Irish electronica duo Solar Bears’ debut album, She Was Colored In is a genuine love letter to the masters of electronica that have come before it. Like many of its predecessors it is lush and icy, stressing a contrast between cold and warm, technology and nature. As far as it goes it can be considered a relative success. However, it falls short of being noteworthy when compared to its peers due to the fact that it is so admiring, but not necessarily fully understanding. Solar Bears are still in the learning process, mimicking the masters. That’s fine, and is to be expected, but as it stands now, their debut album doesn’t leave much of a mark.

She Was Colored In suffers from an overly sparse, sometimes jagged landscape, sounding like an awkward blend of Air, M83 and Black Moth Super Rainbow. I have no problem with minimal electronic music by any means, but Solar Bears fall short because they fail to make the genre their own. They lack both the confidence and the innovation that is essential in a genre where every note counts. With neither youthful daring or experienced proficiency driving their sound, the album washes over uneventfully. For those ready for yet another album full of sun-drenched synths and arpeggiating icicle melodies, it’s hard to imagine that Solar Bears won’t satisfy, but that’s only because they’re staying true to a well exercised formula.

I can’t say that Solar Bears make no effort to separate themselves. In a genre more likely to rely on dubstep, techno or glitch based beats, Solar Bears tend to flirt more with the rock side of things; they even feature occasionally distinctive lead guitar work. Thankfully, they typically don’t engage in the bombast of rock (with a few stagnant exceptions such as “Dolls”), choosing instead to respect the established restrained appeal of the vein of electronic music established by Aphex Twin and upheld today by modern electronic artists such as Pantha du Prince and Actress. The result is a respectable homage to the genre. This could be a negative or a positive depending on how you see things; if you’re happy to the tread the waters, then by all means give Solar Bears a try, but if you’d prefer to follow the current then there are certainly more impacting artists to invest in, in terms of both influence on the genre and the music itself.

I wanted to like this album a lot more than it paid off in the end. It sounds pleasant; too pleasant in fact, and all too familiar, causing it to feel worn out before you have had the chance to overplay it. The album unfortunately suffers from sounding like an inconsequential ripple on the far edge of a great splash. Solar Bears might have been able to stand next to the artists who caused he splash had they existed at the right time. I feel wrong saying that; after all, shouldn’t we judge the music alone for what it’s worth, regardless of the context of the times? Ideally yes, but Solar Bears sound too much like an afterthought, albeit a happy afterthought, to ignore the superiority and timeliness of their mentors.

Final Score: 66/100



Menomena don’t exactly defy genre, but they draw influence from such a wide pool that it’s hard to compare them to any certain acts. They’re a rock band of course, but when you dash in all the little extra details and instruments, it becomes more and more difficult to pin down. This is true of Mines more than any past Menomena album, and as a result it’s their most satisfying and, I would expect, most enduring album yet.



The first thing that strikes me about Mines is the level of detail. Menomena have always been fine craftsman, but they take it to a new level here. As remarkable as the amount of detail is the quality of the production; I don’t know know that I’ve ever heard an album featuring so many layers of sounds without ever letting them smudge into each other. If you aren’t already sporting high-end headphones, this is the sort of album that will make you itch for a pair. It’s impossible to take in all the details with only a few listens, and the songwriting is the most challenging that Brent has offered yet. It’s not a difficult album to enjoy, but it undoubtedly has the highest payoff of any Menomena album thus far.



One negative result of the less accessible songwriting and deluge of details is that this album doesn’t deliver some of the straightforward hooks that the previous album, Friend and Foe, offered. There’s no “Wet and Rusting” here, nor are there any tracks to match the vicious “The Pelican.” This a little bit of a turn-off at first, and even though it’s pretty easy to get over this issue, it still would have been nice to have a couple songs that more emphatically establish themselves as single material. Also, despite the enormous level of activity on the album, there are a few brief areas, such as on the appropriately named “Sleeping Beauty,” that won’t vie for your attention if you’re not already offering it.



