The Olympic Symphonium - 'More in Sorrow Than in Anger'

The back cover to the Olympic Symphonium’s More in Sorrow Than in Anger features a robot holding a monkey. Hell. Yes. The songs contained within are pretty good, occasionally evoking Jim James, both with and without My Morning Jacket, Wilco at their quietest, and that Canadian indie sound (Canindie? Canindien?) that’s been coming from up north for a while now. But seriously, there’s a robot holding a monkey. It’s like the future and the past getting all types of snuggly.

“You Win Some, You Lose Some” opens the 10-song, 39-minute full-length. It’s a brief instrumental that showcases the band’s M.O. – pretty acoustic guitar chords, twinkling piano, a warm feeling despite the sparse arrangements. The band repeats this trick nine more times with feeling (and vocals). “Intentions Alone” adds an alt-country element a la Nickel Creek, albeit in a much lighter way. The sound lends the record an introspective air, perfect for the transition from fall to winter.

If there’s a knock against the record, it’s that it can get repetitive after a while. It’s quiet and contemplative or bust, and while the band incorporates a few musical guests, the variety is still minimal. That’s not to say that any of the songs are failures, though. During my first listen, I found myself bored by the album’s midpoint. Having since listened to the tracks out of order, though, I’ve found that tracks five and seven, “Blood From a Stone” and “Dead Man’s Inn,” respectively, are my favorite songs on the album. Of course, that opens the band to another criticism: “Blood From a Stone” is not a Hooters cover. Oh well, no one’s perfect.

More in Sorrow isn’t exactly a party record, but it can make for a rewarding listen, especially when broken up into smaller segments. Songs like “Oh My Dear” and “Side By Side” have a gentle, twangy disposition, and a little bit of that can go a long way.

Robot holding a monkey!

Karen O and The Kids - 'Where the Wild Things Are'

I’ve been told that the better the trailer, the worse the movie must be. Comedies include the best jokes. Action flicks show the best explosions. And if a drama can completely boil down its essence to 90 seconds, there’s a good chance it’s really not that involved. The same seems to hold true for the Where the Wild Things motion picture soundtrack. Featuring original compositions by Karen O and The Kids (Or, Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Friends From Other Bands and Kids), the album scores the upcoming film adaptation of the classic Maurice Sendak children’s book by director (and former O flame) Spike Jonze.

The trailer for the film, above, features the song “Wake Up,” from the Arcade Fire’s full-length debut Funeral. It’s bold and polychromatic and emotionally evocative all on its own. And Jonze, a music video maestro, expertly grafts that song’s resonance to images from his movie. Even if the theatrical cut is a complete failure and bastardization, this short film will still be beautiful. But nothing Karen O presents on the official soundtrack matches “Wake Up.” In fact, for the most part, she runs away from that song’s power.

Where the Wild Things Are presents itself as a subdued acoustic indie album with children on back-up vocals. It’s like if Show Your Bones met Kidz Bop and they decided to chill out. And while the disc is not without its intriguing indie quirks – lead single “All is Love” is pretty catchy; opener “Igloo” seamlessly blends dialogue from the film with a soft, cooing song; “Rumpus” and “Capsize” are just straight-up great – there’s this lingering doubt that these are all the second-best choices for the film when compared to the Arcade Fire.

At the same time, though, the soundtrack is by no means a failure. Indeed, the record has charm. Karen O’s boundless energy makes for a perfect match with the cherubic voices of children. Fans of O’s solo single “Hello Tomorrow” will note the similarities between the two. More coos, more chimes, more piano, more acoustic guitar. This is a deliberate break from her dance-punk day job with Yeah Yeah Yeahs (But then again, so was It’s Blitz!). The album is pleasant-sounding, but a little too understated, and underwhelming, to stand on its own. Perhaps once the music is shown with the film Oct. 16, the soundtrack will make sense. As is, it’s a little too formless. Nice enough, but it’s no Funeral.

Patton Oswalt - 'My Weakness is Strong'

My Weakness is Strong, Patton Oswalt’s first comedy album since his knockout 2006 record Werewolves and Lollipops and the little kiddie film that could, Ratatouille, finds the stand-up comic at a crossroads. Recorded February 28, 2009 at the Lisner Auditorium in Washington D.C., the CD/DVD combo is his first “grown-up” record, as the best jokes tend to focus on his wife and hopes for his (at the time) unborn daughter.

