Merge Indierock | Alternative 145 Items

On 9 August, 2024, Merge Records reissues David Kilgour's A Feather in theEngine, remastered and pressed on vinyl for the very first time. Originallyreleased in 2002, A Feather in the Engine followed two full-bandefforts_1997's David Kilgour & the Heavy Eights and The Clean's 2001 albumGetaway_and is thus almost startling in its intimacy.Recorded at home and mostly alone (The Verlaines' Graeme Downesprovides lush string arrangements), Kilgour once called A Feather in theEngine "the most solo LP I've made." Interpolating his genius for guitar popthrough acoustic guitars and gorgeous instrumentals, its melodies unfoldgently, suggesting that the 13 songs here, written over the course of fouryears, were searching Kilgour as much as he was searching them.The dichotomy between A Feather in the Engine's pop songs and instrumentalsfascinates the ear, drawing the listener closer and closer to Kilgour's virtuosicguitar playing when his lyrics aren't imparting his breezy charm. The depthof style he achieves_the psych pop of "Today IsGonna Be Mine," the Velvet Underground-esque churn of "All the Rest,"the chamber folk of "The Perfect Watch"_is daunting; listening to it now,every song feels capable of generating a dozen playlists, or like the spawningpoint of a new microgenre.Perhaps anomalous upon release, it's A Feather in the Engine's instrumentalsthat feel weightiest in this regard now. "Sept. 98" and "Backwards Forwards,"respectively the opening and closing tracks of the album, are elegant,pastoral epics that call out into the yawning expanse, presaging the simmeringambient country of William Tyler and SUSS, while "Instra 2" pushes outthe boundaries of Eastern-influenced psychedelia.Lovingly remastered (and in some cases remixed) from the original tapes byTom Bell at Port Chalmers Recording Services, the vinyl reissue of A Featherin the Engine is a crucial opportunity to rediscover one of David Kilgour'sbest records, a handcrafted gem that perfects guitar pop's p...

Originally released in October 2000, The C...

Jade Hairpins waste no time fulfilling their second album's titular demand. From itsharmony-drenched opening note to its baroque-anthemic conclusion, Get Me the GoodStuff is positively loaded with musical ideas, an absurdist buffet of sound andaesthetic that comes with one hell of a floorshow as the Hairpins stack thoseideas higher and higher, almost daring them to crash to the floor. Instead, thoseelements_punksploitation, power pop, baggy, funk, and Italo disco are just sometouchstones_are not only held aloft, they defy gravity and convention.These pyrotechnics are, in true Jade Hairpins fashion, something of a sleight ofhand. While the music swaggers and gallops, Get Me the Good Stuff grapples withanxiety and self-doubt, obfuscating pain and alienation with sparkling wit and somestraight-up ravers. Get Me the Good Stuff opens with one of those, "Let It Be Me," inwhich Jonah Falco shouts lyrics about being alone with one's shortcomings againstguitars, synths, and harmonized vocals that are on the verge of closing in. The songis just over 90 seconds long, hitting with the gnarled-barb ferocity of punk and thegleeful insanity of theatrical art rock.It is, in other words, overwhelming. Or it would be if Jade Hairpins_Jonah Falcoand Mike Haliechuk_weren't remarkably nimble in their ability to bring unity tosounds by placing them in competition against each other. When those sounds areadjacent, like the glam and disco that saturate "Drifting Superstition," the thrill ofthose universes colliding in the heat of an absolutely filthy clavichord line turns itslyrics, about the habit of solving personal problems by ignoring them, into a winner'santhem on the order of Bowie or Hot Chocolate.Get Me the Good Stuff arcs towards unequivocal joy as Falco, Jade Hairpins' primarylyricist, breaks these cycles and attempts to run away with his dreams. The arc isroughly analogous to how the album came to fruition. Four years removed fromHarmony Avenue, an album of material that pr...

