REVIEW: The Meltaways - s/t 7"

Kelly Kirwan

One thing that's immediately clear about the Meltaways is that they don't have time for your shit. I wouldn't be surprised if they retroactively inspired safety pins in stockings or set the standard for how to scoff at sellouts, in an unblinking show of I-don't-give-a-fuck. Their tracks are wiry whirlpools that'll spike your heart rate even in their wake.

As an all-female trio, with a strong and unabashed foothold in the genre of pandemoniac garage-punk, their beat on the review circuit has often circled back to talk of confidence. And to be honest, I've gone to write the word myself a few times before pressing delete. But one has to wonder if the Meltaways were just another group of punk-prone boys, sweaty and shredding on stage, if this word would so often pepper the leading lines of their descriptions. DIY garage-punk has often thrived off this feeling of subversive self-assuredness, no matter what chromosomes the ensemble act is sporting.

Under the What's for Breakfast? label, the Meltaways' new EP doesn't disappoint when it comes to heavy-hitting drums and thrashing guitar. "Friends First," for example, is a pummel of an album opener. The lyrics are scant and concise, wrapped in a pitch that feels purposefully piquant and teeters off-key. "Admit you're living each day in denial / Admit you're really wrong," they goad, before dropping a line that's sure to redden even the most out-of-touch narcissist in the room: "Not cool enough for your fake friends."

The three join together in a chant intermittently throughout the track, adding to the sense that this song is an anthem against fads and all things surface-deep. In the frenzy, we hear a message that ultimately welcomes individuality—but in a more abrupt, abrasive manner. It falls into the realm of brutal honesty, and it hits the nail on the head.

Then there's "Home," which is faster paced and brimming with a greater sense of urgency, vacillating between frustration and fury. But there's a twist this time, as the object of that fury is an internal one. The lyrics bring us on a journey of self-torment and angst that's alleviated by the singer's better half. It's a scream in defiance of anxious self-reflection, and an exaltation of the person who accepts them anyways. So, beneath the hammering beat and gritted-teeth vibe, it's a new kind of love song—perhaps one that's more honest than what we're used to. 

The Meltaaways have more than a few tricks up their sleeves when it comes to shattering expected tropes, and this 7" proves they’re worth a closer look.

REVIEW: Introverted Dancefloor - Introverted Dancefloor

Kelly Kirwan

Bevan Smith has a fresh moniker. In the past he’s been a facet of electro/indie groups like Ruby Suns and Skallander, while also releasing solo ventures as Signer and Aspen. Now, with a new (eponymously-titled) EP on deck for release, our New Zealand expat has re-emerged under the guise of Introverted Dancefloor. Feels like a bit of riddle, right? Usually you don’t pair introspection with a form of exhibition, but then you hear the “chill” kind of dance music Smith has created and these pieces begin to fit together. This is more of an interpretive, modern kind of dance space than a strobe light-riddled, head-banging EDM den. And while his vocals stay soft and even-keeled, the beats themselves are layered and fast-paced.

Which is ironic, considering the bare-bones arsenal Smith used in his composition. With a microphone, two synthesizers, filter and effects processor, he traipsed across genres like Detroit techno, ambient, and Italo disco for these bass-lined numbers that hover between pop, funk and soul. A MacGyver move, right there. Apparently Smith approached these songs with the ambition and precision of a mad scientist, piling layer upon layer only to strip it down and start again. It was a search for that perfect chemistry, steered by some distant thought or experience he held onto for inspiration.

Take the track "Even If You Try," which was apparently crafted with Smith’s guiding mantra, “Make something like Arthur Russell.” The Introverted Dancefloor interpretation definitely hangs on to this style of remote vocals and fuzzy ambiance, which gives the introduction a kind of space-age quality before dropping the bass line. Then there’s "Happiness is Such a Mess," the first single off the EP, whose foreboding lyrics you’ll be humming under your breath, “If you ever feel unhappy, don’t forget things are bound to change, not that change is such a good thing…” Apparently, Smith had the chords to that song mulling around in his head for years, trying to find the lyrics that matched. The track (along with its offshoot "Pipedream") were also driven by that Morgan Geist/Metro Area sound, which can best be described as the offspring of house and disco revival.

Another ditty to dive into is one I’m sure we’ll find bittersweet as we start rolling into fall, "Giving Up On Summer." The skeleton of the song was written in an almost euphoric state Smith had one afternoon, knowing he wanted the lyrics to be a foil to B-52’s "Summer of Love." (Hint: some flings can’t withstand the equinox). When giving an overhead description for the EP, perhaps Carpark Records described his sound best as “playing the line between fluid melody and drum machine programming.” Smith isn't afraid to cut elements from his prior songs and paste them into tracks further along the album, giving listeners a sense of deja-vu—a kind of deja-vu that has a touch of melancholy, but just a touch.

REVIEW: Total Makeover - Total Makeover

Will Shenton

Ladies and gentlemen, Noah Stitelman is back.

The king of goofball synthpop and former Neighbors frontman, along with Brian Harney, Julie Noyce, and Sam Hendricks, is up on the proverbial horse again with his newest project, Total Makeover. The band's debut takes Stitelman's signature vibe to darker places, generally presenting a more dynamic sound than his previous work—and that's saying something.

The self-titled EP ranges from recognizable pop tracks like "Different Shapes" and "Self Destructive" to the simmering bummer that is "New England Highway," and the opener, "Girls With Boyfriends," even makes its way into punchy, almost pop-punk territory. But despite all this jumping around, the album manages to feel surprisingly cohesive.

