"Blockbuster Night Part 1"- Run the Jewels

In my original review of El-P and Killer Mike's Run the Jewels collaboration I wrote that the rap bffs succeeded in "recasting rap threats as an art-form." While that was an accurate description of their brilliant, mechanical, stream-of-consciousness onslaught, I wish I hadn't used the phrase. Now I have nothing to say about "Blockbuster Night Part 1," the first sampling of RTJ2. What the hell looms above an "art-form?" How can you get larger than life with your chest-puffing?

If you're Killer Mike, you get there by bidding listeners "top of the morning, my fist to your face is f***ing Folgers," as sirens wail like a child who has had their favorite toy taken away. People tend to sit up like a board when you suggest that "the fellows at the top are likely rapists," as El-P does. Especially when that kind of hierarchical takedown is coupled with arrhythmic drums and broken police scanner static. This isn't some political crackpot convention though, it's a thoroughly reworked routine where RTJ "disappear in the smoke like we're f***ing magicians." "Blockbuster Night Part 1 is an orchestrated "macabre massacre." It's bold enough to tell Satan "be patient," but relaxed enough to burn through a pound of weed. As Killer Mike puts it, "it's murder, mayhem, melodic music."



Like the original Run the Jewels, RTJ2 will be available for free download and physical copies will be out October 28 through Mass Appeal. RTJ also has an Adult Swim single dropping on September 15. It's going to be a brutal couple of months.

What's New(s)?

Arcade Fire cover Blondie's "Heart of Glass"

Arcade Fire have gotten into a terrific habit recently of covering artists that are from the cities their Reflektor tour is stopped over in that night. And though they continued the cover trend last night, the artist had nothing to do with the city they were in. 

Last night while in Houston, Win Butler and company dove into Blondie's stone-cold classic "Heart of Glass". Butler's wife Régine Chassagne handled the task of replicating Deborah Harry's wispy coo, while the rest of the band continued riding the disco/funk train they've been on since Reflektor dropped back in October. While Chassagne's voice doesn't possess the same sort of beguiling calm as Harry's, it's still impactful and well worth hearing.








Killer Mike & the Alchemist appear on The Boondocks Mixtape

Given the career he's had, Atlanta's Killer Mike might just be the "ballot in your box, the bullet in the gun," that Asheru raps about in The Boondocks theme-song, so it's only appropriate he'd appear on the upcoming soundtrack for the show's fourth season.

Released in tandem with the Alchemist, "The Boonies" rides a lurching beat sifted from the apocalyptic rubble Run the Jewels left behind. Mike is as agitated as ever on the track; reflecting on time lost to warrants and wayward family members with equal derision. And though the Alchemist finds breathing room for aquatic funk guitars, they sound like they're drowning right along with Mike. If there's an "inner-glow" to be found, you have to look hard.

The Boondocks fourth season arrives April 21 on Cartoon Network's Adult Swim block (without creator Aaron McGruder) and The Boondocks Mixtape, which also features:
Smoke DZA, Lil Herb, Chevy Woods, Roscoe Dash, and more drops April 16.








Jamie xx shares the video for "Sleep Sounds"

Jamie xx's sublime "Sleep Sound" relies on a tremendous amount of silence to create tension, but nothing could be as silent or hypnotically tense as the Sofia Mattioli-directed video that's been released for the track. In the clip, Mattoli incorporates a dozen members of the Manchester Deaf Centre who range from age five to 27 to dance along to the track. And though they are unable to hear the faint hearts or the "oohing" vocal samples, they still manage to find a workable harmony with the music. Proving that there's more than just sound to how we experience a song.

Follow AllFreshSounds on Twitter for updates throughout the day.

What's New(s)?

