I’m glad I overcame my fear of fun in music. Otherwise, I might have never enjoyed The Hibernauts. I still haven’t quite figured out what it was. I came into being a consumer of music from a steady diet of “oldies 103.3″ outside philly, which is pretty much what my parents chose to have on in the car. But when I became a modern music consumer, I skewed away from musical levity. The first CD I got was Limp Bizkit’s “Significant Other.” The second was Powerman 5000. Part of me feels the need to defend this, but whatever, I was like 12 years old. I was young, kinda angry, and listened to bad nu-metal, and had little interest in “fun” music. Even when young-me started skewing softer, it was to things like Low, Mogwai, etc., not party pop jams. I think fun seemed substance-less?

I’ve changed though. I’ve seen the funlight. There’s a hidden brilliance to good “fun.” Because of course, fun without any substance isn’t really fun at all. And yet that which is fun hides behind the countenance of, “hey man, we’re just hanging out. No need to get serious in here.” But in that pure visceral enjoyment is a link to something very real and potentially lasting. The music in the made-up-genre-I’m-calling-Fun lasts with us because it does something to us, like all music does, beyond just distracting us from traffic for 15 minutes. What on earth does it do?

Fun, of course, is not the true subject of this review. The Hibernauts are. Hailing from Saint Louis, The Hibernauts are in the release period of their new album, Velvet Suit, their full length follow up to 2007’s Periodic Fable. They’re a decidedly talented rock group who accomplish the increasingly rare feat of achieving an indie aesthetic while still exhibiting that yes, they can be precise with their writing and instrumentation.

Pushing play on A-side “Intermurals” drops you right into the fun zone (which I imagine is similar to a Discovery Zone). The major chords start a-rippin’ and some jovial little note bends get your head bobbing. Two seconds in, the beat kicks and this song is off to the races. We’ve got lead singer/guitar play Tom McArthur oh-oh-ohhing through the verse. We’ve got guitarist/vocalist Jack Stevens coming in from the left, Mr. Chad Rogers with a deceptively funky grove on that chorus kick, Bill Vehige on some light tinkly keys and Brett Ramsey driving the song forward with classic pop finesse.

“I’m gonna put on my velvet suit. I’m lyin’, I don’t have one, I think its fun.”

Very astute, Song Lyrics. It is fun. Jesus, its fun. The guitars wash in and out. The bass scales up and down until clannggg, the pick scrapes and it’s over. But there is a human passion to the fun being had here, most musically apparent in the continual forward march of the drums and the schwika schwika wahhh guitars.

“If you knew the fire…and the thunder…that I feel.”

Yes! Though the primary mood is fun, this song, and all successful funpop music retains its human essence. I have trouble with things like, oh, let’s say, Chromeo (why not? I need an example), because sometimes I forget that there’s people making the music. Precision is one thing, but take a Ratatat—just as precise, but much more FUN and much more HUMAN; in fact, much more of both because of the other. Much more fun-man.

The Hibernauts never let you forget that there are five dudes playing this music. Five dudes with beating hearts and maybe beards and possibly girlfriends, and apartments and bus passes and too many dishes in the sink. This is my favorite thing about rock music—sometimes I like music because it’s reaches an inhuman place, inhumanly smooth, inhumanly vicious, inhumanly robotic, but rock music is music made by people you can instantly imagine with itchy faces and nylon stringed acoustic guitars in the corner of their tiny 4 person apartment, just like me, just like you. (Ok, I’m lying, I don’t have one. But I think it’s fun…)

I like this thesis because I think the B-side “Villain” supports and strengthens it even though, at face value, it should undermine this little party I’ve got going here. But follow me anyways. “Villain” is not a party title. And the song is gentle. It has an emotional edge to it. It uses a robot for beats. There’s some slow keys. Oh, and strings, strings can’t be fun, right? Strings are in orchestras, and those are very serious. But something awesome happened after I heard this song, oh, I don’t know ten times. I started having an awful lot of fun. The low organ three-note progression is deceivingly groovy. And sorry, Hibernauts, but that’s a catchy chorus! You cannot escape! It’s soft and mellow and the lyrics are you lied! But gosh darnit if that isn’t a fun lick! I feel almost guilty getting a little groove on to this song, but when you can write songs and craft melodies, that’s what happens, even when the mood is tempered.

