The Black Keys

The two-person outfit is a rarity in rock music. Sure, there have been scores of prominent songwriting duos throughout rock history – the likes of Lennon/McCartney, Jagger/Richards and Page/Plant. But those tandems were all part of larger ensembles in terms of recording and live performances. The duo structure has largely been limited to folk-rock oriented pairings like the Everly Brothers and Simon & Garfunkel. And aside from the too-short run of The Carpenters and the now-defunct White Stripes – which was always more of a 80/20 share of talent and contributions between Jack and Meg White – the rock duo is almost impossible to identify beyond the efforts of this week's profilees, The Black Keys, and their seventh studio record, El Camino – out last Tuesday on Warner Brothers' Nonesuch Records.

Despite the duo's unique composition in relation to other bands, the act – comprised of vocalist and guitarist Dan Auerbach and drummer Patrick Carney, although both dabble into other instruments to round out their sound – toes closer to the classic rock vintage than more progressive elements. In fact, the 11-track album could have easily emerged from the mid-70s, with its hearty blend of blues-based thump, Motown-flavored blue-eyed soul and trace amounts of late 60's psychedelia. But unlike their contemporary peers like The Flaming Lips or Beck, Auerback and Carney tack more towards tightly-constructed, stand-alone numbers than anything approaching the 24-hour song recently offered by The Flaming Lips or the genre-bending work of Beck. Still, for those of us more inclined to less free-flowing rock standards, El Camino should more than compensate for its limited breadth. Moreover, the compilation's accomplishments are more impressive considering the band's truncated roster.

Produced by the well-traveled and influential Danger Mouse (Brian Burton) – key architect of the alternative hip-hop and R&B act, Gnarls Barkely, along with Cee Lo Green – along with Auerbach and Carney, the release is clothed in a more uptempo vibe than previous Black Keys efforts, especially its 2010 predecessor, Brothers. The change plays to the duo's strengths, a hard-charging enthusiasm, the sort best exemplified by punk-informed blues acts like the John Spencer Blues Explosion or electronic-influenced artists like Matt & Kim. This is true from the outset, via the thumping leadoff single, "Lonely Boy." Auerbach's sludgy bass line and stabbing guitar set the stage for Carney's kinetic percussion through the verses. Auerbach's vocals are filtered through a foggy haze, while outside session organist Brian Burton's work hangs some flesh on the duo's bony foundation. Likewise, background vocals from Leisa Han, Heather Rigdon and Ashley Wilcoxson contribute some welcome soul to Auerbach's tangy singing.

The energy builds on the following "Dead and Gone," a pounding affair that somehow combines the same The Clash-style guitar slash from "Lonely Boy" with a Motown-coloured chorus along the lines of The Four Tops or Temptations, complete with handclaps and more solid chorus help from their trio of Han, Rigdon and Wilcoxson. It's such a peculiar blend that its thoroughly enjoyable, and Burton's wafting Hammond organ in the song's further reaches only adds to the tune's throwback flavor. After the track's abrupt conclusion, the jagged "Gold On The Ceiling" tamps down the rambunctiousness, but not the spirit. Auerbach's growling electric guitar is matched with a brightening acoustic guitar part and fuzzy keyboards. It also isn't hard to locate hints of The Doors an the number's outskirts. 

In as much record's opening trio of tracks points to a union of punk energy with R&B richness, in the clean-up spot, "Little Black Submarines" owes its foundation to straightforward classic rock, and possibly the most storied classic rock anthem, Led Zeppelin's "Stairway to Heaven." One can only hope Auerbach is overtly channeling Jimmy Page's iconic acoustic guitar part here, otherwise the similarity of the two pieces would amount to outright lifting. And although the number is dwarfed by "Stairway's" more than double run time, the comparison continues as a similar hard rock breakdown takes over at the song's midpoint, again akin to its classic ancestor. The only divergence between the two is Aurbach and Carney's version contains far less references to mythology and fantasy literature than Robert Plant's original lyrics.

Unfortunately, after such a strong quartet of numbers, the record's mid-section bottoms out. Among the triplet of "Money Maker," "Run Right Back" and "Sister," none are especially hard to listen to, but, conversely, none are all that captivating either. They're solid rock numbers, but not very distinguishable. It's not a moral sin for the album, but based on its earlier output, the cuts are a bit disappointing, most likely due to the absence of the keyboards, organs and backing vocals that defined the initial offerings.

