The tangles of silky pedal steel guitar; the insistent, childlike pulse of a tambourine; wafts of acoustic guitar strummed from a coffeehouse stool; the sonorous, gloriously stoned sound of a distant glockenspiel; the melodrama of a mournful violin; and above it all, the oft-imitated-never-replicated languorous, drawling croon...yup, there's no doubt about it, you're listening to Mazzy Star. Seasons of Your Day sounds remarkably consistent for an album recorded in spats of spare time -- and in three different countries -- from 1997 to 2012. Like My Bloody Valentine (whose drummer, Colm O Cíosóig, plays bass in this newest configuration of Mazzy Star), Hope Sandoval and David Roback seem to have zoned out while the rest of us lived through the fourth dimension; listening to this new LP, it feels as if only a year has passed since Capitol was stamping out Among My Swan CDs.

As much as this band's sound has been strip-mined in recent years, Seasons of Your Day is a brilliant album, and proof that when it comes to cosmically twangy folk-rock, Sandoval and Roback reign supreme. Opener "In the Kingdom" is laidback as hell, unspooling blissfully thanks to Roback's shaggy electric guitar and Suki Ewers' light touch on the organ. Sandoval's voice is completely unchanged -- she still sounds like '75-'77 Stevie Nicks, the mournful balladeer with a gift for intoxicating intimacy. She and the band move elegantly between the blasted folk of "California" to the "Life's a Gas"-stylings of "I've Gotta Stop," pausing briefly at the beer-bottle slide guitar tune "Does Someone Have Your Baby Now" before sinking beautifully into the album's centerpiece, "Common Burn." The late, great Bert Jansch lends a sprightly hand to the hard twanging folk of "Spoon," and before the group swaggers into "Flying Low," a bluesy callback to Mazzy Star's more distorted origins as Opal, I was already shaking the first LP out of the gatefold. Like m b v, Seasons of Your Day is a surprising and welcome addition to a great band's renowned canon. [MS]

After releasing his first singles on the Hyperdub label, Manchester-based producer Sam Walton finally follows them up with his accomplished full-length debut, Beyond. The 22-year-old's tracks, handpicked for the album by Kode9, travel through several dance music sub-genres, yet remain rooted in grime and bass. As the opening Mary J. Blige sample suggests, there is "A song for yesterday, today, tomorrow, and beyond." Walton filters into his moving and shifting productions aesthetic touches and rhythms from house, techno, acid and garage to create a hybrid of styles, offering something fresh in the process. Yet despite the variety, there's a unified sonic vibe, and his use of chopped and looped R&B vocal samples runs throughout -- a lot of Adina Howard pitched and mutated into alien form. Every synthetic wash, bleep, thump, crunch, snap, slap or punch is molded to his purpose, yet the humanness is kept alive within the cyber world of sound he's created, as he keeps the rhythms fresh and bubbly and undeniably suited for the dance floor, not to mention a lil' ravey. His arrangements never seem to stagnate, and things are always moving within, demonstrating Walton's ear for snappy, vibrant beats. Like a mix of Fade to Mind/Night Slugs' glitchy R&B re-imaging, Andy Stott's thump-n-grind, and Chez Damier's soulful garage tracks, it's hard to pin down his sound and that's one of the refreshing ingredients on display here. Fans of the sampledelic side of producers like Kingdom, Kyle Hall, Funkineven, Acra, Addison Groove, or the funky side of EBM, the new school is in session and that Walton kid is definitely one to keep an eye on. [DG]

With nostalgia playing such a powerful role in pop music these days, as retro-sounding artists sit atop both the Billboard charts and the underground pig-pile, it's hard to get a grip on the role of innovation and forward motion in modern music. A great hook transcends style, but so many artists today base much of their appeal on a willful appropriation of bygone eras, from the recent resurgence of '90s indie-slacker cool to artists as diverse as Daft Punk and Robin Thicke dominating summer playlists by meticulously aping 1970s grooves. After making a name for herself as a side-woman in historically appreciative Vivian Girls and Dum Dum Girls, Frankie Rose set out on her own, and with last year's excellent Interstellar she found a satisfying synthesis of 1960s joyful innocence crossed with '80s shoegaze and Britpop, crafting a shimmering, melancholy sound that clicked with a large segment of the indie underground. Herein Wild doesn't so much pick up where the last one left off as pick up where Interstellar picked up, with a very similar songwriting and production aesthetic -- meaning, if you love Frankie Rose, you will find a lot to love here. Simple, powerful grooves, swooning guitar leads, light and lovely orchestration, and Rose's crystal-clear voice make for a breezy pop sound that is instantly engaging, hook-filled and equally joyful and melancholy. If you are looking for innovation, either within the ongoing evolution of popular music, or Rose's own catalog, you may be disappointed, but if you are looking for a great-sounding indie-pop album to languish in these last warm days of 2013, look no further. [JM]

