The Party Playlist as a Moral Obligation

Image: Spotify

It’s 11 PM, and I’m at a party in a small apartment in Newport Beach, California. So far, the night is perfectly enjoyable: everyone has become socially lubricated, jokes are being cracked, the shindig is progressing without a hitch. That is, until I begin to hear what I am sure is the same song that played not 20 minutes ago. At first, I wasn’t sure if this had been intentional. Maybe someone felt the need to hear the track one more time because “This is my jam!” or just for good measure. This seemed unlikely, however, seeing as music was being streamed from a phone, which remained in the host’s pocket. More likely, he had put on Pandora or some Spotify playlist on shuffle and was letting it play, inevitably leading to repetition. Whatever the case, it was clear that this host had not and was not selecting the music.

What song I cannot for the life of me remember (the details of the night are a bit hazy). What I do remember is turning to my girlfriend and remarking “This song was played twice,” expecting some form of concurring nod or at least look in her eyes that said “I know, darling, what philistines.” Instead, she gave me that blank stare I often receive when I’m perturbed about something that no one else seems give a damn about in the slightest.

Luckily, I had the social sense not to make a big deal about it at the party. Nonetheless, this incident, along with a few similar musical faux pas, compelled me to type a few lines in promotion of the self-curated playlist.

Why does the party playlist matter?

When you’re getting ready for a party, what do you do? Assuming the people coming over are people you care about, you probably clean the apartment, empty the dish rack, and dust (if you’re like me, for the first time in months). Maybe you do some decorating — hang some old christmas lights or whatever. You think about food choices: is this a snack affair or a dinner party? Will we be making late night spaghetti? Will there be guac (that's rhetorical, obviously there should always be guac).

Why do you do these things? Well, because they set the stage for the party. You’re creating a space, hopefully, that is conducive to an enjoyable night. For me personally, the musical ambience of a party is perhaps the most critical aspect of any rendezvous. Music sets the tone and guides the trajectory the mood. It’s like the rudder of a skiff: you may not be explicitly aware of it, but it is always steering you one way or another.

Whether you are having club banger or dinner and game night, what music is underwriting the evening will nearly always be a significant factor in the success of the party. You have to get people moving, spark conversation, bring out nostalgia, etc. Anyone who has been to a party without a background music playlist, or worse yet, a terrible one, knows that it’s an awkward and unpleasant experience. The conversation dulls, people begin to look into their phones, it’s like a sail boat without wind — dead in the water (last nautical metaphor, I promise). You need music in order to demonstrate how people should feel and what they should do.

Sure, but does that mean I need to curate the playlist myself?

“Curated Playlists” are all the buzz right now. Spotify, Apple Music, 8Tracks all these services offer playlists to meet any number of situations or moods: “Pre-Party R&B Jams,” “Magical Wanderlust,” and, my personal favorite, “i don’t even know anymore” (yes, the “i” was intentionally done that way), just to name just a few. One wonders if we will ever have to pick another song ourselves again.

This is not the beginning of a rant about Spotify playlists. I listen to them all the time and have discovered lots of wonderful music through them (and we at Transverso even occasionally offer up our own). Instead, the point is that settling for one of those playlists for a party is low-hanging fruit. You can do better.

When you are going to have people over to your home, you ought to take the time to craft your musical ambience.
The reason is one of identity and investment. Whether you like it or not, your music choices represent who you are. This may seem like a rather grandiose statement, but I mean it with complete sincerity. Your music choices matter because they are representative of your taste, and in turn, your character. When I hear a playlist that someone has made, I feel like I’m gaining insight into who they are. They’re showing me what they like and what moves them, and you can’t really get more personal then that.

More importantly, curating your own playlist shows your investment in your friends. Selecting songs for a playlist takes immense love and care. You must studiously assess the goals for the evening (cerebral discourse, sloppy dance floor make-outs, spirit animal discovery, etc.) and the company who will be attending (e.g. can you get away with a deep cut from The Books or will that make everyone uncomfortable in a bad way?). When you hand select your songs, you’re doing it for the benefit of your friends. It shows that you understand them, that you remember what it is they like, and that you care about their happiness. It also gives you the opportunity to share a part yourself with your friends through the music you’ve been listening to. The playlist is an unspoken conversation between you and your guests. Make it articulate. Make it authentic.

