Recently in Alt/Indie/Punk Category

(Pictured: Deerhunter)

Chicago-based Kranky Records has been tearing both electronic and rock music a new one since 1993. From the droning post-rock of the label's first signing Labradford, to the crackling landscapes of Tim Hecker, and the now-defunct lo-fi pop act Deerhunter, the label has chucked the envelope clear out the window into a nebulous cloud of beautifully musical goo.

For neophytes and fans alike, here's a free Kranky sampler of recent releases to get your get your feet--and ears--wet, including tracks from Atlas Sound, Pan American, Windy and Carl and more. Soon you too, ladies and gentlemen, will be floating in space.

Blister Pop is the name of an album from the Embarrassment, this wonderful little band that has become something of a cult legend over the last two decades. The Kansas-based group crafted a shambolic -- and really quite nervy -- brand of underground awesomeness that fell in the cracks between post-punk, hardcore, power pop and Attractions-style pub rock. Nowadays, the Embarrassment would be considered indie rock or quite possibly pop-punk, but back in the 1980s there wasn't a quality name for what they were doing.

The likely pick for my favorite album of 2009 is looking to be the self-titled debut from the xx, a co-ed London quartet of 20-year-olds whose self-produced album is a masterpiece of sensuality and restraint. Even I'm surprised at my enthusiasm for the record: it doesn't necessarily reach out and grab you on first listen, favoring atmospheres over hooks and suggestion over immediacy. Still, I have a hard time listening to it only once in a given sitting (one of the pleasures of a 39-minute album).

One of the things I like about the record is how it distills so many influences into such a simple, unassuming form: there's a vintage rock 'n' roll patina borrowed from Sun Studios-era Elvis and, less authentically vintage, Chris Isaak's "Wicked Games" (which serves as the barely disguised foundation for the xx's "Infinity"). The welling bass is reminiscent of dubstep and UK garage, and the sullen ambiance recalls post-punk and early goth; the song structures suggest the molasses Americana of Galaxie 500 and their protégés, like Low, Yo La Tengo and Mazzy Star.

The more you listen, the more references you can spot, floating like drops of oil on the surface of the xx's inky, glistening infusion. Since I can't just keep listening to their album on a constant loop (can I?), I put together a playlist that pulls together a number of possible xx influences—as well as a few contemporaries who achieve a similarly dark, viscous bliss in their music—including all the above plus Slowdive, Hugo Largo, David Bowie, Massive Attack, David Sylvian, Cocteau Twins, Seefeel, Brian Eno and many, many more. Listen to a sampling below, and check out the whole playlist here at Rhapsody's Playlist Central.

New albums from Alice in Chains and Pearl Jam have me daydreaming about the days when grunge stormed America and wrapped just about every high school between Seattle and Syracuse in red-and-black checked flannel. Those were heady days for me and my alternative pals Jay, Kerry, Jared and Ted. In the summer before senior year, we’d sit around Ted’s house (his parents were never home) and impatiently wait for MTV to play the “Alive” video or maybe even Temple of the Dog's "Hunger Strike." Feeling intensely nostalgic, I’ve been spinning the popular classics of grunge over the last week or so. Some of these sound really great, others kind of dated and a few haven’t changed at all. I figure I'd share my discoveries … in the form of a stock report.

The fall release schedule has kicked in, in earnest, and the electronic-music world is humming like an overheated Theremin. From Basement Jaxx' cyborg pop to the nether reaches of the underground, here's a selection of recent records that don't require a PhD in electronic subgenres to appreciate.

With the release of Paramore's new album, Twilight's Kristen Stewart rocking her best Joan Jett for an upcoming bio-pic and Yeah Yeah Yeahs' Karen O leading an all-star cast of indie rockers on the Where the Wild Things Are soundtrack, it's really not a bad time to be a chick in a rock band. But of course, all chicks fronting rock bands face the age-old question at some point: To go solo or not to go solo? It's a question Paramore's Hayley Williams had to quash when rumors swirled this summer over a possible solo move when she contributed a track to the Jennifer's Body soundtrack. She's stayed adamant that Paramore is going nowhere, but this got us thinking -- as tempting as it is to reach for the brass ring, is going solo always a good idea? We lined up a few examples Ms. Williams might want to consider for future reference. (And please to be remembering: if you dig Paramore, solo projects, Wild Things, or all of the above, then get on the jet with a Rhapsody subscription -- try it for free right here, right now.) 

