I’ll start with the most obvious: she refused to be pigeon-holed. Every album Angel Olsen releases redefines her, placing her in a new spectrum of ideas and music that defy expectations. It makes it hard to write about her, because judging her by previous metrics is impossible.

Angel Olsen forces you to judge her present work in a vacuum.

Somehow, though, each record feels better than the last. Although comparing them is foolish, My Woman feels like the real Angel Olsen. But then again, so did Burn Your Fire for No Witness. (You see the problem here?) As always, My Woman is a statement. This time around, Angel’s got love on her mind.

“Shut Up Kiss Me” feels anthemic, while “Never Be Mine” offers a counterpoint to that song’s intense passion. The themes of the tracks are clear from the title, but the musical and vocal intensity that Angel delivers them with leaves no doubt about her intent with the track. Angel’s vocal prowess elevates the subject matter.

“Give It Up” feels like Nevermind-era Nirvana, and that feels fitting for Angel’s take on the despair of love. My Woman makes love sound constantly painful; even when it’s good, it hurts. It’s fleeting when you have it, infatuating when you don’t, and painful when it’s gone. Angel’s take on love is similar to the way Buddhist monks talk about pain: love, lovelessness, and unrequited love are all crazy moments in time that dissipate as soon as they materialize. And every change is a blessing and a curse.

At least, that’s what Angel says on the first half of the record. On the album’s second half — particularly “Sister”, “Woman”, and “Pops” — Angel makes the case for her womanhood. Similarly defined by pain and wreckage, this is Angel at her heaviest and most aware.

The two halves of this record are stylistically at odds. The latter half is so much slower and more subtle than the first, but it never lags — even while it sprawls into eight-minute opuses. On “Pops”, Angel’s distorted voice carries the weight of a two-ton hammer. “I’ll be the thing that lives in a dream when it’s gone,” she sings.

With that, Angel writes her thesis about love: it’s a thing of fancy, and the dream is better than the reality.

It’s fitting to me that there’s no modern comparison for Angel Olsen’s music. We often compare her to Dolly Parton — perhaps her clearest idol — but there’s obviously room to add Nancy Sinatra and Joni Mitchell to the list. Angel Olsen isn’t a throwback, but she captures the dreamy female-led pop prowess that many of us love and miss. My Woman captures that spirit better than any of Angel’s previous records. It’s Angel’s best and most powerful record yet.

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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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The changes in the band’s sound are evident from the first track. “Crumbling Light Posts”, which is a three-part theme throughout the record, is the strongest sign that the band has changed. The songs have more emotional, visceral depth and sincerity. They’re also the best songs the band has ever written.

The album is filled with catchy tracks. “Flow with It (You Got Me Feeling)” is one of the band’s catchiest songs, and “All I Ever Wonder” is already one of their most popular tracks.

But these tracks have more depth than before. “I can’t tell what side I’m on / I can’t tell what’s right or wrong,” the band sings on “All I Ever Wonder”. On the Tom Petty-inspired “Sanctify”, he sings “I want to feel something real.”

These songs are no doubt inspired by life on the road. They’re dazed and confused, but they’re emotionally stirring. They’re exhausted, but not exhausting. They’re questioning the realities the band thought they knew before they saw more of the world.

It’s worth restating how great these songs are, even if they do feel more “aware”. Tracks like “Brain Matter” deviate from the band’s traditional soul inspiration, sounding almost like Arcade Fire tracks. And when they get back to their roots on tracks like “Sanctify”, “Burning Rome”, or “Tears in the Diamond”, the band is stronger than they’ve ever been. These songs all feature decadent performances.

Half the City felt like a live record. It felt like an album that captured all the visceral energy of a band known for its live performances. But Sea of Noise is different. The band doubles down on writing earnest, sincere, mature music. It’s not as energetic, but it’s more convincingly emotional — without feeling contrived.

