PREMIERE: Grumpus - Sequestrian

Will Shenton

After listening to Grumpus' last EP, Man Child (2014), it became clear that Graham Stevenson was an artist unafraid of experimentation. The record ranged in style from ambient, almost Godspeed You! Black Emperor-esque instrumentals to effortlessly catchy indie pop, with a smattering of Americana folk and Latin-influenced guitar inbetween. Unsurprisingly, his latest effort, Sequestrian, is similarly eclectic without ever missing a beat.

Driven by two irresistible singles (more than half of the EP, at least in terms of duration), it demonstrates a repertoire that's hard to classify beyond the aforementioned label of "indie pop." Once again, we're greeted by an instrumental intro, but "Meanderthal" plays with synthesizers and a drum machine that haven't made an appearance on Grumpus' recordings in the past.

The meat of the EP begins with "Waters," an upbeat tune with some playfully idiosyncratic lyrics ("Well your backless dress / And your spinelessness / Well it's feelin' good on my scoliosis"). The hand-percussion beat is almost reminiscent of something from Ocarina of Time, employing a goofy bloop at the end of every measure, adding to the track's genial air.

"Grumpus Christmas Special" comes next, alternating between sparse verses and richly-textured choruses, all supported by a propulsive beat and rigid electric guitars. Despite the cheeky title, it's the darkest the album ever gets: "The cold caress of TV glow / Medicine the undertow / You won't come back to me / Come back anymore."

It's followed by "Weakdays," which, in addition to rounding out a pretty great string of portmanteaus, concludes the EP with a beautifully somber folk melody. I can't help but think of indie folk group Deer Tick whenever I hear Stevenson's voice, and here the comparison is probably most obvious.

And yet, Grumpus always seems to have a pleasantly surprising trick up his sleeve. Each chorus features a crescendoing orchestral section, and by the end of the song the strings have swelled into a mournful wall of sound. It's a fitting and emotional way to end the record, as it speaks to Stevenson's greatest strength—the ability to make powerful music without taking himself too seriously.

REVIEW: Flaural - Over Imaginary Cigarettes

Kelly Kirwan

Psych-rock has had quite the renaissance of late. It permeates the indie scene, which makes sense, since independent artists aren't usually about the neat lines so often found in mainstream pop (not always, just often—no side-eye here). And so bands like Flaural emerge with a heavy dose of distortion and reverb to satisfy our craving for '60s-influenced tracks, adding a dash of shoegaze and new wave just to keep us on our toes. Because, while Flaural may draw inspiration from the genres of old, they're not looking to mimic what's been done before. Instead, the Denver-based quartet is crafting their own sound while following the ethos of a few established genres.

One of the underlying themes of Flaural is this sense of a fresh start. Its members came together after previous projects fell apart (A Band In Pictures, Bloodhound, Shady Elders), and found in their group a clean slate for them to color in any way they chose. Enter their new EP, Over Imaginary Cigarettes, out via Play Plus Records.

The debut single, "Nonnie," starts off with a bare, almost echoing space-age sound. The introduction lingers in this otherworldly expanse, before breaking into a propulsive beat and steady bass. It's a track that ebbs and flows in pace, but at it's quickest step, "Nonnie" feels more evocative of post-punk than an acid-tab-on-the-tongue jam session. Its riffs will rile you up without being too rough, then just as quickly dip into a synth that’s extraterrestrial.

Its follow-up track, "Nowhere Near," continues with these experimental synths—which sound vaguely woodwind—as fuzzy amps and steady drums work their way into the melody. The vocals have a subdued, somewhat mumbling quality, as the song revolves around the simple warning, “Don’t you ever try to love me, girl.” The line is emphasized by its relatively slow and featherweight delivery—a contrast to its encapsulating verses. And so it succeeds in becoming a sly earworm, murmured under your breath after the song ends, because isn’t it human nature to have your interest piqued when something’s off limits?

