Sylvan Esso Drops Glitchy Pop Single "Kick Jump Twist"

After releasing the single “Radio” a little over two months ago, the Durham, NC based duo Sylvan Esso has dropped another thumping, pop-oriented groove. "Kick Jump Twist," like "Radio," begins with vintage, even nostalgic, synthesizers and samples. The bleeps and bloops are emblematic of Atari 8-bit videogames, and it’s hard not to imagine lead singer, Amelia Meath, punching hovering brick blocks with shimmering gold coins popping out.

This plunky beginning, however, quickly combines with Nick Sanborn’s quintessential production. The song masterfully builds, and in comparison to their first record, the latest singles of Esso demonstrate an evolution in composition. Esso seems comfortable with not giving the full drop till much later in the song, creating more complex layers of synths, and playing rhythms off Meath’s voice.

As of yet, there no definitive date for a new LP, but one imagines that with these new singles the sophomore album isn’t far off. You can, however, buy the two tracks out right now as a 12’’ via Loma Vista/Concord/Caroline International.

Listen to "Kick Jump Twist" below, and read our interview with Nick Sanborn here.

'Arrival' is a Conceptually Ambitious and Technically Sound Sci-Fi Story

Early film festival screenings of Arrival generated a lot of positive buzz for director Denis Villeneuve’s latest picture in the months leading up to its release, making it one of the more highly anticipated movies of the year. This, of course, led to some pretty sizable expectations; Plenty of people will go into this movie expecting something great and, for the most part, they will not be disappointed.

The central conflict of the movie is fairly straightforward; When twelve gargantuan alien spaceships land throughout the globe, several teams of experts are gathered to make contact with the beings inside of them. Arrival mostly focuses on the American team, led by linguist Louise Banks (Amy Adams) and physicist Ian Donnelly (Jeremy Renner). These twelve teams must work together to find a way to communicate with the aliens and find out the reason behind their presence on Earth.

Amy Adams delivers one of the best performances of her career as Louise, and that's saying something. She’s the emotional center of the film, and she carries this weight in a very understated fashion. Everything that the viewers experience is seen from Louise’s point of view, and a lesser actress could have been too over the top to be believable as this character. In a movie that almost entirely hinges on the viewer relating to the Louise’s mental goings-on, that would’ve been catastrophic. The supporting cast is adequate, lacking any other real standouts, but also comfortably without any unbelievable performances that would take one out of the story.

Arrival also deserves a good amount of praise for its technical aspects. The directing literally places the viewer inside the head of Louise, and this is complimented by some truly incredible cinematography resulting in visuals that tell the story as much as the script does. The shots in which we see Louise enter both the military lab and the spaceship for the first time show how anxious and overwhelmed she is during those scenes being a standout example.

The production design also deserves to be lauded, with the incredible design of the aliens, their spaceships, and their language never feeling campy. Much like the directing and cinematography, these elements all help tell a story through the visuals only; This is a movie that one could watch on mute and still enjoy. Watching it without sound, though, would deprive viewers of experiencing the score and sound design, both of which are top notch as well. On a technical level, Arrival passes with flying colors.

The film, however, is not without flaws. There is a storytelling device (the explanation of which would spoil crucial plot points) that the movie goes to way too often, resulting in a slow pace at time and choppy storytelling at others. Even though that device conceptually fit the film and sets up the big reveal in the climax, the execution of it was a bit shoddy, hurting the overall flow of the film. Pacing is the movie’s biggest issue, with certain parts of the second act and the resolution of the movie unfolding too slowly.

There are also some issues with characterization, as Jeremy Renner, whose Marvel Cinematic Universe character Hawkeye is often mocked for being there without any real purpose, gets the same treatment in this movie. His character is underdeveloped and is almost extraneous to the plot except for the one moment when he figures something out on his own. Renner does a solid job with the hand he’s dealt, but the script does not really give him much to do.

Still, Arrival is overall an extremely original, conceptually ambitious film that is definitely worth seeing. There will be some bumps, but this superbly crafted sci-fi drama is ultimately a technical masterpiece with a world-class performance at its heart.

Watch the new official movie trailer for Arrival. Coming to theatres November 11, 2016. When mysterious spacecrafts touch down across the globe, an elite team - lead by expert linguist Louise Banks (Amy Adams) - is brought together to investigate.

'Moonlight' is a Tender and Crushing Film About the Unseen American

After an eight-year hiatus from directing feature films, Barry Jenkins returns with his sophomore release, a beautifully executed tale of an unseen American. Moonlight shares the life of a poor, black, gay man, a member of intersecting minority groups often pushed aside and labeled outcasts of society. Jenkins takes a character that feels that he could disappear without a trace and expertly shares his struggle.

Adapted from Tarrel Alvin McCarne’s play In the Moonlight Black Boys Look Blue, Barry Jenkins breaks down the evolution of a man’s life into three parts. The film follows Chiron, a black man growing up in a poor community in Miami, as he comes to terms with his sexuality. Divided into childhood, adolescence, and adulthood, we catch glimpses of pivotal moments in Chiron’s life. In childhood, we get our first look at the bullying Chiron experiences and the unstable home life that shapes his future relationships. In adolescence, we see the progression of that bullying and his first and only experimentation with intimacy. In adulthood, we grasp the long term effects of the mistreatment Chiron endured throughout his childhood and teenage years.

The atypical structure of the film hints at its stage influence, but nothing about the film channels over the top theatrics too often found in film adaptions of plays. It is subtle and patient in its delivery creating constant tension throughout. The transitions between the three sections are seamless, and create a true evolution of character. Trevante Rhodes, Ashton Sanders, and Alex Hibbert give jaw dropping performances as adult, teenage, and child Chiron, respectively. Hibbert’s portrayal of six-year-old Chiron has the same depth and pain as Sanders’ and Rhodes’. The consistency in emotion and sensibility is chilling, unnerving, and crucial in understanding Chiron’s lifelong internal torment. The lack of dialogue and human interaction emphasize Chiron’s loneliness and alienation while the dizzying sensations, captured by cinematographer James Laxton, during the rare instances Chiron finds himself surrounded by groups of people highlight his inability to fit into the societal expectations of black men.

