Ambivalence Avenue is the latest offering from British music producer Stephen Wilkinson, the brains and brawn behind Bibio’s unique brand of electronica. While studying “sonic arts” at Middlesex University in London, Wilkinson developed a style of intelligent dance music that weaves found and field recordings with traditional folk influence. This approach creates a softly textured sound that is comforting and yet contemplatively other worldly.

Ambivalence Avenue opens with an ethereal lounge folk number reminiscent of a flower child romp through the countryside. Just when you’ve settled into this comfortable reminder of days past, Bibio reminds you that synthesizers are the instruments of the future, and hey, we’re living three years away from 2012. This IS the future. But this future isn’t exactly the world of pristine, man-made landscapes and ultimate human control that our oh so ambitious forefathers envisioned. The future living in Ambivalence Avenue is one thatt seems to be an intelligent and reflective update on the new horizon.

The skillful recycling of Wilkison’s library of found sound layered with resourceful field sampling and mastery of current synth technology is parallel to the contemporary vision of humans relying on utilizing the mounds of scraps leftover by past cultures to sustain our current society. Because of the variety of scraps Bibio works with, each song retains a coherent individuality. “Haikuesque (When She Laughs)” offers a soothing laid-back intelligent dance sound, while the following song “Sugarette” incorporates bubbly pop. Then, “Lover’s Carvings” pulls you back into the meandering folk influence of the album opening. The rest of the album follows and develops this same formula of ebb and flow between traditional future folk to spaced out dance. The way that Ambivalence Avenue consumes and reconstructs these choice scraps has resulted in a sound that is young and relevant rather than tired and predictable. This album is a welcome and well reasoned step forward in terms of Bibio’s past releases and in the current climate of folk revival in the music market. I’ll be relying on this album to get me through the rough transition to fall ahead of us.

I worked at Pure Pop for exactly a year.  My favorite part of the job was grading the condition of the used vinyl.  My least favorite was selling concert tickets.  Anyway, the music you hear when you shop there is an employee’s pick.  You get to pick one album and then you have wait for the other employee’s picks to run through before you get play another.  These days I’m a bartender at The OP, which means I can play whatever the fuck I want all day long.  Sometimes people will make suggestions or requests (one customer got really steamed when I skipped over Donna Summer‘s 18-minute rendition of “MacArthur Park.” Um, sorry…NO), but I usually ignore them.  Also, there are 10,000 songs on my iPod.  I have lots of music to choose from on any given day for any kind of shitty mood I might be in.  So, this is The OP top five.

1> The Rolling Stone 500 Songs playlist and The Pitchfork 500 Songs playlist.

People on the internet are crazy.  Somebody actually took these lists of great songs, spent time compiling them, and then put them on the internet as a bit torrent file.  The Rolling Stone one is great for the older patrons, who sometimes look very surprised that I know who Little Richard and Bill Haley are.  The Pitchfork one is for the younger folks.  Either way, all I have to do is open the playlist up, hit shuffle, and it’s great songs all day long.  Also, it’s like radio.  When a song you dig comes on the radio, it’s different than playing it at home.  It’s more fresh because it’s unexpected.  The Rolling Stone playlist will make you realize how many songs are about losing the one you love.  I’m gonna go with 98%.

2> LCD Soundsystem, “Sound Of Silver”

Whenever I put this on at least five people will come up and ask me who it is.  I’m pretty sure by the time they sit down they’ve already forgotten.  No matter.  I’ve watched old drunk people dance to it.  On multiple occasions.  Sounds like silver to me.  It’s a lot like the Beta Band scene in “High Fidelity” except nobody goes out and buys it.

3> Pavement, “Grounded”

I never get tired of this song, but every time I play it at the bar at least one person locks eyes with me and nods.  They know.  I know.

4> Sinead O’Connor, “Nothing Compares 2 U”

Playing this makes the girls in the bar very happy, especially when it’s late and they’re all drunk.  It makes me happy, too.

5> Silence.

