That's My Dad.

Tindersticks - The Something Rain

Progressive, minimalist jazz compositions are a galore on Tindersticks’ “The Something Rain,” a strong body of unique qualities. Opening with one of the greatest spoken-word/minimalist jazz tracks spanning nine minutes, “Chocolate,” the album takes a dive into the next eight tracks with an oft-kilter mix of maudlin and a barrage of instruments to follow suit. It’s not the finest piece of music of its kind, aside from the opener, but Tindersticks certainly deserve acclaim for their sheer level of musicianship; one of complicated proportions. (6/10) 

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The Men - Open Your Heart

Read My Full Review On ‘Listen Before You Buy’

[…] When push comes to shove, modern punk bands aren’t able to recall the original spirit of their own base genre.The Men live, embody and wear that spirit like a classy prep school jacket and this album is their prized pin badge.

(8/10)

Major Lazer - Guns Don’t Kill People…Lazers Do

A monumental, hyperactive work of reggae-fusion/dancehall guaranteed to serve whopping amounts of thrills and a plethora of sonic textures. (9/10)

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M. Ward - A Wasteland Companion  

Read My Full Review on ‘Listen Before You Buy’

[…] Matthew Ward, better known as M. Ward, better known as the quiet dude who plays behind Zooey Deschanel in She & Him, returns with his much-awaited seventh album: “A Wasteland Companion.” In the past few years, critical responses held a minor taint of lack-of-seriousness under the pretension of M. Ward’s stylistic and nostalgic indulgence. As a follow-up to previous release “Hold Time,” Ward re-examines certain qualities of his, yet refuses to interfere with his signature style. With a unique recording approach, having done “A Wasteland Companion” over eight studios around the world, along with a more detailed lyrical quality, M. Ward is out for a drive in the same old car looking for a new muse. […] 

(8/10)

The Shins - Port of Morrow

Five years after their previous release, The Shins finally return to satisfy the famished indie rockers travelling on the Shins-less desert. Their latest album, “Port of Morrow,” heads to higher horizons with bolder directions, previously unseen in the band’s repertoire.

James Mercer. James Mercer. James Mercer. He is the frontman of The Shins and frankly, receives an abundance of attention in comparison to the band itself. Even between the five years from the last album, “Wincing the Night Away,” Mercer kept a busy and ubiquitous presence without falling to shreds. With successful projects like Broken Bells between then and now, Mercer bringing back The Shins brought more attention than what their next album would actually sound like. With all this behind “Port of Morrow,” the album’s almost utilized as a solo album for Mercer, given the attention he receives on the record, and that’s not a bad thing. The Shins haven’t lost a drop of their honey as “Port of Morrow” may very well be their most earnest, nostalgic and ambitious release to date.

Opening with tracks “The Rifle’s Spiral” and “Simple Song”, there is an undeniable artistic pride coming from these guys letting us know loud and clear: they’re back. Both songs take their beloved pop elements from “Wincing the Night Away” and amplify it on an Arcade Fire anthemic scale, all while delivering a resonating youthfulness. “Port of Morrow” then lets the remaining eight tracks switch gears back and forth between emotionally and sonically reminiscencing of a yesteryear. A yesteryear filled with bittersweet tragedies which fuel the heart with a sadness too intimate to detach from. A yesteryear featuring ‘80s rock and pop tunes constantly playing on FM radio, based on classical melodies floating about the air from cruising California convertibles on a baby blue evening sky. These elements build the unique style and atmosphere Port of Morrow shows with pride. “No Way Down” and “Fall of ‘82” are so drenched in ‘80s rock nostalgia, it’s unprecedented. “For a Fool” and “September” hold an uncanny resemblance with Wilco’s experimental acoustic pieces, circa 1998. Sprinkle some simpler takes of experimental rock elements from past albums (“Oh, Inverted World”) on all these ideas and somewhere along the line, you’ll land on the gold mine Mercer builds his work on: a cavern of pleasantries and nirvana.

What The Shins feel, they release, and they do so with intricate emotional delivery and boastful confidence. It’s this notion that makes “Morrow” so successful: how effortlessly genuine and unpretentious everything feels. Let yourself fall down the rabbit hole, Port of Morrow is one of the year’s best joyful, cathartic trips.

