By: Keir Bristol
Rating: 4/11

Remember when everyone tried to do that dance-punk thing, thanks to the success of such bands as Panic! At The Disco and Fallout Boy? Electronica-new-wave band Blip Blip Bleep took a cue from Patrick Stump and Brendan Urie, except they replaced most of the guitars with synths and shortened their song titles. The result? Mediocre harmonies, bad songwriting and a horrible cover of The Cure’s “A Letter To Elise.” Some songs should just not be touched,  and “A Letter To Elise” is one of them.

The first thought that would pop into most people’s minds listening to Blip Blip Bleep’s new album Like Track Stars is “Didn’t I hear this band at Warped Tour?” And you probably didn’t, but it’s likely you heard a band that sounded just like them. The second thought would probably be, “Is this a cheap version of 3OH!3?” and the answer would be “Yes.”

Not to say that they aren’t worth dancing to, if one were drunk enough and had no shame. After the “Rock (Intro)” in which the first lyrics belt “One Two Three Four Five Six Seven, Why Doesn’t This Thing Go To Eleven?” Blip Blip Bleep moves into the repetitive-as-hell “Freak You Out,” which was probably written about a girl the lead singer Sean Han was either grinding with at a college party or having sex with. Whichever would work.

In the middle of the album comes “Like Track Stars,” a song about a Brooklyn girl with “country blond hair” that attempts to be deep and metaphoric, and just ends up being cliché. It moves on to the aforementioned “Letter” after “Broken Strings,” and ends with “Rewrite The Scenes,” a song about the same girl, plus dark eye-makeup and an iPod with an indie rock playlist. And if that wasn’t enough for you, Blip Blip Bleep graces their listeners with a remix of “Freak You Out,” and the “Rock (Intro)/(Reprise).” 

By: Eliza Coolidge
Rating: 6/11 

In New York, one can travel the world without leaving its limits. In a city where you can have your pick from falafel, sushi or pierogi within the confines of one square block, it's no wonder the local music scene is as diversely enriched. Jeremy Noller's newest album release, "Music Notes" (expected to officially drop this September), fuses jazz with the alluring, polyrhythmic textures of West African drumming. Noller, a trained jazz kit drummer and world percussionist, frames an intricate multicultural cross-pollination with ease and comfortableness. Noller's steadiness and feathery touch is natural in its references while evading the overtly 'global' diminutions of less fluent fusion musicians. The recording quality is piercingly clear, displaying Noller's confidence in textural range and technical aptitude.

Though technically impactful, some of Noller's compositions are overly loop-based. In "Dawe," the arrangement sequences aimlessly from loop to loop, emitting a "DVD stuck on menu effect." A sax solo is haphazardly injected as a compositional band-aid. The illusion of intent is not effective and hastily terminated by revisiting one of the many heads. While the construction of Noller's grooves are impressive, the transition between their various permutations are often temerarious. It is not until "Small Arms" that the listener is rewarded with a refreshing breath of space and pensive repose. Noller begins driving the tune with a burning push, playfully taunting his bandmates to keep up. Halfway through the tune the band drops out and the bass is featured in a rubato solo. It is a small but memorable compositional gift he gives. When the groove returns, we feel new ears for its sound.

On the title track "Music Notes," Noller introduces the Gyil, a xylophone from Ghana. The groove is airtight with Noller pattering gently in the background. The rhythmic and melodic interplay of the gyil parts are interesting and recall the influences of Steve Reich and his minimalist compatriots. With the ability to regenerate a traditional concept into a modern configuration, Noller keeps his listener's intrigue in the very bi-lingual palm of his hand.

The album as a whole flirts with many compositional notions, at times bestriding the line between minimalistic and instructional. Nevertheless, his album is contagiously jubilant and successfully clears the preoccupied mind of its woes and strains. I happened to listen to “Music Notes" on the fourth day of successive rainstorms and was blithely leavened in mood and spirit. Thank you, Mr. Noller.

By: Carlyn Worthy
Rating: 8.5/11

Many artists make their start by joining a group to gain recognition. Once they’ve garnered enough exposure, these artists attempt to shy away from their polished image provided by big record companies and pursue their creative ambitions. British guitarist Jody Porter (formerly of Fountains of Wayne) proves it’s more than possible to shed the pop-rock skin with his debut solo album Close To The Sun (Engine Room Recordings, Released May11, 2010).

