A Depressing, Albeit Beautiful, Concept

A few years ago, I happened upon The Antlers’ album, Burst Apart. I’d never heard of them, but I gave the album a go and was haunted by the lovely and melancholy tunes. It haunted me in the best way that music can. And for whatever reason, it took another few years before I finally said to myself, “Why in the world have I not tracked down more of their stuff?” So I did, and their 2009 release of Hospice melted my face upon the first listen.

It was everything I liked about Burst Apart: mellow yet heartfelt, beautiful but haunting, and lyrics that forced you to pay attention to them.

What made this album work even more for me, though, is that it’s best taken as a concept album. As the title suggests, Hospice, the lyrics and stylings surround those on their way out, the loved ones and the ones doing the loving, and those that we love that have already been lost. From their tribute to Sylvia Plath to the simple guitar and vocals of the final track, “Epilogue,” to the sobering tones of “Kettering,” the whole album feels like an exit soundtrack, one telling the story that all of us must undergo: the death of those we love and our own place beside them.

At times, it almost evokes lullabies, like “Bear,” but the lyrics keep us grounded in the emotions of what’s going on in the story of each song, the way we simply give in or rage against that dying light. Always, though, it’s beautiful, especially on the slow build tracks like “Atrophy” and “Wake.”

It might not be for everyone, as it is extremely somber and the lead singer’s, Peter Silberman’s, voice could be an acquired taste. But for those that feel the heart within his higher pitched tones and don’t mind a little rumination about death, you won’t do much better than Hospice.

This is Happening... Even if You Didn't Know It

There are so many bands and artists that I’ve been incredibly late to the party for. Beyond fashionably and well into the realm where everyone is already passed out, kicked out, or having gone home to enjoy themselves long ago, and the host of the party takes one look at me and is like, “Why weren’t you here ages ago?”

But one of the best parts of this day and age is that the party never truly ends. Even after a band has broken up or gone on to different things or--on the sad occasions--has passed on, there is a fandom out there still making like Wayne and Garth and partying on. This is definitely the case with LCD Soundsystem.

For reasons unbeknownst to me (though it was probably my own musical prejudices, caught up in such albums by Portishead, Mellowdrone, and the soundtracks of Clint Mansell), I never really heard them until a few months ago. Their song, “All My Friends,” popped up on an Amazon Prime playlist, and I was instantly enthralled by the extended build, the lack of a true chorus, and the way the song simply went on and on, and I never wanted it to end. Who IS this? I thought. And soon enough, I’d tracked down their album, Sound of Silver, devoured it, and moved on to the rest of their slim discography, ending--accidentally, albeit appropriately--with This is Happening.

This album has infiltrated my soundbar and won’t seem to leave. I’m always trying to explore and take in as much music as possible, but in between the new-new and new-old discoveries, This is Happening is happening at my place.

From the get go, the album is nothing short of perfection. “Dance Yrself Clean” drops a simple beat and transforms into a song that builds and fluctuates between loud and quiet; it ultimately sets the tone for the album--like the best first tracks should. Afterwards comes one of the most upbeat, rockish--and shortest--tracks, “Drunk Girls,” that not only demands movement from you, but it also is so tongue-and-cheek-wonderful lyrically that you’ll be cheering right along.

The rest spins out LCD’s signature mix of dance and funk and rock goodness. “One Touch” is stuck in my head more often than a song should be and is most excellent to let that bouncing bass hit your eardrums via some killer earbuds. “I Can Change” is another notable, capturing the truths of any relationship, while the track that follows, “You Wanted a Hit” is so self-reflexive of their career that you can’t help but laugh while shaking your booty. And yes, such shakes of booties happens. (I can’t dance, but so help me, I’m bobbing and weaving while grooving out to this album--and it does make doing the dishes both more fun and more complicated.) All of this tops off with such a bubbly and catchy song, “Home,” that you can’t help but wonder if the band members simply looked upon this album and said, “Welp… there’s no way we can top this. I guess we better disband.”

Hopefully, you made it on time to this LCD party, enjoyed the show, and returned home, caring for these wonderful tunes since their initial release. However, if you were an unlucky person like me and didn’t even see the party from the street or even hear about its epicness the day after, do yourself a favor and check them out. They might not be a band that instantly clicks for you, but if you give them a few spins--especially this album--you won’t mind picking your way over the Phils, the ones already partied out, to enjoy what’s left of this shebang.

It's Different... But There's Something Kinda Fantastic About That

The first Wes Anderson film I ever saw was The Royal Tenenbaums, and I was instantly smitten. I loved the humor. I loved the characters. I loved the acting. And even more, I loved the visual style.

From that first love, which included three visits to the surrounding theatres to re-watch Gene Hackman steal the show, I went through the rest of Anderson's short filmography. Since then, I've seen each new film and have anticipated the release of the next. With each one, I've continued to be astounded by Anderson's specific style, tone, and aesthetics--which I think many others are in love with as well. But I haven't heard many people talk about the soundtracks.

Because I'm such a visual person, the cinematography and set / costume designs always took the forefront, but it was somewhere during an umpteenth viewing of RT that I realized how perfect--even if a bit off--his musical selections were. It clicked for me when Royal and Margo are sitting in the ice cream parlor, the Charlie Brown Christmas song playing in the background. It seemed so bizarre but so incredibly right. The rest of the music opened up, then, and I realized that Anderson had as impeccable of music selections as any Tarantino film. Apparently, I'm not the only one to discover this, as American Laundromat Records put out a compilation called I Saved Latin!: A Tribute to Wes Anderson.

I stumbled across this compilation when researching the band Telekinesis (one of my personal favs), who did a cover for "This Time Tomorrow." The album seemed like such a wonderful idea, and I can't believe it took me so long to find out about such things--since there are volumes of these things dedicated to Tarantino. But much as I love the original versions of the songs, as Anderson uses in the films, I like that this compilation is all covers by up and coming bands.

For the most part, the tracks are solid. If you like the originals, you'll like the covers. There are some that definitely take a departure--like Tomten's "30 Century Man" and Freelance Whales' "Let Her Dance," which are both highlights of the collection. But all in all, it stays true to its roots while creating something uniquely itself.

To me, the highlights are the aforementioned Telekinesis cover, PHOX's "The Way I Feel Inside," The Ghost In You's "Oh Yoko," and Solvents' "Nothing in This World Can Stop Me Worrin' 'Bout That Girl."

Honestly, it's an all around great collection for a Wes Anderson fan, and with the limited vinyl pressing, the sooner you snatch one up--if vinyl is your thing--the better.