I wanted to make sure any visitors to this site were kept abreast of where you can find my (semi-) regularly updated writings.

Most of my time these days is spent editing and writing for Texas Music magazine, and you can find some of this work in newsletter form here.

As often as I can, I blog over at Austin Writes Music. (By the way, if you’re interested in contributing to that site, please contact me; I’d love to get that rolling on a more regular basis.)

Finally, my friend and ex-Rolling Stone colleague Chris is just about to re-launch Neon Musical Insight, and I’ll have a review up there when it’s live on Monday.

See you ’round the interwebs!

-Caitlin

I’ve been crazy-busy, taking on new roles at Texas Music, writing mad amounts of reviews for Neon Musical Insight (see my updated “Clips” section) and trying to keep Austin Writes Music somewhat alive whilst taking on a job at the Examiner – not to mention, I just did 7 guest pieces for the DT Weekend, hitting newsstands around Austin (and the glorious interwebs) tomorrow. All this, with South by Southwest fast approaching…it’s a bit overwhelming. The fabulous news is, I have had the wonderful opportunity to hear tons and tons of creative, exciting music this year, and it’s only March!

I’m going to make my “Austin Writes Music-approved” SXSW suggestion list this weekend, so look for that post, plus new content for the Examiner and more, in the very near future. I’m hoping to carve out some time to write for pleasure, too, because I don’t want to lose sight of the fun in all of this. I am alive, I am generally happy and well, and I’m forging ahead on this exciting ride called life.

I will say a quick piece on what I disagree with about the article – I don’t think Lady Gaga is the pinnacle of feminism, either.  The fact that she hides her unusual-by-pop-star-standards face and wears “crazy outfits” that tend to show off her figure doesn’t make me feel like she’s fighting against any stereotypes, and I think in raising her up on some high-art pedestal reinforces the same dichotomy of virgin-vamp that Riese rightly proposes we should fight against.  In an ideal world, women could make their choices freely (abstinence, sexual experimentation and everything in between) without feeling lame, shamed, or frightened.  I also think that, dress in strange costumes and film stranger music videos though she will, Lady Gaga is still just churning out catchy, danceable pop sugar for us all to enjoy.  Though I admittedly have not delved into her whole catalogue of songs, the popular ones I’m familiar with don’t tread on unfamiliar territory anymore than Swift’s do.  She sings about getting wasted at parties (“Just Dance”), and love (“Poker Face,” “Love Game,” “Bad Romance,” and to an extent “Paparazzi”).  Yes, Gaga’s version of love is dirtier than Swift’s…but can we all agree that women might want more than romantic love?  This is why I’m 100% behind Beyoncé, who kicked out a tune about how women deserve to be treated with an all-female backing band to boot.

Friendship, self-love, adventure, meaning; all these are song topics that would be truly revolutionary.

“I’ve already shared some of my qualms with you: that I feel her win represents a sinister endorsement of mediocrity/Wonderbread, that it means Digestible beat Daring and I prefer daring, that I’m irked by her consistent inability to recognize more deserving nominees in her acceptance speeches, and that her entitlement to a blatantly untrue ‘fairy tale’ narrative tastes disingenuous and cheap.”

“Listen up; if I ever get my life together enough to reproduce other life forms, they will not be joining Taylor Nation – they will be brave, creative, inventive, envelope-pushing little monsters who will find a pretty, skinny white blonde girl in a white peasant shirt strolling through nature-themed screensaver-esque fantasylands singing about how “when you’re fifteen and somebody tells you they love you, you’re gonna believe them” not only sappy, but also insulting to their inevitable brilliance.”

“It goes without saying — because, of course, no one wants to say it — that Swift was able to succeed so early ’cause her family was both supportive & wealthy enough to enable her ambitions. Swift had dreams, she chased ‘em, and she got ‘em; all before puberty! That’s not a Cinderella story, that’s more or less the most awesome childhood of all time.”

“Swift’s songwriting is as thematically ambitious as a 15-year-old’s LiveJournal, which is to say, like a 15-year-old’s LiveJournal, it never strives for thematic weight or challenges ideas not already covered by Sweet Valley High or The Children’s Illustrated Bible.”