The era of the celebrity DJ is on the wane. These days, the real big-tent tastemakers are music supervisors: the behind-the-scenes types with the knack for administering just the right dose of Snow Patrol at the tear-jerking climax of a Grey's Anatomy episode. And no one does that better than Alex Patsavas, whose keen ears and bursting Rolodex have put their sonic stamp on Grey's Anatomy, The O.C., Gossip Girl, and a little yarn about vampires called Twilight, whose soundtrack went on to sell 2.2 million copies.

The H1N1 Influenza virus -- popularly known, to the chagrin of the Other White Meat industry, as "swine flu" -- keeps spreading. And with some estimates claiming that it could affect as many as two to three billion people, it's only natural that celebrities will be stricken, along with the rest of us schlubs. (I'm not a doctor, but I play one on this blog.) From the cases reported so far, it looks like swine flu is not immune to irony. CNN's chief medical correspondent Dr. Sanjay Gupta got it. Epidemiologist and Huffington Post medical blogger Larry Brilliant, M.D. got it -- just days after agreeing to write an article on the disease, at that. (In addition to all its other evil powers, swine flu also apparently rifles through your email. Maybe they should call it crazy ex-girlfriend flu?) And now, it turns out, Marilyn Manson has gotten it too.

From left: Mike Mogis, M. Ward, Jim James, Conor Oberst

The concept of the supergroup is older than fishing -- literally! Jesus and his Disciples were certainly a supergroup, and we're pretty sure Jesus invented fishing. Yes, bands of preternaturally talented brothers (and sisters) have been joining forces for millennia. With this week's debut from Monsters of Folk -- a supergroup comprised of Mike Mogis, M. Ward, My Morning Jacket's Jim James and Bright Eyes' Conor Oberst -- we thought we'd reflect upon some of our favorite supergroups of years past. Was the whole greater than the sum of the parts? Read on to find out, and don't forget: if you dig supergroups, regular groups or anything in between, Rhapsody has you covered. Take a free spin to see what unlimited, unfettered music access tastes like (surprisingly unlike chicken, we think you'll be pleased to discover).

You have to give DFA credit for not resting on their laurels. The label's a figurehead of this decade's indie-dance scene, with an almost unnervingly astute sense for the nuances of 21st-century cool. And yet, aside from certain hallmarks of the DFA style -- ropy bass lines, disaffected vocals, judicious use of cowbell -- they have yet to settle into a pattern. (Black Meteoric Star's psychedelic, home-soldered acid house isn't exactly par for the indie course.)

Their habit of reaching outside their own scene when commissioning remixes is equally commendable. In addition to marquis names like Soulwax and Franz Ferdinand, DFA also tap artists -- like Carl Craig, Baby Ford and Luomo -- who resonate with house and techno die-hards, but have little foothold in American indie circles. It's not just a question of credibility; the stream of new input keeps DFA's mutable sound continually refreshed.

A stellar new collection of remixes of LCD Soundsystem's 45:33, James Murphy's Nike-sponsored album from 2006, is a case in point. Theo Parrish, Prins Thomas, Runaway, Trus'Me, Prince Language, Padded Cell, Pilooski and Riley Reinhold all take the ball and run as far as they can, touching down everywhere from Detroit downbeat to Norwegian disco. Read on for a rundown of the parties involved, with recommendations for further listening from each.

 

I’m no Perez Hilton, or even a young Joan Rivers for that matter, but I think I’ve spotted a pop trend -- albeit a minor one. It dawned on me when I recently stumbled across the video for Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat's “Lucky.” (Nine months behind schedule, I know.) It was the same day I read about Break Up, the new album from Pete Yorn and Scarlett Johansson. I'm talking about this whole he/she retro-pop duo thingy. I’m calling it a trend because I can name four additional examples. There’s She & Him (M. Ward and Zooey Deschanel); Wilco and Feist; Mark Lanegan and Isobel Campbell; and Matthew Sweet and Susanna Hoffs. Without sounding too reductive, all these acts are variations on a theme: take a little Lee and Nancy and some Serge and Brigitte and filter them through a modern alt-pop sensibility (with a dash of Americana thrown in for good measure, of course).

