Where You Been?

Sorry for the sporadic posts. An inoperable iPod has severely hampered my usual listening schedule. A lagging service department has only exacerbated things. Hopefully I’ll have my little white plastic bundle of joy back by the end of the week and that could get me back to more reviews as early as Sunday. For now, here’s what’s been getting heavy rotation in the car and at home:

Smog A River Ain’t Too Much To Love

It’s no exaggeration to say this may be his best work yet. Follows the increasingly accessible path set forth by Supper. Sad country shuffles with wit, wisdom, and humor sure to be unparalleled until the new Silver Jews record drops.

The Books Lost and Safe

With this record The Books finally dumb down their abstract aesthetic enough to make a compelling pop record. The most inventive and non-clichéd use of a sampler I’ve heard from anyone outside the Bomb Squad. And the most ferocious cello I’ve heard this side of Brooklyn. This is the product of a lifetime raised on movies and television: we’re constantly scripting the scenes and screenplays for our lives as we live them. The Books do the same thing with song. Stunning.

The Thermals Fuckin’ A

This record makes me want to fight and fall in love all at the same time. Such a diverse juxtaposition stems from an overabundance of raw passion. This is the sound of an exposed nerve firing feedback for twenty-five solid minutes. Like a less stately Guided By Voices covering The Buzzcocks. Check them out here at Sub Pop and download “How We Know” and “Stare Like Yours.”

Weezer Make Believe

Really. I love it. And if you liked the green album then you should too. Somehow it’s gotten quite hip to hate on Weezer recently. Don’t believe the hype. This is an irrationally catchy batch of guitar pop that sits somewhat peerless in its perfection.

Why? Sanddollars

The Anticon member abandons hip hop almost completely and turns in a strong set of adventurous indie pop. Infectious heartfelt fun.

Stephen Malkmus Face The Truth

As sloppy as Pavement. As playful as his first solo record. Scattershot in the best possible sense. A mess of quirky pop and yawning yelps. At times almost touching but never too far from a wink or a nudge. Fantastic.