"Look to the East, Look to the West", das neue Album von Camera Obscura, ist eine Offenbarung. Die von Tracyanne Campbell geleitete Band hat sich wieder mit dem Produzenten Jari Haapalainen zusammengetan und ein Album geschaffen, das daran erinnert, warum die langjährigen Fans sie seit Jahrzehnten heiß und innig lieben, und das gleichzeitig ihr bisher anspruchsvollstes Werk ist. Es ist auch das am härtesten umkämpfte Album in der Karriere von Camera Obscura. Nach dem Tod von Gründungsmitglied, Keyboarder und Freund Carey Lander im Jahr 2015 (an den der vorletzte Track "Sugar Almond" gerichtet ist), ging die Band in eine längere Pause. Sie blieben in Kontakt, aber ihr Status war ungewiss. Nachdem sie eingeladen worden waren, im Rahmen von Belle & Sebastians Kreuzfahrtfestival Boaty Weekender 2019 aufzutreten, kündigten sie ihre Rückkehr an. Donna Maciocia (Keyboards und Gesang) stieß bei diesen Shows zu den Gründungsmitgliedern Kenny McKeeve (Gitarre und Gesang), Gavin Dunbar (Bass) und Lee Thomson (Schlagzeug und Perkussion) und ist seitdem Songwriting-Partnerin von Campbell. Aufgenommen im selben Raum, in dem Queen "Bohemian Rhapsody" schrieb, fühlt sich "Look to the East, Look to the West" groß an, eine Breitwand-Neuinterpretation des Camera Obscura-Sounds, bei der die Band paradoxerweise zu den Grundlagen zurückkehrte - es gibt keine Streicher- oder Bläserarrangements, der Schwerpunkt liegt auf Klavier, Synthesizern, Hammond-Orgel und Drumcomputern, und, was vielleicht am auffälligsten ist, die Gruppe hat den Hallschleier fallen lassen, der ihre früheren Alben charakterisierte. Der Hauch von Country und Soul, der Camera Obscuras barocke Interpretation von Popmusik so bittersüß macht, war noch nie so offensichtlich - die Gitarren schimmern in die Ferne, die Tasten spuken, und Campbells Stimme sucht nach dem Herzen, reflektiert über Liebe, Verlust und den Lauf der Zeit. "Look to the East, Look to the West" ist Camera Obscura in seiner besten und eindrucksvollsten Form, ein Album, das den emotionalen Kern des Hörers völlig neu ordnet und ihn gleichzeitig traurig und beschwingt zurücklässt. Der Katalog von Camera Obscura ist voll von Liedern, die Menschen als lebensverändernd bezeichnen, Lieder, die sie ihr ganzes Leben lang begleiten werden. "Look to the East, Look to the West" hat 11 davon zu bieten.

Pink vinyl. Includes original inner sleeve.

Limited edition silver vinyl anniversary reissue of the Magnetic Fields' classic 1999 rumination on, of course, love. Funny, smart, dark, memorable, and a lifetime's worth of listening. Stephin Merritt solidifies his songwriting genius on his "most ambitious and fully realized work". (amg) This vinyl reissue is remastered for vinyl and beautifully packaged in a 10" slipcase box with three double gatefold sleeves and a 24 page booklet!

"Look to the East, Look to the West", das neue Album von Camera Obscura, ist eine Offenbarung. Die von Tracyanne Campbell geleitete Band hat sich wieder mit dem Produzenten Jari Haapalainen zusammengetan und ein Album geschaffen, das daran erinnert, warum die langjährigen Fans sie seit Jahrzehnten heiß und innig lieben, und das gleichzeitig ihr bisher anspruchsvollstes Werk ist. Es ist auch das am härtesten umkämpfte Album in der Karriere von Camera Obscura. Nach dem Tod von Gründungsmitglied, Keyboarder und Freund Carey Lander im Jahr 2015 (an den der vorletzte Track "Sugar Almond" gerichtet ist), ging die Band in eine längere Pause. Sie blieben in Kontakt, aber ihr Status war ungewiss. Nachdem sie eingeladen worden waren, im Rahmen von Belle & Sebastians Kreuzfahrtfestival Boaty Weekender 2019 aufzutreten, kündigten sie ihre Rückkehr an. Donna Maciocia (Keyboards und Gesang) stieß bei diesen Shows zu den Gründungsmitgliedern Kenny McKeeve (Gitarre und Gesang), Gavin Dunbar (Bass) und Lee Thomson (Schlagzeug und Perkussion) und ist seitdem Songwriting-Partnerin von Campbell. Aufgenommen im selben Raum, in dem Queen "Bohemian Rhapsody" schrieb, fühlt sich "Look to the East, Look to the West" groß an, eine Breitwand-Neuinterpretation des Camera Obscura-Sounds, bei der die Band paradoxerweise zu den Grundlagen zurückkehrte - es gibt keine Streicher- oder Bläserarrangements, der Schwerpunkt liegt auf Klavier, Synthesizern, Hammond-Orgel und Drumcomputern, und, was vielleicht am auffälligsten ist, die Gruppe hat den Hallschleier fallen lassen, der ihre früheren Alben charakterisierte. Der Hauch von Country und Soul, der Camera Obscuras barocke Interpretation von Popmusik so bittersüß macht, war noch nie so offensichtlich - die Gitarren schimmern in die Ferne, die Tasten spuken, und Campbells Stimme sucht nach dem Herzen, reflektiert über Liebe, Verlust und den Lauf der Zeit. "Look to the East, Look to the West" ist Camera Obscura in seiner besten und eindrucksvollsten Form, ein Album, das den emotionalen Kern des Hörers völlig neu ordnet und ihn gleichzeitig traurig und beschwingt zurücklässt. Der Katalog von Camera Obscura ist voll von Liedern, die Menschen als lebensverändernd bezeichnen, Lieder, die sie ihr ganzes Leben lang begleiten werden. "Look to the East, Look to the West" hat 11 davon zu bieten.

