The Radio Dept started a journey a number of years ago, a pop voyage (pronounced French-style) if you will, that has started a new leg. The fuzzed out bliss pop seems so very long ago, as they enter an orchestral funk pop phase, still framed with their signature techniques. Regardless of the destination, the fun is in getting there.
Second Post 5/9/2008:
The Radio Dept’s last LP Pet Grief further cemented their delicate pop sounds, built with the tools of 80’s pop (haunting keyboads, drum machines, echo pedals), as their sound. “Freddie and the Trojan Horse,” from their upcoming June EP, doesn’t mess with their formula, but it does turn up the tempo and the urgency.
Original Post 11/17/2004:
Like religious conversion or political persuasion, music can be very personal. Isn’t that why we like it? So rather than a cold, third-person blip about The Radio Dept., allow me to share something personal, which is that I just love The Radio Dept. Love. My longstanding record for the most times I’ve listened to a song in a row is Joe Jackson’s “Got the Time,” clocking in at 48 consecutive listens. But, at the rate I’m going, The Radio Dept.’s “Pulling Our Weight” is going to overtake that before the night is over.
Today we’re happy to serve up a North West smorgasbord. However, unless you can get to the Portland area within the next 48 hours or so, this post won’t do you much good. There are the MP3s. Have at ’em. That’s the reason why you’re here ain’t it? This year marks the fifth time the good people of Portland have put their collective musicheads together for a weekend of free live music. The fantastic thing about the aforementioned people of Portland is that they’re doing this all out of the goodness of their hearts. Bands, businesses, and residents all volunteer their time to put on this grassroots festival which has spawned action packed compilations that help raise money and awareness for the festival. I wouldn’t mind it a bit if I were actually there this weekend enjoying the music, the weather, the wonderful city, and of course a healthy Powell’s browse would top things off nicely. If only… Included are songs from a few bands playing this weekend. And if your attendance is more than my pipe dream, here’s the link to the 
This track has become a staple on the ol’ 
Somewhere in Pennsylvania, some guy makes trippy records with some of his friends. I do have a few more details about this guy. They won’t do you much good though. His name is Tobacco and he lives in or around Pittsburgh. Maybe. He sings through a vocoder, a lot. Guys like this would get my vote for American Idol: write sunshiney melodies, set them to gentle grooves, and then 
I am having a hard time filling in the genre field on iTunes for this Luke Top guy. In a word—curious. He plays the field a bit with bands, touring and recording with Cass Mccombs, Papercuts, and Foreign Born. I’m not going attempt a review of the Afro-Hebrew dance band Fool’s Gold he co-founded. Discover that on your own. The important part of the story? He’s quirky good. The cute-and-personable-brainiac-kid-in-math-class quirky good. Clearly being born in Tel Aviv to an Iraqi refugee and a Russian-born aviator transplanted to Southern California is a successful formula to inspire writing a light sigh of music.
I don’t think I’ve been this excited about demos before. The Raveonettes last album Lust Lust Lust engendered exactly that in my aural cavity. Their fuzzy washes of surf guitars and garage rock immediately balmed the ever-present ringing in my ears and Sharin and Sune still lull me to sleep at night with their addictively sweet melodies. They’re so good that I don’t mind when I awake in the morning wrapped in headphone chord. Dangerous? Yep. Worth it? You bet. The tentatively titled “Last Dance” perfectly captures my fascination with these Danes: from the opening line (which I wish I’d written), “Your lipstick smeared sad,” to the Beach Boys-ish woo-woos in the background, to the theme of the song itself (Sune succinctly explains it: “how drug addiction interferes with love”). My addiction to The Raveonettes hasn’t interfered with my love life, rather with Alisa’s sleep patterns, specifically when the wall of guitars rush in between verses of their track “Hallucinations” and bleed from my ears. It hurts oh so good.
Photons will be releasing three EP’s this year, the first of which is Glory!, out tomorrow via Insound.com. “Where Were You Last Night” continues the raucous party, still with bassoon.
You’d think i’d break five months of silence with some yet-to-be-released, white-label, promo-only B-side REEEEEmix… No. It’s a Los Angeles band that hasn’t put out a record since 2006. But hey, it’s new to me (discovered via Pandora of all places). Irving serve up carefree pop in a variety of flavors – thanks in part to the fact there are five songwriters in the group. My personal favorite is “I Can’t Fall in Love,” which I can’t seem to listen to less than twice in a row.
Guilty pleasure confession time. Culture Club. It was Chuck Davis in my Sophomore health class who told me that that one girl was actually a boy. Chuck knew these kinds of things. Chuck could draw the Adam and the Ants 
Jarvis Cocker. The man needs no introduction, does he?