St. Vincent’s sophomore album, is filled with contrasts: screeching guitars, Annie Clark’s heavenly voice, angelic string sections, and lyrics that reveal crushing anxiety upon further inspection. These compositional opposites can be viewed as a metaphor of the deception people have towards themselves and others, 

, emphasizing “the difference between the appearance of something and the reality.” Even the album art depicts the seemingly flawless musician, but her blank stare indicates something is hidden underneath. Originally orchestrated entirely on GarageBand so as to not disturb her apartment neighbors in New York City, St. Vincent’s unconventional creative process has nonetheless resulted in one of her most ingenious albums that has withheld the test of time.

Drawing inspiration from the scores of vintage Disney and Woody Allen films, “The Strangers” opens the album with what sounds like a picturesque Snow White world. The uplifting strings and Clark’s calm voice are deceptive to the dark undertones in which she sings “Paint the black hole blacker,” a quote from Philip Roth’s novel, 

. As the orchestral strings spiral downwards and Clark’s voice begins to echo, it becomes increasingly clear that this is not a fairytale, but indeed a place where secrets are kept as Clark questions “What do I share? / What do I keep from all the strangers who sleep where I sleep?” Launching into climactic guitar and fast tempoed drums, the darkness of this charming world is quickly revealed but retracted soon afterwards as the song returns to softer acoustic guitar and fades with the same Disney-esque melody.

“Save Me From What I Want,” inspired by Jenny Holzer’s visual art piece 

portrays a self-aware female who admits her facade as a “Wife in watercolors,” one who can “wash away.” In the later song “Marrow,” the calm request to be rescued in “Save Me From What I Want” escalates into a shameless demand for help. Clark spells out to “H E L P / Help me / Help me” alongside gritty guitar and admittance of anger engrained in her body with the lyrics “Muscle connects to the bone / And bone to the ire and the marrow.” Evoking imagery of a puppet that is ultimately powerless, Clark says “So I pretend there aren’t ten strings tied to all ten of my fingers,” conclusively admitting she is controlled by external forces but must pretend she is not. 

were a score to a film, “Black Rainbow” would serve as the music of the rising action. Bizarrely serene, Clark mentions a “Bird outside the kitchen fighting his reflection” but poses the dark question with an inherently malevolent answer when she asks, “What’s he going to win when he wins?” The instrumentals continually get louder, the back rhythm becomes stronger, an eerie muffled trombone begins, and Clark commands with authority to “have to shout out loud / And set the bed alight and slow.” As a violin scales higher and higher, the electronic effects become progressively distorted and the listener is left deeply unsettled.

As for a climax of the album, “Just The Same But Brand New” serves lyrically and compositionally as such. Starting slowly with oscillating guitar and a slow vocal trill, Clark again plays with the notion of opposites with the oxymoron of being “Just the same but brand new.” Filled with imagery of weightlessness and floating away, the music raises the listener as the slow beat progresses and ultimately explodes into a powerful drum beat that blows the listener away.

Annie Clark has certainly evolved in her musical style since her second album, 

, but the LP serves as more than a simple testimony of a blossoming musician. 

is a poignant, anxiety-filled masterpiece in which St. Vincent demonstrates that every fairytale has a dark side. Ten years later, 

continues to shed light on the darkest part of ourselves in the most beautiful way possible, no matter what guise we wear.

St. Vincent’s ‘Actor’ turns 10

Spinning Top Records / Caroline · March 1, 2019

Aussie psych-rockers Pond follow up their nihilistic psych-pop album 

 with their strongest and most innovate sound yet on their newest LP, 

. Produced by Kevin Parker, and considering a few of Pond’s members tour for Tame Impala’s live shows, Pond seems to have taken a similar trajectory in musical sound as Parker did with Tame Impala’s 2015 

Moving further away from 1960s style, raw psychedelic rock heard on earlier albums such as 

 Pond has evolved to a more energetic and self-aware 80’s new-wave meets 70’s funk style.

In “Daisy,” a beautifully optimistic picture begins to unfold as “the cherry blossoms sprout” and subdued strings lift up the listener. Within a single minute, reality unfolds as the strings climax and cease. Nick Allbrook contrasts the previously delicate lyrics with a new image in which nobody hears him crying in his sleep and “Me and the men of the frontier stack the bodies in a heap.” With a strong leading bassline, a desolate world is painted in which Allbrook reminisces through questions “What about the empire? / What about the cross?” but hope glimmers through in the outro as he promises of a future in which, “When I see you next year I’ll be perfect.”

“about, once upon a time, being jealous and paranoid, too ground down and mad to enjoy love and Genoa” was originally released as a single for the album alongside its 

. The ’70s VHS quality of the video, oiled-up bodybuilders, and shirtless, glitter-covered Allbrook perfectly encapsulates the funky new era of Pond — heavy synth, modulated voice effects (not too far off from those heard in the bridge of Tame Impala’s “Let It Happen”), and celestial chimes blast the listener into a sequined world of distinctly catchy psychedelic funk.

