Lorde Adds Shimmer To The Shake With Disclosure's Help

To those waiting with bated breath for Lorde's next musical move take heart. She's brought electronica act Disclosure to help her titillate the audience. This jam goes on like a glitter suit topped with Lorde's woman on the edge presence. Disclosure consists of brothers Howard and Guy Lawrence who are careful to toss their pixie dust of aural enchantment around Lorde instead of suffocating her airspace. If you caught a glimpse of the video for "Magnets" I bet you weren't counting on the maniacal ending. Lorde has her issues to work through apparently. That swimming pool's going to need a refurbishing job. But, on with the review. The textures of "Magnets" match Lorde's panache perfectly. The arousal quotient goes high, higher, and highest. How does one "drink deep from a lie"? Only Lorde could give you a ready answer to that question. The woman's got that poetic license working in fifth gear. The brainchild behind "Royals" has this way of getting in your face without any quarter being given. That Disclosure's been called in to back light her romping in sensual shades of chartreuse only helps Lorde assume an even greater woman of mystery position. The percussion opening things up makes a banana daiquiri sound like the most natural thing in the world. Then come the synthesizers and we're off to the races. Lorde doesn't have to do anything other than project her passions for the camera to get tongues wagging. There's plenty of beautiful people interaction in the video as well. Perfect pearly white smiles, drama up one leg and down the other. What Lorde does well is invite you into an alternate universe you're apt to like better than the vanilla ice cream land you may or may not be making your peace with. She was made for the mini-movie experience videos have come to represent. What tension she gives off, what fervor she brings to her overall show. "Magnets" turns the flair up a notch once Disclosure throws body on the synthesizers rather than allowing the percussion to be the sole source of staggered imagination. As she plays rough with her video boy toy, Disclosure gives her the right dimensions of ambient noise. Lorde's choral refrain "Let's embrace the point of no return" sounds very palatable after you put Disclosure's melodies beneath. Past the 1:20 mark the synths take a hike and we return to flat out percussion in full majesty. Cue parade rolling down the street if that's what you desire. There's not much to this party besides synth and Lorde vamping it up. Does that make "Magnets" a song you'll want to refer to time and again when the situation demands it? The virtuosity both in Disclosure's instrument and Lorde's deliberately provocative one are fine but, that said, the overall product isn't built to last. "Magnets" isn't going to prompt much long term attachment.

Pop Evil Shows Us a High Old Time

Are you missing '80s style metal guitar solos? You have a friend in Pop Evil. The Michigan tribe returns front and center with "Up" the album and "Ways To Get High". In movies, the trailer allows you to visualize the jumping off juncture of a movie. At times that works to a filmmaker's disservice because if the trailer constitutes the bet part of the film then not too many will bother with the remainder for obvious reasons. If you were under the impression that the bass which opens "Ways To Get High" pretty much represents the song's creative zenith then I'm pleased to report you're greatly mistaken. While Matt DeRito's bass playing nudges a sexy frame of reference to our ears that's a mere appetizer for the scrumptious soup you're going to slurp down wholesale. The bridge captivates richly. Note after note sends me back to the Sunset Strip, to '80s metal glory. The longer Nick Fueling's guitar gets the chance to roam wild and free, the better it begins to sound. Joshua Marunde (AKA Chachi Riot) drums his demented little heart out. What righteous fun. As you venture out into the deeper waters this song gains added complexities. The harmonies can be raw one minute, starry-eyed the next. In New Orleans they might refer to this chef talent as jambalaya. These cooks don't fool around by any stretch. They're head long into jangling chords before you've had a chance to let the bass simmer a spell and take root in your well-worn memory banks. What Joshua does behind the kit conveniently gives "Ways To Get High" a sturdy backbone. It's a small pinch of rock heaven but then again who said a pinch was nowhere near good enough to suffice. Leigh Kakaty avoid frills at the mike stand. Basic attention grabbing voice technique specifically designed to hold your interest which, in this highly short attention span era is definitely a positive thing. Merging Leigh and Nick with rhythm guitarist Dave Grahs for the chief vocal harmonies demonstrates what can happen if you give relentless focus a chance to flower. So is there a time of day when "Ways To Get High" sounds best? Personally I'd shoot for right as the day turns to night, little dash of residual sunset to savor. Throw some party libations and you've got the backdrop for one dandy evening of classy entertainment. The choice of chords stays pretty constant but what Pop Evil gets from its handiwork proves value-oriented song craft has its place in contemporary music. Nobody's trying to knock your perspective on its ear. Pop Evil wants only to get you to watch its electric waves come in and out of the shore. Late in the proceedings some '60s era beachfront bliss assumes its place at the table. Bellying up to this bar won't leave you pocket foolish. The thing to watch carefully in listening to Nick at the chorus is how he asserts himself between Nick and Dave. You know who's flashing the alpha dog tonsils here. "Ways To Get High" makes detox appear to be one of the dumbest concepts ever. There's no hangover to suffer from here. Simply hard rock knocking you on your petard.