Jenkins does an impeccable job of aligning the audience with Chiron. The shots linger on his face capturing every emotional shift in nonverbal communication, all the sounds are subjective and emphasized according to how he perceives them, and the color blue saturates the screen acting as psychological insight into his constant introspective behavior. And while Jenkins touches on universal themes such as solitude and identity that help garner empathy toward Chiron, his story and position in life is unique, a reality unknown to most people.

The criticism of toxic masculinity and the way race, class, and sexuality influence the opportunities presented to men are placed front and center, but their delivery never feels overwhelming or forceful. Jenkins’ film is restrained and silent yet powerful filled with both tender and crushing moments, resulting in a triumphant and masterful stride towards diversifying the storylines we see in media. 

SUBSCRIBE: http://bit.ly/A24subscribe From writer/director Barry Jenkins and starring Trevante Rhodes, Naomie Harris, Andre Holland, and Mahershala Ali. MOONLIGHT - Coming Soon.

On First Solo Album, 'Use Your Delusion,' Man Man's Honus Honus Does Just That

Until Use Your Delusion, Man Man and Mister Heavenly maverick Honus Honus’ debut solo release, there had never before been a record you could fund in part with the purchase of a $666 denim vest and a disposable camera full of images of faked deaths. But, then again, there has never before been an artist with quite the same bizarro charm as Honus, either.

Despite flying solo, Honus (née Ryan Kattner) is backed by quite the supporting cast: Joe Plummer (Modest Mouse, The Shins, Cold War Kids, Mister Heavenly) pilots the percussion, King Cyrus King (Super Deluxe) contributes production and guitar, Dann Gallucci (Modest Mouse, The Murder City Devils, Cold War Kids) handles mixing, comedian Jon Daly is on sax, and even polymath Mary Elizabeth Winstead (Got a Girl, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, 10 Cloverfield Lane) and Shannon Shaw (Shannon and the Clams) feature.

Still, it’s clear the self-released Use Your Delusion is a cathartic release of the chaotic menagerie stirring in its creator’s wildly whiskered head, loosened by the freedom of truly setting out on one’s own. It’s not easy to match the dynamic eclection of his Man Man discography, but Honus damn near tops it in half an hour. For example, the accessible pop of ”Heavy Jesus" leans more On Oni Pond, “Will You?”’s soothing piano is very Rabbit Habits, and the "sour milk and cocaine" death metal freak of ”Red Velvet" might feel most at home writhing on Six Demon Bag. But Honus explores brand new territory as well with the nearly David Gilmour-worthy guitar solo of “Santa Monica” and the surprise amusement of what can be likened to Eric Idle-esque pomp on album closer “Empty Bottle.”

Having moved his dystopian sound to the west coast, the “apocalyptic LA pop” vibe rings clearest through the surfy tones in the nimble guitar work most notably on single “Oh No!”. Set to lines like “Happiness is just an accident wearing different clothes,” it’s an artfully classic example of sad sentiments stuck in a sunny song. “Your heart is bubble-wrapped in permanent depression,” he coos too a deft touch of sax and an almost reggae pulse resulting in a deceptively delightful package. “Will You?” in turn matches its “Rabbit Habits” keys to the sunlit savagery of a suicide prolonged awaiting love with a paradoxical knowingness few could pull off with sincerity.

First single, “Heavy Jesus,” is similarly bouncy, but replaces the angst with heretic hilarity. They say God works in mysterious ways, but Jesus himself appearing to an unwilling heavy metal disciple via a late night quesadilla is certainly a new one. Use Your Delusion would lend itself well to a similar marketing campaign; It’s not hard to imagine midnight taco trucks blaring this album like an ice cream truck jingle gone rogue.

On “Midnight Caller” Honus claims, “I don’t see any point in honesty / ‘Cause honestly, it’s the worst / And honestly, honesty can take a long walk off a short pier,” with wordplay reminiscent of “Van Helsing Boombox.” Yet Use Your Delusion, nor any other song he’s ever sung, rings hollow or faked, even at his most maniacal. The word “carnivalesque” gets thrown around a lot when describing Honus’ repertoire, but endearingly that’s just what it often is. Honus howls, trapped in a house of mirrors that beautifully distorts the fits and visions of his genius. The alien bearded lady won’t stop screaming.

When Honus first spoke about the then-unannounced LP in an interview we did last year, he told us much of Use Your Delusion would be increasingly gentle on the vocal cords for a couple of reasons; One, Honus was shredding his pipes singing his older material and needed to tone it down in the interest of sustainability, and two, he sang more quietly in his LA practice space out of discomfort with an FKA Twigs knockoff and Bruce Springsteen cover band flanking him through either wall. I like to imagine somewhere they’re giving interviews about the shock of hearing “Red Velvet” from the other room.

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Read our full in-depth interview with Honus Honus about Use Your Delusion, Man Man, Mister Heavenly and more, here. Buy Use Your Delusion here.

The Shins Return at Their Most Playful and Spooky on New Music Video "Dead Alive"

It turns out The Shins are still alive after all... or sort of. While we may not be getting LP5 until some time next year after the release date was pushed back to secure a more favorable position on Coachella's lineup, Columbia Records threw fans a bone today with "Dead Alive," a new music video fronted by a skeleton James Mercer and some classic dream sequence trickery.

Appropriately spooky for the Halloween season, it's their first release since 2014's contribution to Zach Braff's Wish I Was Here, "So Now What," and signals a proper followup to 2012's Port of Morrow. There's some white in Mercer's beard now (!) but the indie mainstays still exude a youthful energy (and wear checkerboard vans) on the new single as they play around with various illusory effects and horror film tropes set to wistful melodies and glowing vocals.

From Department of Eagles to Golden Suits: Fred Nicolaus Talks ‘Kubla Khan’ and More

Photo by Andrea Calvetti

When we last saw Fred Nicolaus, the affable, bespectacled New Yorker behind the Golden Suits moniker, he was scouring Manhattan's bookstores for every last copy of John Cheever's collected stories. There were 46 of them, and he put them all in a sack.

