Start off the new year with a bang … literally! And why not – there’s nothing else to do in these frigid temps. Your best bet is to burrow under a down comforter with something cute and snuggly and not your childhood stuffed animal. Sure, you could hit the gym – that’s one way to combat the doughy advances on your midsection – but the gym can’t make out with you; this methodology is a welcomed alternative for calorie burning.

(Please note: Radio Exile does not take responsibility for any buns that may manifest in any ovens, as a result of promoting this mix).

The sky continuously throwing down snow is Mother Nature’s way of practically begging you to get laid. Stop making her job more difficult. What sounds better: trudging through slushy streets and icy wind blasts en route to the bar (where you’ll have wet feet and a perpetual sniff the entire time), or reenacting spicy Calvin Klein ads to a hot soundtrack after watching a little Family Guy?

The latter. Obviously.

These songs should get your proverbial juices flowing. Mix, match and discard at will – there isn’t any particular order to them. Care has also been taken to include a variety of tempos to please differing, em, aesthetic preferences. Please leave additional tunes in the comments section, for future testing in the Radio Exile labs.

And remember kids, when these beats are a-rockin’, don’t come a-knockin’.

Aqualung – “Strange and Beautiful (I’ll Put a Spell on You)”
Otis Redding – “These Arms of Mine”
The xx – “Crystalised”
Fitz & The Tantrums – “Winds of Change”
The Zutons – “Pressure Point”
John Legend – “Alright”
Gnarls Barkley – “She Knows”
Here We Go Magic – “Only Pieces”
Volcano Choir – “Island, IS”
Phantom Planet – “Raise the Dead”
Peter Bjorn and John – “Objects of My Affection”
The Big Pink – “Velvet”
MGMT – “Electric Feel”
Frou Frou – “Let Go”
Pearl Jam – “Garden”
She Wants Revenge – “Tear You Apart”(Live Acoustic From FNX Studios)
The Subways – “Shake! Shake!”
Better Than Ezra – “Under You”

Peace Sign Courtesy of Carry a Big Sticker
Heart Image Courtesy of Aches on Ventures
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The first time Yo Gabba Gabba’s album finds its way through your speakers, you are more creeped out than if you had encountered a grinning clown in a dark alley. It doesn’t seem right to listen to it without a tot in tow. Never having seen the Nick, Jr. show, the music on the album is fun and catchy enough, but the lyrics are a true test in how quickly the adult mind registers suggestiveness.

From zero to sixty in… yeah.

Take the “Go Crazy Remix.” To a child, this song is very confusing. One line tells them to stand still, while the very next lyric instructs them to go crazy! And yet somehow, having a generation of attention deficit kids is still baffling? Filter this very same song through adult ears and becomes the number one requested remix at Cabana Club. “Nice and easy, nice and slow / It’s nice to be quiet, and listen, you know… but sometimes I have to move around, and be loud, loud, loud! / I’ll have to go crazy, and be loud, loud, loud!” Give a listen to the vocal inflections and the beat and try not to go there. Try it.

Half of the album is stacked with current indie favorites (The Shins, Of Montreal, Weird Science) grooving about the importance brushing your teeth, not always getting what you want, and telling you how it’s in your best interest to wash your hands. These are life lessons that many adults should really revisit. Disgusting humans, buy this album!

It’s not just the indie band interpretations on YGG tunes that create sexual undertones –the songs attributed directly to the cast are just as unsettling. Lyrics like “Just because it’s different, doesn’t mean its scary… here’s a new fruit, come on let’s taste it (let’s taste it, baby!)” It’s also hard to decode the messages that YGG sends to its audience. Getting the “sillies” out may not be the message you want to send to kids – just take one look at the furrowed brow on any given Corporate American. Also, the whole “Try It, You’ll Like It” advice never works on kids, and, quite honestly, is counterproductive to McGruff’s war on drugs. No. Not in a box, not with a fox.

Music Is Awesome has an ever-so-slight School House Rock vibe, but it’s unlikely that it will be accepted into the pantheon of lesson-teaching tunes (only time will truly tell). But for now, the songs that should make your favorite kid’s mixtape are Mark Kozelek’s “Bedtime Lullaby” and The Little Ones’ “Hey, Won’t Somebody Come and Play.” Very cute.

One more thing: “Party in my Tummy” just may give you nightmares. You’ve been warned.

Everyone seems to talk to about Thanksgiving as if it is their favorite holiday. It makes sense: when it all boils down, no one loves gluttony more than an American. We can justify spending money on food (over presents), knowing that we will partake in shoveling these tasty purchases through our personal pie holes. More mashed potatoes, please!

I’m cool with it. Especially when I know that the feed fest I’m attending is forty-five people deep. Forty-five people means a lot of conversations (“Have you put on weight?” “When are you going to pop one out?” and my personal favorite, “How’s work?”), but it also means a lot of desserts. It’s a trade off (and yes, I still sneak cookies before dinner and, yes, I would do that at a stranger’s Thanksgiving).

For my festivities, I am also lucky enough to only have a forty-five minute drive to the very town that brought you Thanksgiving. Since it’s at my in-laws house every year, I have a lot of leverage in the the car ride soundtrack. “Alice’s Restaurant” will obviously be played at noon, in typical Thanksgiving day fashion, but after that, I plan on listening to the below.

Check out “Go Stuff Yourself – The Thanksgiving Mixtape” “after the jump”

The first half of the mix is aimed at getting you amped up for the chaos and/or awkward conversations that await you; the second half is more subdued selections to pair with your food coma during the ride home.

Happy eating!

Julian Plenti – “Only If You Run”
The Rural Alberta Advantage – “Four Night Rider”
The Mountain Goats – “This Year”
Noah and the Whale – “Blue Skies”
Matt & Kim – “Daylight (Troublemaker Remix feat. De La Soul)”
Julian Casablancas – “11th Dimension”
Miike Snow – “Animal”
The Temper Trap – “Sweet Disposition”
The Big Pink – “Velvet”
Ambulance LTD – “Swim”
Jay Jay Pistolet – “Hooked Up On Us”
Denim on Denim – “Countess Unpronounceable”
Eels – “All The Beautiful Things”
Elliot Smith – “Thirteen”
Radiohead – “True Love Waits”
Bon Iver – “Blood Bank”
Tommy James and the Shondells – “Crimson and Clover”
The Middle East – “Blood”
The National – “Green Gloves”
The xx – “Heart Skipped a Beat”
Yeah Yeah Yeahs – “Hysteric” (Acoustic)
Oberhofer – “I Could Go”
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There are a few great film/album mashups. Two of the more obvious ones are Wizard of Oz/Dark Side of the Moon and Toy Story/OK Computer synchronizations. But rare is the instance of finding a film inspired by and created completely in an album’s image – an album that stands alone, but also perfectly scores said film. Noah and the Whale accomplish this with their second album release and film debut, The First Days of Spring. At the recent screening of the film (by the same name) at Piano’s in NYC, the man who would prefer to remain behind the curtain (if he had his way) and front man of Noah, Charlie Fink, answered the eternal chicken/egg conundrum for fans, confirming that the album actually came first.