This may feel like a lot of hard work and pressure to be putting one aspect of the evening, but your effort will always payoff. Trust me, there is nothing quite as satisfying as noticing one of your party guests looking over toward the speakers, tuning-in, and wandering over to the laptop to discover whose playing.

Should I feel bad about myself now?

Look, we’ve all been in a pinch where people are coming over unexpectedly and we need something quick. I’m as guilty as anyone. You shouldn’t feel like plebeian because you didn’t self-curate the playlist. My argument is simply that spending time self-selecting songs, especially in a culture where more and more is curated for us, can mean a great deal. So when you decide to throw a party in advance, invest the time to pick and sequence your songs. Your party and its guests will thank you for it.

Margaret Glaspy Gets Straight to the Point on 'Emotions and Math'

Whatever your opinion of Bonnaroo 2016’s headlining lineup may be, you would be hard-pressed to find another festival that managed to book a stronger mid-level and breaking artists tier (the last breath of Superfly before Live Nation twisted its heel into Superfly’s throat), at least when considering other festivals of similar ilk. Without getting caught up in the divisive Live Nation booking practices, seeing bands like Whitney, Sunflower Bean, Luke Bell, Sun Club, Hinds, Bully, and Vulfpeck command (and steal) their respective Bonnaroo stages made for many a watershed moment in each band’s career.

While the aforementioned bands were formidable (and even exceptional) in their sets, there was one such set that had a particularly monumental moment, and that was Margaret Glaspy’s Saturday showing on the Who Stage.

For whatever (unfair) reason people want to place Margaret Glaspy’s music into the “folk-rocker” chick channel - as if such an unintelligible blanket statement equates for due diligence – because she’s seemingly unassuming when not on stage or whatever other closed minded pigeon-holed logic might arise. But that’s simply not the case, as exhibited on her debut LP, Emotions and Math, Glaspy’s cerebral songwriting and meditative-yet-managed stage presence place her in a channel that’s wonderfully indeterminate and unfettered, apart from the increasingly tired roots-revival tropism ascribed to any young woman that happens to play guitar.

Emotions and Math is an excellent debut for any artist, but through the lens of Glaspy, it exemplifies her intercourse between personal discourse and a wellspring of feeling and intuition; there are no wax poetic musings to be found on Emotions and Math. The eponymous album opener recalls associative assurance from a former lover of some sort. In a sense, it explores the periodic moments of borderline co-dependency within a relationship. It features feminist idealism while highlighting incongruous feelings of relational dependence.

One of the early points of contention featured in the record is misunderstanding, a common talking point in most indie-music, sure, but Glaspy manages to provide an aggressive and dismissive demeanor on tracks like “Situation” stating “Call me a rebel / Call me a renegade / Whatever fits the mould you’ve made,” while her guitar work bares tonal depth in creating an air confused tension. Admittedly, it's tough to immediately compare Glaspy’s “sound” and spirit to any other established artist – which is something to aspire toward as an artist, in my opinion – though songs like “Somebody to Anybody” and “Memory Street” recall occasional cadences of Cat Power and bellowing labelmates Alabama Shakes' guitar tones. She’s in good company, but it isn’t a total reverential imitation of influences, a practice that seems to be more and more common amongst the “indie” star(let) crowd.

There are tracks like “Pins and Needles” that manage to meld both Glaspy’s blues and rock opining sensibilities with the existential and relational crises of indie-music – “I don’t want to be on pins and needles around you of all people” – simultaneously developing a unique sense of Glaspy-ness. Then you have songs like “Anthony” that feel like a hardened Regina Spektor track (I realize this could be argued as a contradiction in the previous paragraph, but allow me to explain further) – it narrates an absent reciprocation from the aforementioned “Anthony” as Glaspy prays for the admiration and love of Anthony, only to come up short. It’s a theme all too common amongst many a finicky couple – continuing to stay together when feelings and compassion have so obviously run their respective courses. It's almost like Glaspy’s version of Kanye’s Amber Rose call-out on The Life of Pablo – “She said I took the best years of her life.”