But do stick around for the latter third of the compilation. "Hell Of A Season" regains a bit of the swagger, which fully returns on another Motown-grounded groove in "Stop, Stop," hinting at faint resemblances to Stevie Wonder's "Uptight (Everything's Alright)" in its jangly chorus. Meanwhile, "Nova Baby" is the album's most joyous contribution, with the return of The Clash guitar slash and a pogo stick bounce in the chorus. Closer "Mind Eraser" ends the affair with a bit of Doors-style psychedelia, but doesn't overdo it at only 3:15.  

Come for: "Lonely Boy"
Stay for: "Dead and Gone"
You'll be surprised by: "Stop, Stop"

Jonathan Coulton

It can be tempting to brand material from a newer band or artist that is similar in style to a more established act as derivative or unoriginal. And sometimes such criticisms are valid. Anyone who knows my tastes in music is aware of my less than enthusiastic stance on Coldplay as a less-interesting version of Radiohead. But often, acts for whom a large portion of their sound is influenced by a certain predecessor, the outcome can be a fresh take on a well-worn approach, and add new spins and directions to it. This is the case with New York, N.Y.-based singer-songwriter Jonathan Coulton and his They Might Be Giants (TMBG)-patterned veneer on his eighth studio recording, Artificial Heart, released independently by Coulton on November 8.  

The TMBG (NMT) influence should come as no surprise here, given that TMBG co-frontman John Flansbaugh produced the record. While Coulton previously released seven full-length albums, most were recorded without a band and in Coulton's home studios. Flansbaugh's involvement allowed Coulton to utilize studio musicians – many of whom have worked with TMBG and TMBG-related efforts in the past – in a professional space. The collection's whopping 18 tracks also include several guest vocal appearances, from John Roderick on "Nemesis," Suzanne Vega (of "Tom's Diner" fame) on "Now I Am an Arsonist" and Sara Quinn of the Canadian twin sister duo Tegan and Sara on "Still Alive." The added resources help bolster Coulton's already-stellar songwriting talents, and the studio band in particular provides some welcome punch across the record.

While Coulton bases his constructions largely around TMBG's trademark blend of clever and catchy – and his vocal phrasing is primarily a reflection of Flansbaugh's TMBG partner, John Linnell – he introduces outside flavors ranging from the smooth Americana polish of Jackson Browne to more punk-tinged crunch in a The Kinks or Ted Leo vein. These more diverse backgrounds broaden Coulton's work from only TMBG regurgitation to a more distinctive portfolio. Of course, you wouldn't not it immediately, as leadoff track "Sticking It to Myself" saunters in with the familiar saxophone root common in so many TMBG tracks over the years, and Linnell-style vocals from Coulton, although with a touch more power pop fuel than the Johns usually offer. Still, it's hooky and well-crafted – a great introduction for new listeners. At the same time, the following "Artificial Heart" is quirky and aloof at first, then bright and boastful at the chorus – another tried and true TMBG staple, although the keyboards are more straight-up piano sound than the farfisa organs preferred by Linnell.



"Nemesis" – featuring lead vocals from Roderick instead of Coulton – first introduces the more Americana tendencies cultivated by more classic rock forerunners like Jackson Browne and Warren Zevon. The acoustic and electric guitars form the track's core here, and while the song's title reads like a Star Trek reference, Coulton's lyrics are a bit more straightforward here. It sounds more like something you might expect off an early-era Barenaked Ladies record like Maybe You Should Drive, with Roderick and Coulton complementing each other like the Canadian popsters co-frontman duo of Ed Robertson and now-former member Steven Page (NMT). The distinctiveness continues on "The World Belongs to You" with its heavy mandolin foundation, akin to multiple NMT-profilees Farewell Drifters (NMT, NMT). The bluegrass ditty is unlike anything TMBG has ever attempted.

Following the somber, but coyly witty "Today With Your Wife" – which plays like a Ben Folds (NMT) meets Fountains of Wayne (NMT) ballad – "Sucker Punch" is the album's best, with its heavy power-pop crunch and catchy chorus blazing through the cut's short 1:44 run time, like TMBG's own "Can't Keep Johnny Down" off their recent album, Join Us (NMT). Sure, I'd like a bit more, but it's too fun to get hung up on the brevity.