While literary influences are still palpable throughout his solo project, the name of which he mined from the lines of one of Cheever's stories, Kubla Khan finds Nicolaus increasingly confident and intent in his own range of emotions. Wrought in search of self-expression amidst the indefinite hiatus of Department of Eagles, the dorm room joke turned psychedelic folk gem he co-fronted with Grizzly Bear's Daniel Rossen, Golden Suits is Nicolaus at his most pure.

"I want to dance with you tonight / Get my gold feeling," he declares near the start of the new LP. From the sunnily biting "Useless" to the bristling, electric shocks of "Don't Let Love Go By," his brand of melodic alchemy is always an honest, warming one, not least when it's coming directly from the stage.

Before his recent performance at Chicago's Schubas Tavern, we ducked into the basement greenroom to discuss what he did with all those books, how German soccer somehow fits into it all, and more.

Provided to YouTube by Ingrooves Kubla Khan · Golden Suits Kubla Khan ℗ ℗ 2016 Hit City U.S.A. Released on: 2016-10-07 Writer: Fred Nicolaus Auto-generated by YouTube.

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FRED NICOLAUS: I think it said on your [interviewer Weston Pagano] Twitter profile that you’re a fan of [Italian soccer club] Juventus?

TRANSVERSO MEDIA: I am! I was actually contemplating asking you about your [English club] Arsenal allegiance.

Oh yeah, well I grew up watching the German national team ‘cause my dad’s German - there’s actually a line kind of about the German national team on this record - and so when [German player Mesut] Özil signed to Arsenal I just started following them. So I’m not like a true blood Arsenal fan, I just kind of like them. Also at the time [Per] Mertesacker and [Lukas] Podolski were both playing for Arsenal, so it was just a natural choice. I’m sure that’s what the interview’s about; let’s get really into [soccer!] [Laughs]

That's amazing. What’s the line on the record?

Well there’s a song towards the end of the album called “Bells,” and there’s a little German poem at the end. It’s not really a poem, but like a spoken word thing. My dad’s German and I speak a little bit of German, and so there was a hole in the song that needed to be filled and I thought it would be funny if I could get my dad to speak some German on this record in some weird way. And so I just wrote this kind of nonsense poem. The first line is, "Freude schöner götterfunken," which is the first line of “Ode to Joy,” which means “Joy, beautiful spark of the gods,” and the second line is "Für das tor wird Götze suchen," which means “For the goal [Mario] Gotze will look.” So it’s like a stupid joke about Germany and German soccer.

That's interesting because, obviously you no longer do as much sampling as you did during your Department of Eagles days, but I heard that and wondered if you had maybe sampled a German film or something.

Nope, just my dad. He speaks really old school German ‘cause he learned when he was a kid, and he has a very deep voice, so it almost sounds like a sample, but it’s not.

Is that the same golden watch from the cover of your first album on your wrist still?

Oh no, this is a different watch. I do have those watches, [but] I decided it was time to put those away. I did wear those watches on the first Golden Suits tour, but I sort of half-collect watches so I try and buy a lot of them.

I saw that your tour van broke down in Milford, Connecticut the other day and you had to cancel your Boston show.

Oh god, that was the worst. Yeah, that was awful. I’d never canceled a show before, and it was the first time I’d ever had to do it. We broke down - that’s happened before - but we went to a Firestone, which is a garage chain, and the guy said it would take “like 45 minutes or an hour,” and then it ended up taking five and a half hours. We were just sitting there, alternately going to this kitschy Mexican restaurant and going back to sit and watch Star Trek while the car was getting repaired. It was awful. The rest of the tour’s been good though! [Laughs] But that was bad.

I really appreciated your Raymond Carver and Ernest Hemingway parodies of the situation.

[Laughs] Oh yeah, that added a slight amount of levity to a shitty situation.

This video documents my attempt to buy every copy of "The Stories of John Cheever" in Manhattan in one day. It was directed by Devin Hahn and myself.

I notice you often have that literary-based approach, whether it’s referencing those authors or hoarding 46 copies of John Cheever’s collected stories in the music video for "Swimming In '99." Do you still have all those books?

No, I gave them out on tour. I basically took them on the tour for [my first album] and so anytime anyone came up to me and asked me about it I was like, “Do you want one of them?” So now I’m kind of hoping they’ve made their way to secondhand bookstores around the country. It would be my dream of dreams to see one in a bookstore someday. I don’t know if that will happen, but we’ll see.

You could do a sort of golden ticket thing where you leave something in each copy.

I stamped them. They all have a stamp that says, like, “This was bought as part of this stupid video,” and so I’ll recognize them if I see them. [Laughs]

On the cover of your new album there’s another book, “The Life of Sir Thomas More” by William Roper. Why is that?

Yeah, I chose that book largely because it was so written so long ago it’s outside the public domain. So that book in and of itself is not a specific thing, but the fact that it is a book in general that is a conscious choice, obviously. I don’t know, I always cringe a little bit when I read something about myself that [describes me as a] “literary guy." I don’t always know exactly what that means, but I really really love books, they’re a huge part of my life, and a lot of relationships I’ve had in my life have been based around books a little bit, or a shared love of books. And so I feel like to me it’s not so much like I sit down and try to think of complicated words to sing or try to write [songs] like I’m writing a novel, but books and literary culture are so important to me that it finds its way into the songs.

And on that book is written the album title, Kubla Khan. I’m curious what the symbolism of using that figure is.

It’s not exactly symbolism. It’s a very personal thing. It’s another example of connecting with somebody over a book and the book sort of being the conduit. You know when you’re reading a book and you’re really into it it just becomes this world, and if somebody else loves that book too it becomes like this shared world that you kind of have together? I feel like when I think about books and I talk about books in interviews and songs or whatever it’s about that. It’s not about being serious and intense and literary and wearing glasses, it’s about that shared world of a book, and Kubla Khan is kind of a reference to that idea in a way.

On your first record you were coming off this really bad period; you went through a breakup, went broke, lost your home to a rat infestation, and lost something like 40 pounds. Please tell me things went better this time around.

God, yeah. [Laughs] Definitely. The last record was made after one of the craziest, most fucked up years of my life. This record was made, I wrote all the songs, in the time after that when I was single and not living with rats and in a happier place. I don’t think of this record as being so happy, it’s just that when you’re more comfortable in your life and you feel more settled and free you’re freer to take risks and freer to push yourself a little bit more. It’s not that these songs are so much happier, but there’s more of an emotional range. The happier songs are more joyful and the sadder songs are sadder and angry songs are angrier, so it definitely came out of a more comfortable place. I’m really proud of it, whereas the first record I felt a little shy and embarrassed about it.