Yellow in clear vinyl seems unplayed.
With booklet. "peak edition" limited to 3500 copies.

In 2014, Wye Oak released Shriek, their fourth album. It was a necessary departure for Jenn Wasner and Andy Stack, who found themselves on uncertain ground after two years of constant touring for 2011's Civilian, living on opposite ends of the country and trying to revitalize their creative partnership. Wasner set aside her guitar for a bass. Stack took on the band's upper register, playing syncopated, meditative keyboard parts that interacted with Wasner's voice, which was newly freed from its call-and-response relationship to the guitar - what had been, until then, a signature of Wye Oak's sound. "This idea and the ensuing creative reworking of our band did what it was meant to do," Wasner writes in 2024. "It ended a long, painful period of creative stagnancy and reconnected me with the joy of making music." During that period, Wasner and Stack were introduced to William Brittelle, the Brooklyn-based composer whose 2019 LP Spiritual America featured Wye Oak, the Metropolis Ensemble, and the Brooklyn Youth Chorus. His orchestral reimaginings of five songs from Shriek (Shriek: Variations, if you will) are the centerpiece of this package, which serves not only to mark the tenth anniversary of a great album, but to demonstrate the richness of Wye Oak's compositions. Stack says of Shriek: Variations: "It's like looking at the songs in a funhouse mirror. The songs on Shriek can be stripped down or embellished - this is maximal embellishment. William took the album and blew it to smithereens, looking at it in a weird, prismatic way." Through Brittelle, Wasner and Stack found themselves at the intersection of classical, experimental, and pop music. Further collaborations, like the Brooklyn Youth Chorus- featuring No Horizon and Paul and Michi Wiancko's string arrangements on "My Signal" from The Louder I Call, The Faster It Runs, followed, as this connection fundamentally changed the way Wye Oak approached making records, incorporating an entirely new palette of sound into their work. That shift began here. Shriek: Variations may feel like a startling take on the material, something like light bursting into a room through drawn curtains, but Brittelle's arrangements are largely original to his first collaborations with Wye Oak a decade ago, suggesting that his maximalist arrangements have lived comfortably within the framework of Shriek the whole time, waiting for the right moment to emerge. It's a fitting reintroduction to the album, which upon its initial release was pigeonholed into the easy one-note talking point of being the "no-guitar" record. But even so, as that happened, Shriek quietly started to become a staple among Wye Oak's core fans. Here, with help from Brittelle's expansive compositions, the release draws attention back to the songwriting - how, regardless of the instrumentation, Wasner and Stack's uncanny musicwriting partnership at the core is what makes both Shriek and Wye Oak excellent. Joined by the Metropolis Ensemble, Paul Wiancko, and Lizzie Burns, Wye Oak turn songs like "Logic of Color" inside out, reaching towards a kind of pastoral bombast, Brittelle's aesthetic with Wasner and Stack as an anchor. In fact, "Logic of Color" in this iteration takes that "no-guitar" script and flips it, with Wasner playing the synthesizer ostinato on acoustic guitar at its center. If Shriek is a record that charts the depths of solemnity and inner space, its Variations, roiling in a sea of winds, brass, and strings, recolors that space and complicates it, a gorgeous, unexpected response to the original's siren call.

