The Voice Leisure team enjoys spreading the word on its favorite new albums. Unfortunately, we didn’t have that pleasure this summer, so here’s the best of what we missed:
Spoon, Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga, Merge Records
Much less avant-garde than its title would suggest, Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga is the snapshot of a band ready for its close-up: Britt Daniel and Company seem determined to enter the limelight by delivering some of their most crowd-pleasing pop anthems (“The Underdog,” “You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb”) and doing a damn good impression of their past selves (“Don’t Make Me a Target,” “Rhythm & Soul”). But it all ain’t that easy, baby. The Austin-based indie rockers still find time to dabble in minimalist piano work (“The Ghost of You Lingers”) and dive headfirst into heady dub (“Eddie’s Ragga”). A vast improvement over 2005’s Gimmie Fiction, Ga(x5) does what any loyal Spoon fan would ask for—experiment with new ideas while remaining true to the band’s core aesthetic.
—Traviss Cassidy
Kalabrese, Rumpelzirkus, Stattmusik
Rubbery bass slaps, acoustic-guitar scratches, funky horn blasts—they’re not exactly sounds you’d expect to ooze from a “house/techno” record, but Kalabrese (a.k.a. Sacha Winkler) isn’t much of a techno artist in the conventional sense. Instead of sparingly applying the sterile hues of chrome and silver that typically mark techno music, the Zürich native has stained his debut, Rumpelzirkus (“rumbling circus”), with a generous dollop of the human element. Electronic and organic sounds cohabitate to impressive effect: “Auf Dem Hof” morphs from its minimal-house beginnings into a soulful, horn-led anthem; guest vocalist Guillermo Sohrya whispers sweet nothings over bubbly ‘80s-synths on highlight “Hide.” Like The Field’s From Here We Go Sublime earlier this year, Rumpelzirkus excels at blurring the line between human and machine.
—T. C.
St. Vincent, Marry Me, Beggars Banquet Us
Almost any article you’ll read on St. Vincent (a.k.a. Annie Clark) will start by listing her credentials (axe work for both the Polyphonic Spree and Sufjan Steven’s touring band); after her debut Marry Me, she’ll need no such introduction. Clark is, to risk cliché, “the full package,” handling the lyrics, vocals, guitars, bass, piano, synths, drum programming and more. But while Clark’s swelling instrumentation impresses, the real pull of Marry Me is the lyricism. She brandishes her Morrissey-like penchant for razor-sharp quips and nimble turns of phrase on lines such as: “Love is just a bloodmatch to see who endures lash after lash with panache.” Marry Me is the type of record you’ll want to get cozy with, but stay on guard: According to “Paris Is Burning,” St. Vincent is ready to stick poison in your ear.
—T. C.
Various Artists, After Dark, Italians Do It Better
Italians are renowned for food, love and killing one another in inconspicuous ways, but Italo-disco isn’t something you read about in Fodor’s guide to Rome. It should be. After Dark compiles previously vinyl-only or unreleased tracks from some of Italy’s strongest disco and synth-pop artists. The best offerings come from Glass Candy, who rounds the edges of his beats with soft synth work, horns and a female vocalist with a voice sweet enough to rot your teeth (in a good way). The Chromatics contribute excellent tracks, most notably “In the City,” which innovatively counters unassuming soprano vocals and strings with a beat crafted from myriad synth punctuations. These tracks may be called “Italo-disco,” but these Italians ain’t no Village People.
—Chelsea Paige
James Blackshaw, The Cloud of Unknowing, Tompkins Square
James Blackshaw weaves guitar notes like fine silk thread to create the softest, most luxurious and polyphonic tapestry in recent memory. The pieces range in length from 3:56 to 15:04, but despite their duration—unimaginable outside of the classical or jazz world—Blackshaw’s musical silk slips through and envelops the listener, gently placing her in a trance. The five pieces may share the technique of creating fine musical fabric from guitar melodies, but one hardly feels that Blackshaw’s music has much to say when the album’s 42 minutes pass. That’s good though, for it retains its mystery for another listen.
—C. P.