Emotions and Math closes with a decidedly brooding tonality that acts as a slight divergence from the light(ish) feel of the rest of the record. “Love Like This” is arguably the strongest track on the record, examining a former romance that was unceremoniously tossed to the wayside, leaving Glaspy left to her own devices, while her guitar work is at its strongest, with a dark tango feel that flirts with positivity, but almost always maintaining a perpetual sense of “Saudade.” Emotions and Math’s closer is the record’s bluesiest track on the record – which seems fitting for a song titled “Black and Blue” – that highlights a slight sense of narrative neuroticism brought about lifelong misconceptions (aka “black is blue”), thus cementing a full-circle moment in Glaspy’s early career – the thought that a seemingly quiet artist could bring about such unabashed and insightful commentary on typical narrative tomes. With a strong full-length debut like Glaspy’s, it will be likely that her presence will quickly shift from the close-mindedness of those expecting a soft-cooing songstress into the proper ascription worthy of Glaspy’s ability.

Phantogram Announce Third LP, 'Three,' Drop Single "You Don't Get Me High Anymore"

Amidst their #FestivalKillers summer circuit with Big Boi, Phantogram have dropped some much-hinted-at music of their own. Following 2014's fantastic Voices and last year's self-titled EP as Big Grams, the upstate New Yorkers have released "You Don't Get Me High Anymore," the lead single from their forthcoming third LP due out this September, Three.

Sarah Barthel's breathless vocals dance over Josh Carter's heavy, fuzzed-out beats in a way that implants the flashing lights of their live show directly into your head at first listen alone. As Barthel told Pitchfork, Three's conception was steeped in loss, from that of Bowie to Prince, and even her own sister who tragically passed in January, and the lyrics reflect that through restless angst: "Walk with me to the end / Stare with me into the abyss / Do you feel like letting go? / I wonder how far down it is."

Check out the track and tour dates below, and revisit our review of Big Grams EP here.

http://www.youdontgetmehigh.com 6.16.16 #III See all Phantogram tour dates at: http://republicrec.co/PhantogramTour Follow Phantogram on: Facebook: http://bit.ly/PhantoFacebook Twitter: http://bit.ly/PhantoTwitter Instagram: http://bit.ly/PhantoInstagram Spotify: http://bit.ly/PhantoSpotify YouTube: http://bit.ly/PhantoYouTube SoundCloud: http://bit.ly/PhantoSoundcloud Tumblr: http://bit.ly/PhantoTumblr

Mitski Comes Into Her Own On 'Puberty 2'

Maturity is a tricky concept. We talk about it as if it’s some elusive nirvana attainable only through a vague combination of time and experience, but in reality the path to maturity is a long, twisted clusterfuck that you don’t even realize you’ve been following until you look at where you were the year before and realize how much you’ve changed… or how much you haven’t. As New York singer-songwriter Mitski Miwayaki puts it in her song "Crack Baby," it’s “a long, hard 20-year summer vacation.”

In this sense, Mitski’s fourth album Puberty 2 is her most “mature” to date – not an Ariana-in-leather-bunny-ears declaration of adulthood, but rather a weary demonstration of the hard-earned emotional clarity that comes from years of trying and failing to Figure It Out. She has channeled the raw emotional overload of her modern classic Bury Me At Makeout Creek into a more lush, expansive sound without losing an ounce of its gut-punch intensity.

