For much of his career, Burial (William Emmanuel Bevan on his driver’s license) has had a reputation for making music that evokes a very specific emotional palette. His sound is abrasive, and in the past has made me feel cold and scared. There is a particular mood for listening to Burial, usually a solitary one.

With Rival Dealer, his newest three-song EP, Burial attempts to reinvent his music and try something different. All of the echoing gloom fans loved him for is still there, but for the first time his sound is uplifting and more hopeful. Vocals take the stage in this EP with prominence like never before, some of them exploring themes of LGBTQ-based bullying.

The first song and title track is a traditionally Burial-sounding song. The urgency of “Rival Dealer” is unmistakable and there seems to be a sort of battle between the airy vocals and the beats, each terrified of the other. “You are not alone,” a haunting echo, is heard often in all three songs. The last two minutes of the title track peel away to a synth lullaby, segueing flawlessly into the melodic “Hiders.” This ballad slowly rises into a heartbreaking ode to loneliness, repeating “you don’t want to be alone” in a pained voice.

The third and final song, “Come Down to Us,” is the climax of the album. It begins with a hollow church chorus and transitions within the minute into a psychedelic sitar loop blended with an auto-tuned gospel voice. Burial’s soft, muddy beats resonate subtly and add a sonic depth to the song, creating a warm and quieter atmosphere. “Come Down to Us” changes yet again and becomes a strong, twinkling sweep of synth, yet still remains deeply rooted in the ground.

Burial ends this masterpiece with one final statement, though this time non-musical. He samples The Matrix and Cloud Atlas co-director Lana Wachowski’s Human Rights Campaign speech from last year, “Without examples, without models I began to believe voices in my head […] that I will never be lovable,” bringing the EP to a close. The emotional progression of the songs – from fear to isolation to acceptance – almost resembles a concept album. With experimentation, Burial has widened his range while maintaining his classic sound. It pays off, and Rival Dealer gives listeners a newfound intrigue for his future work.

–Christian Favreau

Frankie Cosmos – pure suburb
Unsigned

Described by lead singer Greta Kline as “the pride soldiers show when they are returning home from battle victorious,” Frankie Cosmos returns after 45 digital albums (many of which consist of six to ten tracks, some of which are as short as 18 seconds) with pure suburb. The release of pure suburb is an exercise in setting vulnerability and honesty to music.

The backbone of the album is the stripped-down quality of the vocals and the revealing honesty in her lyrics. The album opens with “ballad of freedom” as Kline croons in multitracked third person “She feels in between/feeling and nothing.” Each track that follows is a raw narrative of Cosmos’ love for her dog, New York, and Ronnie Mystery (a pseudonym for Kline’s bandmate and partner Aaron Maine). The instrumentation takes a back seat to the vocals – quietly strummed guitar, purring organ, almost no percussion. It follows a tradition of twee indie pop, somewhat precious, but at least emotionally true. Most of these tracks would be right at home on the Juno soundtrack. Closing with “your name,” Kline reflects on the candid nature of musicality with “Your name is so great, I make the mistake of making it known,” then proceeds to burst into a chorus chanting, “oh Ronnie, oh oh oh Ronnie.”

The only flaw in the short and addictive tracklist of Frankie Cosmos’ pure suburb is that 17 minutes of audio leave you craving more. The songs evoke a connection with the listener that can only be reached through hearing such sincerity in narratives set to soft acoustics, such as in “bottom lip.” Kline’s personal character is so present in every track, and with lyrics like “Talk to me, I’ll tell you a gooey never ending story,” it even feels as though she’s singing directly to you. The melodies are simple but reverberate with deliberation as Kline gently nudges the boundaries of the minimalistic indie rock genre.

–Gelila Bedada

The Venetia Fair – Basically Just Does Karaoke
Unsigned

On their Facebook page, Boston hardcore combo The Venetia Fair claims that they aim to make music that is “theatric, chaotic, catchy, and sometimes a little silly but not too silly because it’s also serious business.” This translates to a sound not unlike a messier, less-ambitious Panic! At The Disco.

Well, maybe just a different kind of ambitious. Where Panic! makes frequent attempts at sonic evolution like their classic-rock forebears, The Venetia Fair seems content to record a cover album that invites unfavourable comparisons to those same musical giants. The first three tracks are unassailable classics of pop music: “Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen, “Come on Eileen” by Dexys Midnight Runners, and “Rock Lobster” by the B-52s; all venerated and overplayed, fixtures on the sort of “100 Best Songs of All Time According to Baby Boomers” countdowns that VH1 used to air.

