Woods, for me, has always been a go-to band, no matter the mood. They are astoundingly good.
I’ve been acquainted with Future Islands for a little while now; we met through a mutual friend a little over a year ago and have spoke with each other on various occasions in passing.
It took the soaring guitar of Alex Bleeker and the Freaks and their self-titled album to give me the balls (or the naiveté) to try to describe the kind of music that this label puts out.
Toro Y Moi, meaning “Bull and Me” in Spanish and French, respectively, is what cassettecouture.com describes as “chill-wave.”
Musically, Beach House lounges in the world of comfortable correspondence: the tones of clasped hands, open mouths and bending bodies.
The emotional Holocaust of a break-up album like Former Ghost’s “Fleurs,” it’s probably best to keep yourself a few feet away from total identification with the despair on display.
Over the past couple of years, I have made countless irrelevant analogies, pretentious statements, contentious contradictions and flat out dick-moves. Not only that, but I’ve spent some years as a music director, columnist, on-air personality, public speaker and all-around attention whore.
There is nothing inaccessible about Yacht’s new album entitled “See Mystery Lights.” It’s the kind of album I could show anybody and anybody would like it. In fact, I bet it’s on mtvU right now.
A few months ago, I drove down Highway 1 through Big Sur in the early afternoon. The light blue sky unfolded out into the ocean as I hugged the turns in my Jetta blasting Jens Lekman’s dreamy “Night Falls Over Kortedala” through the open sunroof.
Through their music, I interpreted a philosophy which I recognized as my own: The best way to express self-loathing is to dress it up in fuzzy animal ears and hope everyone will think it’s really cute.