Genghis Tron  [Board Up the House]

Is it metal?  Yes. Is it electronic?  Yes. How about abrasive?  At times. Alright, is it any good?  Definitely. Perhaps not your typical type of metal, but who likes typical anyway?  Putting a different spin on the scene, Genghis Tron incorporates electronics into the world of extreme music.  It’s very experimental it terms of what people like to (normally) create these days, so it's going to be a love it or hate it type of relationship. The beginning of the album starts off with a simple electronic beat that lulls you into an extremely catchy, foot-tapping loop.  You start off thinking you’re in for a pure and blissful electronic ride, until you run into a head-on collision with a set of giant riffs and crushing drums.  From there, you can tell what kind of mood has been set for the rest of the record.  Beautifully melodic, yet crazy and abrasive with glimpses into the absurdly heavy.  Did that make any sense? Don’t let the electronic aspect make you think any less of the aggression; on the contrary, there are massive amounts of aggressive guitar, drum, and even electronic work here.  Riffs are played against a frenzy of beats and loops.  Not to mention all the sampling, noise, and ambient tracks you can handle.  Although the abrasiveness will stand out to the untrained ear (or anyone who hates screaming, metal, or anything else that’s good and wholesome in this world), you’ll find a considerable amount of melody in the music, especially through the vocal melodies that back the front-running screaming.  Soothing electronic instrumentals are carefully placed in-betwixt those “crazy” and “disruptive” metal tracks, adding a nice touch to the overall sound of the album. Take note, the band lacks an actual drummer and bassist, but all work is produced electronically.  Impressive, no?  We get the professional quality of computerized drumming without the cheesy, hackneyed material that we’re used to hearing.  The engineering is amazing, with all sounds (natural or otherwise) woven beautifully into one another, complementing each other despite their significant differences.  A true work of genius. Whoever said synthesizers don’t belong in metal?

Om  [Pilgrimage]

Experimental music that has evolved from drone and stoner metal.  The playing technique is almost simplistic, yet at the same time intricate for the way it’s constructed.  It should be noted that this drums/bass duo hails from the now defunct group, Sleep.  Repetition is eminent.  Here you'll find an immense amount of space.  How much space do you ask?  Lots. The title track opens up the record with a soft sound that makes for a soothing entrance.  This slow and calming construction sets the ambiance for the rest of the material.  In all ten-plus minutes, the style never strays too far from the minimal nature of the track. “Unitive Knowledge of the Godhead” really breaks out of the shell created by the opener.  Although still containing the same pattern-based foundation, it introduces us to the massive side of Om’s sound.  A small swelling at the beginning of the track smoothly carries us over from ‘Pilgrimage,’ but quickly opens up an intensity that is unexpected.  Serving as the shortest of the three original tracks, ‘Unitive Knowledge’ cuts to the chase without all the lengthy, drawn-out progressions. The dual nature of the album is finally juxtaposed in the near twelve-minute epic, “Bhima's Theme.”  The song starts with crushing heaviness on bass and is aligned with the steady, almost chant-like vocals that have been consistent throughout the album.  Eventually moving into a hypnotic trance, the atmosphere proves to be tranquil, yet foreboding.  The vocals begin to carry an urgency that isn’t immediate or looming, remotely projected from what seems to be depths unknown.  This ongoing buildup slides right back into the heavy--never abandoning the repetitious state that has already been grounded.  Finally, the album finishes off with a reprise of the opener.  As a much shorter version, it nicely ties off our connection with the music, with the ability to loop back around once again. Considered to be one of Om’s more digestible efforts, “Pilgrimage” is a definite winner.  For the experimental side of all of us, give track three a go.  For the more conservative, stick with track two.  Who would’ve imagined that something so simple could be so much fun?

Pontiak  [Sun on Sun]

