Theory vs. Practice

I might take some flack for this post, but I feel compelled to opine on how certain ideas just don't work out. For example: what if Jay-Z and Kanye did an album together? That'd be awesome, right? But Watch the Throne fell pretty flat for me. Granted I'm not a huge fan or knowledgeable listener of either individually, but there's something overblown about the whole thing. It feels like they just emailed their verses to the producer and were like "okay, there, done."

Similarly, and again at risk of flack, I think the album version of "Not in Love" by Crystal Castles is better than the single version featuring Robert Smith. There are some differences in the mix that are kind of a wash, and I think Robert Smith did a killer job on the vocals, but the problem's the pacing; whereas the album version shows a lot of restraint and then explodes into a euphoric haze at the 2:50 mark, the single version is just as loud in the first chorus. It blows its load way too early, and the end of the song loses a lot of its effect. Compare for yrself:

   

On Repeat: Liars - "The Exact Colour of Doubt"

It's typically a good move to open an album with one of your most compelling songs, and "The Exact Colour of Doubt" fits that bill to a T. Its gentle percussion and airy swells of synthesizer conjure an image of the ocean as seen from a mountain at 7 AM: there's a sense of being gently cradled close to something, but in the presence of an incredibly vast and powerful space.

Review: Laurel Halo - Quarantine

Laurel Halo, Brooklyn synthwaver extraordinaire, has been getting a lot of attention over the past two years. She's released a deluge of material both under her main stage name and as King Felix, as well as featuring on Games' That We Can Play EP and gotten the Oneohtrix Point Never treatment on her 2010 track "Metal Confection." Quarantine, fittingly released on Kode9's boundary-crushing Hyperdub label, distills her previous work into a release that's beautifully bold, odd, mature and complex.

Quarantine's charm has as much to do with its deviation from Halo's previous work as it does its similarities. Much like its artwork (anime schoolgirls slaughtering themselves/each other with katanas, blood, intestines, a crumbling rainbow, all superimposed on a glittery hologram grid), Quarantine is a delicate exercise in self-contradiction: almost lacking percussion but still rhythmic, mechanical and yet somehow cathartic; foreign and difficult, but still what might be called pop.

Those already familiar with Laurel Halo will recognize her stacked-fifth, J-pop-esque melodies and complex '80s synths, but will no doubt be struck by the floating, almost arrhythmic feel that permeates much of the album. Halo's vocals are mixed much more loudly and clearly on Quarantine than on King Felix or Hour Logic; on "Years" (above) they're jarringly up-front, dry and vulnerable. Peeling back the layers of synth and reverb on the older records, Quarantine reveals a capable vocal talent whose conversational tone, loose rhyme schemes and intricate melodies feel more like meditative chants than songs.

Halo has said that Quarantine is about "contrails, trauma, volatile chemicals, viruses," but lines like "travelling heart \ don't go away" and "stare at my bed \ feel nothing \ want to realize you're my dream" reveal themes of longing and isolation at play beneath the sci-fi veneer. These decidedly emotional, yet somehow unnatural-sounding gestures are what makes Quarantine so compelling: like a musical equivalent of the uncanny valley, it's at once coldly alienating and warmly human. From abstract wanderings like "Wow" and "Carcass" to the near-pop "Thaw" and "Light & Space" (below), Halo blurs the line between man and machine to craft a contemplative, breathtaking first full-length.

Soundcloud Picks: Holy Other, Morning High

Holy Other's With U EP was easily one of my favorite albums of 2011, and now just seconds ago I saw this pop up in my Soundcloud feed. (It's been posted for 4 days already, but... you get the point.) "Love Some1" sounds darker and thicker than older Holy Other tracks, but still has the emotive, spacious feel and re-pitched vocal slices they've come to be known for. I also give this track 5 math points for starting in 6/8 and transitioning to 4/4 for its last minute. If this track is any indication, their upcoming LP Held is going to be amazing.



Morning High is one of my followers/followees on Soundcloud and recently posted this gem with a free download while supplies last. Its fizzy, sweeping pads and light percussion snaps remind me of "Ruby" or "Would Know" by Mount Kimbie, but with vocal slices a la Lapalux or Holy Other. But most importantly, it's sexy.

Cut from the Same Cloth

     

Yesterday's post (and Pat's enthusiasm therefor) reminded me of an interesting tidbit I discovered a while back: The National's Boxer and Interpol's Turn on the Bright Lights were recorded in the same studio. What was striking about that discovery to me is that I always thought they sounded similar; their monotone, baritone singers and busy drumming have led me (to some disagreement) to describe The National as "a folksier version of Interpol." And lo, it turns out that both were produced by Peter Katis and recorded at Tarquin Studios in Connecticut, meaning the sonic connection is even deeper than I imagined.

Bonus fact: Animal Collective's Water Curses and Deerhunter's Microcastle (as well as Atlas Sound's Parallax) were both recorded at Rare Book Room in Brooklyn.

All About the Sound

As an aspiring engineer and general audio nerd, sometimes I like the timbre of an album or song as much as the piece itself. There are a lot of factors that go into making a record sound good, and the engineering choices made throughout the process have a profound, make-or-break impact on how we perceive the finished product. Here are some examples of things I both love and hate, though all are records I love:

(Note: the YouTube versions of these songs might not be representative of how the album actually sounds. An MP3 320 copy will give you the best idea what the hell I'm talking about.)

Loves:



Land of Talk - Some Are Lakes: In a word: warmth. omfg warmth. Some Are Lakes has lots of low midrange and silky smoothed-out high mids. Some might argue that it's mixed too dark, but I can't describe how pleasant it is to my ear.



Pavement - Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain: This might be the most perfectly-balanced rock album ever. Crooked Rain is a great example of the benefits of mixing a little bit soft: smooth midrange with incredibly light high-end clarity and detail. I want to know everything about how this album was made.


Flying Lotus - Los Angeles: Everything Flying Lotus touches, including his work producing for Gonjasufi and Thundercat, has this awesome, warm, rubbery saturation on it. He has a tendency to mix too loud, but somehow the analog overdrive isn't overbearing, and he always keeps his bass in check.


Hates:




Kanye West - My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy: This album is great. It's also flat. To (mis-)quote my friend Miles, "it sounds like it was just slapped together." I wouldn't be surprised to find out its dynamic range is less than 4 dB. What does that mean in human speak? All loud, no soft. You need one to appreciate the other.


Washed Out - Within and Without: I like Washed Out a lot, but the compression on this album is straight-up wrong. I don't know who the fuck mixed this, but I find myself turning up the volume every 5 seconds. Why? Too much low end in the mix and too-fast attack on the mastering compressor. Let it breathe, man.



Memoryhouse - "Lately (Deuxieme)" [2010 version]: This song (and video [and actress]) is orgasmically beautiful; the tapey/distorted guitar, pulsing bass drum and twinkly synths are amazing. But there's one glaring flaw: the vocals are riding the hard limiter. Most people wouldn't even notice, but it's especially tangible when heard on headphones, manifested as a rough, crackly distortion, and it bothers me to no end.