Secret Agent Men

Protomartyr – The Agent Intellect

Let’s talk about the darkness. No, not the band The Darkness (thought it is interesting just how irrelevant that band seems now, considering even at their peak they were embodying a kind of rock n’ roll that had been irrelevant for over a decade). I’m talking more about the kind of darkness that lies in the hearts of all men, and by extension lies at the heart of a band like Protomartyr, who released their second album in as many years about a month ago, which has been growing on me at a pretty rapid pace. Historically, I’ve found that artists that embrace darkness don’t usually do much for me, as I’ve still never really gotten into Joy Division though I’ve tried so many god damn times, while supposed geniuses like Nick Cave and Leonard Cohen just seem alright to me I guess. This Detroit band however, has a scrappiness and a kind of everyman anxiety that’s easy to rock out to, but also makes wallowing in darkness seem kind of fun (or as fun as you could expect wallowing in darkness to be).

I was hoping I could make it to at least the third paragraph before comparing Protomartyr to The National (because they really don’t sound that much like The National), but I feel like I have to do it. Maybe blame it on the fact that one of my first introductions to the band was seeing a video of Protomartyr’s performance at this year’s Pitchfork musical festival, where singer Joe Casey was sporting a three-piece suit while bellowing into a microphone, not unlike a more unkempt version of The National’s Matt Berninger. So because of that I’ve had a hard time looking at Protomartyr as anything other than a “garage rock National”, even if that seems like it’s short-changing a band as great as this one. Though at the same time, I can’t imagine I’d be as receptive to Protomartyr if it wasn’t for my undying National fandom, as they’re really the only band I’ve managed to love who also embrace the kind of typically unwanted darkness I was describing earlier.

But unlike The National, more often than not Protomartyr will let ‘er rip. Alex Leonard is a particularly great drummer for this kind of band, because he’ll use the whole drumkit in intricate and ferocious ways that fill in the gaps of whatever chiming dissonance the guitars will be laying down, in true post-punk fashion. Casey, on the other hand comes off as a kind of wonderfully drunken poet, spouting off random ideas about good and evil while being perfectly in time with the band one minute, and going off the rails at the other. And the fact of the matter is, he sounds like could go off the rails as much as he possibly wants, since this band (which has been playing together since 2008) are clearly a tight-knit and well-oiled machine — a machine built to fight off the darkness, but while also realizing that sometimes the darkness can be your greatest ally.

Favorite Tracks: “The Devil In His Youth”, “Cowards Starve”, “Dope Cloud”

Under Pressure

Brian Wilson – No Pier Pressure

The Beethoven of the beach, the poet of the summer, there are many honorary titles to which you could bestow upon the legendary Brian Wilson. An innovator in pop music and a beautiful soul, if not a tortured one, there will only ever be one Brian Wilson. In his long tenure with The Beach Boys, Wilson redefined the modern pop song. Songs didn’t have to just be about love anymore. They could be about God and man, or vibrations, they could be miniature symphonies blasting out of your dashboard. There were no rules, just music. But after so many years of writing and recording, not to mention a few nervous breakdowns, does Wilson still have a voice in today’s musical landscape? Let’s find out in my review of Wilson’s last album from earlier this year, No Pier Pressure.

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Crimson and Cliffs of Dover

Crimson Peak

I realized I forgot to review Crimson Peak. Well, technically I didn’t because I’m reviewing it right now. It’s not a difficult film to forget, which seemed to be the consensus at the box office. Guillermo del Toro is like Hollywood’s ghost. Some have heard of him, few have ever seen him (his films) and even fewer believe. I believe.

Few filmmakers are around today, making the kinds of stylish fantasy films with the amount of passion and detail as del Toro. Few filmmakers have as much fun. This is the man who made Pacific Rim, a $190 million excuse for a grown man to play with toys. Who wouldn’t want to play along? Yet soulless, boring movies like Transformers: Continental Drift are the “films” people see. Why does mainstream America avoid del Toro like the bubonic plague? Are his films too weird? Too gross? Not enough single dads with hot daughters? Maybe everyone is scared. No one likes to say they believe in ghosts, and yet many of us believe.