The Dead Weather offer up a new single

Back in October, the Dead Weather announced they'd be releasing singles throughout 2014, in a run-up to a new album sometime in 2015. The first single, "Open Up (That's Enough)" backed by B-side "Rough Detective", were originally only available through Third Man Records' subscription service, but yesterday the first offering was released digitally for mass consumption. "Open Up (That's Enough)" continues to rock and shriek like a banshee, and the tough-as-nails "Rough Detective" fits right in. Mosshart and White trade-off wailing their vocals and every instrument collides together in a cacophonous "blues" explosion.

No word yet on when the next installment will be dropping, but when it does you'll be able to find it on the blog.

  

Morrissey planning a new album

Now that he's wrapped up plugging his Autobiography, Steven Patrick Morrissey can get back to doing what he does best (no not creating mini-controversies every other week), but releasing generally great music. According to Music Press, Morrissey has signed with a new label (Harvest Records) and is preparing to release a new record before 2014 ends.

 

Morrissey is set to begin recording for the LP, his first since 2009's Years of Refusal, later this month in Paris with his longtime backing band. And once recording wraps up, Moz and the band are hitting the road for a tour. Morrissey's last tour in 2013 was infamously sidelined by illnesses, so here's hoping fans will get the chance to see an illness free Morrissey in 2014 as he tours a new record. 

 

Until the album drops, enjoy Morrissey's sterling cover of the late Lou Reed's "Satellite of Love", recorded two years ago during a tour stop at the Chelsea Ballroom in Las Vegas.

 

 

Killer Mike: "Ghetto Gospel"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I haven't exactly hidden my love for Killer Mike's music on this blog. His 2013 partnering with new-found BFF El-P as Run the Jewels remains one of the most thrilling, breath-taking rap releases of the past several. But arguably the even greater product was 2012's R.A.P. Music. On R.A.P. Music, El-P manned the boards and Mike moved from discussing the importance of rap music in his life to posing "Reagan" conspiracies with the "elegance of a black elephant." 

 

One of the more tender moments on the up-to-11 album was the slithering "Ghetto Gospel", which found Mike desperately praying for help while wondering aloud if anyone is really listening. Now the sullen track has an accompanying video where Mr. Michael Render totes a Bible, attends a church-service, and wanders through some of the more downtrodden areas of his native Atlanta. The whole time he's struggling to find balance and desperately trying to get everyone on "one accord." 

 

 

  

Check back in tomorrow for more of the newest in new(s) and follow @AllFreshSounds on Twitter for updates throughout the day.

What's New(s)?

Guided by Voices feud grows

 

Any "honeymoon" the classic lineup of Guided by Voices had after their 2010 reunion is officially over, as now ex-drummer Kevin Fennell is feuding with frontman Robert Pollard. Last week after Fennell put up his drum-kit on Ebay for auction, Pollard's management responded with the following statement, "For the record, the band Guided By Voices has nothing to do with the sale of Kevin Fennell's drums. He is acting on his own and is no longer in the band."

In a correspondence between the two shared on a now removed Facebook page for the auction, Fennell maintains he quit his drumming gig for GBV; Pollard asserts he was "already fired". Pollard asserts "you have made a fool of yourself by your asking price... and most people would like to know who the f*** you think you are and who you think Guided By Voices is that you can warrant that kind of asking price for your f***ing drums." Pollard then twists the knife in further, going on to say "the so-called f***ing Classic line-up was a laugh to begin with. You're an amateur, you play too fast."

English Little League, the fourth release by the band since reuniting dropped in April of this year, and even without the feud figured to possibly be the last GBV release as Pollard hinted in July, "people at festivals don't want to hear a new album they want to hear the greatest hits." With all this current acrimony, enjoy a cut from their calmer "classic period", 1996's "Official Ironmen Rally Song".  

Cut Copy debut new track 

Tuesday on the blog, Cut Copy's new track "We Are Explorers" made an appearance and now they're back with another offering, the jaunty "Take Me Higher" whose opening wouldn't be out of place on an R.E.M. record where Stipe and company took a turn towards the dancefloor. Like "We Are Explorers", lead-singer Dan Whitford retains a quizzical tone in his voice as a pulsating beat glossing over a whistle takes hold. 

