TV on the Radio, Dear Science.
Yes, The Tunnel Walk offered a brief review of this Brooklyn band's latest release, but it deserves a second look. This album is what I like to call a grower. It has the wonderful quality to be able to be played straight through like a delicious three course meal. Sure, the meal may be prepared by some wack-job chef that's too cool for Top Chef, but it's still something you've got to try. Critics have called it art-rock and I guess I'm not completely sure of what that means. Tunde Adebimpe and Kyp Malone's vocals are a little spooky, but smart--like Vincent Price or Alfred Hitchcock. This album is like a great mix tape or playlist, weaving between rocking your face off and rocking you to sleep.


In a follow up to her other band Rilo Kiley's underrated album, Under the Blacklight, Lewis continues to establish herself as a musical Babraham Lincoln. She's funny and crass--like a twangy Liz Phair circa Exile in Guyville. While she doesn't have the help of the Watson Twins on this album, she does recruit some suitable replacements in Elvis Costello, Chris Robinson, Zooey Deschanel, and newcomer Benji Hughes. She doesn't veer too far from the recipe that made Rabbit Fur Coat tasty on the ear buds, sticking to a lot of simple guitar arangements. However, on my personal favorite, Jack Killed Mom, Lewis and Co. break out a little revivalist gospel. Good stuff.

As liberal as I am, I hate hippies. Mainly the patchouli. But also dirty hippies like Deadheads. The first I listened to from Blitzen Trapper (2007's, Wild Mountain Nation) sounded like something that an Oregon band would produce and Deadheads would really like to listen to while they sell their organic PB&Js in the parking lots before Dave Matthews and Widespread Panic concerts. I was more than a bit cautious when I previewed this one. What I found was more melodic than marijuanic. More tuneful than trippy. And it's not even extremely laid back. There are a few numbers that are single worthy and playlist worthy.