With both it’s this constant “Oh yeah!” experience provided when I pick them up and am taken aback by the inexplicable atmosphere they have. A track from any of Film School’s albums coming up on shuffle is never unwelcome, but there are ideal conditions in which “Pitfalls” or “Capitalized” are just as cozy and perfect as Highland wool. A state of mind where it’s like you’re listening to Hideout for the first time again.

Maybe it’s the history. Greg Bertens got the School up and running with members of Pavement. Which gave the band instant credibility while still counting its core members as sorta newbies on the scene.

Maybe it’s the rotating cast of support surrounding that core. Each album has been very distinct from the last. An experience that clearly nods to influences, but is also hard to put a finger on. The albums all remind you of something, but not in a derivative way. It’s that sweater again and its strange weather. It’s not heavy enough for a driving snow and it’s too toasty to wear with shorts. You’ll never understand a Film School album like a good pair of jeans.

“I didn’t plan Film School to be this way, but ever since the first recordings people have come in and out of the band,” says Bertens. “Jason and I have been the only constant over the years.”

It’s not a bad thing.

Jason Ruck is credited as a third of the songwriting engine in the band’s current configuration. A lot of the atmosphere is made up on his contributions on keyboard. As Bertens puts it, “I like music to have some ethereal quality to it. Even songs like ‘Sunny Day’ has some ethereal qualities to it. This is accomplished more in the production that the songwriting.”

If that’s not a track that looks familiar to you, it’s because it’s on the recent release, Fission. If you haven’t heard it yet it is as strong as any Film School release, but a pretty dramatic shift in sound.

“Fission is all about trying some new things. On Hideout I had several songs with female vocals and wanted more of that. When we first started writing material for the new album I asked people to bring in songs and Lorelei [Plotczyk] came in with a bunch.”

He goes on to explain that Plotczyk was expecting him to be singing lead, which had been the standard on previous releases. But this time around, it’s Plotczyk’s voice up front — on more tracks than Greg by far.

“There was some resistance at first, and our manager at the time wasn’t happy about it,” explains Bertens. “But I could hear how her vocals and songs would be produced, and I was sure our fans would be into it.”

It definitely makes you more aware of what the rest of the band has going on. On my first drive I was sitting upright by the third track, “Time To Listen.” I could hear what it would sound like if Greg was at his usual spot singing, but with him off-center, all I could think about was the guitar. It made me revisit “Sick Of The Shame” from the self-titled album, its longest track and one without a lot of vocals getting in the way of Greg’s playing. And then, of course, I came back to Fission all over again. It’s the same work that Bertens was doing in 2006, but without his voice it just seems different — is different, with Lorelei. You’re more aware of her sound as you’re more aware of everyone else’s.  Of Lorelei’s singing, Greg commented, “[It] takes some of the pressure off me! On the songs she sings lead I get to go off to the corner and shred — [it's] every guitarist’s dream.”

The end result is nice for us, too. I knew enough to snag their previous releases, but it was really this album that made me a fan — one of those great experiences where you go back and listen to the old stuff and get into it like you hadn’t before. Fission made me finally curious enough about the early Brilliant Career to ask about a possible second coming of their out-of-print debut.

“I guess it’s coming up on that 10-year mark when most bands re-release their first album,” said Bertens. “It’s crazy to think about that. If fans are interested, I’ll put something together.”

I’d seen them last in New York on their tour supporting the release of At War With The Mystics. So I knew what I was in for. That crowd years ago was typical New York City — as in, they made soccer hooligans look like a roomful of old ladies at tea. I’m sure the band fed off that energy. Wayne in his famous hamster ball was able to essentially walk normally on the packed crowd. He wore a headset and was able to sing the first song while running and bouncing off the hundreds of raised hands, arms made temporarily superhuman for the four minutes of “Race For The Prize.” I think I even remember him airborne at one point, as if he were just another balloon bouncing around Hammerstein.

That sort of universal frenetic energy was not a part of this experience at Mountain Park. Half the crowd was in a lather, but half were content chilling on blankets on the back lawn. The hamster ball was a little like racquetball without side or back walls.  Coyne only stayed in it for a few minutes, and then made his way back to stage and burst the bubble. He’d come out on stage prior to the show and asked the crowd of people sitting behind the soundboard to pack in forward for his rolling entrance. Very few did. It’s just something idiosyncratic about western Massachusetts crowds. I’ve seen it at other shows up here, too — almost as though music is a backdrop for hanging out instead of the reason to be there. It’s a bonding moment for friends, sure, but so strange for live music to be treated by a sizable minority like music from a stereo filling a house party.

