Liars: The Sound & The Fury

Two states of creative consciousness exist: one is a land free from the anxious oppression of doubt and fear; the other is a realm plagued by the cloudy, lingering ghosts of self doubt and uncertainty, and the crippling sensation of hesitation. When both realms collide, it creates a sonic din akin to eight million hearts pulsing, lightning repeatedly crashing into a storming ocean, and the friction of pulsating percussion. That sound is Liars.

Their new album, Drum’s Not Dead (Mute), finds the unconventional three-piece breaking out of the pigeonhole of Williamsburg art-rock royalty. Since the release of their 2003 debut, They Threw Us All in a Trench and Stuck a Monument on Top, the band had already pared down from four people to three; their present line-up is singer Angus Andrew, multi-instrumentalist Julian Gross, and guitarist/drummer Aaron Hemphill. And whereas their last release, 2004’s They Were Wrong, So We Drowned, was a meditation on magic, written in the forests of New Jersey, Drum’s Not Dead soundtracks Liars’ recent relocation to Berlin, a move that has precipitated a redefinition of their sound while blasting all that’s lifelessly predictable, one track at a time.

Drum’s Not Dead tells the tale of two fictional characters, Drum and Mount Heart Attack. Drum represents the impulsive, creatively assertive side; Mount Heart Attack, Drum’s mortal enemy, is a distressing obstacle that stands in the way of progress. It’s a meditation on starting over and dealing with loss, with more structured, driving songs than on previous efforts. “The last album was really strong on the conceptual side,” explains Andrew in the midst of an extensive European tour. “On this one, we didn’t talk about it that much. It had no framework. We just had time to make music on our own and explore more of the personal side, rather than subject matter we agreed on beforehand.”

Should this soundtrack of penetrating, head-stomping drum patterns; hellfire drones; and sinister, cult-like chanting not be enough stimulation for you, Drum’s Not Dead also contains a DVD with “three visual versions of the album,” videos that represent each member’s take on every track. “As artists, we should be making albums that are more worthwhile to buy,” says Andrew. “In this day and age, it requires more than just 12 songs and a slip of paper. I think we need to step up to the plate a bit more.”

Mirroring the band’s insistence on challenging their listeners and themselves creatively, Andrew explained that the move to Berlin became a tool for crafting an album rich with rhythmic discomfort and internal strife. “This record has a lot to do with the displacement, isolation, and alienation that you get from moving to a foreign place,” recalls the articulate frontman, who grew up in Australia. “After living in America for 10 years, I started to freak out and feel like I needed to move somewhere else. There’s a different political and social climate [in Germany], especially in Berlin. They’re particularly adamant about not being fascists. It’s a nice change from the United States.”

According to Andrew, the album also represents a release of last year’s tension between bandmates. “There was a point where Aaron, our guitarist and drummer, was contemplating leaving the band somewhere in the middle of 2005 to go back to school,” he recalls. “It was a tough period for both of us in terms of figuring out where we were going to go and what we were going to do. Eventually he changed his mind and got back on board and we got the album together.”

Through all of the anarchic moves and dislocating struggles that have permeated Liars’ past, they’ve let life’s tumult transform them into one of the most profoundly genre-bending bands to date. “I think we’re generally considered a New York band, which is fine,” says Andrew. “I just think that the particular type of sound that we were categorized with early on was a little small. We’ve had the chance since then to show that we have other things to offer, you know?”

Yes, we know.

Shawn Lee‘s Ping Pong Orchestra Strings & Things

Multi-instrumentalist and singer Shawn Lee-whose varied musical escapades have found him working alongside such disparate artists as The Spice Girls, Martina McBride, and Psapp-curates his third installment of Ubiquity‘s Studio Sessions series, in which he and his Ping Pong Orchestra bob and weave through tracks from 1960s and ‘70s library records (dusty wax meant to soundtrack the dingy flicks of yesteryear). Lee deftly tugs the cinematic flair out of the album‘s 15 cuts, breathing life into sitar-driven grooves, sneaky marimba breaks, chase-sequence drum shuffles, and ominous orchestral swells until you can almost see the notes.

Man Man Six Demon Bag

Philly collective Man Man‘s roguishly primitive music can sometimes find itself overshadowed by the outfit‘s junkie-jug-band stage presence. But not acknowledging Six Demon Bag‘s sonic brilliance would be almost criminal. Frontman Honus Honus-cartoonishly curtseying atop a bone heap of indie romp and thrift-shop stomp-possesses a stunning savant‘s vision. Sure to pull Man Man‘s songs out of the formidable shadow of their bat-shit-crazy live show, the 13 songs that cling to this smokehouse of a record are beautifully crude, finger-painted traces of Captain Beefheart, Tom Waits, and other kitchen-sink greats.