The funk continues with the title track, “Tasmania,” as crisp bass slaps into a sexy beat backed by light xylophone. The ’70s vibes are led by 21st-Century lyrics as Allbrook addresses climate change and how he “might go shack up in Tasmania / Before the ozone goes / And paradise burns in Australia.” In true Pond fashion, the song ends with an unmistakable guitar solo and eventually fades into equally irresistible “The Boys Are Killing Me.”

“Hand Mouth Dancer” fires into new-wave sounds with oscillating synths accompanied by a subdued and echoed Allbrook whose modern, climactic guitar shreds into socially poignant lyrics that call attention to “the actual heroes, dying to get the kids to France / Silenced by their class, silenced by their caste.” After bringing light to current political crises, Pond signals to the listeners that sometimes all we can do is dance the pain away as he calls one last time to “kiss me, I don’t care” and launches into a celebratory, futuristic minute-long breakdown of steady drums and glitched synths.

“Burnt Out Star” brings the listener back to Pond’s psychedelic roots as they gently glide into a mystical soundscape of twinkles and Jay Watson serenading the listener through the chorus. Similar to their 2015 song “Zond,” which is about a failed Soviet space mission, Pond once again makes allusion to Cold War symbology and the eventual collapse of the Soviet Union through cryptic and symbolic lyrics in “Burnt Out Star.” Repeatedly shouting “1917,” the year of the Russian Revolution; referencing Jakarta, Indonesia’s capital 

whose architecture is inspired by the Soviet Union

; and the title, “Burnt Out Star,” can be associated with the star found on the flag of the Soviet Union. The end of the song implies that our current world political system may not be too far off from the treacherous turmoil that the Soviet Union faced — “Yeah, it’s 1917, 1917.”

Self-aware of current social, political, and environmental crises, 

 is ultimately a beautifully crafted sister album to 

that paints streaks of optimism in an otherwise pessimistic looking future. Strong bass, powerful guitar, catchy and fresh beats, and their most cognizant lyrics yet lead 

 as Pond’s strongest album to date. Ultimately, Pond is the only band that could make dancing to our graves so much damn fun and that is exactly what they have done on 

Pond is at its best with new full-length ‘Tasmania’

15 years after politically charged masterpiece 

was released, Radiohead’s social commentary has never been more relevant. The paranoia, cynicism, and hopelessness that tied the album to the Bush administration’s perniciousness seem like small fry compared to the ever-looming doomsday of the current Trump administration. While Radiohead albums are always meticulously perfected from a musical standpoint, 

stands out as the most intentionally outspoken about the United States and U.K.’s politics.

‘2+2=5,’ a phrase popularized by George Orwell’s dystopian novel 

is a mantra that epitomizes those in power dictating what constitutes objective truth. As the first song on 

Radiohead sets the precedent for living out Orwell’s nightmare. The people no longer have any power as “It’s the Devil’s way now / There is no way out” because the masses have not been “payin’ attention.” The song begins slowly with Yorke’s calm vocals paired with a smooth guitar melody and a quick tempo backtrack that escalates into a musical explosion of harsh electric guitar, drums, and yelling to “hail to the thief”— mirroring how political change started slowly and is now seemingly filled with endless chaos.

Immediately following the established paradigm of ‘2+2=5,’ the listener is commanded to “Walk into the jaws of hell” where they must continuously “Sit down, stand up.” And, as the current president also reminds us with his 

boasting the United State’s nuclear capabilities, Yorke sings, “We can wipe you out anytime.”

‘Sail to the Moon,’ filled with brooding piano and a slower tempo than the chaos of ‘2+2=5’ and ‘Sit Down, Stand Up,’ sheds a glimmer of hope. Defeated, having “spoke to soon,” Yorke sings that “Maybe you’ll be president / But know right from wrong.”

In ‘Go to Sleep,’ the apathy of the masses has disastrous consequences. It is clear through Yorke’s sarcastic tone when he sings “We don’t really want a monster taking over,” people do not do what it really takes to stop the monster as they all “go to sleep.”

‘Backdrifts’ immediately snaps back to the demoralized view in which our society has backtracked. As stated by Yorke in the 

, “It is about the slide backwards that is happening everywhere you look. There was a time when everybody sort of felt like maybe the world was progressing and maybe we were getting better, sort of understanding other people, you know, that there was a high level of tolerance and compassion and so on. And then someone literally flicked a switch and the light went on and everybody just scurried for the dark.” In the 15 years in between the release of the song, progress seemed to be regained, but has again taken even further steps backwards with the current administration, as institutionalized racism and human rights violations run rampant throughout our country.

Halfway through the album, ‘The Gloaming,’ with unsettling electronic backtracks recorded in the 

sessions, is the official signifier that “Your alarm bells / they should be ringing” as the “genie let out of the bottle / It is now the witching hour,” with the Afghan War setting the tone of darkness and panic which has continued to loom to this day. Perhaps the most eerie song on the album, ‘The Gloaming’ isn’t the type of blaring warning heard on 

s ‘Idioteque’ that yells to save “women and children first,” but manifests as the subtly traumatic feeling when your mind perceives everything in slow motion as the world slowly darkens.

