The Animal Show » MP3

This time you can call it a comeback

Edward — Fri, 10 Sep 2010 14:53:56 +0000

I was at a social function last night, and a formerly mustachioed friend came up to me to ask me what the hell was up with this blog of mine. My first reaction was, naturally, what the hell is up with that late great mustache of yours, but my second reaction was “what blog?”

They say you don’t know you’ve hit rock bottom until you can see China on the other side. Well, after leaving that social function, another friend made me watch a slideshow of his abroad pictures. Was it a sign? Almost certainly. Really contrived pithy aphorisms don’t grow on trees. At least, not where I’m from.

The truth is that I’d stopped blogging because there wasn’t any music out there that was getting me going (with a few notable exceptions, but they were by no means the rule). But this summer has been a downright cavalcade of elegant albums progressing onto the scene at a slow clip. I’ve never liked Arcade Fire more, been more blown away by a debut album than Janelle Monae’s (don’t hold me to that), or been as scared shitless as I was the first time I heard Salem. More on that later. More on a lot later. MORE LATER YOU GUYS.

For now, I’m dropping an Animal Show exclusive release. Everyone’s favorite mashup artist (and by “everyone,” I mean all five of your faithful correspondents here at the Show, which is to say everyone who matters in this confused, mosque-hating world) E-603 has remixed a sleeper off tourmates’ Passion Pit’s Manners, an album which also continues to grow on me. Ethan takes “Seaweed Song” and given it the Passion Pit handclaps it was missing, synths to the wall, and a Ratatat-reminiscent guitar line sure to make your hips quiver. Even if the kid may never make another E-603 album, this track makes clear that we have years of production and remixing to look forward to. Now when’s that Air Bud sophomore release coming?

Play it loud:

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Seaweed Song (E-603 Remix) – Passion Pit (YSI)

Welcome Home: Punch Brothers’ Antifogmatic in Review

Edward — Wed, 30 Jun 2010 17:25:05 +0000

It would be embarrassing to admit how long I've waited to put this image on The Show.

Each of the few reviews I’ve read of Punch Brothers‘ sophomore effort (or 3rd record, depending on how you count, which I’ll discuss more later) Antifogmatic has had a serious portion of its body devoted to the explication on the title of the album given in the press release which accompanied it. At first, I was annoyed by the repetition, and then I realized that each review had missed the mark just a little with their interpretation. Luckily, here I am to offer mine. Is it all right if I say I think I hit the nail right on its head?

Before I go any further, I suppose I should do the obligatory and include the blurb Nonesuch has given us:

Of choosing the title, Thile notes, “’Antifogmatic’ is an old term for a bracing beverage, generally rum or whiskey, that a person would have before going out to work in rough weather to stave off any ill effects. This batch of tunes could be used in much the same way, and includes some characters who would probably benefit mightily, if temporarily, from a good antifogmatic.”

Establishing a thematic element, Thile is trapped to read exclusively reviews playing off the title. This one will be no different.

Punch Brothers first saw the light of day with a previous name, anonymously backing Thile in 2006’s jubilant solo project How to Grow a Woman From the Ground, where the core group that would be Punch Brothers (Noam Pikelny on the banjo, Gabe Witcher fiddling, and Chris Eldridge playing guitar, all virtuosic in their own right) was intact, even as the name was not. From there, the “How to Grow a Band,” as they were called on tour, were whittled down to a tightly-knit quintet for 2008’s official Punch Brothers debut Punch, a masterful album centered around the incredibly powerful 4-part central “Blind Leaving the Blind” suite.

In their own right, these two albums represented part of the boozing cycle. How to Grow a Woman was a night with the boys, swimming in a sea of whiskey, singing along to the Strokes at the top of your lungs, and maybe even crashing into a healthy dose of the ol’ beer tears with the title track. The pieces were all there well enough, but the end result was a little scattershot for better or for worse, a fun variation with just a little bit of missed memories around the edge — perfectly thematically appropriate.

Then came the crash, heavy and dark with Punch. The lustre had worn off, the light of day harsh and over-bright, the misery acute. A hangover in an album, a breakup swan song for the ages, adroitly looking back with grace while moving forward purposefully as out of a thick rye whiskey-induced sleep. Yes, we sweep ourselves off and pick up the pieces, but not without first lying around for a while.