The seeming apathy of a portion of the crowd — the same apathy that pissed off Feist enough for her to get confrontational with a Northampton crowd — had little effect on the Lips, though. Wayne was constantly trying to rile up the crowd from their picnic blankets, but you could tell it was for their own benefit.

“Come on! It’s fucking Saturday night! I mean, for us it’s always Saturday night, but look at this place!”

Even in the heat he was having a blast. The venue is amazing. Huge pines and gorgeous grass befitting a golf course, rolling hills — perfect for confetti flying everywhere, dozens of huge balloons bouncing throughout, the bear costume, the Pink Floyd-worthy projector behind them, the huge hands. Everything. They brought out their full bag of tricks, and, like any good Lips show, promotion of the most recent album was hardly the point of being there. I only counted two songs from their current release Embryonic, and neither were popular favorites like “Watching The Planets.” The boys play what they want. They did trot out The “Yeah Yeah Yeah Song” for the crowd, the almost required “Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots,” and a surprise visit to Transmissions From the Satellite Heart‘s “She Don’t Use Jelly,” but everything else was all about atmosphere and the experience of that night.

One of the best moments was a sing-along. Before the show there was a little girl with a sign that read “Today’s my birthday, Wayne, can I come up?” Of course you can come up — Wayne put her with the dancers for the first half of the show, and later even brought her out center stage to introduce her to the crowd. “This is Sage, and she’s nine years old today!” Roars and applause followed. He brought out one of his tech guys then too, Terry, saying it was also his birthday. And then, of course, he led the place and the band in singing “Happy Birthday To You,”  correcting the crowd by pluralizing “birthdays” during the song.

All in all, another amazing night courtesy of the band everyone really should see before they die. Even if the fire needed a lot of stoking, Wayne and the guys kept it burning all night.

Seriously? Right on.

That’s how my interview started with the French-Finnish band The Dø. After all, Guinness was an accident — someone burnt a batch of barley and said WTF, let’s finish this beer anyway. Penicillin was an accident too, and look how much good that’s brought to the world.

So the album, A Mouthful, is essentially tracks left on the cutting room floor by three indie films? “There’s only a couple of tracks that were used on other projects, such as ‘The Bridge Is Broken,’ which was the opening of a contemporary dance piece.”

Bully for us then, because the discarded atmosphere provided is awesome. The band had nothing but good things to say about the process of writing the tunes for film, but when it came down to it, they said, “The songs on the album were mostly born out of a will to cut away from the directors’ demands and restraints. It was vital for us — both wild and spontaneous.”

When asked if there will be another film score in the works they were unsure. “We’ve been working intensely on the second album.” Stateside we’ll have to savor A Mouthful until later this year when the second penny drops.

Olivia Merilahti is the Finnish half of the duo. She started with the cello at eight, followed by piano and guitar.

“I always wanted to sing,” she says. “I started singing in bands in my teens, not so seriously, and then I realized I could write songs. Singing jazz standards was something I also loved to do” —  which aligns well with influences like Theolonius Monk and Zappa.

Dan Levy is the French half of the duo — he’s a composer who also supplies the band with bass and flute. Levy has been composing since he was five — or, at least, he knew at that young age that was the direction he was headed. He also has roots in jazz, something he played a lot of until he “discovered contemporary music.”

Both spoke highly of the silent third member of The Dø, percussionist Pierre Belleville: “[Pierre] is our official drummer. He’s been playing with us on stage for almost a year now, and is a great drummer. He is originally from the French metal-scene. We liked the idea of having someone who’s really different from our own artistic culture. Most of the drums on the album we usually play ourselves, since we’re always looking for clumsiness, but Pierre has played on some of the new tracks.”

The band estimates their next tour will commence around August, but check their website for definite dates, as they like to play havoc with schedules. In the meantime, there are are a lot of clips on Vimeo and YouTube that capture the energy of The Dø.

Verbicide Free Download: Click here to download “On My Shoulders” by The Dø

So, their own merits here: Quasi has a creepy bass, but probably not creepy bassist in Joanna Bolme. And I mean that in a good way.  She’s a sedated Flea if you topped him off with just enough crystal meth to make him angry and sedated. The percussion coming from Janet Weiss is livelier than the bass, but still a large, aggressive sound — hard, controlled, energetic, steady.  An unexpectedly springy heavyweight fighter beating the piss out of someone one patient job at a time, and without hunching over like an old man by the third round.  Sam Coomes’ lead guitar riffs string it all together nicely, despite the tweeting high voices running throughout.  Or maybe that’s another good thing.  All three of the band members sing, and all in higher registers.  Not glass-breaking keys, but definitely no growling.  Now that I think about it, that’s a contrast that makes sounds like David Lowry’s Cracker work.  Who doesn’t love “Low?”  So Quasi, while not really inventing anything new in that combo, definitely puts another hashmark in the win column.