Puberty 2 covers a broad emotional spectrum, but it is primarily defined by a longing for recognition and acceptance, even as it understands how fleeting these may be. “Dan the Dancer” and “Your Best American Girl” tell two very different stories of outsiders yearning to be understood, while “Fireworks” finds Mitski struggling to reconcile grief within her daily routine: “I will go jogging routinely, calmly and rhythmically run / And when I find that a knife’s sticking out of my side / I’ll pull it out without questioning why.” Intense blasts of emotion arrive unexpectedly – deep infatuation on “A Loving Feeling,” detached disappointment on “A Burning Hill,” and high anxiety on the contained punk rager “My Body’s Made Of Crushed Little Stars,” which sprints through Mitski’s inner monologue as she fantasizes about blowing a job interview and plotting her own disappearance. But these songs are over before you can begin to make sense of them, creating an experience as unpredictable as our own emotional cycle.

While Mitski’s expertly crafted lyrics masterfully reflect our own fickle feelings, her compositions are more confident than ever. The SUNY Purchase-trained composer and her co-producer Patrick Hyland find the perfect middle ground between the elaborate arrangements of her first two albums and the urgent garage frenzy of Bury Me At Makeout Creek. The panic-attack guitars on “My Body’s Made…” bleed into the dreamy synth globs of “Thursday Girl,” while the industrial clatter of “Happy” simultaneously recalls St. Vincent and political punks Downtown Boys.

Yet it’s impossible to listen to Puberty 2 and hear it as anything but a product of Mitski’s singular vision. Her turns of phrase provide a connective tissue for its disparate themes, and her affecting voice adapts to every new sound. She has come into her own as a writer, producer and performer, with a presence so commanding it sells every line like a short story. The genius of Puberty 2 lies in Mitski’s ability to turn this emotional whirlwind into a personal, cohesive statement. After all, there’s nothing more mature than knowing yourself.

EXCLUSIVE PREMIERE: TÂNZI Create "Imaginary Sounds" on Debut Single

Feeling restrained by the traditional rock band setup, Los Angeles natives Hypnotic Hyena (Samuel Duffey) and Chris Jaxon (Chris Jackson) joined forces to start a project where they have total control. Named after Jaxon’s sister’s first name and his mother’s maiden name, TÂNZI has become a pop rock duo with heavy electronic influence, and Transverso is proud to debut their first single, "Imaginary Sounds."

A steadily marching dance beat transforms into some sunny guitar work as the track opens with, "My love for you is driving on the freeway," a fitting metaphor for what undoubtedly makes a great summer driving song. Complete with an informational voice sample appropriately reminiscent of the secretary at the end of Pink Floyd's "Young Lust," "Imaginary Sounds" tells the story of an unsuccessful sexual encounter.

Jaxon tells Transverso, "'Imaginary Sounds' symbolizes our first step as true pop artists. It's the first thing we have written that we believe can be played on the radio, and that is something we are really proud of."

Check out "Imaginary Sounds below," and catch TÂNZI at LOVEFEST this August 5-7.

Peter Bjorn and John Reach Peak Pop Polish on 'Breakin' Point'

The wait for this one was so long we're not young folks anymore. Everyone’s favorite Swedish indie pop trio, Peter Bjorn and John, had been taunting fans with #PBJ7 social posts for much of the five years since Gimme Some gave us 300% of a normal thumbs-up in 2011, before finally releasing their 7th LP, Breakin’ Point, today. Delayed by growing families and a label shift as the band left Sony imprint Startime for their own Stockholm startup, INGRID, the wait has turned out, of course, to be worth it.

Breakin’ Point launches straight into things; you can already picture audiences clapping along as disco-tinged lament of working for The Man, ”Dominos,” sets off the "chain reaction" that launches into 12 tightly-packed tracks, all clocking in at 3:something or less (even “A Long Goodbye" doesn't reach four minutes) as if the triple-headed hammer on the cover itself cranked them out.

“It says, ‘We’re back! We’re smashing it!’” bassist Björn Yttling explains of the album art, which consists of, per tradition, three parts - one for each member. It's the affable Swedes’ most cartoonish and playful offering yet, which says a lot for the trio that gave us the undeniable whistler “Young Folks" among others, but their pop sensitivities, as radio-ready as they increasingly are for better or worse, lose little in the ways of heart. It needs to be “like ABBA,” Yttling says, and it’s clear they take the inspiration of their compatriots seriously; PB&J recorded Breakin’ Point in studios formerly used by ABBA, and have even jokingly claimed to be the classic group’s illegitimate sons.