El Guincho (photo: Oliver Faig)

This week's column has no explicit theme, but there might be an implicit one: all five of these albums explore what happens when you combine traditional acoustic and electric instruments with electronic processing and production. Three of them make heavy use of vocals. Four are new, another is a decade old, and one of them sounds way older -- in a good way.

El Guincho, "Antillas" remixes: EP1 and EP2

El Guincho's music is so full of energy and ideas, it's often hard to believe that it's the work of a single artist: listening to his 2008 debut, Alegranza, feels like standing on a hilltop equidistant from three or four different stages at a world music fest, with soca, Afropop, tropicalia and psychedelic rock swirling in the air and shifting with the winds. Now the Spanish musician has reissued "Antillas," one of the album's standout tracks, to a diverse crew of remixers who take his ideas even farther afield. Most of them stay true to the sunny-day spirit of the original, homing in on Highlife-inspired guitars and delirious, Animal Collective-styled chants. Spank Rock's XXXchange comes up with a dazzling slab of Technicolor exuberance in the spirit of DFA or Carl Craig. Norway's Prins Thomas, a master of hypnotic disco, seems to have come across a few of the helium-fueled balloons that once floated above the floor of David Mancuso's Loft; full of bluegrass guitar and manic hand claps, it's as unstoppable as a five-year-old's birthday party. Cee, of Germany's dub outfit Al-Haca, takes the opposite approach, layering atonal voices over quavering bass and stripped-down percussion halfway between dubstep and the bleakest techno: it's "Antillas" all right, but as heard from the other end of a black hole.

 

Owl City (photo: Pamela Littky)

While Gawker reports that Michael Cera is losing his cool, there arrives a new torchbearer for gangly teenaged sincerity. Minnesota's Adam Young launched his electronic-pop project, Owl City, while passing the time in his parents' basement; his MySpace page lists "God," "optimism," "foreign accents" and "G-rated movies" as influences. Taking cues from the Postal Service's fusion of skittery digital rhythms and unabashedly emo melodies, Owl City's new album, Ocean Eyes, channels the bright-eyed rush of the teenage sublime into the sweetest -- well, bittersweetest -- sound possible. With the album casting its rosy glow over the electronic and rock charts, the daydreaming insomniac found the time to share with us an exclusive playlist: Owl City's Pajama Party Songs, complete with his own track-by-track commentary. With a surprisingly ambitious selection running from Hella through Boards of Canada and the experimental computer musician Alva Noto -- and, uh, Shaquille O'Neal -- even die-hard cynics will find it hard not to open up to Mr. Young-at-Heart.

Hella, "Welcome to the Jungle Baby, Your Gonna Live!"
"This song makes me wanna throw a huge pizza party with the Chicago Bulls."
Alva Noto, "jr: for katsushika hokusai"
"I wake up every morning and brush my teeth to this song. My pearly whites are incredibly clean."
Boards of Canada, "Dayvan Cowboy"
"Of dusk and dust and dreams."
Shaquille O'Neal, "My Dear"
"Best song in the history of recorded music. Ever."
Pelican, "Last Day of Winter"
"Indoor swimming music."
The Field, "I Have the Moon, You Have the Internet"
"Brilliant minimalist house."
Taylor Swift, "Love Story"
"Sigh."
Botch, "To Our Friends in the Great White North"
"Go-cart music."
Amon Tobin, "Get Your Snack On"
"This song makes me wanna hang out with my mailman."
Hammock, "When the Sky Pours Down Like a Fountain"
"Snuggle music."
 

Sally Shapiro

Summer's all but officially over, and boy does it feel like it. These three albums may be grounded in libidinal sounds like disco and punk, but there's nevertheless something coolly distant, even alienating about them. (That's part of their charm.) They might make for an entirely unscientific sampling of the current indie dance landscape, but from their heightened affect to their stylistic feints, I think all three speak to a creeping sense of anxiety in the pop underground, both explicit and unconscious.