In the energized and punchy ‘Myxomatosis,’ a vicious disease intentionally given to control the rabbit population of Australia in the mid 20th century transforms into a metaphor for the mass control the government has over its citizens. Even those who speak out have their words “edited, fucked up / Strangled, beaten up,” mirroring the way in which Trump twists words to create a facade of the truth being “fake news.”

The album’s last song, ‘A Wolf at the Door,’ perfectly encapsulates the complete shitshow that the world continues to manifest. The flawless ending to the album explicitly narrates the paranoia that becomes second nature as a response to a merciless, corrupt government that “Knives you in the neck / Kicks you in the teeth.”

Ultimately, though, the thief to whom the nation is hailing has transformed 15 years later into a much bigger, badder, wolf who is no longer simply kept at the door. Instead, he’s ruling our nation.

Radiohead’s ‘Hail to the Thief’ turns 15

August 1, 2018 at Blue Hills Bank Pavilion

Individuals expecting to come to a regular concert during David Byrne’s sold out performance at the Blue Hills Bank Pavilion would come to be pleasantly surprised as soon as the night began. With Byrne claiming that his current tour supporting his first solo album in 14 years, 

” since the Talking Heads’ 1984 documentary 

the bar was set incredibly high. Having seen Byrne and St. Vincent during their 

tour in Hollywood following their 2012 collaborative album, I had already caught a glimpse of the musical genius and his dynamic stage presence.

As the lights came on, a seated David Byrne appeared alone, brain in hand. Beginning the set with ‘Here,’ Byrne began gesturing to the different lobes of the brain and narrating “Here is a region of abundant details / Here is a region that is seldom used” with his index finger pointing to a different area with each new descriptor. As he stood up from the yellow chair and moonwalked with the brain still in his grasp, his two main backup singers appeared out of the chain curtain that lined the back of the stage and began interpretive dancing.

Immediately following the humble and relatively quiet start of ‘Here,’ Byrne’s 12-piece band, barefoot and grey suited, leapt out of the darkness and launched into ‘Lazy,’ a song that encouraged the audience of mostly middle-aged white people to fly out of their seats and start dancing. The band continued to sway with the rhythm, and the backup singers continued interpretive dancing as David Byrne was brought out a guitar as white as his hair.

Ending the ironically energetic ten minutes of ‘Lazy,’ the crowd gained even more momentum as the band accelerated into the 1979 Talking Heads hit ‘I Zimbra,’ with lyrics consisting of literal nonsensical gibberish. With the band and Byrne moving and dancing with tribal-like choreography, they went from one Talking Heads song into the next. As the mobile band brought out even more bongos for ‘Slippery People,’ flashing lights accompanying the funky beat highlighted Byrne’s complex dance moves.

Having been inspired by his tour with St. Vincent, it was perfectly fitting for him to play a song from their collaborative album. A purple tinted glow illuminated Byrne from the right side of the stage as if he were watching television in a completely darkened room as the band stayed in the shadows for ‘I Should Watch TV.’ With blaring horns and the lyrics, “I feel it moving in my arms and fingers / Touch me and feel happy,” Byrne rolled up his sleeve and slapped his inner elbow, mimicking the movement of a heroin user who is about to inject the drug.

Byrne then performed ‘Dogs Mind,’ a bold critique of current U.S. President Donald Trump, and afterwards took a moment to tell the audience about 

, a volunteer organization that goes to music festivals and registers people to vote on the spot. He urged the audience to vote in every election, no matter how big or small.

Hopping back into the music, Byrne and his band performed ‘Everybody’s Coming to My House,’ followed by the Talking Heads classic, ‘This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody).’ During the lyrics “Love me til’ my heart stops” Byrne and the band all looked at their watches in silence for 5 seconds until the beat kicked back up. This comedic moment lended itself well to the next Talking Heads song, ‘Once in a Lifetime,’ during which Byrne stumbled across the stage, looking disheveled and confused, singing the lines “And you may ask yourself, well / How did I get here?”

Introducing ‘Toe Jam,’ Byrne described how he originally worked on the song with Fatboy Slim and rapper Dizzee Rascal, suggesting everyone check out the NSFW 

. Once the song ended, Byrne took a moment to tell the audience that everything they were hearing was not pre-recorded but was, in fact, live and coming from himself and the 12-piece band they saw in front of them. Following band introductions, the beat picked up for ‘Born Under Punches (The Heat Goes On),’ another Talking Heads song that the man standing next to me had said he was hoping to hear that night.

For ‘I Dance Like This,’ I couldn’t help but laugh at the satirical nature of the dance moves. Considering the meticulously calculated choreography for the rest of the set, Byrne and his band purposefully performed awkwardly robotic dance moves while singing “I dance like this / Because it feels so damn good / If I could dance better / Well, you know that I would.” Once again effectively cutting the music for 5 seconds, the band awkwardly fist pumped – mimicking the only dance move that so many Americans know.

