WHITE FENCE - S/T

When I first got my hands on this disc, I couldn't help but think that these White Fence folks were a pretty mysterious bunch. From seemingly out of nowhere, without any psychedelic accoutrements whatsoever, White Fence had recorded one of the most intriguing and listenable lo-fi soundtracks to an acid-fried state of mind in quite some time. After doing a bit of research, I discovered that this record is actually the brainchild of one Tim Presley of the groups Darker My Love and The Strange Boys. A-ha! White Fence is NOT a group, but a one-man lysergic freakout: now I'm even more impressed.

Without a doubt, Presley has absorbed the sounds of '60s psych merchants like Syd Barrett and The Electric Prunes, while throwing in a dollop or two of garage-punk aggression. But while many a musician has trod this nouveau-psychedelic path before, there aren't too many people these days delivering the goods with this much conviction and with so many melodic hooks. It's one thing to write and record trippy soundscapes, but it takes a special talent to create memorable songs which stand up to repeated listening. And even if the template for White Fence's approach was established years ago, in the hands of someone like Tim Presley, it still sounds as fresh as ever. Definitely one of this reviewer's fave discs of the year thus far.

ARIEL PINK'S HAUNTED GRAFFITI - Before Today

Ah, the cassette warped from the sun. A perfect relic of 1980s summers, when absent-minded teenagers would leave prized tapes on the dashboard of their cars only to come back and find that David Lee Roth was a more than a little crazy from the heat—he was half-liquid thanks to it. Welcome to Before Today, an album that plays just like one such distorted cassette, even down to the hissy, mid-range fidelity that screams TDK Dolby NR.

OK, so you weren't around in the '80s? That's cool, Ariel Pink can let you in on it, but take note: this is more than some trip down a geometric memory lane. Pink's a cunning and admirably unhinged songwriter. Whether his references points are Seventeen Seconds-era Cure ("Fright Night (Nevermore)"), weirdo soundtrack outtakes from an episode of Miami Vice ("Beverly Kills"), or a pop tune complete with moaning porno sounds snatched from the cutting room of Guns N' Roses' "Rocket Queen" ("Butt-House Blondies"), there's always some sweet hook cutting through the retro fetish. Lucky for him, because even the most eager hipster has to admit that this is often one hell of a cheesy sounding record. But in the end, even this feature kind of works in his favour. It's almost like Pink's daring you to love this record in spite of yourself. And since he's smart enough to never pilfer from one particular style for too long, that's exactly what you'll do. Superbly demented stuff. 

THE BLACK KEYS - Brothers

As much as working in a record store keeps you in a pole position to be first to hear the latest and greatest (although, in this day and age, that's hardly a given), there's a certain beauty to being a latecomer. Not only is it humanly impossible to actually be on top of everything that you're supposed to listen to, but arriving at something at your own pace releases the weight of expectation that can squash so many albums like a proverbial grape. While they've never been The Strokes or Franz Ferdinand in terms of hype, The Black Keys have been a band to check out for the better part of a decade now. Brothers, their sixth LP, is my introduction to the band, and even though it wasn't a matter of conscious abstinence on my part, it's been well worth the wait.

I must admit to hearing a track here and there that often leaned toward the greasy side of sludgy. And I'm aware enough of the group's circumstances to know about 2008's Attack And Release, which featured production from Danger Mouse and is often credited with expanding their sound. But no matter how they got here, the most impressive thing about Brothers is how it quite simply doesn't sound like the work of two guys—and I'm not just talking about the obvious matter of all those overdubs done in-studio. They're creatively circumnavigating their limitations without abandoning what makes them unique or getting too busy. 

From The Spinanes to The Inbreds, from godheadSilo to the mighty White Stripes, duos nearly always explode into their careers with their audience focusing on what they don't do rather than what they do: "They don't have a bassist! Rock with no guitars? I gotta hear this!", and so on. But inevitably, this character trait leads to a lot of dull follow-up records that sound the same—unless they find a way to turn a corner. The best have done this, and I'd happily put The Black Keys in that category. While everything here clearly sits in the general niche of blues/rock/r&b/soul, it's passionate, varied, and classic without being predictable. What's more, Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney never lean too heavily on studio games to fill out their sound—no matter what's going on, you feel the casual communication between these two gents, especially in Carney's loosey-goosey drumming. Sticky, groovy, sexy and haunted, it's straight-up a really great record. 

Now go away; I've got a back catalogue to check out.

