REVIEWS [ALBUMS]

something to behold and at least occasionally admire. the lyric sheet, by necessity, explains which character is speaking when, and Meloy has employed a pair of ladies—My Brightest Diamond’s Shara Worden and Lavender Diamond’s Becky Stark—to give voice to the queen and Margaret, respectively. Worden’s commanding pipes, somewhere between PJ harvey’s and Lita ford’s, require the band to add serious musical force, which results in some of the snarliest, bluesiest, rockingest moments in the Decemberists’ catalog. But it’s jarring, because they just aren’t as adept at anger as they are at whimsy. “the rake’s Song,” voiced by Meloy, growls similarly—which is no wonder, considering it tells the villain’s horrific backstory, in which he murders his offspring. (Don’t worry, they return as a choir on “the hazards of Love 3 [revenge!]” to get even.)

things come down to earth for the hauntingly sweet “Isn’t It a Lovely Night?” and “Annan Water,” two rare moments where the band settles for simple prettiness. But there’s no obvious single here to inspire sing-alongs or reward those not invested in the broader mood. It’s all or nothing, and the former requires concentration and patience. to use one of those fading words that Meloy is so fond of, The Hazards of Love feels like a gambit, with the Decemberists betting that increased bombast and literary aspiration will make up for decreased attention to pop craft. It’s a hazardous bet that yields spectacular sparks but ultimately asks for much more than it’s willing to give.

Amadou & Mariam
Welcome to Mali

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MYSPACE AMAZON
West African twosome
get thrillingly eclectic
In 2005, Dimanche a
Bamako served as this
blind Malian couple’s
international breakout,
but producer Manu Chao’s
contributions—found-sound
snippets, liberal use of his
own vocals—sometimes
overshadowed them. The
follow-up (without Chao)
is a more straightforward
Afro-pop record, with a
few exceptions: Damon
Albarn mans the controls
for “Sabali,” a wonderfully
strange bit of electro pop
that floats Mariam’s voice
high above waves of synth
arpeggios; and on “Africa,”
Somali rapper K’naan ogles
his homeland’s curves over
Amadou’s buoyant guitar
line. LINDSEY THOMAS

AMADOU & MARIAM

all traces of art from Led Zeppelin’s template. So while not averse to Free blooze or Thin Lizzy beauty, their groove more often recalls second-tier Zepalikes: the Cult, Whitesnake, Soundgarden when slogging and moaning, Fastway when speeding and stomping. Their chops aren’t superhuman, and groupie-trouble ballads drown Cormac Neeson’s high wail. But when they up the tempos, they kick it. Closer “Evil Man” is a hilarious heavy hitter—with a hoedown inside. CHUCK EDDY

rapid success, scoring a U.S. deal via tourmates Tegan and Sara and placing a song (the jagged, confident “Postcards”) in a Mercedes commercial. Kate Cooper’s tales of awkward, broken love and chronic miscom-munication don’t seem ripe for selling sedans, but her reedy voice and zippy melodic guitar, plus drummer Damon Cox’s imperfect harmonies, keep things from getting too depressing.

Clever/corny lines—“Like that good Hole album / I can live through this”—add levity, too. J. GABRIEL BOYLAN

An Horse Rearrange Beds

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MYSPACE AMAZON
Spunky Aussies churn up
a poignant fervor
Started in the basement of
an indie record shop, this
clever and efficient Austra-
lian duo have experienced

The Answer Everyday Demons

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MYSPACE AMAZON
U.K. boogie boys sell
reconstituted sanctuary
Unveiled to classic-rock-
starved Americans on last
fall’s AC/DC tour, these randy
young Irishmen subtract

Asobi Seksu
Hush

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MYSPACE AMAZON
Loveless children mature
into ultracool geeks, natch
This Brooklyn group’s
previous albums established
them as shoegaze con-
fectioners, molding candy
swirls out of Yuki Chikudate’s
soaring, translucent voice
and guitarist James Hanna’s
Kevin Shields–worshiping
production. But here, Asobi
Seksu do something My
Bloody Valentine can’t—
leave Shields behind. “Sing
Tomorrow’s Praise” and
“Me & Mary” evoke iciness
over icing, with more

Deacon and pal

Yorick enjoy a lovely Baltimore Sunday.

Yo Gabba Gabba
Off-the-grid scamp turns playfully serious composer

I f you’re the sort of lapsed grad student who wears Super Mario t-shirts
and freaks the fuck out at art spaces in emerging neighborhoods, then Dan
Deacon is already your electro-punk party hoss par excellence. But when
the winningly pudgy Baltimorean isn’t pogoing amongst the masses—as
tinny eight-bit beats chatter like an orgy of chipmunk ringtones—is his
Saturday-morning-cartoon concerto worth getting up for?
on 2007’s Spiderman of the Rings, that moment of worthiness was “Wham
City,” a sweetly cacophonous 11-minute-plus crescendo to a defiant nursery-
rhyme chant. And it’s also the aesthetic jump-off for Bromst, which mixes
electronics with live percussion, brass, vibraphone, player piano,
marimba, etc., to deepen the nods to Steve reich’s minimalist throb
and chime while winking at the choral psych pop of Mercury rev and
the Polyphonic Spree. “Snookered” is the centerpiece—kidlike keyboard
plinks and the ambient hum of looped voices swell to a shaggy indie-
rock lope (with Deacon crooning, “Been wrong so many times before /
But never quite like this”). “of the Mountains” boasts a tribal glee, and
“Wet Wings” slows for a stunning interlude of folksy female wails.
But what about all that chipmunk chatter? oh, it still blares on.
even at his most contemplative and nuanced, Deacon remains a DIy
trickster at heart. CHARLES AARON

DAN DEACON
Bromst

•••••••••• MYSPACE AMAZON

FROM TOP : YOURI LENQUE T TE; LESSER GONZALES ALVAREZ

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