Punch represented musical and thematic maturity that seemed unattainable for a second time. It put “bluegrassical” on the map in its timeless and genre-less blending of sonic elements, and did so with a humanity that was refreshing. Thile has the chops to hang with the best of them — see 2008’s duet album with Edgar Meyer if you’re not an apostle of the church of Chris yet — but he manages to convey his genius in a way that’s accessible to even Joe Casual Listener. The man has pop sensibilities that pair impressively with his classical training. Perhaps the finest example of this comes in the melody line from the final Nickel Creek album standout “Eveline”, where notes come out of what feels like nowhere, both jarring and somehow pleasing to the ear. In the chorus repeat, as Thile sings “Eveline, take care of your father,” he and Sara Watkins briefly sail off into uncharted waters before tacking back to a slightly more conventional path, like Bill Russell throwing one elbow just to show his opponents he could.

Antifogmatic is also a slightly more conventional path, sticking to radio-friendly 5-minute tracks instead of the 10+ minute monsters on Punch. And it’s peppier than Punch, a remedy for that Woman-induced hangover, taking the best of each album and learning from them. Album opener “You Are” could be the average of the two, rock-inspired yells pepper the song in full Woman fashion, and yet it’s distant and with a hint of untouchability in its lyrics, like much of Punch. The end of the album could easily have served as an epilogue to Punch, and its meaty middle (where the true goodies are) is purely vintage Thile fun.

The highlights of the album are definitely when the guys seem to be clowning around. Antifogmatic, unlike its predecessors, has its songs credited to all five members of the band, and it shows in several of the performances. “Don’t Need No” has an ensuite feel that would fit in with “The Blind Leaving the Blind,” but when it gets to the vocal section it changes pace radically and becomes a jammy breeze, jovial and chummy. “Rye Whiskey” was the first song I had heard off Antifogmatic, and charmed me straight away, seeming to keep intact the sort of banterish quality that distinguishes many live favorites (cf: “If You’re Gonna Leave Me”). And before that Punch epilogue comes in, we get the palette-cleanse sorbet that is “Next to the Trash,” a goofy singalong that’s pure bluegrass goodness.

Paired with the somber and more serious stuff, like the beautiful “Alex” or “Missy” or the incredibly beautifully crafted “Me and Us,” these songs make up an album that’s rich and varied, shaken up and served over ice with a twist of lemon. Gulp it down quick — it’s good for what ails you.

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Alex – Punch Brothers (YSI)

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Next to the Trash – Punch Brothers (YSI)

Antifogmatic is out now via Nonesuch. Get it there.

Mashing Drake Up

Edward — Wed, 23 Jun 2010 18:40:28 +0000

such a nice boy.

As Young Money and Degrassi devotees alike are no doubt aware, thespian-cum-rhymist Drake released his freshman effort Thank Me Later a week ago. Critically, it was given an almost universal “okay,” with many reviews heralding it as the first real effort in the changed world of hip-hop coming about post 808s and Heartbreaks. This is going a little overboard. Drake is not going to change your life. He’s thankfully less of a sad-sack than his contemporary (and arguably the true follower of 808s) Kid Cudi, but the album has fewer gems than the 3 smashes on Man on the Moon. It’s a lethargic slog, sort of like 808s, but without the same innovative production that is Kanye’s bag. The lone stand-out is the track Kanye produced, “Over,” which benefits from a Lupe-inspired backing track that grabs you by the throat and pounds forward with alternating Love Lockdown drumline beat and orchestral sweeps. The others need some work.

The same could be said of many of Drake’s mixtape tracks from the runup to Thank Me Later. Luckily, there are mashup producers who can do just that. And, luckily, I’m bringing them straight to your ears. The first is an older track, brought to you courtesy of longtime Animal Show favorites, The Hood Internet, who have cooked up a masterpiece with their combination of Drake and Free Energy. Then an interesting idea, combining Coldplay’s “Strawberry Swing” (my favorite off of Viva La Vida, and whose music video still rules) with last year’s megahit jam “Best I Ever Had.” The combination teeters on the edge of absurdity, but is ultimately saved based almost purely on the merits of each song individually, and makes for a fun listen. Check ‘em out as you celebrate another amazing American World Cup goal taken back by terrible officiating!

