The Friday Fivehead: Bobby, Mindless Self Indulgence, Mark Nicholas, Atmosphere, and Arkestra One

Holy shit—get in here before someone sees you out there! Didn’t I tell you to never knock on my front door? You want the entire Internet to know we’re doing this?! Do you have any idea what the government would say if they….<sigh>. Nevermind. Here’s the Friday Fivehead. Yes, in Russian: I did the translation myself. DON’T OPEN THE ENVELOPE—the CD-R in there will melt down and erase itself five minutes after you expose it to oxygen. No traces, right? OK, now when you go out the basement door, don’t go through the yard—just—aw, jesus, he didn’t just—

Oh! Hey there! What’s happening? I wasn’t expecting you this early. Who? What guy with a ski-mask pulled over his head running down the alleyway behind my place? I don’t hear a helicopter—oh, wait, that was just a sound-effect on the soundtrack to Good Morning Vietnam that I was listening to. So. Uhhh. Have a seat and let me run this Friday Fivehead past you. That’s not a real Uzi, by the way: it’s just a special controller for GTA 4 on my Wii.

This week we’re going all over the map, transcending international borders, genres, eras, species, orbits. So if you’re sensitive to sudden changes of direction and gravity, then you’d better take some Dramamine before we get started. A’ight, ready to go? Then let’s kick it:

Y’all know by now that I’m a major synthpop freak, right? Electronic pop music just makes my world go ’round. And right now, my world is spinning around at nearly 3000RPM because of Bobby (official site). Their latest album (only their second), Thursday In This Universe, is the most exciting, most melodic, and most beautifully-produced synthpop album I’ve heard in ages. There is not ONE track on the entire album that hasn’t earned a five-star rating in my media player. The opening track is a beautiful dance number written in honor of one of the bandmembers’ father, who passed away during the recording, but is still a killer dance track propelled by swirling synths and a funky plucked bassline. The current single, “Autumn Never Leaves” is simply gorgeous, with its sensual string intro and its acoustic guitar lead and its  “In Fashion” is an unbelievably beautiful track on which vocalist Julian Barndt’s voice is literally aching with emotion and the piano melody is perfectly matched with the main vocal melody. “Dancing in Los Angeles” is another floorburning dance track, as is my personal favorite “Masquerade.” The album has a few extraordinary ballads as well, such as “Ingrid Wait For Me” and the rather cheesy but still great “Romantic Flow” (I mean, hey, it’s a ballad: it’s supposed to be cheesy). The best thing about these songs is that they are propelled by bare emotion that most emo bands would give their asymmetric haircuts to express and propelled by sweet, memorable melodies. I cannot recommend this album enough. Seriously. Get it. NOW.

Mindless Self Indulgence (official site) has returned with another sizzling, Ritalin-driven album, the simply-titled If. These crazy motherfuckers really are too cool for the second grade, as spastic vocalist Jimmy Urine howls on the opening track “Never Wanted to Dance” (which will, right out the gate, make you want to leap up out of your seat and start flailing around like a complete idiot on crystal meth). There’s nothing on this album that pushes the envelope: it’s just another album of punkish, high-BPM freakout music that mixes ludicrous-speed drumbeats, crunchy guitars, and staticky synths with loopy vocals drenched in irony. Every word Jimmy Urine sings or shouts is sharpened with his silly, but usually spot-on, sarcastic lyrics that make fun of everything from the bands own fans to the singer himself. This is one band that resolutely refuses to take itself seriously, and aims only to rock and roll. In that sense, they really stand out in the pathetic ashes of the industrial-music scene. They aren’t trying to bring back the heydays of the 1990s or write music that will stand out for centuries—they write music that is fun, energetic, and very listenable even as it is harsh, pissy, and uncompromising. “Lights Out” with its bouncy little chorus “Punch your lights out / hit the pavement / that’s what I call entertainment” and its pit-summoning beat is the highlight of the album, but almost every track on this psychotic little shotgun blast of an album is worth listening to. But don’t—I mean don’t—listen to this album if you’ve got a headache, because it’s so driving and punchy that it will probably make your skull crack open and let a UFO fly out. Pegritz ain’t kiddin’ you, people. “All that violence makes a statement” as the song goes—and that statement is: rock n’ roll is not serious business. Lighten the fuck up. Now get out there and beat the shit outta some stupid goth kid in the pit because he thinks that goth is a lifestyle, not a choice.