A bit about The First Days of Spring, the album. It’s gorgeous. It’s incredibly sad. It conveys a melancholy kind of hope in a time of transition. Somewhat fitting, given that drummer Doug Fink has gracefully resigned to pursue his career in medicine, and has been replaced by drummer/pianist Jack Hansom, and an additional guitarist, Fred Abbottland. It is noteworthy to mention that these newest Whalers were not part of this recording, but will nonetheless be future collaborators and play at all gigs going forward. First Days… has more electric guitar (lonely), and is laden with wistful minor chords on the strings and piano (fitting). And the lyrics, are, well, very Noah (i.e. “You know in a year, it’s going to be better / You know in a year, I’m going to be happy” and “I don’t think that it’s the end, but I know we can’t keep going”).

Sweetly depressing.

The storyline that threads through The First Days of Spring the film is not intended to match the lyrics of each song on the album, yet somehow the actions and expressions procured from the characters send similar messages. Both the film and the album as a standalone piece give way to an overwhelming sense of grasping to hope in situations where an individual feels physically and emotionally trapped. Perhaps this entrapment is rooted in the notion of definition – people often yearn and think fondly of simpler times of youth and young love – a time more conducive to imagination rather than taking a place in society. Once circumstances are (even mildly) defined, the unsettling suffocation of societal predestination sets in. The uncertainty of the future, being controlled by the invisible hand of societal norms, can resign a person to a bleak sense of status quo. Though it is a sad film, the aesthetics are incredible and there are hints of David Lynch sprinkled throughout it.

But enough with the pontificating. Buy the album, watch the film, find those glimmering moments of hope and love in life and never let them go.

I recently returned from a three week holiday in Europe (I’ve always wanted to say that – three years ago I had never been on a plane), and I found Volcano Choir’s [MySpace] debut album stuffed between hundreds of Thrillist newsletters, Facebook notifications and “Fwd: fwd: fwd – this is sooo cute!” messages from my mother. It’s been a week or so and I’ve been dragging my feet hard on this review because, well, I’ll come right out and say it – I think that our fearless leader here at Radio Exile has intentionally assigned this to me, knowing FULL WELL my feelings on Bon Iver. You sly dog, you!

See, Volcano Choir is a collaboration that predates and includes my favorite mountain man, as well as a handful of Wisconsin folk from Collections of Colonies of Bees and Bon Iver.

Since the cool kids have calmed down and started growing pot bellies instead of beards, I figured it was time to give Bon Iver another go. They kept popping up on my iTunes Genius mix, (a bit presumptuous of the man behind the curtain), and as it turned out, Mr. Genius was able to slowly but surely sell me on For Emma… It started with “Skinny Love,” moved on to “Blindsided,” and then I actually purchased “Blood Bank” two days ago and have it running on repeat.

No, this is not a review about Bon Iver. But now that I accept, “get” and sort of enjoy Bon Iver, it helps me understand the Volcano Choir collaboration. Let’s discuss.

When I listened to VC’s first track, “Husks and Shells,” I instantly returned to one of my favorite stops on my above-mentioned holiday – the archeological site of Pompei. Without making any terrible puns or correlations to the band’s name, this song, along with several others on the album, would have provided the perfect soundtrack for wandering around the cobbled streets of this ancient town, frozen in time by the wrath of an ominous rupture. First impression is a quiet fascination, followed by a sense of haunting, the fragility of time and space, and an overwhelming notion of being the tiniest speck in the eyes of the world. Initially, this album also captures that.

The lyrics are tricky to understand – I’m not sure I’ve unscrambled any of what’s being said, and I don’t think I’m supposed to. The album has a somewhat of a paint-by-numbers feel, but in an “I’m going to mess up the number assignments, paint this horse blue and see what happens” way. And just when you think you’re hitting a groove, Volcano Choir changes the contours of the entire painting. They gently mess with electronics and loopings, so if you’re looking for that folksy ethereal swirl that is Bon Iver, you’ll only catch glimpses. The album sort of peters out through the middle, but ambles it’s way back with “Cool Knowledge” and “Still.”

Like I said, it would be a great soundtrack for Pompei. If you doubt me, you should probably use this as your excuse to visit Italy to see for yourself.

[mp3] Volcano Choir – “Island, IS”
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With a new drummer in tow, Dappled Cities [MySpace] hit the ground running with their third release, Zounds. And, as the name suggests, it’s both surprising and darker than previous Dappled albums. It’s infused with everything you want in “art rock” – the keys outweigh the guitar, the abstract lyrics, the funkadelic musical bunny trails.

This album hints at The Velvet Underground influences; Tim Derricourt even sounds like Lou Reed in several songs. The updated glam sound scapes are much tighter on this release than all prior and gone is their beachy sound of yesteryear – though atmospheric and catchier, it lacked the edge and maturity that Dappled incorporates on Zounds. It’s hard to compare or even criticize; like when people became upset with John Mayer not putting out another sugary, acoustic album. His new stuff is great. His old stuff is great, but he had to grow up and “explore the space” at some point. It’s the same kind of thing here.

While some of the songs might strike you initially as peculiar, try listening to “Middle People” and “Don’t Go There” before you fall face first into the album. It’s the decoder ring you’re looking for.

[mp3] Dappled Cities – “Answer is Zero”
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Dead Scene Radio [MySpace] is what you get when you smash Elvis Costello-like vocals with Bob Dylan-ish lyrics and a smidgen of electric guitar – the pace is upbeat and jovial. The lead singer sometimes sounds like he has a stuffed-up nose, but it works itself into the music as a stylistic mechanism. We should be looking at this EP as a good indicator of what’s to come because really, can you ever have too much Elvis Costello or Bobby D.?

