MAN TRA: Behold the
smorgasbord. “This is the
post-everything era,” says
the voluble Jim McHugh,
singer and guitarist for this
18-member-plus Athens,
Georgia collective. “Musical
protocol has been demol-
ished. Everyone’s heard a
pop song, so let’s mix one
with some free-jazz skronk.”
That kitchen-sink ethos is all
over Dark Meat’s Universal
Indians, an album of searing
psych guitar and smeared
brass. But with a galaxy of
choice, is it hard to choose?
“Aw, man,” says McHugh,
“we’re just grooving on what
makes our dicks hard.” We’ll
take his word for it.
MGMT MATERIAL: Dark
Meat trumpeter Nick
Canada has designed
MGMT T-shirts.

Deastro

MAN TRA: Randolph
Chabot (a.k.a. Deastro)
credits a forlorn friend
for motivation. “He said
new music couldn’t make
him feel anymore,” recalls
Chabot. “My songs are about
triumph over that.” Fittingly,
the gleaming Moondagger
(Ghostly), due in January,
is bursting with bubblegum
tunes and swooning vamps.
Raised in a conservative
Christian household where
pop was forbidden, this
Detroiter is finished with
“having people tell me how
to be happy. I need to find
out on my own.” Hmm, that
sounds familiar. “I just read
Siddhartha,” Chabot says.
MGMT MATERIAL: “I knew
about them when they were
still called Management,”
boasts Chabot.

Empire of the Sun

MANTRA: From his vantage
point in Perth, Australia,
Luke Steele sees the end of
an era. “The days of emo
darkness are done,” says
the frontman. “It’s time to
celebrate the color of life.”
The celebration is in full
swing on the band’s self-
titled debut disc, out already
in Oz and due here early
next year. On it, Steele and
bandmate Nick Littlemoore
have crafted a giddy
rainbow of multitracked
guitars, shimmering strings,
and sugary melodies. “Kids
are growing up in wartime,”
says Littlemoore. “We’ve
given them something to
feel good about.”
MGM T MATERIAL: A solo
Steele will open MGMT’s
upcoming Australian
shows.

Kuroma

MAN TRA: “The album should
sound like it came from a
ghost,” says Hank Sullivant
of Paris, his band’s debut.
Explain. “Like, I’ll take a
George Harrison guitar line
but present it in an alien
context.” There’s definitely
an otherworldly charm to
Paris’ subtle R&B swing
and Queen-ly melodies,
but it’s far from mere
pastiche. “Lots of bands try
to be adorable when they
incorporate older sounds,”
says the former Whigs
bassist. “Kuroma is a
revolution against that.”
Just don’t go carrying
pictures of Chairman Mao.
MGMT MATERIAL: An old
friend of Van Wyngarden’s,
Sullivant moonlighted for a
while as MGM T’s
touring guitarist.

Yeasayer

MANTRA: “I hate it when old
people say the best music
has already been made,”
says keyboardist-singer
Chris Keating. “Young
musicians have more
to draw from. Why not
combine Pink Floyd and
Raekwon? The best is still
to come.” Released last
year, the quartet’s All Hour
Cymbals (We Are Free) is an
argument in his favor.
But don’t use a certain four-
letter word to describe their
blend of gospel harmonies
and glinting guitars.
“We’re not prog,” jokes
Keating. “I’m too stupid to
make that music.”
MGM T MATERIAL: Recent
tourmates, the bands met
through photographer
Sam Fleischner, who shot
Oracular Spectacular’s cover.

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FROM LEFT: JAMES P. MORSE; DEBASER; NICK CANADA

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