One of the lyrics that really stands out to me is the bit about "how strange it is to be getting older kiss by kiss.” It’s a beautiful kind of acceptance; even if it’s not fully understanding it’s coming to terms with things.

Yeah, that line kind of came out with nowhere. I didn’t consciously write it like, “oh, what would be perfect?” but it’s a kind of… I don’t know, you said it better than I did, just write down your answer as mine. [Laughs]

Department of Eagles premiered their new video for the single "No One Does It Like You" yesterday at the MoMA. The video is absolutely incredible, especially the wispy singing ghosts. Directed by, Patrick Daughters and Marcel Dzama.

I also really appreciate your solo moniker, Golden Suits, because - while it’s taken from the Cheever story, "The Country Husband" - it feels like a really nice evolution from Butterfly Emerging, which was your codename of sorts when you were in Department of Eagles.

Right, you’ve done your research! [Laughs] Well, I mean, Butterfly Emerging… it’s funny that we’re talking about this. Do you know we were originally called Whitey On The Moon UK?

Yeah, I actually have the original vinyl copy.

Oh really? Oh wow, that’s crazy. Did you read that little essay [in the liner notes]? That’s funny. I mean, that band started like a college joke, so Daniel [Rossen and I] sort of took great pains to make it clear to the world we weren’t being serious, because when you’re 18 or 19 there’s like this… We were just embarrassed about it, or we felt more free pretending that it was all just a dumb joke as opposed to admitting that we were taking it seriously and trying to be good, and so coming up with a name like [Rossen’s] Iron Chrysalis and Butterfly Emerging was like a way to let everyone know, “This was a joke, I don’t care if you don’t like it, fuck you!”

So that was what those names came out of, but it also did come out of a playfulness that we had at the time, you know? And I feel like so much of the growth of Department of Eagles was a way [to put] that playfulness into something that was much more serious and much more refined and stately and dignified, and I feel like, to some degree, Golden Suits is me kind of moving away from that dignity and refinement into something that’s a little more willing to be silly or willing to be goofy, I guess. I don’t know if that’s what you meant, but that’s how I think of it.

Yeah, I mean it’s really interesting to see because obviously there’s a huge shift between the two Department of Eagles records…

Oh god, yeah, it’s like two different bands, basically.

…So it’s interesting now to see how Golden Suits perhaps fits somewhere in between those two extremes as a maybe more honest representation of who you are.

Yeah, I mean, I wrote a lot of those songs, but in [Department of Eagles] I was always more of the guy who was writing the poppier songs - like the single off In Ear Park, “No One Does It Like You” was one of my songs - and kind of the more simple, straightforward songs. But they were always processed through Daniel’s, frankly his genius for arrangement. I mean, he’s one of, I think, best people of his generation to come up with crazy arrangements and make songs sound interesting. And that’s a stupid way to say it, but it’s how I feel. And I feel like a lot of Department of Eagles, we both wrote the songs, but it was his aesthetic that made the recordings, essentially, and so I feel like Golden Suits is my songs, which is part of what Department of Eagles was, but it’s my taste, which is I think a little bit cheesier than Daniel’s taste. But it feels good it feels fun to do songs that are more straight ahead punk songs or straight ahead rock songs and not worry about arrangements being so sophisticated, you know what I mean?

It’s funny you say that, because I met Daniel once, and to me he did seem kind of serious and almost shy. I asked him about Department of Eagles track “Forty Dollar Rug” and he laughed and said that was just you messing around, so I always kind of imagined you in the studio sort of pushing him to be sillier.

Yeah, that’s accurate. [Laughs] I mean, Daniel’s really funny, it’s just that he’s also shy. If you go back to those days it’s not like I was wearing a clown costume with him sitting there reading [philosopher Ludwig] Wittgenstein; he’s a really funny dude. It’s just that I think naturally he’s a little more shy or not as outgoing and a little more contemplative, and generally my energy is a little more [makes excited sound], so it’s not inaccurate. Though he did sing on “Forty Dollar Rug”! So he clearly enjoyed it on some level.

Do you still have that rug?

I do, I have it in my closet.

That’s fantastic. Daniel told me you got it at Kmart.

Yeah, he got it at Kmart. It was like this long argument, we had like one of the longest arguments we’d ever had on how much money we should spend on a rug and how much we should get for it. We got a song out of it, so... [Laughs]

From DoE's debut album, The Whitey on the Moon UK LP (renamed The Cold Nose in 2005).

Apologies if you’re tired of being asked this but I’d be remiss not to; what’s the future looking like for Department of Eagles? Have you and Daniel been in contact lately?

Oh yeah, you know Dan actually did a cover of one of the songs on this record and just released it. I mean, he did it as a favor for me, it’s not like he just did it independently, but I don’t know. We’re still good friends, it’s not like there’s animosity or anything, I think it’s just hard. I mean, Grizzly Bear is just so busy as a band, it’s always gonna be like this big thing that he’s gonna work on, so we’re definitely not working on anything, but it could happen. There’s no specific reason not to do it, I’ll put it that way. 

So I understand you rehearsed and recorded Kubla Khan in the same church you and Daniel used then?

Yeah, I did. We recorded In Ear Park in this church in Brooklyn, and it’s just kind of been in the family. Grizzly Bear rehearsed and recorded there [and] Department of Eagles rehearsed and recorded there. Grizzly Bear doesn’t do anything there anymore, but I had access to it because of that connection, and so we recorded pretty much every song off this new album there. It was interesting to go back to it after six years, or something like that, since we recorded In Ear Park, maybe seven, because I think if I had tried to do that maybe four years ago I would’ve felt so stressed about it, like, “Oh, it has to be just as good as In Ear Park, and it has to sound like this, or sound like that,” but I think enough distance had passed where I was like, “Well, here we are, let’s do this!”