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(This Shit Was) All I Know [Drake v. Free Energy] – The Hood Internet (YSI)

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The Best Strawberry – Drake v. Coldplay (YSI)

You guys, summer 2010 is going to be all of the best times of our young lives.

Edward — Thu, 10 Jun 2010 16:23:42 +0000

When I woke up in Manhattan the other day, my olfactory system booted into overdrive. What was that incredibly pleasantly unpleasant odor bombarding my senses? It was too tart to be old derelict, too sweet to be subway exhaust, and too offensive to be natural. Then it struck me: this smell was summer, or, as it’s more often referred to around these parts, “garbage cooking on the curbside.” A step onto the street confirmed my hypothesis, as a black trashbag had attained temperatures high enough to singe my leg hairs as I stepped out into traffic to hail a cab to take me back south where I belong (fare for the 15 hour trip was a surprisingly affordable 1454.70, and I think it was only that high because the cabbie tried to cheat me by taking 95 — every jackass who’s ever driven knows that 78’s the only way to get to Tennessee, Idris).

Rubbing my leg in pain on the ride, I had a revelation: this summer is going to be it. You know what I mean? We’re going to do it, guys. We’re going to do it! Like all of it. I’m actually going to go to the Purple Rain singalong (look out; “I would sooner die than watch a movie with Prince” isn’t going to be compelling enough to prevent me from dragging you this year), and I’m going to teach DFJacobs how to eat oysters. That’s all there is to a compelling summer, y’all.

Actually, that’s not entirely true. Because eating oysters often involves slurping noises, and those can get uncomfortable if you don’t have some background noise. And that’s where I come in. Summers need mixtapes. Fact. Mixtapes need songs. Double fact. I have all those songs. Your honor, the jury rests.

I was reading some Nick Hornby earlier today (and by that, I mean I saw High Fidelity last week, and was thinking about that while tooling around Virginia in a hijacked cab), and I realized that songs are powerful. I’d tell you more, but it’s so hot in Nashville that typing this much has already made me work up a really repulsive sweat. And besides, the songs speak for themselves, like a fine Montepulciano D’Abruzzo or a kick-ass USA Today infographic.

REDACT: it occurs to me that even a graph of “What We’re Recycling” inevitably has a key, so let me give you a brief guide to understanding these massively complicated songs. First comes the eardrum-blasting noisy perfection of Sleigh Bells, whose debut still kicks ass. Then we slow it down with a retried version of Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros’ “Home”, one of 2009’s favorite songs made fresh again with a new backing track that reinvents the song while leaving its catchy-as-hell soul intact. Finally, a great track from perennial summer favorites The National, which you may have missed when it came out on last summer’s Dressner brothers-produced Dark as the Night compilation.

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Sleigh Bells – Tell Em (YSI)

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Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros – Home (Alternate Version) (YSI)

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The National – So Far Around the Bend (YSI)

http://www.boston.com/sports/soccer/gallery/05_04_10_world_cup_10_capsules?pg=28

Turn the Beat Around… Again

dfjacobs — Tue, 25 May 2010 15:00:33 +0000

Image Courtesy of Brooklyn Vegan

Since my last post, the world has turned to crap. Time Square fell under siege, Greece almost collapsed, BP pulled an Exxon Valdez in the Gulf coast, the Mexican victory at the Battle of Puebla was celebrated (oh wait, Cinco de Mayo was a pretty rowdy fiesta), Tennessee almost sank (and with it all photo evidence of Edward’s awkward years), and Lost ended. Suffice to say, the world is a pretty depressing place without dfjacobs. So to cheer all of you up, I decided to continue my only most read post of the last month: Turn the Beat Around.