Later on, "Alone at Home" is a minimalist punk-flavored cruncher – again, short like "Sucker Punch" – while the baroque-themed "Fraud" is sparse and plunky with just Coulton's acoustic guitar. Meanwhile, the humorous "Good Morning Tucson" recalls fellow NMT-profilee Butch Walker's similarly smart "Trash Day" and, after all, who can't chuckle at a verse like, "when I was coming up I got the donuts, which means I got the donuts that I wanted / There was no young punk to steal my jelly-glazed, and I am still sort of amazed that you can be born in the nineties."

Suzanne Vega's pleasant alto pairs well with Coulton on the retrained and earnest "Now I Am an Arsonist," while Sara Quinn brings welcome vocal brightness to the music box-like "Still Alive," although I'm not much of a fan of the track's nearly minute-long warbly intro.

Of course, over the course of 18 tracks, they can't all be can't misses. While the concept of "Je Suis Rick Springfield" is intriguing, the french lyrics don't convey the funny as effectively as his humor is deployed elsewhere. Likewise, "Nobody Loves You Like Me" is a decent musical idea, but is a little too droning for my taste. And elsewhere, you get the sense Coulton's instinct is to retreat to a solo singer-songwriter, which he's perfectly competent at on cuts like "Down Today" and "Want You Gone," but they're not as compelling as his work highlighted above. The same is true for numbers like "Glasses" and "Dissolve," more rocking variants of their guy-and-his-guitar counterparts. But "The Stache" does close the collection on a clever note, with its account of high-school age posturing, again pointing back to Flansbaugh's influence.

Come for: "Sucker Punch"
Stay for: "Good Morning Tucson"
You'll be surprised by: "Today With Your Wife"

P.S. Coulton appeared on the audiobook version of John Hodgman's, The Areas of My Expertise, a fantastic collection of interesting, odd and potentially fictional factoids from the actor best known as the PC Guy in Apple's ads earlier this decade. Coulton provided acoustic guitar backing and interludes, as well as a few off-the-cuff comments. Also, completing the Coulton-Hodgman-TMBG association triangle, Hodgman has appeared in a series of short videos for the band's Venue Songs collection.

GROUPLOVE

 Since this post is already more than three days late, we'll skip the clever/verbose lede and dive right into the review of another spirited, multi-gender outfit that prioritizes energy and enthusiasm in the form of Los Angeles-based quintet, GROUPLOVE, and their debut release, Never Trust a Happy Song – out this past September 13 on Atlantic Records.

You may already be a bit unintentionally aware of the band via their track "Colours," which has appeared in a widely-appearing Chevy commercial and leadoff single "Tongue Tied" promoting Apple's iPod touch. Sure, the mid-90s version of your blogger would have derided such abject commercialism, and would have pointed out that acts like R.E.M. and Pearl Jam would would sooner be caught dead then overtly endorse any product or service. But times have changed with music acquisition nearly exclusively occurring online (legally or otherwise) via the massive decline in record stores, radio stations featuring new music and a bastardized MTV who refuses to air any music videos. Accordingly, bands – especially young bands – need to aggressively promote themselves in as many venues as possible, and mainstream commercials are just one avenue.

Regardless, both tracks featured in the product promos are catchy and representative samples of the group's work on the record. The former is mid-tempo and a touch sludgy, but hooky enough to lure new audiences. Featuring the nasally wail of primary lead vocalist and guitarist Christian Zucconi and solid background vocals from keyboardist Hannah Hooper, it blends Weezer (NMT)-style chorus crunch with looping verses. Its counterpart in "Tongue Tied" is even catchier, with a carefree party grove built around the same bouncy rhythm that anchored the Smashing Pumpkins' iconic "1979" with the blitzing jocularity of contemporary acts like Los Campesinos! (NMT), The Givers (NMT) and Library Voices (NMT). The only fear with the latter track is the risk of it caroming off the cliff into the ravine of dance pop, only one remix away from stocking the playlists of dance clubs everywhere.