The first example of silence I’ll use is its use at the end of the night when you want people to leave.  Lights bright, music off.  Usually effective.  The other example occurred yesterday, during Beatles Day.  When I worked at restaurants if the customers talked too loud (sometimes it’s deafening) I’d simply turn the music down a bit and they’d get a little quieter.  Yesterday, a few drunken patrons were shouting their opinions over horse racing at increasing volumes.  I tried the quiet trick.  It didn’t work.  Oh, well.

Liam Finn – Champagne In Seashells

While Liam Finn’s debut album of last year, I’ll Be Lightning, attracted its fair share of acclaim, the Australian was weighed down by the duality of being a dizzyingly frenetic live performer but something of a straightforward singer-songwriter on record.

Utilising an array of loops, and showcasing his awesome drumming skills, on stage Finn never disappointed; but by witnessing the man in the flesh before hearing his recorded wares, this writer for one was left a little less impressed than was expected. Yet for this new six-track offering, the eldest son of Crowded House’s Neil Finn has chosen to explore sounds that, largely, gently caress the synapses rather than bludgeon their way into one’s affections, as was the case with previous performances. (Read the Full Review)

A. A. Bondy – When the Devil’s Loose

The reason that people are enamored with the singer-songwriter concept is that we all love the idea of conveying our innermost thoughts, hopes, dreams, ruminations, and beliefs through music. Yet, despite such desires, most of us don’t possess the talents necessary to shape words and melodies into the proper form, or at least not a form that will have people singing along at a show, fashioning a mixtape, or spend hours upon hours teaching themselves how to play guitar—all because of one single, memorable, unforgettable song. While the likes of Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, and others sing about feelings and situations shared by many members of the music-loving public most of us can’t craft the thoughts and chords into a coherent whole that others will appreciate.

What makes A.A. Bondy stand out from his fellow guitar-strumming contemporaries is his ability to pair his beleaguered voice with a brand of road-weary folk rock that’s intimately accessible, without sounding stale or hackneyed. Opposed to indulging in the sort of overtly passionate melodrama that passes for emotional transparency these days, When The Devil’s Loose finds Bondy singing song after gut-wrenching song, yet doing so with a strength that gives his pathos that much more depth. He doesn’t have to belt out his lyrics at full volume, wailing on his guitar with tears in his eyes and a bleeding heart on his sleeve, for listeners to connect with his songs, to believe that what he’s singing is oh-so-true. (Read the Full Review)

John Fogerty – The Blue Ridge Rangers Ride Again

Here is John Fogerty doing what comes naturally. If he seemed immodest in the Creedence Clearwater Revival, he has justified himself and proven that he can make a fine, fine record without anyone’s help at all. The Blue Ridge Rangers may be the most successful one-man rock album yet, and if the general concept still doesn’t make sense at least Fogerty has made it work.The entire album is devoted to reinterpretations of personal favorites; mainly country, some spirituals and early rock. It has practically nothing to do with current rock trends, be they singer/songwriter, heavy metal, theatrical, glitter or flash. Instead, the record is a crystal-clear distillation of one man’s view of the rock & roll past, the source of his strength and his faith. On it, each cut seems to flow into a river of feeling in which country and city, western and blues, gospel and secular blend together in a complete body of indigenous American music. (Read the Full Review)

Muse – The Resistance

1- UPRISING (502)
If the album was announced as being particularly symphonic, Muse is playing with us as this stunning opening, the exact opposite of the direction expected. It starts with an electronic buzz, quickly followed by a low saturated fat and a hammered rhythm on the toms. The feeling tends to be closer to Depeche Mode, just how “Map Of The Problematique” on “Black Holes & Revelations”, but with a dynamic almost at the level of heavy guitar riffs. The title is not dancing, but he keeps it your own sad and melancholy timbre of Matthew Bellamy. Note the presence of a few choruses of “hey” chanted like a Marilyn Manson of the great days. This is the first single extract from the official record.

