughing, ocean waves and instruments like horns, strings and synths. Most of the tracks lack vocals completely, sounding something like the background music you would find at a travel boutique night club.
The track “June Evenings” opens with a far-off woman’s voice bemoaning the changing of seasons: “Spring has arrived early here, a time for lovers / And it is as if the season mocks my sadness.” These melodramatic words launch the song into trumpets, indecipherable vocals and even a verse of whistles.
On a standout track, “Collapsing at Your Doorstep,” Air France combines marimbas, exotic drums and a hypnotic vocal pattern to create the most danceable and accessible tune on the EP. The song gives off a worldbeat vibe, as if the entire universe of Air France takes place under a canopy dance party on some distant beach.
Luckily for the listener, Air France will fly you there, free of charge.
Generally speaking, I’m not a particularly sensitive person. I laughed my way through “P.S. I Love You,” only a handful of people has ever seen me cry and, in my opinion, the only redeeming quality of Valentine’s Day is the extraordinary amount of chocolate consumption. And as a rule, I prefer that the music I listen to reflects this side of me. It doesn’t need to be an extreme representation of this — screamo and death metal don’t really float my boat — but something a little on the dark side usually catches my attention. Some minor chords and lyrics that reflect disdain of any kind — for love, capitalism or whatever the complaint du jour seems to be — fit the bill.
And this is why I find it so bizarre that I have such a soft spot for the Submarines. The majority of the songs by married couple John Dragonetti and Blake Hazard are as sweet as the title of their sophomore album, Honeysuckle Weeks, would indicate.
Musically, the songs are sometimes bouncy (“Submarine Symphonika” and “Swimming Pool,” for example) and sometimes dream-like (“Xavia”), but they are always bright, with basic, steady beats that could easily sound at home on a children’s record if they were paired with lyrics about fairy tale characters.
And admittedly, many of the Submarines’ lyrics, mostly delivered by Hazard’s pure, clear voice, are simple and innocent. But the duo also boasts clever songwriting that gives its songs a distinctly adult feel. “You, Me and the Bourgeoisie,” with its juxtaposition of manufactured and pure love, would impress any Marx scholar.
Even on “Swimming Pool,” one of the duo’s sweetest and most playful tunes, Hazard and Dragonetti show off their writing chops with creative imagery (“When I asked you to throw me a line / That’s when you pulled me out by the heart strings”) and personification (“Never mind what logic says / I say logic’s a guy who oughta empty his pockets”).
By making music that is both smart and a peppy guilty pleasure, the Submarines can brighten up pretty much anyone’s day. Who knows — I might even give “P.S. I Love You” another chance one of these days.
Editors at The Emory Wheel, Emory University's student newspaper, sound off on their favorite albums and artists of the moment. You can find more info here.
