I have a fairly scattered music collection that I’ve been trying over the years to condense with limited success. Several years ago, I purchased Fischerspooner’s #1 album for the lone song “Emerge,” and after playing that single repeatedly for days I somehow managed to lose the physical CD in the boxes of discs that languish under rabid hordes of dust bunnies in the furthest recesses of the bedroom.

This wouldn’t normally be a problem because I rip every CD I get so that there is a digital copy floating around for just such emergencies. Regrettably, these digital backups only exist so far as the computer’s memory, and suffices to say that when the computer takes its last wracked breath so do the digital tracks. Such was my luck…

It was my own fault – I should have made a hard drive backup somewhere, but I was young and neglected it in favor of blind faith in the Fates. A most terrible move. Never trust the Fates. They and Murphy not only appear to share the same bed, they also seem to enjoy the crunching sound they make as they trod on people’s dreams.

Digressing…

Anyway, #1 was lost not only physically but also in the emotional turmoil of trying to scavenge a computer’s corpse for identifiable data. Years passed, the world spun, more music entered my collection… Lots more. And then one day while browsing for something to listen to I literally blurted the word “Emerge!”

My coworker luckily seems to think very little of my oddities, so the incident slid by quietly (outside of my initial blurt).

End result: a full scale incursion into dust bunny heartland in a vain attempt to retrieve a fallen comrade. Unfortunately, the disk couldn’t be found. A string of expletives followed.

And then it struck me. The beater computer!

Lo and behold, crammed away in the overloaded memory of a $300 Compaq notebook sat my files. Somehow a chunk of my previous music library had made it to the intermediate system and I hadn’t even known. It’s part of the mystique of computers how things just seem to happen (and not happen).

But silicon aside, my love has been rekindled.

“Emerge” brings back all kinds of memories… First time I heard “Emerge” was via YouTube and I believe it was my first true encounter with glam artists. The song itself makes very little sense – like they do these days – so it was the beat, the conviction (I just stole that usage from Julia Child), and the artists half-cracked performance that impressed so much.

It’s electronic, and fast electronic at that, so synth haters shouldn’t even take a second glance (In fact you may just want to skip my articles altogether), but aside from the well placed outlandish sounds and occasional accenting muted instrumentals this song somehow manages to project a mental image of exactly what it’s creators envisioned. No joke – listen to the tract and imagine what kind of a video it would be, and then go to YouTube and actually watch it. This obviously isn’t the first song to do this, but I think the fact that the limited lyrics and the tone of the track alone manage to put your mind exactly where Warren Fischer and Casey Spooner intended is reason for appreciation.

This is a bit of a surgical article because the rest of the songs on the album didn’t impress me in the least. After “Emerge” I was very hopeful the album would be outstanding (the reason I had the CD special ordered) but alas, it was not meant to be.

Odyssey was a much better album overall so I’ll have to cover it later, but in the mean time go get an introduction to “Emerge” and let me know what you think.

Fischerspooner… Nom nom nom nom.

Pairing?

Red Bull and vodka. This song oozes caffeine.

What do you get when Björk, Frou Frou and Enya have an epic battle and eventually – through some as-of-yet unknown property of physics – become merged into one mutant artist?

Kate Havnevik.

Not the answer you expected? I know, I was fairly sure that Björk would manage to dominate too, but I would also be surprised if you had even heard of Kate let alone her music… Unless you watch Grey’s Anatomy religiously, at which point you would have been exposed to her track “Unlike Me” in some season or another. I don’t follow the show and as such had to educate myself on her presence the hard way.

And by “hard way”, I mean to say my girlfriend found her and enlightened me upon her return from work.

Either way, Kate creates a mirage of soothing orchestral chords garnished with well proportioned synths and topped with airy vocals (there seems to be quite a few airy vocalists in my playlist recently) on her album Melankton (apparently named after a cultural reference in her native Norway and translates to “black rose”). The style is most similar to Frou Frou – not surprising since Frou Frou’s Guy Sigsworth helped produce a few songs on this album – but with a bit of Enya’s calming presence thrown in to mellow the resulting concoction out a bit.

For all of these comparisons to what I would consider more well known artists (at least in the US), Kate is entirely her own entity. The subject matter of her songs is varied, and the manner in which she presents each song is unique and somehow classier than any of the comparisons.

