Super-producers N*E*R*D return to form, Murder by Death evoke the ghosts of the mythical lost highway and Peter von Poehl punches in at welterweight.
N*E*R*D. Seeing Sounds. Star Trak.
When a chart-gobbling production duo indulge their metal-head tendencies, there is generally cause for alarm.
However, sighs of relief were expelled in 2001 when the Neptunes (Pharrell Williams and Chad Hugo, whose eye-popping digital soul revitalised the likes of Britney, Justin, Kelis, and Gwen Stefani), unleashed In Search Of . . .
This seemingly terrifying premise, under the N*E*R*D moniker, not only rose above the turgid self-indulgence that many expected from the knob-twiddling wunderkinds, but also managed to make Atari-derived blips palatable.
The turgid self-indulgence appeared in 2004, upon the release of the abysmal Fly or Die, and a cursory glance at the sleeve-notes would suggest that third album Seeing Sounds is destined for the same bargain bins: "We intend for you to listen to this while jogging, on long drives, commercial plane rides or simply at gatherings filled of interesting debaters and great thinkers [sic]".
The feeling is compounded with the inane introduction, which attempts to explain the science behind synaesthesia (the phenomena where one literally "sees" sounds).
Yet once Professor Williams ditches this paper-thin conceit, the rubbery basslines, clipped guitars, and syncopated minimalism that once sounded like the future again come to the fore.
The frenetic genre-blur that is Everybody Nose, Love Bomb's trip-hop-meets-mariachi safari, and the jazzy inflections of Spaz are stark reminders that we're dealing with two of the modern era's most innovative and fearless producers.
It's this fearlessness which renders Seeing Sounds haphazard, scattershot, and above all else, a welcome return to form.
- John Hayden
Murder By Death. Red of Tooth and Claw. Vagrant.
Murder by Death, winners of the award for band name most likely to inspire the moral majority's confidence, have been peddling a dark, hypnotic brand of lo-fi rootsiness since 2002.
Their fourth long-player, Red of Tooth and Claw, is a similarly taut effort, though unlikely to acquire much airplay.
The CV of producer Trina Shoemaker (Queens of the Stone Age, Emylou Harris) should give a solid indication of the band's sound; their Gothic Americana has enough spiritual longing and back-porch picking to bring to mind the latter, while it is the moody, delinquent atmosphere of Josh Homme and company that power the likes of Fuego! and Rumbrave.
Vocalist Adam Turla takes his cues from rock's dark lord Nick Cave, with his dusky baritone enlivening opener Comin' Home and the lush A Second Opinion.
Likewise, Turla's lyrics are preoccupied with blood, romance, irrational fear, poetically dysfunctional relationships, and, ultimately, death.
Thankfully, they too are rife with the bleak humour that the touchstone leavens his most black-hearted characters with ("baby, its been so long/ that even the roses' hips are turnin' me on"), transcending the tag of mere copyist, to full-on disciple.
Yet if such brooding masculinity is too derivative or melodramatic for your liking, there's plenty of driving guitar, nimble bass, and bucolic cello, notably on the raggedly beautiful Theme (For Ennio Morricone) that still manages to wonderfully evoke the cheap motels, flickering neon, and ghosts that populate that mythical lost highway. - John Hayden
Peter von Poehl. Going To Where The Tea Trees Are. Speak n Spell Music.
Berlin-based Peter von Poehl marries wispy folk-rock with esoteric pop in his debut album, Going To Where The Tea Trees Are.
It's charming enough, posing the half-Swedish, half-German singer-songwriter as a thinker of deep thoughts, but ultimately lacks the one or two special songs that would lift it above its welterweight limitations.
Von Poehl's voice is the primary reason for the album's subdued dynamic; his delicate pipes fare well in uncluttered settings, but sound thin when things get busier.
And despite his impressive vocal range, there's a sameness to his mannered, soft-sung delivery.
The sound is warm throughout - lower-register trombone, tuba, sax, and clarinet adding to the quaint and intimate nature of proceedings.
The backings of acoustic guitars, keys and strings bring to mind French duo Air (von Poehl's friends), and there's even a touch of Beatles about the arrangements and dampened drum sound.
Von Poehl plays his strongest hand in a three-song bracket midway through the set.
Global Conspiracy is the most up-tempo of the trio, its pulsing bass line and shimmering guitar adding some much-needed energy, while Scorpion Grass builds nicely to a horn-heavy climax.
But it's The Story Of The Impossible that brings the best out in the artist, pulling together good lyrics and good singing in a sympathetic arrangement.
Sadly, the album fails to build on this promise as von Poehl drifts out on numbers that are less song-based and more expansive instrumentally.
The end result is a sense of the artist having dropped the ball. - Jeff Harford