PB&J first explored using outside producers on Gimme Some, but they’ve enlisted an entire star-studded roster of them this time around, including Paul Epworth (Paul McCartney, U2, Florence And The Machine), Patrick Berger (Robyn, Icona Pop), Greg Kurstin (Adele, Sia), Emile Haynie (Kanye West, FKA Twigs), Pontus Winnberg (Miike Snow) and Thom Monahan (Wild Nothing, Devendra Banhart). The band explored several evolutions following their well-deserved Writer’s Block breakthrough from Seaside Rock’s instrumentals, Living Thing’s minimalist electro-funk, and Gimme Some’s amped up guitar-driven power dynamics, and the newfound influence of big pop producers doesn’t go unfelt here as Breakin’ Point instead reaches for peak accessibility and polish.

Pre-order the new album "Breakin' Point" here: http://smarturl.it/BuyBreakinPoint or on iTunes here: http://smarturl.it/PBJDominosiTunes "Our first new rock video is here! Check out the awesome video makers from ANIED and their playful adaptation of the lyrics in "What you talking about?" Love Peter Bjorn and John 'What You Talking About?'

Long-term fans will attest it was PB&J’s endearing quirks that kept them around after some fantastic sync licensing first propelled their 2006 ubiquitous flagship tune to the world stage, however - the beautifully poignant epic of “Up Against The Wall,” the captivatingly juxtaposed aggression of “Lay It Down," the viciously enthralling hook of ”Amsterdam” (which has been this author’s ringtone for as long as he can remember) - and Breakin’ Point lacks any adventurous, next-level standout in that way, resulting in their most consistently medium tempo, homogenous effort in years.

That being said, PB&J do however succeed at what they (safely) do attempt; the frantic skitter and plink of “What You Talking About?” proves they still know exactly what they’re saying, and they're slick while they do it. Their iconic, cheerful whistling notably returns in the title track and “Nostalgic Intellect,” (which “may seem like bigger news than it is, hey its only whistling,” the press release notes), with the former bolstering Peter Morén’s soaring vocals as they present a vulnerably honest attempt at finding courage for newfound fatherhood: “I saw it in Jesus / Saw it in Superman / Got it from whiskey / Like any loser can.”

“Do Si Do” drops a Beatles reference on its way to the dancefloor, while “Between The Lines” aptly concludes “It's hard to sing if your hearts not there.” The punchy cowbell in album highlight and closer “Pretty Dumb Pretty Lame” is far from either of those things as PB&J address the triviality and tension found in their own profession: “Well you complain in the press / You’ve been under a stress / Well every nine-to-fiver is stressed out for less / If you enjoy what you do / Don’t let it ruin you.” These glimpses of true self-awareness are a precious commodity in today’s pop, and it’s exactly that and their genuinely disarming disposition that has always set them apart from their pop rock peers, even at their most formulaic.

“There are very few songs in our collection that are positive. I can’t think of one,” Yttling admits, which may surprise casual listeners. “It's always been about the blues. Life is shit, but tonight is nice – that’s what pop is, especially the songs that we love. You wanna have some darkness to be able to see the light. That’s how we do it up here in Sweden! It’s like a black and white movie if you look out: snow and a black mass of darkness.” It’s may not always reach the depth of past works, but Breaking’ Point does its part to make that darkness abate, even if for only 41 minutes.

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Read our full-length interview with Peter Bjorn and John here.

Robert Ellis Gets Surreal on Self-Titled Third LP, 'Robert Ellis'

June 3, 2016 is one of the year’s most saturated release dates so far; a conflicting conundrum for those who look to listen to any of the exceptional (and not so - sorry Train) releases: Paul Simon, The Strokes, Whitney, Michael Kiwanuka, Tegan and Sara, The Kills, William Tyler all on the same day. One such artist whose newest release deserves the attention and praise his excellent album would garner on any less release-heavy date is none other than Brooklyn-by-Nashville-by-Austin songwriter Robert Ellis.