If I had to recommend one track, it’d be the one I can’t help but repeat: track eight, “Rockabilly Party.”  It’s simple, it’s almost obvious, but someone not cliché:  “If you stir up the hornets nest, both of us must get stung.”  Not cutting edge writing, but damn if it doesn’t give me some quick chills when I know it’s coming up.  It’s just a fun album.  I mean the final track (if you don’t count the bonus cuts) is 42 seconds of a dog howling.  Perfect.  Howl on.

Verbicide Free Download: Click here to download “Repulsion” by Quasi

If you can listen to this album and regard the lyrics as another instrument it’s a blast. Great, even. Sort of like music in languages you don’t speak, or George Lucas movies. Both can be exciting but hatefully inane if you follow the dialogue. Consistently every track is horrible in regards to what it would look like on paper — pretense so thick you couldn’t spread it on bread without heating it in the microwave first.

So the lauds. Pretend there aren’t any lyrics, just music. The production is loud and busy. Drum machines, keyboards from a wild variety of instruments, numerous effects, kitchen fucking sink. But it’s flawless, and exciting. Nothing is out of place or excessive. The title track, the sixth, is a better place to start then at the top. Laser sound effect for a split second, guitar hook for the other half of the same second, then Jamie Stewart’s voice as an instrument in this Aimee Mann before she was solo weepiness. A compliment by the by, voices fucking carry. “Falkland Rd” is also of note a couple tracks down the album. It’s quiet for them, even though less than a minute in you’re hit by a wall of sound. It’s still loud, but the pace is different. Slower and brooding. Again, in a good way. One peek at their bio reveals the production end including some Deerhoof personnel. I can see that, easily. If you could get Satomi to settle down it’d probably sound something like “Falkland Rd.” There’s also a oddball track in “Cumberland Gap.” It’s short and mostly banjo — yeah, banjo. I dig bluegrass music more than anyone I know so I’ll rubber stamp that one even with its peculiar placement.

All in all, this album is highly recommended if you can listen without hearing some things. Or if you dye your hair with kool-aid and wear silver skull rings on your thumbs.

(Kill Rock Stars, 1526 NE Alberta St. #231, Portland, OR 97211)

Verbicide Free Download: Click here to download “Gray Death” by Xiu Xiu

When asked how the follow-up compares to the “audible memory” of her debut she talked about a lot more time both in the studio and working the songs out in performance.

“I had actually performed most of the [new] songs live before going into the studio to record them.  I still think of albums as a ‘document’ of what’s happening in that moment, so in some ways that hasn’t changed.”  But the poise and patient attention really has — at least to this listener. Where “Darling” was like watching a fearless child enjoy the joy of running, “Heart” is more about seeing the same kid show up a few years later for her first race.  And kicking ass.

“I think with this album the fact that I had spent so much time performing probably contributes to the development of the sound.  I also think that the lyrics on this album necessitated the performance itself to be stronger, more in control, although times giving way to being a bit out of control.”

I second that, but there’s still a distinction.  On Darling, tunes with the most abandon like “In The Night” or “I Was A Daughter” had a personal feel, whereas on the new album the tracks most likely to drive an audience to its dancing feet are more universal.  The sample tune “Gold Rush” from Basis’s website is a prime example.  There’s still the childlike intimacy with the subjects, but the backdrop, the gold rush, adds history and weight — sort of like I’m sure it was beautiful to see Gretzky skate as a teenager, but it was moving to see him skate for Canada a few years later.

When asked about her process, the multi-instrumentalist played no favorites.

“[The instrument used to write songs] changes all the time, really! Sometimes I’ll start on the autoharp but finish a song of the piano, or vice-versa. There’s no particular favorite.”  The constant it seems then is her voice.  Her pipes produce a throaty but angelic mix, but she “didn’t set out to have my voice sound one way or another. I’m sure listening to Sam Cooke songs over and over as a kid, and then being completely obsessed with every Odetta album I own, and the fact that I love the Carter Family” all influenced the evolving result you hear today.

As to where she fits in the Canadian pantheon of independent music she still gives props first to London, Ontario.