2- RESISTANCE (546)
Here is the eponymous song, angular piece of the album begins in an atmosphere of calm generated by a few layers of soft synth. Then tumbling piano melody accompanied by a powerful rotating drum that slowly turns into a deafening march rhythmic way. The Muse 2009 vintage seems to have the desire to surprise and that there seemed to be quickly identified is fast, éructant pre-chorus baroque-style way Queen “Bohemian Rhapsody”. And while we thought we hear a predictable final climb, the trio prefers to play calm and keep a few cartridges in reserve … (Read the Full Track by Track Review)

The best of kind of vinyl reissues are of albums that are tricky to come by. I’m always a little perplexed when things like Supertramp’s Breakfast in America or Steve Miller Band’s Greatest Hits get the deluxe reissue treatment, not because they’re poor albums (I quite like the former) but because their presence in the used market is all but ubiquitous. If you haven’t seen a second-hand copy of either, you’ve never been in a used record store.

On the other hand, this week’s release of all four Smiths studio albums is a godsend. In a perfect world, everyone would be able to find copies of The Queen is Dead in their dad’s record collection, because in this hypothetical perfect world everyone bought The Queen is Dead. Alas, that wasn’t the case, and it’s been a bit of a drag tracking their stuff down.

Rhino, the king of the reissue, has drawn the line at studio albums, so fans looking for Hatfull of Hollow or Louder than Bombs are going to have to continue cruising the used market. What we do have are the eponymous debut, Meat is Murder, The Queen is Dead and Strangeways Here We Come. If you only have the cash for one and you don’t know which one to get, the answer is all of them.

People tend to get hyperbolic in either their acclaim for or derision of the Smiths. As much as I like to sing their praises, I’ll attempt not to give into that and merely say The Smiths were an excellent rock n roll band. The availability of their material on vinyl is fantastic news.

Tanner has asked me to write a lil sumpin sumpin for the Pure Pop blog, alumni employee that I am. I worked at Pure Pop for about five years, from the time I graduated college to the time I moved to New York. My hours at the store have been among the wackiest and most fun in my working life, not to mention probably the most valuable ones in my overall education. The management and staff there have always been supportive and enthusiastic, creative and smart. (ed. this is no longer true) I’m still in contact with many people I worked with at the store, and we often collaborate on creative projects, share music, and even work together from time to time.

I have been to record stores all over the world, and Pure Pop remains at the top of the list for quality per square inch. The vast and diverse selection at the store is exceptional, and the prices are fantastic. I never visit Vermont without stopping in.

As I am known to be a raving RnB fan, it was suggested that perhaps I do a “Top 5 Greatest Albums” post on the genre. However, RnB does not focus on albums as much as other categories of popular music – it tends to be single-driven, it’s avid collectors digging for dusty 45s and such. The thing I love about RnB is that it is meant to capture a pulse, an immediate feeling, and that it is supposed to reflect and illuminate common experience. RnB is about radios, jukeboxes and dance floors. It’s about the right song at the right time, bringing people together.

“The thing I love about RnB is that it is meant to capture a pulse, an immediate feeling, and that it is supposed to reflect and illuminate common experience.”

A person can build a decent soul collection by buying “Greatest Hits” and singles collections, which generally have pretty low price points and can also be found used for excellent prices. The Stax, Motown, and Atlantic labels are particularly important to get your “major arcana” artists such as Isaac Hayes, the Four Tops, and Aretha Franklin. I suggest familiarizing yourself with an artist or label’s major works before exploring their catalogs, which can be very prolific and varied. There is somewhat of a consensus about “Greatest Albums,” with records like “Songs In the Key of Life” etc. ranking justifiably among many people’s favorites. But because RnB is so personal and sensitive, I prefer the idea that people find those cuts that hold specific meaning to them on their own.

The wonderful thing about shopping at Pure Pop is that you can count on that one unfamiliar studio album in an artist’s section to be the mind-blowing piece which stood the test of time. The store has been around long enough to know the men from the boys, as it were, and not to be swayed by whatever a label or distributor is trying to inject into the general consciousness. So I say go for it, that Al Green album, the trippy Curtis Mayfield record.

