But somehow, despite being reminiscent of indie darlings like Dirty Projectors, The Lemon Twigs have made an album that’s approachable despite its quirks. “I Wanna Prove to You” is one of my favourite songs of 2016; it’s an anthemic originality with an incredibly sing-along chorus. I took a road trip over Christmas, and there and back, my wife and I found ourselves hollering along with the chorus. (My brother-in-law and his girlfriend, understandably, thought we were slightly odd.)

Then there’s the majesty of “These Words” and the Beatles-esque simplicity of the piano-driven “How Lucky Am I?”. “Hi + Lo” has one of the most crowd-worthy choruses I’ve heard since Rah Rah’s “Art & a Wife”. The twenty-year-old version of me in college would have proudly proclaimed Do Hollywood as one of the best records of the post-Arcade Fire indie rock movement.

All that aside, what we’re left with here is a record that’s hard to make sense of. The duo puts music together in, shall we say, interesting ways. I’m often reminded of The Beatles while I listen to The Lemon Twigs — not because they sound similar, but because The Lemon Twigs have borrowed so much from the songwriting language of The Beatles without aping their actual sound.

As a result, The Lemon Twigs have a truly original record on their hands, and a unique sound that will serve them well for (hopefully) many albums to come. Miraculously, it just so happens that The Lemon Twigs have the ability to back up their inventiveness with great songwriting.

I couldn’t recommend Do Hollywood more if I wanted to. This is one of 2016’s hidden gems.

Photo by Brian W. Ferry.

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And it’s going to be hard not to give it to them.

It’s obvious from “Move”, the album’s first track. Saint Motel is interested in writing pick-me-up music that grabs your attention and keeps it. The catchy chorus, the hook-filled verse, and even the production on the record are all punchy.

In a lot of ways, Saint Motel is beginning to feel like the spiritual successor to the harmless party music of yesteryear, like “Mambo No. 5”. I’m not saying that Saint Motel’s music sounds like “Mambo No. 5”. I’m arguing that they share the same spirit, the same mood, the same joy — and yes, they want the same thing. They want you to move to the groove.

Almost every track has the same level of catchiness and enthusiasm. I love the sax flairs in “Destroyer”. (And the lyrics are hilarious: “I don’t break hearts; I destroy them.” I flat-out giggled when I heard it the first time.) “Getaway” sounds like the sort of tune people would have danced to the old iPod commercials (and I’m looking forward to seeing the music video, which I hope times the cuts to the beat).

It’s not just the opening tracks that are catchy, either. Even the later tracks on the record, like “Local Long Distance Relationship (LA2NY)”, are inescapably catchy. Almost every song is danceable, and nearly every song will compel you to roll down the window and sing along. (My mark of a great sing-along record is one that I want to belt along with in the car.)

But the inarguable highlight of the record is “For Elise”, a Queen-like track that riffs off “Für Elise”. It’s everything that Saint Motel does well: it’s catchy, naturally, but it’s also lyrically clever. And the way it combines modern pop with Beethoven’s piano composition is very smart songwriting. It’s hard to discuss the track without superlatives, because it’s a flawless pop song.

With that in mind, there’s only one thing that saddens me about saintmotelevision. Not every track is as good as “For Elise” (although that might have been an impossible ask). That’s literally my only complaint about the whole record.

For fans of Jukebox the Ghost (and a few of the other indie pop darlings of the past decade), it’s impossible not to recommend saintmotelevision. It’s easy to put saintmotelevison on repeat and never turn off — which makes it, in my books, a stupendous indie pop record.

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On their third outing, Two Door Cinema Club tells a similar story. They grow in their abilities as songwriters, and the tracks carrie additional pop weight. But this time, it’s easier to compare Two Door Cinema Club to nostalgic 80s throwbacks like Chromeo.

From the first hand-clap on “Are We Ready? (Wreck)”, it’s clear that Two Door Cinema Club’s latest presents a few changes. The hand clapping, danceable riffs, and background vocals all add up to a version of Two Door Cinema Club that feels fresh and new — while still using some of their trademark grooves.

For a band newly focused on a danceable groove, Two Door Cinema Club still uses a lot of guitar-based riffs. And their chorus leads are still excellent. So while there are a lot of 80s references here, it never feels overplayed. More importantly, it never feels like it departs from who Two Door Cinema is.