Elsewhere, the album's dozen tracks largely feature upbeat and enjoyable pop rock, with a few exceptions. The reggae sway of "Lovely Cup" breezes along with a delightful lightness and "Spun" is both the record's finest cut and one that should earn a spot on any collection of road anthems, alongside highway soundtrack tracks from artists like The Eagles, Jackson Browne and Fleetwood Mac. It might actually be best suited in a pairing with modern road anthems like The Arcade Fire's (NMT) "Keep the Car Running," the Great Lakes Myth Society's "Across the Bridge" and Hey Rosetta's (NMT) "Seeds," especially with Zucconi's lead-in mandolin trading-off nicely with guitarist Andrew Wessen's sturdy electric parts. Deeper tracks like the beach party tribute "Naked Kids" and the harder rockabilly romp of "Chloe" fit well with the record's lighthearted vibe.

But the band is a little less successful on a few other efforts here. While opener "Itchin' on a Photograph" is a fine tune on its own right, Zucconi's vocal range seems to get the best of him, as he spends the better part of the track screeching to a level that could be labeled as unmusical. Meanwhile, Hooper's first taste of leadoff vocals on "Slow" aren't the finest introduction to her talents. Not that her singing isn't adequate here, but rather the song's concept is so dull (as its title might suggest) that her debut is rather ho-hum. It sounds as it could have served as the prime example of the Eurythmics' forays into the depths of the avant garde.  Fortunately, she gets another shot on "Love Will Save Your Soul," and delivers on the slightly bluesy number. Later on, Zucconi uses his distinct nasal delivery to better advantage on "Cruel and Beautiful World," harnessing it more like Rural Alberta Advantage's (NMT) Nils Edenloff, especially with its blend of rusty acoustic guitars and scratch rhythm section backing from bassist Sean Gadd and drummer Ryan Rabin.

Come for: "Tongue Tied"
Stay for: "Spun"
You'll be surprised by: "Lonely Cup"

Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds

Since it's just days before the holiday season begins – and because your blogger is pretty busy presently – this post will be an exercise in brevity. But a short post is better than no post. Plus, much of the backstory on this week's artist – former oasis songwriter, guitarist and part-time lead vocalist Noel Gallagher – was already taken care of in my review of his brother Liam's post-oasis project, Beady Eye. So, if you're looking for my thoughts on all things oasis and Gallagher brothers, head there. Here, we'll focus on Noel's competing project, Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds. His debut album of the same title was released on November 8 on Noel's own Sour Mash Records.

After the demise of oasis, my initial expectation was that Liam and his mates in Beady Eye would have a tough time songwriting without Noel's creative force, and that Noel would emerge with a steady effort, building on his two decades of songwriting for oasis. I was only half correct. Beady Eye defied all expectations, and delivered a well-constructed, ambitious debut outing on Different Gear, Still Speeding last March. Meanwhile, Noel has responded predictably with his High Flying Birds, turning out a solid, consistent 10-track product infused with his trademark Beatles-style constructions, some heady orchestral arrangements and professional-quality musicianship. But, it's also not terribly exciting.

Noel always benefited from the better pure singing voice of the two brothers; a smoother, more balanced counterpoint to Liam's rusty nails sneer. And he exploits that talent well here, hitting and sustaining higher notes beyond Liam's range and routinely employing his well-honed falsetto. This is apparent as soon as the opener, "Everybody's on the Run," with Gallagher shepherding the tune's soaring chorus, and benefiting from sturdy drumming from session percussionist Jeremy Stacey. Gallagher always demanded solid, but unspectacular work from his drummers in oasis, and he finds a willing partner in Stacey throughout the record. He also effectively deploys a mix of horns and strings across the album, boosting the complexity of his songwriting, especially on the album's closer, "Stop the Clocks" – apparently a would-be oasis number than never left the studio over a decade, according to Gallagher.

The problem with the collection, though, emerges quickly: the tracks are nearly all indistinguishable from each other, one mid-tempo cut to the next. This isn't to say that any are bad on their own; in fact, not a single track is a must-skip. They're all carefully structured, well-executed pieces of pop-rock, and several are a step above, such as leadoff single, "If I Had A Gun" and the catchy chorus of "Dream On." And if the Gallagher's acoustic guitar progression on the former of these sounds familiar, you're right: it's nearly the same as oasis flagship number, "Wonderwall." 