Check out some tunes “after the jump”

[mp3] Dead Scene Radio – “Don’t You Know”

“In January 2009, Dead Scene Radio was born, fusing two pre-existing bands, The Domestics and The Implodes. This new music baby found its origins from the mother of Indie rock carrying a bit of soul and punk in its bloodstream. Emerging onto the scene from its birthplace of Kalamazoo, DSR joins the ever-evolving scene of Michigan music. Seeking its guidance with influcences from artists like The Clash, Ted Leo and the Pharmacists, Thin Lizzy, The Beatles and a touch of Motown, DSR contributes its fair share to the Mitten Rock Movement.”

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Some background?

The idea behind our Random Keywords Review Challenge was simple: we get or come across lots of music we’d like to bash with a nasty review. Instead, we’ve devised a way to say things in a funnier way by asking our friends around the web to come up with 5-6 key terms that need to be fit into every review. This makes us think things through and, maybe, causes us to laugh at the review more instead of feeling so damn jaded. If the review gets all the terms into the piece, and thus makes it through the challenge successfully, SMS buys them a shirt from Elbo.ws. Not sure what we’ll do the next time, but I am sure I can wing it.

This review’s “challenge words” were: refrigerator, bowling pin, enthusiastic, death panel and fingertips.

Show me a little love. My husband bought the new Third Eye Blind album. In fact, he had pre-ordered it. He says 3EB is to him as Better Than Ezra is to me.

I have no problem with that.

I synced up the ol’ iPods two mornings ago. His crap was on my iPod. This crap, to be precise.

We hit the train platform – I started grinning and no, it wasn’t your “Yeah I’m totally into this!” grin. I stifled laughs on the train, while he gave me quizzical “What? I LOVE this!” looks.

Somebody please just bludgeon me with a bowling pin because I am going to have to listen to this for the rest.of.my.life. We need to do something. Maybe send this album to Obama so we can get a preliminary death panel going on it? Test it out? See if it works? Please.

When he got home, I told him I was not a fan. I must have said it in a snarky tone, because he went on a “No more Noah and the Whale on roadtrips!!! Frightened Rabbit is Terrible!” tirade (sidebar: I have decided to mention Noah and the Whale in every post for the rest of this year). Hey, I can’t help it if I’m bent about one of my favorite bands (ref:http://radioexile.com/2009/06/24/where-have-you-gone-my-better-than-ezra/) selling out to grocery store radio! I’m happy that this 3EB album blows. I thought he’d share in my pain of love and loss, but he digs this album – legitimately.

Yes, a little bit of me died that day.

There’s absolutely no denying that 3EB’s debut album was a gem. Absolute diamond in the pop genre. I’ll take it a step further and say that the last four songs of their debut (“I Want You,” “The Background,” “Motorcycle Drive-By,” and “God of Wine”) are the most memorable in that particular order than on any album I’ve ever heard. They are perfect – they flow incredibly, they are still uniquely relevant 10+ years later, and the lyrics are fantastic.

(Maybe I love these songs so much, that perhaps I cannot hear if they are dated? Do songs become immortal if they speak to you personally? Can you not hear it become passe?)

The only album that comes close to this flow is Dashboard Confessional‘s So Impossible EP. When I saw them for free, they actually played the EP in order – Chris Carrabba knew what he was doing. I digress. But honestly, 3EB’s first album was virtually flawless, and in knowing that they can craft that kind of music, that they have this talent at their fingertips, well, Ursa Major is pathetic.

If I had a refrigerator full of music, this album would be that can of fancy tuna way in the back that has been there since God-knows-when but I feel guilty about throwing it away because I spent my hard earned lootcakes on it. “Sharp Knife” is the best glimpse we have into the past of what was once. Musically they aren’t necessarily backsliding nor progressing – sure some of the songs echo prior albums. They incorporate their signature 3EB guitar riffs, while only using power chords sparingly. This is not what concerns me.

After their self-titled debut, 3EB sort of transitioned into a lyrically sexed-up pop culture glutton. Which would be fine, except on their latest release it seems every other word is in your face gimmicky “duct tape vest” “water-pick showerheads” et. al. These are not going into the Lyrics Hall of Fame the way some of them will from their first album. It’s like pop culture threw up all over this album, and you can’t get the stink out. There were some dry heaves through 3EB’s past two albums, Blue and Out of the Vein, but Ursa Major seems to be projectile. And while it is apparent that Jenkins & Co. are trying to force down social statements of some kind, the message that ultimately comes across is your typical “defeat this world of hate and embrace love.”

Obviously, Stephen.

And the enthusiastic lyrical delivery (often spoken, not sung) is on a “one of these things is not like the other” level. Maybe it’s supposed to be lighthearted. Maybe Jenkins wants me to laugh when he sings, “Give me my pictures back you effing w. (rhymes with bore)!” I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to know at this point.

But really, for all of this – this heartbreaking downward spiral of Third Eye Blind – I absolutely blame Charlize Theron. Give him his pictures back, already.

Congrats to Holly for meeting our “Random Keywords Review Challenge” and thanks again to Brandon from Elbo.ws for helping out.

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I love going to music festivals. I also love free. Free music festivals within a 30mi radius of me = no-brainer. This was my second free festival this summer (see Tom Williams’ Siren Festival Review).

God bless you, failing economy!

The Host (C+)

WFNX seemed to be a little all over the place. They didn’t get back to us in time for press pass info, so I tried to get one on my own. The poor girl at the info tent didn’t have any information, and seemed disenchanted with being so far away from the music. She called her boss, who said I needed a business card as proof that I was writing for Radio Exile. He did not want to see the website on my iPhone or two forms of identification – he really wanted that business card. Lame. I then tried my hand at seducing a strapping young man near the stage entrance. He made a call. Strike two.

Note to self: Work on sweet talking/showing more skin.

The City of Boston Events Staff Coordinator squawked over the PA system in between every band, demanding our attention and reinforcing the “no moshing or crowd surfing” rule. “Listen up! Listen to ME!! I’ll shut this event down so fast!…” She threatened to turn this car right around if we didn’t behave. It gave the show a “going to the mall with your parents” vibe.

(In reality, this announcement was probably only necessary for The Gaslight Anthem, as the rest of the bands were pretty tame).