There are many RnB artists, songs, and records that are very important to me. I am enchanted with the lore surrounding these recordings, as well as my own personal stories of finding and enjoying the music. Any time you might want to talk to me about it, I am game (and probably nerdy and obnoxious). I highly recommend soul-sides.com for news about beat-based recordings.

But whoever you are, just go ahead and get a copy of Sly and the Family Stone’s “There’s A Riot Going On.” Until you have this record in your life you are like the alcoholic who hasn’t found your Higher Power – you’re living in your body and your mind instead of in your heart and spirit. So yeah, get free.

About Me:
A deep-generation Vermont native, I now live in Brooklyn, New York. I am an Illustrator/live music Girl Friday with an interest in absurdity and creativity. You can count on me to burn a hole in a dance floor. Find out more about my musically-saturated visual work/ethos by visiting nortonanalog.blogspot.com.

Last night we held one of our semi-regular poker nights. It was attended by elder statesmen of the Pure Popperverse, the newest blood being myself and Mr. Michael Breiner (pictured on the far right) who have been in the Pure Pop employ for six years or so. We were joined by former employee Chris Miller (pictured on the far left), a fine man and card player.

Breiner, for the second time in a row, won the proceedings with some deft playing. It was a pretty close game for the most part, with just about everyone enjoying chip-leader status at some point. The great exception to that was yours truly (not pictured). I won all of two hands, played with cowardice and swore off playing poker ever again about a dozen times over the course of the night.

As you might imagine, we listened to quite a bit of great music over the course of the evening. The night was hosted by Tanner (pictured middle left), who’s digital music collection rivals any I’ve ever seen. Our other Michael (pictured middle right) treated us to a Neko Case-themed playlist that I initially resisted only to find myself enjoying thoroughly.

In situations like these, one hopes and can expect to hear something new. Some of the better stuff we heard that I was unfamiliar with included bands called The Assembly, The Records (who Breiner emphatically recommends) and the Flamin’ Groovies, a band I’ve grown to absolutely adore over the course of twenty-four hours.

We also delighted in many Pure Pop favorites, including Kate Bush, Nick Lowe, XTC, Wire, Morrissey and the like. A fine night, all things considered.

Arctic Monkeys – Humbug

Kids grow up so quickly these days. In 2005, Arctic Monkeys were a supernaturally talented teenage quartet from Sheffield, detailing youthful high jinks with a sarcastic wit and cocky insight as tartly evocative of time and place as the Smiths in 80s Manchester or the Jam in 70s Woking. Now, three albums in, they’re sporting long hair and Black Sabbath T-shirts, the interview chat moving from in-jokes to Jimi Hendrix’s impressive musicianship. The pitch for Humbug couldn’t scream “maturity” any more loudly if the record came with free pipe and slippers.

Evolution has been in the air since last year, when singer Alex Turner unveiled his side-project, 60s pastiche the Last Shadow Puppets. Some of its extravagant armoury – strings, galloping rhythms – lingers here, but other changes are more fundamental. With seven of the 10 tracks produced by Queens of the Stone Age’s Josh Homme, the transition is from pop to rock, snap and vigour weighed down by a preoccupation with muscle and heft. (Read the Full Review)

Mew -No More Stories

The frenetic percussion and unorthodox time signature of the opening track “Introducing Palace Players” eventually gives way to an upbeat, soaring dance beat and jangly guitars that go on to dominate the rest of the song. The lyrics have an air of optimism to them, which represents a switch from the typically morose vocals Jonas Bjerre usually delivers. As the band is now recording as a three-piece following the departure of bassist Johan Wohlert, and producer Rich Costey is again manning the production on the new album (he also produced the bands breakthrough record Frengers), these new songs manage to maintain the grandiose sound and scope of Mew’s earlier material without ever overreaching. This approach is evident on the propulsive “Repeaterbeater,” which is a driving, seething track that seems to be over far too quickly but oddly ends at just the right time. It is that quirky paradox that not only makes Mew a tough band to classify, but also a tough band to describe. The jarring guitars at the start and finish of “Repeaterbeater” belie the epic, original nature of the track’s other two and a half minutes. And after hearing these two songs, as good as they are, I still have no real idea what the full-length will sound like. (Read the Full Review)

