And because Meridene knows what they’re about, the songs they write come off with a confident swagger that draws listeners magnetically toward the songs. Meridene’s not-unfamiliar sound falls directly between the four-on-the-floor guitar anthems of Jimmy Eat World and the perky, quirky indie-pop of Ra Ra Riot. Despite not picking a niche genre (chillwave? witch house? we are making this up as we go, apparently), their precise musicianship, inescapable melodies and near-perfect pacing make their sophomore album Something Like Blood into a must-listen set of songs.

Those three elements are most evident in “Parade of Fools,” which is somehow not the first single (If you’re reading, Meridene: this had better be the second one). The song is a stick of dynamite; lit by the first solitary drum hits, the fuse burns closer and closer to an explosion as the band ratchets up the intensity of the song. The jagged but not abrasive guitar work teams up with the galloping drums and consistent bass to push the song forward. The keyboardist, playing two different keyboards at once, reins in the mood. The vocalist, singing in a pleasant tenor that fits well into the sound, spits lines about wives and husbands in denial that each are cheating on the other.

The fuse draws close to the end, and the band drops down to a piano so they can crescendo to the lighting of the fuse. While Meridene doesn’t seem like the band to go nuts and thrash about on stage (at least according to their YouTube videos), the last thirty seconds of “Parade of Fools” give them every right to. The up-until-this-point melodic vocalist loses it, raggedly screaming “And we wouldn’t have it any other way!” in a completely throat-shredding way. I’ve heard hardcore screams that weren’t as adrenaline-spiking. The band, responding appropriately, goes absolutely ballistic for the last thirty seconds. I’ve listened to it probably twenty times, and I still get goosebumps.  It is on my shortlist for song of the year, with Frightened Rabbit’s “Not Miserable,” Arcade Fire’s “Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains),” and The Tallest Man on Earth’s cover of “Graceland.”

Because Meridene is a band that knows what it’s about, it tackles the other eight tunes on Something Like Blood with the same reckless abandon, albeit in different ways. The Death Cab for Cutie shuffle of “Bible Belt” uses lyrical power as its killer element, and it works. “Juliet, They’ll Eat Us Alive” crescendoes from a solitary, pensive guitar and voice elegy to a full-on band and choir blow-out that ends with the vocalist dissolving into distant, undiscernable screaming. Again, the sparing use of the scream turns it into an absolutely mind-blowing effect. The desperation and intensity pent up in the last minute of “Juliet…” are fearsome and beautiful.

Meridene pulls everything they do together with brilliant touches. “A Man of Faith, a Man of Fact” starts out with an a capella performance that morphs into a marching band collision. “Everyone’s Waiting” kicks off the album with a bang and a dance-rock vibe. “Gone, Baby Gone” drops in sleigh bells to the mix and supports that quirk with one of the band’s best group performances. Each member contributes a significant element to the success of the tune, and it feels completely satisfying for that reason.

Meridene’s Something Like Blood reminded me why I like reviewing music. There really are diamonds in the midst of all the rough.  The band’s brilliant pop tunes are confidently written, intricately arranged and passionately performed; in that way, they’re a lot like Jimmy Eat World. There’s no catch to JEW; they’re some average guys writing good songs, over and over. Meridene does that too; they just have three dudes and a girl, as well as having way more variation than Jimmy Eat World. If you’re not all over “Parade of Fools” and “Juliet, They’ll Eat Us Alive” by the time you’re at the end of the album, you can stop reading this website, as our musical tastes just don’t align. Meridene is performing at the very top of the indie-rock heap, and I sincerely hope that this is their breakthrough album. They know what they’re about, and that’s attractive – as well as conducive to great songwriting.

Hear “Gone Baby Gone” here.

So, to get things rolling again at Independent Clauses, I’m going to write stuff that I don’t consider to be work. I’m going to go through the top five/ten/fifteen/twenty/who knows how many bands on my Last.FM and write about why I love them so much. It will not be hard to write about the Mountain Goats, Sufjan Stevens or Bleach; that is the precisely the point.

So, to get my brain moving in the music-writing direction again, I’m going to be writing about the Mountain Goats next time I sit down to write. I don’t know when that is, and I’m not going to force myself into a schedule. It will come when it comes. Here’s to hoping I get back on track.

If listening to music is like meeting people, then “Hope” by Moonlit Sailor is my new best friend. Moonlit Sailor’s 2009 instrumental post-rock album So Close to Life has many treasures on it, but none compare to the bliss of “Hope.” The song is so gripping that I can guarantee you I’ll still be listening to it in ten years.