Launching our rave is “Crown on the Ground” by noise pop’s burgeoning stars, Sleigh Bells. Comprised of Alexis Krauss and Derek E. Miller, the Brooklyn duo formed all the way back in 2008. On May 11^th, they released their first album (that wasn’t a demo) Treats, and it’s spectacular. Even for those of you averse to the feedback spewing and amp destroying that the noise pop genre is famous for, Sleigh Bells’ album may yet make a convert out of you. Treats is indubitably one of my favorites of the year, and the highlights include (but are not limited to) “Tell ‘Em,” “Kids,” “Riot Rhythm,” “Infinity Guitars,” “Rill Rill,” and “Crown on the Ground.” For those of you keeping score at home, I just listed six of the eleven tracks. I swear, the album is THAT good.

From burgeoning stars to seasoned doyens, our next track is “Dance Yrself Clean” by electronic superstars, LCD Soundsystem. The James Murphy helmed dance/punkers released their third studio album This Is Happening on May 17^th. The album, much like Treats, is dazzlingly brilliant, and another early front-runner for our best albums of the year list. LCD Soundsystem is similarly mesmerizing live; putting on one of the greatest shows I have ever seen on Saturday night at Terminal 5. Finishing with a balloon filled rendition of “Empire State of Mind” (see picture above), the show was simply tremendous, much like their album.

Capping off this trio of dance hall destroyers is our first Hip-Hop track of day, “Like a G6” by the Cataracs. Chances are, if you’ve left your house at any point in the last month, you’ve heard this blazing hot track, but nonetheless I couldn’t resist appending it to this article. Recently, the duo of Cyrano and Campa released a free mixtape titled, I Thought They Were Black!?, with their track “2Nite” debuting at 24 on Billboard’s Hot Dance Airplay charts. While their lyrics are not going to cap the oil spill, bring solvency to Greece or recover Edward’s embarrassing photographs (oh phewf, we never lost those) they make incredibly fun, party starting music (“Poppin bottles in the ice, like a blizzard/ When we drink we do it right gettin slizzard”). So with that I’ll conclude my latest self-indulgence, and I promise to release another article with much less lag time, and hopefully at a considerably lesser cost to the world.

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Crown on the Ground – Sleigh Bells (YSI)

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Dance Yrself Clean – LCD Soundsystem (YSI)

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Like a G6 (feat. Far East Movement & Dev) – The Cataracs (YSI)

Don’t Call It a Comeback

Edward — Tue, 11 May 2010 16:51:56 +0000

I don’t want any crocodile tears later, so let’s make one thing clear right here, right now: I am not back. Sorry. Just like the elusive taco-flavored Doritos, I’m here to bust onto the scene for a hot second, just long enough for you to remember how much you loved my tangy and indescribably MSG-y taste before I disappear back into the Doritos Vault indefinitely. As you probably know, every now and then duty calls, and then I must pick up the phone, strap on my blogsuit, and type the bejeezus out of a few hot jams likely to blow all the wax out of your ears. Live from Rome, it’s probably nighttime where you are! (When it comes to figuring out time zones I’m complete cat vomit.)

First of all, let me apologize (good start, right?): I have no idea how overplayed any/all of these songs are in whatever country it is you access this site. After all, only 679 visits came from Italy in the last year, meaning that no one is here looking for the latest remix of Eurotrash Jam ‘10 “Stereolove,” which is fine, because I’m really not interested in hearing that song ever again. In my internet-restricted foreign prison, I’ve been at a loss to keep up with singles. Hype Machine doesn’t even work here. Can you imagine? THESE METH BUGS WON’T LEAVE ME ALONE. You know, the ones I get from not being able to surf Hype Machine. Get it? You get it. But, as such, I’ve been forced to kick it old school, listening to albums like some sort of old man. Grampa’s been able to scrounge up a few songs from between the sofa cushions, though, and he’s taking you all to Friendly’s for Clown Sundaes. Hooray!

First comes Big Boi’s infectious “Shutterbugg.” If that voice doesn’t snap you into an I <3 2001 nostalgia montage, you need clinical help. Outkast’s less cool half (sorry, but true) is shaking that comeback tree, and it sounds like MEMORIES. Damn, y’all. Then comes my favorite track off of what may be my favorite release of 2010 so far, Subiza by the Spanish popmeisters Delorean, which is so good that it inspired me to tweet. Desperate times, right? Next off the blocks is a Harlem Shakes track that’s been kicked up to 11 by Kids at the Bar, which comes at you courtesy of my ear to the ground in all things music, James, who’s been trying his damnedest to keep me looped through these trying times. Finally, the rainmaker: Biggie Smalls’ “Can I Get Witcha” blended seamlessly with honey-voiced Andrea Bocelli’s “Por Ti Volare,” a name which almost certainly means something in Italian. A properly abroad-infused mashup to keep you going. So gobble ‘em up fast, because these took me an hour to upload and who knows when you’ll see the likes of me around these e-parts again. Until June, soul clap, soul clap, can I get a little soul clap?