Much like his revolving door of homesteads, Ellis is not confined by a singular genre – though it could be argued all roads lead back to country music in one way or another – as he mixes strains of jazz, pop, and western music into dulcet guitar sounds layered over his wavering country timbre that resembles a surrealist Willie Nelson. Despite the country tonalities in his music, Ellis’ third full-length record, Robert Ellis, explores musical avenues that past efforts Photographs (2011) and The Light From the Chemical Plant (2014) chose not to venture upon.

His newest, eponymous effort opens with “Perfect Strangers,” a song exploring the inter-relational dynamics (or lack there of) of busy New York City sidewalks and subways, inevitably influence by Ellis’ fairly recent move to Gotham. The song features playful pop piano (a far cry from the saloon style player pianos of The Light From the Chemical Plant), which coincides wonderfully with Ellis’ cheeky lyrical observations – “On a crowded city sidewalk buying hotdogs / Standing awkwardly together” and “Because everything looks better in low lighting” – with the occasional country slide guitar creeping into the song.   

Not to undermine the emotional depth of Ellis’ previous two full length releases, but there’s an intelligible sense of remorse and yearning on Robert Ellis that feels considerably more connective than on The Lights from the Chemical Plant (let’s take a moment to appreciate just how excellent that album title is). “How I Love You” and “California” explore two opposite ends of the relational spectrum – “How I Love You” acting as the vibrant ode to a lover, and “California” chronicling an underappreciated lover tempted to trek to the west coast. The composition on “California” is an interesting combination of Ellis’ excellent jazz guitar work melded with sentimental lounge keyboards with intermittent hyper-produced tones and 808s – a new territory for Ellis that ultimately makes “California” one of his largest and most evocative tracks to date.

There’s a dichotomy between “California” and it succeeding track, “Amanda Jane,” a story of commitment built over a country-tango, and all of a sudden, we’re in “classic” Robert Ellis territory. The narrative of multiple men trying to “fix” the mysterious Amanda Jane combined with the nylon string meandering and lush slide guitar licks make “Amanda Jane” an early favorite on Robert Ellis. The next few tracks on the album return to Ellis’ Nashville-by-Austin roots with the classic country honky-tonk beat of the apathetic anthem “Drivin,’” into the western ballad that is “The High Road” – a falsetto laden lament of indifference and morality (and my personal favorite), featuring heavy orchestral composition that packs a fun wallop of self-loathing - before jumping into “Elephant,” an allegorical parallel to isolationism that revolves around the popular (and tired) Pachyderm turn of phrase. Despite the initially cliché lyrical basis, Ellis manages to present the idea in a tone that is wholly more intelligent than most. Then there’s the fact that Ellis’ finger picking is second to none on all three tracks – Ellis is often left out of most modern guitarist debates, which is more than a crying shame – which is Ellis’ strongest security blanket while exploring different lyrical approaches and unfamiliar tonalities.

In Ellis’ quest to find different sounds on Robert Ellis, “You’re Not the One” serves as his rock orchestra, with abounding strings integrated with the country-fantasm keys and guitar. In certain portions, the emotional emphasis gets a little muddled – is Ellis letting go of a current lover or opining on a former lover whose memory persists – either way, the robust composition makes “You’re Not the One” Ellis’ most inspired effort on his eponymous record. All that to be said, “You’re Not the One’s” intrepid approach is almost subverted by the totally departure from anything expected from Ellis’ catalog, as “Screw” sees Ellis go sans-vocals in order to create a Sufjan-meets-Reznor soundscape of pensive and conflicting guitar tones that warp and entangle an emotionally vibrant record.