Alabama Shakes Color Outside The Lines

Alabama Shakes ratchet down the speed for the title track "Sound & Color". This leaves we the listeners the chance to let the fine granules of meaning pulse through our collective vein. This effort begins innocuously enough, with soft sensual keyboards assuming the foundation. Frankly, I was wondering when Brittany Howard was going to let her supercharged lungs kick into high gear. You can rest easy knowing she doesn't take too long to allow her presence to be supremely felt. Hers is a voice drenched in class, soul, and undeniable vitality. She's handy picking guitar too. Zac Cockrell isn't as noticeable a presence on bass but, if you linger long enough you can make out what makes him a life affirming presence in the band. Steve Johnson's percussion is not overwhelming in its delivery but, again, lean in close and you'll hear traces of what he brings to the party. I was thirty seconds into "Sound & Color", knowing full well that the song was a taut three minutes at best. I'm glad the words kicked in before it appeared all might be sacrificed on the altar of cutesy instrumentation. You'll appreciate it best going down slow and deliberate. Brittany fancies herself a modern day Aesop with her own universally noticeable fable. I bet we've all mused upon Life's strangeness. The longer you live the more apparent that becomes. In between numerous repetitions of the title Brittany steps up to the plate for her impressions of what's unfolding around her. She correctly gleans that "This life ain't like a book". I beg to differ, at least lately. What with the latest round of mass shootings, Life feels like a grim fairy tale. But I leave the world affair pondering to talking heads bearing the proper qualifications. Brittany states "I wanna touch a human being". Digital dependency appears to have eroded this vital connective tissue so Brittany's to be praised for optimism, if in fact that's what her words convey. In the video outer space takes center stage. Wonder what visiting space aliens would think of our kind based on recent behaviors. I appreciate Alabama Shakes shifting to an easygoing frame of mind as opposed to the rich gumbo bubbling up from "Don't Wanna Fight". That shows us the band isn't some one trick pony milking ghosts of soulful fret picking past. Brittany, if you got the chance to see her sing on venerable Saturday Night Live, lights up when the spotlight lands on her. The others know full well to follow her lead and, don't get caught up in asking too many burdensome questions. The video imagery glides along in a similar fashions to the overall beat. The group's steadily garnering a richly deserved reputation. "Sound & Color" sounds like the ideal morsel to put additional cement on that rep.

It's Trivium's World And We Just Rock In It

Absolutely pulse pounding stuff. Trivium can stretch out the menace. All hands are on deck for this Orlando foursome. Cylinders not only fire they haunt the darkest corners of your worst nightmares. Trivium maximizes its eerie landscape and passes the squeamishness onto us. "Until The World Goes Cold" raises you up, slaps you across the face and, with no further dilly dally, dares you to do anything to stop it. The chord the band has chosen has the darkness of a graveyard seance splashed everywhere. No pussies allowed in this neck of the woods. Matt Heafy lets it be known that the cheap seats better pay real close attention because his evil eyes are not to be denied. Meanwhile Paolo Gregoletto employs his bass as a military unir would a battering ram...relentless, uncompromising, total venom. Matt Madiro puts his drum beats in all the right places which makes "Until The World Goes Cold" and even bigger threat to the tranquility of your overnight hours. Corey Beaulieu attacks your senses with his lead guitar. Taking the total package in one gulp this song dares you to look away. The mastery of domain on display isn't for some weekend warrior who's slumming in metal territory when much of the rest of the time he or she's unabashed country or pop. Those pesky vultures don't know when to leave body well enough alone. You can smell the mud, visualize the trees we feed post land of the living. Nothing wrong with going down with the ship, no matter what form the craft comes in. Matt won't go away from his earthbound throne quietly. The way he settles on a note, then allows the note to stretch as far as his throat's proficiency lets him falls into nothing short of awe-inspiring jaw dropping parameters. If the lyrics don't already make your teeth chatter you need to make a point of pairing it with the so macabre it's sanity robbing video. You don't have to be a rocket scientist to make out the story. You won't have to run after this song. Its pace doesn't crawl but isn't working your cosmic nerves a mile a minute either. You won't uncover any letup in the intensity. However, this brand of intensity doesn't beat you over the head repeatedly until you've got a quasi-permanent migraine. Sometimes you don't have to go over the top to make your presence felt. One theme that comes up in this corpse chat, and it's not the first time I've gotten this vibe from a band, is "I turned my back on what's really important and now I'm paying a severe cost for it." Much has Matt sacrificed but, in his final analysis we return to the day late and a dollar short turf. Give him credit for owning up to his mortal sins. Better that than tap dance around what the real problems are. You don't come close to solving them that way. Trivium gives the Orlando scene a depth far exceeding Walt Disney World brand loyalty. To put it succinctly, the chills on Trivium's ride likely are going to stay with you much longer. "Until The World Goes Cold" benefits from the icicles inhabiting its veins. The outcome terrorizes and exhilarates simultaneously.

