Alex Turney/Staff

Despite the cooling October air and looming midterms, hundreds of Berkeley students in warm sweaters, beanies and tie-dye clothing crowded Sproul Plaza early Friday evening in eager anticipation of the arrival of the celebrated Zion I hip-hop crew. About 5 p.m., local trap artists DRIPMOB took to the stage, warming up the crowd with their edgy reworks of popular hip-hop tracks. The throbbing bass took hold of the audience, triggering cult dance moves such as “the stanky leg” within a large breakdance circle near the stage. While the focus during the opening act appeared to be on the exaggerated dancing, attention shifted to the stage when the sky grew dark and Zion I arrived.

The Zion I crew, consisting of Oakland natives MC Zumbi and producer AmpLive, has toured worldwide but always returns to its Bay Area roots. The artists’ performance was intimate but energizing, drawing the crowd closer with their powerful lyrics and spacey tracks such as “Float,” a collaboration with electronic music producer Minnesota. Zumbi kept the crowd engaged with his improvised lyrics, which he explained after the show were “how (Zion I) learned to do music … through freestyling.”

Zion I has been on the rise in the melding genres of hip-hop and electronic, releasing tracks with electronic gurus like SBTRKT and Bassnectar. Recently, Zion I toured with reggae rock group Rebelution and reggae artist Matisyahu, experiences that allowed for further development of Zion I’s evolving sound.

“I remember the guys from Rebelution came up to me,” Zumbi said of an experience partying in Tahoe. “They were ultra encouraging … it was so cool to hear other musicians encouraging me from an authentic place.”

Zion I’s performance on campus, presented by ASUC SUPERB, was a free event open to all. “I feel like … every time I leave and come back I love (the Bay Area) even more, because I realize how unique and special it is,” Zumbi said after the performance.

On Oakland’s influence on Zion I’s sound, Zumbi said, “(Oakland) is so diverse. I feed on all that energy … I pull from all the good and the bad.” As we talked, fans scuttled behind the stage to wait to take pictures with Zumbi, who humbly obliged. He seemed unfazed by the interruptions, pleased to meet and hear from students. His down-to-earth outlook is definitely reflected through Zion I’s lyrics, as Zumbi explained that he’s frustrated by the superficiality of most rap music.

“(There are) things in hip-hop that I feel are not being addressed that are important,” he said. “I want to fill in the gaps, (but) not be too cerebral that it’s too static.”

It quickly becomes clear that Zion I, which has been a part of the hip-hop and rap scene since the late 1990s, is both conscious of and concerned about the expansion of rap music. Zumbi noted, “These days, the culture is watered down … it’s not a sub-culture anymore.”

He advises aspiring artists in the genre to “get in tune with what you believe in.” The future of hip-hop looks brighter, though. Zumbi believes there has been a resurgence in recent years of younger artists trying to reclaim something of the older era. “I pray that it evolves beyond that (too),” he said.

On future collaborations, Zion I hopes to work with rapper Andre 3000, Yasiin Bey, the hip-hop recording artist formerly known as Mos Def, or the Swedish electronic group Little Dragon’s vocalist Yukimi Nagano.

The campus crowd was thrilled by Zion I’s performance and proximity — many students lingered after the show to chat and take pictures with the hip-hop duo. It seems Zion I’s success is due to its ability to be incredibly inventive yet accessible — something unprecedented in the realm of spoken music of the present.

Contact Kate Irwin at kirwin@dailycal.org.

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Last Thursday night, in a rare occasion for a hip urban nightclub, everybody was dancing. For about three hours at the New Parish music club in Oakland, shyness and coolness gave way to bobbing heads and bouncing feet at the sound of the California Honeydrops, an Oakland-based band with music rooted in gospel, R&B, New Orleans second line and blues.

By the time the group took the stage, both floors of the New Parish were packed from wall to wall with people young and old, so much so that dozens were turned away at the door. Touring the United States and Europe behind their newest album of original tracks, Like You Mean It, the Honeydrops haven’t been back to the Bay Area since April. Thursday night’s show was something of a homecoming.

