STACK Mar #137

80 / 99

Once Gareth Liddiard decided to
emancipate himself from the
traditions of his instrument – which
he asserts were choking him – the
inherent weirdo qualities of his
interest in sound slid free, just like
this album’s title. While most effects
are curated around the pedals and
filters of thick electric guitar, the
rhythms are pugilistic and the sonic
details tiny and odd like a centipede
THE DRONES
FEELIN KINDA FREE
There’s much to be said about a band
that will cheerfully rhyme “Genghis
Khan” with “get it on”, and not all of it
pertains to English as a second language.
Swedish-American electro-pop trio Miike
Snow will chase a feel-good hook beyond
the pale and back again with whatever their neighbour left on the
verge, whether it’s an old hip-hop beat, a Stax soul horn sample
or Charli XCX in full schoolgirl pout (that’s her feat.ing, as she
does, on For U). As hitmakers for the likes of Britney, Kylie and
Madonna, Christian Karlsson, Pontus Winnberg and Andrew Wyatt
know what they’re doing all too well. The candy coating drips so
thick that substance is barely missed as they expertly balance
falsetto soul, mechanised grooves and a toy shop full of vari-sped
and otherwise craftily treated gimmicks into a toddler’s delight of
plastic goodness and cooing suggestion. Lead single The Heart of
Me bleeps it up for the fluoro kids, I Feel The Weight drags like a
stoner’s neurons and Genghis Khan has a nutty video. This stuff
ain’t built to make history but as a reflection in the virtual mall
windows of the 2016 pop market, it sure is real.
(Atlantic) Michael Dwyer
MIIKE SNOW iii
in a jar; you’ve got the plucked
strings and mosquito swarms
of Boredom , the aerial whine in
Tailwind that accompanies slow,
deep electronic beats and something
that sounds like a glass windchime
on a very still night, and the almost
revolting beauty of seven-minute
opener Private Execution – it offers
a kind of emotion sickness that is so
exquisite. To Think That I Once Loved
STACK Picks
Taman Shud, To Think
That I Once Loved You,
Shut Down SETI
You may receive a slight existential jolt
when you see a recent photograph
of the Violent Femmes, yet in their new
studio album We Can Do Anything, the
boys display that their maturing age hasn’t
reduced their sense of adolescent fixation
over love, life and slaying dragons.
The ten-track release (and
the band’s first full-length in
15 years) draws from lead
singer-songwriter Gordon
Gano’s collection of old
journals and cassette tapes.
Along with this historic
influence comes the iconic
Femmes sound of loose
guitar strings slapping against splintered
wood, made famous by the first few
seconds of Blister in the Sun. Now 52
years old, Gano’s perpetually only-just-
broken singing voice is still able to capture
the cathartic moments before a good cry,
by closing the back of his throat and letting
out a howling gurgle. He’s aided in backing
vocals from fellow band founder Brian
Ritchie and Kevin Hearn of the Barenaked
Ladies, who sound like two goofballs
rushing to the defence of their bloodied
friend in a schoolyard fight.
Opening track Memory presents an
endearing investigation into nostalgic love,
evoking empty gaps and chipped paint
rather than some whimsical reverie. In the
album’s concluding song I’m Not Done we
hear an admission of mortality
and a rejection of slowing down
because of it. Together, these
two work as a sort of framing
device that encases the
album in a sleeve of man-child
wisdom. That doesn’t mean it’s
all philosophical meanderings.
In I Could Be Anything, we’re
pulled into the imaginative world of Bongo
the dragon slayer. The playfulness is
carried by an oom-pah marching band
rhythm that, along with the backing
vocals, creates a communal atmosphere
somewhere between a German beer hall
and a Boy Scout social held at your local
community centre. Full of slap-dancing
and fraternity, if you don’t like this album
you’ve grown up too far.
(Add It Up Productions/Universal) Eli Landes
VIOLENT FEMMES
WE CAN DO ANYTHING
visit MUSIC REVIEWS
08 MARCH 2016
MUSIC
You is a wheeling but utterly solid
lament that shows off Liddiard’s
voice in all of its agonising majesty.
Most tracks include bassist Fiona
Kitschin lending her breathy, elfin
responses to Liddiard’s acerbic tone.
Meanwhile, divisive as it may be, the
thumping Taman Shud stands out
to me as one of the best songs of
last year.
(Tropical Fuck Storm/MGM) Zoë Radas