The strange result of all this is that Sea of Noise becomes the intimate counterpoint to Half the City. We got to know St. Paul & The Broken Bones on Half the City, but on Sea of Noise, they open up. They share their deepest secrets.

Sea of Noise proves that St. Paul & The Broken Bones have something to say, and a more varied toolkit than any of us expected. It’s a sign they’ll be around a while longer.

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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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Oliva Tremor Control

Music from the Unrealized Film Script: Dusk at Cubist Castle

This album is a psychedelic -pop masterpiece. Overflowing with ideas, this record found a way to marry sound collage and concise songwriting without every seeming forced or laboured. It is like Badfinger and Karlheinz Stockhausen rolled into one.

Listen: iTunes / Apple Music / Amazon / Spotify

David Sylvian

Manafon

I have been on a kick with these later David Sylvian records. This and Blemish are my current favourites. I adore the atmosphere he creates with the musicians (Christian Fennesz, Evan Parker, Toshimaru Nakamura, etc.) and how brave he is in leaving space and letting sounds hang. This isn’t an easy record to listen to. The subject matter is quite dark, but for some reason I find myself drawn to it. In a way, it is so bleak that it makes me feel better about the world.

Listen: Amazon

OLD

The Musical Dimensions of Sleastak

In 1993 I was listening to a lot of death metal and indie rock and nothing sounded as strange and otherworldly as this record. I think James Plotkin is consistently brilliant and I love Alan Dubin’s vocals/lyrics. It is constantly morphing. It is a harsh, organic, and truly psychedelic listening experience. The final track, “Backwards Through the Greedo Compressor” is a real mind-melter of studio mix improvisation.

Listen: iTunes / Apple Music / Amazon / Spotify

Andy J. Lloyd (bass)

Julianna Barwick

Nepenthe

The most beautiful vocals imaginable, structured into perfect topographical dreamscapes.

Listen: iTunes / Apple Music / Amazon / Spotify

Max Richter

From Sleep

A master composer creating endlessly simple and beautiful sounds, masterfully.

Listen: iTunes / Apple Music / Amazon / Spotify

Nailbiter

Formats

Punishing awesomeness, delivered without apology, but with style.

Listen: iTunes / Apple Music / Spotify

Jon Maki (drums)

Flower-Corsano Duo

You'll Never Work In This Town Again

I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing the Flower-Corsano Duo live twice. Once in Toronto and again in Helsinki. Both shows were absolutely blistering. Being a drummer, Chris Corsano blows my mind every time I see him. This self-released live recording is a really good representation of what you should expect from the aural magic created by just a Bulbul tarang (Indian banjo) and drums/percussion.

Bola Sete

Ocean Memories

Bola Sete is one of my favourite unsung artists and one of my favourite artists in general. John Fahey originally put this album out on his Takoma label in 1975, but this 2 CD reissue has an additional disc of unreleased recordings. Some of the most beautiful guitar work you’ll ever hear in your life.

Listen: iTunes / Apple Music / Amazon

Laura Spiegel

The Expanding Universe

One of the earliest and most compelling computer based albums to reach my ears. Composed from 1974–1976. Her ambient music truly does lead to expansion of your mind’s universe.

Listen: iTunes / Apple Music / Amazon / Spotify

Tim Condon (keys, guitar)

The Necks

Drive By

I discovered The Necks by seeing them at the Spitz in London (UK), one of the most conducive-to-a-good-show venues anywhere in the world. They were extraordinary. The next time I saw them was at the Corner Hotel, in Melbourne, on a hot January night (I think it was 44c), and the air conditioning had broken down. Not conducive to listening to an at times small, quiet, slow and building improvised musical experience. But yet they were equally as extraordinary. They are the best band in the world at making you forget where you, and they are, and being held, immersed in their world of texture, melody and space. Every album of theirs is incredible, but Drive By is a great starting point, especially when traveling long distances.