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Shutterbugg – Big Boi (YSI)

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Simple Graces – Delorean (YSI)

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Strictly Game (Kids at the Bar Remix) – Harlem Shakes (YSI)

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Can I Get Witcha? vs Por Ti Volare – Notorious BIG vs Andrea Bocelli (YSI)

Is It Time For An Audio Safari Again? Yes, Yes It Is Time For An Audio Safari Again.

Edward — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 16:45:56 +0000

There comes a time in every man’s life when he must own up to the fact that he is 100% mailing it in. And I’m not going to lie about it. For weeks now I’ve been circling in my car around the e-block, passing my virtual domicile — this website — repeatedly, slowing down each time while I debate whether I can summon the strength to come in and act like things are normal with my e-family inside before speeding up and driving out of sight to the nearest Motel 8 to spend another night on a bumpy, crumbling mattress watching HBO on a fuzzy, boxy old tv. I can’t do it. It’s not the same. I’ve changed, you’ve changed, the internet’s changed.

I guess I should make one thing clear: I’ve left. Skipped the country to broaden my horizons with a semester studying abroad. What does this mean for the blog, you ask? Well, things may be weird for a while. Mommy and I still love each other very much, but sometimes that’s not enough, or so that heartbreaking flashback from Juliet’s childhood in the finale of last season of Lost informed me. But I promise to visit every other weekend, and maybe uncle DFJ can take you to the zoo every now and again.

Realistically, what this changes is that I have a genuinely good excuse for not posting. Internet here is sketchy at best. I’m also 6 hours off real people time (yes, Eastern Time is “real people time”), and uploading is stupid hard. Also, my downloads are capped pretty aggressively, so even promos are hard to receive. I’ll try my best, but a week will, at most, contain 3 posts. Sorry, duders. I’ll start you off right with an Audio Safari, whose last iteration I’m far too lazy to look up. Enjoy “BedRock,” a stupidly adorable Young Money single you’ve undoubtedly heard, “California English, Pt. 2,” a Contra b-side that takes the auto-tune all the way to the top, and Caribou’s infectious “Odessa,” which should keep you smiling even as you talk to your internet psychologist about the abandonment issues I’ve spawned in you.

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BedRock – Young Money ft. Lloyd (YSI)

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California English, Pt. 2 – Vampire Weekend (YSI)

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Odessa – Caribou (YSI)

Throw Some Mash On That Tok

dfjacobs — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 15:16:54 +0000

These Pandas Look at Home at the Show

From what I have discerned about the Show in my brief tenure here, we collectively and not-so-secretly love a catchy pop song. Clearly we are not too ostentatious to concede the undeniable charm of modern day classics like “Party in the U.S.A.” As our estimable leader, Edward of Roma, said in the best Songs of 2009 article (I had to link it because otherwise it may have been hard to find amidst all the new material since), “Party in the U.S.A. was that… guilty pleasure you didn’t have to hide. Everyone loved this song. Everyone loves this song.”

Thankfully, the hullabaloo caused by our most recent guilty pleasure song has finally begun to subside. As it turns out, my lengthy and assuredly much-appreciated absence in mid to late January was actually due to the severe injuries I sustained when I was senselessly beaten by “Tik Tok.” I would describe Ke$ha’s first single now, but if you haven’t heard it, then you must have stumbled onto this blog by mistake. So for those of you who need to scratch at that uncontrollable “Tik Tok” itch but are too embarrassed by the actual song, you’ve lucked out. The Ke$ha bug has also bitten some of our favorite DJs and mashup gurus.

