INDIE ROCK
“From a Compound Eye”
Robert Pollard
Merge
Anyone familiar with Robert Pollard’s ridiculously prolific output is likely used to it by now. The former Guided By Voices leader averages about five albums annually under various monikers, including his own.
But even with that glut of product it’s impossible to ignore the flashes of Pollard’s twisted melodic genius on “From a Compound Eye,” his first official solo disc since disbanding his old group more than a year ago. “Compound Eye” flies by due to its concise songwriting, never mind that its 26 combined tracks push the 70-minute mark.
Enough quality material exists here to cobble together a virtual greatest-hits collection, despite the occasional misstep (mostly of pointless instrumental codas). The clipped cadence of album highlight “Dancing Girls and Dancing Men” recalls The Strokes’ “Last Night” (which in turn recalled Tom Petty’s “American Girl”). It’s a bright spot on a disc awash with inspired moments.
– John Wenzel
POP
“They Think They Are The Robocop Kraus”
The Robocop Kraus
Epitaph
It seems 2005-2006 are the years of David Byrne/Talking Heads imitators in the same way that 2003-2004 were the years of Duran Duran clones. To be sure, we’re better off now than we were two years ago. Clap Your Hands Say Yeah is a blast of ’70s art-school revisionism, and now we have The Robocop Kraus, a fun but less stylistic musical response.
There are moments of dancey, Franz Ferdinand glory (“In Fact You’re Just Fiction”), but most of the record (especially “After Laughter Comes Tears”) is a not-so-subtle – and very alive – homage to Byrne and company.
– Ricardo Baca
SOUL POP
“The Greatest”
Cat Power
Matador
Chan Marshall, who performs as the vital but little-known indie darling Cat Power, seems incapable of writing an uplifting song. Her gorgeous, grainy vocals are the beating heart of her music, but her drowsy tone and dark lyrics betray its bruises.
On “The Greatest,” we hear a bouncier Cat Power than on “You Are Free,” her previous effort, although nothing emerges that’s as immediately vigorous as the latter’s “He War.”
“The Greatest” finds Marshall maturing and trying on new genres (Memphis soul, country), even if the acidic anguish dribbling from every track wears down the listener. The album paints a version of Marshall at the height of her abilities to convey a complex, beautiful sort of yearning. Just don’t expect it to make you feel any better.
– John Wenzel