Granted, these topics lead to the time he and his wife disturbed an orgy and then tried to play it off (“He comes out of the bathroom, and he got dressed in whatever was there. And here’s what was in the bathroom: A pair of girl’s sweatpants that he has put on backwards so the word ‘juicy’ is across his groin… which, I hate to say, probably factually accurate”) and how he quit drugs to be a better father to his daughter (“I’m not afraid that I’m gonna be on acid and put her in a microwave or something. What I’m afraid of is… [she remembers] having breakfast with her dad and he was like. ‘What are you having there, Lucky Charms? Alright, let me tell you the whole conspiracy behind Lucky Charms”).

For the most part, Weakness really is strong. Oswalt jokes about his vices (drugs, depression, weight issues, and hating everything), and it’s hi-larious. Plus, it’s all-new material. The topics are well-worn for Oswalt (time traveling to the ’90s, etc.); the jokes are new. But here’s the thing, while Oswalt once kidded about how he never wanted to be one of those stand-ups that talks about his family ad nauseum, such jokes are now his strongest material. Cracks about religion (the track “Sky Cake”) and airplanes (“Airplane”) feel unfinished. There’s a clear, solid set up in spite of the hacky premise, but the punchlines need work, which isn’t going to happen since the guy is already planning his next batch of material. Even bits that are hysterical (“Rats” in particular) tack on certain unnecessary humor codas. Most of the limp jokes are near the end of the record, though, and Oswalt pulls back up in time for closing bit “The Magician,” a story about a magician who “hate fucks the crowd with magic.”

Werewolves and Lollipops was a great stand-up record – and the one that got me back into comedy CDs. My Weakness is Strong, by comparison, is just good. But it’s kind of like complaining about how the Clash only made one London Calling. Give ’Em Enough Rope and Sandinista! are still worth your time too. Oswalt has said that each of his records is a snapshot of where he is in his life. Hopefully, Weakness is a hint of where Oswalt’s next album will go: still angry, but a lot happier from fatherhood too.

The "Rats" bit:


And here's a classic from Werewolves and Lollipops:

OpeNightmare - 'The Harder They Come'

If there’s one thing the French are good at, it’s bein’ ornery. Oh, and losing wars. But mostly just being ornery. French punks OpeNightmare, albeit fronted by Belgian Yves Vai, fit that description mighty well. The band’s third full-length, The Harder They Come, while at times tedious, serves up riotous punk rock.

OpeNightmare is a play on the name of the atom bomb’s “father,” J. Robert Oppenheimer, and not a lazy spelling for Open Nightmare. This makes the pronunciation sound slightly exotic despite being inspired by a guy who lived and died in New Jersey. That’s where the exoticism ends, though, unless you count the liner notes’ info about helping out with education and art in France… and the cute way Yves says pronounces “fuck” as “fahk.” Yves sings in English, so us ’Mericans should have no trouble getting behind humanitarian tunes like “No Fun Atom” and “You Don’t Know.”

This is standard punk – think Anti-Flag, Tiger Army, and maybe Rancid (2000), only more homogeneous. At 40 minutes, The Harder They Come could stand to shed a few of its 13 tracks. Punk songs about being super wicked punk tend to suck, and “Rock’n’Roll Sucks,” a pro-punk/metal tune, is no exception. “No Buck No Fuck,” in which the narrator tries to kill a woman on the street after killing his wife, could probably go too. Depending on your perspective, it’s either a depiction of humans’ darker elements, like a weaker “Johnny Hit and Run Paulene,” or a lame Misfits retread. So, it’s either offensively terrible or terribly offensive. While “Sleeping With My Boss” examines the complex dynamics behind prostitution, “No Buck” comes off like a stereotypical horror show. It’s not inherently bad, but it’s still not on par with the rest of the record.

I have no idea if “Dragster Hollow Cost” is supposed to sound like a punk Rob Zombie or not.

Despite a few bum tracks, The Harder They Come has a decent percentage of solid songs. The first four tracks provide a strong 12 minutes or so of pogo-worthy punk. Skip the middle, and the record’s back-half comes off strong as well. “Dragster Hollow Cost” and “Burn / Destroy” add a little metal to the mix. All in all, not bad, not great.

