Santigold, I Don’t Want: The Gold Fire Sessions

Santigold, I Don’t Want: The Gold Fire Sessions

Philly-based rennaisance woman Santi White’s latest release is full of ridiculously catchy tunes, most of them bright, melodic pop songs undergirded by rhythms of myriad inspirations, but especially dancehall and dub. White’s voice delights in her upper ranges and bounces along with such day-glo radiance, it’s all the more satisfying when you realize the songs have both depth and lyrical dexterity, and that the music underneath is so intricately rich. This album is technically a mixtape — in the rap sense of the word, not the cassette compilations Gen X-ers made — rather than an album; there’ll be no singles, no push to make it commercially successful, she’s just releasing songs for free to get recognition. That doesn’t stop it from being one of the very best pop records of the year. Highlights: “Coo Coo Coo,” “Valley of the Dolls,” “Crashing Your Party”

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Ezra Furman, Transangelic Exodus

Ezra Furman , Transangelic Exod us Ezra Furman’s “Queer outlaw saga” wowed me at every turn. A concept album about a boy and his lover on the run from the law — after the lover undergoes illegal surgery to become an angel — Furman soars and rages his way through his most impassioned album yet. Fleeing the authorities in a red Camaro, his protagonists continually risk their lives in service to their love for each other and to their true nature. These are powerful, vulnerable songs, teaming with urgency but sweetened by magic. The album’s mysticism has its roots in Furman’s own spirituality — he’s an observant Jew who never performs Friday nights — and he liberally weaves clearly autobiographical elements into the story, which makes it all the more resonant. Like the best concept albums, the story never bogs itself down in plot details, so that its finer points aren’t necessary for the enjoyment of the individual songs. Furman’s new band, the Visions, blends the guitars, s...

Kanye West & Kid Cudi, Kids See Ghosts

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Hop Along, Bark Your Head Off Dog

Hop Along, Bark Your Head Off, Dog This Philadelphia band’s complex, literate, off-kilter indie rock gets better with every listen. This could never be pop music, no matter who produced it or what instruments they used. It is too strange, singlar and too unrestrained. Singer Frances Quinlan’s melodic acrobatics are all over the map — “angular” doesn’t begin to cover it — and the rest of the band careens along wildly; the whole thing barely holds together, in the most wonderful way. The same guy who told Mozart he used “too many notes” would’ve said the same to Hop Along and he’d be similarly wrong. The string section, the backing vocals and the occasional synths are apparently new with this album and they offset the band’s punk-infused spirit perfectly. Highlights: “Prior Things,” “The Fox in Motion,” “What the Writer Meant”

Album Reviews by Stefan Wenger

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