Albums of the week: New records from BBU, Frankie Rose, Sleigh Bells, Perfume Genius

The top five

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BBU bell hooks

Oh, man, is it 1992 again? Please? At last, the Chicago rap act can get past its name, Bin Laden Blowin' Up, and not just because the terrorist is dead. No, bell hooks is so proper (in the MC Hammer sense) it makes that look-at-me moniker moot. With nods to Smashing Pumpkins, Rage Against the Machine, Crucial Conflict, Twista and There's Something About Mary, you can easily suss the group is deep into the '90s. BBU zips through hip-hop's Cross Colours–clad glory era—songs bring to mind Black Sheep, the Pharcyde, The Predator. Upbeat hooks bounce over dense soundscapes of soul samples, synthesizers and funky breaks. I'm not nostalgic, I just think rap should always be this dense and composed. Epic, Illekt, Jasson Perez, and DJ Esquire are party-minded political rappers, taking shots at Wicker Park hipsters and the po-po over cinema strings and cement boom-bap. With a mixtape named in honor of a feminist author, this is triple digits in IQ points above the shizz on the radio. Even the skits are golden. Download it for free here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Frankie Rose Interstellar

And they say drummers are the numbskulls in bands. Frankie Rose formerly beat skins with Vivian Girls, Crystal Stilts and Dum Dum Girls (another act fronted by a former drummer). The Brooklynite got wise and went solo in 2010 with Frankie Rose and the Outs. She's too damn talented to stick behind Kickball Katy. Now, not only are the Outs out, but so is the entire girl-group-gone-garage shtick. In comes the glimmer, ganache and glass guitars. On Interstellar, she is harmonizing with herself in the stratosphere, floating on clear and bright keyboards. With a voice like white sunshine, she pillow-fights your mushy emotional center when she goes "Bum bah da dum dum." Of course, the drums kick hard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Perfume Genius Put Your Back N 2 It

Mike Hadreas, a.k.a. Perfume Genius, performs with a vulnerability that borders on uncomfortable. His fey voice trembles over goosepimpled tunes that seemingly emanate from a meat locker, where there is nothing but a piano and a handheld memo recorder. The doomed romantic slices open his heart with a scalpel, but bless the kid for his brazenness. Like Cat Power, he cuts to the core of himself and you with skeletal arrangements. All of it, but especially "Take Me Home," is what Michael Stipe would have done had he not met Mike and Peter and Bill. Simple and lovely.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mind Spiders Meltdown

Always keep an eye on Dirtnap Records. Once a year the Oregon label quietly releases a bratty power-pop gem. This year's model goes surfing on bulky keyboards while huffing glue fumes. Mind Spiders are the latest act from Texas garage rat Mark Ryan, also of the hyperactive and tough Marked Men. Here the hook master has gone almost new-wave. The organ drone and chunky ch-chugging acoustics of "More Than You" is the closest a punk can come to being Yo La Tengo. "Join Us Now" goes gabba gabba hey down German motorways. Well, that's just scuzzy Devo. Listen to it here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Brooklyn Rider Seven Steps

The string quartet would like to bust your brain with numerology and prickly modernism, but the centerpiece of the record is good ol' Beethoven, his String Quartet No. 14. This is a rustic, humble and American take on Op. 131; a folkiness runs through the violins that almost smells of bluegrass. Classical purists fret not, doom and pomp both surface in the closing Allegro.

 

Reissue of the week

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pulp Separations

Pulp's first phase is a dodgy catalog. The Britpop icons recorded three albums for the Fire label, long before becoming icons, fiddling with their sound for a decade to no notice. Before it got to "Razzmatazz," Pulp had to first try out folk, goth and art punk. 1992's Separations, the band's third album, is where the Jarvis Cocker genius finally starts gelling. His Sheffield sprechstimme slips into Lee Hazelwood's and Serge Gainsbourg's old suits, as the group steps into the background, like polished studio cats. Less violin screech goes a long way. Here Pulp is at its most death- and disco-obsessed. Some cuts dabble in house music. "My Legendary Girlfriend" and "Countdown" are the highlights, but for the first time you wanted to sit through the entire LP. This is proof that Britpop never suddenly appeared nor went away. It was and is always there, lurking in some northern nightclub.

Stinker of the week

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sleigh Bells Reign of Terror

Isn't Derek Miller supposed to be a metal-head? The Sleigh Bells slop-handler plays in front of a wall of Marshall amps. He shreds on one of those glossy, black, battle-ax-like guitars, the ones you see Hatebreed holding. And yet his riffs sound like they're coming out of a teeny weeny little speaker in a Hallmark Card. Where's the roar? Reign of Terror sounds like tin-canned chaos. It's Sunny D to rock & roll orange juice. The production is compressed compression laid upon laptop crunch and pumped with fructose. Breathy bird Alexis Krauss does her pom pom squad scat, urging us to "C'mon!" or "Fight!" or whatever. Then, somehow, they get it in their heads that they should be Lush, not Toni Basil. A case of Budweiser and a real studio would do this band wonders. Is Rick Rubin that busy?