The closing track, "Mind Field," bursts onto the scene with full-bodied instrumentals and electronic detailing. The guitar work is quick footed and the drums heavy handed, making the track a banger true to the rock 'n’ roll genre. It also sticks with Flaural’s affinity for a slight melodic abrasion countered by even-toned vocals. Listening through their EP, it becomes clear that the band isn’t concerned with being clear-cut or easily categorized. Their songs go rogue when it comes to structure, in a way that doesn’t feel schizophrenic. Instead, it’s refreshing, soothing, and enrapturing all at once (with the exception of "Heat Seater," which is downright explosive and gritty for any mosh-pits you may find yourself in). 

Over Imaginary Cigarettes is an EP that shifts and evolves with each chord progression. And while I could list the niches and influences Flaural has sewn among it’s five tracks, I’d rather save the hyphens and have you pluck them out for yourself.

REVIEW: In The Whale - Full Nelson

Raquel Dalarossa

At first glance, In The Whale look like just a couple of guys—one from a tiny town in Colorado, the other from a slightly less tiny town in Texas. But the two-man band have quite literally come a long way from their provincial roots, touring relentlessly with the likes of Jane’s Addiction, Presidents of the United States, Local H, and Slash, and slowly establishing one hell of a passionate fanbase. They’re a hardworking band, no doubt, but on top of that, they’re an electric, red-blooded band making punch-you-in-the-face, high-octane rock, so it’s no wonder so many are paying close attention.

Though they've officially been at it since 2011, their latest release, Full Nelson, is one of only four EPs averaging around four tracks each. Their recorded output, they've said, is largely dictated by the reaction their songs get at live shows, and listening to Full Nelson makes it clear that this process has allowed them to be rather exacting. These tracks make hardcore punk sound effortless—they are tightly written and performed with blistering, searing energy. 

The two religiously-raised boys combine traditional hardcore elements a la Black Flag or Dead Kennedys with the rough-and-tumble swagger of Johnny Cash, while biblically-aware lyrics paint a picture of the quintessential rock 'n' roll sinner. In Full Nelson's opening line, singer Nate Valdez spits out, "Devil's in your radio / He's in my voice and he's control." The degenerate character takes on slightly different forms as the EP plays—in the second track, "Whiskey, Gin & Beer," he's an unapologetic, raging alcoholic, while in “Johnny Two-a-Day” he’s a “small-town kid” who “drinks too much” and “beats his girl.”

Nearly all of the songs are fierce and blazing with little aspects of classic rock and roll incorporated into their fabric, but none flaunt this formula more than mid-EP scorcher “Cavity.” It encroaches on thrash-metal territory with drummer Eric Riley’s breakneck speed, but reminds us of an earthy blues with its “Bad to the Bone”-esque sputter and lyrics like “I long for that sugar kiss.” And in “Cavity”’s ultimate foil and EP outlier, “Mail,” these down-home touches very suddenly take center stage. An acoustic guitar and piano seem to appear out of nowhere, and Nate gently sings “Went out and drank up all my money / Spent it all on the devil’s honey / Lord please change my ways.”

And with that, In The Whale make it very obvious that they won’t necessarily be tied to any one genre. Though they lean decidedly towards hardcore rock, their backgrounds seem to inform and, indeed, fortify their music.

REVIEW: Land Lines - The Natural World

Will Shenton

Minimalism might be the most powerful technique in all of music. I don't necessarily mean the cyclical, hypnotic contemporary classical of Philip Glass and David Lang (though that's pretty great in its own way), but more the general philosophy of using subtle, spare instrumentation and vocals. Perhaps "restraint" is a better word.

Regardless of what term you want to use, Colorado-based trio Land Lines are masters of it. On their sophomore LP, The Natural World, every beat, lyric, and bowed string is presented against such a minimal background that you can't help but give it your full attention. Every move is profoundly intentional, and demands appreciation.

The problem with minimalism is that it can often feel unfinished or emotionally flat. Not so with these guys. While their songs are generally sparse, they certainly don't shy away from some explosive choruses. "Etiquette," for example, simmers its way from little more than pizzicato cello and percussion to a passionate, arresting yell from vocalist Martina Grbac. It's dramatic and powerful in a way that you wouldn't normally expect from this type of reserved music.

