Frenchkiss

Freelance Whales – Weathervanes

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Maybe it’s the name (‘Freelance Whales’ puts you in mind of some bizarre prog-psych project). Maybe it’s the fact that the lyrics on their debut album are inspired by dream journaling and childhood memories, or maybe it’s the fact that they honed their craft playing subway stations around New York (!), but Freelance Whales are one of those bands who initially sound a lot more interesting than they actually are when you get as far as listening to them.

Debut album Weathervanes was actually self-released late last year, but the steady buzz building around the Queens, NYC band has led to a re-release on Frenchkiss Records, home of Passion Pit and The Antlers. The dominant musical palette here is intricate folk-influenced arrangements with electronic touches and meek, mannered vocals. Reviewers have inevitably and appropriately used Ben Gibbard (Death Cab For Cutie/The Postal Service) as a point of reference, although more worryingly Sufjan Stevens has been mentioned in dispatches – there are sonic similarities (in particular the omnipresent banjo), but nowhere near the level of ambition or originality of Sufjan’s records.

Listening to Weathervanes is a pleasant enough experience up to a point. Opening track ‘Generator ^ First Floor’ breezes by with lilting vocals and dreamy harmonies, ‘Starring’ is underpinned by a bouncy electronic hook, while ‘Broken Horse’ benefits from a melancholic, gritty quality that is badly needed elsewhere. The best track is arguably the final one -‘The Great Estates’, a graceful banjo-led number with soothing, hypnotic harmonies.

Unfortunately, many people mightn’t make it as far as the closing track. As a whole, Weathervanes is just far too mawkish and cloying to deal with in anything but the smallest doses. Even the standout tracks mentioned above tend to suffer in the context of the album, dominated as it is by overly polite, timid compositions and awkward, ham-fisted lyrics. The likes of ‘Hannah’ and ‘Location’ are about a rung or two above the maudlin, bathetic likes of Snow Patrol, and as such any references to Sufjan need to be taken with a serious pinch of salt. Approach with caution.

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The Antlers - Hospice

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The Antlers’ heralded second album arrives with quite a bit of baggage: it’s a concept album charting a relationship with a woman who’s dying from cancer. It’s heady stuff indeed, and will probably be enough to make a number of would-be fans run a mile. The lyrics continually refer to hospitals, waiting rooms, death, sickness and unbearable tension and rage. A barrel of laughs it is not.

It can all get a bit much – mainman Peter Silberman aims for Neutral Milk Hotel’s In The Aeroplane Over The Sea, but lacking Jeff Magnum’s deranged imagination and poetic talents, at his worst he gets closer to Conor Oberst’s teenage angst. “And all the while I'll know we're fucked and not getting unfucked soon,” he sings on single ‘Bear’. While nobody would think of trivialising the subject matter, many will find the unchanging tone and constant retreading of themes off-putting.

If the lyrics are hard work, then it’s a shame because a lot of the music is fantastic. The much vaunted single ‘Bear’ is a gorgeous lament, with a melody half lifted from Belle and Sebastian’s classic ‘Slow Grafitti’. Following an instrumental opener (the aptly titled ‘Prologue’), ‘Kettering’ is beautifully intimate, Silberman’s vocals caught in close-up, so you can hear the opening and closing of his mouth in each syllable. This is a quiet, elegiac record, unafraid to take its time, and the better for it. ‘Wake’, all eight minutes of it, is a high-watermark, and one of the best tracks of the year. The overbearing ‘Sylvia’ is the only weak point, demonstrating how The Antlers are best served by keeping the volume turned down.

‘Hospice’ isn’t a particularly original album – I was reminded at various points of the last Spiritualized record’s lyrical themes, Grizzly Bear’s toys-in-the-attic vibe, Deerhunter’s ambient wash, Bon Iver’s ethereal folk and, in its more epically inclined moments, Arcade Fire’s wobbly anthems and Frightened Rabbit’s folk-punk dynamics. Nonetheless, it’s a bold, often compelling statement, and makes a worthy addition to the ‘Dark Was The Night’ brigade’s college-rock canon. 

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Other reviews
Mini review: 

Although a lot of the music was fantastic, The Antlers breakthrough album all "got a bit much" for Ragged Words when it got a wider release through Frenchkiss in August. It's testament to just how good that music is - often as widescreen as it gets - that the Brooklyn-based band appear not only appear here but that they became on of the word of mouth successes of the year. Something that will grow long into 2010. And while not bringing a hell of a lot new to the table, it's worth repeating what we said in August that Hospice is a bold, often compelling statement, and makes a worthy addition to the ‘Dark Was The Night’ brigade’s college-rock canon. (Padraic Halpin)

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The Antlers

 Originally the solo work of Peter Silberman upon relocating to Brooklyn around 2005, The Antlers developed into a trhee-piece and released their debut album In The Attic Of The Universe two years later. They kept momentum up by releasing two in EPs in 2008 - Cold War and The New York Hospitals EP (the latter featuring vocals from fellow Brooklynite Sharon Van Etten) before achieving wide cross-over/cross-web success a year later. Having initially self-released album number two Hospice in March '09, Frenchkiss picked up the record after the band could barely keep up wth orders and re-released to largely fawning press in August 

Discography

Albums: 
In the Attic of the Universe (self-release) 2007
Hospice (Frenchkiss) 2009
EPs: 
Cold War (self-release) 2008
New York Hospitals (self-release) 2008
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The Hold Steady - Separation Sunday

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Mini review: 

The biggest problem with finding yourselves labelled with the ostensibly complimentary tag of ‘Best Bar Band In The World’ is that everyone assumes this to be the limit of your abilities. Which would be a foolish assumption to make in the case of this Brooklyn five-piece. Separation Sunday is a work of true genius, every bit as poetic as it is primal. Like a drunk at the parties it so beautifully evokes, it approaches with a disarming, aggressive stagger, but then a slurred aside melts into an absorbing couplet and you realise you’ve been had: these guys aren’t a bar band at all – they just dropped in for a beer. (Barry Glynn)

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