The Decemberists

The Hazards of Love

Columbia Records

This is how Decemberists front man Colin Meloy described the Portland band's new record, The Hazards of Love, a few months ago: "...the tale of a woman named Margaret who is ravaged by a shape-shifting animal; her lover, William; a forest queen; and a cold-blooded, lascivious rake, who recounts with spine-tingling ease how he came to be living so easy and free."

Drone Trailer

Dicristina Stair Records

While ravenous movers and shakers devour Animal Collective's Merriweather, and the long list of other January/February releases (Antony and the Johnsons, Andrew Bird, Bon Iver, A.C. Newman, etc.), I decided my musical curiosities could be used for something other than indie sweetheart albums. Behold MV & EE's Drone Trailer, an eccentric mix of twang, Neil Young sound alikes, and complicated folk non-melodies.

The album begins with, "Anyway," a hard-hitting, in-your-face distorted guitar piece with Erika Elder's vocals careening through to the end. The music feels reminiscent of Dinosaur Jr. and/or Sonic Youth (this shouldn't come to a surprise seeing that MV & EE have shared the stage and albums with both J. Mascis and Thurston Moore). "Anyway" fades out from a complicated noise explosion to "The Hungry Stones," an acoustic number (Neil Young doppelganger) complete with harmonica. This is a welcome shift from the bombastic opening. Track three, "Weatherhead Hollow," fumbles early before a coherent melody is set in play. Guitar doodling and light cymbal splashes work well with the hushed vocals. This is an engaging song if you work for it. Halfway through this 10-minute adventure, the song turns into a psychedelic jam explosion. "Drone Trailer" gently continues from the sporadic nature and dissonance of "Weatherhead Hollow," until a very melodic tune locks in under Elder's voice.

MV & EE's strengths on Drone Trailer are evident at the end of the album; not pushing the listener too far and avoiding filler. At six songs just over 40 minutes, Drone Trailer appears to capture what it was created to do. However, in a year (thus far) of so many independently famous recordings, this trailer will likely see few view visits.

"When you're used to crack, it's not the same when you go back to huffing paint," joked Person People's K.P. from the Domino Room stage at the band's raucous CD release show on Saturday night. Neither K.P. nor any other of the 10 other accredited members of Person People smoke crack or huff paint. We're 99 percent sure of it. What K.P. was metaphorically alluding to was the surge of get-downishness that pumped through a mostly full Domino Room when the group's live band took the stage one-third of the way through their set.

Andrew Bird

Noble Beast

Fat Possum Records

John Lennon once likened styles of rock and roll to different types of chairs. He wanted his music to be basic, solid wood. To use Lennon's analogy, Andrew Bird's new album, Noble Beast, is a deceivingly comfortable chair covered in a polka dotted sheet. If you lift up the edge of the sheet, you realize that you're sitting in a decadent yet delicately patterned creation that isn't a chair at all. You don't quite know what it is.

Bird, whose last record, 2007's Armchair Apocrypha, earned him a spot on several top ten lists, is a musician before he is a rock and roller. Categorically, he's in the same realm as Sufjan Stevens, Loney Dear (who helps on this album), and Elbow: intella-rock, or perhaps geek rock. He sings in palindromes and alliteration about human behavior and environmental apocalypses. Bird backs his clear alto voice with his violin and other instrumentation, as well as an orchestra of talent that includes the likes of bass master Todd Sickafoose and Kelly Hogan, who has collaborated with the likes of Neko Case.

Sound Check would like to announce that the winter music lull has finally come to an end. We can say this with confidence thanks to the massive pile-up of music that hit town last weekend.

It began with a Thursday night jaunt to a packed and delightfully sweaty Silver Moon Brewing Co. where That 1 Guy was using his patented Magic Pipe (which is probably not actually patented) to stir the assembled masses into a funked-out fury. He did the same for the under-21 crowd that packed the sidewalk to get a look at That 1 Guy (real name: Mike Silverman) and his magic tricks, metal breakdowns and constant smiles. Oh yeah, and he turned his homemade instrument into a fog machine on two separate but equally impressive moments.