Moby’s been feeling inspired lately, and we’re about to benefit from it — his ninth studio album, Wait For Me, hits stores June 30, and we have the video for his first single “Shot In The Back Of The Head” right here, right now.

The countdown to the release of the album will kick off tomorrow with a free download of the video. It’s a dark, pulsing and haunting few minutes, directed by David Lynch, who was actually the inspiration for the album in a round-about way.

We’ll let Moby explain, in a blog entry from his web site:
david was talking about creativity, and to paraphrase, about how creativity in and of itself, and without market pressures, is fine. it seems that too often creative output is judged by how well it accommodates the marketplace, how much market share it commands and how much money it generates.

In making this record i wanted to focus on making something that i loved, without really being concerned about how it might be received by the marketplace. as a result it’s a quieter, more melodic, more mournful and more personal record than some of the records i’ve made in the past.

Moby called in his friends to help record the album, doodled the album art with sharpie on some copy paper and did the whole thing from the comfort of his own home. The mixing — done using purely analog equipment in true stereo — was done with the help of Ken Thomas (Sigur Ros, M83).

Check out “Shot In The Back Of The Head” here, and be sure to download your free video tomorrow.

Sigur Ros frontman Jon Por Birgisson, along with partner Alex Somers, will be releasing Riceboy Sleeps via Parlophone Records on July 20. The duo recorded the album in their native home of Iceland, using only used acoustic instruments and no vocals during the process.

Riceboy Sleeps started as a side project of Sigur Ros around 2003, when the two began staging exhibitions to display their new project, which encompasses a mixture of visual art and ambient music. The duo contributed the song “Happiness” to the Dark Was The Night compilation, which we now see was a sign of things to come.

The 68-minute LP does feature nine tracks that were “endlessly toyed with on solar-powered laptops in a raw food commune in some far corner of Hawaii.”

Riceboy Sleeps track listing
01. Happiness
02. Atlas Song
03. Indian Summer
04. Stokkseyri
05. Boy 1904
06. All the Big Trees
07. Daniell in the Sea
08. Howl
09. Sleeping Giant

In my estimation, Balmorhea are named after Balmorhea, TX (population: 500) or the town’s adjacent lake. Both capture the band’s essence: the minute town suggesting the band’s intimacy, and the lake conveying its natural purity. Almost entirely instrumental, Balmorhea’s third release All Is Wild, All Is Silent continues where its predecessors left off. However, this record maintains an incredible closeness to the listener. Its melodies are patient and calm and its delivery exact and effective. Balmorhea’s main members, Rob Lowe and Michael Muller, harness the expertise of four accomplished musicians to produce an extremely precise sound. Comparisons to a more subtle Sigur Ros are apt indeed; but as are comparisons to Ludvig van Beethoven and John Cage. Are their roots in classical, rock, or experimental? A case could be made for all.

I could spend 500 words describing the dynamics, textures and moods of All Is Silent, All Is Wild, but few bands demand the listener’s undivided attention like Balmorhea. Thus, I encourage you not to browse their MySpace impatiently, but to sit alone with headphones on and allow “November 1, 1832” to isolate and empower you. The majority of All Is Wild achieves that sort of visceral reaction. The album is predicated upon elegant string arrangements, articulated silences and sustained tones. Although often intense, there can be a light-hearted ease to All Is Silent, opener “Settler” is relatively fast-paced until it slows to what feels like an ending; then suddenly, almost in a display of playfulness or flippancy, the song erupts into a synchronized hand-clap routine. “Harm and Boon” ignores traditional song structure as new melodies continuously emerge seemingly out of nowhere. “Elegy” drifts serenely as its finger-picking guitars harmonize with one another.

All Is Wild confirms Balmorhea are masters of their music terrain. I suppose it could be described as cinematic, in the sense that we are to interpret the songs as we choose. For example, “March 4, 1831” and “November 1, 1832” appear to be arbitrary dates that don’t seem to relate a specific historical event (at least, not that I could find after a Google search). The latter is an extremely accomplished composition — its choral voices sing unintelligibly yet with great fervor. At just under 42 minutes, All Is Wild reveals itself with admirable patience; it is accessible, it projects musical beauty with seamless ease, and harbors great meaning so long as you allow it.

Western Vinyl

For every wanna-be hippie band that 2008 produced, no one even came close to the free love on display in the video for Sigur Ros‘ “Gobbledigook” [Warning: NSFW]

Closely in line with the cheeky cover art for the LP from which the single comes from; með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust (translated “with a buzz in our ears we play endlessly”), both the video and record cover were done by longtime band photographer Ryan McGinley. Say what you will, but whether or not the video for “Gobbledigook” was the best of 2008 is irrelevant, it was definitely the most memorable.

Sigur Ros – “Gobbledigook”
Produced by Ryan McGinley

Maybe I’ve been listening to too much bedroom electro these days, or maybe it’s all that’s released anymore. You know the kind: dude or gal wears cool sneakers, has a MIDI controller or maybe a synth modulator, sits on his/her Macbook sampling programmed drums and software synths and creates various sounds until something resembling a song emerges. Now this isn’t always a bad thing. Independent recording is often unfettered and honestly inspired. But it’s hard not to think that this particular sound is becoming a dime a dozen. Honestly, I don’t even know how to describe it anymore. Half of the problem is that the instrumentation is not produced by instruments, but by midi controllers synthetically conveying quasi-instrumental sounds. And I can only think of so many synonyms for “synth line” and “driving bass.”

So: Alaska In Winter, which began as the project of Brandon Bethancourt, who fled the warmth of New Mexico to a remote Alaskan cabin to escape the trappings of everyday life. Sounds familiar, very familiar. The product of this time resulted in Dance Party In The Balkans. But this is the sophomore release and mountainous terrain and frigid weather are no longer our soundscape; instead, Holiday soundtracks the Berlin haus-muzik scene. Yet, this album feels like an odd fusion of the two: the drive of German-electro and the sunless depression of Alaska. Opening with the slight strumming of “We Are Blind & Riding the Merry-Go-Round”, the murky vocals wail over drab melodies, accurately setting the precedent for the album’s tone. Soon, the down-tempo opener fades and in comes the album’s insistent lead-single and best track “Berlin”.

In the majority of cases, Bethancourt’s vocals spout out anguish-ridden lyrics that are half-inane/half-maudlin: “my speed boat goes faster than yours”, “she’s dying in my arms”. The music is too often depressing without being beautiful and too often slow without a direction. Sure, “Highlander Pt.1” is a lovely contemplation of failed love and Kyra LaMariana’s voice (who, along with Naila Dixon have replaced Heather Trost as the female voice of Alaska In Winter for this record) adds a captivating intimacy, but the tempo soon picks up and all evocation is lost. It’s as if you’re hearing an acoustic Sigur Ros show and suddenly Tom Waits decides to take the second verse. Holiday truly reaches its nadir during the three-part “Streetgang” which drags along despondently boasting an excruciatingly slow drum line complimented by an onerous bass. Even the cameos from Zach Condon of Beirut can’t save this one.

Now, bedroom electro is a genre that is well and good. It bridges the gap between the precocious artist who can’t afford real studio time and the subpar one who can. But it necessarily means a singular focus which too often means a singular sound and musicianship that is sterile and automated. When timing is so perfected that it feels predictable, it’s time to add some viscera or spontaneity in the mix. Also, it doesn’t help that Holiday is as uplifting as a coronary heart disease.

Milan Records