Watch Fast and Furious 6 Online : Californian rock duo Deap Vally tend not to wear a huge amount of clothing, something that seems to have caused a low level tizz in some corners of the indieverse. I guess I can see both sides of the argument – on the one hand they should clearly be allowed to wear what the {omitted}{omitted}{omitted}{omitted} they want, and it seems to me like there's something uncomfortably akin to slut-shaming in the more vehement criticisms. On the other hand, there's surely something calculatedly attention grabbing about it all.
Watch Despicable Me 2 Online : In any case, I know a couple of people who seem really angry about Deap Vally; maybe it's just them and it's actually not that big a deal. But for what it's worth, singer/guitarist Lindsey Troy and drummer Julie Edwards strike me as alright – they’ve addressed the objections reasonably thoughtfully in interviews and their debut album Sistrionix has a sort of spiritedly pro-sisterhood, pro-doing-what-the-{omitted}{omitted}{omitted}{omitted}-you-want vibe to it that’s fairly crude but palpably genuine. If they’re guilty of anything, I suspect it’s being excessively Californian.
Watch The Lone Ranger Online : Whatever the case, it would all surely matter a lot more if either a) Deap Vally made brilliant music or b) Deap Vally were hugely popular. Conceivably those are both things that may happen at some point in the future, but Sistrionix is a long way from greatness, a plodding blues rock album that’s crafted with great vigour but little invention. In some ways the duo fall into the exact sonic trap that fellow guitarist/drummer duo the White Stripes avoided a decade or so ago. It’s not that Deap Vally's music needs bass, it’s that it needs nuance.
Watch The Heat Online : Opener ‘End of the World’ sets the tone – it’s nearly five minutes long, ploddingly paced, and almost resolutely monotonous – for most of it Troy plays a single fuzzed chord, occasionally unleashing a low, sludgy solo. It’s the lengthiest song on the record, but the trouble is that with little variation in tone or tempo, all the rest blur into it. ‘Baby I Call Hell’ lumbers in on a plodding, brutally basic riff; ‘Walk of Shame’ again indulges in a staccato chug; ‘Make My Own Money’ is livelier but essentially sounds like a dimmer cousin to the White Stripes’ ‘Blue Orchid’; and so on and so forth.
Watch Monsters University Online : The riffs are big, forceful and no frills, kind of Tesco Value hard rock. And there’s something to be said for that, but a whole album’s worth of it is like having the same plain, heavy meal every night for a week. It’s a shame because under the chugging there’s something enjoyably punk rock about the pair. Troy has a battering ram of a voice that maybe lacks total distinctness, but is, nonetheless, pretty cool – she’s clearly modelled her impassioned yelp on Robert Plant, but there’s some Karen O, some Jack White, some Carrie Brownstein in there too, a certain sense of slightly unhinged abandon that’s unfortunately suppressed by the molasses slow music.
Watch The Purge Online : And eye-rolling as some of the lyrics are, one gets the impression they’re being rather tongue in cheek about it all (how else to take lines like “I got rhymes they’re so catchy they’re venereal”?). In the end, though, Sistrioinix is simply harder work than it should be. Some songs are more fun than others – ‘Lies’ really isn’t miles away from sounding like Fever To Tell-era Yeah Yeah Yeah - but the only real moment of respite is an untitled a capella number at the end. It’s raw and uncontrived and just something a bit different, a hint that there could be a more to this band’s music than plodding primary riffola.
Watch Now You See Me Online : But it’s not enough, really – after all the naysaying I honestly think Troy and Edwards come across as musicians of integrity, but that’s not the same as being any good. Sistrionix could be a foundation for something much better or something infinitely worse, but for now Deap Vally don’t particularly deserve your hate or your love. Zomby is far from finished with the eerie, introverted soundscapes that defined his acclaimed second album, Dedication. His new record, a sprawling, utterly absorbing double album, takes a slow-motion look at a range of core electronic genres and spreads their bass and beats over unrecognisably low tempos, creating a signature sound of pulsing, melodic, urban unease.