I would embed a YouTube video here as an easily digestible example of her art, but Kate is somehow affiliated with Universal Music Group who can’t seem to run an internet viral campaign to save their industry…

What to take away…

Kate may be one of those artists with limited appeal to virtually everybody. I think the orchestral nature of the otherwise pop music lends a generalizing hook to her music that kind of snags everybody’s ear.

What should you expect?

I get to use the word again: orchestral. The sheer complexity of the presented music is exhilarating and a definite change from the normal guitar, bass, drums, and keyboard of standard rock sets. An injection of a mild strain of electronica adds an even more elaborate gilding to the album.

What would Kate’s music pair with?

Tattoo and pomegranate juice in stemware.

Favorite song?

“Timeless” – I’ve listened to it at least three times as much as any other song on that album. Unfortunately, it seems to be only available on the American release of this album, and there is no trace of it on last.fm so I have no sample to which I can link. My girlfriend, however, thoroughly adores “Sleepless” which does have an entry in last.fm.

As with the bulk of my discoveries, Pandora was the catalyst that led to my uncovering of Róisín Murphy some months ago. I’m not sure which station brought up the song – it has subsequently appeared on a number of the stations I’ve assembled – but “Dear Miami” was the first of Róisín’s unique tunes to cross my path and effectively snag my ear.

“Dear Miami” is a regrettably under-appreciated track on her “Overpowered” album – no music video (yet), but a few dedicated individuals made certain that it was out there in one form or another for consumption by the masses. I found a decent version on YouTube, and played it fairly regularly. The well-timed beats and soulful lyrics quickly fought for dominance in my brain and I caught myself humming the tune (as well as I could) often.

YouTube, however, was a poor approximation and I became increasingly annoyed with the poor quality.

“So why don’t you buy it?” The snarky individual (or label exec) may retort.

Funny you should ask… It’s not readily available in the United States.

At least not in any modern form.

iTunes won’t sell it to Americans, and since I already had an account with the US store it would have taken an act of Congress to set up a UK account. Not to mention the headache of buying in Pounds Sterling and the associated fees I would be assessed by my credit card carriers for not trading in my native currency. It just wasn’t a very feasible option. Amazon didn’t have MP3s available, and the bulk of the imported CDs I wound up tracking down were either no longer available or would have cost upwards of $40 to purchase… Shipping not included. Any CD over $20 (there were a couple I found for $22 or so) must be made of gold to be worth the acquisition in this day of digital files and immediate downloads.

So I stewed, and held my payment.

Several months later (i.e. last week) I randomly decided to go and see if any merchants in the US had picked Róisín up, and was delighted to find that tower.com not only had an imported version (French from what I can tell) but also had it on sale for $14 and some change! Visa came out in a technological flash and I acquired.

Well Róisín showed up a few days ago, and I really haven’t stopped listening since.

I had made my rounds before I bought the CD: I checked to see if I liked the bulk of the songs that I could freely listen to across the internet and I briefly went over the rest by whatever 30 second clips I could find. At the time I thought some of the songs were good (“Overpowered”, “Movie Star”) but I wasn’t thoroughly convinced about the rest of the album. “Dear Miami,” however, was a prize just about worth all $14 in my mind so I went for it.

Great maker, did I wind up being lucky. There is a bunch of hype surrounding Róisín on the internet (from those lucky Europeans and few others with access to her), but it’s clearly hard to tell who just likes her as a cult follower and who likes her for her contribution to the art. Well, I was either rapidly brainwashed into the cult or her artistry overwhelmed in short order.

I like to think the latter.

In all fairness though, my girlfriend found very little special about the album calling it “repetitive” but something that she could see listening to as background sound. Our tastes do differ a bit so definitely check the music videos for a few of her songs before dismissing the album.

What to take away…

Róisín Murphy is in the broad spectrum between pure electronica and experimental pop, but I think it’s her vocal prowess that sets her apart. Her voice is velvety especially when she hits some of her lower notes… It’s intoxicating if you can sit though the admittedly cyclical music and heavy synth use.

What should you expect?

Uniquely deep and firm vocals – especially for an electronica infused album. Good dancing beats, and a general sense of being uplifted although a few songs buck that trend. Also, as you will find if you watch a music video or two, Róisín is a classic glam musician – her costumes are half the reason the videos are so interesting.

What would she pair with?

“Overpowered” is a hard album to pair with a single beverage because it’s a bit broad in its tone, but in a pinch I would go with a crème liquor on the rocks and right now I’m leaning towards Baileys.