There are times, however, when Two Door Cinema Club intently pursues the new direction with wreckless abandon. “Bad Decisions” follows the same groove-based style that “Are We Ready? (Wreck)” sets up. It’s a dance floor-ready track that shows off where Two Door Cinema Club is going — and it might have their best chorus ever. But it’s completely different from what we’ve heard before.

None of that is bad. Gameshow is the sound of a band successfully exploring new soundscapes. These experiments make the record better.

In that light, because of their expanded musical vocabulary, the album is incredibly strong from start to finish. It rarely feels stale, and there are a lot of dynamics throughout the record. It never feels like Two Door Cinema Club is pummelling the audience from one track to the next. Gameshow is well-balanced.

Even its mid-section tracks are great. The title track and “Invincible” are both impeccable. (“Invincible” is so good; I’m surprised they didn’t name the record after it.)

On Beacon, it felt like Two Door Cinema Club were getting better as indie rockers. On this record, where they transition even further towards pop, it feels like they’re becoming more comfortable being themselves. To reference Phoenix again, if Gameshow isn’t Two Door Cinema Club’s Wolfgang Amadeus, it’s at least their It’s Never Been Like That. It’s the record where they fully come into their own.

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The past two Phantogram records have been fine, technically speaking. They’re fine indie records. But they’re original to the point that they’re bothersome. It feels like Phantogram tries too hard on them. I remember listening to Voices and being unable to recommend it here. I love weird music, but Phantogram just made me feel uncomfortable. Something was wrong.

With Three, I don’t have that feeling. The record is inventive without being polarizing. It’s familiar without ever being a retread. In short, it simply feels right.

“You Don’t Get Me High Anymore”, the album’s lead single, is a perfect example of this style. The duo’s energetic style translates perfectly to this rock-infused pop style. It’s got a great chorus, a great verse, and a fantastic flow.

The only complaint you could leverage against the record is that it feels stuffed with ideas. They don’t all work well, but so many of them do that it’s hard to hold the bad ideas against the band.

For those of us who have musical ADD, all these ideas make Three refreshingly interesting. Each song is different from then one that came before it. Eight tracks in, “Run Run Blood” is different from anything that came before (and still an excellent song, with a totally surprising verse).

For some people, though, I suspect it’ll be the quieter songs that are more potent. Tracks like “Barking Dog” are impeccably well written and emotive. “Answer” is a track that hits exactly where it hurts, with a piano line that wouldn’t be out of place in a soap opera. (That’s not an insult; music should make us feel this way.)

For Phantogram fans, Three won’t be what they expect. Some of them will acclimatize, and some will not. For the rest of us, I think Three might be their best record yet. Time will only tell. In the meantime, ignore the critics. This record is the most approachable Phantogram record. Three is easy to listen to, easy to love, and still different enough to surprise.

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We’ve all heard music like this before — and it’s hardly surprising to hear it again — but Liz’s video is doing such a good job of embodying the genre that it’s hard to ignore.

More importantly, Liz has created workshops in schools based around the song. The workshops encourage kids to start making positive impacts on their community. It’s a cool way to evoke change, and the definition of an artist putting her money where her mouth is.

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And I Had A Dram That You Were Mine is a heck of a record. Leithauser’s vocal performance is practically unhinged, as intimate as it is performative. He has the intensity of an evangelical pastor on the bridge of “Sick as a Dog”. While his voice might be an acquired taste for some (see “1000 Times”), Leithauser’s performance is among the best in indie music this year.

The music itself is excellent too. Vampire Weekend will miss Batmanglij on their new record — it’s clear from I Had A Dream That You Were Mine that he’s a large part of their creative force. (According to Vampire Weekend’s lead vocalist Ezra Koenig, Rostam will still be contributing to their upcoming record — but who knows how much of it, or in what in capacity.)

It’s easy to compare I Had A Dream That You Were Mine to Vampire Weekend. Not unlike Rostam’s former band, there are no rules here. No two tracks are the same, often shifting from one genre to another (sometimes in a single song). “In a Black Out” feels like a flamenco-influenced pop piece, but “Rough Going (I Don’t Let Up”) pairs ’50s doo-wop with an indie sing-along chorus.