However, there is no need to worry that Mines is merely attempting to disguise hook inadequacy with studio tricks; this album has it’s own set of teeth. You probably won’t remember the vocal lines to “BOTE” at first, but the badass slide guitar and punctuated brass (which is way too easy to sing “ME-NO-ME-NA!” to) will echo in your brain long after the track has ended, and after the instrumental bombast has drawn you back for several more listens, the vocals begin to worm their way into the mix. Before you know it, you end up with a highly addictive track that is engaging on several levels. Menomena use this strategy throughout the album. You’ll probably repeat “TAOS” to sing along about not being the most cock-sure guy, but a barrage of big band layers will soon shift your attention, remaking it hard to choose whether to sing along or take it all in.



The music is never goofy, but it’s easy to tell that the band mates have a sense of humor and a willingness to indulge in quirks. Thankfully, they also have the intelligence to do so in ways that support the follow of the album and keep the listener fully engaged rather than for indulgence’s sake. The aforementioned “TAOS” and “BOTE” offer the highlights as far as volume goes, but there are plenty of well placed mood shifts. “Lunchmeat” and “Dirty Cartoons” share some of the minimal, post-punk tendencies of Friend and Foe, while “Oh Pretty Boy, You’re Such a Big Boy” and “INTIL” offer potent moments of tension, build-up and release that avoid the common pitfall of feeling inorganic and forced into being epic. “Five Little Rooms” touches back to a borderline ska element of Menomena’s past that is a bit more subdued for the most part on Mines.



Mines does a very admirable job of advancing Menomena’s sound to new territories both in terms of mood and technical proficiency without, for the most part, forgetting what made past albums endearing to so many. If I Am the Fun Blame Monster and Friend and Foe left room for questions, Mines should alleviate any doubt; this trio has managed to create and master a sound that is truly their own, and for that they undoubtedly deserve a new level of success.

Score: 8.8/10

Highlights: “TAOS”, “BOTE”, “Oh Pretty Boy, You’re Such a Big Boy”, “INTIL”

Long time emotive devotees Stars are back with their follow-up to the consistently satisfying, if a bit too vapid, In Our Bedroom After the War. Although Bedroom wasn’t their most critically acclaimed effort, it found Stars in a pleasant groove that offered up several moments of gratifying potency, and in light of the more recent and excellent Sad Robots EP, Stars fans had reason to keep their hopes up for their fifth LP, The Five Ghosts.

Whether said fans are happy with The Five Ghosts will depend largely upon how committed they are to Stars’ creamy, soft-as-silk sound; as it turns out, a healthy dose of commitment will be required. In an age when synths are beginning to replace (if they haven’t already replaced) the guitar as the pop/rock building block instrument of choice, Stars’ increasing reliance on synths makes their already derivative brand of silky pop sound even less gripping. That is absolutely not to say that Stars cannot make a brilliant synth based song; for that you need look no further than Sad Robot EP’s “Going Going Gone [Live].” Unfortunately, inspired moments run far too sparse on The Five Ghosts, which stakes its life on fans being hungry for more of the same. To make matters worse, lead singers Amy Millan and Torque Campbell, who usually play off each other quite well, seem all too aware in their deliveries that this album is going through the motions.

There is a saving grace to be found in the fact that Stars make good filler, and none of these songs are particularly weak or out of place. Even the off-kilter “We Don’t Want Your Body” justifies itself with a peppy chorus featuring lines about cheap ecstasy and boughten sex. The album does feature its share of highlights, most clearly the soapy “Changes.” “Wasted Daylight” and “Fixed” are accessible picker-uppers that could’ve held their head high on any Stars album. Stars shyly poke at a few new ideas in the latter half of the album, and although none of them really take off, they’re engaging enough to save the album from becoming too sleepy. For the most part you have to be in this for the sound of the songs mores than the songs themselves, but I’d be remiss to give the impression that the album lacks any redeeming qualities.