The band made its start as a trio in 2007, playing at BART stations in Oakland and Berkeley with a trumpet, a washboard and a tub-bass (or “soul-tub”). Picking up a few new members and a weekly gig at the Cheese Board Collective in North Berkeley, the Honeydrops got more and more work playing private parties — including a couple of shows at UC Berkeley co-ops — weddings, bars and clubs. By the time they began raising funds through Kickstarter to record their first full-length studio album, the Honeydrops had become a popular Bay Area act.

Making $26,000 through Kickstarter, recording Like You Mean It and picking up a manager — who happens to be a UC Berkeley graduate — the band has been busy touring and promoting for the past six months. The now five-piece group is becoming more and more accustomed to sold-out crowds and international recognition, playing festivals like Outside Lands, High Sierra and the Monterey Jazz Festival.

The California Honeydrops’ sound is an incredible mash-up of genre. At times sparse and soulful in the tradition of early R&B, at others a jubilant cacophony of horn and second-line rhythm, their music is difficult to label. Despite the all-over-the-map quality of its sound, the group finds coherence in its message and delivery, both of which are positive and celebratory. According to the group’s lead singer, trumpeter and songwriter, Lech Wierzynski, that’s what the music is all about — celebrating life.

“Some music makes you want to shoot yourself,” Wierzynski said after Thursday’s show. “That’s not what we do. Whatever’s going on with you, we’re going to make you forget it; we’re going to make you remember the good things. Sometimes you need music to remind you how good things actually are.”

Wierzynski, born in Warsaw, Poland, and raised in Chicago and Washington, D.C., grew up listening to gospel music. Though few songs touch on overtly spiritual themes — in fact, Wierzynski’s songs are just as often about loving as they are about love — it’s sometimes hard to control the urge to shout “Hallelujah!” But you’ll probably end up shouting something.

A Honeydrops show is a participatory experience. Out front, Wierzynski directs the band as much as he does the audience. During nearly every song Thursday night, he had the audience singing with him. At one point, he split the crowd and orchestrated a “freak-out” competition. He spent time between songs to check up on the general mood of the room, asking at least 10 times, “Oakland, are you feeling good?”

“We like to interact,” Wierzynski said. “I think that’s what makes us special. I think that’s what brings people back.”

“(A show) is like a conversation,” he added. “You’ve got to get everyone involved. You don’t play whatever you feel like playing; it’s all about connecting with people.”

When it comes to dancing, the audience needs no direction beyond the music. Whether it’s a funk tune that causes you to impersonate moves you’ve seen in “Soul Train” clips, a mournful ballad that makes you crinkle your nose and shake your head or a washboard-driven song that leaves you stomping around barn-dance style, there is no staying still. Thursday night’s Oakland crowd never stopped moving.

“It’s nice to play for the hometown crowd,” Wierzynski said. “I mean, they go the craziest. This is the freak show right here. The Bay Area has got some crazy-ass people.”

Now headed south and then on to Germany, the California Honeydrops plan on returning to the Bay Area music scene in January, starting with a New Year’s Eve gig at Yoshi’s in San Francisco. Word is, they might have a weekly slot at a new club, Leo’s, set to open on Telegraph Avenue and 55th Street this December.

Contact Eliot Claasen at eclaasen@dailycal.org.

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Lorde/Courtesy

I’m kind of over getting told to throw my hands up in the air,” sneers the teen singer-songwriter Lorde on the track “Team” from her wildly hyped debut Pure Heroine. Unimpressed with what her youth culture offers, the 16-year-old from New Zealand seeks to be an adrenaline shot to the currently comatose female pop industry.

On her debut, Lorde conveys the persona of an industry outsider who tears apart pop music from the inside out, pulling the curtain on all of its hollow luxury and fantastic delusions. Her sound makes her come across as a radio ambassador of the indie world without dulling its fresh bite — a rare feat. Her influences range from The xx to the Replacements. In songs such as “Tennis Court,” Lorde sings in a blase drawl meshed with brooding yet elegant synths, while sparse claps echo with ballroom grandeur. No one has ever expressed poker-faced dissatisfaction so sharply through a sonic landscape.

