Would you believe...an update?

BY WHAT MEANS OF SORCERY IS THIS?!

The means, I can assure you, came at a crack in my schedule. For the most part, law school has you mortgage ALL of your blogging time to talk about things like consideration, in personam personal jurisdiction, and mens rea. However, that doesn’t mean my jukebox has stayed silent. Consider this a piecemeal run down of my past few months of listening. Enjoy!

blink-182: Neighborhoods (****½): It may not be Tom, Mark, and Travis’ finest hour, but it’s certainly an exciting homecoming. Picking up where their 2003 untitled record left off, Neighborhoods is the sound of three strong men letting their musical chemistry take them down some interesting avenues. The good news? It’s 100% a blink-182 record rather than an AVA or a +44 album. “Up All Night” soars with spazzy phasers and call-and-response vocals while the crashing pop-punk juggernauts of “Hearts All Gone” and “Natives” call to mind blink’s early roots. Though less spacious than their previous efforts, blink-182 has really explored groove this time around (The stompy, Cure-flavored “Snake Charmer”) while coloring their instantly recognizable hooks with some driving melodies and ringing snyths (“Ghost On The Dance Floor”). The deluxe edition is well worth the purchase, but the big draw here is how effortless it sounds for these men to play together again. It’s been a long 8 years, welcome back blink.

Jay-Z & Kanye West: Watch The Throne (***½): Distracted seems to be the name of the game on Watch The Throne, a jumbled amalgamation of buzzed out dubstep future soul that seems to have been constructed in a space ship run by No I.D. and Frank Ocean. It’d be a disaster if Yeezy wasn’t so charming as hip-hop’s class clown, but the slew of machismo-rap bravado he trades with Jay does the project a disservice. It mercilessly points out Jay’s age and seems forced from two rappers that never produced their best work in that vein. Still, with personalities this enticing, who needs depth? “Otis” make clever use of Otis Redding's chopped and skew vocal scats while the space thump of “No Church In The Wild” is as elegant as it is hefty. A lot of hype went into Watch The Throne, too bad it felt a bit out of character for Jay and Ye’s kingdom.

The Horrible Crowes- Elsie (****½): Don’t you miss it when albums carried that live pub feeling, the singer barely able to croak into the microphone? So did The Gaslight Anthem’s Brian Fallon, which is why he wrote Elsie alongside good friend Ian Perkins. Somber, spacious, and world weary, Elsie is a throwback to when music hinged on subdued theatrics and cigarette breaks. “Sugar” features Fallon at his most confessional, set against nimble acoustics and thunderstorm drums in the distance. Elsewhere, “I Witnessed A Crime” throws in some slide guitar sigh, while “Cherry Blossom” rests on rattled whispers. A touch of old amplifier crunch here, a Tom Wait yowl there, and you’ve got a collection of songs that aim to bring people together instead of pull them apart. It’s bar music, nighttime music, proud to be alive music.

Sainthood Reps- Monoculture (****): Someone call Derrick Sherman because 1994 wants its buzzsaw swagger back. Falling somewhere in between In Utero-Era Nirvana and the chiming atmospherics of Alice In Chains’ balladeering, Monoculture is one jagged thrill ride. “DINGUS” exploits the epitome of slash and burn dynamics where the album’s meticulously crafted closer “Widow” balances swirling white noise shimmer with a hefty groove. Though the Brand New comparisons are unavoidable given Sherman’s musical connection, Monoculture is an album that blasts and gasps with it’s own rusty pulse. While many bands mine the 90s for nostalgia, Sainthood Reps mine them for a focus on atmosphere, resulting in a record that feels familiar and new all at the same time.

Saves The Day- Daybreak (**½): Even if Chris Conley is the last vestige of Saves The Day leftover from Through Being Cool, it’s hard for anyone to have imagined that Daybreak would be so…sedate. While the album’s title track tries to infused some multi-suite, moog flavored pop into Conley’s usual pop-punk blast, it feels a bit too cut and pasted. Overall, Daybreak seems too clean, too muted, as if someone filed off all the rough edges and macabre chic Conley crafted on Sound The Alarm. Cuts like the power-pop flavored “1984” should take off with a caffeine rush of energy rather than settle for “been-there-done-that.” Though the disc picks up with the twangy Weezer-like crunch of “O,” the obvious is clear: Uninspired artists make uninspiring music.

St. Vincent- Strange Mercy (****½): Armed with an arsenal of icy synthesizers and rubber band fuzz guitarwork. Annie Clark lays out all her enigmatic charms on Strange Mercy. “Cruel” features swelling Disney-esque strings, alongside jumpy keyboards, while “Cheerleader’s” gauzy ascent swirls around Clark’s dreamy register. While her past efforts had more of an orchestral leaning, Strange Mercy revels in bending the synthetic, balancing digital crunch and heave like “Dilettante” with the glowing minimalism of “Champagne Year.” There’s an underlying sense of dread lurking just beneath the surface of these songs, but like the best big bad wolves, Clark does a lot more showing than telling. Her breathy voice keeps it all together, part coy seductress, part violent angel, an engrossing blend of contradictions that makes Strange Mercy a monster release.

Thrice- Major/Minor (**½): Thrice needs help. A new direction, a new producer, ANYTHING. Everything about Major/Minor smacks of tired, whether it’s Dustin Kensrues’ strained timber or the group’s second “live-band-in-a-room” LP. Though the rough and tumble riffage on “Yellow Belly” starts the album on a high note, Thrice march through 10 more shades of modern rock gray, coupled with a flat mix. Ultimately, the disappointment stems from the fact that the group seems to be under performing, which has never been a hallmark of their output. If Beggars was expansive and wistful, Major/Minor is dry, cookie-cutter, and understated, the kiss of death for sonic chameleons like Thrice.