Glasgow-based synthpop trio Chvrches released "Lies," arguably the strongest cut from their debut, to little acknowledgment in May of 2012. It was tense, cryptic, and heavy for a track of such a poppy nature, and it was not until the band's lighter and sweeter second single, "The Mother We Share," blew up later that year, that it became clear Chvrches were here to stay, with endless comparisons to the Knife and Purity Ring for the song's starry and glitchy charisma. These two songs revealed a great dichotomy for Chvrches' style: did the band create moody and bold ballads, or lighthearted and catchy hits? On The Bones of What You Believe, it's quite clear that they make both, all in a distinct and fresh manner. The glue to this agglomeration of dark and direct pop is undoubtedly lead vocalist Lauren Mayberry. Both sharp and airy, Mayberry's voice proves just as effective on emotional pleas like "Recover" and "Tether" as on all-out blip jams like "Gun." The melodies are unstoppable and never fall flat, especially on top of the impeccable synths and beats of co-operators Iain Cook and Martin Doherty. Frequently incorporating trendy "chopped and screwed" vocal cuts into the songs' construction, Cook and Doherty layer the support for Mayberry with unique pop sounds that ooze precocity. Ultimately, Chvrches' ability to push boundaries in indie pop while maintaining such strong magnetism sets them apart and ahead of the pack, and The Bones of What You Believe is a fun, exciting, and sparkling otherworldly gem in the realm of contemporary music. [MM]

Zachary Cale is a restless soul, and over the last several years he has released a varied set of songs, from the full-band swagger of 2011's Noise of Welcome to the refined acoustic balladry on this truly wonderful new LP. Cale makes timeless music, steeped in 1960s folk, but without a whiff of mimicry, always built around his effortless fingerpicked guitar and world-weary, soulful voice. If there is a modern analogue, it might be Kurt Vile's last couple of records, though Cale's singing has more Louisiana than Philly in the drawl (he relocated to Brooklyn from tiny Enon, LA a few years back), and his songwriting relies on a wistful dreaminess that is all his own. There is no pretense in Cale's music, and his meticulously detailed yet understated sound, relaxed but undeniably lush and embracing, have long made him a "musician's musician"; it's easy to get lost in the easy flow of his playing, and the quiet sway of his voice. Fans of the folk-pop icons of the early '70s, or more recent artists like Steve Gunn, fellow Louisiana native Dylan LeBlanc, or Vile, owe it to themselves to meet Zachary Cale, and Blue Rider is both a personal best and an instant classic. [JM]

Au Revoir Simone, the decade-old Brooklyn trio of Erika Forster, Annie Hart, and Heather D'Angelo, dive into the realms of dreamy pop on their fourth full-length, Move in Spectrums. Although the band has previously utilized the breathy vocals and hypnotizing keyboards of all three members in magical hits like "Another Likely Story" (from 2009's Still Night, Still Night), the foundations of their tunes usually sat around minimalistic electro-pop, sweet, concise, and clear. Sonically, the change here is evident from the get-go, as album opener "More Than" finds the women revisiting the '80s with simple dance beats, analog synths, and a breathy singsong melody that is hard to forget. Along with this nostalgic decoration, however, comes a very dreamlike aura, as heavy reverb and effects meet a carefully crafted and smooth groove. "Crazy" is equally as catchy as the opener, with the earworm chorus "Ooh you girls you drive me crazy," and even manages to layer some electric guitar into the mix, causing a more accessible and dance-inducing response than ever. "Somebody Who" has seductive and sultry vocals that linger in humid bass and simple drums, certainly one of the record's finer moments, the track is not one to miss. Au Revoir Simone have managed to both maintain their identity, but not be penned in by it, and it's great to hear some new music from the band. [MM]