It's hard to talk about Rosali's music. Songs that reach outward like this, but then constantly disarm with their intimacy. What do you call such inner searching that is hellbent on rollicking? Songs that long for a sense of peace and songs that want romance, all on equal footing in the same plot of earth? Performed wild, but always centered around the incredible lyrical calm that is Rosali's voice. Bite Down makes me think about singers and bands that throw themselves hard into the storm, the way the Rosali quartet does. (Jim captures the tone of this perfectly, again!) The calm of her voice over top of the band's raging - it is the emblem of songs that live to put themselves in harm's way. But it's not harm. It's just that you have to play hard to get at these goods. The calm of Rosali's voice, the straight talk of her inner search vs. the wildness of the band, the sonic storm she rides in on. That's their sound. The Mowed Sound. It's hard to talk about these last couple Rosali albums without talking about them. They play free and wild and relentlessly melodious. They rip and create space and fill it up with what seems like reckless abandon, but listen carefully or listen for a while and you'll find them paying real close attention to each other and exactly what the song demands. Maybe Fairport did this, maybe VU. It's a strange telepathic brew. Breezier songs like "On Tonight" and "Rewind" sound like they've fought their way to get to that sense of ease. Maybe that's the Mowed Sound "sound"_hard-won ease. Then add to that Ted Bois' patented Rhodes sleaze (see sinuous title track "Bite Down") steering the record into late-night corners; the incredible "Hills on Fire" (maybe the centerpiece of the album), the guitar-ripping and the singing taking turns in reaching new levels of intimacy. It feels listened-in on, exposed and invented on the spot. It is also simply a staggeringly beautiful song. There are a few of those on the album. In contrast, "My Kind" is a raucous, hand-delivered classic; the band throws tables over. For the most part, this is a moodier record than No Medium. It has the same sound of "I've traveled through fire to deliver you these songs," but it is also quieter, more nocturnal. The quiet dread of staring down an open road, and the excitement of that. By the final track, "May It Be on Offer," it is the prayer uttered as you hand yourself over to the world.” - Dan Bejar (of Destroyer)

It's hard to talk about Rosali's music. Songs that reach outward like this, but then constantly disarm with their intimacy. What do you call such inner searching that is hellbent on rollicking? Songs that long for a sense of peace and songs that want romance, all on equal footing in the same plot of earth? Performed wild, but always centered around the incredible lyrical calm that is Rosali's voice. Bite Down makes me think about singers and bands that throw themselves hard into the storm, the way the Rosali quartet does. (Jim captures the tone of this perfectly, again!) The calm of her voice over top of the band's raging - it is the emblem of songs that live to put themselves in harm's way. But it's not harm. It's just that you have to play hard to get at these goods. The calm of Rosali's voice, the straight talk of her inner search vs. the wildness of the band, the sonic storm she rides in on. That's their sound. The Mowed Sound. It's hard to talk about these last couple Rosali albums without talking about them. They play free and wild and relentlessly melodious. They rip and create space and fill it up with what seems like reckless abandon, but listen carefully or listen for a while and you'll find them paying real close attention to each other and exactly what the song demands. Maybe Fairport did this, maybe VU. It's a strange telepathic brew. Breezier songs like "On Tonight" and "Rewind" sound like they've fought their way to get to that sense of ease. Maybe that's the Mowed Sound "sound"_hard-won ease. Then add to that Ted Bois' patented Rhodes sleaze (see sinuous title track "Bite Down") steering the record into late-night corners; the incredible "Hills on Fire" (maybe the centerpiece of the album), the guitar-ripping and the singing taking turns in reaching new levels of intimacy. It feels listened-in on, exposed and invented on the spot. It is also simply a staggeringly beautiful song. There are a few of those on the album. In contrast, "My Kind" is a raucous, hand-delivered classic; the band throws tables over. For the most part, this is a moodier record than No Medium. It has the same sound of "I've traveled through fire to deliver you these songs," but it is also quieter, more nocturnal. The quiet dread of staring down an open road, and the excitement of that. By the final track, "May It Be on Offer," it is the prayer uttered as you hand yourself over to the world.” - Dan Bejar (of Destroyer)

Transistor Radio:the fourth M. Ward album. Listening to M. Ward's breezy ode toradio's forgotten heydays is a lot like taking in a huge breath of dust-bowl wind --however, its charms are rooted in the hazy lemonade-sipping of summer rather thanthe great depression-obsession of the post-O Brother, Where Art Thou? mainstream.

Post-War: the fifth M. Ward album. Its songs unravel their world-wearied tales of life, love, and human kindness with an innate and special grace, helped in part by the very talented friends who join him on this record, such as Neko Case and Mike Mogis, as well as old Monsters of Folk touring buddy Jim James (My Morning Jacket).

