Universal Audio

The Delgados

(Chemikal Underground Records / Transdreamer Records)

The voices on Universal Audio—the light, airy voice of a girl alternating with the melodic voice of a guy—might remind audiences a little of Belle and Sebastian, but for people wary of the precocity of B&S, The Delgados offer a much more driving alternative: Lean chords paired with swelling choruses are backed by adequate, but controlled, production, the result of which is a CD of smart pop. Although the Delgados have previously ventured into the layered terrain of orchestral pop, their new work is a study in how to construct a three-minute, self-contained piece of pop for the masses.

Guitarist Emma Pollock’s vocals are neither precious nor overwrought; she sings with a straightforward style that fits well with the music, which is fairly simple without seeming watered-down. She has a few moments of transparent beauty on “Come Undone” and “The City Consumes Us,” the latter a song that frames her lilting voice with arpeggios to fit the slightly melancholy mood. Although Pollock sometimes affects (whether consciously or unconsciously) Nina Persson of the Cardigans, and although she is by no means an amazing vocalist, it’s comforting to note that she doesn’t try too hard in extending her voice or her credibility.

Guitarist Alun Woodward has a few moments of soaring vocals recalling Scotland’s other pop music export, Travis, but The Delgados never wander into their shoegazing territory. The album’s two strongest songs, Woodward’s “Is This All That I Came For?” and Pollock’s “Everybody Come Down” run back to back, a choice that does much to remind listeners of good ol’ pop—singable, hummable and, most of all, with just a touch of sadness not ruining the fun.

—M. Patricia Li

Saul Williams

Saul Williams

(Fader Label)

When Saul Williams last graced us with his words, in the form of the glorious epic poem, “, said the shotgun to the head,” he gamely disproved the notion that black male artists are nothing without their masculinity.

“i am a simple disoriented man in her presence,” Williams wrote in one particularly honest passage, “i wear my loincloth over my eyes and ejaculate too soon.” And in stirring renditions of the poem at the Paradise Rock Club and here at Harvard last year, Williams performed what amounted to a public emasculation. “The truth erupts from her core,” Williams cried, and his audience could only agree. Now, Saul Williams wants his penis back.

His latest work, a self-titled album featuring a hip-hop potpourri of spoken word and rap, dismisses the feminine mystique that has pervaded all his previous efforts, including his first album, Amethyst Rock Star, and an earlier epic poem, “she.” Williams begins the new disc with what could only be described as a startling reclamation of his masculinity. “I ain’t got proper diction for the makings of a thug,” he tell us, not quite ironically, “though I grew up in the ghetto and my niggers all sell drugs.” It’s a jarring and crude departure from his past work, exacerbated by the uninspired samples which ride aimlessly in the background of his spoken word.

Still, Williams reminds us briefly of what a brilliant artist he can be with the probing words and beat of “Black Stacey,” one of many melodic tracks on the album. And in “Telegram,” Williams puts forth a cunning observation: “Hip-hop is lying on the side of the road, half-dead to itself, blood scrawled over its mangled flesh, like jazz.” It’s all the more surprising, then, that Williams has chosen to align himself with such a dead genre.

—Zachary M. Seward

Exhibit A

The Features

(Universal)

Out of a scarcely known Tennessee ghost town hid beneath the mountains rocks The Features, who’ve recently released their first full length album, Exhibit A, on Universal sub-label Temptation. At age 13, with nothing else to do, three of the band’s current four members turned to music and formed the band that is finally gaining the recognition they deserve. At less than 33 minutes long, the CD might just be too short to contain all the rock. Characterized by driving distorted guitar riffs, howling vocals and the old-school background subtleties of the electric organ, the Features cast themselves into the ranks of the Strokes and Jet. Highlights include the disc’s fourth track, “Blow Out,” that opens with a Weezer-esque upbeat chord progression beneath a few bars of catchy background vocals. Its elated chorus, “If you’re happy and you know it turn the volume up and blow it out,” makes it difficult not to smile. Frontman Matt Pelham is also not afraid to showcase his personal side. with the love song lyrics of “The Idea of Growing Old,” is a love song written about his kids. While they aren’t as bad-ass or original as Franz Ferdinand and most of the songs follow a pretty standard formula, The Features find their own sound in rock n’ roll in a time when most bands struggle to. With Exhibit A, The Features prove it’s no coincidence that they came from that regional soul of music, the state of Tennessee.

—Zachary M. Seward

Antics

Interpol

(Matador)

With their second full-length album Antics, Interpol beat the sophomore jinx and begin to lay down roots as an indie institution. The New York quartet builds on the success of its debut, Turn on the Bright Lights, expanding musically while remaining faithful to the viscous, subversive recipe that won them critical acclaim in the first place. The new record finds the young band charged with composure and confidence, equipped with a welcome infusion of melodic complexity.

Interpol recorded the new LP in an attic, a fact reflected in the claustrophobic underpinnings of each song. The murky, atmospheric production of their first album has been revived here, but the sound is warmer, and the band is more self-assured. The rhythm section has solidified, tighter and bolder now after long months playing together on tour. Drummer Sam Fogarino and bassist Carlos D lock into a groove right away and stretch it out easily for the course of a song. The often danceable bass lines add satisfying counterpoint to the darker, choppier guitar licks layered on top. Guitarists Daniel Kessler and Paul Banks let their sound intertwine, ringing out with Clash flavor, flirting with Carlos D’s tasteful keyboard additions (he plays keyboard too) and pushing against each other, always rooted by the bass.

The song “Narc” demonstrates the effectiveness of this layering technique: Beginning only with an angular guitar line, the song jumps to life with the sudden arrival of a surging bass line and steady backbeat. Interpol has a new swagger, is more direct and present. Banks’ familiar drone, tired but on pitch, remains an ideal complement for the shadowy sound his band churns out. The vocal melodies are catchy and diverse. The final product is more organic and less distant than the debut.

Lyrically, Banks sticks to what he knows. Themes of abandonment and ambiguous malaise still mingle melodramatically with weird, sometimes grotesque imagery. The prechorus of the first single, “Slow Hands,” covers much of the lyrical landscape: “Can’t you see what you’ve done to my heart and soul?/This is a wasteland now.” The chorus of the tense, agitated “Length of Love” is the odd mantra, “Combat salacious removal.” And the closer, “A Time to Be So Small,” has something about a “cadaverous mob.” The lyrics rarely drive the songs here, and are often difficult to decipher; Banks derives his authority as a singer less from the power of his words than from the uniquely disengaged brand of affliction that comes out of his throat.

The importance of this second release, the litmus test for staying power in the record industry, has no doubt weighed heavily on the band members, whose debut inspired such acute hyperventilation among indie rags. Fortunately, neither the watchful eyes of hipster nation nor the inflated anticipation for their follow-up have knocked Interpol off course. Unintimidated, the band appears to reassert its artistic and commercial ambitions bluntly in the album’s very first line: “We ain’t going to the town/We’re going to the city.” Antics finds the four young men just hitting their stride as a unit, knowing now what they do well and sharing an idea of where they want to go. Interpol are allowing themselves to grow naturally into their sound, gradually introducing richer shades of gray into their cloudy creations. Their patience—and ours—will pay off. Antics is a strong second step in a career full of promise.

--—William B. Higgins