Yellow Ostrich is proof positive that lo-fi beginnings can lead to great things. The band's driving force, vocalist/songwriter Alex Schaaf, began making four-track pop recordings in his bedroom back in his home state of Wisconsin. And now, the Brooklyn-based band takes simple ideas and makes them larger-than-life. Their latest, "Cosmos," is heavily influenced by the work of Carl Sagan—an influence that can be heard lyrically and felt viscerally. And as Schaaf belts out words like, "I wanna feel small/don't you?", you'll feel just that, in the presence of their universe-sized, anthemic sound.
Sure, the city of Detroit has had its share of bankruptcy, but not when it comes to hip-hop. The city boasts a wealth of artists and has for some time now.
Black Milk (real name: Curtis Cross) is one of them, and has recently released the EP "Glitches in the Break" on the heels of the top-rated "No Poison No Paradise" LP from last year. He draws heavily on his hometown for content, and on old-school hip-hop sound, with samples that feel nostalgic and familiar. There's way less lyrical audacity here than in most rap—seems Curtis is more intent on sharing his struggle than being deemed the dopest.
Y'all might know by now that I'm pretty jazzed about
Speedy Ortiz. The Massachusetts-based foursome released what I thought was the best album of last year ("Major Arcana"—get thee to it, post haste), and now they're back with an EP called "Real Hair." It's got the noodley guitar work and the inventiveness of their previous stuff, and Sadie's voice kills it with the right balance of vulnerability and power. (For Kansas-City-based folks, Speedy Ortiz comes to Czar Bar on March 19th.)
"Gouge/my eyes out..." You've never heard someone sing words like these quite as sweetly as
Eternal Summers singer/guitarist Nicole Yun. On their newest, "The Drop Beneath," you'll find other arresting lyrics delivered in a similarly dreamy fashion, backed by a jangly, phaser-effected guitar, reminiscent of Galaxie 500 or the Smiths. This three-piece outfit belongs to something called the Magic Twig Community, an art collective in Roanoke, Virginia. And they've got hooks for days. If you're a 90s kid, this will play like the soundtrack to your best, most angsty teen romances.