I am launching a new music blog, AustinWritesMusic.com. It is still very sparse at the moment, but I’m hoping that now that it is out in the ether, I’ll receive submissions from other folks who can help me generate content for it. Check the “About AWM” page for an explanation of why I’m doing this; the quick-n-dirty is that I’ve got tons of creative friends (writers/photographers/designers/musicians/etc.) and I want a place to showcase their work. I currently have a review up of Loxsly’s last show as Loxsly, which you can read here.

A review with Canadian-turned-New Yorker JBM will be up this week, too. This little blog might see less traffic since I’m shifting my focus to AustinWritesMusic.com, but I’ll still try to populate it with fun stuff every now and again. And please, if you’ve been reading my reviews and have enjoyed them, just shift on over to the new site; I’ll still be posting there frequently! Also check out my work at my friend Chris’ music blog, Neon Musical Insight.

Anticipation for Norwegian Lerche’s appearance was already rife when JBM (the touring name of musician Jesse B. Marchant) took the stage at 9pm; you could tell by the giggly, almost-hysteric excited chatter all around.  So when Marchant’s unfamiliar-to-most figure entered the scene, applause was slow to start and somebody even half-shouted, “I don’t know your name!”  This wasn’t a problem for long.  About halfway into Marchant’s opening acoustic guitar-only piece, “Years,” the room was quiet, and when he flowed seamlessly into “Cleo’s Song,” you really could have heard a pin drop.  His voice, reminiscent of Jim James’, echoed in the room with near-heavenly impact.  JBM keeps his eyes closed during his performances, like he is pulling these songs out from deep, personal places in his heart and mind.  The lyrics add to this impression – for example, in his third song, “Going Back Home,” the little, sad line, “The faces I see, the friends I don’t keep” is a brutal admission breathed quietly over melancholy chords.  For his fourth song, just in case there were any jaws not resting on the floor, Marchant moved to his seat behind a bass drum and cymbal-tambourine setup, and proceeded to pick out a pattern on his electric guitar whilst accompanying himself on the rhythmic instruments and singing.  Talk about coordination – one can only imagine the hours spent practicing in order to pull this off as effortlessly as JBM did.  The Parish’s atmosphere made everything more epic, as Marchant himself noted:  “This is my first show with a smoke machine.”  Marchant added more heartache to “In A Different Time” with his harmonica, but then tossed it aside to switch back behind the drums for “No Matter if the Rain,” which gave a sense that you were his friend, standing around his living room while he showed you a few things he’d written.  There was candidness to his movements, and shyness to his stage presence that made the music all the more personal.  For his final song, Marchant pulled one more trick from his bag:  he recorded different looped guitar parts on his pedals to accompany himself in performing “From Me to You and You to Me.”  I’ve seen this done a number of times now, but it bears repeating that the fearlessness of JBM’s performance in itself is breathtaking.  He lays down parts so quickly, it would seem he doesn’t even need to think – his fingers just take him along on a musical journey.  Another lyrical standout that immediately tugged at my heart was the line, “Feeling free don’t come cheap anymore.”  A melancholy thought to ruminate on, to be sure.  Yet, by the end of Marchant’s set, it seemed the audience was all smiles at having participated in such a gorgeous and captivating musical experience.  Let’s hope this Canadian-cum-New Yorker heads down south more often.

When Sondre Lerche entered the scene a little after 10, there was a collective swoon throughout the audience.  It’s always interesting to hear Lerche’s songs live, because they are almost always super-stripped, just Lerche and his guitars, which is basically the opposite of his lush, orchestral arrangements on record.  Yet, though it’s just Lerche’s voice and fingers bringing the rawk, he still manages to fill the space with his tunes.  This is likely due to a combination of things:  Lerche is a talented guitar player, and has complete control over his sweet, soaring voice.  Most of all, he plays with an indefatigable energy, at times bubbly and, when needed, heavy.  He is a performer in every sense, and a joy to watch.