Following the equally confusing and exciting “Screw,” Ellis returns to the same playful nature that he began to establish in the early third of the album on “Couples Skate” – a silly setting for an endearing narrative of love and relational engagement – it’s a little cheesy, but clever enough to be the perfect “first date” montage song for any rom-com or three camera sitcom you can think of.

Robert Ellis closes with “It’s Not Ok,” the album’s longest and most speculative and demure track, as Ellis reiterates and extends the ideals presented in “The High Road” and “You’re Not the One” but are entirely more visceral when you realize Ellis is putting none other than himself on blast – “It's not ok that I hide in the words of a song.” It’s the final stoic anthem of a mysterious and alluring personality in music, as Robert Ellis manages to take an artist many had pegged as a “new school of old school country” a la Sturgill Simpson, Margo Price, or Nikki Lane and fully turn such a notion upon its head. While Ellis doesn’t necessarily establish a fully realized narrative or sonic heading on Robert Ellis, he does manage to extend his staying power as a musically mercurial artist with a definitive approach and sensibility. Where many would likely prefer for Ellis to try and solidify his standing as a stalwart of “new” country, you can’t help but admire the strong work Ellis puts forward on Robert Ellis to maintain his own surreal path, away from whatever is considered “en vogue.” 

Whitney Shuns Buzz Band Banality on 'Light Upon the Lake'

No band in the history of everything has managed to avoid “death” in the sense that all bands – from The Beatles to your favorite local proto-punk-neo-folk-soul group – break up for one reason or another, with varying degrees of adversity and dramaticism. Obviously, The Beatles disbanded in 1970, but weren’t “definitively” broken up until Mark David Chapman read Catcher in the Rye in December of 1980, and as far your favorite local proto-punk-neo-folk-soul group is concerned, their drummer Keith was promoted to the late shift manager at Starbucks, so he won’t be able to practice most evenings, and proto-punk-neo-folk-soul drummers are at a premium in Des Moines. But silly comparisons aside, band breakups are rarely ever a joyous occurrence – tensions run high, bridges are burned, and once-hopeful fans are left with a finite discography.

So, when a particularly “buzzy” band such as Smith Westerns calls it a quits, the resulting career uncertainty for the former members can become increasingly unsettling to the devout follower. Fortunately, the legacy that follows Smith Westerns’ end looks to be far more promising than whatever outlook the original group may have had. Former front-man Cullen Omori made his way over to Sub Pop and released his solid solo debut with New Misery in March, and now, former Smith Westerns drummer Julien Ehrlich (who also had a stint in Unknown Mortal Orchestra) and guitarist Max Kackacek have banded together to form Whitney, and release a wonderfully jangly 70s-revival debut record, Light Upon the Lake.

Light Upon the Lake begins with a stellar album opener in “No Woman,” a seemingly mawkish entrance that meanders aimlessly as Ehrlich’s soft-cooing vocals opine about waking up in Los Angeles and experiencing an indefinite and tiresome change. Kackacek’s deceptively smooth '70s Martin-esque riffs eventually lead the track in a decidedly more confident direction, with a cacophony of horns closing out the introductory track. The succeeding tracks on Light Upon the Lake see an uptick in tone and vibrancy as “The Falls” feels like a mix of Vulfpeck percussive piano playful nudging Ehrlich’s lyrical musings on losing control, leading into “Golden Days,” the wax poetic (and indie rock right of passage) chronicling of some relationship passed (can’t help but think there might be some Smith Westerns undertones) – “It’s a shame we can’t get it together now.”

Where many might try and incorporate aspects of past projects into their current one, Whitney does a fantastic of presenting a definite tone and substantive grip of who Whitney is, namely in the band’s consistent use of horns, bouncing piano, and clean Martin riffs deftly maneuvered by Kackacek – especially on the album’s eponymous standout, “Light Upon the Lake.” The overall feel of Light Upon the Lake could be likened to The Band meets UMO with flecks of Vulfpeck and Blake Mills – in short, its wholly unique. The album features a number of punk sensibilities when it comes to lyrical verisimilitude and general brevity – the three song stretch of “No Matter Where I Go,” “On My Own,” and “Red Moon” runs a whopping 5:38 – with “On My Own” into “Red Moon” being the most impressive track pairing of the bunch, primarily for the excellent showcasing of horns mixed with Kackacek’s ever-tasteful licks. All in all, the two strongest aspects of Light Upon the Lake are Kackacek’s guitar expertise and the incorporation of harmonious brass work – making the record distinctly modern but also managing to hearken back to a softer time in rock music.