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Just Another Beach Band

Beach Slang – The Things We Do To Find People Who Feel Like Us

You ever feel obligated to like something, almost out of duty? Like there’s a movie or TV show or band that comes along, and seems to have all the attributes that you constantly find yourself searching for, to the point where it almost seems suspicious? Because this band Beach Slang certainly embodies the kind of all-out embrace of rock and roll and all of its healing powers as an escape from the crushing mundanity of everyday life that I tend to be looking for. And yet, maybe because I’m just a born skeptic (or maybe just an asshole), I couldn’t help but find myself being a bit skeptical about instantly embracing the relentlessly rocking The Things We Do To Find People Who Feel Like Us, which even its title feels like it’s pandering specifically to me (though it’s clearly trying to pander to all of us). But after listening pretty consistently to this album since Friday, I will say Beach Slang has won me over. This is a band that you either have to be all in or not with, and I’d be a fool not to be, since again, they know what a rock disciple like myself wants, and by golly do they deliver the goods.

This doesn’t necessarily makes sense, but another reason there was a fair amount of obligation for me to enjoy Beach Slang’s debut comes from the fact that my favorite music writer going, Steven Hyden, wrote his final piece for Grantland about Beach Slang before the venerable sports/pop culture site closed down last week (it will be sorely missed). In the piece (which was overwhelmingly positive), Hyden compared Beach Slang to modern rock warriors like The Hold Steady and Japandroids, while the band itself has admitted to a bit of a Replacements obsession, which is not hard to discern after listening to Beach Slang for a good 20 seconds or so. Since I know I’ve already gone over my own Replacements obsessions (and Hold Steady obsessions for that matter) on this blog enough already, I’ll spare you any of that nonsense. However, I will point out that Beach Slang’s similarities to Japandroids is more than welcome for yours truly, since that band’s 2012 album is probably still my favorite straight-up rock record of the decade so far. Yet it’s starting to become more and more doubtful that Japandroids will ever release a follow-up, so an epically celebratory record like The Things We Do more than fills that niche.

And yes, I do realize that just talking about the extent to which a certain band sounds like other bands is always a little lazy/reductive, but with Beach Slang it seems appropriate. Lead singer/songwriter James Alex imbues these songs with a kind of loving admiration and homage to his influences, with lyrical passages like “I feel most alive when I’m listening to every record that hits harder than the pain,” or “If rock and roll is dangerous, how come I feel so safe in it?” It’s that sincerity and need to connect with something bigger that keeps Beach Slang’s songs from sinking under the weight of their somewhat obvious influences, while the 41-year-old Alex’s status as a consummate underdog gives the band even more of an irascible charm. So there you go, Beach Slang. You’ve got me just as hooked on your record as the ones you grew up getting hooked on.

Favorite Tracks: “Bad Art & Weirdo Ideas”, “Too Late To Die Young”, “Hard Luck Kid”

Blank Your Ducky Cars

Beach House – Thank Your Lucky Stars

A month and a half ago, in his Depression Cherry review, Colin expressed a retiscence to submit to Beach House’s alluring ways. Their sound was consistent and unchanging, and their appeal only lasted him for as long as their latest album felt new. As if to answer Colin’s particular needs, Beach House then went out and made another album this year and got it out only a couple months after that last one. That’s really fast, probably too fast. I can’t speak for Colin, but Depression Cherry still feels really new to me. Did we need a new one so soon?

Probably not, Depression Cherry was really great. Releasing Thank Your Lucky Stars especially seems like an odd move because Beach House has been quite firm in stressing that it is not a companion piece or b-side collection. It’s simply another new album, they say. And that’s true, I don’t think you can play these back-to-back and gleam any greater meaning. Maybe you could do a crazy playlist of all the songs from both albums arranged by feel, that would be really cool. Maybe I’ll go do that next. But I guess I should tell you if I like this first.

The answer is of course I do. I’m a sucker for the Beach House. I wouldn’t put this one too high up on the list (Depression Cherry‘s still my preferred LP this year) but it still has that same ethereal, dream pop sound that I can’t get enough of and Colin can, apparently. I wish I had some incite into why some things resonate with some people more than others but I don’t. All I can tell you is that Thank Your Lucky Stars is a little more downbeat than their past few albums have been, but still quite beautiful. Lots of reverb and strategically placed wailing guitars. I’ll take as much of it as I can get.

Favorite Tracks: “All Your Yeahs,” “One Thing,” “Elegy to the Void”