Matt and Aaron met while studying fiction writing at the New School in New York. It took a while for Aaron and Matt to figure out how to develop their sound. Wanting to create as big of a noise as possible with just guitars and drums, Aaron started playing his guitar through two amps, augmenting the monster sound he created with pedal-based loops. Upping the ante, Matt built a custom analogue drum synth into his kick drum. Running this feed through effects in real time allowed him to get a wholly unique sound out of his kit, completing the Sisters’ one-of-a-kind, 21st Century alt-rock sonic experience.

Aaron originally hails from western Massachusetts, a small farm town not far from the liberal arts Mecca of Northampton where he attended a public charter arts school. Matt is from Oakland, California, where a cultural combination of gangster rap and punk rock dominated his young music life. The pair initially found common ground with bands like Nirvana, Pixies, Pavement and Sonic Youth (the Sisters moniker also gives a nod to the band’s fourth album), but from there their tastes diverged. Matt really loves fellow East Coast masters of noise, Lightning Bolt, while Aaron is into the popier side of 70’s post-punk, My Bloody Valentine-style noise. “We both like noise — and really good hooks in the music and voice,” Aaron notes.

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Sisters - Highway Scratch

To go along with the announcement of their fall tour, The Postelles are releasing a free MP3 cover they recorded of Buddy Holly’s “Everyday.”

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The Postelles - Everyday

Miltner’s contribution to the Asthmatic Kitty Library Catalog Music Series — a collection for use as background in TV, film, art, or anything else you might wish to use it for — includes both lovely, soothing ambient tracks as well as frantic cascades of 8-bit noise. As a whole album, it’s rather jarring and doesn’t cohere very cleanly. But she performs both styles well, producing a record with plenty for electronica fans to enjoy.

The first half of the album includes several tracks-worth of floating synths and tinkling effects, with a standout being “Dreaming and Longing.” On that, angelic vocals sweep over the music in waves. It’s easy enough to listen to this track on its own — it need not be background to anything.

By the fifth track, however, the record takes a sharp turn. Miltner has some fairly self-explanatory track titles for her retro-style gaming music, including “Inchworm in Bitcrunch Garden,” “Adventure Platformer,” and “Space Shooter: Boy Avatar” and “Girl Avatar.” Predictably, anyone who whiled away a summer blowing into cartridges will understand her affection for old-school beats and blurps. Though they have limited shelf-life — some of these tracks may make you want to power up your old Master System more than finish the record — there’s some great stuff, here, too.

“Adventure Platformer” is a propulsive, space-age theme with lovely glockenspiel, something that feels suited to some forgotten game’s “Laboratory” stage. “Space Shooter: Girl Avatar,” is unbearably cute, including mewing cat noises that will probably make you giggle the first time (and skip the track every time after that).

More than anything, Miltner makes music that’s pretty, and occasionally precious. But it’s imbued with emotion, too. If videogames can be pop art, then some of the first art many of us experienced was in videogame music, no matter how crude. Miltner takes individual pieces of beautiful ambient and tessellates it with blocks of sharp-edged 8-bit detritus, arranging a Tetris-inspired mosaic that fuses the best of both worlds.

(Asthmatic Kitty Records, PO Box 1282, Lander, WY 82520)

The band’s creative momentum since has been unwavering. Together they have developed a broad array of musical material and honed an explosive live sound all their own. They spent much of 2009 on successive North American and European tours with bands such Department of Eagles, Grizzly Bear, and the Walkmen, before retreating to a house near East Branch, NY to record their second full length LP.

Pigeons, out now on Secretly Canadian, was recorded to analog tape in the livingroom of a rented house in upstate New York. It represents a full-on collaborative work by a band with an uncanny musical chemistry. The album is produced by bassist Jen Turner and features thick full band arrangements by all members of Here We Go Magic. As they were immersed together in a very reactive and spontaneous creative process, most of the arrangements and textural treatments were born at the same moment as the songs themselves. Songwriter Luke Temple’s evocative melodies and lyrics are thus complimented and fleshed out in completely organic ways.  Taken as a whole, Pigeons is a unique and fascinating journey from start to finish, rooted in driving repetitive rhythms, swathed in a celestial haze, and maintaining a consistent and comfortable expressive breath throughout.

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Here We Go Magic - Terminally Chill

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Deer Tick - Piece By Piece, Frame By Frame

With their Sub Pop debut, That’s How We Burn, It’s hard to pin down Jaill to any particular genre. Their self-described term “psych-pop” leaves something out of the mix. It would be easy to lump Jaill in the same category as Sub Pop success story The Shins at first listen due to Kircher’s vocal styling and the seemingly ambiguous lyrics, yet after a few listens it’s apparent that that comparison completely misses the mark. They obviously have a wide range of influences and take the best parts of each type of music they love, incorporating equal parts indie-pop and old-fashioned rock n’ roll, a hard-on for rockabilly, and a well-worn denim jacket hidden in a closet somewhere that still has all of the punk buttons and patches on it from high school.