In 2003, everything broke open for Ward with the release of Transfiguration of Vincent. Critically lauded and long beloved, Pitchfork hailed it as an album that “broadcasts timelessness and defies genre constraints,” and Slant placed it on their list of the best albums of the 2000s. On Transfiguration of Vincent, Ward’s elegant fingerpicking, evocative croon, and heartrending lyricism came into full bloom, casting a spell so powerful that even a song as universal as David Bowie’s “Let’s Dance” felt not only new but irrevocably his. One of the most cherished albums in the Merge catalog, Transfiguration of Vin- cent is both a great place to begin your love affair with M. Ward and a deep, stunningly realized work that listeners have returned to over and over again for 20 years.

Duet for Guitars #2 introduced us to M. Ward's characteristic rasp andfingerpicking prowess. More minimal in scope than future records, the songsrun the gamut from lullabies to rocking declarations of love. Released onCo-Dependent Records in 1999, one of the initial 1,000 copies found its wayto Howe Gelb, who re-released it in 2000 on Ow Om. It went out of print andremained a hard-to-find piece of the M. Ward catalog until 2007, when it wasreissued on Merge with three new tracks. More than an origin story, Duet forGuitars #2 is a beautiful, assured album that is sure to make lo-fi andAmericana aficionados swoon, to say nothing of M. Ward fans new and old.

In 2003, everything broke open for Ward with the release of Transfiguration of Vincent. Critically lauded and long beloved, Pitchfork hailed it as an album that “broadcasts timelessness and defies genre constraints,” and Slant placed it on their list of the best albums of the 2000s. On Transfiguration of Vincent, Ward’s elegant fingerpicking, evocative croon, and heartrending lyricism came into full bloom, casting a spell so powerful that even a song as universal as David Bowie’s “Let’s Dance” felt not only new but irrevocably his. One of the most cherished albums in the Merge catalog, Transfiguration of Vin- cent is both a great place to begin your love affair with M. Ward and a deep, stunningly realized work that listeners have returned to over and over again for 20 years.

What I can say about Torres is I think the music comes from a convicted place. Not convicted meaning a person is narrowly and foolishly committed to an ideal, or unshakably convinced of themselves, or a zealot, or stubborn. I mean dedicated, I mean: If Torres' music gets weird, gets brainy, gets funny, gets defiant, provokes, deliberately scandalizes, employs the crass to undermine the austere, courts lofty philosophical truth-it's all done with the conviction of an artist with the (essential) belief in the worth of their task. I think you can hear it in the songs, someone reaching, leaning over the boundary between known and not, probing the almighty. After a decade and six studio albums and however many one-offs and tours and articles read and conversations had, the parts of this pursuit I've been able to observe are all marked by a dedication to creation that treats the act-ongoing-with as much preciousness as the evidence of the act that is left in a record. The modes of being are different: heartbroken, broke, furious (right- and unrighteously), awestruck by love, compelled by desire. sometimes resigned to death, sometimes fascinated by and reverent of the future. Sometimes viscerally present, other times suspended in heady awareness, poised on a fulcrum of observation and participation in the phenomenon that aliveness is. The tools are the same: instruments that growl and shriek and moan, a lyrical voice shouting, swooning, chuckling, snarling as the moment commands. Torres' music-making is conducted in a melodic vocabulary unique to itself-methods, equipment, circumstances shifting around the impulse to affirm the self within the world, to make art that bears all these little artifacts of the divine and of the real and show it to people and know it is valuable. I think that's what Mackenzie's music does. And I think it's just incredibly good music to listen to. -Julien Baker Torres is the pseudonym of Mackenzie Scott. She was born January 23, 1991, and lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her wife Jenna, stepson Silas, and puppy Sylvia. She has been releasing albums and performing as Torres since 2013. What an enormous room is Torres' sixth studio album (her third with Merge). It was recorded in September and October 2022 at Stadium Heights Sound in Durham, North Carolina. It was engineered by Ryan Pickett, produced by Mackenzie Scott and Sarah Jaffe, mixed by TJ Allen in Bristol, UK, and mastered by Heba Kadry in NYC. The album contains 10 songs. Mackenzie wrote all of them. Sarah played bass guitar, synths, drums, organ, and piano. Mackenzie sang vocals, played guitar, bass, synths, organ, piano, and programmed drums. Additional synth bass, tambourine, and shakers were played by TJ Allen.

Complete box.

Cover is close to NM! Copy is still in shrink!