Review Archive Series #9: Mew, Deerhoof, Panda Bear, and Whitehouse

The following review represents a series of reviews published during the latter half of 2006, and in early 2007, near the end of my tenure as the resident music critic and assistant Arts Editor for The Phoenix: the official student newspaper of UBC-Okanagan in Kelowna, B.C. They are reprinted here with my own permission, and further edits were made where I saw fit, because I do what I want, bitch.

Mew, And the Glass Handed Kites
Sony, 2006.

And the Glass Handed Kites is the smash-hit sophomore release from the Danish progressive rock group Mew, and if you were in Denmark right now, you'd already know that. In fact, if you were Danish, you wouldn't even be reading this right now (never-mind the fact that the album has a sticker telling you just how "brilliant" and "strangely beautiful" this album is, satements which I assure you are NOT libelous, as hackneyed and trite as they are). Yes, if you were Danish you would know the names of Jonas Bjerre, Bo Madsen, Silas Utke Graae Jørgensen and Johan Wohlert by heart. Why, they'd be your George, Paul, John, and Ringo! You'd see this review as complete kitsch; the barely informative, redundant wankings of some jobless Arts student. Assuming you are Danish (remember: we're pretending), you're absolutely right. Nothing needs to to be said about this band. In Europe, and coming soon to an Asia near you, they're huge! "Sure", you'd scoff, "but so is David Hasselhoff." Shame on you naysayers and player-haters! And the Glass Handed Kites is dreamy pop perfection distilled into fourteen easily digestable tracks. It takes no effort to love this album, all you need are ears! See how I just wrote "takes" instead of "requires" or "necessitates"? It's that easy! Need a reference check? And the Glass Handed Kites is the sort of shoegazer epic My Bloody Valentine just doesn't make anymore and cold-blooded Coldplay can barely fathom conjuring in their weakly impotent, post-Radiohead pop commercials. For the remaining skeptics, I recommend listening to the three songs which I feel compose the album's power-triptych: "Apocalypso", "Special", and "The Zookeeper's Boy." If you haven't fallen madly in love with this band after hearing any one of these songs, let alone all three, you are not Danish, and you never will be.


Panda Bear, Person Pitch
Paw Tracks, 2007

For fans and critics alike, Noah Lennox's latest solo outing, Person Pitch, has a lot of lofty expectations to live up to. As a full-time member of the unpredictable art-rock quartet, Animal Collective, whose last full-length Feels joyously wormed its way into the collective hearts of many condescending critics and hopeful fans (including yours truly), Panda Bear risks treading redundant sonic ground, alienating Animal Collective fans, or worse, producing another Danse Manatee (arguably A.C.'s worst album). Thankfully, Person Pitch entirely avoids each of these possible creative pitfalls, delivering instead eight pitch-perfect pop songs which draw fantastic images of Zombies attacking Brian Wilson's blissed-out beach house as reverb-soaked foams crashes soflty upon the shore. Produced on his laptop, and composed entirely of Lennox's voice and found samples, the album is a perfect example of Panda Bear's unique pop sensibilities and increasingly approachable songcraft. Person Pitch is a far cry from the wild psychedelic freak-outs of Animal Collective's 2004 noise rock record Here Comes the Indian, as much as it is a deviation from the painful mourning which he expressed on his first official solo record, Young Prayer. Whether it be wading in swimming pools on a sunny summer day, drifting in and out through morphine drips, or the wet anxious lips of your first, Person Pitch sounds like every sweet memorable moment of your life condensed into forty-five minutes. I could sail on these sounds for days at a time.


Deerhoof, Friend Opportunity
Kill Rock Stars, 2007

The cat is finally out of the bag: Deerhoof are, without question, one of the sweetest bands currently rocking on the green planet. Their ninth studio album to date, Friend Opportunity finds the terrific trio of vocalist and bassist Satomi Matsuzuki, guitarist John Dieterich, and drum-savant Greg Saunier satisfied in having outgrown their garage roots and art-rock pretensions, and ready to become the biggest stars in the Milky Way galaxy. Satomi introduces herself (and by association, the rest of the band) in Friend Opportunity's first song, saying "Meet me. Meet the perfect me," in the album's opening track, and she is absolutely right. Though the album is considerably shorter in length than its predecessor, it is much more focused than The Runners Four; featuring tighter, brighter, and more dynamic arrangements, supporting quirky, memorable songs guaranteed to be bouncing around in your brain-case for days on end. This is the sound of a group in their finest form, playing purely for the sheer fun of it. Seriously. If you even need proof, "Kidz Are So Small"s alchemical mixture of booty bass, Thomas Dolby "She Blinded Me with Sciene" style keyboards, and Satomi's endless repetition of "If I were a man and you a dog, I'd through a stick for you" is so infectiously silly that it's simply impossible to resist its charms. Check your chest cousin, 'cuz if you don't get Deerhoof, you got no heart n' no soul.

Whitehouse, Asceticists 2006
Susan Lawly, 2006

William Bennett is the father of power electronics, and, along with TG pioneer Genesis P. Orridge and early tape manipulator Boyd Rice (aka Non), one of the godfathers of noise music as we know it today. Without the hateful, insolent influence of Whitehouse, current harsh noise heavyweights such as Wolf Eyes, John Wiese, or even No Fun curator Carlos Giffoni would not possibly perform as they do today. That said, being influential does not instantly make one worth listening to, and if there is one thing Ascetecists 2006 proves, it demonstrates, without remorse or reproach, that Whitehouse's white hot power electronics and broken glass cut-ups of Bennett's virulent rants are just as powerful and relevant as the current noise-mongering of their contemporaries. Ascetecists 2006, despite Whitehouse's reputation as detestable noisemakers unworthy of your attention or even your respect, is not an anti-record. True, the back of the album does say "warning: extreme electronic and acoustic music - please acquire with caution," but Asceticists 2006 is an album, and believe it or not, it does contain actual songs possessing deliberate form and content, lyrical subject matter (as obscene and incendiary as ever), and building progressions of high frequency violence coupled with intense, cut-up glitchscapes. What the fuck is 'real music' anyways? I'll tell you what it is, absolute SHIT! Ascetecists 2006 is an expert, point-blank execution of a single-minded concept which could only be pulled off by one of extreme music's most (dis)reputable acts. The title of Asceticists 2006's final cut says it all, dump the fucking rubbish indeed!