The album opens with “The Stroller.” While a good song, it’s a strange choice of an opener, as it only serves to misrepresent the rest of the album. The fact that they released the next song, “Everyone’s Hip,” as the first single is another strange choice; it’s a pretty weak song compared to the remainingtracks. The next two songs, “On the Beat” and “Thank Us Later,” are both incredibly strong, nailing the slacker surf sleaze Jaill does best. The latter of these two songs, with its stoned slide guitar and impenetrable-yet-heartbreaking lyrics, is easily the soundtrack to your worst summer breakup. “Baby I” is another gem, as it rips a page from Elvis Costello’s book, but warps and wraps it with Beach Boys-y doo-wops and lyrics reflecting an aging desperation. The sub-par lyrics and pseudo-metal riff on “Demon” makes the song the only real miss — everything about it screams “filler track.”

While Jaill’s music burns, Kircher’s lyrics proves him to be the real thief of fire: “Grass that fit in my lungs had me hopeful till you held a hunger strike in the hall/and made me crawl and the leaves fell welcomes us to fall,” and “It’s all been done in front of me and I still ain’t knowing how/your world it grows like an enemy inside me’s how I feel right now” from “Thank Us Later” perfectly describes a failed relationship with fresh and vivid imagery. It’s amazing what Kircher’ and Jaill are able to craft using drugs and girls as the predominant subject matter. Even more amazing is their way of doing it while charming the pants off of anyone.

(Sub Pop Records, 2013 Fourth Avenue, Third Floor, Seattle, WA 98121)

Verbicide Free Download: Click here to download “The Stroller” by Jaill

Verbicide Free Download: Click here to download “Everyone’s Hip” by Jaill

It’s easy to give Blonde Redhead points for trying, because so many bands of their age (looking at you, Quasi) would simply copy-and-paste the same prehistoric formula they first achieved notoriety for. They don’t get that complacent; it’d be fair to say Blonde Redhead sounds like a completely different group 20 years later, but they might be moving in the wrong direction. Penny Sparkle embraces the ‘80s melodrama of Depeche Mode, Cocteau Twins, and (a little more recent) Portishead to incredibly varying effect.

Occasionally, the sound comes together quite well — the title track marries Kazu Makino’s always-gorgeous falsetto with a plodding, post-industrial drum machine, which gives the song a delectable public-access television ambience. But for the most part, Penny Sparkle is full of one-dimensional tracks that go on far longer than they should. The six-minute “Love or Prison” climbs up a shuttering guitar chug and then simply falls off the other end, a buildup with no payoff — but the buildup isn’t nearly interesting enough to justify that. The album has a decent amount of ideas, but it never hits its stride, and instead mires the listener in a series of empty vessels.

(4AD, 17-19 Alma Road, London, SW18 1AA)

Verbicide Free Download: Click here to download “Here Sometimes” by Blonde Redhead

7:45 pm, Nashville, Tennessee, waiting in line. After a lengthy wait, which causes us to miss the opener, we’re finally in our seats: stage left, just below the balcony, and directly in front of the speakers. This could get loud, folks. At least, I hope so. By 8:30 the room is packed. The crowd is lively, talkative, and annoyed with a much heavier level of security than is usual. The Ryman’s stage is littered with instruments: two drum kits, guitars, basses, violins, shakers, tambourines, keyboards, moogs, synths, a piano, an organ, a glockenspiel, a hurdy gurdy, and a marching drum. Arcade Fire’s reputation for a large production and multi-instrumentalist approach to their live shows seems to be true.

Minutes later (8:34, in fact) the band comes trickling onto the stage, and with a simple wave of “hello” they launch into the frolicking and appropriately titled “Ready to Start.” As a few quick instrument changes occur and the tambourine locks in a new tempo, frontman Win Butler yells, “It’s great to finally be in Nashville!” I was right, this is getting loud. Or maybe I’m finally old. Either way, my earplugs are now in, and I’m pounding my fists along with “Neighborhood #2.” I’m not the only one. The crowd is unusually into this show, and the excitement is refreshing… Nashville rarely shows this kind of emotion at concerts.

The band is changing instruments again. I should get used to this, it happens all night. “We’re honored to be here in the Ryman, and we bow down to the historicity,” shouts Win. “It’s really beautiful…but we’re still trying to be ourselves up here… This song’s called ‘No Cars Go.’” “Haiti” quickly follows and we finally hear Régine Chassagne take center stage. It’s at this point I really start to notice the two violin players sawing away and adding the requisite layers of light female vocals. Everyone on stage is pulling double duty tonight, and Régine proves it by finishing the song in competition with Jeremy Gara’s drumming as she jumps behind a second kit. Wasn’t expecting that all!