It’s a really special place, though. It’s a really beautiful place to record. You just play the guitar and it sounds great. And it’s annoying ‘cause heat pipes are always going off and birds are always flying in and out all the time and you can hear noises in the street, but it’s kind of part of the charm of it.

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Kubla Khan is out now on Hit City USA. Buy it here.

Phantogram Amps up in Search of New Highs on 'Three'

Following their genre-bending collaboration with Big Boi last year, Phantogram’s next direction was always going to be an expansive and confident one. With Sarah Barthel’s dynamic, sultry vocals now commanding more widespread attention and Josh Carter’s glitchy backdrops earning larger stages, the dream pop trip hop duo found themselves on a deserved platform for growth. In enlisting mainstreamers from Ricky Reed’s (Jason Derulo, Meghan Trainor) glossy production to Semisonic’s Dan Wilson (Adele, Taylor Swift) co-writing credit, Phantogram’s transition from Barsuk indies to Republic pride became increasingly clear. 

On their aptly-named third record, Three, tracks like opener “Funeral Pyre” and plaintive lines including, “I keep on having this dream / Where I'm stuck in a hole and I can't get out / There's always something that's pulling me down, down, down,” carry extra weight in the context of the abrupt passing of Barthel’s sister, who was also a close friend of Carter, during the album’s creation. Through this lens Phantogram touches truly sobering depths, wondering, "Walk with me to the end / Stare with me into the abyss / Do you feel like letting go? / I wonder how far down it is."

But “Same Old Blues” quickly shows for all the morbidity they mustn’t succumb to moroseness in sound, peaking in a powerful gospel-turned-electronica punch with blistering guitar. Flagship single "You Don't Get Me High Anymore" next has Barthel's breathless vocals dancing over Carter's massive, fuzzed-out bass synth bombs at a frenetic pace. “Used to take one / Now it takes four / You don’t get me high anymore,” she cries, and indeed the track is a bold embodiment of the band’s restless climb. Maturing from a humble indie outfit from upstate New York into big league #FestivalKillers rubbing shoulders with Miley Cyrus and rap legends, the duo continues to push themselves to the brink as a louder, flashier, and more sexualized act at every turn.

Featuring a drum machine sonic collage reminiscent of "Don't Move," the sharp standout “Cruel World” seems primed for car commercial levels of ubiquity, but, complete with the nice, subtle touch of the warm fuzz of a vinyl spin we first heard on "When I'm Small," it’s one we wouldn't mind hearing around for some time. With its scattered string samples and equally scattered ramblings, “Barking Dog” is a welcome return to the oft overshadowed strengths of Carter’s increasingly rare lead tracks, but doesn’t quite cut to the same emotional depth as, say, “I Don’t Blame You.”

Urban influences showing through, “You’re Mine”’s electrifying rhythm isn’t unlike - dare I say it - Future’s “Jumpman,” and would feel right at home with Big Boi spitting a verse or two. “Run Run Blood” then features the brass creep of horns contributed by The Antlers’ Darby Cicci, the surprising highlight of a mix that has Phantogram at their most brooding in years. “Destroyer,” in turn, is a vessel for showcasing Barthel’s skyrocketing vocal range.

Hitting the notes required for both dancefloor movability and indie playlist inclusion, Three’s wild sonic and emotional swings can seem jarring. You’d be forgiven for wondering how you got from the initial feelings of loss to the sensual slink of carefree sex anthem “Calling All” in only half an hour, though that transition was long in motion since Big Grams was born. It’s in these ways Phantogram’s third installment sometimes reads less like an album and more like a collection of singles looking to package the eclectic angles of their human condition into different shots at exuberant accessibility, yet each shift arguably feels as natural as the last. Indulging in the instant gratification of radio-ready drops over the more stable, steady charm of classics like “Mouthful of Diamonds,” Three is at times moody and unhinged, but undeniably succeeds at what the duo seems to have set out to do.

Three reveals a Phantogram veering ever closer to the sun in terms of stadium-filling riffs and diamond-polished edges - Carter’s beard and black-rimmed glasses are long gone in favor of basketball jerseys and gold chains, while Barthel has evolved into a full-blown blonde bombshell - but strip it all alway and there’s still enough of their unique charm amidst the beats and bravado for now. What next emerges from the pyre of Three, though, is anyone’s guess.

Porches' Aaron Maine Discusses Dark Muscle, Escapism, and the Obsolescence of the Encore

Cover photo by Jessica Lehrman / Live shots by Andrea Calvetti

"Do you believe in us? I'm scared about everything," Aaron Maine asked a tightly packed crowd in the narrow floor of Chicago's Subterranean dive. As he crooned he brandished cut flowers from a bouquet the openers left onstage like a child picking up an aspergillum, while others adorned his mic stand. A dedicated audience sang and danced along to songs about the protagonist's "loner hour," as if to answer they believed in Porches quite a bit despite - or because of - the aloofness they often exude.

Maine's New York-based project ushered in an era of change on their latest full-length, Pool. The group dropped the period from their name and signed to Domino Records. The subsequent new material unveiled a sharper production and more deliberate, danceable sound. Maine's girlfriend, Greta Kline - better known as Frankie Cosmos - left the band to pursue her own work. Maine went blond.

Transverso called Maine a few days after the show to talk about the tour and ask a few questions about the music and dark muscle he's brought along.

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TRANSVERSO: How are you?

AARON MAINE: I’m good. We’re in Burlington now. Finally got more than five hours of sleep last night, so I’m feeling pretty fresh, and it’s beautiful here, so I’m feeling good.

Sometimes on Twitter before a show I see you asking for someone to host you. Is that what you did last night?

Yeah. It’s kind of funny; usually we’ll just stay with a friend if we have one in the city or get a hotel, but for whatever reason we just kind of reached out a few times on Twitter. It was sweet, [last night] they set up their living room with all these beds and we got in at 3 AM - we drove after the show in Montreal – and it was just nice to kinda chill there and wake up here where we’re playing and not have to drive today.

Have you ever gotten into any crazy situations doing that?

No. It’s funny, this is the first tour we’ve really done this, and last night was the second time. Some guy who we had never met offered his apartment in Boulder and that was kinda funny, being like, “Hello, thank you for having us.” We didn’t even play a show that night, we were just driving that day, but both people have been super hospitable and accommodating so it’s been fine. We got lucky. You can kind of tell, I guess, by looking at someone’s Twitter a little bit what to expect.

