Bonus Album Reviews
Adult Books
Running from the Blows (LOLLIPOP/BURGER)
A refreshing bit of beach gloom, Adult Books cast a hazy shadow from Los Angeles’ generally sunnier Burger and Lollipop records mecca. Perhaps it’s a reflection of the contrast between Adult Books’ New Wave sensibilities and their hometown scene, but the band can show a bit of a split personality, alternating between excellent post-punk and pretty-good garage rock. Luckily, the band’s New Wave strengths usually win out.
As a result, if the title track plays like a Wavves B-side, it is preceded by the absolute after-dark gem “Nihilism for Beginners.” This is the stuff that conjures celluloid dreams in the mind’s eye after watching too many David Lynch movies—the rhythm section chugs forward like an old convertible across a desert landscape, lead guitar side-winds its way across the sand, and a synth backdrop provides the earthen landscape or darkened sky flipped in photonegative.
Sometimes Jekyll and Hyde find common ground and work it out for a few minutes. “Suburban Girlfriend,” for instance, creates a nice balance between a bratty shout-along chorus and guitar breaks that split the difference between surf rock and The Cure. The lyrics here also reveal the band’s occasionally sardonic take on its surroundings, along with Los Angeles’ always-fashionable denizens ripe for perhaps too-easy picking on “Silver Lake Goths.”
Elsewhere, “Lobby Talks” shows Adult Books in a different mode altogether. Melodically bouncy and catchy for the first half, this is probably the fire starter live. Then it abruptly stops halfway and re-emerges as a noisy free-for-all with amp feedback and stereo-panning guitar as wide as the band’s varied influences. (www.adultbooksca.bandcamp.com)
By Ed McMenamin
AURORA
All My Demons Greeting Me as a Friend (GLASSNOTE)
There are few, fortunate artists able to tap into the magic of inter-webs adulation. Occasionally, there’s a musician who can follow through on the promise of a few early, universally-acclaimed singles and translate that to genuine stardom. Here, 19-year-old Norwegian singer Aurora Aksnes makes her musical argument for sustained relevance.
Both “Runaway” and “Running With the Wolves”—the breakthrough tracks previously found on her debut EP—reappear here, accompanied by a handful of strong but similar showcases for her beautiful, lilting vocals (i.e., “Winter Bird” and “Warrior”). Of note, however, are a few bits unlike anything else on the album, like the haunting piano and choral intro of “Murder Song,” and the playful, poppy “Conqueror.” It’s not the show-stopping LP some might seek after the strength of the singles, but All My Demons Greeting Me as a Friend is more than enough to convince us she’s a talent with more than two great songs in her. (www.aurora-music.com)
By Austin Trunick
Eric Bachmann
Eric Bachmann (MERGE)
Former Archers of Loaf and Crooked Fingers frontman, Eric Bachmann’s self-titled album is a personal, moving compilation about life and love with a slight Southern bent. The veteran indie musician has proclaimed his a “wandering lifestyle,” which the nine tracks on the album reflect. They are varied, introspective, and primed for repeat listening. (www.ericbachmann.com)
By Zach Hollwedel
The Coathangers
Nosebleed Weekend (SUICIDE SQUEEZE)
Ten years and five full-lengths in, The Coathangers play midsized clubs, but their snotty denim-punk would still feel at home in your city’s finest DIY basements and other assorted ne’er-do-well hangouts. Polished without losing all its edge, Nosebleed Weekend is another well-written collection with little flab, despite being the Atlanta trio’s longest LP to date. (www.thecoathangers.com)
By Ed McMenamin
John Congleton & The Nighty Night
Until the Horror Goes (FAT POSSUM)
The man behind the live-wire sexiness of St. Vincent’s sound, and a host of others, belts out his solo debut, Until the Horror Goes. Both vocally and conceptually, John Congleton hurls forth a paranoid alter ego from the subconscious that sounds like the nerdier cousin of Rivers Cuomo after getting his hands on some bad designer drug. Self-awareness and not taking it all too seriously saves this effort from absurdism, and with a few allowances made, the wonkily macabre production can bang your funny bone in places, while Congleton’s unbridled candor can be refreshingly amusing.
This wacky voyage leads with the frenetic onslaught of “Animal Rites,” a smasher they might be moshing to in 10 years, and continues to spill forward with a pent-up energy until the act wears thin. While the production sustains its vitality, Congleton’s narrow singing range—hidden in the more bizarre, cinematic numbers—gets exposed