Listen: iTunes / Amazon

Alessandro Cortini

Sonno

I find it insulting to call this “experimental” – this album is filled with musical experiences that are familiar to anyone who has experienced heartbreak, sadness, loneliness or isolation. This is not experimental – upon first listen it is instantly familiar and innate. The saddest, most fractured and gorgeous of melodies, all tripped up by noise, static and orchestrated by a mechanical sequence. The opening track, “Rovine” says a million words in seven and a half minutes. Sadly gorgeous throughout.

Listen: iTunes / Apple Music / Amazon / Spotify

Fire! With Jim O'Rourke

Are You Still Both Unreleased?

Fire! just use Mats Gustafsson’s atonal, nagging, persistent, pained and screaming saxophone to blast forward, destroying any hesitation over what the fuck is going on. It’s just happening. Try putting this on (in particular opening track “Are You Both Still Unreleased?”) at a decent volume and watching how many people are physically repelled by how blunt, brutal and difficult this music is.

Listen: iTunes / Apple Music / Amazon / Spotify

Oren Ambarchi

Sagittarian Domain

Ambarchi continues to astound and astound (in particular in 2012, when this album was released, alongside 9 other releases he put out that year) uses repetition and layers to push forward, moving past any contemporaries with grace.

Elsewhere in 2012, Oren Ambarchi teamed up with Fire! for their album In The Mouth – A Hand. 2012 was a pretty great year.

Listen: iTunes / Apple Music / Amazon / Spotify

The post Fresh Snow: 13 Experimental / Improv Albums We Love appeared first on Unsung Sundays.

The video is loosely based on the story of Laura Bridgman, a deaf-blind teenager in the 18th century. Laura’s physician subjected her to a bizarre experiment. Her physician cut her off from all religious influences of the day. (In the 1700s, that would have meant most of daily life.) Reportedly, this was an attempt to demonstrate that we all have natural connections to God.

The very act of the experiment would have defied many spiritual leaders of the day, particularly in the Catholic and Anglican churches.

Mats Ud, the director of the video, explains: “The dancer in the video is actually dancing in totally blindness, which was kind of an experience.” He shot the video in a single day in Stockholm.

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As their fan base grew, it didn’t take long for Karmin to attract the notice of a major label. In 2012, they released Hello, an eight-track EP, with Epic Records. In 2014, they released their full-length debut on Epic: Pulses.

After disappointing sales, Epic let them go.

(Turns out the Venn diagram between Youtube addicts and record purchasers doesn’t overlap much. I kid, but… Well, I don’t kid. If you’re reading this and you work at a record label, your single takeaway from this review should be that Youtube views are rarely indicative of record sales. That being said, the opposite is true: a record that’s selling well will almost always get a lot of Youtube views. Anyway, moving on.)

After getting let go by Epic, Karmin decided to release their sophomore effort independently. As a result, Leo Rising feels like a record they wanted to make.

Each track in Leo Rising is based off a different sign. “Blame It on My Heart” is based on Sagittarius, for example. “Save Me Now” (one of the best tracks on the record) is Capricorn. (Sadly, the album titles in Apple Music don’t indicate which track is meant to be which sign — I had to look it up.)

The result is a smart collection of alt-pop tracks that offer a wide variety of styles. “Come with Me (Pure Imagination)” is a cover/remix from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory that’s unapologetically pop. This is the sort of music that Karmin is known for. (It’s well-timed, too: R.I.P. Gene Wilder.)

“Didn’t Know You” competes with the best pop: the verse reminds me of Lady Gaga, and the chorus competes with the best indie. “No Suitcase”, my favourite track on the record, offers a fun chorus and a shiny verse that feels like L.A. (It could also double as a “love letter” to Epic Records, although I doubt it’s intended to feel that way.)

There’s an infectious sense of fun throughout this record that was missing from Karmin’s records with Epic. Although the duo is rapping less than they used to, it feels like they’re finally making the music they want to make. This is the first record from Karmin that’s caught my attention, and if you haven’t heard the band yet, this is the first one from them that deserves your heavy rotation.

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