So you work under the names of several different characters. Am I speaking with Aaron Maine, Ronald Paris, Ricky Pepsi, or Ronnie Mystery?

Um, I guess I would say Aaron. Yeah. [Laughs] Or all of them.

A lot of your lyrics seem to grapple with a struggle between escapism and connection. You either “don’t want to be here” or you want to “be a part of it all.” You either want to be up in “The Cosmos” or “Underwater.” What can you tell us about that?

Wow, yeah, you just kinda nailed it, I guess. I don’t know, it’s just sort of… I feel like that’s kind of a big part of life; reacting to your surroundings and how they kind of inform how you’re feeling. I guess I just write about whatever I’m feeling that day. Or if some line pops into my head. I kinda like the theme of escapism. It’s like a constant thing, there’s always some kind of interaction happening between where you are and what’s going on around you and if you’re happy where you are or if you’re not and its seems like kind of an endless well of content. I guess it’s easier than writing about more specific situations. I guess I kind of feel like it allows me to inject some more abstract poetry, or like paint like a more abstract mood. So, yeah it’s just kind how I’m feeling most of the time. [Laughs]

Despite identifying with these alternative settings either in “The Cosmos” or “Underwater,” porches are pretty normal, down to Earth places to rest contently. Until you quietly removed it this year you even had a period at the end of your name which seemed to ground things even more. What’s the symbolism of that?

I don’t know. I’m not in love with the band name, Porches, to be honest, and I can’t really even remember what the thought process was of naming the project that. We probably just liked how it sounds. I grew up in the suburbs and I guess it probably came from just enjoying hanging out on the porch, which seems really conflicting with the way stuff is sounding now. I guess the way I see it it’s just a name.

And the period just seemed unnecessary, I guess, so we just started to not include it. It wasn’t that big of a decision. But yeah, it just seems to make sense to stick with [Porches]. Also, sort of why I’ve come up with all these other names like Ricky Pepsi and Ronald Paris within Porches is to kind of differentiate, even if it’s just for my own sake, the different chapters of the band and the sound and stuff. So while keeping the name I can kind of create what kind of feels like a clean slate by mentioning some other names for myself.

The official music video for "Car" by Porches, directed by Daniel Brereton. The 26th installment of the UO Music Video Series features Porches dancing - and glancing - in synchronization in a surreal setting full of soft, pastel light.

Is it strange seeing people sing and dance along to you singing about escapist things like your “loner hour”?

No, I really love that. I kind of planned on the juxtaposition of that more melancholic content adjacent to upbeat dance-ish songs. I feel like I don’t have that much control about what I’m drawn to write about lyrically, but I do feel like I can kind of choose what way to present that, and I just wanted to, especially with Pool, put some sort of thing out that people could definitely dance to and have a positive time during the live show, or, you know, even listening to it on the speakers and headphones. So it’s cool, it’s exciting. I feel like for a while the live show wasn’t like that, and it kind of demanded this other sort of attention from the audience to get on this weirder, maybe not depressing, but kind of angsty emotional level. We played a lot over the past five years and it takes a little time for the older fans to adjust to the new tempo and overall vibe of how the band sounds now, and it’s really exciting to see people kind of catching on and realizing it’s cool to dance and it’s encouraged, and slowly seeing the new direction catch on with the audiences. It’s really exciting.

Is it for that reason you usually avoid putting past material in the setlist, save for “Headsgiving” and maybe one or two more from Slow Dance in the Cosmos? Is it a conscious decision to move on, or do you just want to preserve the experience of the new material more in its entirety?

Yeah, I guess it’s a little bit of both. I think naturally I’m most excited about the most recent music that I’ve made, so it seems natural to me to kind of play most of that stuff. For a while there was a little more half-and-half - newer stuff and older stuff - and it felt like it kinda worked. There’s a way to kind of work the setlist to where we would start off with the newer kind of subtler arrangements and kind of ramp up to the older kind of like distorted rock songs. We’ve just been kind of learning the new tracks from Pool and that’s what were focusing on now, it’s what the press is focusing on now, so it feels good to play that stuff. And I like to throw in some older songs for, I guess myself and for the audience too, like stuff from Slow Dance. We actually learned "Daddies" and this is like the first tour that we’ve ever played that song live, and that’s an even older song, so it’s kind of fun to be able to pluck songs from different chapters from Porches, but I like playing the new stuff a lot.

I’ve seen a couple of your shows this cycle and “Shape” seems to be the only track off of Pool that you don’t play. Is there a reason for that? Personally, it’s one of my favorites.

Yeah, it’s one of my favorites too, we just haven’t gotten around to arranging it. It’s kind of like a trickier one to pull off live ‘cause it is so sparse and relies so much on production in the studio, but yeah, that will happen eventually. I really do like that song a lot and I think it would be cool to play it live.

I read the Pool track “Glow” was an evolution of a demo from years ago, and on Slow Dance in the Cosmos you had a track called “After Glow.” What’s the connection there? Is the latter a sort of sequel?

No, they were actually written pretty far apart. Most of the stuff on Pool, like “Glow” and “Mood,” I wrote those all around the same time, which was a while ago. Maybe like two years or something, which is kind of crazy to think about. But yeah, I was conscious of calling it “After Glow,” and they’re not really related, but I think you could kind of make them related if you wanted to think about it that way. I like the idea of some sort of weird continuity or reoccurring theme between albums or within albums, so there’s that.

I noticed you haven’t been playing encores. Is that a regular thing?

I’ve always had a really hard time with the concept of encores and the fact that as a band you might come to expect it. You even write, like you decide what songs you’re gonna play for an encore, if there is one, and it just seems like a sort of goofy showy thing; leaving the stage and waiting for the audience to call for you to come back. So last tour in the Spring I always felt like so awkward after and never wanted to do it. So it’s not like we we’re not doing encores, but I’ve just been saying “This is where we would end the set and I hope that you guys want to hear the rest of the set, but if it’s cool with you we’ll just play like three more songs - it would be great to just stay up here and finish out the set.” That’s kind of been the best situation for us so far, to just stay up there and play a 15, 16-song set and eliminate that weird encore thing. It seems like a joke.