But the pace on all of them is largely identical, not moving too fast or too slow. Some variation in tempo and intensity would be welcome. There is a bit more pep on a couple of numbers, though: the optimistic "AKA...What A Life" and it's fluttering counterpart, "AKA...Broken Arrow." But neither hardly qualifies as a barn-burner, and it's hard to believe Gallagher no longer has the more upbeat stuff in him, considering high-energy oasis tracks spanning that band's catalogue, from the early "Supersonic" to the more recent "The Shock of the Lightning." And perhaps his forthcoming full-album collaboration with Amorphous Androgynous – expected in early 2012 – might boost the intensity level. But in the battle between the Gallagher brothers as to who could produce the more interesting material without the other, the victor is surprisingly Liam.

Come for: "If I Had A Gun"
Stay for: "Dream On"
You'll be surprised by: "AKA...What A Life"

Los Campesinos!

When I was younger, I was often perplexed when listening to performers from the non-American English-speaking world as to why the accents (or lack of accents, depending on your perspective) so prevalent in their speaking voice nearly always vanished when singing. From the Beatles to Elton John and on to U2, there seemed to be little distinctiveness of their respective deliveries from their American counterparts (by American, I mean North American, as Canadian accents are only just slightly different from those in the states). Of course, there are been exceptions. The punk movement stressed authenticity, and artists reaching as far back is Ray Davies in The Kinks to Johnny Rotten's Sex Pistols and Joe Strummer's The Clash all emphasized their British roots far more than their predecessors. Later, the frontmen in alternative-era acts like oasis, Blur and – to a far less lasting degree, The Proclaimers – mildly stressed their homelands' vocal uniqueness, although their peers in Radiohead, Bush and Coldplay could hardly be spotted as brashy Brits on a first listen. Conversely, some American vocalists – namely Green Day's Billy Joe Armstrong and The Killers' Brandon Flowers – chose to adopt a pseudo-British sneer to fit their sound.

As this to say that when you come across an artist or band featuring more identifiable accents in song, it's noticeable. And such is the case with the Cardiff, Wales-based septuplet, Los Campesinos! and their duly British-sounding primary vocalist, Gareth Campesinos! (the band goes Ramones-style, adopting Campesinos! surnames for all its members; campesinos itself means peasants in spanish). From the outset, it's clear you're encountering a group from Her Majesty's empire. Gareth's punk-infused snarl harks back to influences like Davies, Rotten and Strummer, and is fitting for the group's hard-charging demeanor. But, in contrast with the band's punk-tinged Romance is Boring – their third full-length release in 2010 – their new 10-track collection, Hello Sadness (out today on Wichita Recordings) blends the punk sneer of its predecessor with the more bright and boastful pop collective approach of their first two records, Hold on Now, Youngster... and We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed, both released in 2008 on the same label.

This combination of styles – the post-punk power found in outfits like Tokyo Police Club (NMT) and We Were Promised Jetpacks (NMT) with the big, poppy multi-gender collectives like the Arcade Fire (NMT), the recently-on-hiatus Broken Social Scene and the Givers (NMT) – breeds an offspring that's both lively and edgy, and allows a coterie of sonic habits to trickle in, not only from their aforementioned peers, but hints of U2, The Hold Steady (NMT), The Cure, Weezer (NMT) and more. The album's dawning track, "By Your Hand," points most directly to the latter set, with its boisterous chorus and hand claps suggesting a communal vibe, and the tawdry details of Gareth's verses much in keeping with tracks like The Givers' "Up Up Up" and Library Voices' (NMT) "If Raymond Carver Were Born in the 90's." Gareth – who's also the band's glockenspieler (glockenspielist? glockenspielmeister? I've longed for the opportunity of such a quandary in this space!) – allows plenty of room for the rest of the band to shine here, especially back-up vocalist and keyboardist Kim (Gareth's sister), bassist Ellen and guitarists Neil and Rob.