Much like they did with Codeine, Numero Group gives a comprehensive look at a beloved indie world band with a new reissue series focusing on the complete works of Tumwater, Washington's Unwound. If you were around in the '90s and at all interested in the evolution of punk-based music, Unwound was unavoidable, unassailable, and undefeated by all except themselves. Their string of albums and singles for Kill Rock Stars represents one of the greatest arcs of post-punk expression that any decade will know, each subsequent record finding new ways to rile up and devastate a young, restless fan base, up through to the endgame, 2001's massive faceturn double-album Leaves Turn Inside You, and the group's subsequent breakup on the road following the events of 9/11. Only Fugazi made more of an impact in the circles which they entered and soon ran, in terms of the emotional release of their records and live performances. In the intervening years, Unwound's physical catalog had depleted, and the $3 7"s and $8 LPs you used to love skyrocketed in value on the secondary market. This is therefore a necessary corrective, giving buyers the chance to own expanded and remastered editions of the band's work.

This series actually began on Record Store Day, as Numero quietly issued a vinyl edition of a group called Giant Henry, the pre-Unwound band that had only been known to locals and tape traders. Fittingly, the next step blows open the seldom-heard early days of Unwound, when guitarist Justin Trosper, bassist Vern Rumsey and drummer Sara Lund were joined by vocalist Brandt Sandeno (who'd eventually step out of the spotlight and support the band in other ways, as well as in side project Worst Case Scenario). Only a handful of the songs from this era were released across a demo tape, 7"s on Gravity and Kill Rock Stars, and compilations; some were partially compiled on a self-titled LP on Punk in My Vitamins, which, like the rest of their albums, is long out of print. So this is a different Unwound than many of you got to know, one presumably steeped in whatever punk and college rock they could consume at this stage. Early tracks on Disc 1 skew towards early Dinosaur Jr and Screaming Trees as their sound begins to take shape. The material on Disc 2 shows what happened once hardcore became more of a defining influence, the band taking their woodchipper rock approach towards the directions hinted at by DC's Revolution Summer. It's like the gods dropped a Rites of Spring cassette in their boombox, and things progressed from there, when Sandeno got more comfortable with screaming. Disc 3 compiles live recordings and radio sessions from this era and are crucial to unlocking this earlier chapter of this quintessential band's full story. The first proper LP Fake Train was just around the corner, but without these songs, they might never have gotten there. Massively important historically and musically, Kid Is Gone is a serious re-evaluation of the band as embryo, and the rocket in which they would launch themselves into the psyches, back patches and hair dye of every young person who ever fell under their sway. [DM]

"Last Night at The"
"I Won't"

Coming off the Kim Deal-less Pixies reunion tour that just pulled through town and the shell-shocked realization that a pair of My Bloody Valentine tickets would cost as much as a week's worth of groceries, the arrival of the N'ere Dowells' debut LP is a refreshing reminder that rock and roll is still, at its essence, a young person's game. A couple of songs from this Brooklyn band began circulating on the internet late last year, and even out of those murky, oversaturated home-recordings poured forth a vibrant fusion of '90s-era indie rock re-imagined in a way that only wide-eyed high schoolers could conjure -- teenagers who were either unborn or barely in diapers when touchstones like Pavement, Sebadoh, Modest Mouse or Built to Spill were in their prime. The N'ere Dowells' self-released Are You Still Down includes those aforementioned songs along with several new tracks, albeit here the sound quality is mastered-up a tad while still being gloriously muddy, perfectly complementing the group's effortless tightrope between almost-shambolic performances and equal flashes of skilled musicianship and group symmetry.

