Apples in Stereo

New Magnetic Wonder

Yep Rock

After releasing the stripped down, distortion heavy Velocity of Sound in 2002, it seemed the Apples had completely abandoned their usual rich and textured production style í¢â‚¬“ essentially what made them stand out from most of their pop savvy contemporaries. But with New Magnetic Wonder, the layered dynamics and candy-coated sonics are back in full force. The album consists of 14 songs (with 12 additional segueing link-tracks) mostly all sung by lead Apple Robert Schneider, though former core-member and ex-wife Hilarie Sidney jumps aboard for a couple numbers (most memorably on one of the recordí’s best cuts, í¢â‚¬Å“Sunndal Songí¢â‚¬ ). And while the band doesní’t chart too much new territory, a few tracks like the Phoenix/í’70s pop-inspired í¢â‚¬Å“Same Old Dragí¢â‚¬  and the breezy, space pop of í¢â‚¬Å“7 Scarsí¢â‚¬  remind us of how tasty these Apples can be.

- Adam Simpkins

Eliot Lipp

Steele Street Scaps

Hefty

Sometimes it takes those who pick up on a good thing to really perfect it. Five years ago, Scott Herrení’s (Prefuse 73) click/blip/avant style of instrumental hip-hop was being praised as the musical hybrid of the 21st century. Like so many artists who catch a break, Herren created his own label, Eastern Developments, in order to nurture artists that, well, sound like him. Now Herrení’s darlings have flown the coup and left their mother hen looking for a new sound in all the wrong places. (What the hell was that last Savath and Savalas album all about?) Both Lipp and Ammon Contact have moved from Herrení’s label to bigger labels and a more masterful and mature sound. Steele Street Scraps is an EP of sorts. Clocking in at less than 30 minutes, seven new tracks, and three remixes, this is a nice little sampler for the cautious consumer scared of commitment. But there be no buyer beware here. With beats that would make Stones Throw proud, moog synths, a less is more aural aesthetic, and an ear for the groove, this mixture is too intoxicating to mess up.

- Robert Robot

Busdriver

Road Kill Overcoat

Anti-

Wasting no time on his seventh album, Busdriver (Regan Farquhar) launches into a fiery sermon overtop a bouncy Wu-Tang-styled beat. Spitting flow (and saliva) with a machinegun delivery, not to mention throwing down a pretty killer hook, í¢â‚¬Å“Casting Agents and Cowgirlsí¢â‚¬  sets the bar unusually high for the rest of the album í¢â‚¬“ leaving Busdriver scrambling to keep up. With beats supplied by indie knob-twiddlers Boom Bip and Nobody, RoadKillOvercoat is definitely ambitious and genre-busting, but gets run down by its inconsistent MC. Driver has solid skills as a rapper, slinging lengthy verses with little pause, but his poorly sung and composed choruses are generally grating and tuneless. Trying to imitate the vocal style of Tunde Adebimpe (TV on the Radio) is a difficult undertaking, and certainly doesní’t work here. So with the production trumping Busdriverí’s nasal serenading, you might want to hold off in the event of an instrumental version release.

- Adam Simpkins

Deerhunter

Cryptograms

Kranky

On first listen, Deerhunterí’s Cryptograms is a difficult record to grasp. It has a definite beginning and a definite end, but the way the band gets from A to a distant B isní’t so straightforward.

For the first set of tracks, the Atlanta band weaves through a gloomy set of post-punk and electronic minimalism, which leaves listeners questioning whether the group lies closer to The Fall or Fennesz. But before a decision can be made, Deerhunter shifts gears in the final quarter and drifts into a string of upbeat psych songs that are worlds apart from the recordí’s dreary beginnings. Ití’s almost as if they got all the hurt out of their system by track seven and started putting their lives back together by track eight. Although this progression may initially throw listeners, Cryptograms makes an intriguing listening experience with the right amount of patience.

- BRock Thiessen

Youth Group

Casino Twilight Dogs

Anti-

A note of caution on Youth Groupí’s Casino Twilight Dogs: If you are older than 21, doní’t watch The O.C. regularly and have had enough Death Cab for a lifetime then this record isní’t for you í¢â‚¬“ or at least it shouldní’t be. The heart-on-sleeve indie featured on this Australian bandí’s third album will likely sound much too by-the-numbers if you arení’t in the late-teens, early-20s target market. However, this doesní’t mean the record is necessarily bad. Its crisp, clean production is decent enough. The guitar work gives the record some hooks. And the sensitive delivery of singer Tobi Martiní’s diary entries will turn teenage girls to tears. But, unfortunately, youth is not forever like it is in Youth Groupí’s cover of the 80s-cheese classic, í¢â‚¬Å“Forever Young.í¢â‚¬  You grow up and move on, making Casino Twilight Dogs feel like been there, done that.

- BRock Thiessen

Butcher Boy

Profit in Your Poetry

How Does It Feel To Be Loved

Butcher Boyí’s debut album, released March 5 on HDIF, has been long in the dreaming. A project initiated in the late 1990í’s by John Blair Hunt, the current band was drawn together in 2005 through the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama and Huntí’s National Pop League night in Glasgow. BB have earned flattering but entirely apt comparisons to Felt, Belle & Sebastian, The Smiths, and Tindersticks (for the latter, see í¢â‚¬ËœTrouble and Desireí’). On an odder note, Huntí’s rather lovely voice is reminiscent of troubadour-ey Cat Stevens, and of contemporary nods to 70í’s post-folk a la The Clientele. PIYP is markedly sincere; ití’s not Smiths-esque one-liner comedy, but it isní’t remotely humourless and is earnest without pretension. There are lush, engaging dance numbers like í¢â‚¬ËœGirls Make Me Sickí’, and melancholy love songs like í¢â‚¬ËœFuní’, saved from being saccharine by remaining steadfastly oblique - í¢â‚¬Å“cause disappointmentí’s noble when ití’s someone elseí’s life, so weí’re okay, we wouldní’t have wanted any other way.í¢â‚¬  If you want to be reminded that there is the purest kind of profit in poetry, that pop can push you over, dry your tears and save us all, this album is the friend you need.

- Vanessa Rockel