Look, we love music. And when we hear humanity in it, we have a bit of fun. Listening to sad songs is, underneath the surface, kind of fun. I think a lot of the times people forget that when they just set out to “rock.” No one wants to hear you just “rock” because, geologically speaking, that sucks. You need to convince us that you’re just rocking, while actually doing more. The whole rock and roll imagery is built into this deception—the carefully arranged cover shots of everyone looking super casual, the million dollar videos of the guitar player just doing, “whatever he feels.” This is why rock and roll is difficult; this is why rock and roll is more fun than Chromeo (no hard feelings, dudes). This is why rock and roll is American and this is why rock and roll really isn’t going anywhere.

The Hibernauts clearly understand all this, to the point that even when they aren’t rocking out, the lessons they’ve learned are still present. Being fun is serious business people. Now, doff your hats and commence the rocking.

Rick Andrews

[[[Download the 7-inch]]]

There’s something to be said for sounds and the people who love them. All musical artists worth a salt love music, they love songs, of course, duh. But I have a particular fascination for singers, songwriters, bands, orchestral three pieces, xylophone collectives, what have you, that are clearly fascinated with sound itself, as a medium. And when someone loves sound and songs? Oh boy. A songwriter who loves sounds is a potentially powerful musical force—a person who’s love for the communication extends to the mode of communication. The greatest artists are always like this: the best painters have a love for the color and texture beyond the paintings; the best writers, a love for words beyond the story.

Jasmine Wagner of Brooklyn/Montana’s Cabinet of Natural Curiosities is exactly this kind of musician. Quite frankly, she’s this kind of writer and artist, too. Wagner, together with fellow sound-conspirator Alex Wilson are the items belonging to this curious natural cabinet. Together their folky tendencies and love of sound create a most serene concoction: 1 part soundscape, 2 parts folk song, all parts lovely.

You might be quick to call Cabinet of Natural Curiosities “experimental folk,” and you wouldn’t be the first one. The modifier “experimental” has quickly become a signifier of the “sound lover” state I described above, and in that way it is telling. However, in an imaginary world where genres weren’t predominantly used as some kind of socio-musical categorization, and merely used as description, Cabinet of Natural Curiosities might just as much be considered experimental electronica. For even though the foreground sounds are often the acoustic guitar and voice (the folk) I would argue that it’s what is in the background that actually makes Cabinet of Natural Curiosities, well, a curiosity.

Many of the songs on the full length Searchlight Needles (from which our two Ampeater tracks originate) are very frequently centered inside some kind of noise or atmosphere. When this is at its peak, on tracks such as “Little Ice Age,” “Sun,” or “Glass,” it feels like the songs are simply sung inside some great weather event or cave—the tracks become oddly geographical for me. I’ve been reading “The Ice Palace,” by Tarjei Vesaas recently, and I can’t help but picture “Little Ice Age” (available on their myspace) as taking place inside a frozen waterfall.

The point being, the electronics and noise used by Cabinet (Can I call them Cabinet for short? I can’t help but feel like when pitchfork gives their next LP (tentatively titled “Buttermilk Channel”) an 8.5 and all the Greenwich Village hipsters start listening to them, this is what I’ll overhear the kids standing outside Tisch smoking cigarettes refer to them as…) are simultaneously apart from, and integral to, the songs. This is a wonderful effect and sounds more like Leonard Cohen playing next to Faust inside a subway station than anything else. It’s quite splendid.

Turning to the digital single we have on display here, the story is perhaps even more curious. More so than any of the other tracks on Searchlight Needles, I think, Side-A “For Sparrow”/Side-B “Owllullaby” are songs, not sounds. Flip to any track on the LP and you’ll know that Cabinet of Natural Curiosities loves sounds; but it’s not perhaps until you hear these two songs back to back that you realize just how much love Cabinet of Natural Curiosities has for The Song as well.