Lerche opened with “Good Luck,” the first track off of 2009’s Heartbeat Radio.  Within the first verse of the song, a girl standing behind me whispered to a friend, “He’s giving me goosebumps!”  The intensity Lerche threw into the song was so great that he broke a string by its end, which prompted JBM to save the day by charging onstage and taking away the bum acoustic for repair.  In the meantime, Lerche drew from 2007’s Phantom Punch with “Airport Taxi Reception.”  For the instrumental break near the middle of the song, Lerche ripped at his strings, picking out a pattern at breakneck-speed, and when he finally neared the end of this epic breakdown a guy in the crowd gasped exhaustively, “Oh my God!” to great laughter and applause – we could all understand his astonishment.  Slowing it down a bit, Lerche crooned on “I Guess It’s Gonna Rain Today.”  Without the strings, the song became a sweet, simple lovesick poem for the audience; appropriate lyrical content, too!  “Two Way Monologue” induced on of the louder sing-alongs, although voices throughout the crowd could be heard joining Lerche’s on every song.  The audience was very forthcoming with their adoration of Lerche, like on “Heartbeat Radio” when he proposes, “Tell me what you think about this song” – cheers, whistles and applause abounded.  Lerche wasn’t too shy to romance the crowd, either.  “(You Knocked Me) Off My Feet” was played tenderly, with earnestness, and had a dreamy 50s-prom flair as it swayed and swirled around our ears.  Lerche’s sweetest intentions seemed somewhat foiled by his earlier string break – his guitar went out of tune just in time for his solo, and an exasperated “God damn it!” passed his lips as he quickly tuned up.  Picking up the pace again, he led us through the opening track on his very first album, Faces Down.  “Dead Passengers” led Lerche’s silky-smooth voice through a gentle melody, but the force with which he slammed his strings during another instrumental solo could be felt down to your bones; it wasn’t violent, simply explosive.  “My Hands Are Shaking” off of the soundtrack to Dan In Real Life made it into the set, and after the crowd began begging for particular tunes.  Someone in the back yelled, “Born in the USA!” which led Lerche to wax poetic on what a great song that is.  He cut himself off and, with the air of a school teacher, instructed his class, “Alright, let’s move on.”  A fan at Lerche’s Dallas show asked him to play “Single-Hand Affairs,” a bitter tune from the EP Don’t Be Shallow, and though he hadn’t performed the song “in years,” he played it with accuracy and honesty.  Lerche rounded out his pre-encore set with “Sleep On Needles,” a personal all-time favorite.  The song opens with the verse, “Ask me anything you like/I’ll reveal everything.”  It’s a blunt offer, almost sung as a dare, and it fits the heavier mood of the song.  It’s a love song, but it’s sung as a lover’s quarrel; there is frustration at the song’s recipient in only the way people in a close relationship share frustration.  It kept the room’s energy high so that, mere moments after Lerche bounded off the stage, he was pulled right back by needy fans.  He posed the question, “Would you like to rock, or would you like to mope?”  As the crowd reached a consensus, Lerche laughed as he mimicked, “Mope!!! Mope!!! I wanna mope!!!”  He obliged and sang the Phantom Punch depressant, “Tragic Mirror.”  Finishing the night was a crowd-participatory version of “Modern Nature,” as a choir of fairly accurate voices took over Lillian Samdal’s duet part.

During the show, Lerche admitted to the crowd that, having moved to America from Norway, for a while he didn’t have a lot of close friends in the states, so he’d just go around before shows asking random people to be placed on his guest lists.  He was happy to announce that, for this show, he finally had friends in Austin to put on his list.  Based on Lerche’s talent, charisma, good-natured personality and humility, I’d wager he’ll have a long list of friends across the country by tour’s end.

The guys were incredibly tight performers, knocking off tons of songs from the new album, plus some throwbacks and crowd faves.  They kicked it off with “I Saw the Light,” getting into the instrumental breakdown without getting carried away.  “Mystery Zone” is slightly less monotonous live, and with his hipster glasses on Britt Daniel seemed to fit the song well.  “Got Nuffin” was the first tune to really get some bodies shakin’ (as much as they did, anyway), and they followed that up with an epic version of “Don’t Make Me A Target” that saw Daniel’s voice echoing a cry of “Don’t!” out into the stratosphere.

Spoon clearly defined themselves as still being an Austin band, as in a lull, an audience member shouted, “How’s Portland’s weather?”  Daniel quipped, “I haven’t been in Portland for two months.  I’ve been hangin’ out here.  There are reasons for that.  Some of them are here.”  It was earnest, and it felt good to hear it as an Austinite.  Appropriately, the group bust out “Nobody Gets Me But You” right after, and ripped off two more great tracks from Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga, “Rhythm & Soul” and “Don’t You Evah,” before taking a break.  Their encore was solid, including standout Transference track “Is Love Forever?” and Ga Ga…’s “You Got Yr Cherry Bomb.”  They ended the whole set with “Jonathon Fisk” off of 2002’s Kill the Moonlight, a slightly surprising choice as it was not a new song, nor one of their myriad other surefire crowd-pleasers (“I Turn My Camera On,” “The Underdog” and “The Way We Get By” are just the first few that jump to mind).  Still, it seemed the perfect fit for the beautiful day, with its summery bounce and poppy wordplay.

