Epic, excessive, yucky.

I can't decide: does "Love's Crushing Diamond" by Mutual Benefit sound like entering the gates of heaven? Or does it sound like falling in love? Maybe rapture is the word I'm looking for. With a string section that calls to mind the romanticism of Nick Drake and the ingenuity of Andrew Bird, a vocalist with the fragility of Mark Linkous (Sparklehorse), plus lush back-up harmonies, an out-of-tune piano, a banjo (which becomes a charming rhythmic element) and wind chimes (wind chimes, for goodness sakes), it's almost like friends playing around a campfire, if those friends were all Berklee College of Music graduates. And it's about the most unabashedly joyous music I've heard in a long time.

"If you fly, do it to death." That lyric could be a message about rising above, or one that promotes excess, at a cost. Give the rest of the content of the latest Pusha T album, "My Name Is My Name," it's easy to see it either way. As the label head and producer, Kanye's influence is evident (think "All of the Lights"), but the snarling intensity is all King Push. There are many guest spots on here (Rick Ross, Kendrick Lamar), but all add dimension without overshadowing the main event. What I especially love: the simplicity of the beats and samples on "Numbers on the Boards" and "Suicide." Feels kind of old school, and it sets off Pusha T's voice perfectly.

Funny, they don't sound like they should be named Yuck. What they do sound like: the soundtrack to a Sunday morning that turns into a Sunday afternoon wherein you're maybe still wearing pajamas and it's cool, y'all, just go with it. Their latest "Glow and Behold" does seem to glow, from the glimmering guitars to the reverbed wavering baritone of Max Bloom to the horn section. It should be noted, though, that the last track contains a nearly-exact rip-off of the ending of the Beatles' "Dear Prudence." So close that I'm thinking it must be an homage. That aside: it's lovely, dreamy, a bit 80s, pop in the best possible sense, and miles away from yuck.

Kelela is an R&B singer who brings with her an arsenal of talented producers on her debut "Cut 4 Me." This is not your mom's R&B: it draws inspiration from more recent acts like Little Dragon, layering Kelela's voice on itself and complementing it with crystal-clear futuristic synths. Part of the beauty of this mixtape is the artificiality of the instrumental and the un-autotuned, au-natural-ness of Kelela's voice. In past interviews, Kelela has mentioned how, as a child of Ethiopian immigrants, she often felt like an "other" in America, even though she herself was born and raised here. It's no wonder she's created a sound all her own, and what a sound it is.

 

"Forever Becoming" by instrumental rock (metal?) outfit Pelican is dramatic and cinematic, using textures to great effect. You'll still get your recommended dose of wicked precise guitar work and impressively fast drumming, but not at the expense of gorgeous, expansive melodies, heightened by the perfect counterpoint among the guitars and bass. No lyrics here, either, so the instruments do all the work. And they more than get it done, in a less-than-straightforward way. Unlike the overall orchestral effect of someone like Godspeed You! Black Emperor, these guys are writing songs with distinct melodies. It's just that those melodies are being played, not sung.

F-bombs, riot grrls, slam dunks.

I am just the messenger here, and as such I need to tell you about a band with the name Fuck Buttons. (I'm sorry, OK? But this is urgent! You need to know!) *Ahem.* Fuck Buttons are an experimental electronic outfit from Bristol, England, and they kind of sound like the future. Not, like, future rock music, just The Future. Like maybe the music our future robot overlords will use to get pumped up for things—not like jogging or anything, because they won't jog (doy, they're robots), but maybe the robot equivalent of jogging? Back to the Fuck Buttons (I said sorry): their latest "Slow Focus" came out over the summer, in all its synth-y, bleepy, sample-y wonder. Many of the tracks slowly expand into a gnarl of sound, where the separate parts are hard to distinguish anymore but are all essential. In the end, it's music that redefines what majestic can be. (Look out, John Williams.)