The Five Ghosts is by no means a bad album. In fact, in the grand scheme of things its probably above average, with several songs that make it worth revisiting. However, when a band such as Stars offers plenty of moments of promise throughout their career but fails to bring it together in a complete statement, it’s hard not to feel underwhelmed. If you haven’t tried Stars yet, The Five Ghosts will give you a perfectly adequate sampling of what they’re all about, but long time fans know that Stars are capable of much more than “adequate.”

Final Score: 6.8/10

Highlights: “Wasted Daylight”, “Fixed”, “Changes”

From the very get go, Brothers is all about the swagger and the strut.  It’s also about grime, kicking ass and letting your junk swing free.  You could practically reach out and knock the dirt right off of it, but of course you won’t want to; this is a sty you’ll want to roll around in like the swine, celebrate it like a child.  Make no mistake, The Black Keys are a grown up band who make grown up music, but they’ve made a record that’s mature enough to take a step back and rediscover what made the blues-rock genre so engaging in the first place.  It’s the brazen youthfulness without the naivete.  It’s a complete ownership that is wisely taken for granted.  It’s good, soft mud.

Don’t be fooled for a moment into thinking this is a boyish record; it’s got a nasty sex appeal, fueled in part by Dan Auerbach’s increased appreciation for R&B infused blues.  The unexpected falsetto on opener “Everlasting Light”, the immediately classic melodies of “Next Girl”, the rambunctious and infectious “Howlin’ for You”, indeed the general level of well rationed polish and funk; all contribute to a record that has universal appeal while staying admirably true to its roots.  The law is laid down from the outset.  There is a clear purpose to this album and it follows through with all the reckless authority of Electric Warrior meets Electric Mudd, but with a fresh level of conciseness that The Black Keys have always handled so well.

That said, the album is longer than one might expect from the sound of the opening tracks, and it’s easy to think that this album would benefit from trimming a track or two.  Individually judged however, it’s hard to bear the thought of just about any of these tracks not making the cut.  The slow numbers, “The Only One” and “Never Gonna Give You Up” are both stellar in their own rights and fit snugly into the flow of the almost flawlessly paced album.  Not every song is particularly eventful, take “The Go-Getter” or “I’m Not the One” for instance, but even those bear endearing marks on an album full of tracks that don’t need each other but sound great together.  Each track is a unique, finely crafted gear that works to move the entire unit forward.  Yes, the machine is a bit rickety.  Not every song is perfect.  But so many of them feel like they might be, and they operate with such unity that griping feels contrived.  Brothers is part punishment and part celebration; critique doesn’t fit into the equation.  Brothers is an album that’s easy to enjoy in the midst of its possible shortcomings.

The bottom line is, this is an extremely intelligent record that isn’t spoiled by self-awareness; it’s genuine without being niche.  Is it accidentally great?  Maybe.  The Black Keys don’t give a fuck.  You can’t ask for much more than that.

Final Score: 9.2/10

Highlights: Next Girl,  She’s Long Gone, Ten Cent Pistol,  Sinister Kid

Blue Color of the Sky provides a look at a band in transition. It’s not always pretty, it’s often ill-advised, but at the same time it’s often promising and enjoyable for what it is. OK Go take a break from the traditional pop/rock setup and lean more heavily on 80s inspired synths, sometimes successfully, but moreso to the point that it becomes a crutch, dampening what should be a primarily high-voltage affair. The occasional dose of The Killers or Menomena gives it a kick that helps album highlights such as opener “WTF?” and “White Knuckles” deliver an unforgettable punch, but too often OK Go settles back into a too-easy-to-swallow systematic approach that will inevitably cause listeners to wonder why they’re listening to a washed out version of Prince. This is particularly true of a 3 song stretch (with the exception of “White Knuckles”) in the middle of the album that is capped off by “Last Leaf”, an acoustic ballad of cringe-indicing predictability that brings the album to a slow halt. “Back From Kathmandu” brings a sigh of relief in the form of a more energetic composition, while the last two tracks bring the album to a fairly uneventful but satisfying end.