I think the best thing about seeing Spoon in concert is that it felt like I was seeing a part of history.  Spoon was one of the groups to really put Austin, Texas’ indie music scene on the map, so whether you love or hate what they do, at the very least you’ve got to respect the path they tread.  They are a huge part of the reason I am now able to enjoy so many fantastic acts in this city, and surely a huge part of what has drawn talented musicians and artists to Austin over the years to build the community.  They’re the everyman and cool-ass rockers wrapped up in a one-syllable package, ‘cause one syllable’s all they need.

Opening track “Before Destruction” didn’t immediately win me over, but it made me curious.  It’s got those creepy Radiohead-esque electronically-altered voice echoes that are intriguing and disorienting, a cymbal-and-bass-drum drive that sort of chugs along like it were injured, and it seems to end before it completes a thought.  Still, it’s memorable, if only for the line, “Just as you’re leaving you turn around and take a cold shot.”

It was the second song, “Is Love Forever?” that first sparked interest in me.  I know the exact sound, too – it’s that bass explosion on every third beat that sounds as if it is literally one of the band members standing near the mic, going, “Bloooosh!” with tight lips and puffed cheeks.  It’s too much fun to ignore, and when you add to that the recognizable Spoon guitar line, you’ll find your head bobbing unconsciously.  The lyrics of the song try to work out the concept of love as if it were a life-or-death task; Britt Daniel seems to almost beg, “Are you quite certain, love?”  A keeper track, to be sure.

“The Mystery Zone” is catchy, but admittedly one of my least favorite tracks on the album.  This song is equivalent to that subject your significant other is completely passionate about, but that you just don’t really care about.  They go on and on about it (the mystery zone), and you kind of nod and throw a smile their direction every now and again, but you’re not really listening.  It all just seems to drone on to you, and it is relentless.  Finally, there’s this strange electric guitar laser beam that breaks everything up for a second, like a name you recognize, and then it transitions right back.  For another two minutes.  I’d definitely argue this is the weakest track on the album.

Did it suddenly get a little hot in the room?  The echoes of synth paired with Daniel’s sensual “ah”s and “ooh”s sex up “Who Makes Your Money,” and the slower tempo might put a little swagger in your step.  Near the end of the song, the effect of Daniel moving toward and away from the mic as he sings the title verse practically puts him right next to you, and gives it that personal lo-fi flair.

With the opening warm-up piano chords on “Written In Reverse,” I always think it is going to be a completely different song than it is.  When the piano finally blasts in with the drums, there’s discord there.  It’s an argument song, but the kind that makes you love your sparring partner more.  They drive you crazy, but it’s kind of hot when they get all flustered.  The strain in Daniel’s voice on “I’m not standing here” is almost tangible, and its force will clench your fists.  Still, at the end, the laughter helps you know the fight’s over as you move onto “I Saw the Light.”

There’s soul in this song, and a little swing in the rhythm of its first half.  Plus, can we just talk about how awesome it is to have the slightly risqué line, “And I felt all creamed on in white/I felt so permanently alive” hammered out on our ears?  With that, the song seems to almost escape into an instrumental breakdown; it has the potential to go super-crazy, but in the end, it remains restrained.  It seems to finally wimp out at the end, but it’s a forgivable offense for the song it makes way for.

“Trouble Comes Running” is my favorite track on the record.  It’s got the kind of movement that makes you feel alive, that brings out the wild ass-kicker in you.  It’s when you strut into a bar with your honey just because you want to be seen with ‘em.  It opens up with what sounds like a guitar played through some old transistor radio, and breaks at Britt’s “Oh!”  There’s a classic pop-rock sensibility to this song, and it builds in recurring waves.  And really, let’s bring back “Are you picking up what I’m putting down?”  What a fantastic figure of speech.  The best verse, though, has to be at the beginning:  “I had my Brown Sound jacket/Queen of call collect on my arm/She was my calmer down/She was my good luck charm.”  If that doesn’t infuse you with a little Fonzie, nothing will.

