LCD Soundsystem’s James Murphy is a canny studio Zelig who refracts multifold styles through his rarefied sensibilities. Sound of Silver surpasses LCD’s patchy 2005 debut album, achieving a scintillating balance between high-NRG rhythmic verve and appealing melodies. Disregarding maudlin piano ballad “New York I Love You,” LCD loads their second LP with perpetual-motion machine grooves (often glazed with odd electronic effects and accentuated by cowbells). “Get Innocuous” sets the tone, merging the clipped synth wiggle from Kraftwerk’s “The Robots” with Murphy’s monkish intonations. Silver abounds with funky dance-rock anthems that’ll please both bedroom trainspotters and clubbers seeking uplifting bangers.
L. Pierre Dip
Opening like a seaside Fellini film, Dip starts with the sounds of gulls, waves, and a distant jazz band playing a mournful dirge. Former Arab Strap member Aidan Moffat takes us on a thematic journey on his third album as L. Pierre, and this one’s for the folkies. Acoustic guitars mingle with cello, double bass, and trumpet in a hazy ramble that glows like a sunset. The result is a set of aqueous poems that play out like Nick Drake instrumentals mixed by Biosphere. Dive in.
King Sunny Ade Gems From the Classic Years
Despite the massive size of Nigerian Juju inventor King Sunny Ade’s back catalog, one never tires of hearing this guitarist’s unique, sometimes quizzical melodies. With a unique voice that’s tough to forget, Ade was primed to take over the international stardom Bob Marley left behind–only he never sang in English, much to the chagrin of Island Records. Now we rely on archeological excavations like this brilliant six-track, 70-minute compilation of unearthed medleys from 1967 to ’74. One listen to his Hawaiian slide guitar-influenced take on African palm wine music and you too will be hooked.
Cardopusher “El Pote Que Mece La Cuna”
Breakcore is alive! Venezuela’s Cardopusher doesn’t rely on cliché spooky samples or excessively scattered, distorted drums. Instead, homeboy melds Latin rhythms, trance synths (and, yes, they sound rad), dubstep-influenced bass, and fierce breakdowns. For the I Need Someone I Can Imitate EP, Cardo brings along Breakcore vets Sickboy and Retrigger. Chaos awaits.
Gang Gang Dance Retina Riddim
These NYC multimedia subversives have just issued their strangest work yet-which is saying several mouthfuls, judging from past Gang Gang Dance efforts. Retina Riddim consists of a 24-minute CD and a 33-minute DVD. The former is amorphous psychedelic dub that sounds like Black Dice riotously improvising in Black Ark Studios. You don’t exactly know what’s happening for the disc’s duration, but you realize something of unearthly beauty has pierced your headspace, the frequently morphing rhythms and grotesque textures rendering reality an absurd abstraction. All in a night’s work for GGD, as the DVD proves-the first two minutes anyway; my copy has a glitch that makes it rewind at that point. But that glimpse was definitely dazzling.
Money Mark Brand New by Tomorrow
Money Mark, the groove-thick keyboardist, dials back the funk in favor of some earnest confessions about love, loss, and releasing his first disc on Jack Johnson’s label. Okay, that last one was a jab, but the two truly seem to have discovered a laid-back, lo-fi pop nexus together, and while it may not exactly intrigue Mark’s Keyboard Repair loyalists, Brand New by Tomorrow‘s heartbreak pop sticks to your ribcage. “Pick Up the Pieces,” “Pretend to Sleep,” and “Color of Your Blues” ache from front to back.
Mos Def Tru3 Magic
Somewhere between Black on Both Sides and The New Danger lies magic-Tru3 Magic. The Mighty Mos returns with a lyrical depth rare in modern street slangers, reassuming his role of heroic hip-hop jester. Only nothing’s funny on the socially poignant “Dollar Day (Surprise Surprise),” his tribute opus to New Orleans. Mos keeps it interesting by dropping the inspirational soul throwback “There Is a Way,” and plenty of analog fuzz on “Sun, Moon, Stars,” yet “Undeniable” is the true club killer, with bass turned high and Mos’ pure poetic swagger.
Mira Calix Eyes Set Against the Sun
Chantal Passamonte’s “Nunu” was an edit of a commission from Geneva’s Museum d’Histoire Naturelle to create music from the sounds of insects; on Skimskitta, her second album as Mira Calix, she sampled stones from North American national parks for their sonic qualities. Eyes Set Against the Sun sustains this interest in natural phenomena, drawing on recordings of snow melting, “the weather,” birdsong, and the sound of decaying wood (via an uncared-for bamboo xylophone that was crumbling as it was played). Intriguingly, though these field recordings are treated and processed, they remain at least partially recognizable, becoming quite specific emotional triggers in an album that is by turns euphoric and gut-wrenchingly somber. On opener “Because to Why,” Passamonte uses a children’s choir alongside her own nursery rhyme-like enunciation to disorient listeners; the track is one of several that stands at a midpoint between charming and creepy.
Gudrun Gut I Put a Record On
Gudrun Gut has come a long way since the rage and industrial clang of Einstürzende Neubauten. The old art terrorism is gone-now the veteran Berlin post-punk artist/Ocean Club DJ lures listeners into her rabbit hole with her debut solo LP. They fall into a netherworld where the ghosts of Weimar cabaret and arcane polka drift into digital-dub space. Fragments of accordion melodies and oomph-pah rhythms brilliantly snake into “Move Me,” and “Girlboogie 6” is juke-joint rockabilly that may end up in a David Lynch fever dream someday. The centerpiece, the dubby “Sweet,” sleeps on a crowded subway seat, but dreams of floating on a moonless sea. The only catch is that Gut limits her vocals to a chanteuse whisper and risks repeating a cliché that sunk trip-hop a decade ago. Otherwise, I Put a Record On still steps over the timid minimalism that shackles much German techno.
Original Hamster Presents Trendsetters and the Followers
Unfortunately, much of Chilean producer Vicente Sanfuentes’ latest disc is more “follower” than “trendsetter.” The bouncy, elastic bassline-filled electro likely wouldn’t clear a dancefloor, but it wouldn’t necessarily fill one, either. Daft Punk particularly comes through as an influence here, down to the inflections of funk and house layered with vocoders. And the outright cover on the album, a beep-filled version of “Burning Down the House” (with more filtered vocals), doesn’t add to The Talking Heads’ original.
