By Reed Fischer
By Anna Gulbrandsen
By Jeff Gage
By Stacy Schwartz
By Natalie Gallagher
By Erik Thompson
By Jeff Gage
By Loren Green
Frontman John Fell Ryan exclaims, "Death by LP!" Later, auxiliary vocalists Lala Ryan and Clare Amory chime in with "Turn the body over!" among other random ad-libs. So maybe he's Fred Schnieder to their Cindy Wilson and Kate Pierson, as this NYC fractal-tronic party band pretends to be the B-52s. I guess that makes multi-instrumentalist Nathan Corbin—he of the sick low-end, not to mention a lot of other compromised instrumental flotsam—the Keith Strickland figure.
JET LAG GEMINI
Up-and-coming emo bands with dreams of Alternative Press cover shoots could do worse than to emulate Fall Out Boy's jeering brand of quasi-transparent "punk," and there's little question as to who these turbo-charged New Jersey dudes look up to. For now, they (rightly) imagine themselves diagnosed with terminal cleverness; with any luck, fortune will propel them to more tabloid-level plaints in the near future.
The 1980s are back—again—as this Spike Lee-obsessed rap duo wax poetic about children's bikes, hustling, babes, and MacGyver over starkly basic, repetitive beats, like mini-Rakims.
AIDAN JOHN MOFFAT
"Nothing in Common/Hopelessly Devoted"
The dissolution of overly confessional Scottish duo Arab Strap has done little to slow the roll of its singer/lyricist, who's moved on to solo work that hits home just as hard. Moffat's search for common ground with a new bird leads him to wonder if Grease's principals eventually soldiered on or crapped out.
"Put Your Hands on Me"
Between Stone—who's got the chops but somehow gets my neck up just by existing—and Amy Winehouse, white female pop songbird-hood is transforming into some kind of retro/emotional athleticism contest. Lame!
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