This album was my dad. (8/10)

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Delhi Belly -

Aside from an unforgivable, dim-witted and lousy story structure blended with some spotty, tasteless humor, Delhi Belly is a devious dosage of realized post-modernism Bollywood watchers need; precisely the culture-busting type of movie Quentin Tarentino would make were he exiled to India. (6/10)

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The Help - 

A fascinating, engaging and unexpectedly masterful feminist tale and examination of 1960’s women’s dynamics and relationships, still relevant and well worth celebrating even today. (9/10) 

Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows - 

Following up an already flawed action film, “Sherlock Holmes,” “Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows” is an even more toned down take on the classic Arthur Conan Doyle series. The defining factor of fans and haters with this reboot is the artistic interpretation of these characters and the time era. Many enjoy the modern and hip spin director Guy Ritchie puts on Sherlock, yet many find it generic and historically demeaning as well. As part of the latter, I find that the modern action style doesn’t outweigh having authentic storytelling. The first Pirates of the Caribbean film had both in this same context, so it’s not impossible. With “A Game of Shadows,” there’s even less offered than the first. The charm has worn off slightly and so has the level of effort from the writers and actors. Aside from a few interesting action sequences, there isn’t anything here that covers up a shoddy story and a bland style. (4/10)

Sometimes we should remind ourselves of the romance found in misery.

Drake’s sophomore LP Take Care is a definitive album of love and sadness. If we start from the top, Take Care is near perfect. It’s an atmospheric, admirably honest and sexy album filled with songs that rank up as some of the year’s best. Take Care opens incredibly strong with tracks like Over My Dead Body, Shot for Me, Headlines and more sprinkled throughout the album (check out “Lord Knows”). It doesn’t take long, however, to find the album’s faults, of which there are quite a few.

I cannot call Take Care a filler album because, unlike Lil Wayne with his recent Tha Carter IV, Drake isn’t lazy or focused on making music for profits. Take Care is made with a consistent effort and a strict ethic of musicianship and it shows. Regardless of the end product’s quality, that is a factor that should never get neglected. Tracks like Make Me Proud and Buried Alive (Interlude) may get your your eyes rolling, but the atmosphere and attitude comes off just as strong. On a whole, Take Care could lose some weight. The LP spans 18 songs and near the length of a feature film. That’s the only true complaint this album deserves, but then again, Drake is used to taking his time and then releasing a big album.

Take Care has the caliber of standing the test of time, given that Drake can jump out of the realm of a contemporary artiste. It may come with some easily avoidable blemishes, but theres still much to enjoy.

This album could make for a cool sibling. (7/10)

St. Vincent is a shape-shifting monster, carved with pain and beauty, ready to invade your dreams and melt your conscience away.

It was love at first listen. Open from the track “Chloe in the Afternoon,” a weird and practically two-faced composition built off this clash of equally disgusting and gorgeous elements that would make Bjork proud. As the beautiful bipolarity exposes itself throughout the songs, you soon realize the madness awaiting. Even if exposed to St. Vincent’s colorful bizarreness, Strange Mercy is here to push your buttons.

In experimental rock, there is one hidden ingredient that guarantees definite success: style. This is something that St. Vincent’s Annie Clark always had a great grasp of, especially on Strange Mercy. One can play around with two-faced stylizations, putting two ideas and forcing them to clash in one song; it takes sheer craftsmanship to make it sound this damn stylish. Songs like Dilettante, Cruel and Cheerleader are constructed like fantastic short horror stories, managing to sweep you along a tame aesthetic and then stabbing you in the chest with sheer aggression; all within four minutes. Strange Mercy is an artistic testament to the idea that internal frustrations can be precisely expressed with control.

Another aspect of Strange Mercy that makes it stick out from many experimental rock records is how strikingly personal Clark can get on her songs. It’s hard enough to pull off quality an avant-garde album, even harder to concentrate it on your own feelings. Songs like Cheerleader and Surgeon feel like multi-layered cryptic letters let for all to read and for few to comprehend. She even puts herself, as a person, in the compositions; switching off from straining her voice to an emotional high and letting her guitar wail for her when she can’t anymore.

Strange Mercy is disturbingly good. St. Vincent brings out sexy and gothic, vulnerable and psychotic, classy and bizarre all at once. Every year always has an avant-garde gem in store. From Dirty Projectors, Janelle Monae and now, St. Vincent. Strange Mercy is my favorite experimental album of the year, without a single doubt.

This album was my dad. (5/5)