With these negatives pointed out, it cannot be overlooked that when OK Go hits the balance between the various and obvious influences they’ve taken in since Oh No, they do so with poise. Lead single “WTF?” features a savory, slippery-as-soap Prince inspired melody with bursts of instrumental flourishes that capture the attention and will put smiles on plenty of faces. Anthems are not lacking, and songs such as “This too Shall Pass” and “Needing/Getting” are sure to provide the soundtrack for many-a-teen’s drive to school. “Skyscrapers” is a highly successful low tempo track, demonstrating perfectly how to slow things down on an album where things are not supposed to slow down. Despite the fact that there’s plenty on the album to question, there’s also undoubtedly plenty here to embrace for the pop perfection it aspires to be.

Of the Blue Color of the Sky is an admirable attempt to bridge the gap between mainstream anthems and indie-approved textures. Does it work? Yes, in the sense that it gets the job done. It more or less limps it way through the 13 tracks, occasionally looking up to grin at those who are gathered around to cheer it on, and even dares to flex its melodic muscle from time to time. However, for the remainder of it’s hobbled walk it focuses on the well-trodden ground directly before it, afraid to take any true risk or abandon it’s methodical step by step approach. It’s a bit like watching a young child begin to grow more confident in taking steps; it’s certainly nothing to aspire towards, but it’s pleasing and exciting to see. Sure, Blue Color of the Sky might not be particularly special, it might be unable to poke its head out from the shadows of its big brothers, but with an attempt this honest and promising it almost feels wrong to criticize.

Final Score – 7.2/10

Highlights: WTF, White Knuckles, Needing/Getting, Skyscrapers

The Twilight Sad, two years off of their critically acclaimed Fourteen Autumns & Fifteen Winters, are back to brood once again.  Those who felt that this year’s excellent sophomore album by The Antlers was a bit too wimpy, or at least too willing to linger, will likely find a friend in The Twilight Sad’s own sophomore effort,  Forget the Night Ahead.  Whether it be the dark, lurking lyrics, the sometimes too-easy-to-digest waves of guitar distortion, or just Graham’s Scottish accent, Forget the Night Ahead brings all the right elements into play, even if it doesn’t always capitalize on the potential that the band clearly carries.

The Twilight Sad have abandoned some of the finer instrumental nuances of Fourteen Autumns for a more distortion heavy, My Bloody Valentine-light sound. The new sound is utilized with mixed results.  For the times that lead singer James Graham brings the melodic hooks, it works brilliantly.  The dirty guitar textures compliment Graham’s skillfully and emotionally delivered lyrics of ambiguity, and sometimes overpower them, a device which is generally used with tact, heightening the reach of a band which was already successful in developing mood.  Tracks such as “The Neighbors Can’t Breathe” and “I Became A Prostitute” are just as apt to rock your face off as they are to pull your hair over your eyes, which is exactly what many fans were hoping for.

On the other hand, the new sound offers some unfortunate disadvantages as well; namely, the fact that this album is consistent to a fault.  While there are undoubtedly moments of dirty transcendence scattered about, a step back will reveal the album to be a bit of a muddy mess; nearly all variety and nuance from Fourteen Autumns is lost.  That’s not too say Fourteen Autumns was particularly exploratory, but it would have been nice to see The Twilight Sad develop in that direction.  The textures dominate this album, resulting in several stretches of indistinguishable sound.  Thankfully, it’s not bad sound, but it’s indistinguishable and forgettabe sound.  These stretches are usually characterized by nominal songwriting on Graham’s part; like the music, the melodies aren’t bad, but too often they have no teeth.  You won’t finish “Seven Years of Letters” or “Scissors” particularly offended, but you won’t really remember much about them either.  Repeated listening, as with many albums worth hearing, will reveal hooks that you hadn’t expected, but too often these potent moments just aren’t worth the effort it takes to uncover them.  It’s these Mogwai inspired guitar washes and periods of arbitrary songwriting that are the album’s only definable weakness, but when Graham is able to ride these waves rather than drown under them, such as on album peak, “That Birthday Present”, The Twilight Sad truly show promise.