Cut Copy's fourth LP Free Your Mind drops on November 1 through Modular.

   

Run the Jewels release video for "Get It"

Run the Jewels, the collaborative effort between kindred spirits El-P and Killer Mike remains one of my favorite records of any genre in 2013 and now the duo has released a video for the apocalyptic lurch of "Get It". The visuals keep up the chest-puffing approach of the song, showing El dangling gold chains and Mike smoking a blunt intermingled with cuts of the two out on tour; bringing their own brand of hellfire to locales all over the map. As their tour draws to a close, it's the perfect summation of an incredible year. A victory lap captured on screen.
 
If you somehow have avoided the album, Run the Jewels can be purchased through Fool's Gold.  

 

2013 Pitchfork Music Festival

(Photo courtesy of Tonje Thilesen/ Pitchfork Media)














Day 1 of the trek into Chicago's Union Park began rather unceremoniously, wolfing down burgers at a suburban joint in Naperville and then hopping on the highway praying that somehow Second City traffic would be different that day (it wasn't). Parking (as it almost always is with concerts) was a nightmare, but my friend Adam and I managed to find a spot, and we were off to the festival. Our pace quickened when we heard the tender plucking of harp strings and Joanna Newsom's recognizable warble wafting through the night air. We carefully weaved through the crowd, but the work was for naught. We managed to catch the last half of "Sawdust & Diamonds," before Newsom bid the crowd adieu for the night. But there was still Björk to come down from on-high and salvage our waning expectations.

"Yeah, this is going to be weird," were the last words I managed to speak before Björk came out on stage. An extremely obvious statement on paper, but one you almost can't keep from uttering once Björk announces her presence on stage. The set itself was an adept mix of new and old, tracks like "One Day" from her Debut perched alongside the Tesla Coil spectacle of "Thunderbolt." An immediate highlight was "Jóga," the throat-shredding tale from Homogenic of a relationship heightened to a "state of emergency." Björk's powerhouse performance here especially masked every one of her 47 years. For all of the power a Björk concert conveys, Mother Nature is stronger still, and cut the set short after "Mutual Core." Without missing a beat, Björk put the weather panic into context, "It's calm.... I don't know. This wouldn't be much in Iceland, I can tell you that much..."

Day 2 was much less panic-stricken than Friday night's festivities. Parking was no longer an Arthurian quest and there was plenty of time to peruse the endless stacks of records available in the record tent. But there were still shows to see, so we jaunted over to the Blue stage to see Julia Holter in action. Holter's sound is impossible to pigeonhole; featuring the occasional sax squall, violin pluck, and tender piano figure, it's a yearning blend of: Grouper's quiet solitude, Joanna Newsom's whimsy, and any number of electronic influences. It was music better suited for midnight than high noon, but our premium spot under a shade tree was a welcome substitute.

Julia Holter

Next up was the fury of post-hardcore heroes ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead, which did not disappoint. The band's been blazing since 1998 and their midday performance letting everyone know the fire won't be dying any time soon. We then meandered over to see Savages, a melange of post-punk stylings and gothic overtones. After such raucous shows, refreshments were in order, and they came in the form of sweet heavenly nectar masked as lemonade. Sipping the last savory drops of sweet lemonade as we marched towards the red stage, only the bitterness was left clinging to my tongue for the start of Swans.