Light On the Lake closes out as sweetly and satisfyingly as it opened, with the uber-funk fuzz of “Polly” marking it as best track on the album, a soft cooing-ballad that has features undertones of disenchanted realism under the guise of happy rhythms and horns. The album closes with “Follow” - the sonic sibling of “Polly” – setting Light On the Lake’s with as positive an outlook as any debut featuring lyrics like “I know I’ll hear the call any time…” that lend credence to the visionary nature of Light On the Lake as a whole. “Follow” allows the record to help establish Whitney as more than just another buzz band, but rather a supremely melancholic (but not miserable) introduction steeped with perspective that maintains an ultimately warm purview of the band’s future. Expect to see Light Upon the Lake on many a "year end" list, including Transverso's, as the record exemplifies the ideal dulcet tones of an indie band debut.  

The Avalanches Announce New Album, Release First Track in 16 Years, "Frankie Sinatra"

As we approach the 16th anniversary of The Avalanches’ classic debut Since I Left You, the Australian group has finally announced the release date of their impending second album, Wildflower, on Zane Lowe’s Beats 1 show. The record will be released on July 8 via XL Recordings and features a slew of collaborators including Father John Misty, Toro y Moi and Biz Markie. Along with the announcement and the group’s first major interview since falling off the map after Since I Left You’s release, the group also dropped the first single, the delightful “Frankie Sinatra,” complete with a hallucinogenic music video.  

The track, built around a sample from Wilmoth Houdini's “Bobby Sox Idol,” is a bit less dense and layered than some of the debut records’ more famous jams. Instead, the focus is put on the two featured MCs: Danny Brown and MF Doom. Brown especially delivers two spirited, humorous verses that flows effortlessly over the quirky, strange beat. If this first sample is an indication of the group’s direction on Wildflower, we’re in for a treat.

of Montreal Announce New Album 'Innocence Reaches,' Hear First Single "it's different for girls"

of Montreal has debuted new single "it's different for girls" on Zane Lowe’s Beats 1 show and announced new album Innocence Reaches will follow-up last year's Aureate Gloom on August 12 via Polyvinyl.

Right off the bat it's clear the (American) Athenian psychedelic darlings have re-enlisted frontman Kevin Barnes' brother David for the art direction, with this newest kaleidoscopic offering exploring the “wonderment for the female anatomy." The track itself also harkens back to a more pre-Lousy With Sylvianbriar glittery sound and bears at least a passing resemblance to label-mates STRFKR.

According to Kevin, the forthcoming tunes are indeed more inspired by his contemporary peers than past work,

“Forever I’ve been detached from current music. I got into this bubble of only being in some other time period. I came up picking apart the Beach Boys, the Beatles, and symphonic pieces. But last year, I was hearing Jack Ü, Chairlift, Arca, and others, thinking about low end and sound collage. It was an extra layer to geek out on.”

At least one other song from Innocence Reaches has been performed live already as well. Listen to "it's different for girls" and check out the full album art and (all lowercase) tracklist below.

"it's different for girls" appears on of Montreal's full-length album, Innocence Reaches, available August 12, 2016. Pre-order 2xLP/CD/cassette/digital: http://plyvnyl.co/innocencereaches

Innocence Reaches

1. let’s relate
2. it’s different for girls
3. gratuitous abysses
4. my fair lady
5. les chants de maldoror
6. a sport and a pastime
7. ambassador bridge
8. def pacts
9. chaos arpeggiating
10. nursing slopes
11. trashed exes
12. chap pilot

Read our in-depth interview with of Montreal here.