THE ALPS - Le Voyage

For most, a perfect summer album means bringing the party—dance jams to get you hot and sweaty. I don’t know about you, but I’m already hot and sweaty. I’m looking for something like the cool breeze that hits you just as you’re reclining in the garden with a little sundowner. Le Voyage hits the spot perfectly, with gauzy soft-psych streaming over everything and letting the mind relax and bliss out completely.

Steering clear of the claustrophobic reverb flood of Animal Collective and the like, Alps paint their psychic landscapes the old-fashioned way: shimmering twelve-strings, cymbals so airy they must be transparent, and the old stand-by tambura—'70s secret code that things are about to get trippy. When things do get electronic, things don’t stray far from that vintage palette—gurgling analog synths, tape echo, and distinctly French-sounding found-sound collage, with plenty of room left for your own imagination as you let your head float up into the ether.

STRANGE BOYS - Be Brave

Though they have been on tour with Spoon and Deerhunter, Austin’s Strange Boys don’t fit comfortably into the indie scene. Yes, they are signed to Rough Trade in the UK, but with a resume of backing up cult R’n’B singer Mighty Hannibal and grabbing support slots with Roky Erickson, their Nuggets-styled press shots show their true allegiance to a looser, boozier, Stones-inspired version of back-to-the-basics rock’n’roll. 

What separates Strange Boys from the legion of other garage-y acts that have been cropping up in the American south and west is that they don’t go for primitive lo-fi crunch and hazy psychedelia, instead swaggering through a dozen tracks featuring the distinctive croak of lead singer Ryan Sambol (a perfect vocal fusion of both Neil Hagerty and Jennifer Herrema of Royal Trux), and most recently adding Jenna Thornhill (of the sadly departed Mika Miko) on honking sax and bg’s to the band’s ever-shifting organ-backed line-up.

DUM DUM GIRLS - I Will Be

Sometimes you just need to keep things simple. And even if you could legitimately argue that 'simple' is all the Dum Dum Girls are capable of, I Will Be works by doing just that. In under a half hour, eleven songs skip by with effortless ease and yet, for such a brief encounter, they certainly make an impression. It's not unlike a fleeting glimpse of a particularly cool, attractive boy or girl on the subway—the main difference being that, unlike that now long-gone object of desire, you can bask in the glow of I Will Be again by pressing play (which you likely will do).

Their music is simultaneously approachable and aloof, awash in luxurious reverb, and abundant with an instantly palatable combination of Phil Spector girl-groupiness and Jesus and Mary Chain haze. "Blank Girl" even manages a kind of "Sometimes Always" (the JAMC's killer duet with Hope Sandoval) in reverse, with Crocodiles' lead singer Brandon Welchez (himself a big devotee of the Mary Chain) doing the deadpan Jim Reid honours.

And then there's that name. On the surface, it's seems a self-effacing and preemptive admission of their rather basic M.O. Yeah, yeah, they know, folks—their music is easy to play. But I love the percussive onomatopoeia of "dum-dum", a phrase that perfectly mimics the über-groovy drumbeats that drive I Will Be straight to the heart of hip-shake land. Call it plain. Call it easy. Call it derivative. Just don't call it dumb.

THE SOFT PACK - S/T

In the space of thirty-two minutes, The Soft Pack's debut album never lets up with its ten turbo-charged tracks. This San Diego-based quartet was formerly known as The Muslims, a name that failed to catch on in the current American political climate. Following the release of a few singles, The Soft Pack continues to offer up a stripped-down, souped-up take on '60s garage and '70s punk/new wave. Along the way, they throw in some surf-guitar licks, and their songs also betray the influence of '80s college rock bands like The Feelies.

The Soft Pack are more than just the sum of their parts, though, for their material is replete with insanely catchy riffs, with lead singer Mark Lamkin's deadpan yet heartfelt vocals expressing cynical disaffection. Once you listen to tracks such as the brazen and anguished "Answer To Yourself", the jangly and melodic "More Or Less", and the relentless "Pull Out", it's a sure thing you'll be hooked to The Soft Pack's hard-driving snot-punk anthems.