Her sound is hauntingly opulent at its highs but a bit derivative of Lana Del Rey at its lows. Yet Lorde’s lyrical prowess transforms an already strong debut into a mesmerizing tour de force. The songstress is blessed with a lyrical, razor-sharp wit. Her world is surreal, a bit dystopian and one in which the masses are ominously sedated. In “Buzzcut Season,” Lorde croons of “(living) in a hologram with you” while drinking “cola with a burnt-out taste,” feigning happiness as she silently suffocates in the emptiness of her modern culture.

Despite all the derision, Lorde is keenly self-aware that she’s a pop artist herself, which is what makes her persona so engagingly complex and strikingly deconstructive. She’s the perfect poster child of the post-digital era, in which everyone is painfully conscious of the personal brand he or she has developed in the public sphere. Pure Heroine packs the explosiveness of a cannon fired against lofty castles in the sky, presumably where the kings and queens of pop reside. A few years ago, Kanye and Jay-Z cautioned the world to watch the throne. Examining the charts, Lorde seems to have already taken a seat.

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Fool's Gold Records/Courtesy

A lot has changed in the past two years of Danny Brown’s life. After the release of his first studio album, XXX, in 2011, the 32-year-old Detroit native’s unique vernacular and quirky image have appealed to crowds across the country. He has moved on from drug deals and jail time to tour with rappers such as Schoolboy Q, A$AP Rocky and Childish Gambino, in addition to playing at festivals including Coachella and SXSW.

Tracks such as “Wonderbread” and “Clean Up” describe the violence he witnessed throughout his life and how, despite the past three years of international recognition, the torments of his past continue to haunt his sleep, keeping him up at night. Brown’s honest lyrics in Old reveal what troubles him and how he copes with life’s insecurities.

Similar to Brown’s changing identities, this album is two-sided. Side A brings some of his darkest moments alive in his solo tracks, whereas Side B reminds us this is still the flamboyant and eccentric Danny Brown who loves sex, Molly and smoking blunt after blunt. He even admits in the track “Lonely” that he is “a hipster by heart, but I can tell you how the streets feel.”

Brown recognizes the paradox of growing up. His youth has aged him. His drug-dealing past encourages further drug use, and now he is partying and acting young. In “Float On,” Brown slows down his verses and admits getting old for him doesn’t mean getting sober. He says, “And no matter how it gets I hold on / Rolling up this dope to cope I float on.”

Throughout the 19 tracks, we experience the old Danny sitting on his porch in Detroit selling dubs, the new Danny who enraptures festivals and the Danny who feels pressure to make honest and introspective music. Old relays an aura of complexity, not confusion. This album is dynamic because he is dynamic, and it encompasses who he is with full disclosure. Danny Brown may be old, but he still likes to party.

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Terry Richardson/Courtesy

Miley Cyrus is the living embodiment of a well-formulated “fuck it,” and so is her new album, Bangerz.

Here’s the thing about Bangerz: It isn’t a great album, but it definitely has a few good tracks. Aside from the infectious “We Can’t Stop” and the already contagious “Wrecking Ball,” you shouldn’t expect another “Party in the USA” from Cyrus’ fourth studio album.

Musically, Cyrus is certainly no Beethoven — and she’s never claimed to be — but she is still supremely talented. She shines brightest on tracks such as “Wrecking Ball” and “Adore You,” in which one can hear her voice’s unbelievable power, but is weakest on songs that shy away from a focus on vocals and lean toward a focus on production — “Love Money Party,” “4×4” and “SMS.” These producer-heavy tracks are unimpressive across the board — a big disappointment considering they feature some pretty impressive stars such as Big Sean, Nelly and Britney Spears, respectively.

Beneath the disappointing guest spots and consistently over-the-top production from Mike WiLL Made-It, Bangerz is, at its core, an album created by a grown-up Hannah Montana who has “popped a molly” one too many times and gives one too little fucks about anything. “So don’t you worry about me — I’ll be OK,” Miley raps on “Do My Thang.” “I’ma do my thing, ’cause I’ma do my thing.”

