REVIEWS [ALBUMS]

and the gold standard. If
that sounds about as much
fun as, say, watching CNBC,
rest assured, dude’s got
a tighter flow than Larry
Kudlow. DAVID PEISNER

MSTRKRFT Fist of God

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MYSPACE AMAZON
Daft digi-punks greatly
expand their guest list
Forgoing the flimsy vocoder-
reliant sound of their 2006
debut, Toronto duo Jesse
F. Keeler (formerly of Death
From Above 1979) and
Al P. have gotten better
by getting heavier. With
crunching synth riffs, fat
house rhythms, and thick
Justice-style scuzz, tracks
like “It Ain’t Love” and
“1000 Cigarettes” accom-
modate both headbangers
and hip-shakers. Though
guests such as Ghostface
Killah and E- 40 get a bit
lost in the maelstrom,
things only drag when
the sound softens, as on
the bland, John Legend
showcase “Heartbreaker.”
Fist isn’t quite a God punch,
but it hits with legit impact.
DAVID MARCHESE

SAY HI

a handful of mid-album cuts feel like standard-issue Ne-Yo R&B goo—but there are worse things to be than an insanely gifted professional. DAVID PEISNER

Novel The Audiobiography

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MYSPACE
Genetically blessed upstart
hits his marks expertly
Novel’s got biography
for miles: He’s the son of
the Motown A&R exec
who signed Stevie Wonder
and grandson of soul
legend Solomon Burke.
His innate talents ooze

from his debut. He’s as comfy spitting earnest self-affirmations over a warm Ben Folds piano melody (“I Am”) as he is unleashing a knee-wobbling, Prince-channeling falsetto on a series of slinky funk jams (“Damn,” “Velvet Sky”). The Audiobiography sounds a little too well oiled at times—

Röyksopp
Junior

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MYSPACE AMAZON
Cool Norwegians turn
on the Technicolor
Despite their wintry
chill-out origins, Nordic
keyboard pair Svein Berge
and Torbjørn Brundtland
create smooth, sunny
sounds perfect for roller-
skating on rainbows. With
vocal help from fellow
Scandinavians Robyn,
Lykke Li, and the Knife’s
Karin Dreijer Andersson,
they push the tempos,
pumping up previously
latent synth-pop tenden-
cies and heightening the
details on their hallucina-
tory soundscapes: “My
favorite record is playing
again,” they reflexively sing
on “Happy Up Here,” as a
pert Parliament sample
doubles as a hook and love
object. BARRY WALTERS

Say Hi Oohs and Aahs

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MYSPACE AMAZON
Please put the mouse
down and crank the amps!
Eric Elbogen’s fifth album
illustrates what happens
when a songwriter gets too
good at recording without
leaving the house: Instead
of merely sounding “multi-
layered,” the music causes
a listener to start visualizing
acoustic riffs and drum-
machine patterns copy-
pasted and arranged on a
laptop monitor. A sensitive
Seattle mumbler, Elbogen
pens lively lyrics about car
chases and hot DJ ladies, but
his arrangements trundle
along stiffly, each song
rendering an imitation of
rock that’s as finely detailed
as a hobbyist’s diorama, and
ultimately about as exciting.
SPENCER KORNHABER

experimental escapades with multiple sections that range all the way from the abrasive minimalism of Shellac (minus the attitude) to the ornate spookiness of Grizzly Bear (minus the doo-wop). Produced by Deerhoof drummer Greg Saunier, Sholi deftly incorporates eerie groans, math-rock guitars, la-la sing-alongs, and frenetic drum lines. But in between the mania and ethereality, the music’s greatest accomplishment is its only constant: simple, striking scalar melodies that, whether buried under fuzz bass or acoustic arpeggios, make each track breath-taking and keep the band’s genre shifts refreshing, rather than overwhelming. SARAH DUPUIS

Sholi
Sholi

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MYSPACE AMAZON
Bay Area indie kids plot
elaborately jazzy path
This California trio’s
debut album spools out

Silversun Pickups
Swoon

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MYSPACE AMAZON
Buzz band’s melancholy
reaches infinite sadness
These dreamy Los Angeles
rockers keep the guitars
thick and gauzy on the
follow-up to their 2006

Puckered Out
Success makes a mess of not-so-young folks’ lives

Two years ago, this swedish trio scored an international smash with “young Folks,” an indie-pop sleeper so relentlessly upbeat that everyone from Kanye west to Budweiser whistled its refrain. But now, as fans await another breezy hit, PB&J take a dark turn, as if consumed by success-story guilt. with spare electro beats and aching confessions—“I can laugh if I want to / But it won’t make me happy”—Living Thing won’t double as anyone’s dance-party playlist. But it’s an uneasy, bracingly honest soundtrack to life after fame.

Blame Metallica. while PB&J were writing this album, they released 2007’s instrumental Seaside Rock, which they referred to as a form of “therapy” and “our Some Kind of Monster,” later admitting to punching each other during mixing sessions. But with samples of Cabaret Voltaire and suicide, it also reignited their love of artfully damaged electronic music—an influence that still haunts them. “Losing My Mind” is all broken wind-chime clangs, while “Nothing to worry about” begins innocently enough with a children’s choir, but warbles around so woozily that the title begins to sound menacing. The radio-catchy “Lay

It Down” features skull-cracking synths and a chorus of “Hey, shut the fuck up, boy!” Not a savvy career move, but for a band who’ve been covered by Top 40 schmaltz king James Blunt, there’s a better word for it: brave. MELISSA MAERZ

PETER BJORN AND JOHN Living Thing

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Leather, mustaches,

and all the intrigue that comes with them

FROM TOP: DAVID BELISLE; JOHAN BERGMARK

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