Do you think the encore will become obsolete then and start to go away?

I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like it. It just seems like textbook now. I imagine in the past it used to be you wouldn’t expect that, and if it did happen it would be a really special thing, and you would come back out. I just don’t like how calculated it’s become, and it seems kind of flashy to expect it. I mean, I’m down if people do it, that’s all cool, but it always made me feel a little strange. So I’m glad that we figured out a way to kind of ask if they mind if we play a few more songs. I did do one last night, for some reason they will usually put on a song right after the last song to signify that the set is in fact over, but there was no song, and people were really yelling for an encore. So I did go back out and play a solo song which was fun and that felt better ‘cause I hadn’t planned on it and I had kind of told everyone that this was the set. But they really did insist, so that felt right.

How has it been touring without Greta for the first time this record?

Probably what anyone would imagine; it’s difficult to be away from her for long periods of time. She’s been touring this year with her new album, and luckily we have the same booking agent and most off the tours have overlapped for the most part, so where it could really get tricky and we could be away for four months at a time, it’s been like, I don’t know, two-ish at the most. So yeah, it’s hard, but it’s good that she’s doing the same thing and we both understand how it works. It’s kind of difficult to communicate and I guess it makes it a little bit easier to not take it personally if it’s hard to get on the phone or something. At the same time I think it’s been nice ‘cause towards the end when we were playing in each other’s bands it just got so hectic. We’d practice together with those bands each week and then we’d tour together and live together and that was a lot. It was fun, but I think it’s also nice to be able to both feel like we’re out there doing our own thing and looking after ourselves, and learning how to look after yourself is an important part of being in a relationship too. So it’s not perfect, but it’s got its perks and it’s got its downsides.

Porches 'Be Apart' (Official Video) Taken from the new album 'Pool' out now.

Is there a story behind the basketball imagery on the cover of Pool and in the “Be Apart” music video?

Sadly there’s not. There’s not much of a story behind the basketball. We just did some press photos with a friend up in the town I grew up in at a friend's pool. I actually had all the artwork kind of planned out and in the template and ready to go, and then I was editing the photos and kind of stumbled across that little cropped image of my hand with the basketball, and it just kind of spoke to me. I just kind of liked the deflated ball. It’s kind of like [The Creation of Adam,] the painting on the ceiling the Sistine Chapel where the hands are kind of out pointed at each other. I thought it had that kind of, I don’t know… you don’t really know whether the ball is drifting away or drifting towards the hand. And so I guess after that I decided on that. It just kind of made sense to put that imagery in the “Be Apart” music video, and I always enjoyed the way basketballs look in strange contexts. Actually, now I’m remembering, I always loved drawing them as a kid. It was fun to draw, so that’s really it; it’s just surface aesthetically pleasing to me.

You painted the cover for Slow Dance in the Cosmos, right?

Yeah, I studied painting at college for three years and would still consider myself as somewhat of a visual artist. I don’t think you can kind of decide not to be that, but yeah, I’ve always made drawings and paintings and stuff and enjoyed doing that a lot. It’s cool to have one part of the music be the visuals and I can kind of express that side of my creativity through that vehicle.

You’ve also created almost an entire clothing line's worth of Dark Muscle merch and have a strong sense of fashion as well. Is this an extension of your visually artistic expression?

Yeah, definitely. I really like the merch aspect of stuff and I’ve been getting more interested in clothes recently, so yeah, it feels really kind of perfect to have a vessel to make stuff under and a platform to sell it on. I’ve never really liked band t-shirts or merch so much; I’ll appreciate it for the graphics but I’ll never really wear a straight up band t-shirt. So I like the idea of either trying to like erase [Porches] completely the from the merch, or either have it be very subtle, and kind make stuff that I would like to wear. I also think its kind of fun to feel like you’re maybe in on something, like you know you’re wearing a Porches shirt but other people might wonder, “What is Dark Muscle?" I guess it’s just more fun for me that way. I get to play around with the idea of what merch for band supposed to be.

People often frown upon wearing a band t-shirt to see that band perform, but you could wear a Dark Muscle shirt to a Porches show and it would be fine.

Yeah, I like that.

You’ve also named your LLC Dark Muscle and used the term to describe your genre as well. What’s the story behind the name?

Dark Muscle just came from, I can't remember if I read it somewhere or if I just thought of it, but it’s a line in “Braid,” “I’ve got a dark muscle too,” and it’s just referring to your heart. I guess I like the idea of just thinking of it as a muscle inside of you that’s obviously dark, just kind of just thought it sounded nice. [I] thought it was funny to have the LLC be called that, and it’s just kind of developed from there. I don’t know if it’s a slogan or a brand.

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Pool is out now via Domino Records. You can buy it here.

'22, A Million' and the Dissociation of Bon Iver

In observance of Bon Iver’s career catalogue to date, each third can be easily identified through a distinct phase or impression: There was the apocrypha of For Emma, Forever Ago, the prophecy of Bon Iver, Bon Iver, and now the martyrdom that is 22, A Million. While the martyrdom is certainly sensationalistic in some regards, there’s a reason for such nomenclature – following Bon Iver’s 2012 Grammy win for “Best New Artist” and “Best Alternative Album,” Justin Vernon desperately needed (for his own well-being, not for the sake of the masses) to shed the label of “indie god.” In a way, Bon Iver had become exactly what Vernon had feared – a proverbial gateway drug to the world of independent alternative folk rock. So Vernon simply “ended” Bon Iver.

The instantaneous termination of Bon Iver devastated many a self-indulgent millennial hipster, of whom had yearned for an Elliot Smith or Kurt Kobain of their own, and to most, that was Vernon. But being placed on a pedestal of overblown apocrypha and adulation was never a desire of Vernon’s, who sought not to appease the fervent masses that had deified him without his consent. So he disappeared, hiding in plain sight the entire time - five years of runs with the likes of Volcano Choir, The Shouting Matches, (the highly publicized) Kanye West collaborations – but never producing new Bon Iver, outside of a commissioned track for a Zach Braff film (“Heavenly Father”), which Vernon aired his criticism of the process on a handful of occasions.