The humor of ‘I Dance Like This,’ was followed with the poignant ‘Bullet,’ during which Byrne stood alone on the stage illuminated by a single lamp that glided away towards the end of the song. For ‘Blind,’ lights were projected from the bottom of the stage so that Byrne and the band members’ shadows were projected onto the chain curtain behind them. Stepping closer and further away from the light, the shadows would shrink and grow into giant-sized silhouettes. This simple but nonetheless amazing optical illusion left me and the audience in awe.

With not one, but two encores, the show ended with a powerful cover of Janelle Monáe’s ‘Hell You Talmbout,’ in which Byrne and the band screamed to “Say their names!” each time after they listed the name of an African American who had been killed by the police in the recent years. Using his platform as a musician for activism, Byrne ended his set by encouraging people to remember the names of individuals like Michael Brown and Sandra Bland.

After an energetic and powerful performance, one would never guess that David Byrne is 66 years old, as he has still has the energy to keep the groove flowing for over an hour straight without stop. In what could best be described as ambitious performance art, Byrne and his 12-piece band delivered a stunning performance with an articulately crafted setlist spanning from his work with the Talking Heads to his solo career and collaborative albums. Showcasing his talent and his passion, Byrne not only put on a great show, but also brought attention to important current issues such as voting and police brutality.

David Byrne’s Performance Art, Activism, and Nonstop Groove

Beach House’s sound is immediately recognizable with each new release, yet Legrand and Scally maintain freshness and originality that is undeniable on their most recent album.

Victoria Legrand and Alex Scally, the modern dream-pop masterminds behind Beach House, continue to keep listeners refreshed with their ever-evolving sound, yet distinct style that is stronger than ever with their newest and fittingly titled seventh album, 

, a treat for both dedicated Beach House listeners and fresh ears, the band continues to deliver unique sounds within their perfectly crafted soundscape. Their first single from the album, “Lemon Glow,” released on Valentine’s Day this year, gives listeners a taste into the mystical and romantic sound that flows through the entirety of 

. Beach House’s sound is immediately recognizable with each new release, yet Legrand and Scally maintain freshness and originality that is undeniable on their most recent album.

Beginning the album with “Dark Spring,” riveting drumming launches the listener into the melancholy world in which “the color’s missing,” yet it nonetheless remains beautiful and articulately crafted. Filled with psychedelic echoed guitar that resembles early shoegaze, Legrand’s voice floats along with each touch of the keyboard guiding her.

The end of “Dark Spring” transitions flawlessly into “Pay No Mind,” with the echoed guitar of the former revolving straight into the complimentary chords that begin the latter. With a steady and slow drum rhythm, Legrand’s articulate singing with interspersed clear guitar strumming and echoed humming makes “Pay No Mind” one of the dreamiest songs of the album.

“Lemon Glow,” transports the listener’s senses to a velvety smooth and romantic vibe immediately following the melancholy of “Dark Spring” and “Pay No Mind.” Beginning with reverberated keyboard rhythms, Legrand clearly sings about “when you turn the lights down low / Lemon color honey glow,” allowing one to feel the warmth and imagine the dimly lit romantic setting. Following the sensual lyrics is an incredible guitar hook that will surely echo through minds for days to come. The track is ultimately the highlight of the album that demonstrates the musical beauty that Legrand and Scally are continually capable of producing.

In “L’Inconnue,” French for “the unknown,” Legrand begins with doubled vocals that mimics a religious choir and eventually weaves into minimalist guitar. The song evolves as Legrand sings in French, and proves just when you thought Beach House couldn’t get any dreamier, they do. Transitioning back into English alongside a steady and traditional Beach House keyboard rhythm, the song begins layering on itself with French and English singing accompanying each other with choir-like echoes and the occasional steady drumbeats gliding until the end of the song fades out.

After the innocence of “L’Inconnue,” the band puts its own depressing spin on the timeless yet worn out story of the darkness of Los Angeles in “Drunk in LA.” The song does not progress into much more than Legrand singing of how she is “loving losing life” with a steady keyboard beat and drawn out guitar, and is moreover the weakest song on the album.

“Dive,” another single previously released for the album, begins slowly as a tease and then dives into guitar rhythms and up-tempo drumming that cover previously uncharted territory for the band with almost surf rock-esque effects and a faster-than-usual tempo. The eventual pace of the song is the perfect pick-up in the middle of 

 and is a refreshing new sound for the band that proves they have more than a few tricks up their sleeves in regards to creating new sounds.

The final single of the album, “Black Car,” begins with an almost ring-tone resembling rhythm that is picked up by both a solid drumbeat and heavy synth that unfurls with Legrand’s dreamy voice. The song remains steady as elements of synth, keyboard, drums, and singing layer continuously and eventually fade out as slowly as they were introduced. While slow, the song has a uniquely mysterious and dark feel that make it yet another glowing song of the album.

In “Lose Your Smile,” the song begins with an acoustic guitar – a rarity for Beach House that makes it all the more special. Reminiscent of guitar off Beck’s 

 the crisp acoustic sound pairs with Legrand’s voice in a way previously unmatched as the duality of the acoustics and the echoed singing creating a heavenly scene filled with “Sunshine in the rain” where “Dreams, baby, do come true.”