Moonlit Sailor’s instrumental post-rock skews to the pretty side of the spectrum. They love clean guitar lines, soaring melodies, melodic bass work and acoustic guitar, which is unusual for the genre. They have much more in common with Unwed Sailor than they do with Mogwai. “Hope” is the epitome of their sound.

The tension-heavy intro, full of cymbal splashes and pensive piano flourishes, gives way to a solo acoustic guitar playing the beautiful main chord progression. Then, in an absolutely brilliant moment,  the whole band gleefully crashes back in at full speed and intensity. My jaw dropped the first four or five times I heard it. The only way the song could be more gleeful is if someone shot off a confetti cannon at exactly the moment they start up and let the colors rain down as the band tears through the song.

The band keeps playing through various iterations of the main melody, getting heavier and heavier as the song goes along. They keep building tension on top of tension, only letting a little bit of it go at each “chorus.” This makes the final payoff much more gratifying. The final time around, the drums are pounding, the guitars are wailing away, and the piano is twinkling is an incredibly satisfying way. After all, they’ve nailed it: the whole thing sounds exactly like what I believe hope sounds like. It is absolutely my favorite track of this year so far, and it wasn’t even released this year.

Moonlit Sailor doesn’t just bring the power on “Hope.” They know how to set up a tune and build it slowly, as only one song here drops below the 5-minute mark.  ”Landvetter” is a more pensive piece, but it retains an energy that doesn’t let it get mired down in mope. “Sunbeams” has a wonderful wide-eyed feel to it due to the simple yet powerful melody. “1994″ falls between the glee of “Sunbeams” and the thoughtfulness of “Landvetter” to create an incredibly beautiful song that would not be out of place on a Sigur Ros record.  The enormous synth moment at 2:30 of “1994″ creates an ethereal, uplifting mood that simply reminds me of a higher plane.

There are a couple of songs that drag on So Close to Life, but they are inconsequential compared to the number of tunes that pay off many times over. This album is an absolute must for all lovers of post-rock, especially those who like crescendos, tension and epic moments. Moonlit Sailor loves that stuff, and they give it to their listeners in spades. “Hope,” “1994″ and “Landvetter” are simply some of the best tunes I’ve ever heard in the genre. Highly recommended.

That’s why The Shoreline‘s cover of “I Gotta Feelin’” is my favorite track on their EP Fake It Till You Make It. Their cover re-envisions the party anthem as a pop-rock anthem. They remain faithful to the lyrics, mood and song structure; they just infuse the tune with a lot of guitar strumming and a pop-punk high-pitched voice. And while some covers become cloying in their pandering (someone played me a copy of a “Tik Tok” pop-punk cover that I could barely make it through), The Shoreline’s version of the Black Eyed Peas tune doesn’t get repetitive, annoying or gratuitous. It makes the point, slams it home and gets on to the next thing. It’s great. I like this song just as much as I like the original version, for completely different reasons. That’s the mark of a great cover.

The rest of the EP doesn’t have anything that possesses that sort of clarity and focus. As a result, the tunes are difficult to remember and just don’t make a big impact. If you like current pop-punk (e.g. Boys Like Girls, Angels and Airwaves, We the Kings, Fall Out Boy – especially in “Let’s Make a Mess”), you’ll like The Shoreline. But they won’t be your favorite band off the strength of this EP. Perhaps they have more in the tank, and they’re just getting started from here.

For now, I highly recommend “I Gotta Feelin’” to anyone and Fake It ‘Til You Make It to fans of the genre.

When their songs lose their looseness and develop a formality, they lose some of their charm. “Me and My Doe,” In the Morning” and “Oh Well” aren’t bad songs, but they have a bit of a stilted feel. The Wind Up Radio Sessions don’t need to pour their vibe into constricting song structures to make great songs, and that’s why “Let Me Go” and “Pigeons” have such a charming and sunshiny vibe. They just roll with how the songs come, and that produces magic.

They don’t all fall on the extremes of the stilted/easy-going spectrum; there are tunes in the middle that work to varying degrees. But it’s easiest to enjoy the Wind Up Radio Sessions when they’re taking it easy. And that’s good for everyone. Pre-beach party chillaxin’ music, or lazy summer day porch music; and seriously, who couldn’t use more of that in their life?