All the while, self-ascribed Vernon-nites pined for more Bon Iver, but Vernon would assert with great confidence Bon Iver was on hiatus, stating that intense writer’s block and creative stunting had impeded the process of envisioning Bon Iver’s next iteration. Then Eaux Claires came along, rekindling Vernon’s Bon Iver creative kick, presenting two new tracks (“666 ʇ” and “29# Strafford APTS”), and the following year, running through 22, A Million in its entirety.

Thus, indie en masse was aroused by the ensuing prospect of a Bon Iver album release, but at what price? The new tracks and eventual single releases – “22 (OVER S∞∞N)” and “10 d E A T h b R E a s T” – were utterly divisive and dissociative amongst fair-weather Bon Iver listeners, sighting the warbled vocoder effects and reverse percussive sounds alongside emoji-laden song titles as uninspired flourishes. But for the initiated and more familiar of Bon Iver faithful, the meaning of the peculiar track titles and hellish sound sequences were apparent – 22, A Million is the martyrous dissociation of Bon Iver as we know, all the while maintaining every tenant of classic “Bon Iver-dom." There are a myriad of reasons why a devout (with blind faith) Bon Iver disciple would assert that every single song serves as an ahead-of-its-time template that the next wave of industrial folk aficionados will undoubtedly imitate in vain.

22, A Million marks Bon Iver’s most impressionistic work to date, operating almost entirely upon an emotional plane. Songs like “715 – CR∑∑KS” delve into a single location that carries such depth and weight for Vernon that it seems as though there’s an attempt to masque the visceral emotion brought about by Vernon through the intricate (and magnificent) musical composition. Other tracks resemble the attempts at obfuscating emotion through synthetic flourishes, warping a distorted Vernon vocal to almost totally dissociate Eau Claire’s prodigal son, as he only provides the most intense and brief glimpses into Vernon’s past five years with little to no context, tracks like “33 “GOD”” being prime examples – “Staying at the Ace Hotel;” corporate branding, I think not.

Less observant listeners have gone as far as opining the newest iteration of Bon Iver is nothing more than bombast and old hat tricks of the indie trade, but one can only hope that such close-minded dismissal of anything other than For Emma or Bon Iver, Bon Iver will become withered and eventually dismissed within its own right upon a simple careful listen to 22, A Million. Where Vernon’s first two projects dealt primarily with the most outright of narratives in service of emotion and verve, 22, A Million focuses on the atmospheric feeling and synthetic grit to best service the project. While the primary focus of 22, A Million will likely never be revealed, as Vernon has become increasingly reclusive (or at least expressed his desire to do so) throughout the promotional cycle for the record, and tracks like “22 (OVER S∞∞N)” hint at a possible end to Bon Iver – “It might be over soon…” – 22, A Million will serve as the finest dissociation of Justin Vernon from Bon Iver, making it the project’s best work to date, and if things truly will be over soon, Bon Iver’s greatest album ever. 

Hamilton Leithauser + Rostam Combine Artfully on 'I Had A Dream That You Were Mine'

“I use the same voice I always have,” belts out Hamilton Leithauser in “Sick As A Dog” to an Edward Sharpe-esque choral echo. With over a decade of expertly exerting one of indie’s boldest howls it would be senseless to stop, and following his former band The Walkmen’s “extreme hiatus” starting 2014 and a solo release in the same year, he has thankfully found yet another vessel to carry them on I Had A Dream That You Were Mine.

Leithauser is at his best at his most strained, anguished, and raw, and in his pairing with newly departed Vampire Weekender Rostam Batmanglij, the Brooklyn veteran offers no shortcomings of any of his strongest qualities while Rostam does his best to mix up the backdrops to the production. Further enlisting White Rabbits percussionist Stephen Patterson, the result is deftly balanced dynamics and a surprisingly diverse combination of styles resulting in an album that somehow feels equal parts eclectic and whole.

Much of Rostam’s production, not least the Vampire Weekend-reminiscent string arrangements, gives I Had A Dream That You Were Mine the feeling of truly being composed. Whether the medium is meandering harmonica or baroque accentuation, the multi-instrumentalist blossoms in the newfound freedom of realizing a long-standing aspiration to write for a voice he spent the last 15 years admiring from the outside.

First single and opening track ”A 1000 Times" breaks right out of the gate with Leithauser's full register of glorious, pleading yowls. The potential energy is immediately palpable in the delicate opening few seconds that serve only to set the stage for a vocal main course that doesn't really let up once it starts. “Rough Going (I Won’t Let Up)” reaffirms their commitment to carrying on while looking back at doo-wop inspiration before “In A Black Out” pauses for finger-picked balladry. Though much of peak Walkmen-era Leithauser vocals are delightfully thrown against a clash of reverb and electric guitar, we have them gently laid over a bed of acoustic here, while a Rostam-procured "Step”-style choir combines to beautifully fill the space.

Banjo-nestled “Peaceful Morning” veers close to saccharine at first before finding its stride in Leithauser’s gentle coos turned cries once more, while "When The Truth Is..." is a swanky blend of bottle slide guitar, steady piano plinks, and a jarringly splendid marriage of his impassioned pipes with those of a saxophone. The latter’s ecstatic barroom brawl of a chorus is a powerful highlight of both the record and their respective careers, flawlessly punctuated with Patterson’s skittering high hat. Submerged in the locomotion of Patterson’s drums, a country twang even pokes through in “The Morning Stars,” and, past the initial confusion of a new voice being introduced just as the credits roll, “1959”’s Angel Deradoorian (Dirty Projectors) feature gives an angelic foil to Leithauser’s lead.

A damn good duo, Leithauser and Rostam are a veritable phoenix rising from indie ashes that wonderfully proves when two doors close sometimes the window that opens lets in more than enough light to fill the bar. To argue that together they’re greater than the sum of their parts would be misleading - this collaboration would have a long way to go before attempting to dethrone either of its member’s past projects - though they at no point rely on reputation to carry the record, leaving us with an album that deserves far more than a footnote when the curtain falls. The dream many of us hold of a Walkmen reunion (and now even a Vampire Weekend one, to some extent) may fade with each passing night, but at least I Had A Dream That You Were Mine can be spun a 1000 times to more than fill the silence.