Municipal Waste – Massive Aggressive

Ahhhh yes, more thrash. After more than a week of being laid out from strep throat and ear infections galore, I am now psyched to listen to the new Municipal Waste album, Massive Aggressive (is anyone else totally enamored by the delightful titles this band comes up with for their songs and albums? I almost want to giggle with glee everytime I check out the traklisting of a new album). I can’t tell you how hard it is to be a huge fan of metal and NOT be able to listen to your favorites because your ears can’t handle anything more than repeats of the Cosby Show on TV. I digress though, the new Municipal Waste is one album I have been eagerly anticipating for much of the year. The band’s last two albums have received regular rotation on my playlist, and me being a thrash junkie puts them at a higher standard than perhaps some other forms of metal. With that in mind, I hope I don’t turn you off when I say that Massive Aggressive isn’t what I’d exactly been hoping for. Is it good? Yes, but it’s not the monumental follow up to The Art of Partying I had been anticipating. (Read the Full Review)

Matisyahu – Light

The first thing that ran through my head when I first watched Matisyahu (born Matthew Miller) perform his first single “King Without A Crown” back in 2006, sounded like this: “Hmm…a Hasidic Jew rapping religiously over rock/reggae songs…a quite ingenious gimmick.” In such a random fusion of styles, the unusual frontman delineated messages of peace and faith to everyone in the vicinity. I, personally, kept focused on the thought that he looked very peculiar – so peculiar in fact that naturally, such curiosity caused quite a large deal of people to become fans, and those fans to buy the album that really catapulted Matisyahu into the spotlight, Youth. I learn more and more about Miller and his dirt poor past – how he fell into the label of ‘high school drop-out’. This isn’t such a far cry for artists in any sense, but there was no doubt an exotic twist in this case because that artist happens to be a Judaic hip-hopper on a never-ending quest to find God. Donning a broad-brimmed black hat and throwing a yarmulke over his head, Matisyahu is back after a two year break to uplift the downtrodden with his brigade of inspirational lyrics and head bobbing dancehall breakbeats with his third studio album. (Read the Full Review)

This album isn’t technically new. It was released in March of 2007, but it’s stateside release is forthcoming, so it’s new to us yanks. For those unfamiliar with The ‘Fudge, they formed in the 60′s, played a proto-metal style akin to Deep Purple and are primarily known for their covers. They are very, very good. Their self-titled debut is a wonderful collection of earnest and interesting interpretations of songs admired by the band. It features two of the mere handful of tolerable Beatles covers out there, as well as a gutting cover of “You Keep Me Hanging On” that would prove to be the group’s biggest hit. (Originally by The Supremes, Vanilla Fudge’s “YKMHO” in no way displaces the original, it’s a separate, nearly-as-great entity.)

Despite my affection for the band’s earlier material, I greeted the news of their newly-recorded collection of Led Zepplin covers with a furrowed brow and mocking grin. Forty-years past their brief formative period, new material by Vanilla Fudge is unlikely to set the world on fire. It turns out that’s too bad, because Out Through The In Door happens to be very good.

One of the reasons the album works so well is Vanilla Fudge and Led Zepplin were both playing in styles evolved from more basic blues rock. Consequently, the redressing of classic Zepplin tunes in the garb of Fudge’s sludgey hard rock sounds natural. More importantly, Fudge still sound great. It’s shocking that, forty years on, these guys sound more or less the same. Mark Stein in particular deserves praise for having a voice that’s aged so well. A few modern production flourishes aside, someone could have convinced me the album was thirty years older than it actually is.

Stylistically, the album isn’t bringing anything to the table that hasn’t been around for decades. If it was a collection of original songs in the same vein, I can’t imagine it holding my interest, but that’s not what Vanilla Fudge are about. As it stands, this album is a pleasant contribution from one of rock’s more engaging curios. Check it out.

Couldn’t find anything off the new album. Enjoy some classic Fudge.