THE FLAMING LIPS - Embryonic

It was a decade ago that The Soft Bulletin pushed The Flaming Lips from alt-rock one-hit wonders (at least in terms of the general public's view) to full-on contender status. Although things did not really coalesce until 2002's Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots and its hit single "Do You Realize", Bulletin matched their trademark sense of bizarre spectacle with newly Herculean production and sweeping melodic gestures. And so the group that once famously festooned venues entirely in such lo-fi props as christmas lights and bubble machines finally gained the clout to turn their live show into a three-ring festival circus. At first, it was truly inspiring to behold—the sight of leader Wayne Coyne climbing over top of the crowd in a giant, clear ball was too insane and joyous to not love completely. But after some seven years of seeing them open every concert with "Race For The Prize"—and an equal amount of time without anything resembling a great record—it felt like the spectacle had consumed the music. What was once one of the most unpredictable and challenging bands in indie rock had become a Cirque du Soleil for hipsters. Thankfully, Embryonic takes the rule book that this band has constructed in recent years and it pretty much sends it to hell. No singles, not anything even approaching a pop song. Instead, a dark cloud of paranoia and groove dominates the album.

As stated by many already, it is indeed a unified recording—all 18 tracks are dedicated to a single message and approach. As a result, The Flaming Lips have truly made an album worth talking about again. Even better, they've done so without simply repeating the tricks that made their albums such a thrill in the '90s. Instead, they've successfully applied the considerable cinematic power of their live show to a purely audio experience—the entire record is not songs so much as colours, textures and resonant tremors. It's their craziest trip of a disc since the 4-CD experiment Zaireeka, and one that you'll find yourself listening to a lot more—and a lot more easily, too.

BROADCAST & THE FOCUS GROUP - Investigate Witch Cults Of The Radio Age

Broadcast keep getting stranger and stranger, ditching all remnants of their '60s British pop leanings and embracing the naïve and chaotic while retaining their soundtrack inclinations, although they tend more toward the avant end of sound library recordings these days (along with harsh electronics, as evidenced during their recent performance here in Toronto). The amorphous processing on display at the show was just a hint of what Trish Keenan and James Cargill have been up to since 2005’s Tender Buttons, although we won’t fully know until they drop their next proper album next year. In the meantime, we have this nearly 50-minute “mini”-album to contend with, the first musical collaboration between Broadcast and The Focus Group (Julian House, co-owner of the Ghost Box label who has also designed most of the sleeve art for Broadcast). Witch Cults flows like a disturbingly surreal dream, with Trish’s increasingly lullabye/nightmare vocals spread out over a handful of the 23 tracks here. The asymmetrical loops and nonsensical treatment of harmony and melody further add to the notion that Broadcast’s creative vision is far from spent. 

WHITE DENIM - Fits

It's not easy to take old tricks and make them fresh and new—in music, you're considered a revivalist if you try to sound like a relic from the past, and, unfortunately, it's always worded with a negative connotation. Austin's White Denim take their inspiration and sounds from high-intensity psych-rock, bluesy British proto-prog and XTC-esque pop hooks, mixing it all together with a reckless abandon that makes the listener want to dance around the room like an excited 5-year-old. Nothing is held back here, but that doesn't mean it's not well-planned. Fits starts out full-tilt; the first few tunes rock hard, but also twist and turn, with gonzo time changes balanced with melodies that don't alienate the ears. By four songs in, you kind of settle into an understanding that this is one challenging party record, but who doesn't like to learn and have fun at the same time? Towards album's end, the trio starts to unleash some well-written pop singles, as well as one jam that can't not have been influenced by fellow Texans ZZ Top (and to top it all off, a bonus disc of the group's previously Europe-only debut Exposion is also enclosed). I've been waiting a long time for a band like White Denim to exist. Thanks, guys!

(White Denim perform at the Horseshoe on Mon. Nov 9.)

VA - Dirty French Psychedelics

This is not the 'official' psychedelic sound, but rather a sound that has been overlooked by revivals from the '60s to the '80s, ignored for lacking easy categorization. In 1970s France, moody orchestrations by Jean-Claude Vannier for the epochal Melody Nelson session with Serge Gainsbourg (as well as the less-acknowledged but artistically equal Brigitte Fontaine Est...) combined with the clash of exotic folk and cosmic jazz on the Saravah label to create an atmospheric and far-reaching sound that embraced open-mindedness, come-down grooviness, and the pristine (but definitely not smooth) production techniques of the time. It is a sound that's a purple haze without being “Purple Haze”, if you get my drift. Paris' Dirty Sound System have defined an amorphous genre, a rare thing in the compilations market, and have done it with a flow that betrays some serious mixtape obsession. A creepy and ominous mood is created by soundtrack greats François de Roubaix and Karl Heinz Schäfer, plus freaky pioneers Brigitte Fontaine and Dashiell Hedayat, along with many more.