But throughout Bangerz, Cyrus doesn’t find her voice to actually do her own thing. While experimenting with a variety of styles, she fails to display any confidence in what her new persona sounds like, aside from other pop stars. “Adore You” might as well be a slow Rihanna love ballad, and “Maybe You’re Right” is almost another upbeat Katy Perry pop anthem.

The creme de la creme of the new Miley Cyrus can be summed up in the chorus of Bangerz’s worst song, “SMS” (featuring Britney Spears): “I can strut that strut, that strut, that stuff / Fucking bangerz.” Yes, Cyrus’ desire to strut her stuff is on full display throughout Bangerz.

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Taylor A. Vega/Staff

Low

Low’s slow-churning melodies and haunting harmonies were the antithesis of the warm, jovial midday sun they accompanied Friday on Arrow stage. The three-piece based in Duluth, Minn., brought the cold of its hometown to the city, interrupting its icy melancholy every so often with striking vocal arrangements that would thaw away the frost of its still-poignant tunes.

With a majority of the crowd sitting idly and enjoying the weather, the Sub Pop veterans brought a precision and attention to detail to their performance that some of the audience unfortunately could not fully appreciate. Despite the somewhat lackluster impatience of the spectators at first, Low won them over progressively with a consideration for volume dynamics that few at the festival could match.

This is where husband-and-wife vocal duo Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker thrive; their chemistry impressed not only vocally but instrumentally as well. The band is one of the few remaining that feels comfortably entrenched in the early ’90s glory days of fellow indie idols like Mazzy Star, even harkening back to the sauntering shoegaze of My Bloody Valentine.

Songs like the existential “Plastic Cup” burst from their muted verse portions as the two’s harmonies kicked in, prompting many to oblige as echoes of “you could always count on your friends to get you high” filled Hellman Hollow. Low certainly did not demand attention, but the quiet confidence of the group’s performance commanded it.

Loudon Wainwright

Stepping onto Rooster stage Saturday, a casual Loudon Wainwright III, donning denim shorts and a baseball jersey, was met by an equally casual 3 o’clock crowd. The area around Rooster stage, one of the smaller stages at the festival, was hard to maneuver in by the time Wainwright began his roughly hourlong set: Blankets and chairs covered nearly all available space on the ground, and a smoky haze covered everything else.

Known for the confessional and diarylike quality of his songwriting, the 67-year-old, Grammy-winning Wainwright kept it personal Saturday; most of the songs he played were about family, which is also the subject of his latest album, Older Than My Old Man Now. Reminiscent of a couple of tracks from his newest album that feature spoken word over rhythmic vamping, Wainwright told stories between songs, mostly about his family.

Although his subject matter and delivery were heartfelt, Wainwright’s performance lacked excitement. The extended periods of talking between songs took away from the set’s momentum and created an informal, living-roomlike atmosphere bordering on boring. Even those in the first row found no reason to get out of their lawn chairs. To exacerbate the problem, it was hard for a lot of people to hear anything at all. Those on the large slope to the right of the stage — which probably included nearly half of the audience — could barely hear the sound of Wainwright’s guitar, let alone his voice.

Wainwright’s personal and casual approach would have been better received in a more intimate setting. As it was, he had a hard time capturing the interest of his obliviously chattering audience.

Father John Misty

As the afternoon came to a close and the sun began to shine through the trees of Golden Gate Park at Arrow stage, ex-Fleet Foxes drummer J. Tillman, who performs under the moniker Father John Misty, took to the stage shielded by a giant iPhone cutout. The theatrics were clearly a commentary on one of the modern musician’s greatest grievances: the cellphone camera. Whether irked by the technological barriers between performers and their audience or simply teasing his fans with an onstage gag, the ever-quirky Father John Misty did not address the prop — nor did he have to.

