In This Moment
The Dream
Century Media
Street: 09.30
In This Moment = Evanescence + All That Remains + Breaking Benjamin – the male vocals
In This Moment do such a great job of trying to sound like so many other artists that their own originality seeps away. At times, the music is bearable (be it more pop rock than any other form of music), though there are plenty of attempts at melodic metalcore or worse, nu-metal. In the end, it’s musical mediocrity with guitar melodies/piano and vocal arrangements that don’t differentiate from track to track. Vocalist Maria Brink is the worst aspect of the band; her singing style is grating, too clean and produced-sounding, which wears thin quickly. Brink’s range lacks diversity; I picture the singer as an American Idol reject that attempts to scream. Her emotions fall flat and give you the feeling that you’re listening to something meant to come off as pleasing to hear, yet it expresses no emotion. –Bryer Wharton

Ironweed
Indian Ladder
Small Stone Recordings
Street: 10.08
Ironweed = Witchcraft + Milligram + Down
Hell, yes! This is what I need more of—heavy, dirty rock. The surprise was the inclusion of almost hardcore-sounding screams laced throughout this record, but they fucking work! This is beer-drinkin’ music at its finest—catchy riffs, solos that are quick and to the point, and a rhythm section with its head in the proper place. Indian Ladder is an excellent way to kick off any night of boozing and should serve as a template to the throng of bands who try so hard and fail so miserably at this type of music. Just try to tell me that lead singer Jeff Andrews doesn’t do a spot-on Phil Anselmo impression in “Lost and Forgotten”—I fucking dare you! –Gavin Hoffman

Kieran Hebden and Steve Reid
NYC
Domino
Street: 11.18
Kieran Hebden and Steve Reid = Herbie Hancock’s Mwandishi + Sun Ra + TortoiseAptly named, this latest offering from Kieran “Four Tet” Hebden (samplers, software) and Steve Reid (acoustic percussion) is the result of two days in New York’s Avatar studio, where the duo soaked in the ghosts of previously recorded works by artists such as Steve Reich to Chic to Missy Elliot. Most importantly, the album reflects Reid’s hometown experience in conjunction with Hebden’s first real visit to the Big Apple, letting the food and urban explorations inspire tracks with titles such as “25th Street” and “Lyman Place.” This all translates into an eclectically charged mix of psychedelics (“Between B & C”), ‘60s Funk (“1st & 1st) and Stockhausen electronics vs. downtown minimalism (“Departure”). In other words, Hebden and Reid’s version of jazz fusion, something they’ve honed live and on record (Tongues, The Exchange Sessions Vols. I and II) to a point beyond casual collaboration: this is their language, and a fascinatingly experimental and enjoyably listenable one it is. –Dave Madden

Kill the Client
Cleptocracy
Willowtip Records
Street: 10.28
Kill the Client = Watchmaker + Martyrdod + weapons grade hatred
Are your ears ready to have their pink little assholes tanned like an old civil war belt? Look no further than Kill the Client, or really, nearly every band Willowtip Records has on their fine roster of hate. Fueled by 18 tracks, not a single one exceeding two minutes in length, and a mere 23 minutes total, Cleptocracy picks up right where their highly respected first album left off. Imagine how Metallica would sound to your grandfather if you had him listen, except this band is what they would really sound like to him. This is pure soul-crushing and aggressive, grinding death metal that never relents or allows you, the innocent listener, to catch your breath. All of this and a Glengarry Glen Ross sample to boot! Your ears say, “In the name of science, please, no!” but your heart and mind say, “Oh fuck, yes” to Kill the Client. Give in! –Conor Dow

Klangwart
Stadtlandfluss
Staubgold
Street: 10.14
Klangwart = Zeljko McMullen + John Adams’s Shaker Loops
An equal mix of classic minimalism and techno-savvy, duo Klangwart make wonderfully patient music. Divided into seven tracks, this marvelous piece begins with an anticipatory hush, a sustained major chord, hardly swelling with harmonics, and obviously pointing somewhere. Slight digital detritus (i.e., clicks, tufts of studio resin) tampers with the sound, gently caressing the sonic world before taking over and allowing printer sounds (a la The User’s Symphony for Dot Matrix Printers) and human office ambience a turn. Around the 28-minute mark, the tension further mounts, processed bells mixing with nerve-wracked string orchestra ostinatos and crashing headlong into meticulously crafted buzzing feedback. A genteel coda of female German whispers restores balance to the arc of the piece, the perfect denouement to a virtuosic display of texture and form. Klangwart, please do not wait another eight years between albums. –Dave Madden