Also we had to wait over thirty minutes between each act. There was only one stage, and between the way the venue was set up and having nothing to do between sets, this was ridiculous. You just stood. And waited. Or went to CVS Pharmacy. Two stages would have been better – get some local bands in there and give us a little somethin’ somethin’ while the bigger acts futz around with tunings and sound checks.

The Venue (B-)

There’s no getting around it – Boston’s City Hall Plaza is ugly. It’s comprised of massive concrete structures and a lot of unnecessary stairs, but it spans quite a bit. That being said, I’m not really sure why the stage was squished into one tiny corner of the place. When I saw Dashboard Confessional for free a few years back (best cover of “Fake Plastic Trees” I’ve ever heard), it was set up in the wide open area of City Hall, so thousands of people could fit and also see the stage. This show had hundreds of people off to the sides.

There was a Beer Tent, but it was virtually impossible to move once you weaseled your way towards the stage. I didn’t see any snack availability either. The event was supposed to start at 4pm. It started at 4:30pm.

Note: I have been spoiled this summer by attending the Siren Festival at Coney Island. Siren was loads of fun. Not only was it aesthetically pleasing with classic carnival rides whirring in the background, but there was tons of food and stuff to do in the downtime. You could ride that death trap they call the Cyclone (there’s a joke in there somewhere about screws loose, I’m just not sure where), retrace Jared Leto’s “Requiem for a Dream” steps on the Pier, stuff your face with Nathan’s tasty little treats, or play “Shoot the Freak” in between bands. What better way to spend an afternoon than to listen to live music and then smash into a fellow Radio Exiler with a bumper car? Super fun.

The Music

Just like Harvard, no one gets a failing grade… especially at a free festival.

Ra Ra Riot (A)
Ra Ra hit the stage first and set the bar pretty high. They didn’t have much interaction with the crowd, but I’m guessing that’s because they only had time to fit in six or so songs. The vocals were as crisp and unique live as they are on The Rhumb Line – I wish they had been turned up a little louder, just because I love Wes Miles voice. Miles also donned a red tee with the Soviet Union’s hammer and sickle – hot. The electric strings were awesome and carried outdoors quite nicely. They are playing The Paradise in October. I want to go.

Passion Pit (A-)
The kiddies loved Passion Pit, and what’s not to love? Indietronic is always fun in a crowd. There was plenty of dancing and hand waving in the sky. This leads to me ask about the friendship bracelet resurgence – what’s this all about? There were tons of girls wearing several different multicolored homemade friendship bracelets. They were cheerful and really cool. Make me some? I’m not super familiar with Passion Pit’s music, but it was a good time. The vocals weren’t as good as Ra Ra’s, hence the drop in scoring.

Metric (B-)
Following Passion Pit, Metric decided on an acoustic set. We didn’t find out until the last song that they were without two band members because one of them just had a baby. This would have been helpful at the beginning of the set, as the rumblings amongst the crowd seemed to be expecting a rock-out sesh. As one guy standing near me said to his friends, “that was okay – I mean, I wouldn’t mind listening to it while making my bed in the morning, but in this atmosphere it was sort of boring.” It also seemed like the guitarist and the piano playing Emily Haines (who looks a lot like Madonna) were battling over who was going to keep time. The acoustic version of “Help I’m Alive” was cool, but for the most part was lost amongst the chatty crowd.

Gaslight Anthem (A+)
This was my third time seeing them, and they have yet to disappoint. They had the most energy out of all the bands I saw. Brian Fallon constantly smiles, and it’s infectious – I have yet to see a performer have a better time on stage than him. He talked a bit to the crowd, saying how they were happy to be back in Boston & that it feels like coming home. Then he quickly followed with “We aren’t making that up, you know. You can go ask the other fans around the country, we don’t say that to everyone – we don’t say that when we go to ‘St. Louis. We say that to Boston fans because we like you… but we’re also a little afraid of you.’” They mostly played stuff off of their latest release, The ’59 Sound. I’d see them a hundred times. Their albums are good, and their live show is better.

The Airborne Toxic Event & The Bravery (N/A)
I bailed before these two took the stage. Between the forty minute wait between sets, the incessant smoking, and the dude standing in front of me showing off the knife in his pocket, I had had enough. My back hurt, I was hungry (which means I was getting irritable) and completely out of water.

I just may be getting too old for this… at least without snacks.

So Nurses [MySpace] categorizes themselves on MySpace as a “Zouk / Western Swing / Visual” band, which is more or less a fancy way of saying “party music.” Sure.

Their latest album, Apple’s Acre sucks you in at the beginning with the bare bones of the ivories on “Technicolor”, pairing them with a jiving beat and clear vocals, but after this you morph into Harvey Dent: put the mob behind bars or stop the Joker.

It’s the vocals that really confuse me. They sound like a Beach Boys clone that secretly want to be Gnarls Barkley set against pretty, shoegaze melodies. There are notes that are quick, harsh and seemingly unnecessary (like a balloon popping – see “Man at Arms”). Gritty vocals can be great (like with the Rural Alberta Advantage, Smashing Pumpkins, et.al.) and voices that are nasally, strained and cracking can pair really well with, well, pretty much anything, but there has to be some sort of “leveling out”. This is a nonstop biplane show, zipping and buzzing its way through “Skip to my Lou”, echo-filled tunes.

It’s hard to take it in one sitting. Soften up the voice a tad, stop trying to be Bon Iver, and we’re saving Gotham, people and, maybe delivering a more palatable record in the process.

[mp3] Nurses – “Caterpillar Playground”

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Credit: Bauer Griffin Online

After a soggy June for all of us in the northeast, summer is now fast approaching. This means your pasty white ass is going to grace the world with its presence, whether it be at a beach, a water park, or running around on your parents lawn through their circa 1987 fan sprinkler. Summer heat is no joke, and if you’re anything like me, you want to be wearing little more than your undies while you sweat it out.

There’s only one teensy problem, and I’m calling the elephant in the room, literally: winter weight.