Take A-side “For Sparrow” for instance. The song centers around Wagner’s voice and strums, filled out by lush sine-wave drips and an insecurely steady organ hum that complete the atmosphere of the track. But it’s Wagner’s multi-layered vocals here that lift the song, pushing and pulling it along, finding slow beautiful hooks within this soundscape. Heck, drop the drips and the organ, and this is simply a folk song with a little bit of bass.

The last two minutes of “For Sparrow” give the game up, though, as the song fades away into an ambient sonic collage that maintains and extends the mood of the song like some strange held note. This “discursion” is nothing new in music, but what is slightly novel is the length of the track devoted to the sounds. What many bands might limit to 15 or 30 seconds as a “cool outro, bro,” Cabinet of Natural Curiosities let extend into a musical motion with more levity, owning almost a full quarter of the track’s running time. I love how the two sections of this track play off each other—at first listen, the ending is a bit of a surprise. However, it arises so organically that now I can’t picture the track without it. This, truly, is a song from lovers of sound, and they integrate the two elements in a way that would make it unruly to separate them.

B-side “Owllullaby” is, if I’m continuing with this sound/song contrast (thanks for bearing with me, by the way), is all song, baby. “Owllullaby” also not-so-coincidentally functions as the final track on Searchlight Needles. In the movie in my head of this album, this is when the musicians, who have until this point been battling through storms and ice caves and noise monsters, finally emerge into an open field to simply play, only voice, guitar, and some cheerful bells to accompany. The song is hypnotic, seductive, and really is a lullaby that I will consider singing to my kids, even though they will not be owls. The acoustic guitar sounds off in never-faltering 1-2-3-1-2-3 while the tiny high bells chirp in to accentuate the dream.

The transition from “For Sparrow” to “Owllullaby” actually mimics quite well the effect that the album has on how we perceive “Owllullaby” with the swirling last quarter of “For Sparrow”’s sonic glory resolving itself into the pleasant and satisfying plucking. Some of the branches lost their leaves / to show off the owls in the trees. / Some of those owls would agree / you should close your eyes and fall asleep. Yes, yes you should. This is music I want to fall asleep and dream to, and any good lover of ambient music (or music with some ambiance) knows that is far from an insult.

Wagner remarks that these two tracks fit together as an A-side/B-side because, “one is a winter song and one is a summer song. They oppose each other the way the seasons do. Both songs were written and recorded during a cold Montana winter, though ‘For Sparrow’ references a hot a smoky summer when the pine forests were burning and the skies of the Missoula valley were yellow and gray, the moon red at night.” I have three things to add/note on this.

First, I think this is good evidence that beautiful sentences simply tumble out of Wagner, potentially without her even meaning it. I’m not sure I’ve ever had a better sentence given to me in the body of an email.

Second, this dichotomy mimics the dichotomy of sounds I’ve been discussing that’s present in Cabinet of Natural Curiosity’s music, the hot of the human voice and guitar and cold, sterile electronics, or reversed, the hot highs of electronic warblings and the low steady hum of voice and string. Whichever way Cabinet of Natural Curiosity decides to play it, this contrast is always present in the songs. To me, that’s what’s in the cabinet. Something summer, and something winter.

Third, I shall add only that both of these songs are about birds. And when one travels to Wagner’s art site, one finds another bird to greet them. It makes a great deal of sense. Both of these songs are birds. Stunning, striking birds.

Rick Andrews

[[[Download the 7-inch]]]

“I’m gonna walk / down the sidewalk / like it’s a runway / … / I’m gonna be like Madonna”
We Are Soldiers We Have Guns,  November

I’ve just moved to New York City, and it’s just turned to November, and I have to say that I admire the attitude of those lyrics.  When it starts getting darker earlier, and everyone’s bundled up in patterned scarves and heavy coats, the sidewalk starts to feel a bit lonely-I’d very much love to be like Madonna walking home from work some days.

We Are Soldiers We Have Guns may exist for just such times.  The Gothenburg (Sweden, for all those not down with maps) based pop vehicle brings a sharp attack of straight-forward, honest lyricism with some surprisingly upbeat arrangements. This lushness is the product of the mind of Gothenburg’s Malin Dahlberg, formerly of Douglas Heart and Laurel Music, joined by a wide circle of instrument-wielding accomplices.