The album vacillates between simple, unadorned tracks like "Logic," "Matter," and "Will + Worry" and driving, up-tempo pieces like "Limb From Limb" (my personal favorite) and "Plans." There are even a few, like the opener "Rivers + Streams," that take a few pages from more traditional chamber pop. They're able to keep things moving, vary their sound, and somehow never lose that tonal thread that ties everything together.

I could probably wax lyrical about The Natural World for a thousand more words, but I think the music speaks for itself. I'm amazed that Land Lines haven't gotten more attention, and this latest release on Misra seems poised to be their national breakout—I know it's on my shortlist for the best of 2015. This is clearly a group that's at the top of their game. 

Interview: Crystal Ghost

Will Shenton

Replete with funk, ambience, and plenty of pop, Crystal Ghost (better known to his friends as Elliott Baker) emerged onto the Denver electronic scene in late 2014 with his short, but resoundingly sweet self-titled EP on Stereocure. Ranging from mellow synth jams like “Summer Song” to low-key dance numbers “What Your Body Needs” and “Worth the Trouble,” Baker’s debut demonstrates a versatility and willingness to experiment that demands weeks of compulsive replays. Not bad for a five-track album, and I think it bodes well for any Crystal Ghost releases the future may hold.

I recently sat down with Elliott to pick his brain about his songwriting process, some unintentional name confusion in his home state, and why he keeps accidentally writing songs about girls.

ThrdCoast: What’s your musical background, and how did you first get into electronic music?

Elliott Baker: I actually have a pretty sparse musical background. I started music when I was in fourth or fifth grade playing cello and trumpet in band, but after that I took a really long break and didn’t really start making music again until I was in college, I guess it was my junior year. I started out making kind of stereotypical guitar stuff, because that was the first instrument I picked up when I started playing again. I was doing garage band stuff, and then I bought a Roland SP-404 sampler which got me into electronic music and looping. From there I got Ableton and an APC and I started making remixes that weren’t so great [laughs].

I met up with RUMTUM while I was living in Ohio, and he was instrumental in getting me to branch out into the electronic scene. After that I moved back to Colorado and started a little duo with my sister called CCERULEANN, which was a dream-pop kind of thing. I started doing my own stuff under the name CC/NN, which was a terrible name [laughs], but I wanted to stay affiliated with CCERULEANN to some extent.

I was making stuff that I enjoyed, but I never felt really immersed in what I was creating, so I started Crystal Ghost to step away from that. It had its own ideas and I didn’t want to be stuck adhering to the older ones. That was when I moved back to Denver from Boise. I bought this big, 600-pound Yamaha organ at a thrift store for a hundred bucks, this amazing organ, and that’s what I wrote most of the EP with.

TC: Where’d you get the name from?

EB: That’s a good question.

TC: Every time I Google “Crystal Ghost” to get to your Bandcamp page, it comes up with the Crystal Ghost Town in Colorado. I didn’t know if it had anything to do with that.

EB: Yeah! I didn’t even know there was a Crystal Ghost Town in Colorado until I started Googling myself. I originally picked the name Cherokee Ghost, but I only had it for like a week because… well, I’m like 1/32 Cherokee, a really miniscule amount, and I really idealized that, but I figured since I’m a Caucasian dude it probably wasn’t the best name to go with. Since we, you know, murdered pretty much all of them. I had a bunch of terrible dreams about it, actually, so I decided to go with something different.

As dumb and hip as it is I’m very much into crystals and all that stuff, and since I already had the “Ghost” part, I thought it sounded pretty cool when I put them together.  It seemed like an appealing name that would draw people in, and I just stuck with that.

TC: What can you tell me about your songwriting process?