We’ll start with “Doo Tok” the Chambaland mashup of Ke$ha and demigod Lauryn Hill. While my brother referred to this mashup as “sacrilegious,” I simply cannot rebuff anything that could be mistaken for new Lauryn Hill. Chambaland removes Ke$ha’s suspect verses and chorus, leaving Ms. Hill to do her thang all over the club shattering beat of “Tik Tok.”

The White Panda, a mashup group surely deserving of an article of their own, contributed an even better mash. Like Chambaland, The White Panda realized that the major flaw of “Tik Tok” is probably Ke$ha herself. So they too remove all evidence of her voice, and instead leave us Rich Boy. “Throw Some Tik on that Tok” is everything “Tik Tok” isn’t on its own. Rich Boy adds some much needed masculinity to the Saturday night crowd pleaser. And for those of you without Versus (The inaugural White Panda release) head to http://www.thewhitepanda.com/ stat and get your hands on it for free.

Finally, I’ll finish with my least favorite of the numerous variations. The Hood Internet (the brains behind 3 of my 5 favorite mashups of last year) sadly mailed one in with “Summer of Tik Tok.” They were the only one of the three to leave Ke$ha and her bottle of Jack in tact, and remove the best part of the song. While “Summer Song” has a funky electronic beat of its own, it’s certainly no match for “Tik Tok,” and without her fantastic accompaniment, Ke$ha’s sound is even more lacking.

All in all, I apologize for the tardiness of this article, but hopefully its delay will allow you to listen to these tracks having already recovered from all injuries sustained from the original track.

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Doo Tok (Chambaland Mashup) – Lauryn Hill vs. Ke$ha (YSI)

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Throw Some Tik On That Tok – The White Panda (YSI)

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Summer of Tik Tok – The Hood Internet (YSI)

You guys, I think R. Kelly likes sex.

Edward — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 16:03:39 +0000

Sweet God, is he watching me?

Last August, R. Kelly released a new single off his then-upcoming sure-to-be-great album Untitled, “Number One,” a song whose beat was so cringingly bad, Robert Sylvester Kelly provided his own dj drops as a half-assed gesture at a chorus. It would have just been bad, but its lyrics (and accompanying music video, though that’s a discussion for another day) salvaged the musical wreckage. The first time I heard it, I laughed out loud — and it turns out that’s the best barometer for judging R.’s songs. I don’t want to ruin the surprise, but keep your ears perked up towards the end. Turns out he’s got a Latin lover. Aye papi!

It turns out that detail is just the sort that R. Kelly uses to spice up his songs (as if they could get any spicier!). Because, as the singles continued to roll off of Untitled, the innuendo multiplied to such a point that the man has legitimately become a pastiche of himself. I’m sure that everyone remembers back in 2002, shortly after R. Kelly had been indicted for child pornography, when Dave Chappelle unleashed his hilarious and a little too close-to-the-bone R. Kelly parody music video, “I Wanna Piss On You.” It was crass and a little too direct. So, it turns out, is R. Kelly.

Single number two, which you’ve certainly heard regardless of whether or not the dulcet drops of “Number One” have made it to your ears, was “Echo.” You know, the one with the yodeling chorus? Well, I counted, and he says “sex” 17 times in that song. Also, he has a very obviously censored swear word 3 times, plus one “hit it” in place of that curse which this blog is too delicate for. That makes 21 in total. Almost double the 11 times the word “sex” is used in “Number One.” Impressive, or just pathetic?

Well, it would be hard to make an informed decision before evaluating all the evidence, because the next single off the album makes “Echo” and “Number One” seem like material appropriate for a Baby Einstein developmental tape. This song’s title is “Pregnant,” and its opening line may be enough to turn you off of popular music altogether. In the first thirty seconds of the song, R. Kelly says “girl, you make me want to get you pregnant” or some variation thereof 4 times, while the background vocals of “knock you up” play twice.

Truth. Beauty. Grace. R. Kelly has it all, ladies and gentlemen. I probably would try not to stand too close to him, though.