Watch After Earth Online : It’s the feeling of walking round deserted streets at night; savouring your solitude and the beauty of your moonlit surroundings, but being constantly aware of the threats lurking just out of sight. Sticking to his long-held ‘Fuck Mixing, Let’s Dance’ philosophy, With Love is a far cry from the smooth transitions of many contemporary electronic album; there are no meandering, cross-fading codas to be found here. Bare, slightly jolting cuts string the album’s 33 tracks, yet their collective unnerving beauty is unbreakable, with the album’s length only adding to its absorbing, whole-world-in-a-record effect. Broadly, With Love’s two discs divide into Zomby’s moody take on industrial, jungle, and techno on Volume I, with instrumental hip-hop and sparse, hauntingly beautiful post-dubstep cuts dominating Volume II. Initially, the atmosphere slowly builds through disorientating Crystal Castles-style glitch, spacey dub beats and the tension-ratcheting, climbing-rollercoaster of ‘Horrid’ - and so, Zomby’s (distinctly dark) stage is set.
By the time the old-school hip-hop of ‘It’s Time’ rolls around, and an unusually subdued voice insists “It’s time to go fucking mental!”, it’s long clear that Zomby is no longer interested in indulging in nostalgia or clichéd bass-drops, but is instead crafting something entirely new from recycled pieces of dance music’s history. As the end of the Volume I approaches, he ferociously underlines the point with the tribal drum'n'bass of ‘VI-XI’, which mashes an unsettling, squawking pulse to an insistent loop of someone yelling, “It’s this one, the original!”. Resembling a nightmarish auditory hallucination set in a bustling market, it’s thoroughly overwhelming. Volume II is a noticeably calmer affair. Second track ‘Digital Smoke’ has slow, threatening beats trickling over smears of sub-bass –the antithesis of TNGHT’s burbling, day-glo instrumental hip-hop, this is far more industrial and maintains an astonishing introversion. Skipping over what sounds like slowed down Balearic techno (‘Glass Ocean’) and full-on, pitch-shifting paranoia (‘How To Ascend’), the album’s only collaboration arrives in the form of ‘Pyrex Nights’, with producer Last Japan in tow. With buzzing percussion and a gorgeous melody, it could be a classical score but for the squelching, almost air-horning, bass.
There are also plenty of spiritual themes explored on With Love‘s second half, as ‘Shiva,’ ‘Sphinx,’ and ‘White Smoke’ all impart mystical, sacred undertones, even if the music itself never approaches such overt righteousness. The titles themselves imply that Zomby is searching for answers and a truer sense of self within these sonic journeys, and while the songs don’t necessarily unlock any of those eternal puzzles, they at least provide some comfort and solace while we all struggle to find our own distinct path. There are plenty of small discoveries to be found within each of With Love‘s intricate sound trips, but there is enough mystery and intrigue injected into each textured layer to keep you wanting to find new ways to get lost.
Watch Despicable Me 2 Online : In any case, I know a couple of people who seem really angry about Deap Vally; maybe it's just them and it's actually not that big a deal. But for what it's worth, singer/guitarist Lindsey Troy and drummer Julie Edwards strike me as alright – they’ve addressed the objections reasonably thoughtfully in interviews and their debut album Sistrionix has a sort of spiritedly pro-sisterhood, pro-doing-what-the-{omitted}{omitted}{omitted}{omitted}-you-want vibe to it that’s fairly crude but palpably genuine. If they’re guilty of anything, I suspect it’s being excessively Californian.
Watch The Lone Ranger Online : Whatever the case, it would all surely matter a lot more if either a) Deap Vally made brilliant music or b) Deap Vally were hugely popular. Conceivably those are both things that may happen at some point in the future, but Sistrionix is a long way from greatness, a plodding blues rock album that’s crafted with great vigour but little invention. In some ways the duo fall into the exact sonic trap that fellow guitarist/drummer duo the White Stripes avoided a decade or so ago. It’s not that Deap Vally's music needs bass, it’s that it needs nuance.
Watch The Heat Online : Opener ‘End of the World’ sets the tone – it’s nearly five minutes long, ploddingly paced, and almost resolutely monotonous – for most of it Troy plays a single fuzzed chord, occasionally unleashing a low, sludgy solo. It’s the lengthiest song on the record, but the trouble is that with little variation in tone or tempo, all the rest blur into it. ‘Baby I Call Hell’ lumbers in on a plodding, brutally basic riff; ‘Walk of Shame’ again indulges in a staccato chug; ‘Make My Own Money’ is livelier but essentially sounds like a dimmer cousin to the White Stripes’ ‘Blue Orchid’; and so on and so forth.