The lyrics are firmly grounded in breakupland, (“days all measured in defeat/nights spent wandering the streets” from the musically perky “Feel Good”), meaning they’re sometimes at odds with the music. Even “If It Isn’t Me,” the most heartbreaking lyric on the album, has an upbeat feel.

The songs themselves are great. The jangly guitars support buoyant vocal melodies and tight harmonies; the rhythm section holds its own nicely. The songs range from charmingly twee (“Tell Everybody,” complete with whistling and tap dancing) to bouncy (“Long Way Around,” which is a highlight) to beach-party-groovin’ (the excellent “Stay”).

If these songs were paired with any other set of lyrics (like, perhaps, Fountains of Wayne’s Welcome Interstate Managers, which draws off corporate suburban America for lyrical matter), this would be an amazing album. The songs themselves are awesome, but the juxtaposition with the lyrics is odd and difficult for me to get over. If you’re one of those people who never hears lyrics anyway, jump all over The Honest Mistakes Break Up. You will wordlessly hum the totally poppy tunes and necessarily be summery and enthused. It’s just that type of wonderful album. But if you’re a lyric-ponderer, this will leave you scratching your head. You’ll still tap your toe, but with confusion.

Grant’s talent as both a musician and a songwriter was obvious from the start of the show as he began with “What the Hell Do I Know” and “When We are Dead” off his new album. Grant led his trio with guitar and keyboard melodies that were well conceived. He conducted the violinist and dreadlocked cellist, who accompanied him in a clear and connected way. The simple combination of strings and piano matched Grant’s singular, full-toned voice and created a haunting, poignant sound that lingered in my head as I hummed between tunes.

Grant also showed an impressive ability to invent lyrics that dramatically communicate his exploration of the purpose of life, death, and love in a creative and unique way. Let’s face it, that’s often hard to find. He explores the never-ending question of politics on “Fear the A-Bomb” and “Plutocracy,” and his conclusions seem to be familiar and attractive to his audiences. The songs brought a strong response and energy from the crowd who made it to the release show.

Grant’s vocals are especially effective because of his ability to move between his breathy falsetto and his stronger voicing in a way that communicates unbiased emotion in each and every tune. This is especially true on “A Lesson for Kurt,” “I Know,” and “The Gift of a Poor Memory.” His strongest vocals appear on “Antithing” and “Fear the A-Bomb.”

All around, Grant is a talented musician and songwriter whose tunes are bound to get stuck in your head – and you will like it. His compositions for piano and guitar are creative, but his experimentation in composing for violin and cello really makes the album a step above the rest in this category. His insightful lyrics are hauntingly perceptive to the human condition. For some indie-folk that will catch your attention and satisfy your desire for both melodic and lyrical potency, be sure to look for more on Grant Valdes and At Peace At Last.

The best moments of Campbell’s Game Night come when her vocals and songwriting style fall firmly in the arena with Paramore and Flyleaf’s melodic heavy rock. She does have some passable lighter material where she plays keys, but the best work is when she picks up her bass and rocks out. “Sunbeam”  channels Muse, opener “Find Your Way” has an Evanescence feel (remember them?), and “Always Be” feels like a heavier Kelly Clarkson.

Of the lighter stuff, “Remember Me” has a nice driving vibe, and “A New Page” is pretty, but the rock songs make a more consistent impression. Her voice fits over the keys nicely, in a very different way than her voice fits over the rock songs, which is a nice surprise. It’s good to hear a voice with versatility.

Corrin Campbell’s Game Night is a solid effort that establishes Campbell as a songwriter with a lot of room to grow in any direction. She could choose rock or mellow pop and run with it for a very solid collection of songs. She just needs to choose where she wants to go and go there.  Recommended for fans of rock bands with girl singers.

And while their music is snare-heavy pop-punk with tight hooks, they deliver vocals most often in a throat-shredding hardcore-esque snarl, with occasional whoa-ohs. While the strength of the songs would amp the band from in line with everyone else to way above the crowd, the delivery and attitude of the vocals shoots Atrocity Solution into the stratosphere.

There are some songs where the vocalist sings. But he sings in the same way that the band plays ska; yeah, there are some moments with the upstroke (“Down the Alleyway,” “Scales of Injustice”) and some moments with singing/spoken word (“Change the Channel, “Voices of the Underground”), but they are the exception.

This band rips through punk songs and rips through vocal chords. They do it with abandon, power and finesse. These are punk songs of the highest order, refugees from the ’80s era when punk was a meaningful lifestyle choice and not just a musical classification. Tomorrow’s Too Late is easily the best punk CD I’ve heard this year thus far.