“Woo” starts off sounding like a new-wave hit resembling the likes of Nena’s “99 Red Balloons,” but immediately launches into a combination of both 80’s synth and dream pop that only Beach House could pull off. The final two songs of the album, “Girl of the Year” and “Last Ride,” ease listeners gracefully out of the dark and melancholy world of 

 and bring them back to reality – a reality in which there could never be enough Beach House to satisfy one’s listening.

 is a silky, irresistible album that will keep listeners in love (and depressed) for as long as they are tuned in and long afterwards. The glow of the album is sure to radiate on, as it is a testament to the way in which Victoria Legrand and Alex Scally manage to continually create new sounds while maintaining the magic that comes with each new Beach House release.

Beach House release full-length ‘7’

After a five year break from making new music, MGMT have returned with their latest album, 

— a dystopian glimpse into the technology-ruled present. From their humble beginnings at Wesleyan University, to their 2007 release of 

, with hits like ‘Time to Pretend’ and ‘Kids,’ that captured the mentality of a disillusioned youth that launched them into fame, Andrew VanWyngarden and Ben Goldwasser have certainly come a long way as the disillusioned youth have grown up. 

Although filled with ups and downs, the disenchantment is clear as the album is poignant enough to make the listener think twice about their daily phone usage. The singles released before the album officially dropped, ‘Little Dark Age,’ ‘When You Die,’ ‘Hand it Over,’ and ‘Me and Michael,’ are the shining gems of the album that could have composed a flawless EP. Unfortunately, the addition of songs such as ‘She Works Out Too Much’ and ‘When You’re Small’ rip a black hole into what otherwise would have been a fantastic record.

Starting off the album with the weakest song, ‘She Works Out Too Much,’ was the first fatal flaw in 

With a campy, stale electronic beat that launches into what sounds like an obnoxious 80s aerobics instructor, I immediately cringed and felt all hope was lost in the album. The song rhythm remains uninteresting but lyrics like “Welcome to the shitshow / Grab a comfortable seat / Find me in the front row / Listening to music / Anyone can see” fit the overall frustrated theme of being fed up with technology’s omnipresence.

Immediately following the shitshow of ‘She Works Out Too Much,’ is a streak of gold beginning with ‘Little Dark Age,’ the title track of the album that sounds like a revamped 80s synth-pop hit that’s as New Wave as MGMT gets. The memorable bass line that kicks off the song compliments the catchy beat that flows throughout along with VanWyngarden’s articulate singing of the powerfully disturbing lyrics such as “The feelings start to rot / One wink at a time” and reminders that “I know that if you hide / It doesn’t go away” in this little dark age of deteriorating connections.

Next, ‘When You Die,’ which was originally released accompanying its visually stunning psychedelic music video, is a beautifully crafted nihilistic perspective that is another highlight of the album. The confrontational lyrics composed with twangy guitar lends itself to explosive lines telling the listener to “Go fuck yourself,” harshly reminding, “Don’t you have somewhere to be at seven-thirty?” and “We’ll all be laughing with you when you die.” The dark overtones not only fit perfectly in the overall theme of the album, but also effectively draw the listener into the hell we’ve presently created.

After the depressing journey in ‘When You Die,’ ‘Me and Michael’ provides some comic relief along with a shamelessly catchy hook. Almost indistinguishable from a cheesy 80s love ballad to be played at middle school dances, the heavy synthesizer playfully bops along as VanWyngarden sings of a hilariously ambiguous story of “Me and Michael / Solid as they come.” With a chorus sure to be endlessly stuck in your head for days, ‘Me and Michael’ is the third gem of the album that will have you singing along in no time.

Following the fade out in ‘Me and Michael,’ another incredibly catchy song is born – the abbreviation ‘TSLAMP,’ short for “Time Spent Looking At My Phone,” is the song that will (hopefully) make you the most introspective about your phone usage. Condemningly funny, the lyrics narrate the gloomy plight millenials are all too familiar with, “Find me when the lights go out / Signing in signing out” and hilariously, “Gods descend to take me home / Find me staring at my phone.” With sprinkled in spanish guitar and dial tones, there’s nothing left to do but laugh at the tragedy MGMT have so eloquently portrayed.

‘James,’ a song with almost identical vocals to Ariel Pink, is a sweet tribute to MGMT’s touring guitarist James Richardson written during a day long acid bender, but nonetheless does not fit the overall theme of the album. ‘Days That Got Away,’ on the other hand, snaps the listener back into dystopian cyberspace with a slow rhythm in which the listener feels as if they can vaguely remember those days that got away – probably because of all the time spent looking at their phone. ‘One Thing Left to Try,’ the least memorable song on the album, sounds like the 80s song everyone forgot about, and for good reason. The unoriginal synth matches the angsty lyrics with “Fear is his name but his friends still call him God” and “I don’t wanna die!”