“A 1000 Times” shares the same genes as Vampire Weekend’s “Obvious Bicycle”, but it’s got the urgency and intensity of a Walkmen song. “The Bride’s Dad” has all the intensity of a Bob Dylan song. “The Morning Stars” has the musicality of Vampire Weekend, but the energy of a Walkmen song — but still sounds completely different from anything else on the record.

To be doubly clear: there are no rules here.

You can’t classify Leithauser + Rostam’s debut. That’s likely the point. Both musicians have something to prove. As an album, I Had A Dream That You Were Mine is a statement of creativity. These men want to be known not for their bands, but for their creative abilities.

Like every record from The Walkmen and Vampire Weekend, I Had A Dream That You Were Mine is special. It’s oozing with creativity. Its songwriting is impeccable. And its performances are top-notch. There’s nary a bad track. I Had A Dream That You Were Mine is a rare treat, and one of the year’s best.

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Gold Complex is a mere five tracks long, which the band hopes will be enough to tide fans over while they record their debut. Almost all of the songs are show-ready, though, which makes them perfect for your laid-back house parties and live performances. (And word on the street is that the band’s got a killer show.)

You don’t need to look any further than “Backbone”, the band’s opening track. There’s a great moment just about three minutes into the track: a sax solo fires up in the middle of a track, and for a split second, you think it’s the vocalist gearing up for another verse. The solo’s surprising every time, and never unwelcome.

The blend of soul and pop continues on “O.G.”, which has a couple terrific bass lines. “Cities & Lovers” and “Katrine” slow things down a bit towards the end. These slow-burn tracks harken back to some of the biggest names in old-school soul and R&B. “Katrine” has my favourite solo moment on the record. It’s a simple scale-stepping solo at first, but the way the instruments all bounce off each other is delightful.

The music works because the band is able to pull off the blend so perfectly. Gold Complex (the EP) is a perfect blend of soul and pop that’s both completely impressive and utterly inoffensive — which makes it a great introduction to the genre for those of us who have a time approaching it. It also shows great potential for the band.

If the EP has any downside, it’s that it’s nearly too polished. Gold Complex could benefit from letting their music get a little rough around the edges. As it is, lovers of soul music might find the EP pandering. But if the band stripped away any of the polish, I don’t know if they’d have the same audience.

So let me just say it, and get the elephant out of the room: Gold Complex is soul music for white people. But the band is so good at it that it’s hard to fault them for it.

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Three years later, Groenland’s sophomore album feels so much more sophisticated and mature that it’s hard to believe it’s from the same band. Sabrina Halde is still undoubtedly the star, but she’s given a much larger musical expanse to play with.

A Wider Space is an apt name for the album. It feels as if the band wanted to sound bigger, larger in scope, without losing their quirks and charms. They succeed with flying colours.

This is obvious from the first track: “Nothing Personal” is better than anything on their previous record. The music has a lot in common with both French jazz and Canadian indie, but the band is finally coming into their own. “Distractions” takes some inspiration from St. Vincent. “Healing Suns” could become a hit (and at the time of writing, the most popular track from the band on streaming services).

The album works because it retains the intimacy of Halde’s voice, even while the instrumentation is growing. The band is jazzier than before, and they sound bigger than they ever have before. It sounds almost like they’re a larger band than they were before.

Part of this is because of a massive improvement in production quality, but that doesn’t account for everything on display here. The songwriting is much better. The title track is evocative of the band’s growth. With a wider array of instrumentation and more complex and intricate songwriting, the band has become much more dynamic.

In short, the songs on A Wider Space have developed a personality that goes well beyond quirks. The songs here have character without imposing it. In short, Groenland stepped it up. Their sophomore record is one that I’m happy to recommend. It’s an album I can embrace. It makes me feel warm fuzzies about indie pop. I think you’re going to love.

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In that light, perhaps it isn’t surprising to hear the band changing things up. I think Local Natives felt that Hummingbird took that style as far as it could go. Sunlit Youth is quite different.

If anything, Sunlit Youth is pure indie pop. “Dark Days” takes the band into directions they’ve never been before, but it’s emblematic of the whole record. But unlike most indie pop, Local Natives bring their famed attention to detail to most of the record. As a result, they create intricate moments that most indie groups (outside of Arcade Fire) are incapable of.