And since we've already dropped the bomb, Fucked Up (apologies) is a band that put out an amazing album two years ago, and yet I'm going to talk about it now because dang it, it's new to me, and it might be new to you. "David Comes to Life" is pretty darn long at more than 80 minutes of music, but that run time seems warranted to me because (a) it's a rock opera and operas take time, and (b) it's triumphant and weird and worth your eighty minutes. A bit about the band: they're a hardcore punk group that likes to mess with convention—hence a hardcore punk band doing a rock opera, and one that's melodic at that. What I especially love: the growl of their lead singer, Pink Eyes (and his name, duh); the high drama of the lyrics ("All we need is for something to give, the dam bursts open, we suddenly live..."); and the fact that a good 80% of the songs are in the key of E (who does that?) and yet they sound like fully-formed, distinctive ideas (how does one do that?).

It comes and goes in about twenty minutes, but while it lasts, "sorry" by White Lung has both fury and chops. This is ass-kicking music in a minor-effing-key, owing much to the relentless, rapid-fire drumming of Anne-Marie Vassiliou and to Mish Way's voice, which easily alternates between punk rock yell and tough girl purr. But the thing that makes it is Kenneth William's guitar work—it's manic and unexpected, and it'll compel you to back up and re-listen while you think, "How the heck'd he do that?" (And, at only twenty minutes total, it's easy to do). They're from Vancouver (Canada again FTW) and though they have two LPs and three 7-inch's under their belts, they feel like they're just getting started. I sure hope there's a lot more to come.

Recently, I had the great joy of seeing Built To Spill perform at the Bottleneck in Lawrence, KS, and Slam Dunk was one of the openers. While their sound is pretty consistent across their set (in a totally good way, to be clear—they have their sound well figured out), their songwriting is entertainingly multi-faceted: at times, their melodies and chord progressions that sound akin to something that would've made kids in the 50's scream and shout (see track two, "Dying Breed" and the sax, man, the SAX). Wait five minutes, and it's the Clash coming through. Five more, and it's Frank Black. Bolstering all of it is energy—a lot of it—and yelling, and unison sing-along-style choruses, and a good sense of humor. It's a bit unhinged, in the best possible way.

Savages, droids, emperors.

Savages. The description that comes to mind doesn't make sense, but here goes: they're a super tight band, and yet there's space—every individual instrument stands out.  So they're together, but separate. Clear as mud, I know. OK, think U2, specifically War-era U2—reverbed and spacious, but each instrument pulling its weight equally, and all of them locked in to each other perfectly. It's haunting and atmospheric but without sacrificing musicality. And over it all, this monster of a voice that can be best described as PJ Harvey meets Siouxie Sioux meets Geddy Lee. Really. Listen to "She Will" and tell me you're not hooked.

Throw your fist in the damn air, man, because Japandroids demand it. It's one thing to successfully pull off garage rock with only a guitarist and a drummer. It's another to pull off arena rock. Not saying these guys could play Giant Stadium or anything, but from the comfort of your headphones, you'll find that these dudes stir up those anthemic music emotions that make you want to run up the steps of the Philly Art Museum. (Incidentally, they're from Vancouver. I've lost count of how many great bands I've listened to recently that are from Canada. Take home message: if you're in a band, be from Canada.)

Godspeed You! Black Emperor makes spooky orchestral rock that builds on loops, layers and effects. Their "Allelujah! Don't Bend! Ascend!" has four tracks—two of them 20-minuters. But those four tracks are an intense, experimental journey. Track 1 doesn't change chords for a whole six minutes and forty-five seconds. Who does that? And yet you feel pulled along, as a willing participant, because wow, those guitars, and geez, that drama.  (Wanna guess where they're from? Seriously, dudes. Canada. Move there.)

Local plug: OK, y'all, Cowboy Indian Bear is a band from the beautiful metropolis known as Lawrence, Kansas. And yes, they're local, so perhaps some bias is coming into play. But they're honest-to-goodness good, not just relative to Lawrence. (Which would still be pretty good, because our music scene is kind of a big deal. I don't know if you've heard.) Their second full-length album, "Live Old, Die Young," has so much delightful about it. It's indie rock that's alternately intimate and other-worldly, all while being consistently beautiful. Favorite track: "I Want a Stranger's Heart." (Though it's really hard to pick just one.)

Sex, swearing, ukeleles.