...And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead

Count the number of times you've considered the angular motions of the Breeders or the antics of ...And You'll Know Us as "peaceful melodic breaks." I'll wait. Answer?- They don't exist, unless they're acting as buffers to the aural onslaught Swans unleash. The band trots out an amp as weathered as "singer" Michael Gira's voice. A lozenge would do him some good I think during the stormy "To Be Kind," but every nicotine filled blast is a prophetic warning to be heeded. The industrious clatter of the nearby L is drowned out by the death burble of the band. The howling wind and rain give way to the laser-guided buzzsaw blasts from bassist Chris Pravdica on "Oxygen." Gira's arms flutter around the stage like an apocalyptic tornado while clarinetist/percussionist Thor Harris stabs at the drums in the manner of a musically inclined Norman Bates. In the midst of all this chaos, Gira raises his hands towards the heavens and sends his band into a further ecstatic fit; a cult-leader mixed with Carlos Kleiber if there ever was one. Phil Puleo displays a Luddite proficiency on the drums and that rampage continues throughout 2012's title cut "The Seer." Harris takes to bashing the hell out of a wood block, hoping to send it into splinters. Gira circles into an unholy trinity with the other two guitar players sacrificing everyone's ear drums in the process. Before the show began, someone in the audience yelled out "TURN IT UP!" He got his wish. 

Swans

We were fortunate enough to catch some of The Breeder's anniversary set of the still-fresh Last Splash, a welcome trip down memory lane. "Cannonball" was the entry point for so much of my current musical fascinations and to hear it razing the ground of Union Park was one of the most memorable moments of the entire festival for me. My fandom must be called into question however as we decided to push on to find the best possible spot for Solange. It was a party from the first second of the show, "Some Things Never Seem To F***ing Work" rendered joyous in a live setting. Solange effortlessly strutted and glided across the stage throughout much of the set, nostalgically urging everyone to "turn this into a high school dance." "Losing You" was prefaced by a PSA from Solange to essentially enjoy every moment of the song without any interruptions from phones or peripheral distractions. Even though it's a song I've heard countless times since its initial debut, I tend to have an adverse reaction to the subtle melancholy of the song, but that wasn't the case live. Any suggestion of a stormy was blotted out by the song's sunny groove. 

Solange

From Solange, we sought out a spot for Belle & Sebastian, sitting down and waiting for the pithy chamber popsters to announce themselves. Soon enough, Stuart Murdoch (decked out in snow-white pants) and company took to the stage, beginning with the jokey "Judy is a D*** Slap." It was steady march through the discography, stopping off at "Piazza, New York Catcher" from Dear Catastrophe Waitress and the more recent "I Can See Your Future" from 2010's Write About Love. Murdoch was affable throughout the night, labeling himself and the band "your aunties and uncles." When the rain began to fall for a second night and you could see the golden lighting shining through the droplets, the subdued "Judy and Her Dream of Horses," became transcendent. It was a moment to make anyone "smile when you're down."

Belle & Sebastian

(Photo courtesy of Pitchfork Media) 




   
           









Day 3 began with gravelly rasp of local MC, who couldn't help but grin from ear-to-ear at the prospect of being in his hometown for a show. The defining moment was "The King" as clear of a definition of Tree's self-termed soultrap genre as you're likely to find. Adam and I stayed defiantly seated at the green stage for Killer Mike, hearing only the occasional riff or joke from Foxygen over at the nearby red stage. Soon enough, the wait was over and Mr. Michael Render was raging through "Big Beast" as the crowd screamed "hardcore g-s***" right back at him. It was insightful, bracing, and at times touching, Mike tearing up before the start of one song when he spoke of a Chicago woman who inspired him to become a community organizer. "RAP Music" was the ultimate in sermonizing, as I looked around the sweat-drenched crowd, smiling faces could be found throughout. In moments like this, any facade of showmanship or posturing disappeared, and all that was left behind was one man with a microphone; tearing down the city of Chicago and then building it back up.

 Killer Mike

 























After one-two-gut-punch of Mike and El-P we sought refuge back in the shade of the blue stage, and got lost in the folk-informed punk of Waxahatchee. It was an assured set, without time for a pause or even applause, Katie Crutchfield ran through her set eying the prize of the finish line. There were clear fans in the audience, and anyone that wasn't was converted by the time the last chord cut through the thick air.