There aren't many young bands these days that could pull off a tune like "I Won't," a lo-fi, garage-rock epic that brilliantly yet clunkily twists and turns through its six-plus-minutes with guitars chiming and churning atop jaunty drumming, and then eventually heads into a sort of laconic doo-wop-inspired refrain before closing out with some Mascis/Martsch-style soloing. ("Summer Babe" with a touch of "Freebird," perhaps?) The more concise "Comets" is even woozier, a seesawing, mid-tempo carnival ride where thrift-store trumpets and breezy ukuleles sway atop the psychedelic jangle, and singer Giovanni Cortez's throaty melodies unconsciously bring to mind a blend of Wayne Coyne and Stephen Malkmus. All of these aforementioned qualities make for the unexpected yet great cover of "Sometimes," here bluesier and all the more scuffed-up than the Flamin' Groovies' take on the Paul Revere & the Raiders original. While the N'ere Dowells aren't afraid to rock -- and they do with the wiry punk opener, "Jungle Song" -- the group prefer to take it at their own pace, more often than not choosing a restrained tempo instead of the frantic pummel that most bands their age would deliver. The exuberance in these recordings is undeniable, however, and beneath the rough-hewn primitivism is a subtle sophistication that can only be of its time. It's probably not something that the band will ever be able to replicate again; all of the N'ere Dowells members have just begun their first semesters in New York City colleges and as they plan on continuing to play together, one can only imagine the music that is yet to come, informed by new discoveries, experience and stepping into adulthood. In the meantime, this is ground zero and once again we're reminded that the kids are alright. [GH]

If you have a friend who's journeyed over to Berlin on a dance music holiday, chances are they came back to rave about Berghain, Berlin's most infamous club and per writer Philip Sherburne: "the current world capital of techno." No doubt the attribute that lingers with many of Berghain's tourist patrons is the unbridled hedonism of the place, but its DJ roster is unparalleled in electronic music and the standard is set by Marcel Dettmann, a resident of the club. His long-anticipated follow-up to his 2010 debut is that rare thing, a captivating full-length techno album. Dettman's sound is here in spades: minimal, dark, experimental yet visceral. Brutal bangers build out of eerie industrial haze, then turn back into cavernous beatless space. Metal scrapes against metal, drones throb in pitch black, and guest vocalist Emika appears to lend her wordless gasps to the mix. Powerful modern techno that will appeal to fans of Shed and Wax and the like. [AB]

Yoko Ono is far better known for her persona than she is for her music -- I mean, besides her marriage to (and undeniable creative influence on) one of the most important and iconic pop figures of the modern era, Ono's artistic output over the last half-century has been true to her avant-garde origins. She has always been more about performance, politics and passion than about songwriting in any traditional sense, and while she has had many legitimate hits over the years, from her socially-conscious collaborations with John Lennon to an unprecedented string of top-of-the-charts dance singles, even now, at 80, Lennon's statement that Ono is "the most famous unknown artist in the world" is pretty accurate. One consistency in her startlingly varied musical output is that she has always surrounded herself with the very best collaborators; a voracious art enthusiast, Ono has an infallible eye and ear for innovative talent, and from her earliest material with John Cage to this latest incarnation of the Plastic Ono Band, she only works with the best. The group on Take Me to the Land of Hell is again anchored by the trio of Sean Lennon, Yuka Honda, and Cornelius, a fiercely creative nucleus who made their mark on Ono's great 2009 LP Between My Head and the Sky, and collaborators old and new fill out a crazy roster of drop-in talent, from tUnE-yArDs to Nels Cline, ?uestlove, Mike D and Ad-Rock, and even Lenny Kravitz.

As with much of Ono's best stuff, the record never lets its progressive politics and aggressively challenging approach to pop music get in the way of a good time, and it's a celebration from start to finish, from Ono's trademarked vocal freak-out on set-opening "Moonbeams" to the hilariously self-effacing "Bad Dancer," or the strangely nostalgic shout-out to Chinatown favorite "NY Noodle Town." There is real emotion and insight in the vocals, and politics both personal and global, there are torch songs, dance grooves and brilliantly bizarre and uncategorizable music that, nonetheless, usually grooves pretty damn deep. If influences are discernable, many of them are pretty old-school (and left-of-center funky), from Zappa to Talking Heads to cabaret, but more than anything this is pure Yoko Ono, and that is a very good thing. Obviously, at this point, Yoko Ono is making music for one reason and one reason only -- because she needs to express herself, and express she does, with the sort of honesty and originality rarely seen even from the best and most adventurous performers. Take Me to the Land of Hell succeeds beautifully on its own terms, much as Ono has from day one. [JM]

