Brand New: “Daisy”

More than anything, Brand New seems to want to do what you don’t expect them to. “Daisy” is just that: an album that no one would have predicted to come but made all the better for how unexpected it is.

The Brand New of old seems like a far cry from what they are now. They used to sound like the brothers of Taking Back Sunday; now they sound more like a third-cousin by marriage twice-removed.

The pop-punk sound of the first release, “Your Favorite Weapon,” has been further diluted with each release since then. It was almost to the point of non-existent with its previous album, “The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me,” and with “Daisy,” any remnant of the original sound has been stamped out.

“Daisy” is the darkest, heaviest and most mysterious release of its career, and will undoubtedly be the most polarizing as well. Brand New almost split into a whole new band with “The Devil and God,” and “Daisy” deepens that rift even further.

Largely written by guitarist Vincent Accardi, “Daisy” misses a little of the brilliance and connective quality of Jesse Lacey’s lyrics that have made thousands of fans feel like Lacey was writing about their own lives. However, Lacey is still undoubtedly the heart and soul of Brand New, and he’s the one that gives the songs a flicker of light below the murky exterior.

True to form, Brand New pulls the most unexpected move right off the bat. “Vices” opens with an old opera recording that gingerly twirls around before incinerating into a thrust of thudding guitar chords that has startled more than a few listeners as Lacey throws into full blown screaming in one of the most surreal moments on any Brand New record.

The album immediately chills and simmers with the lovely call of “Bed” before soaring yet again with the heart-thumping anthem “At The Bottom.”

“Gasoline” yet again finds Brand New thicker and heavier with Lacey’s hungry yelp and bumping guitar hook driving it along.

Then the openly vulnerable “You Stole” sees Lacey laying out his heart slow burns into flashing flames and bolting guitar shears.

The drifting twang of “Be Gone” gives way to distorted incoherent vocal effects that require extreme focus to decipher any sort of lyric or phrase, and is that awesomely wacky experiment that sounds more like an Animal Collective duet with Devendra Barnhart than Brand New.

“Sink” sounds like Brand New at its most comfortable with rip-roaring guitar shreds and Lacey striking a brilliant balance between power and melody, while the title track feels like the summation of the minimalist heartfelt anthems of the past.

In the end, “Daisy” is a genre-defying affair that has seemingly been built to be performed in a live setting as it dips between hard and soft, slow and fast, but heavy in every moment.

Any sort of expectation of Brand New has certainly been dashed by this point, and perhaps the most unexpected thing for it to do now is going back to the pop-punk sound.

The Almighty Defenders: “The Almighty Defenders”

When I think of gospel music, I would never think of Black Lips or King Khan. These are two of the most notoriously crazy live bands touring today with antics including nudity, urination, vomiting, fireworks, flames and all around naughtiness.

After Black Lips were booted out of India after performing some “homosexual acts” on stage, the band retreated to King Khan’s residence in Berlin. Whether repenting for their sins, or just looking for a way to kill time, the result was “The Almighty Defenders,” an album recorded and written in about two weeks.

Their sins are definitely redeemed by the all-out fun and intrigue of the album, one boiling over with good old-fashioned religion.

This isn’t the polished, glossy gospel music of today though, and it’s not music you would expect to hear blaring at any church around here.

King Khan becomes the preacher with Black Lips the choir. The sermon is a bouncy, joyous affair, dipping through occasional bouts of introspection but much more consumed with waving your arms and shouting out praise.

The scratchy shutter of “All My Loving” begins the service with King Khan screeching out the Word while Black Lips smoothly echoes behind him.

The bluesy strut of “The Ghost With The Most” and “Bow Down And Die” become a slow marching processional that drifts into the choral praise of “Cone of Light,” a standout moment due to its upbeat vocals and soulful spring of shaky tambourines and static guitar bursts.

Khan gets a bit of fire and brimstone out with the nasty bombast of “30 Second Air Blast” and “Death Cult Soup n’ Salad.” Then comes the call for redemption with the vintage crack of “I’m Coming Home,” which feels more true to gospel music than you might have ever expected.

They close with the plunging rush of “The Great Defender” as King Khan solemnly bids the end of the service.

You will probably be left wondering what the hell just happened as the album draws to a close, but you will feel a bit of a spring in your step and invigorated soul as you stumble away from the most bizarre service you’ve ever witnessed.

Monsters of Folk: “Monsters of Folk”

Supergroups always sound great in theory. How could members of several of your favorite bands do wrong?

Well, more often than not, the result is disastrous.

However, 2009 has suddenly become the year of high-profile supergroups. First came Tinted Windows (Hanson, Smashing Pumpkins), then The Dead Weather (The White Stripes, The Kills) and Operation Aloha (Phantom Planet, Maroon 5). On the horizon we can look forward to releases from Them Crooked Vultures (QOTSA, Led Zeppelin), Blacroc (Black Keys, Mos Def, RZA) and Dead by Sunrise (Linkin Park, Julien-K).

Surprisingly enough, all of these albums have sounded phenomenal so far, and the latest stellar entry comes from the brilliantly named Monsters of Folk, a band consisting of Conor Oberst, Jim James (My Morning Jacket), M. Ward and Mike Mogis (Bright Eyes).

Probably the best sounding folk-supergroup this side of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. Monster Folk’s concept for the band arose way back in 2004, but busy schedules and other projects delayed the finished debut for five years.

This is, however, very telling of the balance Monsters of Folk finds with their debut.

Largely, the album feels less like a collaborative effort than you might think. Most of the songs come off more like a feature for one of the players with the other three simply guesting on the track.

“Dear God,” an exotic swirl of strings and billowing keys over a crunchy base, has Jim James written all over it, while the clear twang and strut of “Ahead of the Curve” is dominated by Oberst. The ambling stroll of “The Sandman, The Brakeman And Me” is a gorgeous stripped down beauty, though clearly the brainchild of Ward.

This is a very half-hearted complaint though, as each player is a master of his craft, and each melody grows ever richer with even the slightest contribution from the others.

“Say Please” marks the most collaborative feel of the whole record, as each singer sort of dives in and out of the verses as they holler the chorus together.

All in all, the strengths of each musician complement the others. Bringing in Oberst’s sincerity, James’ wild ear, Ward’s craftsmanship and Mogis’ mastery, the songs feel finely honed and complete. The effort may not feel completely shared, but working together has definitely brought about a delightful result.

The verdict is still out on supergroups, but Monsters of Folk provides some strong evidence in support of them.