Springtime Can Kill You
Jolie Holland
(ANTI)

Jolie Holland’s new album, Springtime Can Kill You, is a gorgeous journey with lovely, meandering melodies, relaxed tempos and tender textures. The tunes move with loose intensity and their impact is quiet and subtle; it’s all about Jolie’s relaxed singing, quietly strummed guitar, sparse production, and a touch of country. The music is performed gently and dynamically, affecting in ways more powerful than sheer volume. There is a delightfully weird tenderness in Jolie’s melodies, like the way she sings on “Crazy Dreams”: Her drawl creeps in carefully and naturally, snuck in like an effect at the proper moment – one minute it’s there, now it’s gone. The album’s upbeat title track bounces and swings with the sweetest restraint, the whistling and the horn on the chorus accompanying each other so tastefully. And “Nothing Left But to Dream” is heartbreakingly gorgeous with its pedal steel swells, haunting harmonies, and beautiful bridge. Reflecting on Springtime Can Kill You, I feel as if I should be dressed up in my finest clothes, sipping delicious drinks and enjoying the quiet company of friends on a mellow Sunday afternoon in a classy, dimly lit club, with Jolie and her band onstage and the audience quietly listening. The music compels such respect.

– Ben Tuttle

The Rose Has Teeth in the Mouth of a Beast
Matmos
(Matador)

Matmos make methodology matter. Where much ‘electronica’ lacks organic nuance, this is nothing but subtle, meaningful gestures. While many electronic acts find themselves teetering between unintelligible abstraction or groovy mass accessibility, Matmos claim both as playgrounds and seem equally comfortable making musique concrète or minimal house, often in the same song.
Each piece on this album is a tribute to someone interesting to the duo, from philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein to seminal DJ Larry Levan to would-be Warhol assassin Valerie Solanas to the Germs’ Darby Crash – the underlying thread here might be personalities that were socially marginal among contemporaries, folks for whom being a pioneer was obligatory.

Albums this concept-heavy often fall flat on their presumptuous faces. Considering the weird sound sources used (saucepans, secret sex club recordings, cow uterus, roses, manure, hair clippers, and other things somehow referential to the material) and the album’s theme, it’s hard at first to imagine anything like this becoming mainstream, let alone widely listened to. But within ten songs you’re moved through spaces that alternate from super funky to catchy soundtrack-type numbers to abstract sample manipulation, and it all flows together effortlessly, a graceful patchwork that is much, much more than the sum of its eclectic parts.

- Eric Becker

Pick a Bigger Weapon
The Coup
(Epitaph)

Like Paris and Public Enemy before them, The Coup have been cranking out potent political hip-hop for over a decade. While their message may be lost on the Viacom/Clear Channel-controlled airwaves of today, they have managed to persevere, dropping insightful, thought-provoking music that unabashedly attacks the mass-produced ignorance dominating "urban" radio these days. Pick a Bigger Weapon is their fifth full-length since 1993, and finds the duo – emcee Boots Riley and DJ Pam the Funkstress – continuing to fight the powers that be through uncompromising rhymes and funk-laden production. The album benefits from lots of live instrumentation, with colorful keyboard flourishes and wah-wah guitars, plus guest spots from like-minded heads Talib Kweli and Black Thought. Some joints bubble over with classic party groove sensibilities; "Get That Monkey Off Your Back" harks back to early Del and Digital Underground, while the shoplifter's anthem "I Love Boosters!" sports exceptional horn riffs and seriously poppin’ low-end. Throughout the LP they call out Bush, mock conglomerates, and warn against the dangers of plastic surgery, though mellower selections "MindF*ck (A New Equation)" and the filtered bass-driven love jam "I Just Wanna Lay Around All Day in Bed with You" are also standouts.

There are a few questionable beats, but Boots' deep flow and lefty lyricism ties it all together, and all in all we are treated to another solid effort from one of Oakland's longest standing outfits. Bigger Weapon may not change the world, but it makes for some good listening, especially for those fed up with the state of the union, in rap music and America as a whole.

