That's My Dad. |
Whenever I believe something is fantastic by any means, I instinctively subtitle it as "That's My Dad", since dads are a given synonym for fantastic. Albeit not every father is great, on this website we'll live in our fantasies where everyone's dad goes fishing with you, takes you to strip clubs, concerts and manages to impress your friends with his 96' Impala. That's My Dad: A collection of all things considered, neglected and popularized. |
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Two Door Cinema Club - Beacon
Is it just me or does preppy non-american indie pop suck this year? (It’s probably just me, I might be a mere asshole) But much in the vein of dismally lackluster sophomore slumps this year from groups like The Temper Trap and Foals, Two Door Cinema Club enters the ring with an equal dose of painfully droll rock compositions, ideas and lyricism that suffices the ear as much as a napkin holds as a paperweight. Nothing offered on a record like “Beacon” could ever suffice even for the likes of contemporary pop junkies, it’s just that weak. (4/10)
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Young the Giant - Young the Giant
To be perfectly honest, I’m a little too young to be a full-fledged music snob. At my age (being that I am 17), there can sometimes be room for contrived rock music. Sure, it might only be good for background music or for your run-of-the-mill, adolescent “indie” soundtrack. And yes, no matter how hard you try, this record this devoid of any true personality. Yet, criticizing a band like Young the Giant would be the social equivalent of punching a stranger who compliments your outfit in the face. Young the Giant is a pleasant, straight-forward indie rock routine that doesn’t necessarily go outside the box, but resonates with an indulgent and theatrical level of emotion. Upon every listen, lead singer Sameer Gadhia charms us over with captivating hooks and choruses. I can’t despise Young the Giant for standing by its basic rock elements because the end result something like a box of Fruit Loops: bad for you, yet hopelessly enjoyable. (8/10)
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Follow us! Entertainment review blog: That’s My Dad
Tumblr: http://itwascoolandfunny.tumblr.com/
Twitter: @itsmydad
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M83’s Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming -
M83 is normally known for enjoyable and accessible ambient electronic pop among indie and mainstream fans. With M83’s new release Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming, that fact that been thrown to the curb, hard. This is a massive emotional and sonic journey spanning a double album to the point where it feels like the equivalent of The Who’s ”Tommy” in 2011’s indie rock scene setting. The incredibly admirable of this album is its insurmountable amount of free range and change in sound. This thing changes up the genre and progresses with such confidence and poise that it gives Arcade Fire’s “The Suburbs” a run for its money, in that respect. M83 may have released a bold and dramatic album, but by no means outdo much of anything. Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming, in all its braveness, results as an impersonal album that tries to relate to a massive crowd on a close, intimate level and fails to do so. Despite its overall hit-or-miss reputation spanning 22 songs, Hurry Up We’re Dreaming is an epic, albeit flawed, that’s still worth a go. (7/10)
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You chew gum. It tastes nice. You spit it out. That’s all.
For a sound that allows itself such a comfortable sonic range between the positivity of pop and the textured density of experimental electronic, these guys kept it really shallow. There are so many tools in front of these folks, yet, not a finger is lifted; leaving scraps of forgettable noise. Just like the contemporary nature of a piece of gum, Foster the People can’t be enjoyed longer then the lifespan of a Juicy Fruit. An ode to unsuccessful pop.
Foster the People seem to have rose from zero to hero out of thin air. Led by Mark Foster, this team of newcomers emerged from a brief and nearly invisible independent phase and sold out faster than you could sell hot cakes. They’re a handsome band that followed suit with the whole electro-pop formula that’s proved undeniably successful in recent years with the likes of Passion Pit, MGMT and Phoenix; but somebody always has to come along and fuck up a good thing, don’t they?
Foster’s contribution to current electro-pop are worth checking out for shits and giggles. Torches is one of those blistering waste of space albums that accentuates on its primary hit singles with more production value and attention; disregarding all other room for art in the process. Foster the People invent a messy electronic atmosphere and allow a mist of sexiness to emerge through their sound that basically creates all the weight of their appeal. This is undeniably well executed on tracks like Pumped Up Kicks and to an extent, Helena Beat. What really gets me is how this style disintegrates into a fine dust on every other track, leaving a slew of oddly produced and cheap sounding songs.
Regardless of preference, the weak and near desperate efforts of newcomer Foster the People won’t be resonating through anybody’s ears nor should they.
This album is that absolute stranger you dance with at a party, then ditch three minutes later.
