Bel Auburn is a quintet from Ashland, an idyllic Ohio town some distance southwest of Cleveland. I say idyllic despite never having been there because the sweeping soundscapes that Bel Auburn have created are anything but ugly and uninspiring. In fact, these tracks, all from the band’s second self-released LP, Lullabies in A & C, are about as anthemic, emotive, and polished as you’ll find from a group of friends living off the cultural grid. It’s reminiscent of Coldplay or early Jimmy Eat World, the latter of which Bel Auburn claim as an influence. The lyrics can drift into codes known only by their author, but once a warm blast of guitar kicks in and Matt the lead singer lets go with a cathartic chorus, you’ll know exactly what Bel Auburn mean even if you have no clue what they’re talking about.
(Selected tracks are linked below; visit the Bel Auburn Website to download the rest of the album.)
Ain’t nobody ever needs to doubt Jon Spencer and the Dickinson brothers’ blues. What they’re doing may be a tad less “blue†than the genre’s down-and-out Mississippi Delta roots, but Spencer, the brothers in the band and father Jim producing have been keeping the blues fresh (and let’s not forget Fat Possum Records) all of those years that your dad has fallen for those suburban guitar prophets with top-flight training and no sorrow. Granted, “That’s a Drag†is about as sorrowful as Spencer Dickinson’s blues get, but give me the sound of a night of hard livin’ over an AOR darling any day.
Supersystem belt out saturated pop experiments that explode in a cacophony of colorful sound like homemade fireworks on the Third of July – y’know, because you’re too excited to wait for the Fourth. Any of these earnestly analytical numbers (“White light, white light!/what butterflies are made of!â€) is perfect music for kids in the gifted/talented program (is there still such a thing?) who just can’t stomach what Disney Radio is feeding them. Then there’s “Everybody Sings,†which, apart from being the most emphatic social outcast song this writer’s heard in a good spell, with its mega-dubbed chorus, vaguely surf-rock guitar and amped afro-beats takes current Top 40 sensibilities to a gleeful extreme. It’s like something that Justin Timberlake might record…if he was freakin’ awesome!
Depending on where you stand on the infamous 
You Americans reading and asking yourself “Is that what they really think about us?”, apparently the answer is yes. The Floor Is Made of Lava is possibly named after a Simpsons quote and in the funny and moshable “Told Her I’m From Compton” they name-drop Camaros and Kodak moments, among other things. One look at the Kodak moment to the left and you’ll agree that these guys wouldn’t want to find themselves in Compton, even in a Camaro. But that’s OK, because whether the crazy Copenhagen kids are taking the piss out of us or just having themselves some fun, their bouncy chords and goofy lyrics come across as a post-pop Ween for expats. So turn it up, turn your sensibilities off and hide your sister (see song 2).
Victoria is a charming London in miniature (even the police sirens have that European wail rather than the standard North American whistle) carved into the brilliant and wet wilds on the southern tip of Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada. The subtexts for the city, if you’re into that kind of thing, abound: a bite-sized cosmopolis carved into the heart of darkness, a town with the will of a city, a beachhead in the Garden of Eden. Shapes and Sizes are fantastic at finding that subtext, whether they’re trying or not. They hit rhythms and mimic styles like urbane pros, but they experiment like small-town kids with only themselves as inspiration. “Wilderness†lumbers along like a pessimistic comedian, hinging itself on a medley of downer horns, a charmingly amateur chorus of whistles, and the line “Susan, you can’t be tribal leader ‘coz your personality’s wrong.†It provides the perfect segueway to the melancholy opening (but not so down that it can’t hold a few handclaps!) to “Island’s Gone Bad,†but halfway through a party breaks out to the exuberant shout “I like eating fruit off of trees when I’m with you!†Aw shucks, guys, the feeling’s mutual.
It’s already been established (see below) that I can’t even attempt neutrality when talking about Neko Case. I’m in love with her, plain and simple. I’m married, but I think even my wife understands, or at least as much as I can understand her love for Zach Braff. But don’t let my bald adoration turn you away, because it’s Neko’s mind you should love, man. Her mastery of lyrical storytelling is nearly in a league with Johnny Cash, Loretta Lynne, Emmylou Harris, and Willie Nelson, and “nearly†only because she hasn’t been around as long. The angelic tenor of her voice, rendered with a ballroom echo, is sublime, and the stories themselves possess the exquisite detail and suspense, the juxtaposition of familiarity and esoteric conceit, of the finest Flannery O’ Connor tales. And don’t forget that, lest you complain (and, really, it’s the only complaint I’ll accept about my beloved) that the sonic similarities between tracks is a hair too close, Neko is pushing the boundaries of American roots music by night while she and the New Pornographers keep inching toward the perfect pop song by day. I’m well aware that this is the kind of adoring write-up that could come back to haunt me. Oh well. Love makes us do crazy things.
Isabelle Antena is a Parisian songbird whose bossa- and samba-inflected electro-Francopop is as glamorous as it is playful. And she’s been making hip jingles for almost three decades. Antena released Camino del Sol 25 years ago on Benelux, the continental stepchild of Factory Records. So while New Order et. al. were taking over clubs worldwide, Antena were mostly, and criminally, overlooked. Yet, you listen to the coy cover of “The Boy From Ipanema” and, beyond sounding like it could have been recorded this year in a Williamsburg loft, you realize where bands like Stereolab got their groove. Antena is back with Tujours de Soleil, ostensibly a follow-up to Camino. “Spinner” is perfect for urban adventures, but unfortunately the only version I can find for download is only two-thirds the length of the original. Fortunately, Isabelle has a career-spanning catalog of MP3s on her site, so make a sampler and plan that trip to Paris sooner than you thought.
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