Work oftentimes comes off like a scrapbook of popular indie in the Aughts. In the end, though, it’s not such a bad thing.
The guitar lines feed off of one another in increasing complexity over ever-changing time signatures, all the while retaining a subtlety that prevents them from ever getting in the way.
But that’s why Defeater is so compelling, they don’t give into any scene-standards. It’s formula free, devoid of cliches.
Listening to Contra is like having a hangover on a sunny day. I don’t care how happy it is, it’s too much. Slow down, try playing in a minor key, use your natural voice. Who are you, really?
Fuck it, I’m gone. You done me wrong. Clocking in at a minute and fifteen seconds and consisting of solely the couplet above, Titles’ “Fuck It” keeps it simple. Titles is an indie band from ...
If there’s one style I’d like to see find a quiet place to die in 2010, it’s the disaffected, out-of-tune, and reverb-awashed excuse for rock music that infected Brooklyn over the last two years.