Many Thanks From The Boy Behind The Buzz

Happy Thanksgiving to all my blog followers and any who harbor wishes of becoming followers. In honor of the day devoted to being appreciative for everything from life to food to safety I'd like to step out from behind the curtain and share with you just how deep passion for what I do runs. For me music appreciation class in the school of life started when I got my mitts on the original London soundtrack to Jesus Christ Superstar. I was drawn into it by the raw anger, the hard rock fury. As proof of my accumulated respect I can tell you one of the original vinyl LPs has been played so much part of the vinyl has been worn to powder. From "What's The Buzz?" to "I Don't Know How To Love Him" to the various instrumental interludes this soundtrack was and to my mind still is jaw-dropping. It exemplifies what hard rock at its finest should sound like. Much of my 1970s music tastes ran to TV theme songs, not exactly a surprise considering I dined on TV watching with quite a bit of regularity. I'm a huge fan of Rhythm Heritage's version of the theme from S.W.A.T. You listen to that and impression No. 1 is usually "Hey, I want to go there and separate some sexual deviant's head from his neck" You're flat out pumped up!! Props go out to "Suicide Is Painless" better known as the theme from M*A*S*H. I also liked The Rockford Files theme quite a bit as well. During the '70s I didn't really have a musical taste preference per se. Then, in 1979, Blondie entered my orbit. I know "Heart of Glass" was the monster hit but its B-side, "11:59" was viciously satisfying in its own right. Debbie Harry supplied with my first crack at having cool taste in music rather than just gliding by on whatever usual kiddie fare was available. I am forever in your debt, Ms. Harry. Thanks to you my love affair with rock began in earnest. MTV cranked up in 1981. Most pop culture hordes know this chapter and verse. But what you don't know is, while others wanted their MTV and subsequently got their MTV August 1st, 1981. I didn't get mine until November, 1982. First video my peepers were exposed to? Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean". The game, as they say, was on. I very much got into the tunes of 1983. Everything that year had a special zing that I likely won't hear again in my lifetime. Everything from Kajagoogoo, to Taco, to Spandau Ballet, to Bow Wow Wow, to Peter Schilling seemed programmed from another planet, and I wanted the first rocket ship ride taking me there. By the late '80s hard rock snagged my cojones in a vise like grip. I don't apologize for owning a few Winger 45s. I don't have to apologize for owning anything from Warrant's catalog simply because I don't own anything from said catalog. Enter the 1990s. I respect everyone who thinks Kurt Cobain's suicide was a tragedy of epic proportions but I never thought of grunge as too terribly motivating a force in my life. This guy's supposed to be the voice of Gen Xers like me who those before me see as slackers with no real direction? If I wanted to stare at my navel and sing along to the "Life sucks" mantra I'd turn on the news. That said I do confess "Smells Like Teen Spirit" is a true American original. There's no song in the known universe that's so jarring, so discordant, so up in your grills. The late '90s were a breath of fresh air for me because both the teen pop and Latin invasions brought fun back onto the charts. Nice break from flannel grunge and honky despising gangsta rap. If you can't at least crack a smile at "Livin' La Vida Loca" then you're in fact not human but a repressed cyborg bent on destruction. After we stopped pissing our pants over Y2K the 2000s burst into view. J-Lo's career continued its upward trajectory. Destiny's Child romped along. Do like me some "Bug A Boo". That's effective on so many levels. Beyonce runs the show but as a quartet then trio then Beyonce gets bit by the solo player bug act, they were riotous to watch. The 2000s brought Muse to my attention. Many years later I still lick my plate clean whenever the trio pops back onto the scene. I did admire everyone from Puddle Of Mudd to Staind, to Texas grown Blue October during the aughts but Muse turned out to be the towering skyscraper dwarfing many thoughtfully erected but much less ambitious walk-up apartments. I'll admit to dropping Katy Perry's "I Kissed a Girl" into guilty pleasure status. I admire Lady Gaga's brass but Katy Perry's music captivates my attention. The 2010s appear poised to heighten Halestorm's lead vixen Lzzy Hale's potential as a major player on the hard rock scene. Thanks for allowing me the vanity of giving you my music loving history in encapsulated form. If you'd prefer I spare you excessive word barf and stick to reviewing the art form I'm so crazy about, message received. You can expect future tune talk in the not too distant future. Rockin' Robert out. Be sure to save room for pumpkin pie!!