Meanwhile, the following "Songs About Your Girlfriends" – while still sufficiently poppy – lands closer to the post-punk tradition, with its its clenching guitar intro setting up Gareth's gnarly lyrics and the track racing across its 3:18 of runtime. But it doesn't stray far from the Arcade Fire-style group sing-alongs found on the opener, either. Next up, the record's title track is a bit more restrained and moody – a nod to their Cure influences – but features some nice violin contributions from now-former member Harriet (who amicably left the band this September to continue her education) and builds to a swirling zenith later on.

In "Life is a Long Time," the band arrives at it its closest counterpart to the Arcade Fire's most recent offering, The Suburbs, as if Win Butler and crew contributed a lost track meant to fall between "We Used to Wait" and "Sprawl 1 (Flatland)." Gareth's tale of disillusionment mirrors Butler's description of suburban malaise, in lyrics like:

Over time they build up the city / And our arguments show it all /
Every ring road, every motorway / Displayed in crease and wrinkle

and

You know it starts pretty rough / And ends up even worse / And what goes on in-between / I try to keep it out of my thoughts

The post-punk vibe returns on "Every Defeat A Divorce (Three Lions)," with its less exuberant tone and featured keyboards from Kim echoing a similar use on Tokyo Police Club's Champ collection. Interestingly, the cut contains a reference to ABBA's "Waterloo," with Gareth slightly reworking lyrics that song's chorus prelude to, "and how could I ever refuse? I feel like I loose when I loose." After the slow-moving ballad, "Hate for the Island," the group delivers the record's most shimmering track, the U2-flavored "The Black Bird, The Dark Slope." Guitarists Neil and Rob are at their pinnacle here, with their The Edge-like minimalism providing an emboldening lift. Moreover, the split vocals between Gareth and Kim are a welcome change of pace, although I wish Kim had been utilized more on this record, in keeping with the band's greater use of smoother female voices to balance out Gareth snarly foundation (Kim succeeded her predecessor Aleksandra on back-up vocals and keyboards in 2009, after Aleksandra also left on good terms to pursue studies). I always prefer bands with shared lead vocals, and even more so when they're split between girls and guys.

Like "Hate for the Island," "To Tundra" is largely a plodding affair, although it very gradually builds some steam and benefits from some greater conviction near its conclusion. The slower stuff continues on the concluding pair of numbers, with "Baby, I Got the Death Rattle" and "Light Leaves, Dark Sees Pt. II" easing the effort on a more restrained note. However, the former isn't far from a slower version of The Hold Steady's "Sequestered in Memphis" in its second half, with Gareth reprising Craig Finn's call-and-response chorus alternating "headstones" and "headboards" much like Finn's "Texas" and "Memphis."

Come for: "By Your Hand"
Stay for: "Songs About Your Girlfriend"
You'll be surprised by: "The Black Bird, The Dark Slope"

The Decemberists – Long Live the King

(I had fully intended to post on schedule the previous two Tuesdays, however, technical difficulties involving my email machine had prevented me from actually listening to the new music slated for review. Now, with fully computing power restored, this is my best attempt to catch up, which explains for coverage of only an EP-length release)

Often, when you hear artists or bands describe a recent studio session, and boast how they had written and worked on boatloads of new material, but most of it never made the final release of 10 or 12 tracks. Now, surely, there were fragments of songs that didn't quite pan out, and others that needed more cultivation, possibly to re-appear on a still later record (next week's profilee, Noel Gallagher, includes a track on is first solo album that he claims was in the works as an oasis tune for more than a decade, but never released). Regardless, it would be nice to have a chance to hear some of that discarded material left on the cutting room floor, especially from bands or artists who routinely turn out top-notch material, but take longer breaks between new releases. This is exactly the sort of desire fulfilled by one of this blog's favorite acts, The Decemberists, with their recently-released EP, Long Live the King; a half-length compendium to the full LP, The King is Dead, which came out early this year and reviewed by us here.

Of course, the flip side to my advocacy for the release of studio hold-backs is that sometimes when they do emerge, it's a load of fluff – shoddy acoustic demos, fly-by-night covers and other uninspired fare. One recalls the b-side material box set of the Smashing Pumpkins' Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness concept album as particularly trivial (although both "Medellia of the Grey Skies" and "Aeroplane Flies High (Turns Left, Looks Right)" were solid cuts). In other words, there's good reason the band chose to leave them off initially. But, fortunately for us, this is not the case with the six tracks of Long Live the King (itself more than half the number of tracks found on the original source material).