KURT VILE - Childish Prodigy

The logical culmination of a year that has seen a pair of Kurt Vile's much-lauded, limited-run solo home recordings (Constant Hitmaker and God Is Saying This To You) followed up by an EP of full-band studio work with backing group The Violators (The Hunchback), this Matador debut splits the difference between these two sides, although for this writer at least, the re-recorded "Hunchback" (along with the one other riff-rocker that pops up halfway, Dim Stars cover "Monkey") clunks through its chord changes in a way that doesn't exactly put this album's best foot forward sequencing-wise.

No matter, though, since if you're more partial to Vile's drone and fingerpicked/folk-rock moves (two traits shared with fellow Philadelphians The War On Drugs, with whom Kurt has played guitar and whose singer Adam Granduciel now returns the favour with their roles reversed here), a darker, mid-fi complexity clings to Childish Prodigy like a mold, as shimmering solo tracks such as "Overnite Religion" pack as much of a tranced-out, self-assured and swaggery punch as his high water mark to date with Violators in tow, the seven-minute, one-chord ramble of "Freak Train". 

VA - Where The Action Is!: Los Angeles Nuggets 1965-1968

Dateline Hollywood, 1966: Miles away from the movie studios and Beverly Hills mansions, the Sunset Strip is throbbing with clubs and kids catching some of the best bands the U.S. of A. had to offer. The Byrds, The Standells, Love, The Seeds: the list can go on ad infinitum. In this reviewer's not-so-humble opinion, Los Angeles had the most vibrant music scene in the world, second only to London, England. The legendary Rhino label has now seen fit to pay ample tribute to the fantastic—and occasionally mind-bending—vitality and variety of L.A.'s pop-rock talent on its latest installment of the Nuggets box set series. Its four CDs and 101 tracks provide an essential overview of everything from the first folk-rock groups to the studio geniuses (Brian Wilson, Gary Usher, Jan Berry) by way of the snotty suburban garage combos.

Everyone who was anyone (and even some deserving nobodies) are here, including The Turtles, The Leaves, early Randy Newman, Van Dyke Parks, Buffalo Springfield, and Ricky Nelson (on acid!). The accompanying book comes complete with beautiful photos and detailed descriptions of L.A. clubs and the all-important radio stations which broadcast the new and innovative folk-rock, garage, psych, and sunshine pop sounds emanating from smoggy "Boss" Angeles. A terrific and timeless slice of pop music history, Where The Action Is! is definitely not a case of "I guess you had to be there"; with this wonderful box set, you ARE there.

PAUL REVERE & THE RAIDERS - Hungry For Kicks: Singles & Choice Cuts 1965-69

Strangely enough, one of the greatest American rock'n'roll groups of the '60s is also among the most underrated. Paul Revere & The Raiders racked up several Top 20 hits from 1965 to '69 and also hosted a daily TV music show on which they performed comedy routines while wearing matching Revolutionary War uniforms. Not exactly the kinds of things that endeared them to the growing hippie counterculture, which accounts for the fact that despite their brilliant singles, they were eventually perceived as little more than a bubblegum joke. This compilation fortunately sets the record straight, combining their raucous garage singles with sizzling slightly-delic album cuts. Graced with an outstanding lead singer, Mark Lindsay, The Raiders deserve to be at least near the pantheon of the era's bands, alongside The Beach Boys, Lovin' Spoonful, and Byrds (with whom they shared producer Terry Melcher).

SMITH WESTERNS - S/T

There’s a reason why Smith Westerns have been gathering steam recently, and that’s because they do what great young bands should do, breathing life into the clichés of three-chord rock’n’roll. Barely out of high school, they inhabit a universe of naïve crushes and wearing the right clothes to get the girl, superficial, perhaps, but on the other hand, totally primal motivators for forming a band in the first place. What really works for these guys is that they believe. They believe in the potency of the Ramones and Marc Bolan, and that rock is essentially about being young. There’s an exuberance here that comes with their lo-fi production and femme-y vocals that makes this one of the most fun releases of the year.

(Our current stock is limited to the copies we picked up at their recent Silver Dollar show here in Toronto, so don’t waste time if you're curious, since we don’t know when [or if!] we’ll be getting any more in.)