O Pioneers!!! - 'Neon Creeps'

Some punk bands’ albums don’t have release dates so much as release periods. First the record leaks online, then the band starts selling advance copies at shows. Then a few indie stores and Web merchants start carrying it. Finally, somewhere, somehow, some way, an official release date (heh, neon) creeps in for all the mom-n-pop corporate giants to hop on.

Such is the case for Neon Creeps, the latest and greatest from Texan trio O Pioneers!!!. The record’s release has been delayed a few times, so much so that by the time the official release date passes by, I’ll have been sitting this legally purchased folk-punk gem for close to two months, thanks to the magic of online commercialism.

So, will Punknews be stoked? Yes sir and/or madam, Punknews will be totally stoked on Neon Creeps. Guitarist/vocalist Eric Solomon’s voice keeps getting better. Here, he comes off like Chuck Ragan, meaning his pipes are strong and gruff, with a dash of the sexies. Dude twists and shouts like a chain-smoking coal miner. I hope he grows a sweet beard. The other members, Aaron Ervin (drums) and Zak Klaine (bass), give their best performances with O Pioneers!!! yet, which doesn’t actually mean anything since they’re both new. But they’re still good, sleek and assured. Old drummer Chris Ryan is out, which will please fans of steady time-keeping. This new version of the band also boasts 100 percent more bass.

Thankfully, this solid band of merry gentlemen has some great tunes to serve up. “Chris Ryan Added Me on Facebook” harshes on the ex-member’s mellow, but if you ignore the title, you have a relatable, deliciously biting kiss-off to a former friend. It’s bitter like a Morrissey song (or at least a Jesse Lacey one). Which is fitting, since another standout is “My Life as a Morrissey Song,” a 57-second blast of self-doubt in which Solomon tries to analyze the emptiness within his soul before opting to just get the eff over himself. It makes a logical jumping point to the next track, “Stressing the Fuck Out.” With frantic repetition of the phrase “Everything will be alright,” “Stressing the Fuck Out” is in the running for Positive Jam 2009.

Of course, sometimes the songs could stand to have a little more lyrical variety. Opening number “Saved By the Bell was a Super Good Show” tries to get a little too much mileage out of the word “drama” (42x), running on fumes by the time its three minutes are up. I’d love to see him work “disagreement,” “quarrel,” and “existential dread” into the song. Actually, “quarrels” would work syllabically. So would “squabbles.” And “baubles,” but that’s not really relevant.

The repetition trick does work to some songs’ advantage, though. Solomon taunts Ryan on “Facebook” by ending almost every sarcastic line with “just like in high school,” liberally spritzing the song with disdain and condescension. The same goes for the closing track “Cool Kid City,” in which Solomon cleanses himself of scene politics, hipster douchebaggery, and that all-encompassing drama from the first track. Neon Creeps, in that sense, is like a loose concept album about growing up but still loving the music. Learning to let go, earning independence, and such. If you dig Hot Water Music’s vocals, Against Me!’s early tunes, and Dillinger Four’s song titles, then just might be able to mildly tolerate Neon Creeps.

Oceana - 'The Tide'

I hate when people say, “Oh, I like everything, except for country (and/or rap)” when discussing music, for a few reasons. First, such a statement implies that you have almost no taste in and no opinion on music whatsoever, except for country. This means you rank The Beatles on the same level as your average white supremacy band like Prussia Blue. This means you like Limp Bizkit’s last album as much as The Clash’s first one. And I know you don’t mean that. Secondly, I hate it because I know you’re lying. There is no way you like For the Fatherland as much as Rubber Soul. No freaking way. And finally, I hate this sort of statement because it implies it is possible to hate an entire genre. Thinking in those terms is demeaning to art. Musicians should not be guided by genre labels, because that is too restrictive, and neither should listeners. Listen to bands, not genres.

Now, folks, when I say I hate Oceana’s The Tide because it’s a stupid piece of screamo bullshit, I don’t mean to imply that I hate screamo as a whole. Just because I shuddered when I read online comparisons between Oceana and Burden of a Day, another bad screamo band I had to write about for this Web site, doesn’t mean I’m biased against the entire genre. Taking Back Sunday’s first record has held up for me. And I think Thursday has actually gotten better with each album, although some would argue that A) I’m wrong, and B) Thursday isn’t really a screamo band anymore and that they’re happy to lose the designation. But I just want you, the lip ring-wearing, faux-hawk styling, black-clad masses, to know that I’m not trying to shit on your face.

