Check Minus

Maybe it’s my affinity for new wave bands such as A Flock of Seagulls or maybe it’s my love for all the great things that are affiliated with Wham City- But I really enjoy this album.

Originally formed in North Carolina before relocating to Baltimore, Future islands brings a unique sound to their new album out from Thrill Jockey.

It is refreshing to hear a new take on this genre of music that hasn’t already been played out in recent years. While it is based on the same sound as the new wave bands of the past, Future Islands brings a post-punk edginess and lyrical darkness to the energetic dance beats of the genre. They take the new wave aesthetic and infuse their own brand of heat wrenching dramatics.

The vocalist’s (Sam Herring) raspy voice adds a seriousness to the feelings the lyrics are trying to convey. Whether it’s his sharp sound in Long Flight or the grandiose delivery in Vireo’s Eye Sam’s voice adds a dynamic to the sound that has the ability to further engage the listener to lyrics in which they can already relate.

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In the genesis of any truly unique genre of music, there is a clearly defined sound and a clearly defined mentality or set of values that exists within the typical fan of said sound. As time goes on, that sound and mentality may increase in popularity, inspiring sub-genres, spin-offs, and the ever-despised fakers.

Whatever the case, as time goes on and as a given musical genre grows and evolves, it becomes less and less the clearly defined seed of creativity it once was and more a mere root of inspiration that runs through the various offshoots.

It is for this reason that “indie” is the new “punk.”

In its early years, “punk” had definition, both as a unique sonic experience and as a rebellious, middle-finger mentality toward the establishment. Fast-forward a decade or two and things get mighty blurry. Nowadays, everything can be a little “punk” if it wants to be.

Modern mainstream “punk” isn’t dangerous or sincere – it’s trendy and purchasable. True punk never cared to be mainstream, and that’s exactly why it blew up – there’s nothing cooler than someone who does their own thing and couldn’t give a shit less what you think of them.

Enter indie rock. Similar to early punk, early indie rock had a fairly uniform and recognizable sound and attitude. They weren’t in it for the fame and money. They shied away from major labels, or were simply ignored by them, and they didn’t dress to impress. They put out their albums on vinyl – before it was cool again – for crying out loud.

Enter the digital revolution. Pro Tools, home recording rigs, MySpace, Facebook, P2P filesharing services, torrents. Suddenly the means of self-production, distribution, and promotion are cheaper and more accessible. Suddenly major label support is harder to justify. Suddenly, every band wants to be independent.

And so, as with punk, at one time “indie” rock identified a particular sound, but now, because so many artists have latched onto the indie attitude of DIY, we have artists from all genres going “indie.”

A great example of this is Radiohead. Yes, that Radiohead – a band that could sell out Madison Square Garden every night of every day of every year, forever. Clearly not a bottom feeder, Yorke and company are “indie” nonetheless per the fact that they have no major label backing. They do it all on their own. They may not sound indie, but they operate indie.

Then there’s “indie music,” which is where the watered down nature of the term becomes most evident. Let’s see… there are indie bands that don’t play indie music (Minor Threat or Reel Big Fish), bands that play indie music that have major label support and thus are not truly indie (The Shins or Manchester Orchestra), and then you’ve got Sufjan Stevens, who is an indie artist who plays indie music.

But then again, what the hell is indie music anyhow? A particular sound defined by some elite panel of hipster judges? It’s easy to see why musicians themselves eschew genres, since a band can be defined differently depending on who you ask. Take Wilco. It can be called indie, folk, rock, country, Americana, or even pop. Are any of them entirely wrong? Are any of them entirely right?

Any of those genre adjectives could mean a number of things to different people. They’re just vines of inspiration, winding in and out of various bands down through the years, and as time goes on, they thin out. It’s incredibly rare that a new band goes so far back to the roots that it is inarguably definable – both in sound and attitude – as that core, source genre. They still exist – dyed in the wool punk and indie bands – but surely they themselves cringe when attempting to explain their place in the musical spectrum, knowing full well that their hard-earned, well-deserved adjective is nearly meaningless to anyone else. And it can never go back.

We live in a world where Avril Lavigne has been called “punk” and “indie” bands can go platinum overnight by popping up in an Apple commercial. And there’s not a goddamn thing the hardest of the hardcore or the indiest of the indie can do to change that.

Indie is the new punk. But hey, it was a fun ride while it lasted.

1. A HOMELESS PERSON WHOSE NAME IS KNOWN BY ALMOST EVERYONE

Only in Athens could someone with hardly a dime to their name be considered a semi-celebrity. Surviving on the shoestring welfare provided by strangers gullible and good-hearted alike, Athens’ beggars have managed to transcend the common perception of being a nuisance. Now they’re an almost staple aspect of the scenery. And so long as they’re not going anywhere, you might as well operate on a first name basis.