The string of forgettable songs from ‘James’ through ‘One Thing Left to Try’ leads to the stand-out most pathetic song on album, ‘When You’re Small,’ that yet again tanks the album from a solid five out of five to a three out of five light bulbs. When looking up the lyrics, it’s not a coincidence that there so happens to be a Phineas and Ferb song by the same title. The childish lyrics, “When you’re small / You’re not very big at all” and “When you’re small / You can curl up into a ball” sound like they’re straight out of a Disney cartoon. However, lines like “When you’re high / You don’t have to know why” are a triumph for stoned high schoolers sitting in their mom’s basement. The duality within this song is not only childish, but it is quite literally garbage alongside boring piano and guitar chords.

The final song, and saving grace of the album, ‘Hand it Over,’ is the perfect depressing wrap up of the extensive journey MGMT takes the listener through in our modern technological age. VanWyngarden’s somber voice serenades us into accepting that all hope is lost and that “Now there’s only one thing left to do / It’s time to hand it over.” Tragically and effectively using a theatrical metaphor, “The smart ones exit early / And the rest hope for a shoulder,” MGMT ends the album with a powerfully suicidal song.

Overall, MGMT have exquisitely crafted a few songs that caution the listener about the modern day and age but fail to be completely cohesive. With one too many songs that either don’t fit or are complete trash, what could have been an impeccable EP is ultimately a disjointed fourth album.

MGMT releases full-length ‘Little Dark Age’

Of all of Panda Bear’s discography, the emotions this album evokes are the most relevant to our modern day existence.

Teasing his new album through releasing all five of the songs’ lyrics on social media in November, and then officially announcing the details of the vinyl-only release of 

 Noah Lennox (Panda Bear) was quick to wean out those who would give this album a shallow listening. Having seen him perform the new songs in October at Desert Daze Music Festival, it was almost ominous to watch people dance to the dark lyrics that filled the desert while his grotesquely disturbing visuals dominated the screen behind him. Thumping bass and twisting colors morphing into a female with blacked-out eyes was the backdrop for tripping concertgoers, unaware of the power of Lennox’s words.

The anticipation of going out to buy the record, unwrapping the plastic wrap, putting the record on, and listening to the album for the first time in its entirety while reading along with the lyrics printed on the vinyl sleeve is an experience most do not have in our technological age. This process, particularly hearing the album over speakers and not through headphones, is exactly what Lennox intended.

cuts right to the chase with no room for fluff or slow psychedelia heard in previous albums such as 

which had two songs that are over twelve minutes long. The lyrics and sounds hint at gritty and industrial undertones that mimic the terror of the age we are living in today. Of all of Panda Bear’s discography, the emotions this album evokes are the most relevant to our modern day existence.

In the opening track ‘Flight,’ the wind literally picks up the beat of the song as crickets present a duality between the sounds of nature and the heavy manipulated bass that begins as soon as Lennox’s echoed voice is introduced. The cheerful beat throughout the song makes lines like “Falling asleep at the wheel” and “Took a sock to the socket / We got a black eye” seem like a lively carnival when presented alongside more positively associated lines such as “We got the good crew” and “Tossing out a horseshoe.” The ending of the song at first appears that it’s giving the listener a sweet send off with “All good wishes / Wishes to you” but takes an unforgiving turn with the last few lines that imply peoples’ true, selfish nature, “We don’t share at all / Why are we telling them to share it all.”

Right as the listener is getting used to the white noise of crickets chirping in the wind at the end of ‘Flight,’ a harsh guitar strum comes in like a gong and phases in and out as ‘Part of the Math,’ the highlight of the album, begins. The tension and power builds in the song as a quick tempo commences, and Lennox gradually adds new layers of ample bass and rhythms, keeping the listener on their toes craving for what is next. What begins as a multitude of parts sync together seamlessly with the launch of Lennox’s voice. The irresistible club-like bass is ironically contrasted with the lyrics directly narrating, and seemingly mocking, the listener: “You dance / Get yer cocktail on,” which darkly flashes forward to “Now we’re blacking out,” then briefly after, “You’re dead meat / In a chilling freeze.”

Reminiscent of Bret Easton Ellis’ novels depicting the meaninglessness that fills our everyday lives in which we attempt to supplement with shallow partying and trivial interactions, Lennox reminds us with satirical lyrics how “We’re all deities / Washed up in a sewage leak.” While we may feel invincible, it is important to remember we are all ‘part of the math’ and have no more value than “An animal / A mineral / A vegetable / An abacus.” The outro of the song is incredibly powerful as a woman repeats the mantra “Open your eyes,” commanding us to be more present and see what is really happening around us while a nostalgic harmonica serenades us to the end of the first side of the record.

‘Shepard Tone’ – an auditory illusion of a tone that continually ascends or descends in pitch, yet which ultimately seems to get no higher or lower – is a fitting title for the third song, as it’s a very intense sound that creates tension for the listener. The beginning of side two rattles the listener with immediate helicopter vibrations, fast tempos, and mortar-like bass that could be the soundtrack to a warzone. Paired with lyrics such as “Like a stinking bog,” “In the thick of the wicked / There’s a little blood” and a reference to the Watergate scandal with “Deep Throat,” it’s hard to imagine anything but the turmoil surrounding the Vietnam War. Lennox effectively creates a powerful soundscape that represents the anxiety of the era, a feeling that is becoming all too familiar again today.

