Stuff Pve Been Listening To Luke Simcoe, OP Columnist Downloaded: Listened To: The Shins — Wineing the Night Away Oxford Collapse — Remember the Night Parties Bloc Party —.A Weekend in the City (unmastered) Chin Up Chin Up - This Harness Cant Ride Anything Secret Mommy - P/ays Menomena ~ Friend ¢> Foe Blonde Redhead - Misery Is a Butterfly The Shins — Wincing the Night Away This leaked months ago, and since then there’s been a lot of talk about The Shins changing directions, “experimenting,” and moving forward. There’s some truth in those statements, but at its core, Wincing the Night Away is a Shins record. Songs like “Australia” and “Phantom Limb,” the lead single, are vintage James Mercer, replete with his unmistakable voice, and the jangly, forward-driven guitar-pop that you’ve come to expect from the Portland via Albuquerque quartet. Granted, the album drags more than Chufes too Narrow (at 11 tracks and 42 minutes, Wincing is by far the longest record the band has put out) as a result of the sometimes dense production, and Mercer does do a passable Morrisey impression on “Sea Legs,’ crooning about how its “your choice to be loved,” but what many people have missed is how closely some of the album’s moments resemble Oh, Inverted World. Mercer exhaustively explored the two- and-a-half minute pop song on the band’s first two records, so I think a slightly more “difficult” record was to be expected. My only complaint is that Mercer’s voice is no longer tinged with that same intimate awkwardness and uncertainty; it’s as if he’s finally become self-confident. But can you blame him? Bloc Party — A Weekend in the City After drummer Matt Tong suffered a collapsed lung, I sent Bloc Party an email suggesting that they title their forthcoming full-length 4 Men, 7 Lungs. Apparently they chose not to take my advice. Anyway, A Weekend in the City sounds just like its title. It’s a brief and raucous ride through Kele Okeroke’s over-emoting mind, set to Bloc Party’s take on electronica. ’m hoping it will grow on me, as I LOVED Sident A/arm, but after a few listens, the album is pret- ty lame. Okeroke’s lyrics have become overly sentimental, and the band’s tendency to overuse drum machines and effects brings the album down. Oh, “Waiting for the 7:18” has a chimey intro that sounds like the beginning of Cypress Hill’s “Rap Superstar.” A few songs, particularly “Uniform,” and “Hunting for Witches,” which sounds like an updated version of “Helicopter,” recall the finer moments of Si/ent Alarm, but on the whole I feel let down. Whereas I was ready for a departure from The Shins, I would have liked Bloc Party to stick to the formula for at least another record. Secret Mommy - Plays - Secret Mommy began as The Epidemic, the electronically tinged solo project of Viegroveriee Andy Dixon (d.b.s., The Red Light Sting, Winning). Andy would fingerpick his guitar, feed the recordings into the computer and slice and dice them into something new. After a name change, Andy ditched his guitar in favour of experimenting with field sampling. For Very Rec, he donned hidden microphones in order to sample sounds from a variety of “recreational” places including squash courts, swimming pools and dance studios. For The Wisdom EP, Andy composed six songs out of sounds recorded during the removal of his wisdom teeth. On Piays, it seems as if Mr. Dixon has come full circle. The album consists entirely of remixed sounds from a few exclusively acoustic sessions at The Hive studios. No amps, no electric instruments. Various guitar, mandolin and violin lines are bent and twisted around wind instru- ment samples and layered over improvised vocal harmonies and the clicks and pops that characterize Andy’s previous efforts. In addition to being a beautiful and utterly unique record, Plays is another in a long line of Andy’s salvos aimed at challenging the definition of meaningful or appropriate sound. Menomena - Friend & Foe ‘On Friend & Foe, Menomena (da da deaaahh, da-da -da) take a quirky look at pop music. Their songs are intricate pieces of guitar, drum and bass laced with lilting piano lines. There’s a lot to like on this album: incredible vocal harmonies and lyrical interplay, little audio loops that can be heard in the back of songs, and lyrics that are downright weird. However, Menomena’s (da da -deha -da) true strength lies in their ability to take songs in delightfully unexpected direc- tions. Relatively formulaic, albeit charismatic, indie-pop songs suddenly descend into fuzzy guitar breakdowns, organ solos, intense basslines and occasional electronic or saxophone interludes. And that’s just the first half of the album! The back nine (more accurately the back six) on this record shed some of the pop sensibility in favour of exploration, and it’s a nice departure after being buttered up by the opening half of the album. Admittedly, I was a little put-off at first, but I have a feeling Friend ¢> Foe is going to be one of those records that really grows on me. Blonde Redhead - Misery Is a Butterfly Blonde Redhead is set to play the Commodore on April 20, so I thought would take a stab at familiarizing myself with this much-lauded New York trio. I’ve heard them compared to Sonic Youth, but after a cursory once-over of Misery Is a Butterfly (kind of a stupid title, eh?), I don’t hear it. Misery reads more like a baroque interpretation of O&K Computer. Dark, emotive lyrics are mumbled (sometimes in key, sometimes not) over repetitive, atmospheric lines of rhythm, minimalist guitar and barely-there synths. The group’s strength is definitely singer Kazu Makino’s eerie voice — she reminds me of a far less irritat- ing Bjork — and the songs where she steps aside to let Amadeo Pace take the lead are tempting to mf over. As a whole, Misery is a challenging and interest- ing album, but its merits don’t save it from the pretentious and potentially dubious nature of its own... ...well...... misery. The Oxford Collapse — Remember the Night refer These guys were Pitchfork darlings for a while, and although I downloaded Remember the Night Parties a while ago, I only secenly found time amongst the maelstrom of miusic that I live in to listen to the record. To me, it’s one of those albums you hope not to review because nothing about it really stands out. Tt’s not worthy of a love-fest, and there’s nothing bad about it to seize on and ridicule in a snappy prose style. They sound a lot like many of their SubPop label-mates (think Band of Horses or Rogue Wave, but more scatterbrained and youthful), but that’s all that really comes to mind when listen to them. I guess that album title is kind of ironic, because although you might have had some fun at all those night parties back in high school, there’s really nothing i clear or distinct to remember about them. Chin Up Chin Up - This Harness Can’t Ride Anything If memory serves me correctly, I actually downloaded and deleted this record some time ago, but due to my stubborn loyalty to Suicide Squeeze records . (Minus the Bear, Hella, Pedro the Lion, and one -time home to Elliot Smith and Modest Mouse), I thought I'd give it another spin. The windy city natives in _ Chin Up Chin Up play that kind of indie-pop-pap that gives Pitchfork a boner, but despite the fact that I’ve been inundated by bands with the same kind of sound, I can’t entirely dismiss the record. They remind me of The National on Prozac. The songs are jangly and singer Jeremy Bolen’s scratchy voice touches on a number of half-formed topics, (including breasts on the beach), but you get the feeling that the songs are still meticulously arranged. However, the band hasn’t learned to save the best for last, an. ea a the first half * the record, beginning with the tidle track/lead single, contains all the best songs.