All things considered, Forget the Night Ahead is a successful avoidance of a sophomore slump.  It’s a step forward for the band that will satisfy the majority of fans and critics alike, and will probably win a few new fans along the way.  Unfortunately, there’s too much, or perhaps not enough, that holds this album back from becoming a great.  While one has to appreciate that The Twilight Sad is moving forward with their sound, it’s also impossible to not be a little disappointed that there’s far less risk-taking within the album itself.  Nevertheless, the album represents a promising step in what will hopefully be a long and fruitful career for The Twilight Sad.

Final Score: 7.8/10

Highlights: “That Room”, “That Birthday Present”, “The Neighbor’s Can’t Breathe”

Muse, at it is already well documented, make superhero music.  Regardless of how seriously singer Matt Bellamy may take the conspiracy theory claims he’s now been making through Muse’s music since their 1999 dubut, Showbiz, Muse are not setting out for credibility, or to lay out any sort of plan to overthrow the wold leaders who are most assuredly plotting against us to… lead the world, or something.  Most of Muse’s audience doesn’t really know what Bellamy’s singing about, nor do they care; Muse knows how to get fists pumping, and to most, that’s all that really counts.

For this reason, it will be easy for many to forgive the undeniable cheesiness of The Resistance.  Accusations of Radiohead mimicry are now out the window; this time around, Muse have chosen to wear the likes of Queen on their sleeves, as is made almost painfully evident on “United States of Eurasia” (“Soon we will see that there can be only one United States of Eura… SIA!!”). To Muse’s credit, they’ve managed to inject enough unexpected influences here and there to keep listeners guessing.  “Undisclosed Desires” will immediately recall the sounds of Depeche Mode, while the piano based “I Belong To You” sounds as if a radioactive meteorite had taken out the Maroon 5 tour bus.

However, despite the unapologetic intentions of The Resistance, it’s difficult to shake the feeling that all the hype suggesting this would be the most overblown outing of Muse’s career was a bit misplaced.  For example, the roaring, ripping riffs which were so plentiful back on Origin of Symmetry and Absolution are now all but absent.  The first three tracks exist primarily to hook any new fans who may have first been lured by Black Holes and Revelations‘ two pop hits, “Starlight” and “Supermassive Black Hole”.  “Guiding Light” and “MK Ultra” can only be described as over the top, but they lack the dynamic diversity it would have taken to truly launch them off the moon.  There’s “Unnatural Selection”, but it borrows too heavily from Origin‘s “New Born”.  “United States of Eurasia” with it’s sweeping, Middle Eastern strings, and “I Belong to You” are really the only things here that outdo say, Mew, or any other like-minded space rock outfit in terms of bombastic scale.  It’s not often I ask this of a group, but Muse, next time could we have a little more… wankery?

On the album closing 3 song suite, Muse forfeit themselves completely to Bellamy’s whim, resulting in a trio of 4 minute orchestral songs that, of all things, seems pensive.  They go down tastily enough, but lack any kind of teeth; they sound good in the background, but background music is about as far as they go.  They never approach the heights of Muse’s guitar driven epics, and seem more concerned with sounding like good songs than actually being good songs.  One of the problems is length; with one minute meandering intros and outros to each piece, it doesn’t leave enough time for the song.  Given a little more breathing room, more devotion and risk taking from Bellamy in  both the song writing and structure departments, they might might have been career highlights rather than album highlights.  But Bellamy’s motive is certainly promising, and given that despite their shortcomings these last 3 songs are by far the highlight of the album, one can’t help but hope Muse will continue to explore classical writing and orchestral arrangements, only next time develop these elements into something that sounds less like Muse toying around and more like Muse taking over.  They’ve already been accused of ripping off Radiohead and Queen (albeit steroid injected rip offs).  Why stop now; it might be time to add Tchaikovsky to their list of blatantly obvious inspirations.