While not the best vocalist, Porter displays his remarkable skill and unique ear for sound by producing a smooth fusion of rock and jazz. In “Twilite” Porter creates a slow but steady rock ballad complimented with cymbals. He also smartly eliminated competition between instruments, highlighting a different one in each song, like “In Between Time” – possibly the strongest track on the album – where a horn can be heard immediately followed by a melodic guitar and lively snare. In the somber yet affectionate “You’re Not Alone,” Porter changes the sound by making listeners forget the slow tempo and in its place provides an elusive energy.

Impressively, Porter created an album that flows with ease. Every music lover has experienced the feeling of opening a new CD and listening begrudgingly as they realized it was front-loaded. This album can be played from start to finish without skipping over a single track, a rarity in this industry. Even better, Close To The Sun is a jack of all trades in its ability to adapt. This album would compliment your morning run, a lazy afternoon by the pool or an evening drive. Porter’s music is reminiscent of Brit-rock familiars Oasis, Stereophonics and Kula Shaker. With this album, he has successfully created enough variation to stand out, while drawing in the tracks with enough cohesion and consistency to make the artwork a whole.

By: Joseph VanBuren
Rating: 7/11

With a band named Daylight and a CD called Sinking, this quartet from Pennsylvania instantly sums up the yin and yang of being a melodic/hardcore punk act. Indeed, this 5-song EP, the band’s debut, is a nicely balanced mix of heavy and melodic riffs, with rhythms that follow suit and vocals that are luckily often drowned out by the complexities of the music. The production quality is top-notch; guitars are often multi-layered, and it takes a good engineer in the studio to achieve the sonically satisfying sound that Sinking delivers. The fact that the band is also extremely tight probably has something to do with it as well.

In contrast to the impressive musicianship and sound quality of Daylight’s songs, the vocals are quite mediocre. Lead vocalist Taylor Madison performs in that limbo between singing and screaming, trying to keep up with the music’s duality. This leaves him simply shouting out of key most of the time. It also doesn’t help that his generic lyrics sound like they were written by a very depressed first-grader, as exemplified in the title track: “I’ve got this sinking feeling coming up inside/ I can’t let this go into my head.”

Though the songs are built around mid to fast punk tempos, Sinking shines the most when it briefly strays from this, such as in the mellow and mysterious intro of “The Best.” Most of the EP is solid and steady; well-executed but fairly predictable. In the end, Daylight manages to find a balance between yin and yang. Sinking sounds great and, though it may not impress many outside of the genre, it's sure to please fans who like their punk as harmonious as they do heavy.

By: Nora E. Lindner
Rating: 9/11

Vaudeville, burlesque, punk cabaret -- these are just some of the descriptives that come to mind from the opening piano of People Eating People’s self-titled debut (The Control Group LLC, 2009). People Eating People is Nouela Johnston. Based in Seattle, Johnston (formerly of Mon Frere) has created something unique and fresh, a mix of olde tyme entertainment and modern musical expressions. The album opens with a showstopper in the song "Darling." 

Her voice is melodic and charming, but her words are often sardonic and darkly humorous. "Don't need supernatural help, I can fuck things up myself" she says in "Supernatural Help," and you can almost hear her ironic smile. The combination is something like Fiona Apple at the circus, or Amanda Palmer circa The Dresden Dolls without the mimes.  

Johnston has the natural gift of creating a spectacle of music and she does most of it herself playing piano, rhodes, and bass. The minor keys give her music the dark flavor that contrasts nicely with the flamboyance of the orchestration. "I Hate All My Friends" is alternately funny and true, and Johnston pounds the chords and slides through the scales with all the vehemence of betrayal, while she grits out some harsh honesty in the lyrics, “I hate all my friends because all they do is lie through their teeth.”

In contrast, “For Now” is a sweet little ditty with just as much bitterness, but one that comes out in a completely different key. “Supernatural Help” presents pessimistic self-assessment in gentle intonation, sprinkled with epic crescendos of emotion. 

“Let’s Rage” finishes out the album with a slow-building call to arms. While perhaps less of a pageant than some of the other tracks, this song shows People Eating People’s paired down brilliance. “I’m no one special,” Johnston sings, but she may not be aware of her own contradiction. “Let’s Rage” shows, in four minutes, that, whether or not you buy this album, it’s just the opening act for a talent itching to debut.