I just really, really, really don’t like Oceana’s The Tide. It sucks.

After a brief, bland intro track, The Tide kicks into rock mode with “The Accountable.” The first line listeners hear is “The truth is found six feet underground or laying at the bottom of the sea.” Oddly enough, I’m wearing a black Plea for Peace t-shirt right now, so I’m probably not the right demographic for this song about suicide. I can’t quite figure out if frontman Keith Jones is arguing for or against it, and this really isn’t the sort of thing I like left ambiguous. Amid angular guitar parts and that nasally singing/gruff screaming combo that is screaming emotional hardcore’s trademark, Jones advises that “Misguided truths are right here within these walls / And to speak of them is a sin against the ones you swear to the most.” OK, so don’t discuss your family problems? Are you pro- or anti-discussing rape/incest? “To purge one’s self in such a misleading way is just a shame.” If that’s a suicide reference, then I think Jones is coming out against it. But then the alternative Jones comes up with is to “only wither away.” It’s a bit muddled, and the music’s piss poor use of breakdowns and machine gun bass drum hits isn’t really interesting enough to keep me invested.

After “The Accountable,” The Tide provides 10 more competent, yet annoying, screaming emotional hardcore jams. The variation is slight, the frustration great. Jones suffers from the same problem as a lot of this genre’s vocalists; he’s trying too hard to be heavy. While his screams are devoid of the whine of Taking Back Sunday or The Used, they’re so monolithically geared towards sounding deep and guttural that the record sounds like a 42-minute bowel movement. Somebody get this guy a laxative.

Our American Cousin - 'How's This for a Diploma?'

Hey, remember American Football? Kansas City natives Our American Cousin sure do. Their debut EP How’s This for a Diploma?, off of No Sleep Records, combines the instrumentals of AF/caP’n Jazz with a touch of Cute is What We Aim For-style vocals. It’s a good enough con deal, overall, mixing alternately dirge-y and squealing angular guitars with a bits of string arrangements here and there.

How’s This for a Diploma? starts off with the pseudo-indie/punk of “Ernesto Perez One. Ernesto Perez Two.” It pretty much sets the M.O. for the rest of the EP, as frontman Kurtis Viers screeches and thrashes his guitar around while the rest of the band does the same. It’s refreshingly dirtier than your average emo band these days.

While some may fault Our American Cousin for being too derivative, having plundered a lot of their tricks from the ’90s emo era, at least the group has figured out how to get dissonant and harsh without going the screamo/metalcore route. At the same time, though, the band could still use a bit of seasoning. Sample lyrics from “Ernesto Perez One. Ernesto Perez Two”: “Let’s keep each other sweet/Comets tell of the moonshine/And prove how deep our pockets are.” The group’s lyricism is sort of ethereal, sort of a high school poetry session. But, if the listener can step back from the corniness of those lines, he and/or she may just notice the simple yet elegant piano line gliding underneath of them.

Our American Cousin delivers more in the same vein of “Ernesto Perez One. Ernesto Perez Two.” with the EP’s other two tracks, “Think I May Have an Ego?” and “Lights Out (Sock Full of Batteries).” “Think I May Have an Ego?” rocks a multi-part vocal line for maximally weird effect while needling guitars, crashing cymbals, and a quaint lil organ line pop up throughout. The band’s solid sense of instrumentation is further complemented by Parker Viers’ cello playing in the track’s triumphant build-up. Remember, ya’ll: Cello + snare roll = epic x sweet.

“Lights Out (Sock Full of Batteries)” closes out the disc, and reveals Our American Cousin’s grasp of the ambient as well as the rocking. It quickly heads back towards OAC’s emo-rock comfort zone, though. It’s more of the same; not that that’s a complaint.

How’s This for a Diploma? shows a lot of promise for Our American Cousin. The group’s mix of rock with more classically-oriented instruments like cello and piano make for an enticing 14 minutes of indie/punk/emo. While the EP is by no means perfect, as the lyrics could use work and drummer Adam Park still needs to figure out if he wants to play loose or sloppy/behind the rest of the band, it is still a good start all the same. [NOTE: This band broke up soon after releasing this EP. Chumps.]