It happens. You know you’re heading down that slippery slope when the supermarket checkout girl says, “‘Sup, Holly?” raising a disapproving eyebrow while scanning your 4th pint of Ben & Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk that week. Or when the local manager of the liquor store continues to stock Newcastle, even though you seem to be the only person drinking it. Winters can be harsh, especially in New England. And there’s nothing more indie than skinny jeans. That being said…

Enough is enough! The weather is about to get nice, and you, my little hipster, need to get it together. Stop stroking that ironic mustache and start hitting the elliptical. Sure it’s mid-July – but it’s not too late! While the gym may be an intimidating torture chamber (the jacked dudes who walk around carrying invisible logs under each arm, the insufferable music, the girls who never break a sweat and seem to really enjoy running, those sick sadistic little..), I am here to help you survive. While I am not qualified to offer you actual excercise advice (lucky for you) or nutritious tips for divorcing your muffin top, I can give you my (sort-of indie) gym mix that will make the whole experience somewhat bearable. Give it a go. It works for me.

Lifting, etc.

“The World At Large” – Modest Mouse
“Whole Lotta Love” – Led Zeppelin
“And it Rained All Night” – Thom Yorke
“Factories” – Winter Gloves
“Kissing the Lipless” – The Shins
“Hysteria” – Muse
“Dirt off Your Shoulder/Lying From You” – Collision Course (Jay-Z Linkin Park mashup)
“Troublemaker” – Weezer
“Wraith” – The Garden District
“Slow Show” – The National
“The Worst Things Beautiful” – Ours
“Supersonic” – Oasis
“Cuntry Boys and City Girls” – The Fratellis
“Warning” – Incubus
“Geronimo” – Phantom Planet
“Make Damn Sure” – Taking Back Sunday

Cardio

“There’s No Secrets This Year” – Silversun Pickups
“Am I Wry? No” – Mew
“Just Impolite” – Plushgun
“All Over You” – The Spill Canvas
“Four Night Rider” – The Rural Alberta Advantage
“Our Bovine Public” – The Cribs
“Hallelujah” – The Helio Sequence
“Shake! Shake!” – The Subways
“Apply Some Pressure” – Maximo Park
“Degausser” – Brand New
“Biko” – Bloc Party
“A Modern Way of Letting Go” – Idlewild
“Guilty Pleasure” – Cobra Starship
“Boomboxes and Dictionaries” – The Gaslight Anthem
“Square 9″ – Frightened Rabbit
“Best of You” – Foo Fighters
“Only One” – Yellowcard

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Better Than Ezra [Official Site, MySpace] . You are easily one of my five favorite bands of all time. Over the past fifteen years, you’ve faithfully accompanied me on my radio, tape deck, Walkman, Discman, iPod. You always make an appearance on my road trips. I have more memories attached to your songs than any other band. My prom date played How Does Your Garden Grow? in his pickup truck while driving on back roads en route to the dance hall. My friends and I skipped school on sunny spring days and blared Deluxe while doing a variety of forgivable teenage things. I regularly fell asleep to “Everything in 2s” and “Under You” during college. Your albums were perfect for breaking up and making out. Friction, Baby is one of the albums I’d choose if I could only listen to five for the rest of my life. I lovelovelove you.

But with your latest release, Paper Empire, you’re breaking my heart.

For long-term bands to be successful, one of two things must happen – you either need to continue to reinvent yourself, like U2 or Radiohead, or you need find a way to bring your listeners back to their halcyon days. With the latter, I’m not referring to keeping the same sound on every album (if I wanted that I’d listen to Green Day or Everclear). No, what I’m taking about is that indescribable sweet spot, somewhere in between the lyrics, beats and guitar that makes you feel invincible and happy. Something that will give you the rush of sneaking out past curfew, the butterflies and electricity before that first kiss, something to make you lose all inhibitions and sing at the top of your lungs with the windows down… at a stop light.

Something to become your life soundtrack without trying.

You were this. You made this kind of music.

Your latest release, Paper Empire, is… cute. But then, so are teddy bears, and I don’t fall asleep with them anymore. The first time I heard Paper Empire, I was on the train commuting to work, giddy with anticipation at hearing your new album. It was a gray day, I was staring out the window into backyards of people who live near the train tracks – toys, trash and tools littered about in most of them – and as my thumb reached yet again for the “next song” button, I realized that everything, even my favorite band, is fleeting.

It’s like that “end of an era” realization. When I was younger, my boyfriend, my brother, a few neighborhood kids and I would play wiffleball on my parents side lawn. The railroad tie was an automatic out, the shed was positioned perfectly as a backstop, and we used a white plastic chair as the strike zone. We’d play all summer long. Slowly but surely, it became evident where the pitchers mound was – a small foot patch of dirt turned into an eight-foot oval barren of all life in the middle of our lush lawn. The day came when my dad finally said “enough is enough – you want to play, take a walk to the high school.” We were shocked and appalled. We tried to play at the softball field, but it wasn’t the same. We had gravel in our sneakers, the layout was terrible – we bickered and eventually resigned to the fact that it was the end of the Wiffleball Era. There are times when change is great – this was not one of them. The same goes for this album.

I’ve given it a few weeks, BTE. Your fans are thinking it, but I’m going to say it: after four years of playing a show here and there in Louisiana, after four whole years of musing and tinkering about – this what you have given us?! Your lyrics on this album sound more contrived than emotionally driven (the vocals, per usual, are great). The soundscapes in every single song are tacky, unnecessary filler, unless you are intentionally shooting for more supermarket airtime. Before The Robots didn’t blow me away like your other albums did, but I learned to love it. This musical rut you’ve hit with Paper Empire, however, is a crevasse that even Bear Grylls couldn’t get out of.

Obviously you have explored a myriad of sounds on your albums over the years, and it’s almost impossible to compare songs from your previous albums to this. You always seem to have a few “goofyish” (yeah,that’s a word…now) tunes, a few emotional ballads, a few rock-out types – variety, I get it. But with Paper Empire, it seems like a formulaic cop-out; a cringe-inducing state of complacency. It’s like you’ve lost your muse, or whatever was the driving force behind lyrics like “drowning in the brevity” and “age undermines you when you close your eyes / we pass right by you.” Now we have the borderline cliché, “What would you do? What would you say? If everyone you love came back for just one day?” and “The world is spinning turning day to night / And my thoughts are running at the speed of light…” Oy. And then there’s those cheesy soundscapes…

I expected more from you because I know you are better than this. Were you trying to play it safe? Are you going after the soccer mom demographic? Is it the new label? Why not instead re-record Surprise?

I really hate to think that this could be your last album ever. Don’t do that to me. Don’t do that to your loyal listeners. Please.

It’s tough love, boys. But it had to be said.

