Duck & Cover :: Indie rock music writing from Arcade Fire to the Zygotic Minci

oh-em-gee. . . My Bloody Valentine. Is releasing. A. New. Record! The first since a little release called Loveless that you may or may not have heard of. No, really, it’s a classic! Loveless ? Does the word 'shoegazer' ring a bell? Blissful pop songs buried under layers of gorgeous feedback? Yes, that one! Anyway the purveyors of polyphony are back. I mean, seriously, they’ve had, what, SIXTEEN years to come up with something even more astounding than Loveless ... which, as we’ve said, was pretty close to perfect. And while My Bloody Valentine didn't start the shoegazer scene, they arguably defined it with Loveless . None of the others (Slowdive, Ride, Curve, Cocteau Twins) could approach the album for sheer density, and so the scene slowly drifted into the background like so much feedback. The record that made My Bloody Valentine was also their undoing. And then, all of a sudden, as if from the ashes, there appears Kevin Shields: he shuffles off the brittle coils of a lif

Well, it's not really so much a tape as it is a playlist, but we grew up with cassette tapes. And since it's our blog, we can call it whatever we want. So while you're poring over our posts--as we know you do--you can listen to some of the songs we like. We'll try to update the mix tape, er "playlist", every week. However, we tend to spend a lot of time in bars, so cut us a little slack. So yeah. Duck and Cover Mix Tape: second door on the left.

It's difficult to find the right music for staring off into space. Dub and reggae sometimes work, but only because the stuff is so mind-numbingly boring that it might as well not play at all. In fact, pop into your local coffee shop (as long as it isn't Starbucks for god's sake), ask them to put on some reggae, and then read a book. I guarantee you'll devour the text with more fervor than ever before because your brain, upon sensing sound devoid of meaning, looks for something--anything--else on which to focus. Discovering music that enhances the staring off into space experience, on the other hand, is rare. Echolocation , the 2001 release by Fruit Bats, is just such an album. If Jack Johnson makes you want to put ice picks in your ears, Fruit Bats will stay your hand. Multi-instrumental, poetic, and layered with lush harmonies, Echolocation is not so much mellow as it is introspective. You won't want to smoke a doobie and ponder on the existence of extraterrestri

Dakin is going to hate me for this. He's hunkered down to endure the dark and cold of a Northwest winter with Califone and The Dirty Three, but I can't help it. It's almost summertime here (New Zealand), which means upbeat music. The kind of fun time pop tunes that are like crack cocaine to my ears: The Shins, Vampire Weekend, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah--Oh man, that's the good stuff. And then I happen upon this video while perusing one my favourite design blogs ( swissmiss ). I don't know if Noah and the Whale is a band, or if it is just the name of a song. While I understand it would take me all of two minutes to Google them and find out, I'm happier not knowing right now. Because it's summertime, you see, and I don't have time for facts. For god's sake there's a woman outside my window in a bikini--truth and details can wait! A few years ago I would have been embarrassed at my ignorance of such a fun band, but this is 2007, and--let's face i

Sometimes it’s not enough to survive winter. Sometimes you want winter to cut you just so that you can enjoy the warmth of your own blood, however fleeting the pleasure. Sometimes you want to traverse dark roads bundled in shadow and avoiding the eyes of passing strangers. Sometimes you wish to visit a place inside yourself that is far less civilized, a place that, though you’ve been many times before, still requires a map to locate. This map can take many forms, and has, for centuries, done so for many people. Some wish to find these roads through drink or pills or violence; others, the more sane, the more austere prefer music. Not anything will do of course, it must be, preferably non vocal, with no real importance placed on the composition’s simplicity or complication. it must, however, possess a certain quality that is impossible to define or explain until it is experienced. The Dirty Three certainly has such quality, and can be retained for use as such a map, and easily so. Person

"The night starts here . . ." Just don't let it go any further. Romanticism (as a philosophy rather than a literary period) is often misinterpreted, and too much emphasis placed on traditional Hollywood versions of "romance": candle-lit dinners, rose petals on the bed, cliched situations involving rings and champagne. A true romantic wouldn't have time for such laziness, such hackneyed devices, because a true romantic would not have time to plan a dinner, let alone light anything that isn't going to explode. You see, a romantic is a revolutionary; an anarchist. True romanticism is thoughtless, kinetic energy: all hope, no logic. Romantics want something to happen--anything. They yearn for the chaos; want buildings to crumble around them, to dodge the rubble, and to, somehow, come out okay. The latest release by Canadian pop group Stars sets out to be a romantic's anthem. The first song builds into the second one--big chords, driving bass drum--mimick

