BLUE SKY BLACK DEATH
A Heap of Broken Images
(Mush)
“Meticulous, yes; methodical, educated, they were these things.” So begins the first disc of Blue Sky Black Death’s double CD, A Heap of Broken Images. It’s fitting that the opening sample of this album would be from 2004’s time-travel narrative Primer.
The first disc, all instrumentals, channels the listener into quasi-futuristic atmospheres, purporting experiences first realized by Ninja Tune or !K7 in the early 21st century. This is generic, put-this-shit-on-when-trying-to-seduce-the-ladies, movie-sample-heavy background music. Not until the second half of the disc, with “From Sun’s Angle,” do any of the tracks really stand out. “Angle” starts as a mellow drum ‘n’ bass beat and quickly coalesces into a solid rhythm accented by insistent violin strains. The next song, “Rap Creature Land,” emanates a dark, echoing cadence that drops the temperature in the room by a good 10 degrees.
Sadly, the second disc lacks even those saving graces. The featured MCs recall C-list rappers of the mid- to late-’90s, when Battleaxe, Rawkus, Freestyle Fellowship, and Hieroglyphics ruled the scene. A-plus, Pep Love, and Mikah 9 appear along with a few unoriginal no-names, so much so that one can’t help making comparisons to Sage Francis or the Pedestrian, neither of whom actually contributes to the album. Even Guru’s velvety delivery isn’t enough to save his track, “Floor Chalk (Best Reprise).”
A Heap of Broken Images leaves the listener feeling that “I’ve somehow heard this all before.” Unfortunate, then, that BSBD didn’t take heed of the focal credo from Primer: “This is time travel. There is no rewind.” KEENAN BOWEN
SAY HI TO YOUR MOM
Impeccable Blahs
(Euphobia)
The world, at least for Eric Elbogen, really is a vampire. For Impeccable Blahs, his fourth release under the unwieldy Say Hi to Your Mom moniker, the Brooklyn troubadour has penned a song cycle about “people just like you and me who happen to get their nourishment from drinking blood.” Which may not be the most profound metaphor for navigating the horrors of dating, relationships, and life itself, but it doesn’t mean the album’s not a touching, catchy, and often funny indie-pop mope fest. Unlike his previous outings, which were de facto solo recordings, here Elbogen has enlisted a drummer (Chris Egan III) and keyboardist (Jeff Sheinkopf), fleshing out his songs into droning, guitar- and synth-driven ditties that should finally earn him a reputation alongside Nada Surf and Clem Snide as one of his borough’s more noteworthy indie-rock acts.
But really, it’s the quirky lyricism that most distinguishes the trio: “I’ll give you eternal life/Well, not so much eternal life, but have you ever seen a good zombie movie?/Well, like that, but you’ll be smarter and you’ll stay 23,” Elbogen promises his next victim on the buoyant, handclap-happy “Blah Blah Blah.” That warped sense of humor, coupled with his endearingly affected vocals, somehow makes sad, vampire-themed songs like “These Fangs” and “She Just Happens to Date the Prince of Darkness” seem much less dorky than they have any right to be. Fans of infectious lo-fi and offbeat rock, say hi to one of your new favorite bands. JIMMY DRAPER
Say Hi to Your Mom perform Wed July 26 at the Paradox.
THE LONG WINTERS
Putting the Days to Bed
(Barsuk)
1/2
A Long Winters album is just like Fun Dip—sweet and sour and addictive and gone too soon. John Roderick and company’s newest effort, Putting the Days to Bed, has the usual sugary sticks and a full complement of cherry, lime, and grape powders. There are songs you can’t get enough of (the album opener “Pushover,” the impossibly optimistic, yearning “Teaspoon,” the soft, lilting “Hindsight,” and the fun rocker, “(It’s a) Departure.” And right when you’re really getting into it, it’s over; the sugar rush carries you just far enough to press “repeat” on your remote and play the whole thing again.
It’s tempting at times to dismiss Roderick as just a pop songwriter with a great ear for choruses (see, for example, “The Sky Is Open” and its triumphal progression from cloud to cloud) and nifty turns of phrase (“There’s nothing left to eat in this house but your heart,” from the acerbically delicious “Rich Wife”). But what really impresses upon repeated listening are the evocative hints of stories tucked neatly inside the sing-along confections. Tunes like “Fire Island, AK” and the more rocking version of the previously released “Ultimatum” glint with shards of narrative that are left unexplained, mysterious, still broken.
In “Clouds,” a typical mid-album sugar crash, Roderick provides a gloss on the album in that desperate-but-hopeful voice of his: “We’re a kiss away from being dangerous.” And while that could be seen as a failing—everyone wants to be dangerous these days—I say there’s enough trouble in this world. Forget the danger; we’ll stick with that bittersweet, fleeting, addictive kiss. CHRIS MCCANN
The Long Winters perform Sat July 22 at Neumo’s.