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+ Donato Wharton - Body Isolations
+ Svalastog - Woodwork
+ Tim Hecker - Harmony In Ultraviolet
+ Rosy Parlane - Jessamine
+ Jarvis Cocker - The Jarvis Cocker Record
+ Múm - Peel Session
+ Deloris - Ten Lives
+ Minimum Chips - Lady Grey
+ Badly Drawn Boy - Born In The U.K.
+ The Hold Steady - Boys And Girls Together
+ The Blood Brothers - Young Machetes
+ The Places - Songs For Creeps
+ Camille - Le Fil
+ Wolf Eyes - Human Animal
+ Christina Carter - Electrice
+ The Decemberists - The Crane Wife
+ Junior Boys - So This Is Goodbye
+ Various Artists - Musics In The Margin
+ Rafael Toral - Space
+ Bob Dylan - Modern Times
+ Excepter - Alternation
+ Chris Thile - How To Grow A Woman From The Ground
+ Brad Mehldau - Live in Japan
+ M Ward - Post-War
+ Various Artists - Touch 25
+ The Mountain Goats - Get Lonely
+ The White Birch - Come Up For Air
+ Camera Obscura - Let's Get Out of This Country
+ Coachwhips - Double Death
+ Various Artists - Tibetan And Bhutanese Instrumental And Folk Music, Volume 2
+ Giuseppe Ielasi - Giuseppe Ielasi
+ Cex - Actual Fucking
+ Sufjan Stevens - The Avalanche
+ Leafcutter John - The Forest And The Sea
+ Carla Bozulich - Evangelista
+ Barbara Morgenstern - The Grass Is Always Greener
+ Robin Guthrie - Continental
+ Peaches - Impeach My Bush
+ Oakley Hall - Second Guessing
+ Klee - Honeysuckle
+ The Court & Spark - Hearts
+ TV On The Radio - Return To Cookie Mountain
+ Awesome Color - Awesome Color
+ Jenny Wilson - Love And Youth
+ Asobi Seksu - Citrus
+ Marsen Jules - Les Fleurs
+ The Moore Brothers - Murdered By The Moore Brothers
+ Regina Spektor - Begin To Hope
+ The 1900s - Plume Delivery EP
+ Alejandro Escovedo - The Boxing Mirror
+ Function - The Secret Miracle Fountain
+ Sonic Youth - Rather Ripped
+ Loscil - Plume
+ Boris - Pink
+ Deadboy And The Elephantmen - We Are Night Sky
+ Glissandro 70 - Glissandro 70
+ Calexico - Garden Ruin (Review #2)
+ Calexico - Garden Ruin (Review #1)
+ The Flaming Lips - At War With The Mystics
+ The Glass Family - Sleep Inside This Wheel
+ Various Artists - Songs For Sixty Five Roses
+ The Fiery Furnaces - Bitter Tea
+ Motorpsycho - Black Hole/Blank Canvas
+ The Red Krayola - Introduction
+ Metal Hearts - Socialize
+ American Princes - Less And Less
+ Sondre Lerche And The Faces Down Quartet - Duper Sessions
+ Supersilent - 7
+ Band Of Horses - Everything All The Time
+ Dudley Perkins - Expressions
+ Growing - Color Wheel
+ Red Carpet - The Noise Of Red Carpet
+ The Essex Green - Cannibal Sea
+ Espers - II
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44.1 kHz Archive

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Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Touch And Go

The latest release from the trashy punk band you want to have sex with is (watch out, this is gonna blow your mind) incredible. [Throat clearing] Let me apologize for telling you something you've already come to expect. The NYC trio hasn't given us much yet (they've previously released a self-titled EP) but no matter — that's all we needed to be convinced of their awesome power to make the rest of the music world look like weak, mediocre pieces of shit. The new release — a three-song single, two new, one a remix — is just more proof. Let's face it, no one else today is making music as cool and original as that of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

Sex goddess, er, I mean lead singer Karen O wraps you around her delicate little porcelain finger the first chance she gets. The record opens with an especially crackly lo-fi recording of her so-soft-she-might-fall-apart-any-second speak-sing-moaning. It's rough, it's desperate, it's passionate and it's very, very sexy. And the hottest part is, she has NO idea. I interviewed the band not long ago — piece-of-shit tape recorder broke — but from what I remember, O told me she couldn't understand why critics were calling her or the band's music sexy. Well, that just figures. People like O — effortlessly radiating sexual energy and magnetism — typically have no clue they're doing such. These people (who, I must add, I despise) have beakers inside their body mixing up just the right combination of DNA, biological dispositions, environmental factors and psychological perceptions to come up with a sexual aura that dispenses itself with the power of a skunk spraying out stench. This only comes from within. You either got it or you don't. Sorry O, like it or not, you done got it.

I do believe, however, that being sexy is not her intention. In fact, she may not appreciate the use of the word "sexy" as an adjective for describing the Yeahs' sound. It's true, there are so many others (raw, punk, arty, jagged, gritty, etc.) that could rightfully be used. But the power of O's sexual energy is undeniable here, though I don't mean to put her beneath the spotlight, and I don't believe she could do it alone. Guitarist Nick Zinner and drummer Brian Chase bring equal amounts of raw energy, originality and might, and anyway, I've always believed, as far as bands are concerned, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. So maybe that sexual power would be absent without the coming together of these three.

Let's get back to this sexed-up single. So after our sweet, sweet, sultry intro by Miss O comes the rest of "Machine," a rumbling, thunderous anything-for-the-sake-of-love number. It feels driven by the heart as it professes, begs, pants and grunts. Still, the guitar's punk thrashing and drum's ominous pounding offset the potential for too much lovey-dovey mush. O's cracking, low vocals manage to hold power even while pleading. "And I walk and I walk/ The space left for two/ And I wait and I wait/ To wake next to you," O wails passionately. "Machine, machine/ I wasted it for you/ Machine, machine/ I washed it for you."

With heavy distortion set to O's quivering vocals, "Graveyard" roars with energy, speed, an infectious beat and the roughed-up, stop-start grittiness that's come to be expected from the group. Closing the record is a remix of "Pin," a much-welcomed staple of the Yeahs' live set. It's drowned in electronic affects and trippy echoes, so it's difficult to find that catchy melody so many have grabbed onto and shaken their butts with during live shows. Still, it's a flowing, pretty song.

So far, the Yeahs have given us only a taste of what they're capable of, but it's been a taste so rich, so succulent, it's enough to leave us easy listeners turning into putty in the palm of O's hands, wanting more, more, more.

by Jenny Tatone

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