I’m a true believer in everyone having a softer side, and even if it takes you over half an album to get there, it’s usually worth it.  “Goodnight Laura” is a sweet, short lullaby with a tender message.  Of course, for rockers like Daniel, drummer Jim Eno, piano man Eric Harvey and bassist Rob Pope, we can’t linger in a place like that for long.

Still, “Out Go the Lights” keeps us at a strolling pace.  This is a comfortable song, but kind of background noise – it just kind of wanders on, never really going anywhere.  It’s another of the weaker tracks on the album, but this one isn’t necessarily boring; it’s more of the small talk you make at brunch when your mind is elsewhere.  A little dreamy and distracted.

“Got Nuffin,” on the other hand, is an attention-grabber.  There’s determination in the song, and excited energy.  This could be the moment when you feel like the relationship could go somewhere.  You’ve known the person a while, and you’re nervous and anxious and happy and terrified all at once of the prospect of it all.  Near the end, as a choice presents itself, everything quiets down for the bass and guitar to plug along, but there doesn’t ever really feel like resolution; just a quick fade as you’re left to wonder.

The payoff in the relationship with this record is captured perfectly in the lyrical content of “Nobody Gets Me But You.”  A critic’s dream, it’s a song with Old West musical flourishes; the twisted piano arpeggios sound exactly like those from a Western shooter computer game my brother and I played in the early part of the millennium (and if I ever remember the name, I’ll be sure to share it).  Having explored the whole record, this feels like the perfect finish; like a passionate thank-you from Daniel and co. for putting in your time with the album.  Still, with Spoon-ish attitude, Daniel couldn’t help to throw in the line, “Nobody cuts me like you.”  Love hurts.

This record has things that immediately attract you, plus those that will keep you around.  It’s spunky, quirky, sexy, self-assured and imperfect.  Whether this is a new chapter in the long relationship you’ve already formed with Spoon, or your first rendezvous, you might want to order another drink.  This one might stick around a while.

Bear Bones, the moniker for former Electric Touch bassist Ross Dubois, is a folksy singer-songwriter with a twist – his voice reminds me distantly of Chris Isaak, smooth and bright, and his melodies sometimes lean into 80s pop fodder.  The lyrics seem to lean either towards coming-of-age issues, or love stories.  The open, quiet backlot space suited Dubois, creating an intimate, VIP setting for him to tell his tales.  I had two favorites.  The first, called “Knockout,” was cute, and likely what many ladies hope they mean to that certain someone.  It’s an admission of admiration for uniqueness, and there’s almost a sense of guilt or agitation lingering on the dark chords.  The second was a cover of the Steve Earl song, “The Mountain.”  It was raw and honest, stark but beautiful.  I’m excited to see what the future holds for Dubois; I’m definitely a convert.

Ideal Soul Mart hit the stage next, and per usual, put on a stellar performance.  Stage banter involved lots of talk of Conan O’Brien’s last night on the air (which happened to be this night), and happy wishes and warm thanks for Jen.  Highlights included “You Belong To The City,” which allows Adam to snarl the word “back” with grit and energy, and both of the group’s newer tunes, “Relative Measure” and “You Gotta Learn Someday.”  The duo is always fun to see live because of their output – they actually care about what they’re doing, and it shows.  Their next scheduled performance is February 12 at Lamberts, so check ‘em out for yourself – if their multi-instrumental musical-chair-like act doesn’t impress you, nothing will. (And if you’ve somehow missed previous reviews of the guys’ work on this site, check here for my rundown of their self-titled 2009 release, #6 on my top 10 albums of the year.)

Stereo Is A Lie was on next, a group I had not seen since March ’09 at South by Southwest.  Still, the instant the first chords rolled off of their instruments, I remembered – they’re a big-sounding rock band, great for fans of Oasis and Jet.  Though all members are clearly skilled musicians, what makes this band is lead man Glynn Wedgewood.  He’s got that entrancing swagger and confidence that forces you to watch him and belies his small frame; he’s a giant when he’s performing.  Wedgewood’s aura coupled with the band’s big sound made the Beauty Bar stage feel far too tiny – this is a band that needs to perform in a stadium or at a festival, with room to echo and fans to dive into (as Wedgewood did anyway at the end of the group’s last song.)  Proof:  my beer glass vibrated in my hand from the swirling sounds leaping off of every surface.  You know that’s rock!  Bonus:  Davy Hamrick is not only a lively drummer, but he looks like Thom Yorke.