The connection between the two records is explicit, from the medieval monarchical phrase that represents the title of both collections to their alt-country overtones. Why chief songwriter and frontman Colin Meloy and his mates declined their inclusion on the full-length album is uncertain, but most could have been slotted among the rest without dampening the quality or context of The King is Dead – in fact, they would have likely only added to it.

Opener "E. Watson" is a somber, acoustic graveyard lament from Meloy, dedicated to the title character. Although The King is Dead certainly featured much of Meloy's trademark quirky intellectualism, what it lacked was the more intricate narratives that defined much of the band's work prior to that album. Here, the nuanced and interesting real-life tale of Edgar Watson – one of Florida's first pioneers – is the sort of output many longtime fans of the group have come to expect. Meloy's lyricism here is at it's finest, as witnessed in the second verse:

Watson had it in from the beginning
He built that house on Chatham Bend
A white-washed knotted pine
Ninety acres furrowed for the cane
And he drove it down from Georgia
His dad a martyred soldier
In the war between the states

Meloy is one of the few contemporary songwriters who possesses the talents to push his listeners' intellectual capacity – along with Okkervil River's Will Shelf – and he should be encouraged to continue. But The King is Dead seemed to be a slim retreat from that mission, and my review of that record noted that shift. In a track like "E. Watson," those fears may be allayed.

Moreover, when paired with "Burying Davy" two tracks later, the numbers could have been pulled from the pages of the morose, but fascinating Spoon River Anthology collection of poems by Edgar Lee Master (another Edgar!), where the accounts of those who passed away in some small hamlet are far more interesting than those who remain. The tracks link back to The King is Dead through the exemplary backing vocals of Laura Veirs (who also previously contributed guest vocals to "Yankee Bayonet" off the Crane Wife record) and Annalisa Tornfelt, who mirror the fine work done by Gillian Welch on the previous effort.

Meloy's macabre stories are balanced by the more meatier, alt-country duo of "Foregone" and the band's cover of The Grateful Dead's "Row Jimmy." The former is easily this record's strongest offering, with it's tangy Gram Parsons vibe and honey-laced steel guitar by guitarist Chris Funk buoying Meloy's pangs of regret, which he dubs "the reach and the wrecks and the wrong." It melds nicely with the Dead cover, which replaces the original's blues sketch with a more robust roots foundation and a more subtle bridge part via pianist and organist Jenny Conlee (who's currently recovering from successful cancer treatment after being largely unable to participate in the band's tour this spring and summer).

The one that doesn't fit here as neatly is "I 4 U & U 4 Me." Just judging by the title, it would, at best, seem to be an odd Prince rarity, or at worst, the latest garbled vomit by whichever boy band is reuniting at the time. Instead, it's delightfully closer to the Violent Femmes or The Pogues (both of which Meloy has noted as influences on the band), with its galloping acoustic parts from Meloy and Funk contrasting with bassist Nate Query's sludgy acoustic bass and drummer John Moen's stiff snare. Even though it's listed as a demo version – and the production sounds just a bit unrefined – that's alright considering the tune's upbeat and unpolished ethos.

Rounding out the collection's half-dozen tracks the understated "Sonnet." Although it begins as a somewhat vanilla Meloy ballad, the addition of the full band and horns just before the number's midpoint enlivens the melody and ends the proceedings on an upturn. Sounds like the perfect place to leave things until next time...

Come for: "E. Watson"
Stay for: "Foregone"
You'll be surprised by: "I 4 U & U 4 Me"

Library Voices

There's a pretty simple formula for what gets me going for a new band or artist: catchy, clever tunes; interesting instruments and concepts; nail your vocal harmonies, and don't be stingy with them; bigger bands are always preferred, especially those with mixed gender compositions; Canadians and Scots move to the head of the class; horns and pianos are always welcome, but not required. Line-up some or most of these, and you have a happy blogger. And I'm pretty happy this week with the discovery of the Canadian indie pop-rock octet, Library Voices, and their sophomore release, Summer of Lust, out October 18 on Dine Alone Records.