“Half Light II (No Celebration)” gives way to their newest album’s title track, “The Suburbs,” followed by it’s sister cry “Suburban War.” The album version is beautiful and controlled, but here, as Win repeatedly belts the line, “All my old friends, they don’t know me now!” I start to identify. I’m screaming it too. I can hear the frustration of living on the road, and of life changing as we all get older. This lyric is one I’ve said before. No one back in my sprawling cookie-cutter hometown suburbs knows me anymore either.

More instrument swapping. Win dons a classical guitar, looks behind him to brother William, and grinning says, “Alright, we’re in a church. We’re in a church… let’s give it a try,” and the pipe organ rolls forth. Half way through “Intervention” (from 2007’s Neon Bible), Win throws his classical guitar to a roadie and slings on a Telecaster. David Dark put it well when he described this sort of thing as “somehow medieval and fresh and urgent all at once, with strings and electric guitar, marching band, minstrel-gypsy-troubadour fare coming out of a tavern full of clear-eyed, optimistic, coed worker priests” (The Sacredness of Questioning Everything, 2009).

“Crown of Love,” “Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels),” and “Deep Blue” zip along and give way to the staccato of “We Used to Wait.” Halfway through this song, Win removes his mic and leaves the stage to briefly march across the seats in the inner circle, stopping to pick up a folding chair and pass it over the crowd before returning to stage. Then comes the harder driving “Neighborhood #3 (Power Out),” and the crowd’s participation is more obvious now… everyone’s in unison for “Is it a dream? Is it a lie?/I think I’ll let you decide/Just light a candle for the kids/Jesus Christ don’t keep it hid!” And boom, “Rebellion (Lies)” closes us out. Lights die. Band leaves.

It’s not over, is it? No, we know it’s not, but we all play along. Drumming the seats, clapping and screaming. Let the ruckus build the energetic frenzy. Let the band rest for a more frenetic finale.

And soon, Arcade Fire returns to the stage to pound out “Keep the Car Running,” complete with hurdy-gurdy, and “Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains).” For the latter, Régine skips and dances around carrying colored streamers to augment her sparkly, sequined dress. And finally, for the long awaited closing number, while William spins around mercilessly beating a marching drum, we all sing together the band’s best-known anthem, “Wake Up.” We need the revelation they’re bringing. “It’s time to get busy being born again. It’s time to rock. It’s time to wake up. The time is now,” (Dark).

Suddenly it’s over. Security is urgently ushering everyone towards the exits. And my one complaint surfaces: too short! Clocking in at just under an hour-and-a-half, and ticket prices of $50, I expected to hear more. Guys, you have three albums, so there’s no lack of material… what gives? Were we not a rockin’ enough audience? ‘Cause trust me, we were. Out of the 20-plus shows I’ve seen in Nashville’s quintessential Ryman Auditorium, I can think of only three that were “sold out” shows. That is, sold out, and everyone came, not just your usual “the back seven rows are empty, but there were no tickets left because a bunch of lame-asses didn’t care enough to show.” I recall Neil Young, Ryan Adams, and Sufjan Stevens filled the seats. Sufjan even managed to have more people on stage than Arcade Fire. But not one of those artists ever produced an audience that enthusiastically stood singing along with the entire show. Tonight, Arcade Fire pulled that off. In a town known for it’s stoic, prove-yourself-to-me, hipster, amuse-me, breed of concert goers, a different sort of ethos broke through. “Now the kids are all standing with their arms folded tight,” (“Month of May,” The Suburbs) didn’t ring true here. I saw emotion.

Maybe everyone came from out of town? If they did, it was worth the drive…

Gorgeous string arrangements back up Wells’ style of intimate, cozy folk.  The opener is definitely perfect for a Wes Andersen film, and “Why Didn’t Someone Tell Me” beautifully illustrates a “we’ve all been there” moment. “Plainsong, Folksong” kicks the butt of anything in Jack Johnson or John Mayer’s overrated catalogs. The precious melody of “To Live in Dreams and Memories” is befitting of a moment around the campfire, or while going over just where it all went wrong. I’m not so sure that the elegant closer “Whose Sound Dies Out Along The Wind” actually needed to be over eight minutes long, but it does accurately describe the futility of trying to appease a jealous lover.

Wells’ tunes are perfect for an evening dinner party, but the subject matter is best appreciated once you’ve been there yourself.  Tailor made for fans of both Johnston, Elliott Smith, or Sufjan Stevens.

(Louisville is for Lovers, PO Box 406801, Louisville, KY 40204)

Boosted by a fearless, punch-you-in-the-face positivity that is both rare and refreshing, Abner Trio mash tumbling guitar lines, bewildering arrangements, and idiot-savant-spoken-word into songs that (amazingly) sound a lot like pop music. Beneath the weirdness, the music of Abner Trio contains an unwavering and highly developed pop-sensibility, brought to the forefront by their densely layered and meticulously arranged vocal melodies. Bothering very little with traditional song structures, Abner seems to allow the songs to move where they’re supposed to, lilting and bursting along like a feel-good Sebadoh gorged on Joan of Arc.

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Abner Trio - You're Gorgeous, Believe It!