One could argue that the major musical accomplishment of the 1980s was to re-inject popular music with a sense of fun and excitement.  Pop rediscovered that sense of child-like wonder that rock and roll had so foolishly squandered while trying to sound cool.  Colorful clothing, silly faces, etc.  Try to imagine the 80s without picturing a bunch of teenagers dancing around a library.  See? You can’t.

The most recent decade of pop, on the other hand, has excelled at incorporating the sonic mastery and precision of experimental and progressive music into the pop framework.  Albums sound great now.  Modern luminaries like Animal Collective and Radiohead continue to score points by breeding sonic exploration with the pop we all know and love.

You’ll find We Are Soldiers We Have Guns at the intersection of these two decades—the undeniable fun and sounds of the 80s permeate the music, especially the “November”/”Our Lips Are Sealed” 7-inch below.  Beneath that, however, is the careful sonic craft of this most recent decade of pop.  There’s real attention paid to tone—Dahlberg’s voice in particular stands out as being spot on tonally nearly all of the time.  Grand, multi-layered voicings back up the strong bridges and choruses, while un-layered vocals fill out the softer moments.  Like M83 before them, WASWHG have learned how to pull from the 80s without sounding wistful—to use their influences as a boost, not a crutch.

On their early work, there’s a progressive sparseness that drives the power of each track.  Much of the best work on two self-titled E.P.s and the mini album, To Meet is Murder is powered by the interplay between a lonely guitar and Dahlberg’s evocative vocals.  “There’s no need for diplomacy in music,” says Dahlberg, “For every instrument I/we use I ask myself: Would the song be good without this? If the answer is yes, I never use it.”

That attitude is quite apparent.  With their newest release, Get Up, Get Out, and on the lovely 7-inch we have on display here, WASWHG really flex their well honed 80s muscle while retaining the simple power of their early work.  Gone are the sparse guitar-centered arrangements, replaced instead with fuller-yet-no-less-intense pop layouts.

Take the A-side “November” for example.  This is an emotionally sneaky track; the opening strokes lead the listener down the path of a groovy polyrhythmic synth piece.  When the vocals and guitar interrupt, the mood changes subtly to a more poignant pitch, only to be joined back by the keyboard and drums in the lead up to and joyful chorus.  “I’m gonna be like Madonna,” Dahlberg sings.  Madonna had this much fun, but rarely was she as emotionally on-cue as Dahlberg is here, squeaking her way through the tip-toeing verses and soaring over the joyous chorus.

The B-side “Our Lips Are Sealed” is a cover of the 1981 Go-Go’s track, and really, this is a clever, clever re-imagination.  WASWHG have adorned the track with trappings of the soon-to-be-80s that bands like the Go-Go’s helped create.  Where there were only the plodding 70s-style rhythm keeping, WASWHG have added some reverby drum machine hits worthy of any Casio-loving 80s band.  A few well-placed synth lines later, and you forget that the original didn’t sound quite like this.  The modern touches are there as well—the beautifully layered vocals and heightened melody of the chorus gives WASWHG’s version a contemporary tenderness not entirely present in the original.  So, to recap:  cleverly plays with the music’s history; captures its original essence; adds a modern touch.  Yep, this is a great cover.

WASWHG wrote once on their website, “We Are Soldiers We Have Guns will never be cool; never be cute.” While I disagree slightly (See this.  You can’t tell me that’s not cute), the notion is spot on:  this is music that does not pretend to be anything other than direct expression from artist to audience.  “I don’t change my words just because they’re put into lyrics,” says Dahlberg.  “I use them as simply as possible, just as I do when I speak.” There’s no indie-pretension or shameless image shaping, just sounds that move beyond their source to live wholly in the song.  And that makes this nothing short of urgent, beautiful pop music worthy of your attention.

Rick Andrews

Get their LP and EPs here
Three Music Videos:
The Line is a Dot to You
The Great Depression
Me vs. Time=Fixed Game

Read the Ampeater exclusive interview after the jump!

Side A – November Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

Side B – Our Lips Are Sealed Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

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