SOUND BITES

Anyone who kept paying attention to My Chemical Romance past their star-making turn in the mid-aughts could have seen Hesitant Alien coming. Eternally pigeonholed as an emo/punk band (you know, the broken hearts/slit wrists set), MCR evolved steadily into a grander, less insular version of itself. It kept things fresh for them but lost too many runny eyeliner clad fans along the way, and by the time they officially called it quits in 2013 the news was met with more shrugs than tears. The thing is, for the perceived drop in quality among the "emo kids", MCR actually got better as a band as they went along. Even their rougher early singles had immense pop sensibilities, and so it only made sense that these pop leanings would grow sharper and more defined. Bemoan the muddled high concept behind Danger Days all you want, but you can't deny that the band's final official album had some monstrously catchy tunes. Gerard Way's debut solo record doesn't necessarily

If any album from 1994 perfectly encapsulates the major labels' "anything goes" attitude of the time, it's probably Ruby Vroom . Released during a tense time during which the industry was trying to figure out what alternative was now that Kurt Cobain was gone, Soul Coughing's debut album was a thing of weird beauty; sample-heavy jazz rock laced with beat poetry and off-kilter hip hop references, it wasn't the easiest thing to categorize. The rhythm section of Sebastien Steinberg and Yuval Gabay kept it tight and funky, while Mark Degli Antoni brought a myriad of strange sounds and samples to the mix. Throw in Mike Doughty's freak folk poetry and you had one of the oddest bands to receive the endorsement of a major label in the '90s. Yet, as weird and potentially off-putting as it all was on paper, Ruby Vroom brought the goods; strange yet strangely inviting, it boasted a bevvy of formidable tunes. The lazy jazz-funk drone of Screenwriter&#

If you took a room full of people aside one by one and asked them to name the first female-fronted rock band of the '90s they could think of, I suspect the vast majority would mention Hole. That's not right or wrong; but the point is that Veruca Salt, despite achieving a good deal of success worldwide and putting out two really good records before things went sideways for them, has been doomed to obscurity in the minds of many. It's understandable, of course; they never dabbled in controversy, went public with any details about their original break-up, or clamored desperately for attention once their fifteen minutes were up. It's not great if the goal was to stay in the public eye, but there was a staggering benefit to going about their business quietly; it ensures what we're left with to reflect on is the music, like it should always be. Stripped of any extracurricular activities or external circumstances, American Thighs is simply the excellen

I'm sure it's very frustrating for a band to painstakingly create an album only to have their American label voice apprehension at the finished product. But it's quite another thing to respond by pairing what they described in an interview as a "joke riff" with "drums as cliched as possible", and making references to American truckers and NRA rallies, people and situations they envisioned this appalling failed attempt at art appealing to. Which is all to say, Alt-J got really, really defensive about their indie cred upon creating something that could potentially steer them toward wider acceptance. The song in question (that, I should note, they have no one but themselves to blame for) is Left Hand Free , an admittedly tossed off song that Alt-J whipped up in an attempt to appease Atlantic Records. It got a mixed response from their fan base, which prompted the disparaging comments (comments they would later backpedal on, presumably once they saw the do

In recent years, R.E.M.'s ninth album has undeservedly earned a somewhat tarnished reputation as a black sheep of their discography; in some circles Monster is regarded as a derivative grasp at "grunge", a crass deviation from their classic sound that reached into a cookie jar it had no business with. Is it derivative? Sure, a little; but, in the context of the band's career, Monster makes a lot of sense.  On their eight previous LPs, R.E.M. had already covered a lot of ground, from their beginnings as scrappy "college rock" vanguards to their mastery of the intelligent Americana from 1992's Automatic For The People (still hailed by a majority as not only their finest album but one of the all time greats). Following up such a substantial commercial and critical success was a game they couldn't possibly win; they were bound to face an undue amount of scrutiny no matter where they took their sound.  That they took it to such a comparati

Who could have predicted a decade ago that Death From Above 1979's debut album, the spiky electro-fuzz dance punk platter You're A Woman, I'm A Machine , would go on to become one of the aughts' most highly regarded albums? Probably the same percentage of folks who could have predicted that, until now, it would be their only studio album. After a few tumultuous years and some remix action, DFA79 took a half decade off before a tentative reunion three years ago that has finally gone full-blown with the release of sophomore effort The Physical World . It's virtually impossible for human beings to go ten years without maturing, and The Physical World can't help but excise some of the young, hungry energy and manic attack of YAWIAM ; hooks here are sharper, the overall sound more refined. It's really only problematic if you actually believe Sebastien Grainger and Jesse F. Keeler were put into cryostasis, which (sorry, Terminator fans) they were not. The res

If it feels like it's been longer than a decade since the release of a new album from The Tea Party, you're forgiven; previous studio LP Seven Circles is all but forgotten by all but hardcore fans (lead single Writing's On The Wall , in addition to being prophetic for the band at the time, failed to make much of a lasting impact alongside their biggest and brightest successes). In fact, there are a lot of folks for whom everything became a bit of a blur after the band started dabbling with keyboards on fourth album Transmission back in '97. And yet, here we are, a decade removed from the last blast of new tunes with The Ocean At The End , album number eight for a band looking to reclaim some of the glory that faded at home so long ago (in Australia, they've always been adored). With that said, The Ocean At The End is a hard record to judge properly from a longtime fan's perspective. On the surface, it does everything right; the wild array of instrumentatio

I don't know of many bands, Canadian or otherwise, who have crafted such an unassuming yet shockingly rewarding career as Sloan. To the outsider, they've coasted along for twenty plus years on the goodwill from their early "new Nirvana" hype and the handful of radio hits of the '90s, but closer inspection yields an embarrassment of riches in terms of just how many great songs they've penned. It is, admittedly, a little easier to maintain this kind of quality when all four band members are capable of writing terrific songs, as they've been prone to remind us several times over the course of their discography. In the past, the four songwriter approach as often led to somewhat disjointed albums; one needs look no further than 2006's Never Hear The End Of It . While that album has some fantastic tracks, they're buried under an avalanche of ideas, the album's daunting 30 tracks falling over each other in an aural dogpile. They condensed the approa

The word "comeback" tends to get thrown around willy nilly amongst music critics; it seems all it takes is for one small pocket of society to forget about an artist for five minutes to qualify them for comeback status. And yet, it really does seem to fit Interpol as they release El Pintor , their fifth album and first in four years. In addition to being their first without original bassist Carlos D, it's also following a couple of overall disappointments, 2010's self titled album and 2007's Our Love To Admire ; those weren't terrible albums by any stretch, but they were far less engaging than their indomitable first two records, 2002's Turn On The Bright Lights and 2004's Antics . All of this means it's pretty much been a decade since the masses were really excited about an Interpol album, and El Pintor 's lead single gave plenty of reason for excitement. All The Rage Back Home , a slow starter that turns into a relentless, nimble rocker, im