Artist: Pontiak Album: Sun on Sun Label: Fireproof Records It sounded like a novelty act:  three brothers retire to an abandoned cabin in the woods of Virginia to record an album in 4 days, each song in one take.  But then I heard it.  A short drum roll and a few pounding chords and then the chugging bass line sank into such a groove that I, the happy indie pop fan that I often am, couldn't help but nod along. And while crescendos are definitely a staple these days, the Carney brothers know what they're doing here.  Van's vocals creep in with a rootsy almost incoherent southern drawl layered over the pounding bass line and then the spacious chorus explodes with a few well-placed guitar riffs.  Four minutes later, it's like someone turned the lights out as the follow-up track "Swell" features some cymbal rolls and guitar feedback for three minutes.  And while that's a pretty gutsy move for an album that's only 7 songs long, it's brilliant.  It's like a palatte cleanser moving you from one amazing piece to another. "White Hands" cuts in with heavy drums and ends with a guitar riff harking back to classic rock legends like Page or Morrison. It runs into a minimalist post-rock construction, "White Mice", with another spot-on bass line that explodes at the three minute mark and then teasingly shifts into an indie-blues beat with heavy hi-hat and a crooning Van Carney. The follow-up and title track "Sun on Sun" clocks in at just over 9 minutes and languorously drones on with a steady drum beat and feedback-happy guitars that wail instead of Van.  Or at least until his voice recovers three minutes in but returns decidedly calmer to create a druglike trance in me, the listener, who finally has time to understand the lyrics--well, most of them. Oh, and did I mention the retro-feeling track with an organ riff that breaks into a shouting choir?  What about the closer, "The Brush Burned Fast", which harkens back to their older works?  It returns to a more folk-heavy ballad with a creepy echo effect that, combined with Van's emotive vocals, has a haunting effect and which also puts an end to one great album and leaves me thinking that if secluding yourself in the woods creates music like this, more people should do it. Of course, it may just stem from a life-long understanding between brothers who know just what to put in and what to leave out.

Magnet  [The Simple Life]

Artist: Magnet Album: The Simple Life Label: Filter Evan Johansen is a Norwegian with a lap steel guitar and a harmonica who sings about heartache, but don't run for cover just yet.  Instead of seeming like a misplaced and trying-too-hard effort from a country wannabe, Johansen's latest "The Simple Life" toes a respectful line between modern folk and indie-electronica. To say the least, I certainly wasn't expecting this.  The opener, "The Gospel Song", begins with hand-claps and a breathy "yeah yeah" which definitely made me cringe at first figuring a bad hip-hop song was about to get worse.  Then I heard the lap-steel guitar.  A jaunty little rhythm pushed forward by the underlying hand-claps from the first raspy vocals which expands into a string explosion at the minute mark and a harmonica bridge a little later on.  And, maybe he IS trying to hard, but I can't help but find it endearing and bounce along as Johansen sings about how his love has deserted him. Of course, they're not all that good. In fact, let's be honest, none of them are. Some of them just sound like a bad pop tune (see "You Got Me") or, even worse, reggae ("She's Gone").  But what puts him above his contemporaries at this point is the fact that he at least experiments with sounds and genres.  And, well, that's about it.  But he's got me hooked on that first track.

Le Loup  [The Throne of the Third Heaven of the Nations' Millenium General Assembly]

Artist: Le Loup Album: The Throne of the Third Heaven of the Nations' Millenium General Assembly Label: Hardly Art After reviewing about 50 mediocre singer/songwriter or pop-punk albums this weekend, I put Le Loup in the disc drive and it was like manna from heaven.  Finally, good music without the same old repeated-verses/repetitive-chorus/bridge-and-start-all-over-again business and lyrics about their fairly boring love lives.  Instead, I heard interesting sound structures imbued with rich banjo rhythms and offset with quirky percussion/electronic beats and rich layered vocals--there's even a round on track 2 (but more about that later). The album is loosely based on Dante's "Inferno" and a little known piece of artwork by James Hampton--little known because the piece, a tower of everyday objects meticulously built for 15 years, was hidden away in a secret shed adjacent to the artist's home.  And though, I'm not always quite sure how those references actually relate to the lyrics, I don't really care because at least the lyrics are interesting.  Whether they're talking about the end of the world, death, storms, wolves, and what have you, it's all delightfully done. The highlight track is definitely "We Are Gods! We Are Wolves!" in which an ascending line of electronic beats is layered with handclaps and uber catchy lyrics asking if you'd ever sacrifice your son as Abraham nearly did to Isaac in the Bible: "Could you ever lead your son aloft? up mountaintops? (you could never swing that dagger)" all to a beat that rivals the best indie-pop bands. And all the while being so happily blasphemous "give your soul to us give your heart to us" that I think even God might forgive them. Other highlights include "Planes Like Vultures" (the aforementioned track 2) that makes me want to grab my two best friends and sing the song together--or at least the ending.  The round is such a meticulously crafted counterpoint that it sounds like one solid, amazing unit with a heavy electric something in the background.  And "Outside of This Car, the End of the World!" is a syncopated medley (with more lovely layered vocals and electronic beeps) about going on a road trip to see towns that have been abandoned because of the end of the world.  Sounds like fun to me if they're driving. And I mustn't forget to tell you how delightfully the album is put together as a whole.  Starting off with an eerie monologue set to a banjo riff that reappears throughout the album, Le Loup creates an atmosphere of an on-going journey that meets up with (storm) on track 5 and (howl) on track 9 and leads us to the conclusion where the band tells us "I Had a Dream I Died"  ( Now I get the Dante reference).