Dance­able gen­er­ous heap with of a dreamy de­tours, ‘Lucky Shiner’ is solid elec­tro gold.

Pasatiempo - - Pasa Tempos -

SUF­JAN STEVENS

The Age of Adz (Asth­matic

Kitty) On his sixth full-length al­bum, Suf­jan Stevens wisely frees him­self from the self-ad­min­is­tered shack­les of his 50-states project (he has stated that he in­tends to cre­ate an al­bum for each state in the Union) and in­stead weaves a com­plex ta­pes­try about the in­tri­cate con­tours of hu­man re­la­tion­ships. The nar­ra­tive sounds in­tensely per­sonal at times, but the over­rid­ing sense is that Stevens has sim­ply been lis­ten­ing to a lot of Björk records lately. If so, good for him. “Now That I’m Older” boasts choirs that pull you into the song by your shirt cuffs, not un­like Björk’s Medulla al­bum, while the tow­er­ing “Too Much” re­calls the ma­jes­tic pop of Ho­mogenic. Stevens doesn’t have the vo­cal pres­ence of the Ice­landic icon, but he man­ages the most evoca­tive sing­ing of his ca­reer by com­press­ing his voice through elec­tronic fil­ters and taste­fully de­ploy­ing a heart-pierc­ing falsetto when the ma­te­rial de­mands it. Some of Stevens’ worse tics show up here and there. He still leaves songs in the oven too long, over­cook­ing them un­til they’re mush. His self-edit­ing, as al­ways, needs work: the stark and pow­er­ful “I Walked” high­lights how many of his songs are ham­pered by his ex­cess of ideas. Nonethe­less, the move to more elec­tronic in­stru­men­ta­tion down­plays the times when his am­bi­tion gets in his own way, and Adz rep­re­sents the kind of cre­ative leap that re­minds the lis­tener that too many al­bums suf­fer from not hav­ing enough ideas. — Robert B. Ker VAR­I­OUS ARTISTS The Orb and Youth Present

Im­pos­si­ble Odd­i­ties (Year Zero Records) The acid house years of the late ’80s and early ’90s may be a time bet­ter re­mem­bered than re­lived. Known for its ec­stasy-in­duced, hug-friendly “cud­dle pud­dles,” the acid-house scene ush­ered in the era of the rave, when dance mu­sic traded the club floor for far-flung lo­ca­tions in fields, forests, and aban­doned ware­houses. This com­pi­la­tion by U.K. DJs and pro­mot­ers The Orb and Youth col­lects some clas­sics and rar­i­ties from the era, with a fo­cus on Bri­tish artists. The sound of acid house is as in­stantly rec­og­niz­able as its de facto logo — a ridicu­lous grin­ning yel­low happy face. Acid house took the harder styles of Chicago and New York house and bathed them in patchouli, adding trance­like rhythms and psy­che­delic elec­tronic squelches. This three-disc com­pi­la­tion won’t make a con­vert of any­one who wasn’t there dur­ing what many called “the sec­ond sum­mer of love.” For those who were, these kalei­do­scopic club tracks show their age even as they pro­voke fresh mem­o­ries. This is a fleet­ing sound­track of a time be­fore me­dia hys­te­ria, drug abuse, and crip­pling rave laws brought this free-flow­ing scene to an end.

— Casey Sanchez

MAR­CEL TY­BERG Sym­phony No. 3/Pi­ano

Trio (Naxos) You’ve never heard of Mar­cel Ty­berg? Don’t be too hard on your­self; nei­ther had prac­ti­cally any­one else prior to the re­lease of this CD of his Sym­phony No. 3 (from 1943) and his Pi­ano Trio (1935-1936), ap­par­ently the first record­ing of his mu­sic. An Aus­trian com­poser and pi­anist, Ty­berg set­tled in the town of Ab­bazia — then in Italy, now in Croa­tia — where he com­posed sym­phonies, sonatas, and Masses in ad­di­tion to dance mu­sic for the lo­cal re­sorts. When the Nazis took over, in 1943, Ty­berg knew he was in trou­ble: he was one-six­teenth Jewish. In­deed, he was soon de­ported to a con­cen­tra­tion camp and is thought to have died in 1944 at ei­ther San Sabba or Auschwitz. He had taken the pre­cau­tion of en­trust­ing his manuscripts to a physi­cian friend, who in turn passed them on to his own son, also a physi­cian, who even­tu­ally moved to Buf­falo and shared them with JoAnn Fal­letta, con­duc­tor of the Buf­falo Phil­har­monic. Here she leads the or­ches­tra in a rous­ing in­ter­pre­ta­tion of Ty­berg’s com­pelling Third Sym­phony, the sten­to­rian brass writ­ing and gen­er­ally vi­sion­ary stance of which re­calls Bruck­ner, with al­lu­sions to Mahler. If you’re not a Bruck­ner fan — that’s al­lowed — you may pre­fer his warm-hearted Pi­ano Trio, sprung more from the lin­eage of Schu­mann and Brahms; per­haps Dohnányi is the clos­est com­par­i­son. Warmly rec­om­mended. — James M. Keller GOLD PANDA Lucky Shiner (Ghostly In­ter­na­tional) Af­ter re­leas­ing some sin­gles, an EP, and a string of pop­u­lar remixes for bands such as Simian Mo­bile Disco, Bloc Party, and HEALTH, U.K. elec­tronic artist/pro­ducer Gold Panda has un­leashed his first full-length al­bum. The in­stru­men­tal, 11-track, 47-minute Lucky Shiner finds him grav­i­tat­ing to­ward a glitchier, less am­bi­ent, more hip-hop-and house-beat-ori­ented sound than be­fore. Sam­ples of ana­log tape hiss and the skips and crack­les of dam­aged vinyl al­bums fig­ure promi­nently, as do pitch-shift­ing synths that ebb and flow like com­put­er­ized choral in­ter­ludes on a warped, ’80s-era Art of Noise record. Golden Panda — a Pitch­fork.com and A.V. Club elec­tro-hip­ster dar­ling who’s also a guar­an­teed easy sell for the more pop-ori­ented hoodie/skinny-jeans set — brings plenty of vin­tage Roland Rhythm Com­poser beats to this project, but he lay­ers and tweaks the per­cus­sion and sam­pling to cre­ate some­thing far more es­o­teric than he did in his pre­vi­ous work. His trav­els in Ja­pan and a stint at the School of Ori­en­tal and Asian Stud­ies lend por­tions of the al­bum a slightly au­to­bi­o­graph­i­cal sen­si­bil­ity (“Same Dream China,” “In­dia Lately”), but a ma­jor­ity of Lucky Shiner is grounded in ob­scure Euro­pean elec­tro and Gold Panda’s gift for min­i­mal-techno ex­per­i­men­ta­tion. Dance­able with a gen­er­ous heap of dreamy de­tours, Lucky Shiner is solid elec­tro gold. — Rob DeWalt

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