Seemingly after the war of ‘Shepard Tone,’ ‘Nod to the Folks,’ begins with what initially sounds like the Shepard tone but fades into the sound of a siren wailing and continues throughout the entirety of the song. Gradually, substantial beats are laid over the siren as Lennox’s voice is brought down an octave to create another soundscape: a post-apocalyptic scene in which everything that is happening “isn’t a joke,” but there is nothing else to do but “nod to the folks” in acknowledgement of the chaos that is unraveling.

The fifth and final song of the record, ‘Sunset,’ has an up-tempo that stands out from the rest of the album balanced with deep bass. The song includes some of Panda Bear’s impressive voice inflections that can be heard on previous albums and in his work with Animal Collective, but there are also elements that he had previously not explored until 

such as incorporating a clear harmonica. Whereas the rest of the songs in the album fade into one another, the album ends fiercely with the sudden stopping of the tempo. Just as the sun goes down and ends the day, the album ends with a strong beat that allows the listener to look forward to the night to come.

is filled with dualities, complexities, and layers that require a thorough repeated listening (over speakers) that only gets better as more is revealed. I agree with the decision to make it a vinyl-only release, as I feel much of the power would be lost had I not gone through the ritual of buying, putting on the record, and hearing it through my speakers. Easily distinguishable from his past albums, Lennox pursues a clear sound that results in his best album to date. In the current state of our nation, the emotions evoked through listening to the album are both relatable and apparent.

Panda Bear releases EP ‘A Day With the Homies’

[three_fourth]As the crowd shuffled into Brighton Music Hall on a rather chilly fall evening, special guest Jacques (the opener and a semi-member of La Femme) was already bumping homemade rhythms composed through the manipulation of the various complicated musical keyboards and mixing equipment which were tangled around him. The first thing everyone noticed about Jacques was his haircut – he had short blonde hair on the sides but a (purposeful) bald strip through the middle of his head. As Jacques turned the knobs on his mixing board, his two-sided hair jiggled along with his funky dance moves. With every forceful foot stomp and arm rotation, his facial expression would change; from sticking his tongue out, to grinning like a child, to making a disgruntled face that depended on every beat of the bass: Jacques embodied the funky tunes he was producing.

It didn’t take long for the crowd to pick up on Jacques’ groovy vibes – as more and more people began to fill up the venue, their heads began bobbing along. As I turned to glance around I realized that the female lead singer of La Femme, Clémence Quélennec, was standing next to me, grooving along to the music and swaying from side to side. Before I knew it, the entire crowd had picked up the beat and was moving along as well – something that is usually rare for an opening band to achieve. As I looked back towards the stage, I realized that the sounds Jacques was mixing were actually a concoction of recordings of obscure objects making noise such as a chicken doll squeaking, scissors cutting, and dropping a metal chain into a metal bowl, and then adding effects onto them and looping them on top of heavy electronic bass. At one point Clémence Quélennec jumped on stage, grabbed a guitar, and started improvising guitar riffs to match the beats Jacques was creating. Marlon Magnée, the male lead singer and one of the keyboardist of La Femme, also joined in with a guitar. The momentum of the crowd’s energy was already unstoppable and La Femme had not even officially started their set.

As Jacques’ set ended and La Femme’s set began, they wasted no time diving into the first song, ‘Sphynx,’ from their most recent album, 

. Fitting for a song about dancing while tripping on acid, the crowd was dancing in a collective manner that seemed as if everyone was experiencing a heightened state of consciousness. The steady keyboard allowed for seamless transitions in the song that escalated the crowd’s swaying into full blown movement as more layers of synth were added on top of the guitar rhythm. Quélennec’s silky voice serenaded the listeners as she gracefully danced on stage, her arms moving effortlessly while the subtle glitter on her face and neck reflected the soft purple lighting being projected onto the stage. Caught up in the current of her arms the front row reciprocated her movements like the tide pulling the ocean.

For their third song, ‘Où va le monde,’ it took only the first strum of the guitar to summon shouts of excitement from the crowd. Magnée took the mic from its stand and stepped away from his keyboard. He approached the edge of the stage, getting incredibly close to myself and the rest of the onlookers. As he twirled his hands along to the chord progressions of the song, he was practically touching the audience. Hearing the mostly English-speaking fans try to sing along was almost comical. Thankfully, the music was loud enough to drown out the garbled attempt at French from the crowd.

La Femme surprised the audience with a new song, ‘Cool Colorado,’ and everyone reacted with the same excitement that they had shown with their favorite hits. There was not a single lull in the synchronized dancing throughout the entire crowd. Immediately following their new song, the crowd only momentarily paused for the intro of ‘Exorciseur.’ Towards the middle of the song, Quélennec busted out some insane raps in French that once again rallied the crowd into cheering and clapping. Shortly after the end of ‘Exorciseur,’ ‘Sur La Planche,’ a hit song off of 2013’s 

, started with the recognizable steady drum kick and the crowd once again started shouting out of excitement. As the song progressed, people in the crowd began jumping to the beat and clapping along to the rhythm. The fast pace of the song lended itself to more rapid dance moves by both the band and the audience.