Despite this complaint, plenty of props must still be handed out.  The production, as expected, is flawless and beautiful; the album demands to be played at the highest volume bearable.  Matt’s songwriting remains consistent, although that will be could be considered apro or a con depending on who you ask.  And of course, the prospect of a new tour is absolutely mouth-watering.  Chalk it up to Muse, or to the lack of competition in a musical period dominated by auto tune, but either way they are undoubtedly one of the premier rock bands in the world, and they leave no room to argue otherwise with The Resistance.

Final Score: 8.2/10

Highlights: United States of Eurasia, I Belong to You, Exogenesis: Symphony Pt. 3: Redemption

Every so often you come across a band about which every aspect of their sound and aesthetic scream out, “We are going to be the biggest band in the world!”, but then somehow go relatively unnoticed.  Mew is exactly that band, and it’s the sheer strength of their grandiose arrangements that have doomed them to take the backseat to the electro-folk stylings of the Animal Collectives and Grizzly Bears of the world who have been deemed the torch-bearers of modern music by critics and fans alike.  Despite specializing in a sound that is looked down upon or at best ignored by indie fans, and despite failing to break into a market that is currently embracing the likes of Muse and The Killers, Mew continue on with their mission of delivering transcendent melodies and extraterrestrial riffs, determined to make as many fall in love as will give their music a chance.

Those familiar with Frengers or And the Glass Handed Kites will have a pretty good idea of what to expect going into No More Stories.  Mew have indeed returned, and although they are now minus one bassist, they have not lost their trademark swoon.  The album will likely make people think of both Frengers and Kites at different points; Frengers during the stretch from “Hawaii” to “Sometimes Life Isn’t Easy”, and Kites on the progged out “Intrducing Palace Players” or the 7 minute centerpiece “Cartoons and Macramé Wounds”.  However, if the album has any fault, it’s that it lacks a standout track that the previous two albums featured; there’s no “Comforting Sounds” or “Zookeeper’s Boy” to be found here, but on the other hand there are fewer missteps than ever before.

What distinguishes No More Stories from the rest of Mew’s catalog is their exploration of texture; never before have they played with robotic beats as they do on “Tricks”, pulled it back with such swagger as they do on “Silas the Magic Car”, or for that matter, played vocals backwards (and maybe forwards as well?  I’m still baffled as to how they synchronized this song) as they do on album opener “New Terrain”.  The entire album is truly, as cheesy at sounds, a musical journey.  Mew is here to lead you by the hand through a musical landscape featuring a wider variety of moods and textures than they’ve ever explored, melodic crescendos that only Mew could have reached (well… maybe Sigur Ros), and a generally transcendent aesthetic that will be ringing in your ears for months to come.

Had they been born into a more accepting culture, Mew would likely occupy both the year end lists and the dreams of every young girl alive.  As it stands now though, they have for me cemented their position among the decade’s essential artists by now delivering three distinct and nearly inscrutable albums in a row, a feat achieved by only the most masterful in the industry.

Final Score: 9.5/10

Highlights: Introducing Palace Players, Repeaterbeater, Silas the Magic Car, Cartoons and Macramé Wounds

Mute Math is a special band for me.  I grew up listening exclusively to Contemporary Christian Music,  which is all well and good for a young’un growing up in a Christian home, but eventually one’s taste has to expand.  I mean let’s face it, CCM isn’t exactly a musical pioneer.  That’s where Mute Math came in.  When I first heard their Reset EP, my eyes where opened, and opened wide.  Mute Math, with only 6 standard length tracks and one short outro, managed to hook me with the solid pop/rock conventions that I had always appreciated, and at the same time introduce me to ideas which at the time seemed wildly experimental, and even now after I have undergone 5 years of musical exploration remain pleasing and refreshing.  Their self titled debut long-player satisfied my cravings for more;  Mute Math nearly flawlessly managed to combine pop/rock conventions with hip hop beats, jazz flairs, industrial effects, and experimental stylings.  Mute Math quickly rose to the top of my admittedly small vocabulary of artists.