- Brolin Winning

What the Toll Tells
Two Gallants
(Saddle Creek)

From hoedowns at BART stations to the hallowed halls of Omaha indie purveyors Saddle Creek Records, SF’s Two Gallants have proven themselves a force to be reckoned with. But I missed something: The boat must have sailed without me as I was barely able to stave off boredom while What the Toll Tells bounced off the walls of my apartment. Here’s the deal: Their sound tends to be repetitive and uninspiring at worst and vaguely amusing at best. Think the Bloodhound Gang if they stopped telling titty jokes. I know, I know … being that I live in San Francisco I am supposed to like these shaggy hometown kids, but even after multiple tries at What the Toll Tells I haven’t really gotten it yet. The high points of the album are found in the meandering tribute to melancholia “Threnody,” which featured enough instrumental layers and nifty lyrical twists to stay strong for its nine-and-a-half-minute duration, the effervescent “Las Cruces Jail” and their ode to everybody’s favorite place to pick up heroin, “16th St. Dozens.”

Who knows, maybe I’ll get it soon. I mean, it took me until this year to appreciate Captain Beefheart.

– Joshua Steele

From Here on Out
The Cuts
(Birdman)

It's near impossible to listen to Oakland's The Cuts and not be transported back to the time of vinyl and 8-tracks. One listen to their third and latest release, From Here on Out, will bring you back to the familiar sounds of '70s NYC art rock and '60s AM pop; it’s obvious these guys make no apologies for the apparent influences running through the record. The Cuts pay homage to the bands of yesteryear and they do it well – the music will remind you of some velvet morning in 1975. Andy Jordan’s voice is reminiscent of a young Tom Verlaine, nestled in a mix of swirly guitars and keyboards that cascades throughout the album. With its pretty melodies, catchy hooks and the help of a strong rhythm section, From Here on Out is a pretty light undertaking as all the songs blend seamlessly into one another. None of the songs seem to jump out at you, but this isn't necessarily a bad thing. Call it psych-rock, retro-rock or just plain rock. A little bit sappy and a little bit hippie, these boys are bound to do well with the underground psych-rock fanatics.

– Michele Foley

Film School
Film School
(Beggar’s Banquet)

Maybe the best time for me to listen to Film School’s new album isn’t while riding down Oak Street on my rusty yet trusty Nishiki, trying to catch all the lights in a mad rush to get downtown. The droning yet melodic swirl of Nyles Lannon’s guitar on tracks such as “Pitfalls” and “11:11” is distracting like codeine-laced cough syrup, making avoiding cars and their signal-less right-hand turns really tough. Alwaysnever, Film School’s shoegazer classic EP, was my showoff album for East Coast friends who would disparage the Bay Area scene and I was initially disappointed by their step towards a more linear structure on this self-titled album. But just because a band learns how to write a complete song and ceases to rely solely on feedback doesn’t mean that they should lose my love! Nowhere is this more evident than in the pulsating yet haunting “He’s a Deep Deep Lake” which, like a Led Zeppelin song covered by My Bloody Valentine, goes from peak to valley and back again on sonic overdrive. As I make it to the Embarcadero and dismount my steed, I’m happy to state that Film School takes the best elements of bands like Ride, Swervedriver and Slowdive and brings them into the 21st century with unfair moxie.

– Joshua Steele

States of Abuse
Various Artists
(Entartete Kunst)

Hip-hop in its ‘80s heyday rejected corporate America's established norms; theatrical accessories like cars and bling parodied capitalist values. How better to anger your oppressor with your own success than to never wear suits and ties, instead flaunting leisure with designer jogging suits, 24k gold and a customized ride? Fast-forward twenty years; the mainstream and aboveground genre called hip-hop lately sounds like it's written by Tourette’s-addled teenagers in a suburban mall, shouting out expensive brands.

From open disenfranchisement to openly coveting a piece of the franchise, consumerism has cunningly defused potential young "troublemakers" with shiny materialist distractions. Trouble is, that doesn't solve anything that was wrong to begin with, which is why States of Abuse, by the Entartete Kunst collective, is so overdue: When the first track namechecks Proudhon instead of Vuitton, you've got my attention. Well-produced beats of many flavors (global and domestic) offer something for everyone, from Mid East-flavored instrumental tracks with political soundbites to grimy UK underground riddims to conscious French hip-hop to homegrown Amerikkkans brandishing the scariest weapon of all – language. In fact, I can think of few things more threatening to the current establishment than a literate Leftist urban youth movement.

– Eric Becker