It's fun to finally hear how Stitelman works in a group. When we interviewed him last year, he admitted that Neighbors was more or less a solo project largely because he didn't "play well with others," but he clearly seems to have found some people who mesh well with his sound and push him out of his comfort zone. This more passionate, cathartic style is a welcome tonal shift, and I'm excited to see where Total Makeover goes from here.

REVIEW: Jaakko Eino Kalevi

Kelly Kirwan

There’s a pattern shared among many artists as they start their careers. They occupy the outskirts of the mainstream, developing ideas and observations until their work sparks a following. Then comes the switch, from overlooked to revered, and suddenly they're seen as pushing the very boundaries they once idled beside.

It’s a story Jaakko Eino Kalevi is at least somewhat familiar with; having worked as a tram driver in the Finnish capital of Helsinki, scribbling down thoughts and lyrics in a kind of driving-induced fugue state throughout the day.  Then in 2013, his EP Dreamzone broke through, establishing Kalevi as a talented multi-instrumentalist to put on the watch list. After that he relocated to Berlin, a kind of haven for the artistically eccentric and eclectic (not to mention the electronically-inclined), and just recently dropped a self-titled titled LP under the Weird World umbrella.

The reason Jaako Eino Kalevi gravitated towards an eponymous album is twofold: this record will likely introduce him to a wider audience, and too often is his name misspelled or butchered in pronunciation. Perhaps that’s why the first track off the album was given his initials “JEK,” with a repetitive chant-like chorus of his name to sink in for listeners, right off the bat.

Kalevi has a kind of bored, baritone delivery that reminds me of the ennui that so often affected alternative rock of the 90s. He alternates between speaking in Finnish and singing in English, a pattern he admits was unintentional but perhaps a result of moving abroad—“you bring out more of your national features.” For this LP, Kalevi took a hiatus from Berlin for a taste of New York’s own avant-garde indie scene in Brooklyn. There, he collaborated with producer/mixer Nicholas Vernhes, whose past credits include The War on Drugs, Dirty Projectors, and Deerhunter (to name a few). While their joint efforts may not have been completely simpatico, the duo managed to create a textured, percussion-laden album whose tracks cover a wide range yet still feel like a connected ensemble.

In fact, this was one of Kalevi’s requirements, admitting to The Quietus that he wanted the album “to have a feeling that it could have been made in one session…like a band record.” As Kalevi is essentially a one-man band he was able to pull this off, playing all the drums acoustically to add to the “one session” feel.

Tracks that particularly stand out are the funky synths of “Say,” whose beats are impossible not to move to—even if it takes a minute to realize the lyrics are a bit dark (“They say that you rot and shatter…”). Then there’s the upbeat “Hush Down,” with Suad Khalifa’s soft vocals acting as a sweet accompaniment to Kalevi’s straight-faced delivery (she also makes an appearance on “Double Talk,” “Deeper Shadows,” and “Room”). In all, Kalevi’s newest album is a far-ranging, electronic-influenced entity, with foot-tapping beats and pensive lyrics. And perhaps most importantly, it seems that he's accomplished exactly what he set out to do: make us remember his name. 

PREMIERE: Baby Jesus (Self-Titled)

Amanda Stern

Baby Jesus, a five-piece psychedelic garage punk act from Sweden, are releasing their self-titled debut today on Ongakubaka Records—as a person preternaturally drawn to spare, lyric-driven singer-songwriters, I can't tell whether I'm the wrong or exactly the right person to talk about it. Not knowing what to expect upon receiving my copy I gamely, and without hesitation, sat down to listen. Imagine my horror, then, when I pressed play and was immediately blasted in the face with the explosive saw-tooth of noise that is the opener, “Nothing’s For Me."

My dog sat up on her haunches and we looked at each other, alarmed. Three seconds later, I felt a strange sensation coming from my head—was I bleeding? No, something else was happening to me. Was I...bobbing? Yes, I was bobbing (!), and rhythmically, in time to a chord progression I recognized, embedded in a masterful fusion of genres and references. Sensing no danger, my dog plopped back down and we rode out the album together becoming, ten tracks later, quite possibly the world's most unlikely advocates of psychedelic garage punk. No, scratch that. Of Baby Jesus.

Consisting of five grade-school friends now in their twenties, Baby Jesus plays with the assuredness of musicians twice their age, and they’ve created some of the most controlled and glorious noise compositions I’ve ever heard. The nods and allusions to eras past don’t feel like mere winks or asides—rather, one hears a lifetime of passionate listening and devotion to music in its purest forms. There’s atmospheric range in every track, calling up improbable source material: the Beatles, the Doors, Nirvana, the Ramones, the soundtrack to Pulp Fiction, Sal Mineo’s pouty mouth, and Gidget, watching a surf competition on the beach. Despite all these various impressions, though, this isn’t a derivative album. It’s purposeful and articulate, a beautiful homage to heroes harnessed through a unique and original sound.

Recorded live in one night, which is hard to believe given their cohesion and control, the band's exuberance and onstage vivacity is immediately apparent. The album’s first eight tracks blast and flow easily into one another, occasionally sounding like alternate versions of the same song. That consistency is maintained until the last two cuts, the most psychedelic, which take a slow and soft turn and signal the listener to begin winding down. To be honest, I wouldn’t have minded a more even distribution of range from one song to the next.

But the songs aren’t the only compositions here. The album itself will be available on a cassette which has been dipped in high-quality (but sadly not real) gold. The band brought in their good friend Olle Soderlund to design the album art, and the entire package has a limited-edition feel to it. It's something that would look good in a collection, regardless of your musical taste. This just goes to show that Baby Jesus does indeed live by their glorious motto, one all artists should strongly heed: “It’s not a hobby.”

In addition to the cassette and digital copies of the album, Baby Jesus will also be releasing a vinyl LP on San Antonio's Yippee Ki Yay Records in late June.