“Fountain of Youth” is a great example. The track has a massive chorus, as big as any indie anthem has ever been, but there’s a depth to the song’s arrangement that’s missing from most of the rest of the genre. The drums, vocal harmonies, distorted guitars, Edge-like guitar solos, and sparkly pianos and synths work together to create a densely-layered whole.

It’s a package that only Local Natives are capable of crafting. Each track sounds approachable and simple. But underneath that veneer, there’s a dense complexity few bands can pull off. Even their simplest songs, like “Coins”, feature instrumentation that most pop bands can only dream of.

In preparation for writing this, I read a few other reviews of Local Natives’ discography. I wanted to understand how some other critics viewed the band’s work. One reviewer said Sunlit Youth demonstrated the imprecise control Local Natives have over their instruments, and believe the album stretches them too thin.

I don’t hear that at all. Instead, I’m consistently surprised and delighted by complex tracks like “Jellyfish” and “Mother Emanuel”. On songs like these, the band feels in complete control — never unsure of their instruments.

Sunlit Youth is a new direction for Local Natives, but it’s not an unwelcome one. If anything, while the change is unexpected, it feels natural. Local Natives continues to pleasantly surprise me, and Sunlit Youth is an impressive achievement.

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And all of it is deserved.

Izzy’s stage name is interesting to me. It reminds me of the sensual French pop that was sweeping New York City in the 1960s: full-bodied French singers taking jazz by storm with their mix of classic ability and full-throated sexuality. I don’t know if that’s the image that Izzy Bizu wants to conjure up, and I don’t presume to think it is, but it fits.

First things first: Izzy has a phenomenal voice. Reminiscent of Amy Winehouse, with hints of Adelle, Izzy’s voice hits the rafters with ease. Fitting with my theory on her stage name is her jazz-inspired singing style: it’s playful and sometimes inspirational. It fills a room. But she brings this jazzy style to big pop tracks.

Most of the tracks on this record have a lot of radio potential. “White Tiger”, “Skinny”, and “Diamond” are all excellent — and those are only the first three tracks. None of these songs are particularly thoughtful — “Skinny” is about the body size that Izzy looks for in men — but they’re loads of fun.

Interestingly, A Moment of Madness was supposed to be released in June, but got delayed. This is a summer record if I’ve ever heard one. (Just in time for an “Indian Summer”, right?)

That being said, many of the tracks towards the end of the record feel more traditionally jazz-inspired. “Hello Crazy” feels like a live track. “What Makes You Happy” is an Adelle-like slow burner that thrives off its jazz connections. “Mad Behaviour” features a big, radio-ready chorus, but can’t escape its own lethargy.

My point is, there are two Izzy Bizu’s here: one is a pop-ready, crazed machine of a singer. The other is a quiet and introspective jazz singer. I don’t know which one I’m supposed to be rooting for. Both are excellent.

All of this is to say that A Moment of Madness is too long. It feels like two records. At seventeen tracks, this isn’t a “moment” of madness (if it’s madness at all). It’s fifty-nine minutes of occasional sobriety.

That’s not an insult. I quiet enjoyed both records here. But there are two albums. If you want my advice, take A Moment of Madness and split it in two. Alone, these conflicting sides of Izzy Bizu are both more powerful.

“Mad Behaviour” is a better song when it’s not listened to in the context of “Give Me Love”. Again, both are excellent, but they’re so different.

As odd as it sounds, because of its personality crisis, this is a record we should treasure. There’s no doubt we’ll be hearing more from Izzy Bizu. But in the future, her records will be shorter and more focused. This sort of sprawl is exactly the kind of music Izzy should be making while she fine-tunes her musical identity. If A Moment of Madness is mad at all, it’s only because Izzy doesn’t know who she’s going to be yet. That makes A Moment of Madness exactly the sort of debut it should be.

In an era of perfection, where artists are polished to a shine, the polished production on A Moment of Madness can’t hide the joy of Izzy’s slow self-discovery. For all of the record’s complications and multiple personalities, I love that.

It would be a shame if you missed the debut from one of music’s biggest future stars. A Moment of Madness is to Izzy Bizu as 19 is to Adelle. Don’t skip it.

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