The Regina, Saskatchewan-based group – which tacks closest to New Music Tuesdays'(NMT) favorites, The New Pornographers – is the second positively startling find from that province this year, following the boogie rockers The Sheepdogs (NMT) from nearby Saskatoon. Here, extremely hooky pop confections are mixed with clever lyricism and a big sound befitting the band's sizable roster. And it begins with the album's finest stuff, the leadoff "If Raymond Carver Was Born In The '90s." This is the rarest of rare, folks: pure pop-rock majesty that is indelibly catchy with surprising depth, as multi-instrumentalist frontman Carl Johnson (and what is it with Canadian indie pop bands being fronted by guys named Carl?) explores the increasingly adult status of his age group while he hides behind songs he's not even sure are that good. Don't worry, Carl: this one passes the test – and then some – and should buy you a few more years before true adulthood comes calling.

What follows across the record's remaining nine tracks – not including a brief intro and outro voiced by some unknown Brit – does not fully match the shimmering punch of "If Raymond Carver...", but is nonetheless chock full of peppy and smart pop-rock cuts. The springy surf rock of "Generation Handclap" – the album's first single – could have easily been submitted by fellow Canucks The Arcade Fire (NMT), with Johnson veering towards Win Butler-style choral anthems and the bulk of the ensemble matching The Arcade Fire's energy and tempo step for step. And the more laidback vibe of "Reluctant Readers Make Reluctant Lovers" slides in between Canadian indie rock proginators, Sloan, and their American counterparts, Fountains of Wayne (NMT). The tune might also rank a very respectable second in the Best Canadian Litany of Authors Recording by Duo or Group category, following only the brilliant "My Baby Loves a Bunch of Authors" by the now (sadly) disbanded Moxy Fruvous.

Johnson utilizes his and his compatriots' instrumental talents largely to feed the overall sound, rather than focus on many individual solos or highlights, again reflecting an approach effective for A.C. Newman's Pornographers or Buther's Arcade Fire. The sole exception is the saxaphone work from Paul Gutheil, who injects snippets of jazz flavor or Clarence Clemons power depending on the song's mood. And drummer Michael Thievin is crucial in keeping the unit charged to churn out the hooks and harmonies that make the whole thing go. But harder to peg are the roles of Johnson, guitarist/keyboardist Brennan Ross and synthesizer wizards Michael Dawson and Amanda Scandrett in rounding out the sound. Now and then, there might just be a touch too much synthesizer (I'd prefer an actual piano on occasion), and a wall of horns could add some beef elsewhere, but it's nothing to get in a twist over.

The collective approach is most noticeable through the record's midsection, the trio of tracks comprised of "Que Sera Sarah," "Traveller's Digest" and "Be My Juliette Greco, Paris 1949." All are outstanding pop-rock jems, with the former starting out restrained before grabbing a meaty chorus hook and coyly referencing Dorris Day's 1956 hit of similar title. The middle of these is the album's second bona fide can't-miss – following "If Raymond Carver..." – with a plucky rhythm you might hear in a 10,000 number like "Stockton Gala Days" and, surprise, another catchy chorus. Meanwhile, the latter blisters along like the best of Fountains of Wayne, with Johnson sharing Fountains frontman Chris Collingwood's penchant for witty contemporary social commentary.

The record's concluding quartet rounds out the effort solidly, and each deserves mention. "The Prime Minister's Daughter" takes on Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper's absurd quote that "ordinary people don't care about art" in the face of government cutbacks to art programs by imagining Harper's daughter, Rachel, someday falling for one of the artists her father hung out to dry. "Me, Myself and ID" might be the least interesting idea here, with its fuzzy intro and armchair psychology, but doesn't automatically warrant a pass-through. The group tries a little ska on "Anthem for a New Canadia," and largely succeeds, with Thievin and bassist Eoin Hickey-Cameron laying down a nice '50s-era rock groove. And the concluding "Regina, I Don't Want to Fight" wraps things up where countless others throughout literature and music have: the recurring battle with one's hometown, and Johnson does a nice job of doing just that while sticking to their indie pop veneer, never an easy chore.

Come for: "If Raymond Carver Was Born In The '90s"
Stay for: "Traveller's Digest"
You'll be surprised by: "Anthem for a New Canadia"

P.S. Here's a good behind-the-scenes look at the group recording Summer of Lust, the sort of thing you'd expect from a bunch of nice, young Canadian kids.