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If you plan on seeing Plushgun [Official Site, MySpace] live, be ready to dance your heels off! If you have their album, Pins and Panzers, you already know that it’s pretty much impossible to not bop around to it wherever your iPod may take you (laundromat, crosswalks, your local ice cream establishment). They’ve been compared to The Postal Service, but they’re better. Lots. Better vocals, better beats, better lyrics, better hooks. Synth has never been so much fun.

In April they opened in for The Cliks at T.T. The Bear’s Place in Cambrdige, MA, but they really should have been the headliner. The day after the gig, I went on vacation to the sunny Dominican Republic, and planned to write up a little somethin-somethin on them while poolside sipping Coco Locos. I held off, because one day when checking my email in between sunscreen applications, I saw that they were playing again in Cambridge, in a month. This time they were headlining. Price of admission? $7. Cheaper than a Sam’s Seasonal at The Garden, my friends. So, I did what any rational person would do: tickets all around!

The show was again at T.T. The Bears. During the performance, Plushgun tossed handfuls of glow sticks to the crowd, which seemed to be a natural progression for the show. Don’t envision your rave days in warehouses with chemical aphrodisiacs – this was a gesture to create pure joy. It was like when you were given a glow stick as a little kid on Independence Day, and you’d jump around with it to whatever music was playing at the cookout your parents took you to. That age before you knew embarrassment. Caution to the wind. Giant toothy grin. Dancing about. This is just a little of what Plushgun brings to the table.

It’s quite apparent that the trio has the time of their lives on stage, and that there’s no place at that particular moment that they’d rather be. Lead singer Dan Ingala jolts and jitters happily about – he just may jump out of his skin one of these days, with the way the music owns him. Guitarist Taylor Armstrong should be a role model for the indie community, in his mannerisms and attire – understated, but so rock and roll. He also pulled off these slick little solos in some of the songs, which seems like it would be tough thing to do, given the indietronic nature of their music. It was cool. And let’s not forget the drums – yep, they’re live. From listening to the album, you may think for a second or two that there’s a loop or machine involved, but don’t be fooled: drummer Matt Bogdanow is very much real, very smiley, aaannd he wears aviators the whole show. Plushgun’s nonstop frenetic energy makes you lose all sense of social inhibitions. From the first few “Pong meets a rubber band” notes of their opening track, “Dancing in a Minefield,” you become an arm-swishing, head-bopping, hip shimmying, dancing fool. It’s great.

They played every track from Pins and Panzers. It’s hard to choose a favorite song, but I especially liked “Just Impolite.” To wrap up the show, they stayed true to their album and strung “14 Candles” together with “Without a Light.” It was at this point when Ingala jumped off the stage and danced amongst the crowd. With the emphatic ending of “Without A Light,” the crowd immediately started chanting, “One more song! One more song!” After a moment or two, the band came back, and Ingala threw his arms jokingly in the air and said, “Alright alright!” They obliged with two more songs, the first being “Let Me Kiss You (And I’ll Fade Away),” and then a cover song from Ingala’s former band, the song best described as “the 80′s song” (this may or may not be the actual name, I forget). During the encore they invited anyone who wanted to come dance up on stage with them. I have never seen this happen. Ever. Checkmate.

It’s really only a matter of time for these guys. Plushgun is spreading faster than germs in a subway. Trust me when I say get on board and catch them.

Jill Sobule‘s [MySpace] latest, California Years is medicore at best, and gimmicky at worst. It’s an album that’s as forumalic as this week’s Danielle Steele publication. Her voice fluctuations are similar in every song and her voice sounds like some saccharine character from a Disney movie. Mix in some southern country twang and “wahhhs” from the guitar, and you’ve got yourself fifty-seven minutes of “meh”. The best song on the album is “Sweetheart,” until that riding off into the sunset guitar ruins it. And then there’s the token “band behind the vocalist” that puts out stereotypical drumbeats and super safe guitar solos. Yawn . Honestly, this album would have been ten times better if it were backed only by acoustic guitar – much more conducive to her girly girl voice.

And now I want to talk about her song, “Nothing to Prove.” It’s the song that turned me against the album.

Every so often an album will house a song that can change the way you listen to the rest of the album. It’s not necessarily the gel that keeps it all together, it’s more like a filter that you hear the album through. “Nothing to Prove’s” lyrics drive me absolutely mad. I have to post them.

I remember laying down
It was 1983
Under the tree while listening to London Calling or something like that
Twenty-three years later
I’m here at a meeting
Trying to impress someone at a dying record company
I got nothing to prove

Nothing to prove
Nothing to prove
Once I was as miserable as you
Nothing to prove
Nothing to prove
I got nothing to prove

Nothing to prove
Nothing to prove
Once I was as miserable as you
Nothing to prove
Nothing to prove
I got nothing to prove

The pretentiousness oozes. “Maybe I just judged her wrong, but I’m usually I’m right” – wow. And she hates clear skin. And she doesn’t like the girl who’s looking at her like she’s a word that people haven’t used since the sixties. And she’s just so clever with her “steel industry” lyric – how edgy! Touché! Though this song’s tone may be inadvertent, or satirical – there’s something in the way she sings it that carrys over, lyrically, in listening to the rest of the album.

The word on the street is that her fans donated to her so she’d make this gem of a listen. I know this because the last song on the album is her singing all of the names of those who donated. It’s lame and gimmicky. And it makes me want to take a shower. But clearly, Ms. Sobule has nothing to prove, with this umpteenth humdrum of an album.

In “Cherry Chapstick” measurement terms, I give this album 1/100th of a CC, or, an “Island in the Sun,” at best.

[mp3] Jill Sobule – “A Good Life”
[mp3] Jill Sobule – “San Francisco”
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Seriously, who eats chips on the train during the rush hour commute? I’m watching this woman stuff her paw into a tiny chip bag, crumbs spewing every which way as she Jengas the chips out of the bag and jams them down her gullet.

Chomp chomp chomp.

Where has all of the common decency gone?!? Gross. I hate having to turn up my iPod to drown out the “impoliteness” (then I run the risk of being the “obnoxious earbud girl”). Turning it up to listen to Bell X1‘s [Myspace] latest, however, isn’t such a bad thing.

