Hip-hop has changed the name of the American Dream. It has transformed white-picket fences into 22” rims on a blacked-out Escalade. It has changed a dutiful wife and kids to a harem of women and a loyal entourage. Climbing the corporate ladder has become burning the corporate ladder, just to build it again, but this time with diamonds. In the same line as fast cars and quick women, hip-hop moguls rise swiftly, but fall faster. Face Off is here to pick up those tattered, dusty pieces left behind by the has-beens and once-was, polish them off, and present you with a sparkling competition.

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Depravity reigns supreme in today’s intellectual music circles. It seems the more ripped up and worn down you sound, the more indie street-cred you are entitled to. A correlation has developed between your Pitchfork score and the number of visible track marks on your arms. Even quality sound mastering is often dismissed as overly “corporate” or pandering to a public uninformed to the virtues of the “lo-fi” revolution.

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The Faceoff Manifesto

Comrades,

Today we are challenged by a formidable adversary: the unstoppable onslaught of information. From Ethics to Accounting, forcible redistribution of brain cells has left us forgetting our roots, forgetting what we once held so dear. Too many times we let the shallow, angsty, one-time hits of our adolescence get lost amongst the impertinent sophistication of “adulthood!”

Today, we return to our roots. We reclaim what was once ours. We take back those simple, addictive tunes that inspired our younger selves! Read More »

The weekend started on Thursday night, stepping out of a taxi at Union Station and dropping my new iPhone directly under the wheels of a passing bus, which miraculously left it unscathed. Perhaps this is some omen whose meaning I have yet to unravel, or maybe just a testament to Steve Jobs’ brilliance. Regardless, I was on my way up to New York City to spend the weekend seeing two concerts and sustain some well-deserved permanent hearing damage.

I arrived at the Strokes show Friday night in the middle of the opening act, a group of unrecognizable and unremarkable hipsters wearing vintage hats. Minutes after they exited the stage, yet another group of hat-wearing guitar-slingers ran on, saluted the crowd a Happy April fool’s day, and proceeded to play what, to me, sounded like 80’s cover songs.  This, as I learned the next day, was Elvis Costello making a surprise appearance to play three songs to a sold-out Madison Square Garden crowd. Another 30 minutes and lead singer Julian Casablancas ran to center stage, the crowd erupted with approval, and the show began. Read More »

Six Organs of Admittance is a project of incredibly prolific guitarist Ben Chasny, maybe better known for his work with psychedelic group Comets on Fire. Considering Asleep on the Floodplain is Six Organs’ 26^th release since its formation in 1999, it’s hard to see when Chasny gets time to sleep.

Asleep on the Floodplain simultaneously invents and masters a new genre I can only dub “world-folk-trance.” The primary sound of the album is a simple unadulterated acoustic guitar playing technically and mathematically simple phrases, layered above a mixture of electronic drones, rumbling bass, and the occasional exotic instrument or vocal accompaniment. The album crawls at the pace of a lullaby and spends a lot of its time re-voicing old melodies, reiterating the dream-like quality through instrumental “chanting.” Read More »

It is a dubious honor to review the first recordings of a young artist. On one hand, you might be commenting on a fledgling super-star, while on the other hand, it’s likely you are witnessing yet another failed attempt at fame. I am happy to announce I think I have found the former.

The breathy enthusiasm of singer Chloe Chaidez gives shows that she perceives reality through the lens of a world-wise optimist, not surprising for a band that has risen to underground prominence faster than the time it takes Kanye to think up something clever to tweet (which must be fast, considering his prolific tweeting). Chaidez is a meager 16-years-old and still in high school, with a voice and sex-appeal even Justin Beiber should be jealous of. Read More »

The album cover of Mine is Yours displays what one might expect of the has-been indie hard-hitters: a sloppily written note scrawled across a plain white background. Cold War Kids made their career out of the loud, edgy, blues-laden improvisation of fuzzy guitars, and the infectious passion of lead singer Nathan Willet. The main problem with Mine is Yours might be the fact that it contains none of these crucial elements. Instead, one wouldn’t be entirely at fault if you popped in the CD and mistook the album for the latest Daughtry release. Read More »

The guardian called them “Fantastic, if bemusing,” Pitchfork compared them to the insanity of MTV’s pop phenomenon Jersey Shore, and their front man has a Lady Gaga-esque drive to take over the world. You might be asking yourself who the hell Die Antwoord is.

I was asking myself the same question as I stood on New York City’s Governor’s Island this summer, in a crowd of ten to twenty thousand hipsters waiting between sets by Sleigh Bells and M.I.A., when a tiny woman in a sliver dress and a man in a white robe took to the stage. At first I thought it might be a couple of high schoolers about to go streaking, but was soon corrected when a heavy synth beat dropped and Watkin “Waddy” Jones (the scrawny white lead) began to sing his anthem “Enter the Ninja”.

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