But apparently The Venetia Fair wants to hear them again. Unsurprisingly, they’ve got nothing to add to “Bohemian Rhapsody.” Their take on “Lobster” is weirdly dark, somehow managing to keep the song’s original campy feel, but siphon out the fun.

The back half of the album consists of slightly less venerated source material, but little improvement. Their cover of Green Day’s multipart pop-punk suite “Jesus of Suburbia” lacks the drive and dynamics of the original. “Camouflage, Camouflage,” originally by post-hardcore favourites The Blood Brothers, is short of a credible sense of urgency and mania.

Strangely enough, it’s “Come on Eileen” that’s served the best by The Venetia Fair’s puckish spirit. The original already had a bit of messy, bar-band energy to it, and isn’t hurt by a little extra volume. Not that this is a new revelation: the Dropkick Murphys have been doing celtic folk-via-hardcore punk for close to two decades now. Maybe that’s the problem with The Venetia Fair: they’re not selling anything you can’t buy better down the street. If you’re looking for a hardcore pastiche of Queen, there’s Foxy Shazam, and dramatic, kitchen-sink emo is far from rare these days. Basically consists of the worst types of cover: not bad, but exactly competent enough to make a listener long for the original.

–Hillary Pasternak

Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings – Give the People What They Want
Daptone

Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings is an 11-piece band whose fifth album, Give the People What They Want, does just that. Press “play” and snappy, toe-tapping tunes pour forth, peppered with Jones’ smooth, soulful, and strong vocals. The first of the ten songs on the album, “Retreat!,” contrary to its title, surges forward into this melodious and fun retro-chic musical world. Saxophones, drums, trumpet, electric guitars, and tambourine complement Jones and her backup singers’ peppy interjections.

The second track, “Stranger to My Happiness,” features Jones’ reprimands to the person who “stole [her] heart away.” This turned out to be bitterly ironic, as the song itself stole my heart away by really bringing the soul. Here’s a challenge: don’t dance, I dare you. The total 1960s-influenced ditty “Making Up and Breaking Up Over Again” is absolutely repetitive and catchy. You’ll feel like a co-conspirator with “Get Up and Get Out,” as Jones croons, “No one can know that you are here” to her on-again, off-again lover. The ninth track, “People Don’t Get What They Deserve,” brings the cool with its punch, staccato sax riffs, building crescendos, and a chorus that almost reads (or, in this case, sings) like a line from Queen’s anthemic “We Will Rock You.” If the proverbs have taught us anything, it’s that “Cheaters never prosper,” a lesson Jones reiterates in this ninth song.

If you haven’t picked up on this yet, Jones has a really powerful and supple voice. The album experience is like listening to The Supremes circa 2014, but much, much richer timbre-wise, and more tonally satisfying. Soulfully warm and comforting, like the aural equivalent of a deep dish of mac and cheese, this funky album is the perfect antidote to the dreary days of January. So what are you waiting for? Get the funk onto your feet.

– Reba Wilson

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If Kashka’s new album Bound was taken off of iTunes, it’s likely only her close relatives would notice. Most people would argue that being in the top ten albums on iTunes or having over 100,000 views on YouTube does not mean that your music is better in any way, but a certain amount of recognition often correlates with an artist’s significance. After all, a little fame does mean that you’ve managed to grab the public’s attention. And this is where Kashka falls short. Her music is not bad, it just doesn’t stand out enough to merit repeat listens or referrals among fans.

In Bound’s first track, “Never Had It,” her voice is soft and sweet, sounding a bit like a more acoustic Lorde. But once the track moves on from a string of “maybe I was a fool to…” murmurs, it’s only to get stuck in a never-ending repetition of “baby we never had it anyway” which makes you want to throw out Bound for good. There are original elements in some of her songs, as she blends guitar and piano sounds, using a tambourine to give it tempo. But then the beat will pick up in a familiar, pop-y way and begins to bring to mind upbeat trying-too-hard-to-be-indie elevator music mixed with a teenager’s Disney debut. There are two reviews online and one of them points out the “something modern” that can be found in the new album. It’s true that if you pay close attention to the background sounds you can glimpse that it was thought-through, but you have to be really looking for it. All in all, Kashka’s new album Bound is missing a voice of its own. Sadly, it’s the type of music that no one will remember.

-Rochelle Guillou

Various artists – Afrobeat Airways 2: Return Flight to Ghana, 1974-1983
Analog Africa

2010’s Afrobeat Airways: West African Shock Waves, Ghana & Togo 1972-1978, a compilation of rare tracks by Analog Africa’s Samy Ben Redjeb from afrobeat’s golden age, was an unexpected hit with the music press that year, and no wonder, considering the quality of the songs and extensive and interesting liner notes. If anything, the scope on Afrobeat Airways 2 is broader. It extends to 1983, and as such has a more varied sound, taking in cheesier 1980s tracks, like Tony Sarfo & The Funky Afrosibi’s “I Beg,” and Waza-Afriko 76’s “Gbei Kpakpa Hife Sika,” which even has some harmonica in it. This definitely isn’t a genre that gets much exposure in the West (aside from the influence Afro-pop has had on uber-white indie rockers Vampire Weekend).