Waxahatchee

   


















We crept back out from the shadows and into the sweltering heat as Yo La Tengo began. There's a reason this band is one of the most revered in all of "indie rock" and it's their insatiable appetite for innovation and invention. They traded seats and instruments early and often, and careened through a catalog stuffed with tender dream pop and droning noise rock. Ira Kaplan so barbarically mutilated his guitar throughout their performance, it was a small miracle there was anything left by the end.

Yo La Tengo

Lil B was up next and neither Adam nor I knew what to expect, other than an extremely based performance from "The Based God" himself. As his start time of 5:15 got closer and closer, a mini-panic started inside of me. "There's nothing set up on the stage," rumbled through my mind. Focusing on that conundrum was almost impossible with the screams of "swag" and "thank you Based God" that enveloped me. "How can he do a show with nothing on stage?" That question was quickly answered when Lil B walked out on stage to perhaps the most uproarious applause of the entire festival. The crowd cooked, moshed, (two people even hopped on my shoulders) and gleamed with excitement the entire time Lil B was out on stage, reverent of his every word. Picking a highlight or even naming off all the songs that were performed is an exercise in futility, similar to sifting through his seemingly infinite music library. This was a performance for the converted; those that already bask in the glow of "The Based God."

Lil B

 

      
















My back was in disrepair after Lil B and the rumbling in my stomach became cacophonous so I headed back to the food tents for recovery. Finding lemonade an appropriate substitute for water, I swilled down two in quick succession. Being the boost I needed, I met back up with Adam and we began jockeying for position at the green stage for R. Kelly. We caught the back-half of Toro y Moi laid-back funkified set which had every toe-tapping and head nodding by the end. Chaz Bundick could hardly contain himself behind his keyboard, getting lost in his lush swirling grooves.

Toro y Moi

Now all that was left was the wait for Mr. R. Kelly. At various times my eyes were affixed on the stage, trying to imagine what we could expect. Even the Sri Lankan Christmas (Adam's own pitch-perfect description) of M.I.A.'s genre-defying set couldn't distract anyone over at the green stage from the impending performance. The crowd's mettle was tested when the earworm of "Paper Planes" slithered through Union Park, but some still managed to avoid shooting along with the song's now legendary chorus. After a run-through of "Bad Girls" all that was left was Kells and the crowd couldn't wait. 

The stage was meticulously assembled and just when the impatience became palpable, a robotic voice announced over the loudspeaker "R-Minus 9 minutes to show time." A collective scream broke out and the countdown was on. "R-Minus 4 minutes," and Sam Cooke's "A Change Gonna Come" begins. I'm lost in that eternal croon for a time, but snap back and check the time. "R-Minus 30 seconds," and the scream becomes a seismic roar. "10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1," and then "Ignition" (Remix). Kelly didn't even break a sweat during the song and moved through the iconic song like it was just another piece of ephemera. It was that kind of show. He strutted through "Hotel," reimagined "Flashing Lights" for his own purposes, had the crowd "Slow Dance"-ing, and served up "Sex in the Kitchen" while avoiding so much as a chuckle. He soundtracked himself grabbing a towel to wipe sweat off (take that South Park) and steadily scooped up the entire crowd in the palm of his hand. Kelly's silky-smooth croon became a soulful wail as the set neared the end with "When A Woman Loves." By this point, the crowd hung onto his every word, mesmerized by the unparalleled showmanship on display. One song was noticeably absent for the first hour-plus, but "I Believe I Can Fly" arrive in full-flight. The spectacle was at its apex here, Kells again backed by a gospel choir while white balloon doves shot out into the night sky. Any inclination to dismiss the song as  overly sentimental is obliterated the moment you experience it live. The perceived schmaltz is soon replaced by treatise on living life to its fullest. When someone like Kelly has this much confidence in himself, there really is "nothing to" a concert of this magnitude. 

R. Kelly

Expect updated links and photos on this page as they become available on the Festival website page. I wanted to get out an initial draft to everyone while it was still relevant.                     