Tillman, alone and armed with only a guitar, some reverb and his angelic vocal chords, put all of the quickly growing crowd at Hellman Hollow into a trance with cuts from his debut as Father John Misty, Fear Fun, stopping only momentarily to take a jab at Giants fans and professional sports team allegiances after a dreamy rendition of “Only Son of the Ladiesman.”

Compared to his SUPERB-sponsored Lower Sproul performance last year with an incredibly talented backing band, Tillman’s show at Hardly Strictly was a significant departure, marked by a focus on the singer’s most obvious talent: his voice. Although the twanging live guitars of “I’m Writing A Novel” were certainly missed, the slower version was a welcome alternative, even garnering some laughs from the audience with its ridiculous and caustic lyrics.

Long-haired and bespectacled with Ray-Bans, Tillman fit right in with his audience and fellow performers at the festival. His surprisingly raw set felt like a deliberate step away from the intricately coordinated live musicianship of his old Seattle-based project; the bare-bones setup of the stage and arrangements were unexpectedly pleasant in a day otherwise lined with banjo fills and stand-up bass. Tillman also took the liberty of letting loose a small host of new, unrecognizable material for longtime fans awaiting new Misty material.

Musicianship aside, the conversation and excitement surrounding the performance were undoubtedly signs of Tillman’s growing stock in the indie music mainstream. Taking the stage after indie heavyweights and fellow Sub Pop signees Low, the condition of the grass went from bad to worse as a mass migration of fans — many already quite inebriated by this point — stormed the Hollow to watch the Father preach.

“I’ll just call this what it is, my vanity gone wild with my crisis,” admitted the guilty Tillman as he strummed the final chords of “Now I’m Learning to Love the War” while still staring out into the audience from the painfully apt giant phone cutout as they pointed their phones back at him. Tillman’s performance was not filled with the glamour and shine of the cellular device he was mocking, but its simplicity and immediacy made it one of the most powerful of the weekend.

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Jeff Capps/Senior Staff

Signing to a record label can be a difficult decision for independent artists. Will the label constrain them? Is the tradeoff of gaining promotion worth the loss of independence? One record label that strives to eschew this problem is Pitchfork Records. The independent label has seven artists signed so far, one of which is the duo of lyricist KenSon and beat-maker Noah Boa, who are known together as Bottom Notch. With origins in the hallways of Berkeley High School, the hip-hop duo now have multiple EPs under their belt, and KenSon released his first solo EP on Thursday.

What separates Pitchfork Records from other labels is that its primary goal is to promote the artist. “It’s an interesting situation because it’s not really a record deal — it’s an opportunity to get more promotion and notoriety,” KenSon said. “It’s different in that the main thing they provide to their artists is promotion in addition to recording and video services. With Pitchfork, we can do pretty much whatever we want to do.” The label is based on the East Coast, which the duo hope will allow them to reach a broader audience.

The duo are also the only hip-hop act on the label, which puts them in a unique situation as the first to experiment with what Pitchfork Records has to offer in terms of mixing and recording music.

“A big opportunity it opens for us is that it allows other people to mix and master our music that we wouldn’t have had before,” Boa said.

Boa commented on how the group are particularly excited to work with Dave Esposito, another artist on the label who also happens to to be one of its co-founders.

In addition to their work collaborating with Esposito, the band are always looking to work with artists from different genres. One venue that allows the group to work with different types of musicians is the Ivy Room in Albany, where the duo perform every month with DJ Tycho.

“We did a show there a while ago to promote our album Fresh is In,” KenSon said. “A couple months later, we contacted them to perform another show, and they said yeah. After that, the owner of the Ivy Room asked us if we wanted to do a monthly show.”

KenSon also plans to perform tracks from his debut solo EP at the group’s next performance at the Ivy Room later this month. One such track is the single “Get Me Now,” which talks about the instantaneous nature of our society.

“I came up with the song when I was thinking about hip-hop music fans,” KenSon said. “Many of them always want more from the artist as fast as possible, which is kind of like the instant gratification mentality of our society today.”