Blue Lights on the Runway picks right up where Flock left off. You have your chilled out, pretty ballads and you have songs using wedgies metaphorically. And that’s only the beginning of this gem of an album. The albums vocals (provided again by Paul Noonan) wind around sweet piano chords, power through the heavier electronic sounds, and swirl amongst Bell X1′s many realms of introspection, regardless of the tempo.

Bell X1′s lyrics are fascinating, and this album in particular has exceptional wordage. The band create abstract imagery for the listener, using such specific and vivid words to convey a flair for the melodramatic, but at times, they’re very clever and funny. To pull individual lyrics to prove this to you would be doing the album a disservice – you really need to hear them in relation to the melodies they’ve crafted.

You walk away from this album with a certain spring in your step – frolic in a field or sit back and marvel at how you are just a fleck of gold in this infinite world. Blue Lights will happily cater to both.

And as for the band, well, Bell X1 leaves me no choice but to conclude with one little question: Damien who?

I’m going to get “Bon Iver-ed” by this band, I just know it. Let me explain. When the clever recluse (aka Justin Vernon) wandered out of his log cabin and onto the indie scene, I was asked to give his album a listen and subsequently review it. As an indie reviewer, a lot of what we hear can be hit or miss. After listening to For Emma, Forever Ago, I swore I’d never mind a screaming baby on a 7 hour flight again. I was not a fan, I couldn’t write the review. Call it “writer’s block”, call it lazy (I really should have stepped it up), but I was all set. That bearded flannel fool was the straw that sent me on a music writing hiatus.

(The Here We Go Magic [MySpace] review is coming… promise)

I walked around for weeks ranting and scoffing to anyone in my life who cared about music. A lot of my friends hadn’t heard of Bon Iver yet. Slowly but surely the name stuck; many gave it a listen and the consensus was that they didn’t mind it. There were rumblings. And then one fine afternoon I picked up my bad habit known as Rolling Stone and saw that they gave it four stars. I recall throwing the mag down, disgusted, and when my husband asked what was up, I made some snarky comment about RS needing a towel. And then Bon Iver infiltrated my life: top ten lists, all of my fave indie blogs, even the esteemed New Yorker ran a piece on Vernon.

“A religious experience! ”

“Unlike any music on the entire planet!”

“Puts Thom Yorke’s crooning to shame!”

These were just some of the nuggets that my eyes fell on as the weeks passed (these may be slight exaggerations…slight). I read them, all of them, and kept an open mind. Suddenly, I became completely insecure about the whole thing. Maybe my music ear was going deaf.

Listened again. And again.

I am still not sold.

I’m not sure why I can’t like it. People really love Vernon, love his music, love his weird little stories about living in a cabin, love that he is so “normal” in every definition of the word. It doesn’t make sense – I enjoy chopping wood (yes, I really do), I love acoustic guitar, I adore folk without twang, I have a weak spot for unrequited love lyrics – all signs indicate that I should become the Bon Iver’s “Mel” [Flight of the Conchords]

I can’t seem to shake this feeling of the whole thing being contrived. Or maybe I just can’t get into Vernon’s ethereal voice. Or the way I’m always being corrected on the band’s name pronunciation (when I do say it correctly, I almost always want to follow it up with a “oooooh”). Or maybe it’s a subliminal aversion to flannel and beards. It’s as if a horde of indie bands were waiting for this kind of breakout so they could sprout tufts on their faces and dust off their Eddie Vedder specials. Something within this “movement” lacks originality – and what I’m saying is a complete hypocrisy because I can’t point you to one band that sounds anything like Bon Iver (oooooh) before they seeped into the indie world.

This extensive backstory is the only way how I can best describe Here We Go Magic’s [MySpace] self-titled debut. I’m not saying it’s the next Bon Iver – it’s like Bon Iver for stoners. While it involves more electronic soundscapes than essences of getting back to the fat of the land, it maintains a certain That 70’s Show “circle scene” feel to it. The recording equipment is old-school, which is always a nice change from the crystal clarity of everything nowadays. The album also jams and bunnytrails and has a lot of repetition within each song. Ideal for hippies, but for the sober portion of the world, it’s background music at best. I’d rather Dylan. Either Dylan. Or Phish.

This album is going to Bon Iver me. My prediction includes a grassroots uprising, starting in Colorado. Then Vermont; a new kind of Oregon Trail! Then they’ll land Saturn commercials. Letterman. Bellbottoms. Daisy chains.

“This band puts The String Cheese Incident to shame!”

“Finally a progressive jam band!”

We learn on 60 Minutes that it’s on Obama’s iPod.

And this will be the moment that I fall in love with Forever Emma… and buy up all the skinny jeans on the clearance racks.

[mp3] Here We Go Magic - “Fangela”
[mp3] Here We Go Magic – “Tunnelvision”

Jimmy Eat World, meet Paper The Operator [Myspace]. I think you’re going to get on great. You have similar characteristics – you both enjoy those jingly jangly power chords, charged drumlines, and long walks on the beach (maybe not the latter). Where Paper The Operator drifts stylistically, is in the guitar solos – they are more rambling and Weezer-like, as opposed to something set and structured. It works. Paper the Operator just dropped this new EP called Solemn Boyz, and I really think you’re going to pair well, like coffee and chocolate. With your powers combined, you will be power pop’s mocha!

Musically, Solemn Boyz is deceivingly positive, while the lyrics imply that everything isn’t all smiles and lucky charms. Their lyrics are down to earth, with an occasional bit of clever (ie. “Baby to label this redundant is the worst redundancy”). The harmonies are typical of the genre, but pleasing and smooth. Vocalist John Sebastian may have his hands full with his solo project and the project with the wifey (see: The Color Wheels [Our Review]), but Paper the Operator holds much promise with this taste of what’s to come from a full band getup.

Trust me, Jimmy. You two are going to be fast friends.

Paper The Operator – “Solemn Boyz”

Somebody told me Joaquin Phoenix has decided to become a rapper. I didn’t want to believe them. However, the source being my husband, who has an insane photographic memory of all things, including but not limited to celebrities and social media (he had to tell me who Chuck Bass was), I had a funny feeling he wasn’t joking. Needless to say, I turned to a third party. In 0.06 seconds (source: google.com) I found, to my shock and horror, that Joaquin was in fact rapping (I also found that he fell off stage after a spit sesh – hilarious. Joaquin Falling)

This may be old news to you (and my husband), but it’s time we revisit what I like to call “The K-Fed Phenomenon.” Kevin Federline, grasping oh-so-tightly to Britney’s, em, coattails, decides rather than contributing something he’s good at to the world (insert cricket chirps here) with his rise through tabloid stardom, he instead attempts to drop it like its hot. There’s nothing wrong with having a passion for something you’re not good at, and I’m not saying that you can’t improve (just look at what the V-Box did for Brit and everyone else on mainstream radio). He’s just not cut out for rapping the way I’m not cut out for drawing stick figures. Truly.