I'm obsessed with Swearin'. (The band, not actual cussing.) They're a post-punk band with a dual singer thing going on—one male (Kyle Gilbride) who's part J Mascis and part Doug Martsch, and one female (Allison Crutchfield) who's got a Sleater-Kinney timbre to her voice.  It's grungey and scuzzy punk, but with a sweet, succinct pop sensibility. Their new album "Surfing Strange" comes out on November 5th and I can't wait. Favorite track on their eponymous album from last year: "Kenosha." I love their lyrics, too. They get right to the heart of 20-something uncertainty and second-guessiness.

If you're looking for good, clean, family-friendly rap, Danny Brown is not for you. If you are faint of heart, also skip this, because fainting. But if you're looking for rap that reveals the character of a city (Detroit, in this case), that gives you a glimpse into a lifestyle that's (most likely) completely foreign to your existence, and that's at times lewd and comedic but at others completely complex, give Mr. Brown a try. He's changed things up between his last album, "XXX" (more sex, more humor) and the just-released "Old"(more social commentary, still pretty dang dirty), but both are great for different reasons. His off-air antics are pretty scandalous, so if that matters to you, move along.

Eddie Vedder is someone I'd completely lost track of—I heard tell of the wonderful soundtrack work he'd done, but not of his amazing album of ukelele music. Then recently, my friend Carolina sent me this and I had to look up this song to see if there were other versions, and voila: Eddie and Cat Power? Seriously, Universe? What'd I do to deserve that? But even beyond that, the rest of the album showcases Eddie's voice (we're on a first name basis, see) in a way that Pearl Jam rarely does. Not like it's possible to bury this guy in the mix, but it's nice to hear him so clearly. His voice is more nuanced that I ever realized.

The first thing that got me about Metz were the drums. Those drums, man. They're BOOMING. Next thing that got me: all the note-bending guitars. It's noisy, y'all, but these guys have a way of making atonality and angularity sound pretty catchy. Many of their songs top out at two minutes and change, and though they get categorized as post-punk, saying that they're only post-punk doesn't give them enough credit. I'd be interested to see them perform live, both because I love the music but also to see how they pull off their carefully-produced sound (like those aforementioned drums) in a live setting.

Northampton, MA is a lovely, artsy town that has produced a lovely art rock band named Speedy Ortiz. Sadie Dupuis, the lead singer/guitarist, was once in a Pavement cover band, and it shows, the way each song on their latest album, "Major Arcana," meanders without conforming to any one-four-five progression or any sixteen-bar-anything. Sadie's voice has a vulnerability that makes it sound almost like it's about to break, yet she can stand out when things get loud, too. And the track "No Below" will hit you in right the gut if you had a difficult adolescence. (Did anyone not?)

Why I must.

As a kid, it always frustrated me that despite listening to music for many of my waking hours—on the home turntable, on the radio in the car, on my Walkman on the long bus ride home—there were still bands of whom I'd never heard. In the 80s and 90s, of course, this was understandable. There wasn't always good radio reception or a free ride to the record store to satisfy one's need for new music.

But nowadays, there's no damn excuse. And yet I still find myself frustrated by having so much great music pass me by. So lately, I started listening to what some might deem to be an excessive amount of music, instead of watching late-night TV or, you know, going to bed. And while I listen, I scramble around the web for ideas on the next thing I should listen to, reading a whole lot of reviews and trying to decipher the hype from the stuff that's actually good.

I need to hear all the music. It's a compulsion. But on the plus side, I figure it's one of the least bad ones I could have.

There's no defined genre or chronology here. I listen to both new music and to the stuff I've missed. And at some point, I thought, "Maybe I should keep track of all this somewheres." Hence, this. My hope is that you, esteemed visitor, will come here for ideas on what to listen to, and that in writing this, I might hear all the music, or some reasonable approximation.

Some disclaimers: I'm not a professional music critic. I unabashedly love the 90s. I use made-up words. I don't listen to country, unless it's old country. You might (quite often) hear me talk about a band like they're new, when they're in fact not new. Some music recommended might not be suitable for kids or for those who don't like cussin'. And: I don't know what I'm doing and don't have a plan for where this will go. Sorry in advance.

But! If I ever make my way through all the music, I'll let you know how that feels. I'm betting on awesome.