Nothing Really Adventurous About Coldplay's Latest Effort

I admire Coldplay very much. In the 21st century they've put out some compelling singles. "Clocks" never ceased to be riveting. "Speed of Sound" delivered on the stadium sized harmonies only the likes of U2 are especially known for. Chris Martin has vocal gifts that shy away from overwhelming the listener but take care to add everything from melancholy to grandiose passages to haunting chill worthy classic backdrop sounds. Nothing but praise going on here as you can tell. That's why it puts heaviness in my heart to inform you that "Adventure Of A Lifetime" is far from adventurous. In fact you'd be forgiven if you took one listen and presumed the song was better equipped for the Muzak file at your friendly neighborhood dentist's office or piped into the grocery store as a means of getting you to hurry up with your shopping because the longer you dilly dally the more of this saccharine enhanced treacle you'll be forced to listen to. "Adventure Of A Lifetime" has to be the most wide audience pandering cut Coldplay has ever foisted upon us. There are bells and whistles galore, not a positive statement for a band with Coldplay's long history of excellence. Jonny Buckland and Guy Berryman mix in their alto and bass guitars to form a light, gooey froth not unlike what angel food cake tastes like. If you listen close enough you might discern voice tricks appropriate to an '80s era Peter Gabriel track than a Coldplay number. Something about the special effect makes me think of stirrings in the jungle. But, getting on to brass tacks, "Speed of Sound" wore the coat of an outfit primed for adventure. "Clocks" couldn't help but make you feel cognizant of the time warp we all must endure as price of participation in the human race. "Adventure Of A Lifetime" sets the bar unusually low. Possibly Coldplay was under the impression that, at this stage of its career it could assemble a song with "phoned in" written all over it. I suppose even the most accurate basketball player is bound to have a few clang off the rim. I'm merely saying I don't respect a song that doesn't deliver what it promises to deliver. I prefer not to think "Walgreens pharmacy department" when I hear a Coldplay song but, that's the unfortunate conclusion I come to. "Head Full Of Dreams" hits the street next month. We're in trouble if "Adventure Of A Lifetime" represents the best track of the bunch. Will Champion's drumming here makes him look like (embrace the corny joke if you dare) an also-ran rather than a champion (I'm here, maybe not all week, but nice lean chunks of it). Have we entered a period in modern music where A-list bands can get away with so much less than what they're capable of? If Coldplay's fronting that non-revolution what a shame that outcome would be. This band has fully demonstrated its versatility often in the past. It's that versatility which brought them to the head of the musical chow line. "Adventure Of A Lifetime" is about as exciting as a trip to the dry cleaners.

Highly Suspect Brings Fresh Blood To The Rock Rumble

Although you wouldn't confuse "Bloodfeather" with the oh so excellent "Lydia", Highly Suspect is to be commended for mixing up the chords they use to paint with. "Bloodfeather" has a faster gait working in its favor. "Lydia" proved itself calculating, each beat drawn out for maximum uneasiness. "Bloodfeather" has as its function service as a sleek guitar driven jangler which goes great with your favorite margarita or wine spritzer. Johnny Stevens demonstrates a real talent for eye-opening poetry. "A Georgia rain just kissed my lips" leaves little to the imagination. Sultry old school plantation vistas grip you fully. Not only that, he uses a homonym in the third line, specifically "Steady the rein, girl." At the chorus he gets a simile coaxed out of his verdant imagination. Note "You fit me like a glove when I'm inside of you." Kind of invites you to the Sodom and Gomorrah bacchanalia without your physical presence being requested. What a rich picture of the lady who is, was, and always will be his everything. Ladies, it's up to you to decide whether or not you'd consider sentiments like, "Your eyes, they could cut through diamonds and steel. For real, they're sharper than the blade in your hand" flattering or hideously offensive. Turning to the sound itself, the lube job greasing these wheels stuns beyond measure. Keeping the flow going keeps this Cape Cod trio in good stead. Much of the magic belongs credited to bass player Rich Meyer whose infectious vibrations leave an incredible trail extending for days. Does this outfit come complete with enough swagger to drive a pro football team wild? Not really. The guys are too self-assured in what they're selling to require macho posturing. Technically Highly Suspect prove with both "Lydia" and "Bloodfeather" that versatility is a trait it knows well. You can respect a group that doesn't milk a marketable formula until it's bone dry. If significant chord changes can grab an audience's attention Highly Suspect is equal to the task. Moreover you're not going to make out the "Look at me, I'm a genius" instrumental parlor games one often gets at the bridge of a song. In the final analysis does "Bloodfeather" hold up if you crank it up many, many times? Not exactly but, if vicarious thrills in the short term excite you, then "Bloodfeather" surely has the stones to get you pumped as long as possible.