Watch Monsters University Online : The riffs are big, forceful and no frills, kind of Tesco Value hard rock. And there’s something to be said for that, but a whole album’s worth of it is like having the same plain, heavy meal every night for a week. It’s a shame because under the chugging there’s something enjoyably punk rock about the pair. Troy has a battering ram of a voice that maybe lacks total distinctness, but is, nonetheless, pretty cool – she’s clearly modelled her impassioned yelp on Robert Plant, but there’s some Karen O, some Jack White, some Carrie Brownstein in there too, a certain sense of slightly unhinged abandon that’s unfortunately suppressed by the molasses slow music.
Watch The Purge Online : And eye-rolling as some of the lyrics are, one gets the impression they’re being rather tongue in cheek about it all (how else to take lines like “I got rhymes they’re so catchy they’re venereal”?). In the end, though, Sistrioinix is simply harder work than it should be. Some songs are more fun than others – ‘Lies’ really isn’t miles away from sounding like Fever To Tell-era Yeah Yeah Yeah - but the only real moment of respite is an untitled a capella number at the end. It’s raw and uncontrived and just something a bit different, a hint that there could be a more to this band’s music than plodding primary riffola.
Watch Now You See Me Online : But it’s not enough, really – after all the naysaying I honestly think Troy and Edwards come across as musicians of integrity, but that’s not the same as being any good. Sistrionix could be a foundation for something much better or something infinitely worse, but for now Deap Vally don’t particularly deserve your hate or your love. Zomby is far from finished with the eerie, introverted soundscapes that defined his acclaimed second album, Dedication. His new record, a sprawling, utterly absorbing double album, takes a slow-motion look at a range of core electronic genres and spreads their bass and beats over unrecognisably low tempos, creating a signature sound of pulsing, melodic, urban unease.
Watch After Earth Online : It’s the feeling of walking round deserted streets at night; savouring your solitude and the beauty of your moonlit surroundings, but being constantly aware of the threats lurking just out of sight. Sticking to his long-held ‘Fuck Mixing, Let’s Dance’ philosophy, With Love is a far cry from the smooth transitions of many contemporary electronic album; there are no meandering, cross-fading codas to be found here. Bare, slightly jolting cuts string the album’s 33 tracks, yet their collective unnerving beauty is unbreakable, with the album’s length only adding to its absorbing, whole-world-in-a-record effect. Broadly, With Love’s two discs divide into Zomby’s moody take on industrial, jungle, and techno on Volume I, with instrumental hip-hop and sparse, hauntingly beautiful post-dubstep cuts dominating Volume II. Initially, the atmosphere slowly builds through disorientating Crystal Castles-style glitch, spacey dub beats and the tension-ratcheting, climbing-rollercoaster of ‘Horrid’ - and so, Zomby’s (distinctly dark) stage is set.
By the time the old-school hip-hop of ‘It’s Time’ rolls around, and an unusually subdued voice insists “It’s time to go fucking mental!”, it’s long clear that Zomby is no longer interested in indulging in nostalgia or clichéd bass-drops, but is instead crafting something entirely new from recycled pieces of dance music’s history. As the end of the Volume I approaches, he ferociously underlines the point with the tribal drum'n'bass of ‘VI-XI’, which mashes an unsettling, squawking pulse to an insistent loop of someone yelling, “It’s this one, the original!”. Resembling a nightmarish auditory hallucination set in a bustling market, it’s thoroughly overwhelming. Volume II is a noticeably calmer affair. Second track ‘Digital Smoke’ has slow, threatening beats trickling over smears of sub-bass –the antithesis of TNGHT’s burbling, day-glo instrumental hip-hop, this is far more industrial and maintains an astonishing introversion. Skipping over what sounds like slowed down Balearic techno (‘Glass Ocean’) and full-on, pitch-shifting paranoia (‘How To Ascend’), the album’s only collaboration arrives in the form of ‘Pyrex Nights’, with producer Last Japan in tow. With buzzing percussion and a gorgeous melody, it could be a classical score but for the squelching, almost air-horning, bass.
There are also plenty of spiritual themes explored on With Love‘s second half, as ‘Shiva,’ ‘Sphinx,’ and ‘White Smoke’ all impart mystical, sacred undertones, even if the music itself never approaches such overt righteousness. The titles themselves imply that Zomby is searching for answers and a truer sense of self within these sonic journeys, and while the songs don’t necessarily unlock any of those eternal puzzles, they at least provide some comfort and solace while we all struggle to find our own distinct path. There are plenty of small discoveries to be found within each of With Love‘s intricate sound trips, but there is enough mystery and intrigue injected into each textured layer to keep you wanting to find new ways to get lost.
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