Perhaps the only criticism that could be levelled at Afrobeat Airways 2 is that many of the artists from the first record appear on this one, like Ebo Taylor Jr., Uppers International, K. Frimpong, and The African Brothers – not to mention several incarnations of De Frank. With close to a decade’s worth of music to choose from, surely there are more than 15 artists out there worth showcasing. That said, the above were all titans of the scene, and the sheer quality of the tracks makes any attack on the selection a spurious one. Brass is present throughout (as is Doors-esque organ), but on opener Uppers International’s “Aja Wondo” it is particularly irresistible. The rhythm section of the songs is also wonderfully varied. The bass on Waza-Afriko 76’s “Gbei Kpakpa Hife Sika” is pushed to the fore, whilst the drums on Ios Issufu and His Moslems’ “Kana Soro” could have come from the heavier rock songs of the period. But the highlight has got to be Rob’s flawless “Loose Up Yourself,” which combines delicate guitar and outrageous levels of funk. The tracks on Afrobeat Airways 2 may be billed as rarities, but they nonetheless serve as a great introduction to the genre.

-Joseph Renshaw

Get Scared – Everyone’s Out to Get Me
Fearless Records

The emo of the previous decade was a strange beast. A generation of suburban bands took the sound of pop-punk, the aesthetics of goth rock, and the histrionic poetry from their high school diaries, and created a musical movement that was catharsis for a certain type of angsty teenager, and a useful punchline for everyone else. But that was in 2008. Decades ago in musical microtrend years.

Utah five-piece band Get Scared (Nicholas Matthews, Johnny Braddock, Adam Virostko, and Bradley “Lloyd” Iverson, and Dan Juarez), have apparently missed the bandwagon with their new release Everyone is Out to Get Me. They hail from the slightly goth strain of emo that borrows as much from 1980s metal as it does from hardcore. It’s a combination that’s worked before. The Used and From First to Last traded in similar tropes to great effect. But Get Scared is missing their undertone of real desperation. The vampiric undertones here are more Edward Cullen than Nosferatu.

Out to Get Me isn’t without its pleasures: “For You” is bouncy and pop-y. Like early My Chemical Romance, but maybe with a little added whine. Also erring on the side of accessibility is “Us In Motion,” which aims for big and romantic, with its swelling chorus and ringing wall-of-sound power chords. It’s when they aim to capture strains of depression and vindictive paranoia promised in the album’s title that Get Scared seem to get a bit stale, as if they don’t have much new to say on the subject.

If Out to Get Me had been released between seven and ten years ago, it could have been a bona fide hit, riding the coattails of flashier, more talented acts. But emo has had to evolve. Scene success stories like Fall Out Boy and AFI have made their comebacks recently, but they’ve done so by embracing new influences – hip hop beats and electronic dynamics. Unfortunately, there are no sign of that here.

-Hillary Pasternak

Blood Orange – Cupid Deluxe
Domino Records

Sultry, smooth, synthy, and hypnotic are all adjectives that describe British musician and songwriter Devonté Hynes’ most recent musical creation, the album Cupid Deluxe. With vocals from Samantha Urbani and elements borrowed from various genres – rap, jazz, and disco – the album is cool personified. Released November 18, Cupid Deluxe is part of a profusion of creative endeavours for Hynes; in the past he has written and produced music for artists such as Florence and the Machine and Solange Knowles.

Cupid Deluxe begins with a hypnotic beat and shuffling, reverb-laden percussion, including repeated riffs. Suddenly, suavely, Hynes’ voice pours in the lyrics of “Chamakay.” Next up is “You’re Not Good Enough,” a catchy 1980s funk tune with smooth vocals. Then “Uncle Ace” fills the room with sounds redolent of disco, updated for 2013. Vocals and jazzy saxophone solos combine with disco-inspired riffs to create a musical hodgepodge that can only be described as delicious.

Songs like “No Right Thing” and “On The Line” are more laid back, with the latter offering up a R&B vibe. Smooth saxophone and a woman talking in a French accent update “Chosen,” which might otherwise resemble a 1980s pop ballad. The album takes a digression through rap ballads “Clipped on” and “High Street.” The latter, about gaining inspiration from the streets and persevering on the path of musicianship, is a cleverly worded and intelligent song. The lyrics are most important here, instrumentals serving as a backbone.