EB: I think it’s kind of a juvenile process. I know there are people who have very systematic ways of going about things, but… I’ve only really been serious about making music for the last four years or so, I’m still pretty new to it. I just sort of sit around, turn on the synthesizer, and once I find a sound I like I zone out a bit and make the first few loops with it. Then I build off of that, it’s fairly randomized. If I think, instinctively, that the drums will inspire me to do more with it, I’ll work on those next. It’s kind of silly, like I said, there’s no real system to it.

The only thing I ever feel like I really have to do is if I get vocals in my head, I stop everything else, because I’m really self-conscious of them. This EP is the first thing I’ve done where I’ve done much singing, because my sister has an amazing voice and I’ve always had her sing on the stuff that I make. But she moved to London, so I’m kind of on my own for that now [laughs]. So if I have lyrics in my head I have to get them down immediately, because otherwise I’m going to forget. And if I don’t have any vocal ideas, I’ll just have to start mumbling consonant sounds and fill in the rest later. Everything else is very sporadic and random.

TC: Do you find yourself coming back to a lot of similar lyrical themes?

EB: Yeah, but I didn’t really realize it at first. There are a bunch of songs that I’m only performing live at the moment, that I either haven’t recorded yet or don’t intend to record, but I realized one day that every single one is about women. My friend, Frugal Father, came up to me and said, “What’s that song you were singing about that girl?” And my other friend said, “You mean every single one?” [Laughs] I thought about it and I realized, oh crap! I do sing all of my songs about girls.

So with the stuff I’m writing next I’d like to branch away from that, but not abandon the theme completely, because there’s a lot of inspiration to be drawn from heartbreak and from the beauty of other humans. I think mostly I want to sing about hope, as in I hope things get better with this girl, I hope the world gets better in some way… I want to sing about things that will inspire people. Not in an egotistical, “people should listen to what I’m singing about because it’s important” kind of way, just to give a sense of optimism. I think that’s something that’s missing a lot from contemporary society, everyone’s just marching in place, doing their thing, with no real hope of getting outside of themselves.

TC: Who would you say are some of your biggest influences?

EB: Metronomy for sure. I have literally every single Metronomy vinyl that’s ever been put out, all the 45s, everything. I’m very much into their older stuff, that whole electro-pop punk kind of thing. There are a lot of sounds that are awkward but still fit together, and I’ve always found it intriguing how sounds that by themselves might be unpleasant can come together into something cohesive. It’s the awkward beauty of that wallflower you see at a party.

Caribou, for sure, has been a big influence at least lately. Maybe not so much on the EP, but I’ve been listening to their newest album pretty much non-stop. I guess in terms of genres, I really enjoy jazz and R&B stuff as well. I like the way that The Weeknd and Frank Ocean can bring elements of all that together and make a contemporary version, with hip-hop and pop influences.

TC: You said you were working on some new stuff, what’s the plan?

EB: Well, it’s not so much a new project. I’m working with… it’s weird I met this guy randomly on the internet who goes by Crystal Coast, and the only reason I did was because someone accidentally tagged me in one of his posts. He does this really cool sort of ambient hip-hop with some elements of trap – it’s pretty minimal, you wouldn’t call it a trap song – and I did some vocals for one of his tracks. It was the first time I’d done that without having anything to do with the production, which was pretty cool. It was a little bit of a confidence booster to be solicited for vocals like that.

Sister Crayon also hit me up, so I’ll hopefully be working on a song with them soon as well. In terms of other stuff I’ve got a Novelty Daughter remix that I’m working on, another one for Frugal Father… oh! I’m working on a side project with Steffaloo, we’re going to call it Ruby Jack. We’re basically going to send each other our respective parts, I’m going to be making the music and she’ll be singing, which will be very cool. I’m trying to branch out a lot, because I feel like the more seeds you plant, the better the chances of making a money tree grow [laughs].

I’m also going to be working on stuff just as Crystal Ghost. I want to make a full LP, but before that I'm planning on putting out another solo EP, as well as a split one with Frugal Father. I’ve got maybe ten or twelve beginnings of songs, but I don’t know how many of those will come to fruition.