BLURB - Of all the albums I’ve reviewed on this blog, ‘Psychic Chasms’ will be the best of the year. This is for sure. Pretty easy decision too. Had it not been for Animal Collective releasing ‘Merriweather Post Pavilion,’ this would be my overall number one record of the year. Neon Indian is a one man wrecking crew, endlessly bludgeoning all of us with lo-fi synth pop in the most nostalgic of fashions. How so? Well, every song sounds like Wham’s rendition of ‘Last Christmas.’ But underneath all of these warm and fuzzy musical layers are themes that truly suggest he is anything but warm and fuzzy. Neon Indian offers up both introspective and highly interpretive lyrics that have a darker, thought provoking feel, leaving everyone in it's wake unable to stop listening. It’s simply that good
Rating - 10 out of 10
FULL STORY - Being the big music geek I am, I spend far too much time on iTunes looking at what people, who have bought albums that I bought, are buying. Follow? This led me to Neon Indian’s ‘Psychic Chasms.’ Essentially I use iTunes like it is one gigantic, widely traded mix tape. I brought it into work and sent it around to a few friends, whom either instantly loved it or hated it. A lot of the music I listen to has that quality. Long story short, this album ends up being one of the major discussion points at my company holiday party...well, that and Jersey Shore. Turns out I’m not the only person digging the indian and I end up scoring a couple tickets to see him at Mercury Lounge the next week. Sweet.
There’s something about seeing a brand new up and coming act live, whom you’ve just started following. You’re kind of unsure what you’re going to get and that show ends up being crucial. It’s the make or break point. It’s where you either decide to buy in, or move on. Neon Indian at the Mercury Lounge was one of those shows that makes you go all in. Everything from the energy to the emotion and sincerity of his performance was as addictive as I would guess meth is? Maybe more.
I think Neon Indian really appeals to me on a more personal level than other albums I’ve heard this year. For starters, I’ve really gone off the deep end as far these low fidelity, ambient-indie acts. There’s just something creative and different about it that I can’t get enough of. The whole Animal Collective, Panda Bear, Atlas Sound, Oberhofer scene...that’s my scene. What also draws me into these acts is the overwhelming homemade quality their sound has. The majority of these groups are just one person, or a small collection of very close friends. You can really get the sense of unbridled unity, motivation and friendship - pouring out of every track. There is a combination of seriousness, excitement and passion that is just more tangible and real than the majority of music that is out there. It’s also nice to use these artists as a measuring stick of sorts to myself, because I know all of these albums are being made in someone’s basement or apartment. This whole genre is filled with people like me, that listen to the same music, read about the same music and create, to some extent, the same music. Kind of like I’m indirectly friends with all of them. This common thread and affinity for music makes it extremely easy to root for them. Makes me pretty jealous too.
This is the part where I review the album and tell you what I liked about it. I break down the songs and encourage you to have your own go-round and decide for yourself. The only thing is, I’m at a loss of words. For those that know me, you might think this impossible. I can talk everybody’s ears off about music and I enjoy doing it. Get a couple drinks in me, and you won’t be able to get rid of me. It’s bad. But with ‘Psychic Chasms,’ I feel it’s so transcendent and unique that no line of contrived dialogue I put out will be able to explain exactly what this record sounds like or means to me. I’ve had several failed paragraphs already. In looking for some motivation I blindly perused some reviews and stumbled upon one that I could only wish that I had written. It nails every description and comparison I’ve been trying to force out of my brain. I am by no way making any claims to the authorship of the article, but I would like to recognize the source, as he did a stellar job. So please check out Citizen Dick (citizendick.org) for more great work. Here are my thoughts, brilliantly transcribed by a person named ‘Kevin.’
“I may be a bit obsessive-compulsive, but I have to believe people digest albums like I do. I tend to become a fanboy immediately with albums that jolt me from the starting gun, relentlessly focusing on three tracks that grab my attention first. Next, I eventually grow tired of the three standout tracks and move onto another section of three songs that I originally thought mundane and less noteworthy. Usually this results in a battle of sorts. I love those original tracks that drew me to the band’s sound, but inevitably wind up pushing them backwards in the playing rotation. Inexplicably, however, there always seems to be three tracks on every album that fail to make it into my pleasure-filled musical database. Try hard I may, but it’s an extremely rare occasion that an entire record is not just enjoyable to me from top to bottom, but noteworthy. Neon Indian’s Psychic Chasms is a debut that took a little time to wrap my brain around fully, but the fruits of ear-labor have never failed me yet. It’s an album rich with energy and a hard to pinpoint coolness that’s achieved through a varietal and shifting blitz of sound. Not a track is worthless, and in fact, if you listen to records like I do, the progression will leave no slag and the enjoyment tightens with each subsequent listen.
In my review of Deastro’s Moondagger earlier this year, much of the review focused on the reminiscent aura that certain electronically based outfits have been dishing out recently. For a self-professed alt-folk fanatic, it’s a pretty awkward admission that Alan Palomo (Neon Indian) creates the kind of music that knocks me straight out my LA Gear’s and into a completely fulfilling nostalgic mode. The central conundrum regarding electro-throwback music is that I have literally no way to merely describe a deeply rooted vibe. Typically, reviewing albums involves at least some shred of musical understanding. Although Psychic Chasms takes me far, far away from my comfort zone, I can’t stop playing it. The initial run through begins slamming “(AM)” at the listener, starting with a cylindrical synthesizer screechy sound that melts into the background as a nasty badass 80’s bouncy rhythm kicks in. Softly delivered vocals juxtapose the hard hitting grooves and busybody Danelectro attack. It’s this album opener that reeks of quirky mid 1980’s summers at the roller rink, super-rope licorices and, believe it or not, mid-period Prince material. Slick guitars and pinched out and looping sounds are splattered through each track. The retro hooks are encapsulated by spookily morphed and slowed down synth riffs that warble alongside nearly every song.
Perhaps it’s a trite over-generalization to assume Neon Indian is swinging for nostalgic fences here, as Palomo is extremely adept at spiraling sound mixtures. At times, the stacks of dominant sounds all layered on top of one another are quite brilliant. The midway arc of three songs, “Mind, Drips,” “Psychic Chasms,” and “Local Joke” point to wider and expansive takes on pop predecessors. At the heart of all three is a simplistic drum machine, aptly keeping time while each track spins and rises in sound-intensity. It’s easy enough to peg this as an album with repeat value for ambiance alone, but deeper listens unveil ripping keyboard arrangements, frenetic blips and flurries of wavering riffs. “Ephemeral Artery” links up a straining synthesizer behind everything, and like a car in an automated washer, it’s difficult to tell whether the songs moving forward or I’m moving in reverse. Super intriguing.
For me, however, what nails this album down is it’s drenching mid 80’s aura. “(If I Knew, I’d Tell You)” is forty-eight seconds of fuzzy and shaky brilliance that hearkens back to the most memorable early 80’s porn. If that’s a weak observation, our readership will have to accept my apologies, because my mind wanders constantly to those awkward instances of my youth, poorly dubbed Ginger Lynn fully included. To summate the value of this album, it’s important to first enter with a specific direction in mind. Like a choose-your-own-adventure book, this record consistently pulses from start to finish, and depending on listener preference, it can dive into nostalgia or enrich in a modern sense equally as well.”
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