I pose it to you, dear reader, to help me answer this age-old question of why. Why do celebrities outside of the music industry, time and time again, attempt to make this leap across the fiery pit? Is it because they have the money and resources, so they can now pursue their first love? Do they think their talent has no boundaries? Have they missed their real calling? I think greed and self-promotion is only a slice of the pie.

The K-Fed Phenomenon is peculiar, and sends a message to critics and fans alike that these celebrities may have low-self esteem or are incredibly needy, despite their popularity. Why take the risk? Are the rewards worth it – juggling multiple careers in front of the public eye? And the public is demanding. The fans, the tours, the interviews, the movie shoots – is it worth the scrutiny and lack of free time, just to feel a little more loved? Maybe if their career is tanking and they don’t want to give up their posh lifestyle, this leap is one of desperation? I don’t know. I do know that using their name to promote themselves in a different art form is not only risky to their primary career, but if they don’t succeed, they often become laughable, and this avenue they have taken then becomes a tarnish on their name, to be used as banter at dinner parties worldwide.

It has been done. Like them or hate them, successful celebrities who have more or less also succeeded musically include guyliner-wearing Jared Leto, Beyoncé, JLo, Billy Bob Thorton, Justin Timberlake (let’s take a moment to remember his lip-syncing scene in Southland Tales Justin Timberlake – Southland Tales), and my personal favorite, Jason Schwartzman (this guy’s everywhere!). I will also add Flight of the Conchords to this category because I love them.

Successful celebrities who have failed in the music world, include Scarlett Johansson, Shaq (unless someone can confirm that he was actually singing in the Shaq/Shaft BK commercial, which was amazing), Paris Hilton, Allen Iverson, Joey Lawrence… to name a few.

And let’s not forget those who are terrible at acting who also suck at music: Heidi Montag. Hot bod, but seriously, what is she doing with her hands in this video? Heidi Montag – Higher Thanks Mario, but our princess is in another castle.

Eminem belongs somewhere. I’m not exactly sure where.

In the case of Joaquin, he appears to be pretty passionate about his budding rap career, which makes me tempted to throw “attention-whoring stunt” out the window – just look at that beard! Those moves! I really want him to rework Kelis‘ “Milkshake” into this particular rap Joaquin Phoenix Rapping. Close your eyes and imagine with me for a moment… “myyyy milkshake brings…”

It’s perplexing. He essentially became Johnny Cash. He could travel the country doing gimmicky Mama Mia/Beatlemania shows if he wanted. He could springboard into folk or country. Safe choices, but choices none-the-less. Oh and wait, there’s the whole fallback acting option. If you watch his performance in Walk the Line, and then listen to him rap, the only conclusions you can possibly draw are: 1.) Johnny Cash is rolling over in his grave 2.) This has to be a Daniel Day Lewis move and he’s prepping for the sequel to 8 Mile and 3.) Whatever is his rap name going to be?

Sometimes you need to leave the stick figures up to the professionals. And as far as potential success in a new medium is concerned, I refer you to something I was taught many moons ago at Dave Cowen’s Basketball Camp: practice doesn’t make perfect, it makes permanent. And there’s no Mekhi Phifer.

Keeping true to their namesake, Bell X1 has, yet again, broken the barrier of musical complacency with their upcoming release of Blue Lights on the Runway. The album’s vivid lyrics weave in between well-paired piano and guitar, much like on Flock. Blue Lights…, however, picks up where Flock left off by introducing a more prominent electronic character into the equation. Individually the songs may (at first pass) appear to be more simplistic than the ethereal-laden songs that you’re used to, but collectively it makes the album stylistically complex. And wonderful. It is also worth noting that the vocals fade out and resurface with the ebb and flow of the album’s soundscapes, impressively.

The album is set to drop stateside sometime in early March, and, much like the pastry that the band would like to be, Blue Lights… is a tasty treat. Read on to hear their thoughts about their latest release.

Holly Perry (HP): Who/what were your big influences in making Blue Lights on the Runway?
Bell X1: We recorded in a big draughty house in the middle of Ireland. The big influences would be Phil’s (the engineer) fancy porridge with cranberries in the mornings, and the woejous chips from a van that we would get on the way back from the pub on an evening out.

HP: What made you decide to integrate more of an electronic vibe in this album?
Bell X1: We wanted to dress the songs differently, I suppose, and play with new toys. It’s good to change up and try different things to keep it interesting and exciting for all concerned. Plus we had Tim O’Donovan recording with us, who’s played drums live with us for a few years but never recorded. He also likes the noises from boxes, and is a keyboard whiz.

HP: What was your favourite part about recording Blue Lights…?
Bell X1: We were more open to experimenting this time ’round, and captured some moments when we’d take a song on a detour that really worked. Moments that you’d never be able to recreate because you’d start thinking about it.

HP: Your lyrics are quite clever and specific (and sometimes seeming to be “tongue-in-cheek?”) – how do you go about crafting them?
Bell X1: I write down stuff or record it into my phone as it comes to me, and then take them and get to the actual work of making song with a rake and a hoe and piece of fertile ground.

HP: Will you be touring this album – how do you think it will differ from your Flock tour?
Bell X1: We most certainly will. It will feature different songs and a different order. We’ll also have two new musicians, Rory Doyle on drums and Marc Aubele on guitar and keys.

HP: What do you hope listeners take away from Blue Lights..?
Bell X1: A sense of “that wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

HP: “Light Catches Your Face” is tragically beautiful – could you please tell us a bit more as to “what all the fuss is about?”
Bell X1: I’m afraid I can’t be of assistance in this matter.

HP: What are you currently listening to and reading?
Bell X1: Currently listening to For Emma, Forever Ago by Bon Iver, The Renaissance by Q Tip and The Wonderful World of Sam Cooke. reading Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States.

HP: If Bell X1 were a food, it would be…
Bell X1: Apple Tart, hundreds and thousands of them.

“How Your Heart Is Wired” [mp3]