“[It’s] a small but extremely close-knit and supportive community. So, I’m extremely grateful for that support early on. Now that I am touring I cross paths with musicians from all over.  I’m also lucky that in Toronto, where I live now, there are lots of wonderful musicians like Great Lake Swimmers, Owen Pallett, and Katie Stelmanis.”

Basia is currently (or perhaps perennially) touring The Great White North and here in the States.

Click here to download “Gold Rush” by Basia Bulat

There is certainly something distinctive about The Chambermaids’ sound, but it had me rifling through stacks of old LPs like the back of a kitchen cupboard. If you were hosting an early ‘80s dance party you could totally slip Down In the Berries in with anything by Pylon or My Bloody Valentine and no one would be the wiser. Or they’d be somewhat the wiser — a guest might ask you which Love Tractor album was playing because, “I thought I had all their stuff.”

But enough with Georgian comparisons. The ‘maids are from the Twin Cities, and while one of the best cuts on “Down” is titled “1982,” these guys have only been doing their thing since 2003. I mean, this is a great band that doesn’t have a Wikipedia entry yet.

What they do have is an early-alt innocence. A straight-up drummer who hasn’t heard of carpel tunnel and is going to snap the snare as hard as he likes. An at-the-precipice-of-feedback lead guitar grind. The lead singer sounds a teensy bit like Ian McCulloch, but the rest of the band doesn’t mimic The Bunnymen. They keep it simple and tight. The bassist Martha keeps everything on a fixed rate of assent, a hypnotic thrumming akin to Mike Mills’ early REM stuff. Apologies for the continued Athens comparison, but it’s hard to escape.

This is no cover band, though, and the music being made is not pastiche. It’s definitely worth a listen, and a careful and hopeful eye for what comes next for this act.

(Modern Radio Record Label, PO Box 8886, Minneapolis, MN 55408)

Low Low Low La La La Love Love Love unfortunately have an insanely busy production to match their repetitive (and ultimately meaningless) name. This release is all over the place. I listened to it several times before I could even form an opinion.

First strike against them is the vocal harmonizing. The only band I know of that has ever pulled off doing it on pretty much every track of an album is The Beach Boys. Here, though, it just sounds like way too much Art Garfunkel, and on a Paul Simon solo project, no less. Every note of almost every song is stretched out like taffy to let the voices intermix more than seems possible. At first it’s interesting, but on repeated listens it’s closer to operatic whining. The staggered cadence of the harmonized vocals really dilutes the music backing it, too — which is the biggest shame because the band uses a lot of ingenious little elements throughout.

The echoing piano of the sixth track, “Piano,” or the pleasing distortion and plucking banjo on the seventh track, “Friend Of Mine,” are all but lost in the cluttered mess of the tracks that surround them. It’s just too much.

Feels, Feathers, Bog, and Bees as an album is like a fruit salad with every single fruit in the known universe in it, but only one bite of each. Sometimes you get an Iron & Wine vibe, sometimes more Brian Wilson, sometimes a sliver of recent top 40 pop. The problem, though, is that’s one tune ushering you in and out of all that space.

The band is good, and could seriously develop into a great act. Right now, though, I think they’re not sure what exactly they’re trying to accomplish with their studio time.

(Other Electricities, PO Box 352, Portland, OR 97207)

The Push-Pull vocals are a little brash, a little grating, but never exactly fired up. Similarly, the lead guitar grinds plenty, but somehow doesn’t manage to carve anything up. In the end, for the “in-your-face” quality Push-Pull seem to be shooting for, the sound is too tailored and clean to buy into. You don’t see young punks slapping this together in a rundown garage so much as manufacturing it on their laptops to sound like they slapped it together in a rundown garage. I reserve all judgment until I could hear them live, but the album itself is too sterile to do anything for me.

(Joyful Noise Recordings, PO Box 20109, Indianapolis, IN 46220)

The band is Taylor Kirk, with various and sundry others built around that core. His guitar work is simple, but filled with the kind of intent that makes everything else in his compositions pop out. And the everything else? Well, it includes pianos that sound just barely in tune in a great honky-tonk twang kind of way, maudlin-but-lovely violins, comfortably creepy organs, and wood blocks clicking some of the coolest percussion since a glockenspiel. There’s even a choral backing for “We’ll Find Out” that makes you feel like you’re tent-revival witnessing for folk music instead of Jesus.

Recommended for a mellow evening with beer and friends, outdoors watching the sunset. Happily accepting your eventually demise. With smiles on your faces, of course.

(Arts&Crafts, 460 Richmond St. W #402, Toronto, ON M5V 1Y1 Canada)