Favorite song?

“You Know Me Better” is a tremendous piece that I don’t recall listening to before receiving the album. Definitely worth a few plays.

Karen from New Jersey writes us this week to say:

“I have three-quarters of a bottle of Blackberry Brandy. What would be the best band to pair with this drink?”

Well Karen, my esteemed co-conspirator and I have discussed heatedly and thoroughly, and have come to a decision.

If you had a whole bottle, this would be a different matter entirely, but three-quarters of a bottle screams Goldfrapp. Specifically the “Supernature” album.

Brandy is distilled wine boiled down closer to it’s essence, and in doing so it changes the structure of the drink. Flavors shift, the composition changes, and suddenly what was meant to help lessen tariffs becomes a proper beverage in it’s own right.

Brandy then became a classic of it’s own. Brandy even stopped the communists. Well, at least until St. Petersburg’s stashes were consumed and the hangovers subsided.

Now take this classic and toss in some blackberries and sugar. Suddenly a classic shifts. Sugar adds that sweet taste, and the blackberries add that tang. The stuff will pull you right in, there’s no resisting it’s sweet seduction.

The thought of stuffy old men in front of fireplaces completely disappears. Images of young people enjoying themselves come to mind.

Segue, Goldfrapp.

Goldfrapp’s Supernature is an electronic album with whispy breathy vocals and heavy synthesizer action. Every song on this album is danceable. Playing it sitting down seems to be an exercise in futility; within 2.5 minutes I find myself out of my chair.

I would say their style can be traced back to the days of Disco. Disco heaped with generous amounts of Electronica and Rock. They don’t stop there, building upon it, adding a hint of this, a waft of that. They make it that extra delicious.

At times I almost feel as if they are toying with me as a cat toys with a mouse. They know I cannot resist that beat, and they know that when they randomly come up in my shuffle mode I’ll be doing a poor imitation of the Robot within seconds.

Their music is extremely palatable; nothing on this album is abrasive or sharp. It’s pure seduction. It makes my head feel all fuzzy and full of happiness. It seems perfect for an outside dance party on a cool fall evening.

Seriously. That beat would even stop a rioting communist in their tracks.

What to take away?

Both Goldfrapp and Blackberry Brandy are unique twists on a classic. They both seem well suited for early twenty-somethings with a slightly off-beat but well defined sense of style.

They both can temporarily detain communists.

What to expect?

Funky beats, seductive vocals, and cool delicious blackberry brandy.

What song matches best?

“Ooh La La“. She may need Ooh La La, I need more brandy.

What drink to mix it with? (if straight up isn’t your bag).

Cola.

One part blackberry brandy to two parts cola. Dub it the Blackbird and you’re done. It is supposed to taste a tidge like Cherry Cola. On a side note, the album preceding Supernature is “Black Cherry“. Coincidence? I think not!

When last I mentioned The Sleeps, it was mostly to air my dissatisfaction with their attempted flair for fashion. No longer. I must atone for my musical closemindedness. Swoopy hair and high-heeled blacklight reactive boots do not automatically cancel out good music. Now it is time for my penance. Many Hail Mary’s, and maybe a bloody one or two.

The free demo handed out at the show was burnt onto a cheap Magnavox CD. Their name was sharpied on it. The track listing page and the folded case for the demo were printed on the Milwaukee Department on Aging directory pages. I was amused. I smirked.

That smirk was wiped right off my face when I popped in the CD. They’re good. They aren’t ‘good’ for the youngin’s they are. They’re actually good, legitimately good, good enough I would buy their CD without thinking or looking back, and cherish it forever good. Yeah.

I don’t know why I didn’t appreciate them more at the Grog Shop. Perhaps it was the mixing – the Grog Shop has legendarily bad mixing. Perhaps it was the acoustics or lack thereof. Perhaps I’m just dense. Regardless, I’m really happy about those free Demos.

I saw The Sleeps play a little over a week ago. According to last.fm I have listened to their album 16 times. That’s 128 plays.

Their music is that of electro-rock. There are hints of pop, minimal though they may be. Perhaps minimalist pop would apply here. While there are some bands were the Rock element lies heavier than the Electro element (such as IMA Robot) The Sleeps are definitely the inverse. Their electo-ness doesn’t get out of hand, though. It’s kept nice and tight, if not hard, and is even danceable if you have some idea of how to dance in a way that doesn’t involve flailing.

