Lately.

It's not much, but it's all mine.

I recently was asked to write a review for an online music community that focuses on independent artists and labels. As excited as I am, I'm already feeling the pressure of writing something that I exchange for actual non-Monopoly money. I am completely aware that I have a long way to go in terms of skill, as music reviews are really an art in themselves, with a specific style and nuance different from straightforward editorials.

I've been instructed that ordinarily I will be seeking out indie artists to review on my own, but this time I was given the specific assignment of reviewing Tokyo Police Club's latest LP, Champ. As I close my eyes and jump blindly into a world I'm unsure of, I offer to you, my first review :


"It's good to be back..."

A well anticipated follow-up to their 2008 LP, Elephant Shell, Tokyo Police Club's latest release, Champ, has already proven itself to be a title-worthy winner.

Opening track "Favourite Food," sets the album's tone, but sneakily not until the second half of the song. There's a detectable hint of growth right off the bat as it transforms from a simple intro track into a delicious up tempo pop tune. Even though the formula seems recognizable (gradually building rhythms and upbeat tempos) it's easy to anticipate that each song to follow will be a step away from the TPC we're already so familiar with.

It's hard not to play along once the toe-tapping beat strikes up in "Bambi," an electro-pop mix that combines impressive guitar melodies, clever hooks and start-stop rhythms into a well-blended dance anthem. Don't be surprised when you find yourself clapping along in triplicate form before even finishing the first go-round.

"Your only souvenir is a suitcase full of sand...But when you feel like you're a million, then I feel like I'm a grand," Monks croons in the crush worthy "Hands Reversed." The album's most ballad-esque track is as devastatingly gentle as a warm summer breeze, carrying a sound reminiscent of days spent blowing dandelions into the wind, while drowning subtly in the words of a heartbreaking childhood romance.

As semi-solid as it is, the entire album bears no preparation for the second to last track, "Frankenstein," as it peels back the curtain to show the growth that TPC has undergone in the last two years. Jumping right into a startling, all-encompassing melody with deep bass undertones, hypnotic beats and synthesized instrumentation, "Frankenstein" churns out a sound that's capable of sending goose bumps right down your spine, ten seconds in. I only wish they would have saved this gem to be the final track, as it teases in anticipation for what TPC might have in store next time around...

Champ finds Tokyo Police Club crossing over into a new era; a band noticeably more comfortable in their own skin, having lengthened their songs, strengthened their construction and explored their own capabilities. This record takes you away to an indie-pop landscape filled with dreamy childhood innocence showing signs of maturity as it progresses, leaving you with a band that has begun to ripen, much like their sound.

- © Caroline Bolter

Listen to my favorite track from Champ:

It's only a matter of time before we G.O. all the way.

Hey indie scene, there's a new group in town, and they're looking for a place to stay. You think your Mom would mind if they crashed on the couch for a while?

In 2009, vocalist Eddie Alexander, electronic-ist Joe Walker, keyboardist Bella Walker and drummer Eric Moore came together to form Goodnight Owl, the semi-pop/folk/electronic style foursome out of Melbourne, Australia. Even though they're still a virtual unknown, Goodnight Owl is already being compared to the likes of Bon Iver, The Postal Service, Band of Horses and Whitley. They're more than that, though. Goodnight Owl has developed a sound with an elusive, indescribable twinge of sustainability that so many other bands are lacking.

It seems as though Goodnight Owl will be sticking to gigs on their Aussie turf for the here and now. Although, I have a feeling it's only a short matter of time before their name rolls off of your favorite indie-ite's tongue while listing who they're currently listening to...

G.O. recently wrapped filming on their debut music video for "Maps and Compasses" from their self-titled debut EP, released last year. Check it here :

...and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Beep.

Ring Ring...Ring Ring...

Never in the 10 or so years I've been using cell phones, did I ever expect them to have any major impact on deciding what path my life goes down. I've never treated them with the respect they truly deserve, but only because of my own naiveté towards the magnitude of their power.

Two weeks ago, I went through a first interview with a job that I could easily describe as a dream; a step in the right direction towards what I think I really would like to spend the rest of my life doing. My application was a shot in the dark, since it's a jump from the TV/Film industry (which I have been working in the last 7 years) to the music industry, one that I have virtually no contacts or professional experience in. Someone even asked me who my contacts were in order to land this interview in the first place, because apparently it's not the easiest battle to feat. I suppose I should reveal specifics; are you ready for it? The job is to be the assistant to the Vice-President of Music Licensing for Television and Film at Interscope-Geffen-A&R Records. Yeah. My thoughts exactly.

After 2 weeks of no follow-up from my first interview, I had pretty much written off ever hearing from them again. That was my first mistake. I often forget that in the corporate world (and being under the umbrella of Universal Music Group - this is definitely a corporate position) the hiring process can sometimes take a lengthy amount of time, depending.

Last Thursday evening, a voicemail notice popped up on my cell phone screen, which I immediately called to check. It was my friend Candace, calling from Texas to say hi, and shoot the shit. Good to hear her voice. But wait, my call didn't end; there was another message, one that was from the HR rep that I initially interviewed with at Interscope. He was calling to see if I could come in on that Friday (note : this was Thursday evening that I'm hearing this message) to meet with the hiring manager. And then the time stamp : Message recorded at 10:30am, Wednesday morning. Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. I frantically called his office, even though it being after hours, left him a message explaining that I had just received word and I was completely available to come in the following day, or any day the next week.

Friday comes. No return call. I call again and leave a second message. "Hi...It's Caroline...still available this afternoon or anytime next week. Thanks much..."

Friday ends. No return call, leading me into a weekend of wrestling between the thoughts that missing this message may have entirely screwed me for life and "No, I'm sure they have just been busy and are going to get back to me first thing Monday."

Monday comes. I call for the third time, like a gal who hasn't heard from the blind date that she thought "went really well" and is just calling to "check in" (ugh), but this time the interviewer answers. "Hi...It's Caroline..." He already knew exactly who it was. I'm not sure what I said, and specifically what he said, all I heard were scattered words here and there, each one like a tiny cannonball shooting flaming metal orbs straight into my heart. "Zero-ed in on another candidate" , "coming in to finalize tomorrow", "we'll let you know if it doesn't work out"....

36 hours. I missed the message by 36 hours. It only took 36 hours for my life to jam it's foot on the brakes and slam the Interscope door in my face.

Everyone (everyone = my mom, my dad) keeps saying, "Well, nothing is completely done quite yet, so you never know..." That's really just a mom and dad's way of saying, "Shit, honey. That blows."

The only valuable lesson I've gotten out of this situation is to really acknowledge the power of communication mediums. If an email accidentally gets looked over, a phone call returned just a bit too late, you never know what weight it could hold.

What if the next time the phone rings it's your Aunt Ida calling to tell you there is a plane flying right above your house that has blown out it's last reserve engine and your future is sitting in aisle seat 12C? And that you should probably get out before it's too late?

Eh, I'll just let it go to voicemail.

Two hands come together to form one pair of binoculars.