TY SEGALL - Lemons

On his second album in under a year, Ty Segall returns with another killer slab of voluminous rock’n’roll.  Already a veteran of the fertile California garage rock scene, Segall has fronted the Epsilons and played with Party Fowl, The Perverts, The Traditional Fools, and most recently Sic Alps.  Instead of spreading himself thin, though, a common side-effect of playing in too many bands, Segall, like Jay Reatard, has risen to the top of his scene at a young age with a confidence that most others only attain in their later years.  But while the aforementioned Reatard colours his sound with new wave/Zealand indie references, Segall grabs the baton (caveman club?) from Billy Childish and '60s Washington punks, keeping it real with tube distortion and piles of retro reverb.  The cover of Captain Beefheart’s “Dropout Boogie” is a pleasant surprise and an excellent choice.  There is a lot of great garage rock out there these days, and this is some of the best of the year so far.

THEE OH SEES - Help

The third album in three years for John Dwyer’s Oh Sees sees the band improve on their previous effort, The Master’s Bedroom Is Worth Spending A Night In, itself a great album. Once again, Dwyer’s secret weapon is Brigid Dawson, whose vocal interplay gives them a leg-up in the male-dominated garage rock scene. And while the band are not averse to pounding out sounds from the first wave of '60s punk, they’re not afraid to cop the groove from the B-52s' “Dance This Mess Around” for “Go Meet The Seed”, or throw in a flute solo to “Meat Step Lively” and strings on closer “Peanut Butter Oven”.  Gosh, 4 out the 12 songs are over the three-minute mark, a rarity in a scene that is thankfully opting for the shorter-is-better route, but Dwyer is not afraid to let a groove ride out if it is working.  If the current back-to-basics revival is going to mutate into a second phase, expect Thee Oh Sees to be leading the way.

(We're also selling tickets for Thee Oh Sees' show at Wrongbar on Thursday October 1.)

GALACTIC ZOO DOSSIER - Issue #8

Galactic Zoo Dossier returns with an eighth issue of obsessively hand-transcribed interviews, articles and underground comics. This time around, Plastic Crimewave (a.ka. Steve Krakow, Mr. GZD) meets up with Vashti Bunyan to discuss her whirlwind musical/wagon journey and Mani Neumeier talks about his days singing, leading and drumming with Guru Guru, plus interviews with Djin Aquarius from Ya Ho Wha 13, raga-folkie Pater Walker, and psychedelic light show pioneer Bill Ham. Also included are features on Funkadelic guitarist Eddie Hazel, songwriter Hoyt Axton, and more. Not only that, but rare tracks from Puffy Areolas, Vashti Bunyan, Toronto’s own Creeping Nobodies and others are collected on the enclosed CD. (But wait, there’s more! This month’s trading cards continue to lovingly pay tribute to yet more “astral folk goddesses” and “damaged guitar gods.”)

CHEVAL SOMBRE - S/T

If you are familiar with Spacemen 3, especially the comatose stillness of Pete "Sonic Boom" Kember’s contributions, it shouldn’t take you long to hear the obvious similarities on the mysterious Cheval Sombre’s debut full-length. In fact, the one- and two-chord songs, simple pentatonic melodies, tremolo and reverb, lack of drums, even the vocals, are so spot-on it’s eerie (check “I Sleep” for proof). The only key difference is that these songs are accompanied by a gently strummed acoustic guitar. No surprise, then, to discover that Kember produced and helped out with the instrumentation. As an added bonus, both Dean Wareham (another indie-psych pioneer via Galaxie 500 and Luna) and his current partner Britta Phillips round out the backing, though they keep it so spare and invisible as to preserve the space and simplicity so favoured by Kember. Throw in a surprising yet apt cover of the Doors’ “Hyacinth House” and you’ve got a great drone-pop record that Spacemen 3 fans can especially enjoy as a form of musical resurrection.

PISCES - A Lovely Sight

In the late '60s, Rockford, Illinois musical collective Pisces ran a studio that they used to produce a body of work that, had they lived in San Francisco or another city with a vibrant psychedelic scene, might have made some waves. Aside from geography, another key detail working against them was the fact that they never issued an album of their work. It's sad, really, because with their knowledge of production techniques and a skill for writing the kind of material that extrapolated, quite convincingly, from the key hallmarks of pop-psychedelia–heavily treated instruments, backward-masking, mixed male-female harmonies a la Jefferson Airplane, and an overall autumnal mood–it's easy to believe that had these songs coalesced into a proper album, they could have been contenders, regionally at the very least. The flanged-out “Mary” could be Os Mutantes backed by Jaki Liebezeit on drums, while the gentle folk of “Are You Changing In Your Time” marvelously boasts the talented vocals of Linda Bruner, who features on four tracks. The lost psych department trickles slowly these days, but you’d be wise to check this out, along with the recent reissue of The Golden Dawn’s Power Plant.