I don’t.

The vocals are rather subdued. perhaps that is the real reason I didn’t find them engaging in concert. I am a bit of a trollop for distinctive vocals. The singing here isn’t particularly energetic. The range not extremely wide. The vocals seem to lie on the same plane as the music. Most incarnations of rock music have a space between the music and the singing, with the vocals taking precedence. A lot of electronic music inverts that, placing a huge emphasis on the music, at the expense of the vocals. Here they seem to balance the two perfectly, each highlighting the other.

The Sleeps have a great thing going. It’s truly fabulous. Some of their songs are so electronically funky I find myself slinking around the apartment, others leave me air drumming, and they all have me singing along.

What to take away…

The Sleeps are a fantastic electro-rock band. Forget their regional status, forget their age, forget their lack of a label. All of those things will change. Their music is up for free at ReverbNation. You ought to go download it right now.

What should you expect?

Awesome.

What drink to pair with it?

A Pilsner Urqell. Tasty, easy, with just a little more Hops than one would expect.

Favorite Song?

As usual, there is a tie.

“Disposition” is really funky, and reminds a tidge of MGMT. The vocals are as diverse as they get on the album, and that beat is just great.

On the flip side is “Over”. “Over” is an Instrumental. I really generally don’t like Instrumentals. Until this point that was a universal rule. “Over” is just so damn good… They handle their instuments perfectly for the song, and any lack of personality in the song I would normally complain about is completely moot here. They really are able to lend personality to the song just through the use of their instuments. That gets them a gold star.

Somewhere between sleep and wakefulness there exists a universe of solid beats and breathy lyrics that seductively pulls you toward a deep and encompassing netherworld. No matter how hard you try you can never seem to quite reach that soothing, entrancing place, but there is hope my friends.

Phantogram.

Yes, Phantogram – fronted by the talented Josh Carter and Sarah Barthel, this wonder of electronica manages to capture and channel the sounds that linger on the fringes of consciousness and bring them to you on a shiny EP (available from their MySpace page) that you can keep forever and ever.

This is unabashedly a lot of gushing – and frankly, I apologize, but after listening to song after lackluster song one becomes a little underwhelmed with the vastness and generality of the music realm. Phantogram brings emotion to the table, and that is what lends them their power. Whether intended or not, each song in their (regrettably) small portfolio of five runs thick with hooks that tease thoughts and caress the whimsical side of the mind causing the brain to meander on creative rabbit trails into, over and around Wonderland.

Your individual experience may vary.

Sarah’s airy vocals, redolent of an alpine breeze (if I do say so myself), compliment Josh’s peculiar, almost island-quality singing making it seem more concrete than it otherwise would. Throw those into a jungle of soul-soothing bass accented by perfectly manicured boppy synths and you have the recipe for what is rapidly becoming one of my favorite albums of the year… And it’s only an EP!

Interestingly enough, each song has a different feel even though I believe the album uniformly broadcasts the same emotion.

(Note: Some of these songs may be listened to from the band’s MySpace page, but since the band doesn’t have any recordings up on last.fm (as of this writing) I haven’t even bothered to link them to that service yet.)

“Mouthful of Diamonds” is awash with perfectly executed pop overtones that Sarah highlights with a near-ballad in her customary ethereal tones. The random tweaking of the synths adds character and background to what could otherwise have been a relatively predictable song.

“Running from the Cops” relies heavily on its vocoder usage and powerful pulsing beat to bring about a feeling of darkness just as Sarah releases a surreal croon that transforms the scene into something truly otherworldly.

“When I’m Small” starts with a simple drum throbbing that breaks away into bass-heavy chords and Sarah’s slightly-more-palpable-than-usual lyrics before again letting out into a generic tonal pulse for a bit of the chorus. The well-executed simplicity of this song provides it an edge where so many others have failed.

And I still have two more songs to fawn over.

“Bloody Palms” is a slightly edgier more urban sound than the previous three songs, and it’s unique transitions between Las Angeles metro-station and Miami suburb I find particularly appealing. It also starts showing off the Caribbean twangs of Josh’s vocals.

“Voices” is such a great way to end the album. It brings you back to the comforting feel of “Mouthful of Diamonds” but lacks the topical sadness of the opener, and it further showcases Josh’s Caribbean intonation in a lyrical laminate with Sarah. The tame – generally calm nature of the music in this song is also a nice way to wind down before moving away and on to… different things.