The last group to perform was Buttercup, and they had a pleasant Americana-meets-pop rock vibe.  They kicked off everything with a strange (inside joke?) rendition of the birthday song for Jen, who they then performed “Destiny” with.  Lead man Erik Sanden reminds me of a cross between Tom Petty and Ben Kweller, singing earnestly and connecting with the audience.  They have a fun energy, and I’m happy to report that they’re from San Antonio (hometown shout-out!)

From homemade cupcakes to back-alley entrances, the night was a joyous celebration of a wonderful supporter of Austin music and a great showcase of local talent.  Let’s do it again next year, shall we?

Horchata:  I went to the listening party with my friend Raquel, and she asked me if I knew what horchata was.  I said no, and she explained that it’s a type of beverage popular in Spain and Latin America, and was pleased that the band used the term, because it might expose more people to that culture.  She then wondered aloud whether or not people would take the time to look it up, and I think it’s a valid point.  Though I love the musical aspects of this tune, it’s interesting how Koenig and co. mix cultural words (they follow “horchata” with “balaclava,” the traditional Ukrainian head-covering).  The song still makes sense, but I can’t help that slight feeling of pretention, particularly because the opening of the tune focuses so directly on the lyrics and Koenig’s voice (accompanied only by some kind of xylophone).  Lyrics aside, the tune is both energetic and beautiful at the same time.  The chorus of voices in harmony soaring over the top of the drum rhythm is ethereal, and the layers upon layers of different instruments that weave in and out of the song will take more than a week of careful listening to parse out.  Vampire Weekend are often cited as delving into African rhythms and sounds, and though these are definitely here, there are others, too.  There’s a sort of Indian synth-horn part that breaks in during the last twenty seconds, not to mention the classical feel to the string arrangements.  It’s a complex song with cultural nods all over the place, but even if you listen casually, your head is guaranteed to bob along.

White Sky:  This one opens up with arcade-era electronic blips, but almost immediately introduces that great Graceland-like electric guitar riff to make this a recognizable Vampire Weekend song.  I love the play here of the words, “It all comes at once,” breaking immediately into the chorus of “ah-ooh”’s, pushing Koenig’s falsetto to impressive heights.  The chants of “hey!” punctuating the later choruses add to the sense of movement in the song.  This one just begs to be a single.

Holiday:  This is my least favorite song on the album.  It’s not a bad pop-rock nugget, but it sounds like it could have easily been on the first album.  I think that, because all of the other songs continue to reveal little musical surprises, like gifts, the more that you spend time with them, this one just seems less impressive in comparison.  That being said, there’s one line that grabs my attention with every listen:  “I’ve got wheels, I’ve got cutter spray/And a healthy sense of worth.”  Would that we were all so lucky.

California English:  Auto-tune.  When I first heard it, I was forced to wonder, “Is it ironic?”  It’s hipster music, after all.  Now that I’ve listened to this song more, I feel that it was used as another instrument, an experimentation with sound.  I’ve also realized that no matter how the auto-tune was intended, it really adds something interesting and cool to the song.  “A-Punk” was one of my favorite songs on the last album, and I think this is probably the closest song on the new album to that style.  It’s a breathless song that zooms by in a whisp.  The pairing of the strings at the end of the song with the auto-tune is strange and cool, like the classical meeting the modern.  Best verse of the song:  “Sweet carob rice cake/She don’t care how the sweets taste/Fake Philly cheese steak/But she use real toothpaste.”  It’s like a grade school tongue-twister, flowing free off of the tongue.  A skillful use of words, to be sure.

Taxi Cab:  This is one of the two most gorgeous songs on the record.  The closest comparable tune from the debut would be “I Stand Corrected,” and that’s even got a different flavor.  I think Ezra Koenig’s voice is incredibly well-suited for softer, slower tunes, and I think this is one of the songs that proves it.  The way he enunciates “aristocrat” is sort of juicy and crisp, and the whispered vibe feels very intimate.  The piano reminds me (coincidentally) of a DeVotchKa tune, “Dearly Departed.”  It’s gentle and hopeful, despite the tinge of heartache in the vocals.

Run:  The horns in this song make me want to sign up for ballroom dancing lessons.  I tried to figure out if it’s got the typical samba, rumba or cha cha rhythm, but unfortunately, I’m just not knowledgeable enough in dance to discern.  No worries, though; free-form dancing would suit this song just as well.  The breakdown at the fifth verse has a sweet “yoo-hoo” punctuation that breaks into an electronically-driven section that feels made for the club.

