Fall’s New Albums Are All Grown Up

Stars: In Our Bedroom After the War
The most stunning aspect of In Our Bedroom After the War is its craft. The songs are saturated with layered instrumentation and carefully spun narratives, which are often so arresting that the real world pales in comparison to the universes of Stars’ songs.
Co-singers Amy Millan and Torquil Campbell play numerous characters over the course of the record, and while there are many songs that feature one singer more than the other, including the grand “Take Me to the Riot,” the most memorable tracks capitalize on Millan and Campbell’s interplay. Their interlocking vocals are hypnotizing in the soaring “The Night Starts Here,” while it is their soft chemistry that shines in the understated “Personal,” which tells the story of a missed connection from either side of a personal ad. Millan and Campbell’s unaffected commitment to their characters makes the song one of the album’s most touching.
The tracks on In Our Bedroom After the War come off as intimate, idiosyncratic, and often heart-wrenching, but never confessional. The record is a clearly a careful performance, but one that exemplifies the thoughtful artistry that goes into the best pop music. —Elizabeth Wade

PJ Harvey: White Chalk
After the brooding, moody Uh Huh Her and its hip, confident predecessor Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea, PJ Harvey has taken a more minimalist approach to her songwriting. In White Chalk, she relies on simple piano chords and dry, plucked strings as a backdrop for her vocals. The new release is delicate, sparse, and sensitive, as far as imaginable from the ’90s alt-rock that kicked off her career: distortion, power chords, and anguished melodies are nowhere to be heard. Harvey’s voice has also changed—it’s quieter and clearer, its usual rawness is replaced with a crystal-clear tone at a much higher register, and her dreamy, macabre lyrics are delivered without a hint of her characteristic anguish or frustration.
This makes for a relatively inaccessible album, by pop standards at least: it’s what The Fragile was to Nine Inch Nails’ Downward Spiral, or what Vespertine was to Bjork’s Debut. Incidentally, fans of both those artists will be drawn to this ethereal yet intense collection of songs because of its complex, haunting sound and often unorthodox melodies and rhythms. This is not a catchy verse-chorus-verse record, and it requires some work to appreciate (mood lighting and late nights help, too). Ultimately, though, it is a deep, carefully produced and bold musical move that takes both Harvey and her audience out of their comfort zones. —Atossa Abrahamian

Hot Hot Heat: Happiness Inc.
Am I the only one who sees the uncanny similarity between Hot Hot Heat’s new album title, Happiness Ltd., and the name of the 2005 Gorillaz hit single, “Feel Good, Inc.”? It’s hard to believe that Hot Hot Heat is out of touch enough not to have noticed this coincidence, and yet it becomes easier to understand after a listen to the album itself: the band also hasn’t realized that nobody’s going to be impressed by songs that sound exactly like a less energetic version of what it’s been doing for years. In fact, Happiness Ltd. would probably be a better album—or at least a more interesting one—if the title hadn’t been the only thing ripped from the Gorillaz. But unfortunately for the listener, Hot Hot Heat’s new 40 minutes is just more of the same.
Out of the eleven songs, just two are really worth a listen. “5 Times out of 100” is perhaps the only one that retains the intense, upbeat exuberance that has marked Hot Hot Heat’s most successful songs to date—Make Up the Breakdown’s “Bandages” and “Talk to Me, Dance with Me,” for example. Besides that, only “Outta Heart” stands out, as a surprisingly pretty number that is positively ridden with desperation about (of course) love. After this lackluster album though, it’s clear that Hot Hot Heat has definitely cooled down. —Elizabeth Simins

Beirut: The Flying Club Cup
Beirut’s The Flying Club Cup is not a drinking game. It is instead Zach Condon’s latest release, meant to musically capture the essence of various French cities. Beirut is famous for its Eastern European brand of “gypsy rock,” a sound fairly unexplored in the indie music scene. The album is beautifully constructed and recorded—each song brilliantly adds to the feeling that The Flying Club Cup is truly a musical vacation.
The band’s first release, Gulag Orkestar, had a very concept-album feel, using similar instruments on each track and featuring Condon’s hauntingly mournful voice. At least The Flying Club Cup comes clean about having a gimmick. It is a clear departure from Gulag Orkestar in terms of instrumentation, featuring accordions and piano while still maintaining Beirut’s established sound. The album is, for the most part, less heavy-hitting, though it still maintains a melancholy feel.
Notable moments include the startlingly different “Un Dernier Verre (Pour La Route),” featuring mostly piano, the honest lyrics of “Cherbourg,” and the carnival-like beginning of “A Sunday Smile.” The album only marginally departs from conventions set in Gulag Orkestar—if Beirut doesn’t change it up soon, their sound will become a stereotype. However, as long as Condon manages to capture the hearts of his audiences like he captures the essence and mystery of France in The Flying Club Cup, fans should have nothing to worry about.—Eva Gonzalez-Ruskiewicz