Some films make you laugh and cry; this album does the musical equivalent, as it takes you on a genre-instigated tour of an array of feelings. Despite this variety, Blood Orange’s sound is consistently able to captivate.

– Reba Wilson

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At the top of the museum’s grand staircase, visitors will find themselves in a magical space, enveloped in bossa nova and in near-darkness punctuated by accent lighting. It is Chihuly’s capacity to combine patterns, texture, and light that makes his work what it is.

The product of meticulous skill and human work, Chihuly’s art still manages to stay firmly rooted in nature. In some of his pieces, wood serves as a base, reflecting enormous glass sculptures’ humble beginnings as grains of sand. The “Macchiato Forest” collection even owes its name to nature, with spotlights illuminating the scallop-edged pieces in an array of bright colours and patterns.

The second room displays “Glass Forest #6,” an astonishing assortment of tall glass pieces, with trunks of neon colours lit up from the inside. Beyond this forest, museum-goers will find a breathtaking arrangement of glasswork displayed in long wooden boats, again showing Chihuly’s penchant for holding onto the natural world.

Flowers, glass tendrils, and balls come together in colourful contraptions; the intricacy of Chihuly’s work is impressive. Rich colours and detailed textures are the order of the day; one cannot help but wonder at the time and energy each collection must have taken. Indeed, Chihuly is known for working on his series over the course of decades. His influences reach back to his childhood memories and life experiences. He derived his admiration of glass, colour, and flowers from an early age – his mother was a passionate gardener.

A highlight of the exhibit, “Persian Ceiling” involves a number of Chihuly’s pieces in different shapes, colours, and sizes – all floating, suspended, over a transparent ceiling. Light filters into the room through this decorative ceiling, casting streaks of rainbow on the walls. Attendants are encouraged to admire this piece by lying on bean bag chairs or sitting on the floor.

The settings of the exhibit will only help visitors immerse themselves in the art. Chihuly’s work is well framed by the museum’s imposing architecture, which mirrors both the vast scale and intricate detail of the pieces themselves, four of which were created specifically for this exhibition. So forget any preconceived ideas you might have about blown glass and let yourself wander into Chihuly’s world.

Visit the exhibit’s website to watch a video documenting the installation of Chihuly’s work “The Sun,” currently sitting outside the Museum of Fine Arts. Ticket for students are $12, with a discounted rate on Wednesday evenings.

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Among other things, de Broin’s work is made of prints, plaster, film, pumps and recycled materials. It illustrates urban living and human wastefulness in a way that is both insightful and entertaining. From a short film of abandoned cans rolling in an autumn breeze to an inverted bronze statue inspired by the Statue of Liberty (appropriately called “The Abyss of Liberty”), the exhibit shows de Broin’s diversity of ideas and artistic talent.

De Broin proves there is still something interesting in objects that seem to no longer have any use – it’s just a matter of perspective. A shattered light bulb sits atop an illuminated podium, as if announcing “I am still important.” Indeed, the artist seems to be insisting on the relevance of what has been discarded – anything ranging from old batteries, school desks, a suitcase.

But de Broin is not simply teaching a moral lesson. He is also exploring his own imaginative ideas. One installation involves footage of him pumping air into a slightly filled water bottle using a bike pump. The pressure builds, the bottle takes flight and the water is set free.

De Broin’s clips – filmed in front of abandoned buildings, at the Eiffel Tower, in a field, and at a tourist-filled Montmartre lookout – show the eccentricities of modern art, delivered to perfection with the artist’s quirky sense of humour. The entire exhibit is punctuated with seeming incongruities. Take, for instance, “Blue Monochrome,” a dumpster that has been revamped into a swimming pool, complete with integrated lighting, a heater and a pool ladder. De Broin certainly gives new meaning to the term ‘dumpster diving.’

De Broin creates these paradoxes by combining seemingly opposite elements – a sink that expels fire and water, or an alarm that rings silently. It is not any one of these works individually that make the exhibit, but rather the wide variety they form collectively.

One film in the exhibit shows footage of the artist’s project for the Parisian Nuit Blanche festival in 2009. The artist had the largest-ever disco ball (which he made himself) hung from a 50-metre crane in the Luxembourg Gardens. This footage shows the illuminated disco ball casting interesting shadows over the famous gardens. Displayed on four vertically stacked televisions, the footage is impressive in itself, but especially so when the viewer considers the disco ball was created with 1,000 mirror pieces. De Broin certainly knows how to give his audience material for reflection.

Michel de Broin’s exhibit at the Musée d’art contemporain runs until September 2, 2013. 

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