defiant anthem; stormy rocker “Soldiers Get Strange” is almost certainly the best tune ever written about post-traumatic stress disorder; and multiple tales of warm, lonely barrooms and the warm, lonely relationships they breed uncover new truths while traversing well-trod emotional terrain. DAVID PEISNER

slaughter in spectacularly blockheaded style. DAVID MARCHESE

ELENI MANDELL

Lamb of God
Wrath

••••••••••
MYSPACE AMAZON
Punk-metal brutes reject
nuance, a.k.a. wussiness
The latest outburst of
controlled aggression from
these veteran Virginia
metallurgists proves that
consistency is a blessing
and a curse. As always, the
palm-muted jackhammer
riffs and Randy Blythe’s
elastic denunciations of
liars, hypocrites, and lying
hypocrites are frightfully
precise. Even the album’s
construction is unwaver-
ing—every fifth track opens
with delicate guitar filigrees.
But primally satisfying as
it is, the band’s meat-and-
taters thrash leaves one
hungry for some Mastodon-
style lateral thinking. Or
not: The conflation of 9/11
and ecological ruin on
“Reclamation” ends the

Madlib Beat Konducta, Vol. 5–6: A Tribute to…

••••••••••
MYSPACE AMAZON
A quirky homage to hip-
hop’s quixotic beatmaker
The ghost of the late
James “J Dilla” Yancey still
haunts Madlib, who calls
his musical comrade the
“Coltrane of Beats” on this
exuberantly melancholy
tribute. With song titles like
“In Jah’s Hands” and “Infinity
Sound,” this may be the Beat
Konducta’s most spiritual
release to date. But Madlib
has his own way of mourn-
ing, so he stocks the 42-track
odyssey with swaggering
soul loops (“Detroit Playaz”),
herb anthems (“Another Bag
of Bomb”), and Rasta poetry
(“For My Mans”). It’s the
musical equivalent of pour-
ing out a little malt liquor.
MOSI REEVES

Chrissie Hynde and PJ Harvey, but she also possesses an uncanny knack for sweetly sinister, heartsick vignettes. “God Is Love” is both brooding prayer and lament, fueled by guitarist Jeremy Drake’s staccato, scale-running riffs. Dreamy, upper-register chord changes power “In the Door way,” imbuing a blushing line like “I was dizzy, I was guilty, I wanted to confess” with manic lust and morning-after regret. The album’s rockers are a serviceable change of pace—especially “Little Foot,” which channels early, Farfisa-laced Elvis Costello—but it’s Mandell’s torch songs that ignite. SHANNON ZIMMERMAN

“Country of the Future.” But whether picking out a simple melody on kalimba (“While We Have the Sun”) or building grand layers of group chants, electric guitar growl, and mariachi horns (“The Forest”), she always sounds like she’s playing to an audience of one. LINDSEY THOMAS

Eleni Mandell Artificial Fire

••••••••••
MYSPACE AMAZON
Silver Lake chanteuse
pens intense mash notes
Eleni Mandell’s musical
coordinates obviously
include sultry sirens

Mirah (a)spera

••••••••••
MYSPACE AMAZON
She contains multitudes in
the gentlest of gestures
It’s easy to create intimacy
with just voice and guitar,
but how many artists can
squeeze a drum line into
that equation? On her fourth
album, Portland, Oregon
singer/songwriter Mirah
Yom Tov Zeitlyn expands
her sound palette, somehow
adapting a Carnival parade
for the otherwise restrained

FROM TOP: LAUREN DUKOFF; SARAH CASS

Mt. St. Helens
Vietnam Band
Mt. St. Helens Vietnam
Band

••••••••••
MYSPACE AMAZON
Excitable indie collective
earnestly earns the buzz
As befits a mixed-race,
-gender, and -generation
band, this Seattle quintet
never settles for the status
quo. Bluesy single-note
guitar lines compete with
jagged chording, the bass
thumps out counter-
melodies, strained yelping
dissolves into pastoral
harmony. Yet it all coheres
thanks to frontman
Benjamin Verdoes’ pop
instincts and the band’s
jittery energy. For now,
the music is ahead of the
ho-hum lovelorn lyrics,
and some tracks are fussy
rather than fiery, but check
the scattershot seven-min-
ute closer, “On the Collar,”
to hear how Mt. St. Helens
explodes expectations.
DAVID MARCHESE

New Found Glory Not Without a Fight

••••••••••
MYSPACE AMAZON
Irrepressible pop-punk
prats struggle to evolve
The sixth studio album from
this Florida five-piece rep-
resents a dual rebirth—it’s
their return to an indie
label and first full-length
since experimenting with
the cartoonishly thrashy
side project International
Superheroes of Hardcore.
Produced by blink-182’s
Mark Hoppus, Not Without
a Fight bobs and weaves
between chugga-chugga
riffs and poppy lead licks,
with Jordan Pudnik’s well-
meaning whine bouncing
off Chad Gilbert’s more
assertive (and appealing)
bark. On “ 47” and “Such a
Mess” in particular, they
bring a convincing ruckus,
though the boilerplate inner
turmoil seems a bit passé.
KENN Y HERZOG

moper, though. With warm, conversational vocals floating over a more ornate, less urban version of Dylan’s mid-’60s sound, Perkins’ wary resolve (“I don’t want to die / However dark tomorrow may be”) and shaky will (“I can’t hold my life”) end up hopeful rather than despairing. A ponderous chain-gang stomp and some misty lyrics outline his limitations, but once again, Perkins’ loss is our gain. DAVID MARCHESE

M T. S T. HELENS VIETNAM BAND

Marissa Nadler
Little Hells

••••••••••
MYSPACE AMAZON
The ghost of Joan Baez,
still haunting yet tedious
On this Massachusetts
songstress’ fourth full-
length, hell isn’t an afterlife;
it’s life lived in the grip of
loss. With her luxuriant,
Renaissance faire soprano,
Nadler sketches out the
ways that a bright past can
fade to a torturous present
haunted by “ghosts and
lovers.” Even percussive
standouts such as “River of
Dirt” wallow. Maybe listen-
ers trapped in the depths of
mourning or an exceedingly
bad breakup might find
hypnotic comfort here;
others will likely admire the
pretty vocals, fingerpicked
guitar, and spectral atmo-
sphere—then crave songs
just a little more eventful.
SPENCER KORNHABER

Elvis Perkins in Dearland Elvis Perkins in Dearland

••••••••••
MYSPACE AMAZON
Tragedy-scarred folkie is
undaunted by mortality
Elvis Perkins’ father—
actor Anthony—died of
AIDS; his mother perished
in the 9/11 attacks. So
forgive him for still sorting
things out on Dearland, his
second album of death-
obsessed folk rock. He’s no

Razorlight Slipway Fires

••••••••••
MYSPACE AMAZON
Kate Moss cast-off is
better seen than heard
Razorlight’s photogenic
frontman Johnny Borrell is
a genuine media sensation
in England—note covers
of British Vogue and
GQ—but he’s also a skillful,
sometimes perceptive
song writer. Slipway Fires
examines rocky romances,
from the stomping “You
and the Rest” to the folky
“Go Thompson,” pausing
for a cautionary tale about
celebrity (the semifunky
“Tabloid Lover”). Too bad
the performances are so
lamely tossed-off. Borrell’s
quavering vocals feel
showy and shallow, while
the quartet’s glossy guitar
pop could come from any
crew of faceless studio
hacks. JON YOUNG

SPIN.COM LOVES YOU FOR WHO YOU ARE / MARCH 2009 81