While tracks such as “Give Me Now” or “Dear God” — from the duo’s Do Write Music EP — highlight the group at the peak of their lyrical and production mastery, tunes such as “Drinkin’ Song” seem a bit disconnected; the lyrics to these tracks are not nearly as strong or as intricate. The group are still in their beginnings, though, so there’s hope that their future tracks will feature a more mature undertone.

Although not every track is as fleshed out as every other, Bottom Notch show no signs of slowing down or giving up any time soon. The group have hopes of reaching double-platinum one day, and while this goal may seem far-fetched, their determination and perseverance are something all artists should strive for. With this kind of mentality, the band’s goal may not be so out of reach.

“I feel it’s better to go too far than to ever have it in your mind that you should quit or that you can fail,” KenSon said. “You are your own answer. Don’t let yourself distract yourself from your goals.”

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Carli Baker/Senior Staff

Beneath the red, green and blue-lighted pillars of Sproul Hall, London-based electronic artist Max Cooper played to a mostly student crowd of about 120 Thursday night. The free outdoor concert, put on by UC Berkeley’s ASUC SUPERB, featured a half-hour opening set by student group String Theory followed by an almost two-hour performance by Cooper.

A former genetics researcher at University College London with a doctorate in computational biology, the 33-year-old Belfast native has been writing and performing electronic music professionally since 2007. Starting out as a dance DJ in the late ’90s, Cooper came to realize his inclination toward composing and producing music while pursuing his doctoral and post-doctoral degrees in the mid-2000s. He has since released more than 50 original tracks and remixes.

Cooper has caught the ear of publications like Clash Magazine and IDJ Magazine, and his music has earned him accolades such as the title of one of Resident Advisor’s top live acts of 2012 and the fifth position on Beatport’s list of the top artists of 2012. Thursday’s performance came at the tail end of Cooper’s roughly weeklong North American tour, which included appearances in New York, Los Angeles, Seattle, Oakdale, Calif. (for Symbiosis Gathering), and Juarez.

The artist began his set Thursday night with a resounding crunch. Reacting to what Cooper considers his more academic material, the crowd nodded sporadically to broken, mechanized sounds coming at a crawling pace. With the introduction of more sounds, both rhythmic and melodic, there eventually emerged a recognizable song to which the crowd was able to move in sync — but always with abstract, soundscape-like underpinnings.

Through his music, Cooper tries to evoke feelings, images and different states of mind.

“I write music to communicate a concept or a feeling,” he said after the show. “I usually start with an image or an emotion, and I ask myself, ‘How can I translate this into music?’”

Throughout the show, Cooper created what he calls “musical environments,” characterized by minimalist instrumentation and effected sounds, heavy on the reverb. But these more thoughtful, evocative compositions were interwoven with undeniably danceable tracks, full of throbbing bass, hard-hitting drums, rhythmic sequencing and totally graspable melodies. For Cooper, it’s all about toeing the line between the academic and the danceable.

“I want people to have fun with my music, so it should be danceable,” he said. “But I also want to challenge people — I want it to be musically interesting.”

Though stressing the fact that his creative process is emotive and feel-driven, Cooper recognized some crossover between his previous career in genetics research and composing music.

“What I was doing before and what I do now both have a lot to do with taking something that’s more abstract and recognizing patterns within it,” he said. “Genetics is recognizing patterns in signs, and music is recognizing patterns in nature.”

As the night progressed, so did the amount of bounce in the music and movement in the crowd. Speaking to the musical evolution of the set, Cooper said that he never plans a setlist in advance.

“I don’t plan out the songs I play beforehand,” he said. “I get a feeling from the crowd and I stick with it. It’s all improvised.”

As shown through the multiple times he raised his hands in appreciation toward the audience, Cooper said that he had a great time playing on Sproul.

“The crowd was really open-minded tonight,” he said. “I felt free to do what I wanted to do.”

With a new album in the works, a busy touring schedule for the coming months and increasing critical and popular attention, Max Cooper’s continued success in the electronic music scene is as guaranteed as his groove.