What to take away…

Phantogram is a welcome addition to electronica bringing with it a variety of feels and sensations that help the listener travel just a little further into their imaginations. I heartily suggest putting on headphones, closing your eyes and letting your mind just wander with the music for 20 minutes.

Oh, and the $7.50 for the EP is well worth the cost. The PayPal checkout is a little sketchy, but I have ordered and my CD arrived a few days later so it is a legit enterprise. Why they aren’t yet available on iTunes is anybody’s guess…

What should you expect?

Sophisticated, living, breathing electronica. The mix of organic instrumentation and vocals with synth support is refreshing and quite satisfying… If not obsessively addicting.

What drink to pair with it?

It would be unfortunate, I think, to start this album off with anything but a slightly young pinot noir.

Favorite song?

I am head over heels in love with the way “Mouthful of Diamonds” was assembled and presented. Simply outstanding.

I pondered for a while on what my first few posts should be about… The state of the music industry? No, too depressing (and generally controversial). A top ten rundown? No, too broad, and besides, MTV and VH1 have had years of those. Eventually, I turned to my trusty iPod, and started browsing. Cha-ching: paydirt – my favorite frother, Kevin Barnes, would make a marvelous entry to the commentary of Sound & Tonic!

Now let me first define “frother” because, well… It isn’t a real word, but you’ll see it here fairly often. I first stumbed across the term in a BBC News article, and while the context was less than memorable the concept I found to be most appealing. Here in the States we throw such terms as “crazy” or “insane” around a lot, but have very few words to explain the various states of craziness (“fucking nuts” and “batshit insane” notwithstanding). “Frother” made an impression because its usage drew up the perfect mental image of a truly unstable person who through general harmlessness managed to also become endearing.

A definition that could not fit anybody better than Kevin Barnes, the very productive delusion behind Of Montreal.

How did I uncover this marvelous oddity, you may ask?

As has historically been the case, it was not I, but Leslie who tracked down the band and passed the information along. “Heimdalsgate Like a Promethean Curse” read the song name. “Curious” I said to myself as the song started playing on the mix CD (including such names as Carbon Leaf and The Faint). How she found the song, I never bothered asking, but the product of the discovery involved sitting in my dark basement apartment staring into the computer monitor while Kevin proceeded to snipe off my synapses. The resulting numb feeling that spread down my body from the damaged part of my cerebral cortex was relaxing, but didn’t exactly help to disseminate the paradox I had just heard.

Thank the maker Les didn’t produce the entire Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer? album at that time because it would have assuredly ended in a quick coma.

I believe it was some dark wave electronica that nudged me back towards consciousness, but due to some undefined allure I proceeded to listen to “Heimdalsgate Like a Promethean Curse” four or five more times. Each play brought with it an ounce of immunity and a deep desire to hear more.

Within a few days I had acquired the album, and after the first play-through I was hooked.

Of Montreal is foremost what I would call experimental pop. The songs are a mélange of luring bass, chirping synths and erratic vocals – the lyrics are often nonsensical and where they are comprehensible stray towards the dark and implicative. The overall mood of the album is as close akin to a hallucinatory breakdown as I can imagine, and yet it isn’t an ongoing depression. The tunes are friendly if not catchy (one can’t exactly hum an Of Montreal tune very well), and the overarching feeling is one of disassociation with a painful past while embracing the giddy aftermath.

You know – that point in time where your brain starts drowning you in endorphins to help stave off some of the psychological trauma you’ve just suffered.

What to take away…

Of Montreal is something you have to listen to in order to even begin to understand. Words simply fail at describing the sound (and scene) because so much of it is purely emotional. You must like electronic fused pop, and an appreciation for glam musicians wouldn’t hurt. I saw Kevin in concert in Cleveland, and the crowd was a broadly eclectic mix so almost anybody could conceivably find some manner of appreciation for what he has to offer…

What should you expect?

Think bizarre – that’s what makes him the epitome of frother. If he was channeling an ADHD eight-year-old he couldn’t be more random, and it’s his randomness and raw emotions that give Kevin and the rest of Of Montreal their unique and endearing quality.

What drink would he pair with?

No question it would be old fashioned Absinthe with perhaps twice the sugar. Combine with a surrealist art exhibit and you’re nearly there.

Favorite song?

Suffer for Fashion. Despite the creepy-ass child noise at the beginning, this song sums up the style and sets the tone for the rest of the album.