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Number One – R. Kelly (YSI)

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Echo – R. Kelly (YSI)

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Pregnant – R. Kelly (YSI)

“How Many Gentlemen Does It Take To Screw You In?” – The Milkman’s Union’s Roads In in Review

Edward — Fri, 15 Jan 2010 16:46:29 +0000

There’s a delicate balance struck in the best writing between excessively stark and overly florid. In cinematography, there’s a tension between too dramatic and too impersonal. Visual art ranges between too inexpressively vague and disinterestingly matter-of-fact. In music, however, comes one of the thinnest wires to tread. All popular songs exist on a spectrum: at one end, there are the catchiest melodies whose lyrics are essentially meaningless — the “ra ra ah ah ah, ro ma romama”s of the world — and, at the other, are the Leonard Cohens, whose words are the true meaning, and whose tunes exist only as subtle enhancement of the written word underneath. It is in the center of this spectrum that the very best of popular music falls. Every musician, whether consciously or not, seeks to make a song such that the lyrics are enhanced by the music and vice-versa. The ones who succeed are the names probably most familiar to you — precious few artists are capable of passing with one or the other, and only then by the overwhelming merit of their one strength. Henry Jamison’s compositions straddle this line perfectly, creating an album in his Milkman’s Union’s Roads In that is both deserving of listen upon listen and which asks for it of its own musical merit.

It seems almost unfair to compare Roads In to his earlier works — indeed, based on the availability of the previous albums released under the name the Milkman’s Union (now no longer available on either CD Baby, the iTunes store, or Amazon), it would seem that he’s tried exactly to distance himself from those previous albums — and necessarily so, since both were released some 3 years ago, a significant chunk of lifetime to a 22-year-old. Yet it’s easy to assert that this is by far the most varied and mature work that Jamison has released, even without those previous points of comparison available to the hoi polloi. The songs are fantastically diverse, ranging between experimental and familiar, raw and polished.

The Milkman’s Union have created an album which is truly the best sort of collection of songs an album can be. Each is different than the previous, each leads elegantly into the next, each shows a band who have taken more time and energy into sculpting a fantastically finished product than most college groups would ever find or make the time for. (It should be noted that this, unlike previous “The Milkman’s Union” songs, represents the work of more than just Henry Jamison, but rather of 5 musicians, whose influence is undeniable when compared to the home recordings Jamison had previously released.) The result is so overwhelming that I almost feel as though each time I allude to the age of the band I do them a disservice, as I know well that each time age comes up it is read a compensation for a lack in something.

It really is in Jamison’s lyrics that the Milkman’s Union find what makes them as a band so undeniably well-rounded. He has certainly found the balance between florid and sparse, and does so in a way that’s delightfully witty and literate without much baggage of pretension. Yes, I could complain about how the instrumental “A Kidney for Bloom” comes off as a little show-off-y, but would anyone other than the son of a Joycean really find a bone to pick with a Ulysses reference, most of all having that bone be about how obvious the reference is?

There are lines scattered throughout Roads In that I keep returning to, or find myself thinking of in conversation. My favorite of these is probably “How many gentlemen does it take to screw you in?” a deft put-down from “Emerald Flares.” Another comes in “St. Petersburg,” where Jamison works in a pairing similarly shocking: “She has her way with words / and then she has her way with me.”

In my opinion, the album highlight comes in “America,” a song whose stark lyrics are perfectly counterpointed by the slow build of its instrumentation and harmonies. Its lines find a simple beauty in the mundane, and create a perfect nostalgia in few words:

It occurs to me that I am America

That I am your front yard, your tree

It occurs to me that I am America

and everything from sea to shining sea.

The fadeout from the radio broadcast into album-closer “Percy, Lost at Sea” create a mood more ideal than can be fully expressed in words, a perfect blend of all that the Milkman’s Union can do so well. It’s an ending that leaves the listener wanting more, and I’m sure I’m not alone in saying that the place the Milkman’s Union is in at this point in time ought to be good enough to get them wherever they might want to go.

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The Milkman’s Union – Roads In (YSI)

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The Milkman’s Union – St. Petersburg (YSI) (Download removed at band’s request. If you dig the stream, follow the links below and buy the damn thing.)

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The Milkman’s Union – America (YSI)

If there ever were an album truly worth buying (you know, as opposed to “acquiring”), this is it. Find it at CDBaby, iTunes or Amazon.

Also, The Milkman’s Union is currently touring the northeast, with dates in NYC upcoming. Check the dates out at their website.