Cousins:  Take Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet.  Forget about the romance and focus on the animosity between the two families.  Imagine the two teams of men in some enclosed space, and the building aggravation between them.  This song immediately put me on the scene.  There’s agitation in the tune, and its energy, length and accented drums feel like a fight.  It’s interesting to me that four be-sweater’d college boys could make you wanna wear leather (faux, for the vegetarians and vegans in the audience).  Tough and gritty, discombobulating adolescence.

Giving Up The Gun:  The coupling of the bass and drum rhythm here gives it a very 80’s feel.  However, where Duran Duran might poke out a little in the verses, New Kids On the Block take their place at the chorus.  This is a playful pop tune, and once again acts as a mirror between the lyrics and music:  “You felt the coming wave” is accompanied by a punchy, gun-like guitar part.  About three minutes in, there’s a break with more layers of sound, including drum-machine claps, laser-like buzzing synth, and Koenig’s voice harmonizing with female vocals.  It adds dimension to an otherwise straightforward (but good) pop song.

Diplomat’s Son:  This song has so many incredible layers; it’s as if the band said, “You don’t like this yet?  OK, try this.”  This is a huge credit to Rostam Batmanglij, who produced the tracks.  Indeed, though this is the first time I’ve name-dropped him, Batmanglij is responsible for much of what makes this entire album great – the string arrangements, the engineering.  This is really his standout track, though, both because the production is so much of what makes it great, and also because he gets to sing lead on the bridge.  So let’s delve into it.  The M.I.A. sample is the first striking thing about the song.  Her recognizable vocal stylings energize the song out of the gate.  “To offer it to you would be cruel/When all I want to do is use, use you” is fantastic – there’s something familiar about it, as if it could be a song from Disney’s Lady and the Tramp – it’s got that Disney crooner vibe when Koenig repeats the word “use,” and is reminiscent of the Siamese cats from the film.  When we reach Batmanglij’s bridge, the music itself breaks into another Atari electronic breakdown, and Batmanglij’s voice itself is surprisingly like Antony Hegarty’s.  The bright string flourishes near the end take a page from Sigur Ros, and then disappear in and out of airy dancing.  This is a song that deserves multiple listens so you can appreciate all of its carefully placed complexities.

I Think Ur A Contra:  This is my absolute favorite track on the entire record.  As I mentioned with “Taxi Cab,” it is the kind of song that makes me hope the guys will pen more slow and quiet tunes.  Koenig’s voice seems simply made for lullabies on this song; it is gentle, disappointed, honest and a little hurt.  The deep piano notes bellow below the chorus as the guitar shimmers sporadically above.  The song evokes the open space of an ocean on a stormy day, when you are the only human on the beach with the dark clouds above, wearing a turtleneck sweater and feeling sad but alive.  Batmanglij understands this, as his bright strings breeze in with an undercurrent of darkness.  When Koenig admits, “I don’t know,” his voice reminds me so much of Thom Yorke’s that upon my first listen, I immediately perked up.  The shaker chugs us along as the song reveals itself to be a love plea, and then it ends so abruptly on a drum hit that it seems to vanish, like it wasn’t there at all.  It’s a graceful song, sensitive and soft without being weak.  An absolute standout, which leaves me unsurprised that it’s the title track (as well as forgiving about the Prince-styled spelling of the title.)

From the semi-controversial and speculation-inducing cover art to the politics and energy in the songs themselves, Contra is a conversation starter, and it should be.  The dreaded sophomore slump still exists in critics’ vocabulary, but Vampire Weekend have, unfazed, produced simultaneously experimental and accessible music just the same.  Contra is orchestrated more fully than VW’s debut, and it plays with genres in a different way; instead of writing a punk song, an indie rock song, a Peter Gabriel…the band takes all different genres and mashes them up to create something refreshingly new.  That’s also what makes this record a grower – it’s hard to immediately place the songs, so the brain might not know what to do with them at first.  Personally, more than anything, this album makes me hope that Koenig, Batmanglij, Christopher Tomson, and Chris Baio write more slow, soul-soothing stuff in the future.  You can catch the band live when they get back from Europe and tour the states, starting in March.  Full tour dates here.