Ah, Pure Pop… hard to believe it’s been nearly three years since I’ve been inside you.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t think of you nearly every day. As you may have heard, Brooke and I live in DC now, which is a goddamn thrill-a-minute. I work as the Communications Director at a think tank called Future of Music Coalition. But what does that mean in the day-to-day? Well, I examine and translate issues at the intersection of music, technology, policy and law, while keeping the message on point. In Washington, there’s a lot of stuff that happens behind closed doors that actually impacts musicians. For a decade, FMC has given artists a voice on the issues that affect their livelihood. We fight for better media like radio, research and evaluate emerging business models, advocate for smart internet policy, ponder copyright in the digital age and so on and so forth. It’s all rather fascinating and has resulted in cool opportunities I could’ve never envisioned as a self-educated nutter. In my “spare time,” I operate The Contrarian Media, where my indentured servants and I write about all manner of things. Oh, and I still record music. Actually, I’m about halfway through a new record. I’d tell you more, but this is about you, not me. Besides, the feral cats who raised me told me that it’s impolite to boast. (By the way, and Brooke says hi. She’s a fundraiser for another public interest group that deals with telecom policy and copyright reform, so we get to go to the same cocktail parties!)

I’ve been tasked with compiling a list of some kind, so I figured I’d make mine about what I miss about ye olde record store. It’s by no means complete, but cut me some slack — I’m writing this at 1 AM, having spent the earlier part of the evening publicly shaming conservatives on Twitter. So this is what you get.

Things I miss about Pure Pop (in no particular order):

1. My co-workers. It might seem kind of weird, but the majority of my lasting adult (ha!) friendships were forged in the crucible of this little shop. So many great conversations, so many bizarre shared experiences. I love all you weirdos.

2. Turning people on to music. I’ll be honest, I’m not one for customers. (I hear Crandall’s voice in my head: “Shocker!”) Still, I got a special thrill helping to break a new band, or knowing what a particular regular was into and pointing them towards stuff I knew would blow their minds. It’s an feeling I’ve yet to replicate in my post-Pure Pop gigs.

3. Getting drunk after work, usually with the folks from the shop; sometimes with customers! It’s not like there’s much else to do in the frigid embrace of a Burlington winter.

4. Making fun of hippies. It simply never gets old. I hope someone at Pure Pop is carrying on that noble tradition.

5. Ordering records for the store. I’ve also made lasting friendships with some of the cool people who provide Pure Pop with such a unique selection of music. It saddens me to think that the indie distributor/indie retailer ecosystem is threatened. I’d say fuck progress, but you’ll have to pry my iPhone from my cold, dead hands.

Recently I revisited the last two albums by a little known band from Boston called Drexel who disbanded in autumn of 2003. Drexel had become a seminal group to myself and my peers. Originally a punk/ska outfit with hardcore influences. It wasn’t until their last two albums in which the group broke from the confines of  the genre and created an onslaught of  fast paced “panic” rock’n'roll. It was complex yet simple. Scattered with random time changes, inventive drum pattens, layered guitars and intense vocal’s that accompany the angular yet poppy style. Drexel had become an entirely new band altogether, who drew influences from?

I’m really not sure. Their style and unconventional song strucure was original taking the listener on a roller coaster ride which lyrically seems to express the side effects of living unorganized lives. The two albums were titled “The Inevitable is Available” and “What Went Wrong”. Both album covers and graphics are identical except for the color. One red and the other blue and all tracks are nameless. The music on the albums sounds like little compartmentalized riffs and melodies that have been enlarged and repeated in a sequence until one component changes yet remains in harmony. Giving the listener a sense of urgency. The songs themselves frequently progress within each other as if mutating or growing. Beginnings and ends don’t match and the relationship between the guitars and drums is unique. Each instrument plays at different a tempo yet find a way to relate. This is a staple of the sound Drexel had created. Unfortunately Drexel decided to break up shortly after they released their last album. Released in limited quantity on a small indie label in Boston the albums have all but disappeared. Making it difficult for their music to reach anyone other than word of mouth. Perhaps it’s what the members wanted? To bow out nobbly rather than fade away.