Protégés of the mighty jazz trumpeter Donald Byrd, the Blackbyrds made a name for themselves in the '70s with soulful jazz-funk explorations that skillfully balanced high and low dichotomies. Far removed from the dark chemistry of Miles Davis' avant-funk masterpiece On the Corner or Herbie Hancock's daring Mwandishi expedition, the Blackbyrds sounded perpetually airy and fluid. This emphatic playfulness might partly explain why they were at times difficult to fully embrace by more "serious" funk and jazz heads, although they had several minor hits and have been sampled numerous times, including by the likes of De La Soul, Ice Cube, and 2Pac. Deeply grounded in the soul vernacular, the Blackbyrds' polished sound partly paved the way for the emergence of disco music, and although they might share some musical territory with more disputed figures such as George Benson and -- behold -- Earth, Wind & Fire, they have always been able to merge commercial interests with brave and exciting musicianship. If you don't already own their entire back catalog, this two-disc sampling is an excellent introduction to an era full of breezy musical delights. The four opening tracks from their somewhat uneven debut album (co-produced by Fonce Mizell, who together with his brother Larry would certainly deserve a retrospective celebration of their own) set the tone, from party anthem "Do It, Fluid" to the mellow chill of "Summer Love." The Blackbyrds emerged full-grown on their second long player, Flying Start, which was produced by Donald Byrd, like all of their consecutive albums until they parted ways with their mentor following a business dispute. There you have it, the inspiring jazz-funk greatness of "Blackbyrd's Theme," which would truly immortalize the band, alongside "Walking in Rhythm," their biggest commercial success. These two tracks flesh out the extremes the Blackbyrds would masterfully navigate in the years to come, from pop to soul to funk to disco, injecting a sense of hipness and focus in an at times sweet sounding musical undertaking, which you should definitely check out if you haven't already. [NVT]

In 2008, the British imprint Claremont 56 released its first CD, a selection of ridiculously rare tracks as picked by deep diggers Moonboots and Balearic Mike. And with that, the Originals series began, featuring expert if unheralded DJs from around the world, ranging from Japanese DJ Yozo to British boogie monster Sean P (who shares the credit with Joey Negro for turning a generation of kids onto leftfield dancepunk with his highly influential Disco Not Disco compilation). Now the series comes to a close and it's going out on a high note with another fine selector at the controls, New York's own Alex from Tokyo. Alex's tenure in dance music stretches over decades and he brings together many different strains here, ranging from I:Cube to Max Romeo, Material to strange Japanese funk one-offs, slotting dollar bin selections alongside 200 Euro rarities. Limited and recommended. [AB]

Coming off his recent collaboration with Takako Minekawa via the Toropical Circle album, Dustin Wong (Ponytail, Ecstatic Sunshine) offers up a great new solo outing, once again armed with his arsenal of effects pedals and venturing into new territories with his textured and looped excursions. Incorporating more vocal and percussive elements, Mediation of Ecstatic Energy stretches from playful, skittering polyrhythms to layered instrumental guitar-pop symphonies to some unexpectedly darker, industrial-tinged moments that we haven't heard coming from Wong before.

Led by producer Ossie (who's got a handful of singles and EPs out on Hyperdub and 2020 Midnight Visions), this East London trio of old friends offer up their True Panther debut with this limited 12", featuring three great, melodic cuts of soulful house plus a remix from Joe Goddard.

Another new True Panther signing, the tracks here from this mysteriously anonymous producer are mostly beat-driven but aimed for the listener's head rather than the dance floor. Oft-complex rhythms and percussion lay the foundation for melodic washes of synths, gurgling electronics and occasional vocal samples, yet the results are more organic than you would imagine, and always visceral and cinematic.

October 2013 issue of Wire features Chicago-born saxophonist Matana Roberts, who discusses with Daniel Spicer "the latest installment of Coin Coin, her sprawling series of releases on Constellation Records that channel a long tradition of radical African-American music and literature as well as delving deep into her own family's history and folklore, and finds a musician navigating the borders between jazz, avant-rock, poetry and performance." Also inside: The Necks, Charles Cohen, Shalabi Effect's Sam Shalabi, Invisible Jukebox with Nozinja/Shangaan Electro and more.

THIS WEEK'S CONTRIBUTORS

[AB] Adrian Burkholder
[DG] Daniel Givens
[GH] Gerald Hammill
[MK] Michael Klausman
[JM] Josh Madell
[MM] Matthew Malone
[DM] Doug Mosurock
[RN] Ryan Naideau
[MS] Michael Stasiak
[NVT] Niels Van Tomme



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