Now for something a little less confrontational and vicious. Mark Nicholas has been writing great electropop music for years under the name Cosmicity. Mark retired the name Cosmicity so that he could work on “edgier” stuff, and, yes, his new stuff, released under his name, is definitely edgier than his Cosmicity work. The synths are more distorted, the beats harder, and the subject-matter of the songs a lot darker—but Mark’s excellent songwriting skillz still shine through in catchy, witty lyrics and heartfelt vocals. Make sure you download his Free EP to get a taste of his new stuff, which is supersaturated with energy, vocoded vocals, and bitchin’ beats. “I Wish” is definitely the standout song, with its relatable lyrics—”I wish I could stop scrubbing my skin / but I’m sure it’s still not clean.” A little darkness does Mark good: his “solo” work is a lot deeper than Cosmicity, and as such the songs are more memorable. But don’t think Mark’s now taking himself too damn seriously. Ooooooh, no. The Free EP comes with a awesome cover of Dr. Dre and Tupac’s “California Love” that is pure fun, and you all saw the video for his cover of “Maniac” that I posted the other day. If that shit doesn’t get you up and moving, then you’re either dead or a zombie, and no matter how much they may think they can, zombies can’t dance. Get on over to Mark’s site and freakin’ show him some damn love already! You can order both of his CDs—autographed or not—for just $20. You get more good music for you $20 than you will buying some shitty “alternative” CD at the record store. Get real. Get Mark.

Now let’s take a left turn toward the hip-hop side of the spectrum. Atmosphere, one of the most innoventive and deep underground hip-hop acts in the world, is back with a new album: When Life Gives You Lemons, You Paint That Shit Gold. I just saw Atmosphere on freakin’ MTV the other day—which is actually a very encouraging sign: it means that people are finally giving these guys the recognition they deserve, and perhaps—just perhaps—the era of ringtone rap is growing old and people are looking for more content in their music. Slug brings that content, rapping about real-life situations that bring us all down: drugs, bad life decisions, stupidity, relationships….You name it, it’s all on this album. It will speak to you. But this album’s a little different than Atmosphere’s last handful of albums: the music on this one, very jazz-inflected and laid back, is a LOT more memorable (damn, that really is my World Of The Day, ain’t it?) than anything else Atmosphere has ever done. This album is what Outkast’s Idlewild should’ve sounded like. Take “Puppets,” for instance. What we’ve got here is a soulful tracks whose big beat is armor for the powerful ’60s-soul harmonies of the hook. “Shoulda Know” and “Yesterday” are strong songs with lyrics that don’t hesistate to point the finger—both at you, and Atmosphere themselves. There is an everyman humbleness to Slug’s flow that makes you immediately identify with him, because he’s not rapping about bling and bitches and bullshit, but about stuff that has happened to him and you. This isn’t disposable, worthless ringtone rap, this is real world rap. And if you’re not brave enough to face up to Slug’s lyrics, then go listen to some shit like…Soldier Boy, or any of that crap (I don’t even know the names of these chumps, they’re so interchangeable).

And finally, let’s wrap up this Friday Fivehead with some nice, lowkey weirdness that will slip through your ears like brain worms and infect your dura mater with some acid-head chillout music. Arkestra One’s debut album brings some ’60s lounge music back to life, twists it, mutates it, then let’s it float free into the atmosphere of your mind like a silver balloon full of xenon. This is spacey stuff, yo. “In The Light,” the album opener, is pure atmospheric lounge music that will slowly come over you like the settling feeling you get after eating a handful of Valiums. You just want to sit back and turn into a puddle while the nu-jazz bassline and slinky beat of “I Really Want You” (featuring vocals from Nina Miranda) wraps around you like cool satin sheets and Miranda’s vocals caress your lips with the taste of a frozen margarita. Ahhhhh, yeah, baby…that’s the ticket in this thicket of swirling sounds. Even more upbeat numbers like the samba-infused “Train to Machu Pichu” have a Beat-Era coolness to them that just makes you feel sooooo, sooooo good. So quit abusing those painkillers, jack—here’s some musical Vicodin that will leave you craving for more than just another handful of hydrocodone. This music will literally make you feel poetic. Man, what I wouldn’t give to hear Slug from Atmosphere droppin’ some science over Arkestra One’s moonraker beats and hookah-headed melodies. As I’ve always said, music is better than drugs because 1) it’s cheaper; and 2) the highs last ever so much longer. Drugs just tweak your biochemistry. Good music tweaks your very soul. Arkestra One is good music. I am very tweaked, sitting here in lotus position languidly typing this sentence to the luscious lushness of “Shine.” Shine on, people. You crazy diamonds, you….

And, like, yeaaaah…that’s it for this week, peeps. I’m sorry I’m a little late getting your Fivehead out here, but my stomach was giving me hell last night. But hey, it’s still Friday, so don’t gimme no grief and bust my Arkestra-One-influenced chillness, yo. Peace.