2. SOMEONE IN A BAND YOU’LL PROBABLY NEVER SEE

Our sweet little indie haven is indeed the land of 1,000 bands. Throw a rock down Washington Street and it’s sure to nick a guitarist. And that guitarist will surely have a flier. And the flier will surely be for an opening slot at a show on a Tuesday, at 8 P.M. And the venue will surely only hold 20 people and have a semi-functional toilet that looks like a CDC inspector’s wet dream. And you will surely not be in attendance. But hey – when they blow up, you can say you met the guitarist back before they became sell outs.

3. SOMEONE WITH A WILD AGENDA

Between Christian fanatics in Tate Plaza spitting fiery damnation on all God’s creations – crazy preachers excluded, of course – and crunchy hippies snagging a 1,000 signatures from confused freshmen to save the endangered South American albino lesbian panda, Athens can sure as hell come across as quite the bizarre political hotbed. With self-righteous nut jobs skewing the bell curve so far in both directions, most of us – on both sides of the aisle – can safely count ourselves as “moderates.”

4. SOMEONE IN A COSTUME

Any day in Athens can be Halloween when you get enough affiliated young people together under the same roof – especially if that day is Tuesday or Wednesday and the bar is hurting for business. Both an opportunity for folks to express their creativity or lack thereof, themed parties and socials provide that rare opportunity to watch a sleazy Little Bo Peep skipping drunk down Broad with Superman, a commando, and a pirate chasing after her. It’s like a scene from a little boy’s imagination – except all liquored up and horny.

5. THE POLICE

This funhouse has rules, and those rules are enforced by 58,000,000 (or more) of Athens’ finest. The boys in blue are ubiquitous yet sneaky. Just when you think you’ve found a small corner of privacy and the coast is clear to take a quick piss in the parking deck, the sudden squeal of a Schwinn’s handbrakes tells you otherwise. You just got bike-copped, sucker! Enjoy the paddy wagon ride to jail with Superman, a commando, and a pirate.

6. A BARTENDER

Do the math. 60 something bars. Each bar has anywhere from two to ten bartenders on staff. Add some bar back and door guys in for good measure and it’s clear to see how it’s pretty hard to not know someone – or at least someone who knows someone – who works at a bar. In fact, how many bartenders an Athenian knows is a pretty fair measure of their extraversion. And no, your roommate mixing up shitty cocktails with bottom shelf in the kitchen does not count.

7. A WALKING BILLBOARD FOR UGA

We get it. This is a college town. You’re proud to go here. Now for the love of all things holy, ditch the Georgia branded hoodie, hat, belt, tie, pants, and wallet ensemble. Much like when someone goes to a concert wearing a shirt emblazoned with the name of the band playing, it’s just not cool. Either you’re trying too hard to prove you belong or you’re just that damn unoriginal. Unless it’s a game day – in which case, go crazy – keep that shit in the closet or at least to a subtle minimum. Maybe a hat. Just a hat.

8. AN UBER HIPSTER

This tragic individual, who is likely friends with that guitarist you threw a rock at, has mastered the fine art of looking unique – exactly the same flavor of unique as all his friends – by walking that fine line between dressing like he only buys clothes from Soviet thrift stores and looking totally homeless. What’s completely ridiculous about this guy is that he most likely bought his ironically retro garb at premium price from a company that merely went down to the local Goodwill and snagged up anything that looked like it came from a Soviet bargain bin – or a homeless person.

9. A DRUNK PERSON, AT 2 P.M.

While seeing a person drunk at 2 A.M. in Athens is as common and inevitable as death and taxes, witnessing a person completely tanked at 2 P.M. is an occurrence quite unique to this town. A few Saturdays a year, we have game days to thank for this. Game day drinking commences as soon as people wake up, and by kickoff you’re lucky to see people still capable of walking, much less producing recognizable syllables. Outside of game days, you still have the loveable bar regular who likes to head out of work early on Friday. You really have to give it up to this guy, because not only does he play by his own rules, but he also doesn’t seem to give a good god damn if you come in at 9 P.M. to see him drooling on the bar with a piss stain in his lap.

10. A STARVING ARTIST

Would you be interested in a handmade wicker shower basket? Maybe you’d like some wacky folk art made out of rusty coke cans and used shotgun shells! Or how about a mud painting of Jesus? No? Well, then this poor artistic sap is going to starve. He’s a part of what gives Athens its eclectic character, and damnit, he’s banking on your tourist ass wanting to buy some creative, nifty shit he made with his hands. Or maybe he’s a guitarist hoping you’ll come see his band on Tuesday. Or maybe he’s Alec Wooden hoping you’ll pick up his free glossy magazine.