Winter in the Northwest comes upon you hard and fast. Fall’s flirtation is brushed aside, and with the fervor of an angry drunk Winter barrels into the room. One moment you shed your coat after a trek uphill, stopping to rest and wiping sweat from your brow, the next a gale wind is driving you back inside, back to comfort. Suddenly your light jacket is no longer sufficient armament against winter’s chill, and you must arm yourself with tweeds and a scarf, and where did you put your gloves? You take comfort in soups (Matzoh ball! Lentil and chard!), a good wine, the company of good friends, and of course, proper music. The music of winter does not fight off the chill, it does not transport you to days of sunshine and garden parties. The music of winter embraces the cold and the darkness, but nonetheless comforts you with it’s own ambient warmth. Today the winter wind is blowing hard, the waters of Seattle’s Puget Sound are an angry gunmetal; passing boats rock up and down, fighting the

All this talk of bands breaking up (well, of one band breaking up), makes one muse on the cycle of musical groups. Some acts depart from the scene after a short-lived stint, only to reconfigure under different names. Other bands never make it that far. And still others stick around long after their relevance has expired. For instance, think of your favourite band(s). Are they still playing? Are they new-ish? Are they dead and gone, but so entrenched a part of your personal narrative that you simply cannot let them go? Furthermore, think about those acts who come and go before you even knew they were there, leaving you with that dull ache that accompanies missing out. Is the ache greater than experiencing a band in full, seeing them live, then watching as they fade and depart exactly as they started--their music a reminder of what we can't regain? I was walking down Roches street in Limerick, Ireland. It must have been late Summer, or maybe early Autumn. The air was crisp and smelle

As per Electrelane's website, and following the genius of 2007's No Shouts No Calls , Electrelane is calling it quits for the time being, or, rather, "the foreseeable future". Well, we all know what that means. That means no more Electrelane, forever. Why is it that good bands call it quits all the time, yet Aerosmith, The Rolling Stones*, and The Eagles will always be around? Help me out here, 'cause I need to know. *Not to discount amazing records such as Sticky Fingers , Beggar's Banquet , Exile On Main Street and Let it Bleed , but, c'mon people, when was the last time they put out something like that? Seriously. It's like going to see Flock of Seagulls on tour. Play "I Ran", and let me get on with my evening. If you don't have/haven't heard No Shouts No Calls , buy it now! And if you had a chance to catch the band opening for The Arcade Fire last summer, count yourself among the fortunate.

It's entirely possible that "Hey Ya!" by Outkast is one of the best dance songs ever (evah!), if not one of the best songs ever written by humans. Granted, it's likely that this may be doing some sort of disservice to other worthy contenders, but... right now... at this moment... well, "Hey Ya!" just made one of it's rare appearances on shuffle, and it's impossible for me not to jump up in my empty apartment and scream "Brilliant!" Which I am doing right now, on the internets. There was a time when I feared that I would grow tired of "Hey Ya!". It was 2003, I had gotten my first iPod a year before, and was more than happy to have the genius (again, brilliant!) double opus of Speakerboxx/The Love Below as a constant player in the car, on the bus, walking through the city... But then, well, it was everywhere . Over Christmas we listened to it ("Hey Ya!") repeatedly while myself and my friend Angela snorted No-Doz with a N

I'm lucky to have some stunning pieces of art by Canadian artist Sarah Kernohan in my house. I say "lucky" because I have said pieces on loan from a friend who suddenly got the urge to travel the world. He asked me to look after three drawings on canvas, unframed, and I happily agreed. So when I heard through the e-grapevine that Ms. Kernohan is showing a piece of her collection in Connecticut, I felt compelled to share the news with the blogosphere, of which you are unwittingly a member. The three works I get to enjoy every day depict close up cross sections of bone, overlayed with architectural sketches. Precise staircase angles try in futility to impose artificial order over the shaft of a femur, while seemingly ignorant to the smooth, natural slope that underpins it. Well, that's my take, anyway. Although she explains it with a bit more eloquence: My drawings are a way of sharing the space that I see within these objects. The experience that I am aiming to build w