Local CD roundup
(Self-released)
On their self-titled debut EP, The Invincible Kids demonstrate styles that seem to be from 50 years ago as well as from the future. A rock band through and through, the trio is prone to rumbling drum solos, high-register guitar riffs, and songs about love and all its ugliness. From time to time they even indulge in Weezer-like vocal harmonies. Underneath that, though, lurks a digital edge. Sequencing plays heavily into the development of the songs, as synthesizers and sirens loop throughout tracks. Thankfully, The Invincible Kids retain their basic rock roots, so it’s evident that the songs are written with computers, not by computers. While at times there’s a bit too much noise for the ear to process, on songs like “Continue” and “Rug Burns” they keep the mixture proper and the melodies addictive. —Max Ross Decider Rating: B+
Dark Dark Dark, The Snow Magic
(Blood Onion Records)
With their debut album The Snow Magic, vagabond Americana/cabaret-folk quartet Dark Dark Dark delivers sad songs that rarely sink into melodrama, buoyed by bouncing minor keys, flirtatious melancholic chords, boozy accordion, and male-female vocal duets that are carefully unsynchronized. The result is a kind of theatrical sincerity mixing coziness and haunting desolation; one can imagine the group playing to a handful of appreciative and nostalgic drunks who’ve stayed long after the other wedding guests have left, requesting to hear anything that will make the heart break just a little. Co-vocalists and songwriters Nona Marie Invie and Marshall LaCount, also respectively DDD’s accordionist/pianist and banjo player, met as two displaced drifters in New Orleans in 2006, and have played and traveled together since. Their lyrics hint at biographical themes (“Being here is better than wishing we had stayed,” from “New York Song”), and more broadly with paranormality, death, love, and dealing with all of the above. Backing them are bassist Todd Chandler and cellist Jonathan Kaiser—and, guesting on drums for Magic, celebrated percussionist Martin Dosh—creating a richness of spontaneous sound sometimes lacking from indie non-traditionalists relying too heavily on laptops. —Katya Tylevich
Decider Rating: A-
(Soup Bowl Records)
The original “New Monarchs” centralized government in 15th-century Europe, and paved the way for colonization. Their 21st-century Minneapolis namesakes, electronic duo Taylor Nelson and Sean Hogan, make like Louis The Prudent and aim to colonize listeners’ hearts with the lyricism swelling through their debut LP, Blueprints. The album could easily serve as the soundtrack for a sensitive indie film, possibly one starring a pouting Zach Braff. An interesting, irregular digital heartbeat rises and falls through Blueprints, but it’s hard to shake the feeling that the New Monarchs frontmen, best friends since high-school jazz ensemble, are over-channeling their emotions. Their fans call them “raw,” but perhaps “medium to well done” is more appropriate; yet Blueprints demonstrates a chemistry and promise for better things to come. —Katya TylevichDecider Rating: B-
The Absent Arch, Keep Calm And Carry On
(Self-released)
To ward off chills this winter in the absence of a space heater, there’s an easy substitute: Play The Absent Arch’s debut album, Keep Calm And Carry On. Almost every song functions as an acoustic fireplace. Will Markwardt’s voice is raspy and dry and, to extend the metaphor, acts as effective kindling for the supporting instrumentation that engulfs it. The style might be described as folk-plus-trumpets, a sound at once twangy and smooth, and likely to evoke an immediate nostalgia for mittens and sleds even if you’ve just come in from outside. Viola, upright bass, and soft drums mingle in the background, now and then asserting themselves with a brief burst of percussion or a doleful slur. Mostly, though, the album gives the sense of being left alone with Markwardt, as his lyrics sprawl into full-blown narratives that define the structure of each song. —Max Ross
Decider Rating: A-
(Self-released)
Charley Dush has always been upfront about his somewhat canonical, if not unavoidable (one might even say “boring”) influences, which include The Beatles, The Byrds, and Tom Petty. The sounds of those rock stars past ring loud and clear on Dush’s fourth album, September’s Sun. (Sometimes they ring psychedelic and distorted instead, as on the George Harrison-esque “Sorry, Again.”) Featuring guestwork from Dave Boquist (Son Volt), Marc Perlman (Jayhawks), and Noah Levy (Honeydogs), Sun is a good showcase for Dush’s sense of humor, unpretentiousness, and ability to tell a three-minute story—especially ones involving partying. The alt-country (easy on the alt-) number “Whiskey Mama,” features the refrain “You know we had us some fun / But I can’t remember half the things we’ve done,” and the title of “The Drug Test Blues,” says it all. Things turn serious around “Going Out Again” which tells the story of a father who goes out drinking, despite his children’s pleas that he stay home. Much like his song’s anti-heroes, Dush’s album is prone to mood swings. —Katya TylevichDecider Rating: B
