Heard Here

Hood
Cold House

Just as one can talk about the difference between the rock produced after Nirvana’s Nevermind and before it, one can talk about the music made before and after Radiohead’s second and third albums, The Bends and OK Computer. These three records had a profound influence on the rock written in its wake, and just as there were a slew of bands who aped Nirvana’s style, there were many, like Muse and Grandaddy, whose music owed a sizable debt to Radiohead’s two monumental recordings. Now that Radiohead version 2.0 has been unveiled with the release of Kid A and Amnesiac, we are beginning to see bands whose style has begun to reflect that influence and/or whose music is getting more attention because of the mainstream acceptance of Radiohead’s later albums.
Emanating from the bitter cold of Leeds in northern England, Hood’s latest release on Aesthetics Records, Cold House, brings a sound that reflects this trend. On their third full release of new material, the six lads have created something as chillingly vacant as their surroundings. By combining the sound of later day Radiohead and Mogwai’s Rock Action with a little Portishead, Hood has produced a record whose fascination is not diminished by its obvious influences.
Hushed, bitter vocals often manipulated beyond recognition, meld with scattered electronic beats, flushed guitars and keyboards to bring forth all the claustrophobia of a dark room or the quiet despair of a small northern town in the dead of winter. Everything from drum machines to trumpets make an appearance here, and there’s even a rap or two that add some spice to the mix.
Though every song has its appeal, despite the fact that some do little more then play with an interesting beat or sample, the opening three tracks and the closer, “You’re Worth the Whole Word,” seep under your tired skin with unrelenting melancholy. And while there seems to be precious little relief from the weight of Hood’s bleak world view, Cold House manages to betray an endearing fragility in its nooks and crannies. On “You Show No Emotion At All,” one hears the line “I heard the phone ring so late tonight that I, I thought someone had died,” over snappy synths and chiming acoustic guitars. On this record, even if it could mean more loss, all one wants is that phone to ring with somebody, anybody, on the other line.

–John MacDonald

North Mississippi All-Stars
51 Phantom

I was gonna start this review by saying how much I hate the Strokes and their obnoxious, self-absorbed approach to music, but then I realized that that would just be a pretty arrogant, self-absorbed approach to music review writing. Plus I could do that on pretty much any review, so why is this so special? So I’ll just talk about how much the North Mississippi All-Stars rock. And they do.
A lot of people – on this campus especially, which for some inexplicable reason has an automatic aversion to any music vaguely “country” – would be turned away by a band with Mississippi in the name. And y’know, whatever man. If that’s what it takes to be cool, be my friggin’ guest. I just get to feel like I’m more counterculture for liking bands nobody else likes but still rock, hahaha.
Seriously, though. The North Mississippi All-Stars manage on the same album to sound like the best of Jimi Hendrix, ZZ Top and some scuzzy roadhouse band that would scare all the other bands, with a bit of gospel thrown in for good measure. The band – two brothers, Luther and Cody Dickinson, and their high school friend Chris Chew manages – to achieve that great task of actually transcending musical boundaries. Part blues, part country, part gospel, 51 Phantom is that rare album which is not only listenable the whole way through, but also eminently enjoyable throughout, from the blues assault opening of the title track and “Snakes in My Bushes,” to the sweet, melodic “Up Over Yonder” and the minimalist blues-punk finale, “Mud.”

–Jacob Kramer-Duffield