The Concretes In Colour

For their second album, the eight-piece Swedish girl band takes their pop sensibilities close to the realm of Americana, forcing the two worlds to meet in some territory in between. Blame it on the songwriting, the seeming disorganization of the tracklisting, or the mere concept of trying to combine uplifting pop with one of the most depressing genres out there; whatever the reason, the production capabilities are present here, but the album doesn‘t quite reach its full potential.

Francisco Music Business

Patience is a virtue, and an important one to have when listening to the debut solo album from Rome native Francisco. Though the first half of the disc is deceptively homogenous, rarely straying from the basic house format, a brief interlude called “Filmissimo” clears the mind and ushers in the second half of the album where Francisco shakes the 4/4 combination around a bit, revs up the synths, and adds a few well-timed vocals to finish things off. The end result is a fine patchwork of Chicago house and Italo-disco worth giving a listen.

The Psychic Paramount Live 2002 The Franco-Italian Tour

“Power trio” falls way short in describing the nuclear energy generated by the Psychic Paramount. Featuring two former members of phenomenal noise rockers Laddio Bolocko (guitarist Drew St. Ivany and bassist Ben Armstrong), the Psychic Paramount plays frightfully intense instrumental music of the spheres-mainly the sun. On this CD, it sounds as if the players are going to combust as they rage with finesse on these European stages. Like Glenn Branca and The Boredoms, PP are masters of blazing ascension, of rock as a superhuman centrifuge that makes its listeners feel both puny and omnipotent. This is like a money shot that lasts 45 minutes.

Liars Drum‘s Not Dead

On their third album, Liars combines an eerie, otherworldly aura with a scathingly visceral attack as they simultaneously craft haunting, caressing melodies and calming, diaphanous atmospheres. Sure, Liars can Sturm und Drang with the best klangmeisters around, but they also realize the importance of beauty (albeit one embossed with bruises of myriad psychedelic hues). Drum‘s Not Dead unsurprisingly stresses robust tom-tom thumps, which emphatically punctuate the trio‘s bizarrely distorted guitar (or is it a flanged didgeridoo?) and singer Angus Andrew‘s falsettos and My Bloody Valentine-like coos (a few tracks recall MBV‘s Isn‘t Anything). Overall, this is Liars‘ most emotionally captivating and menacingly tuneful work. They‘re improving with (r)age.

Scanalyzer On The One And The Zero

On the One and the Zero is a chunky bit of synth work with thrashalong drums from a group that clearly has been immersed in German and Eastern European hard tekno and breakcore. Scanalyzer focuses intensely on squeezing every last drop out of their gear and plug-ins; this makes for sounds reminiscent of the industrial scene from which the group sprang. Though this record lacks the wicked warm dub of a screaming Scud or Full Watts production, it‘s still solid and worth checking for those who are down for the core.

Muallem Frankie Splits

On his debut full-length, Munich-born David Muallem immediately comes out swinging, making soul, funk, hip-hop, and electro as if he‘d been reared in each department from birth. Right off the bat, the thumping synths and bass of “Are You Ready? (Turn off the Lights),” featuring the hot-tongued vocals of Amazon, drive straight for the dancefloor: “I know you see me in da club/And you wanna get a little rub, doncha?/You wanna dance all over me/And make me hot ‘n‘ sweaty, doncha?” she teases confidently. It‘s just one side of Muallem‘s split personality-he adeptly switches between hip-hop (featuring Beans, Lyrics Born, and Wordsworth), synth-driven pop, and Erykah Badu-styled R&B on tracks like “Some Loving,” a slow, dubbed-out groove featuring Martine Girault. Even though there‘s an overload of ‘80s nostalgia at points, Muallem proves himself to be a fine new player in the game, with all-over-the-board production and a style all his own.

J Dilla Donuts

Before his death, the markedly shy and perennially understated beatmaker (and occasional MC) J Dilla crafted killer drum-and-sample palettes for the best of the best; De La Soul, Common, and Busta have all worked lyrics over his magically sludgy beats. However, the true genius of this beatsmith shone through not on glossed-up radio edits with MCs spitting all over them, but on his own instrumentals, when nary a word-save for the odd Dionne Warwick sample (“Walkinonit”)-was laid overtop. Donuts contains 30-odd loops that rarely exceed two minutes in length (made during a lengthy hospital stay in Los Angeles), and it showcases Dilla’s immense prowess with an MPC, tone arms, and a basement full of dusty grooves. Check the wacked-out Raymond Scott grab of a Bendix ad on “Lightworks” or the high-speed-chase aesthetic of “Workinonit,” and you’ll agree that few MCs’ vocals could top the highs achieved here.

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