 
       

In Revue- "Run The Jewels"

"This is R.A.P.," Killer Mike warned on his blazing 2012 record R.A.P. Music. But no mission statement no matter how loud or bellowing could've prepared anyone for this. On Run the Jewels, Mike and new-found bff El-P (who produced all of R.A.P. Music) don't just beat the rap game into submission; they douse it in lighter fluid, strike a match, and walk off laughing. If "protect your neck" could be bandied about as a warning statement in 2013, it should appear scrawled across the front of this record in the largest font conceivable.

If you walked into this thing expecting some lengthy treatise on police states or crumbling economies tinged with a healthy dose of introspection or introversion, you've set foot in the wrong house and should turn back immediately. If Killer Mike and El-P accomplish anything on this album, it's recasting rap threats as an art-form. Mike isn't just 80s Tyson on the lurking production of "Job WellDone," he resorts to 90s Tyson techniques and promises that "if I'm losing take a bite out." El-P makes stream-of-consciousness "s**t-talking" oddly possible in his verse, painting scenes of Yetis walking out of the woods to "cop the album," and emperors performing an about-face when they hear the duo's tunes, "admitting they are nudists."

But not every moment on the album is "real bad guy s**t," hell-bent on destruction. "No Come Down" finds Mike chowing down on a shroom or two before traveling to Ancient Egypt to make love, and checking out The Moon for good measure. The dance-floor seizure number "36 Chain" lets El-P ”spit grams at zombies," and indulge his inner Michael Flatley. The propulsive drum beat of "Banana Clipper" proves a jump-rope for the two to perform their own rap double-dutch, trading off lines and verses like Siamese cyborgs programmed to rock a microphone. When raps are delivered this tightly-wound and fully-formed, it's impossible to do anything as a fan but stand up and cheer. Big Boi’s verse (which has been unfairly described by almost everyone out there as "an afterthought) is Daddy Fat Sacks at his biggest and baldest, accusing anyone who doesn't get it of being "simply simple minded simple Simons." Much of this album plays out as a blend of Southern-fried  rap and nightmarish synths, like ATliens or Aquemini repurposed for the robot apocalypse, so what better guest to have than one half of the OutKast?

More than one outlet has drawn inevitable comparisons between this album and Kanye's eye-brow raising Yeezus, with Sobhi Youssef of Sputnikmusic hilariously bemoaning "when Kanye West decides it's f***ing brilliant to combine industrial and electronic influences with hip-hop, suddenly the music we've already been hearing since 1997's Funcrusher Plus is bukkake-worthy." But Youssef should honestly know better. Pure, unadulterated rap will never outmaneuver the type of juggernauts Kanye drops every time out now, no matter who’s behind the boards. Ye's earworms bury their way into brain, Mike and El-P's ravage every last lobe until you drop dead from an auditory overload. One isn't better than the other; you're just ensured survival when you take the path of the former.  
    
For all the larger-than-life chest-puffing and sci-fi braggadocio, the pair still manages to deliver sincerity. Mike cops to being "stuck in a time capsule, when rap was actually factual," on "Get It" letting us all know why he's so doggedly committed to hip-hop. Further buried in the song, Mike identifies him and "Jamie" as the "new Avengers, here to you all your false idols are just pretenders, they're corporation slaves indentured to all the lenders, so even if you got seven figures you're still a n***a," distilling the entire modern struggle into one barbed verse. "A F***ingChristmas Miracle" blends sleigh bells with thudding drums to produce a rap Santa Claus Conquers the Martians, but El and Mike melt the icy synths with personal narratives of pops becoming "vagrants," steel and cement twisting into "nature," and eulogize fallen friends "Pimp C & Camu Tao." Behind every jack-move, there's still a stick-up kid with a story to tell, and on Run the Jewels, El-P & Killer Mike tell the tale more vividly and with more fury than anything anyone's released all-year.  

Run The Jewels is out now on Fool’s Gold; download it for free here.

"Get It"