Sally Shapiro, My Guilty Pleasure

If the term "ice princess" wasn't invented for Sally Shapiro, it's entirely possible she was invented for it. (And she is, let's not forget, an invention: Sally Shapiro is only the nom de microfon of a Swedish shrinking violet whose real name, she demurs, is "something else.") Even singing songs like "Love in July," she sounds about as summery as a steel-blue shock of glacier: her breathy, oddly translucent voice rises up from the mix like the vapors from a frostbitten kiss. Of course, much of the credit for My Guilty Pleasure's deep-freeze aesthetic goes to producer Johan Agebjörn, whose Italo-disco-inspired arpeggios feel as sharply limned as the edges of a snowflake. All the gleaming surfaces can get a bit dizzying after a while -- Royksopp's Junior, a similar attempt at cryogenic disco, sounds positively tropical in comparison -- but there's a thawing respite in the trance-tossed "Dying in Africa," which summons visions of the Field's disappearing horizons.

YACHT, See Mystery Lights

YACHT's full-length DFA debut sounds almost like the work of a different band than the one responsible for I Believe in You. Your Magic Is Real. On the Portland, Ore., band's new album Psychic City, the skittery electronic touches of earlier albums cede the center ground to more muscular guitar-drums-and-bass arrangements. Instead of sketching around the outlines of pop, Jona Bechtolt and Claire L. Evans now home in on the shape of their songs in bold strokes. YACHT aren't shy about their magpie tendencies: "Pyschic City" and "It's Boring" take cues from the Pixies and Pylon, while more futuristic joints like "I'm in Love with a Ripper" open their arms wide to encompass '80s synth-pop and '00s R&B, via ZTT-inspired sampling and delirious flights of Auto-Tune. (There's even a trace of the Durutti Column in the limpid guitars of the opening "Ring the Bell.") It's far more engaging than fellow Portlanders Glass Candy, whose No Wave disco wants for YACHT's irreverent, inquisitive spirit. From the low-slung bass to Evans' slouchy delivery, the album's a no-brainer fit for DFA, currently running this corner of the indie dance scene. But despite the obligatory grounding in the punkier side of disco, it still sounds unlike anything else on the label.

Health, Get Color

Health's machinic rhythms and queasy oscillators, laced with digital tics and freaky effects, draw an imaginary line from Sonic Youth's swollen amplifiers to the nether space of the motherboard. Like Liars, Animal Collective and Battles, the L.A. band pulls at rock's ragged edges in both style and sonics. The new album, Get Color, is both heavier and trickier than their debut: songs like "Death+" sound like a cross between Helmet and Aphex Twin -- part death march, part angels' chorus. The band's tendency to lock into a trance-inducing churn sometimes leaves you wishing for more in the way of songwriting; maybe that last, as-yet-untaken leap is what gives the music such a palpable sense of struggle -- witness the fiery permutations of "We Are Water," where the band wrestles with the ghosts of prog rock, hardcore and techno; the song's imbued with a sense of almost incendiary frustration as it twists and turns.

Ah, 1999, we hardly knew ye: we were so caught up in preparing for the looming millennial ball drop that we dropped the ball on savoring the waning days of a thousand-year stretch that began with the founding of Norway and ended, as usual, with Dick Clark holding court in Times Square, as I'm pretty sure he'd done every year since around the time of the Norman Conquest. (The big difference at 1999's New Year's Eve parties was that people seemed to be listening to a lot more Prince, for whatever reason.)

Blame the Y2K bug for our inattention. But at least we danced. Oh, how we danced. Basement Jaxx, Underworld, the Chemical Brothers, Moby and other relics of the rave era were enjoying proper pop credibility. Dr. Dre was "Still D.R.E.," while Britney was, well, still Britney, but without the "b*tch." Le Tigre proved that riot grrrls were down with the disco. And the underground was teeming with activity, from U.K. garage to minimal techno. Relive it all with our five-hour playlist of the best dance tracks that 1999 had to offer. Don't you deserve a break from the "oughts"? Thought so. Check a sampling below, and get the whole thing here at Playlist Central.