Destroy Rock & Roll
Red Ink
Mylo's Destroy Rock & Roll, having been rocking the rest of the planet since 2004, has finally, finally, come stateside, and all I can say is, "Well, it's about damned time." Very much an accompaniment (or sequel) to Moby's Play, Destroy is built on a simple premise: You have your drums, your samples, your beeps 'n blips. Combine these three items alternately, and then loop and loop the results. It's simple saccharine, of course, on the dance floor and off. Take "Rikki": With slithery keys, synth bubbles, sampled guitars and vox minced into oblivion, the track is pure giddiness. "In My Arms" is a New Wave hat-tip, mixing Kim Carnes' "Bette Davis Eyes" and Boy Meets Girl's "Waiting for a Star to Fall" into loopy joy. "Guilty of Love" is classic cheese: hip-hop drums against frenetic strings and toy-Casio crescendos. Of course, there's some sappy, swoopy string numbers frosted by soul vocals, indeed rounding out the album in irresistible fashion. Matt Martin
Colour the Small One
Astralwerks
For fans of the HBO series "Six Feet Under," newcomer Sia should be recognizable. Her song "Breathe Me" was featured as the ending track on the series finale last year. The Australian singer-songwriter recently released her stateside debut, Colour the Small One, which features a distinct Tori Amos-during-her- electronic-exploration-phase feel. Throw in the fact that Sia's vocals are often dead-on for the "Cornflake Girl," and Amos fans should find this an easy listen. As for the haunting "Breathe Me" a provocative, mid-tempo song that grows stronger after each listen it's by far the best track on the album. That's not to say there aren't other keepers. One of the more engaging songs is "Butterflies," an off-center jaunt that incorporates staggering percussion with musical elements and effects. On this debut, Sia shows enough creativity and talent to warrant the attention of alt-rock singer-songwriter fans. John Benson
The Welcome Table
Ninja Tune
What Super Numeri's indefinable sophomore album, The Welcome Table, sounds most like is an interplanar transmission of krautrock manifestos, ambient futurism and jam-band theatrics. It opens with the 24-minute "The First League of Angels," which loops a surface layer of guitar riffs under strata of pulsing keyboard rhythms and ever-changing drums, at once recalling Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Pelican and The Mars Volta. Also like The Mars Volta, Numeri does know how to kill time, but they do it with more class and versatility, and less of that insufferable prog-rock elitism. There's tantric meringue, there's upbeat, feedback-swathed lounge, and there's a bona fide be-in anthem or two, mashed up and rewrought for Aught Six. "The Babies" is a piece of sustained triumph, starting from a club-appropriate bass slam that soars upward in a triple-helix of guitars, strings and digital flotsam. There's also some tepid free jazz, lame chiming and industrial blah, but the band knows not to belabor these whimsies too much, making Super Numeri as appealing as they are uncategorizable. Matt Martin i>
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