For a change of pace following ‘Sur La Planche’ and ‘Nous etions deux,’ La Femme performed what they called a “country song” with a slower drum beat and softer guitar melodies. The slowness of the song was perfectly timed for everyone to catch their breath after dancing like maniacs – but the break didn’t last very long. Jacques made a special appearance for the last few songs of La Femme’s set, playing backup guitar and seemingly improvising along with the songs.

When La Femme exited the stage after a solid set of 15 songs, the crowd was not ready for them to be done. Everyone began chanting ‘Ole! Ole! Ole! Ole!’ to encourage the band to come out for an encore, it became very clear that it was only a matter of time before they returned to the stage. The two encore songs, ‘Vagues’ and ‘Antitaxi,’ were polar opposites but entirely complementary in pace and the crowd reacted as such. ‘Vagues,’ meaning “waves” in English, caused the audience to sway back and forth as if being taken up by waves in the ocean. Everyone raised their arms and moved them side to side along with Jacques who was leading the crowd’s movement from the window above the stage. The softness of the song was truly the calm before the storm of ‘Antitaxi,’ one of La Femme’s most climactic songs that was a perfect ending to their hour and a half long set. By the end of the show the crowd was sweating profusely from nonstop vigorous dancing for the entirety of the show – from Jacques’ experimental opening set through La Femme’s psychedelic tunes. La Femme managed to keep everyone moving even with their slower songs; if people weren’t dancing like there was no tomorrow, they were swaying along to the music. Overall, Jacques and La Femme’s show at Brighton Music Hall was the most exciting and energetic show I have been to in the past year, with a crowd that was just as enthusiastic as the musicians.

La Femme @ Brighton Music Hall

Introducing himself first as, “the tomato,” Kathryn Garcia of WRBB was able to interview keyboardist of La Femme, Nunez Hijo, after their show at Brighton Music Hall on October 26, 2017.

[three_fourth]I was able to catch La Femme last weekend at Desert Daze, you were wearing a bandana and everyone had very funky outfits. How would you compare the crowds at Desert Daze versus at the show tonight in Boston?

It was very dusty. My character was Dusty Man, it was some serious bull shit. The crowd was very cool! At Desert Daze, it was in the desert with festival people, and it was not the first day of the festival, so I think everyone was doing California things, but here it was super cool, people killed it. There was a different mood, at Desert Daze it was a lot more psychedelic and more funky. We mentioned taking mushrooms at the festival before we played the song “Mycose” because it means mushroom in French – there are good and bad mushrooms! At night we took mushrooms with some really good salsa and we really liked it.

Speaking of French, how is it performing and singing for audiences that do not speak French?

We love it because people sing like yogurt when they are at our concert. You know? Like when I try to sing “Satisfaction” by Rolling Stones, people do this for our concert. I love it! (

mimicks people attempting to sing in French

). It is fun for us because we do this all the time for other bands that come to France from the U.S., UK, Australia, or South Africa, etc. We never heard that in reverse, not many French bands are international, so it is very cool [to hear people sing along from a different language].

Orgie de gobelins sous champignons hallucinogènes

,” and the style is very different from the usual surf rock sound heard in previous La Femme albums – it sounds almost like a country song with the twangy guitar and banjo. What inspired this change of sound?

Orgy of goblins in magic mushrooms! It was fun because Sacha and I had a concept; in Japan sometimes people work so hard that they take naps in coffee shops, so we dressed up like Japanese business men and pretended to take naps in random places. People asked us “are you ok?” and we would just say “agh I need to sleep man!” Sacha came up with the song idea, he is really into country music. We played one of his country songs tonight. We like to make music that you don’t expect. We want to give you some surprise because we don’t want to play the same thing forever. We are experimental, every kind of instrument is important – different moods, styles, it’s all important. We are like a kind of book, but to listen. It’s a story.

Tonight, every single person in the audience was dancing; Your music is so easy to dance to. Do you ever have crowds or particular people that don’t dance at your shows?

Yeah, there are certain people that don’t like to dance. There is this one guy I know who really doesn’t like music, which is very weird to me because I love music. Maybe he prefers the sound of the wind. You can dance to the wind, you can dance to anything, there is music in everything. You saw with Jacques, he can make you dance with scissors, with a bowl, with anything! It’s a good lesson.

What bands would you say inspired the surf-rock style of La Femme?

We listen to music from the ’60s from every country, we are not just listening to American or French music. I love The Spits, the punk rock band. If you have all night, I would tell you all of the bands, but we don’t, so that’s it! So, you listen to me, listen to all music!

If you could collaborate with any band, living or dead, who would they be?

I would love to collaborate with Die Antwoord because they have a very interesting style and I really like it. As for a dead person, GG Allin, or with The Shaggs.