Intoxicating take on classic rock

Intoxicating take on classic rock

Indie rockers The War On Drugs and Mark McGuire are an intoxicating mix of rock, drone and Americana

Sound Bites

Albums of the week

Indie Rock LOST IN THE DREAM The War On Drugs Secretly Canadian

Acoustic/Ambient ALONG THE WAY Mark McGuire Dead Oceans

Cynical hipsters brand it dad rock, a brand of 1980s classic rock exemplified by acts such as Survivor, AC/DC, Bruce Hornsby, Dire Straits, Mike and the Mechanics, not forgetting all things Phil Collins.

These musicians have straggly, big hair (or sadly receding hairlines), wear bleached denim jackets and shuffle sideways onstage.

Then again, you shouldn't trust cynical hipsters. If only they probe beneath the surface, like this week's artists of the week, Adam Granduciel and Mark McGuire.

Granduciel, 34, mastermind behind Philadelphia indie- rockers The War On Drugs, and McGuire, 28, guitarist of Cleveland electro-ambient rockers Emeralds, have come out with deeply personal takes on classic rock. They wade into it, then resurface, anew.

Working out his depression and paranoia, Granduciel has produced one of the year's emotionally and musically open records, Lost In The Dream. It helps that the man sounds like late-era Bob Dylan, the wheezy, slivermoustached godfather of soul-rock.

The music is cathartic without being too overt. In Disappearing, one of a handful of songs here clocking in at around six minutes, he re-enacts the state of loss rather than singing about it.

Ringing guitars fall like an afterglow as Granduciel emits a thin, vulnerable purr that floats like a satellite in the universe of loneliness.

The effect is simultaneously lo-fi and tactile.

A song such as Suffering trudges at the start like another one of Mark Knopfler's blue-collar dirges, but soon blooms into a guitar-drone mind-freak as piano tinkles and electric riffs are processed. You float along, not exactly comprehending what's going on, but it's okay.

The nine-minute opener, Under The Pressure, swirls and dips like My Funny Valentine gone Springsteen, as the singer repeats the title, chugging against such tension.

Compared to Granduciel, McGuire doesn't sing very much. Even when he does, the vocals are woven into a sonic meditation on what he deems as "an odyssey through the vast, unknown regions of the mind". It may sound a little cuckoo for sane folks, but then sane folks are usually afraid of taking chances.

Arranged in four suites in response to a short story provided in the liner notes, Along The Way sounds barmy, but comes off balmy. It's an epic manifestation of the kind of noodling few appreciate in a bass guitar, or the soft-synth intro before a huge chorus comes crashing in.

Songs like In Search Of The Miraculous meld that classic-rock trope with another oft-maligned genre, New Age music. Barely discernible chants infuse To The Macrobes (Where Do I Go?), accented by a motorik beat and sci-fi F/X.

It's as if we are observing Earth from the moon, gasping at its azure hues, wondering where we have been.

Pop/R&B/Soul LIFT YOUR SPIRIT Aloe Blacc Interscope

Who doesn't love a fairy tale?

American retro-soulster Aloe Blacc broke through with his vocal performance in Avicii's hit Wake Me Up and has now scored his first British No. 1 single, The Man.

His third album, Lift Your Spirit, is pumped with the same kind of hand-in-the-air soulful optimism. He's been around the block and finally the sun is rising.

Cribbing a line from Elton John's Your Song, Blacc hums and trills with joie de vivre.

Imagine John Legend but not bogged down by piano. Or a male version of India.Arie with more Hallmark-styled platitudes.

And there you have it: A nifty-footed smooth operator who cruises through such soul-folk ditties such as Love Is The Answer and Wanna Be With You, all the way to the bank.

Pop SHAKIRA Shakira Sony Latin/RCA

Shakira flits between personae with a booty twitch.

Colombian hip-shaking vixen or sweetie-pie judge on The Voice? You don't have to pick.

On paper, her 10th album shouldn't work. Here, she throws everything at the Velcro wall and see what sticks.

Frolicking with Rihanna in Can't Remember To Forget You, a reggaefied pop doozie or just going brainless in a techno party no-brainer Dare (La La La) - actually a World Cup anthem - she's oodles of charm.

One moment, she dedicates a sappy ode (23) to her hunky hubby, footballer Gerard Pique, and the next, she lashes two-face exes who are after her money.

Pop Rock/Dance Pop LOUDER Lea Michele Columbia ½

It's hard to separate Lea Michelle from her Glee character Rachel Berry - you'd read a gazillion subtexts into lyrics such as "I know I gotta get out into the world again" from Cannonball and feel your heart go out to her.

Conniving strings and plangent piano shore up the last song, If You Say So, an account of her last texting session with late boyfriend Cory Monteith, and it's churlish to be unmoved.

Herein lies her problem: Ever the good girl, she never really lets it rip. Everything is workshopped to a T, Celine Dioned to the point of melodrama.

A Broadway veteran, she runs through pop ballad Cue The Rain with note-perfect emotions and you clap like a seal.

This article was published on April 10 in The Straits Times.

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