Reverb-laden vocals on the austere title track set a tone to match the doom and gloom associated with The Stills’ debut, but just when you think The Capitol Years has gone all Interpol, the band rips down the shroud to show you their shrine.
One of Nashville’s favorite sons, Bobby Bare Jr. has done it again. Pulling a who’s who of indie rock and roll together, the Young Criminal’s Starvation League churned out a bright album with The Longest Meow. Eleven musicians including Jim James, Patrick Hallahan, Carl Broemel all of My Morning Jacket, crafted the eleven track album in just eleven hours at Nashville’s Ocean Way Studios.
On their debut album No Midnight, Birdmonster has succeeded in producing a work that ought to please fans of generic indie rock – while not particularly challenging them.
The latest offering from acclaimed British singer-songwriter Thea Gilmore isn’t that far of a departure from her Avalanche or Songs From The Gutter releases – full of quality songs and equally high levels of musicianship.
He is a legend, he is Scratch and he is The Upsetter. But he's also self-indulgent to a fault on his latest offering.
Beck takes one of his biggest risks with this latest effort, but he often sounds bored and un-inspired, forcing many songs to crying for guitar. This should have been released as a ten song ringer, instead The Information suffers from “dud overload.”
Vocal dramatics are the essence of Shearwater's forurth album, Palo Santo, with vocalist and multi-instrumentalist Jonathan Meiburg consistently exposing a forever-fluctuating line between kitten purr and banshee wail.
If Cormic McCarthy’s end-of-the-world novel The Road is made into a film before the world actually does end, this album by The Thermals should constitute the soundtrack.
Eleven tracks, each one a number (“Nine,” “Sixteen,” “Fifteen Parts 1 & 2”), none of it sequential, none of it essential.
It’s peculiar that The Hold Steady are considered “indie”, considering there’s no whiney “Mountain Goats/Decemberists/Shins” thing going on. Upon listening to Boys and Girls in America, you’re almost bound to ask “ what Springsteen album is this?” And throw Boys and Girls in any roadhouse bar, and a toothless trucker with a mullet will ask for another round.
