Time to cut through the hype and hysteria for the latest crop of next big things and scenester darlings, and call it like it really is. Every week we cover the best and brightest of the musical world for you, and now we're switching tracks to meet the lame-train head-on and take the biggest sonic offenders to task.
Wolfmother
Remember that song "Woman" from a couple years ago? Be thankful if you don't. Despite an onslaught of media hype suggesting otherwise, this hyperderivative band - and their new album, Cosmic Egg - is headed for the trash heap of mediocrity and failed rawk revolution. Prime festival placement and relentless marketing won't save this band, who are only recognizable at this point because their singer's hair looks like an electrocuted mound of pubes, and because lesser music sites don't have the balls to call bullshit on this completely unoriginal '70s rock throwback. Ultimately, Mike Patton said it best.
Passion Pit
This band is pure buttspray. Passion Pit doesn’t really write songs so much as string together lame hipster clichés over a steady beat. With a name built for cross-promotional appearances on pseudo-reality shows featuring post-teen consumer-culture parasites, Passion Pit push the boundaries of violence instigation through sound as a concept - and that's long before you even get to the vocals, which consist of ridiculous falsettos seemingly designed for the sole purpose of enraging the listener.
Grizzly Bear
Precious darlings of the indie "rock" scene (though there's nothing even remotely "rock" about them), Grizzly Bear's existence is a celebration of banality and soulless "experimentation". Jay-Z and Radiohead may have offered their seal approval, but bland honky meandering does not make a groundbreaking band, regardless of hype and music-blog delusion. Finding a sonic home between a Danny Elfman film score and Brian Wilson's worst self-indulgent nonsense isn't our definition of genius. Don't buy into this baseless hype.
White Lies
When even Pitchfork isn't buying into your schtick, you know you're in trouble. This 80s-influenced dance rock has no authentic flair, no original angles to throw into the expired-scene-mining formula. The UK scene used to be home to Joy Division and The Clash and Jesus and Mary Chain (ok, they were Scottish). Now they've got White Lies and their infinite identical counterparts to carry the torch. Let's just stab out our eardrums and call it a day.
Glasvegas
There was a short hype burst over these guys a few months ago, when someone decided to put money behind a promo campaign to create a presence for them in the States. But whiny "anthemic shoegazing" with a Scottish accent wears thin quickly among the yankee herds, and the tide is already pulling way back on Glasvegas. You'll never be able to name a song of theirs, and that's a gentle mercy on us all.
LMFAO
LMFAO are comprised of two men that go by Redfoo and Sky Blu. Make of that what you will, but these high-profile electro-hoppers cornered the summer market on geographical hits with "I'm In Miami Bitch," celebrating the free-flowing STDs with lyrical gemstones such as: Flash your titties/they need an excuse to suck our c*cks/I am not a whore but I like to do it... and so on. But glittered misogyny was so 2008. Where were these guys when R. Kelly was pissing on 13 year olds? Either way, over-the-top douche-party remix jams posing as avant-garde is not good music.
Little Boots
This is indie? Victoria Hesketh, who was eliminated in round three of UK's "Pop Idol," has been repackaged and is now a feature "cool" player in indie rock land, thanks to her seventies dance-pop with overtones of indie (cheap) production. If you hadn't noticed by now, the term "indie" is now as flexible and frequent as Lindsay Lohan's narcotic appetite.
Hesketh said the following about her album art: “I deconstructed my album artwork: what does this mean, what messages are people going to get? And they’re like, look, we just want something colorful where you look nice,” she says. “I’m like, but what is this saying? I think that’s why I embrace pop music, you can see all these levels in it.”
Looks to me like Stevie Nicks crammed an 8-ball and a disco ball into a blender and force-fed the glittery concoction to a graphic designer. How many levels can you find?
Dirty Projectors
I could explain these pretentious posturing pricks away, but in this case I think a picture tells a thousand indie douchebag tales:
Ironic anti-cool just doesn't work anymore. Stereogum called their sound "fractured pop-opuses" - and five albums in, that may not be far off - but the term certainly lends itself to favorability, which is an unwise choice here. More like pop pus oozing from the unhealed fractures of musical ideas that may have begun with promise, but ended up shitting the bed.
Bon Iver
Well, these guys might be okay. I’d resisted the band previously, for no particular reason other than that their name sounds like it came from a hipster indie-band-name generator, but resistance gave way to awe when I saw them live recently, as they harmonized their way through a gorgeous lineup of downtempo songs that were perfectly fitting for the torrential downpour drowning the adoring crowd. The name, which I was reminded several times at the show, is pronounced “Bon Heeve-air,” a twist on "bon hiver," which is French for “good winter.” The delicate beauty of their set was largely respected by the massive crowd, who remained silent until the end of each song, at which point they collectively screamed their appreciative hearts out. There's a depth of heart and passion to this act, and with any luck they won't get sucked into the receding tide of bands in the same vein but not nearly as qualified for our ears.