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RCA Records/Courtesy

After disappearing from the Billboard 200 for half a decade, Justin Timberlake isn’t quite ready to let go of the limelight yet. Waiting a mere five months since his last release, the Prince of Pop has given his fans an entirely new suite of decadent pop, whose high notes hit the operatic, on the imaginatively named The 20/20 Experience 2 of 2. Yet, this isn’t a collection of B-sides that didn’t “make the cut” or the Amnesiac to JT’s Kid A but rather an album that stands ambitiously on its own. In Part 1, JT showed us a new mature side of him, completed by his other half, Jessica Biel. However, in Part 2, JT wants to remind us that he is still the casanova who brought sexy back in FutureSex/LoveSounds.

If Part 1 welcomed us back to Timberlake’s pop music kingdom, Part 2 has taken us on a neon-lit groovy tour of its nightlife district. Taking cues from Thriller, JT and Timbaland deliver slightly darker beats in an infectious, champagne-popping fashion. The heavy, gothic synths and funk guitar riffs in “True Blood” and “Murder” are ripped right out of “Billie Jean.”

Following suit, JT’s lyrics in songs such as “Cabaret” are much more wild and sensual, and the Hollywood dream girls of Part 1 are now seductive femme fatales, the kind with a price for the night. Both Drake and Jay-Z rock solid guest verses, detailing their hard-to-get temptresses, which are vast improvements from Jay-Z’s sluggish contribution to “Suit & Tie.”

Striving to be legendary, Timberlake refuses to be a Michael-emulating, one-trick pony. Toward the end of the album, he takes more musical risks, though with varying degrees of success. In “Drink You Away,” JT channels the inner Tennessee kid in him that we often forget about. The song is a hard-stomping southern rock anthem fueled by Jack Daniels. However, the album takes an unexpected odd turn on the final track, “Not a Bad Thing,” a boy band-esque love ode that belongs more on a Jesse McCartney comeback album. While The 20/20 Experience 2 of 2 attempts to be JT’s most thematically unified album, it ironically ends as his least cohesive.

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John Speirs/Courtesy

CHVRCHES created viral exhilaration in the world of music blogs with singles such as “The Mother We Share” and “Recover.” After that, the electro-pop trio from Scotland became one of the most anticipated acts of 2013.

However, with their first EP released in March and their first LP released now, six months later, one has to wonder if the hype rushed the release. The verdict? It certainly feels like it. All four of the singles they had prior to this album were within the first seven tracks, separated by one song each. The good news is that the first eight tracks are fantastic and absolutely worthy of the praise they have been given.

The bad news is that the rest of the album does not follow suit, perhaps with the exception of “By the Throat,” suggesting that a bit of front-loading happened.  “Science/Visions” kicks off the second half of the album and comes off like a bad attempt at being The Knife or Crystal Castles. “Lungs” continues the suffocation, with a sound comparable to The Naked and Famous’ recent sophomore effort. To end the album, “You Caught the Light” is an anthem that would have played for the homecoming king and homecoming queen at an ’80s dance or maybe from the boombox in “Say Anything” (not that there’s a problem with that — it’s just not worth calling a visionary record). Anyone venturing to listen to the deluxe edition is punished with two more mediocre offerings, with “Broken Bones” in particular breaking The Bones. Ultimately, a bait-and-switch.

The energy suddenly becomes half-assed, like the remnants of a karaoke bar as it is collectively sobering up.

That same energy seems to be missing from their live performances. Perhaps this is in part due to the fact that the album was mixed masterfully by the legendary Rich Costey (whose credits include The Shins, Muse and Nine Inch Nails). Lauren Mayberry’s voice and the surrounding instrumentation are in unison throughout the album, but there have been issues replicating that in concert (and one quick YouTube search will confirm it).

Despite that, they are still a promising band whose songs will undoubtedly find plenty of radio time. There are moments where CHVRCHES deliver divine intervention to an otherwise overpopulated, repetitive electro-pop genre.  Regrettably, the hype may have rushed them into debuting with the bones of what you believed would be a full-bodied, cohesive album.

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