It should come as no surprise then, that I looked forward to Armistice with both extreme anticipation and nervous unease.  After all, since I had last purchased the self titled album 3 years ago, far more sonically inventive bands had worked their way into my listening time.  Would Armistice expand upon the experiments and instrumentals so seamlessly presented on Reset EP and the self-titled, or would it “sell out”, influenced by the relative success of their single “Typical”?  Unfortunately, the latter is inarguably true.  Whether due to “Typical”, or the new producer, or some other factor, one cannot know, but it is clear that Mute Math are dedicated to focusing on their pop side rather than their more inventive side that had been so promisingly hinted at before.

Of course, it would be unfair to criticize a band simply for choosing a direction that I personally don’t care as much for.  There are some undoubtedly potent moments here.  After the energetic but primitive opener, “The Nerve”, “Backfire” stutters in, introducing a delicious, contagiously unconventional guitar riff and one of Paul Meany’s strongest choruses yet.  “Spotlight” and “Goodbye” are both fast-paced and catchy songs that stand out well against some of the slower numbers.  “Armistice” exposes Mute Math’s New Orleans background by featuring the Rebirth Brass Band, who help to accentuate an album highlight.  “Clipping”, the clear highlight of the album, could stand against nearly any song in Mute Math’s catalog, thanks in large part to a rousing string section that winds through the bridge and supports a soaring, albeit somewhat underdeveloped chorus.

However, as much as Mute Math shines more than ever in some areas, they have suffered just as much in others.  The album feels very artificial compared to the self titled.  “Pins & Needles” and “The Lost Year” are pleasant enough Ballads, but feel arbitrary, and the introduction of strings, although welcome on “Clipping”, sound like they are included for convention’s sake.  In several areas the album feels overly busy, which clouds things and makes the album feel a bit samey.  A few isolated listens will reveal “Odds” to be a standout track, but it’s difficult to distinguish amongst “Goodbye” and the near painful “Electrify”.  The artificial tendencies are no more clear anywhere than on album closer “Burden”.  The 9+ minute song opens with an unmemorable, upbeat song that pales next to “Spotlight” and “Goodbye”.  It’s the ambient interlude that follows that is oddly the best moment on the song.  A potent, if repetitive melody briskly floats above a soundscape that does far more to capture attention than the cashed in opening portion of the song.  The interlude eventually gives way to a tame drum solo, which feels very tacked on, as if Mute Math suddenly remembered that they could do that sort of thing, and half-heartedly rushed to stick it on there.  It’s an awkward and unfitting ending to an album that, if it had wanted a 9 minute closing track, should have offered some sort of structural balance throughout the rest of the album.

Then there’s the issue of songwriting.  While Meany is by no means a particularly poor songwriter, he’s become a very stagnant one.  The lyrics are kept very simple, often embarrassingly so, such as on “The Nerve”.  More than that though, he doesn’t seem willing to really take his songs anywhere.  We know that he can, as proved by the likes of old songs such as “Break the Same” and “Stall Out”, as well as by his excellent live performances.  However, the album lacks the flair and direction that I had been hoping for; he generally seems content to deliver his simple lines, occasionally adding a bit of variation in his delivery, such as the added raspyness on “Pins & Needles”.  Part of the problem is the production.  I hate to blame an album’s faults on the producer when I had very little insight into the studio, but the production on the vocals is too artificial; some of the effects are entirely unnecessary, when we know that Meany is perfectly capable of delivering without electronic assistance.  Next time around, Meany is going to need to make an effort to sophisticate his songwriting approach both lyrically and melodically and be more willing to experiment with vocal variation.  Darren King’s percussion antics can only hold so much of the burden.

That said, Armistice is by no stretch of the imagination a bad album.  It may seem odd that I’m assigning a fairly high score to an album that I’ve primarily criticized.  The tone of the review can be attributed to the expectations that Mute Math had set with their past efforts.  If anything, Armistice is a testament to Mute Math’s overall worth; they’ve taken another small step down (Reset > s/t > Armistice… We’ll ignore the abysmal Spotlight EP), and still have a great album on their hands.

Final Score: 8.0/10

Highlights: Backfire, Clipping, Spotlight, Odds

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