Olof Arnalds
Innundir Skinni
(One Little Indian)
Part of the Icelandic music scene for a good decade already, Olof Arnalds is just appearing on U.S. radar, maybe thanks to Bjork, who appears on one track of this sophomore album. Evident here are melodies and phrasings descended from both Celtic and Asian traditions. Use of high-pitched, plucked instruments like the African kalimba (think thumb piano) and Peruvian charango (a 10-stringed mandolin of sorts) adds to the beatific, celestial quality of the music, and Arnalds’ voice is right in the pocket of that high-pitched, meek-sounding female vibrato that’s come back into style so prominently in indie music lately. Though it’s hard to get the whole feel of something that’s (mostly) sung in Icelandic, the melodies and accompaniments remind me very much of Nick Drake’s Pink Moon, an album rarely approached in pure, visceral emotion. —Tom Sturm
*
S. Carey
All We Grow
(Jagjaguwar)
All We Grow is Bon Iver drummer Sean Carey’s first solo adventure. Carey was classically trained as a percussionist and self-taught on piano and guitar, and this lush and contemplative album reveals his well-rounded musical background. With long instrumental intros and pared-down lyrics, the album feels like a long car trip, the kind that makes you want to stay in the car a while longer when you’ve arrived. There are no catchy hooks on this album, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t compel you to listen all the way through. Its layers of piano, guitars, muted percussion, and Carey’s gentle vocals have the repetitive qualities of Sufjan Stevens, but the artist clearly has a voice of his own. —Nina Schwartzman
*
Biffy Clyro
Only Revolutions
(14th Floor/Warner Bros.)
This Scottish band likes to compare itself to paragons of sludge like Kyuss and Tool, and, indeed, Queens of the Stone Age’s Josh Homme (with whom the band toured in 2008) puts in some guest licks that lend them some rock cred. Still, much of this album plays more like Three Doors Down, Weezer or, at best, the Foo Fighters or The Offspring. Singer/guitarist Simon Neil has a good voice and writes lyrics that are far from cliche, which may be the band’s saving grace: “I’ve swallowed half an hourglass/ so now the landscape has swollen up” (“The Captain”); “However they stand they’ll be swinging from the ropes/ unfinished and young or unhappy and old” (“Whorses”). Still, this one’s a rolling snowball of potential that’s unfortunately rolling in the wrong direction. —Tom Sturm
