Campbell: Tuned In: Los Campesinos!, A Filial, South Central

Welsh band's doom is just for show

"WE ARE BEAUTIFUL, WE ARE DOOMED," Los Campesinos! (Arts & Crafts)

The fatalistic nature of the titles and lyrics on "We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed" is such a stark contrast to the buoyant sound of Los Campesinos! that listeners might wonder what's going on in the heads of the members of the seven-person Welsh band.

Fortunately, a DVD included in a special edition of "We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed" reveals that the group is still just a bunch of silly, wry rock and rollers - the same folks who put out the irreverent EP "Sticking Fingers Into Sockets" and full-length "Hold on Now, Youngster" in the past year or so.

Foreboding and even gruesome lyrics on songs such as "Miserabilia," "You'll Need Those Fingers for Crossing" and "Documented Minor Emotional Breakdown #1" are apparently just a healthy venting experience for lead singer Gareth (who, along with all of his bandmates, uses the last name "Campesinos!") and his spirited group as he mourns a busted-up relationship. Example: On "It's Never That Easy Though, Is It? (Song for the Other Kurt)," Gareth sings, "As if I walked into the room to see my ex-girlfriend/Who, by the way, I'm still in love with/Sucking the face of some pretty boy/With my favorite band's most popular song in the background/Is it wrong that I can't decide which bothers me most?"

Yeah, they're still having fun. And Los Campesinos! hasn't changed much sonically, either - though that's not such a great thing. The band is stuck in an exuberant limbo of Gareth wailing (more than singing) and the band flailing about in ska-ish chaos. Diversification would help.

But attitude and words sell "We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed," and it's endearing at the end of the release when Gareth finds himself rather embarrassed to be infatuated all over again.

And he even uses the word "dysmorphic."

Rating (five possible): 3 1/2

To diminish them would be beastly

"$1,99," A Filial (Verge)

It's tempting to equivocate A Filial to a Brazilian Beastie Boys because that gives Americans a superficial indication of the gist of the band's sound and the group itself would probably be flattered. But it's unfair to dismiss the act from Rio de Janeiro as some U.S. pop-culture parasite. These guys owe much more to their own heritage than they do to rap on their new, "$1,99."

Founded by MC Edu Lopes, the group emerged from a bohemian skateboarder background out of a hip-hop collective called the Hemp Family.

A Filial evokes the early rap netherworld of reverberating bass and loose lyrical flow on "$1,99," yet those Portuguese-mixed-with-English lines (MC Ben Lamar grew up in Chicago, hence the bilingualism) follow a more exotic path in their rhythms. The release is flavored with samba, maracatu, ciranda and forro, and powered by horns and both organic and synthetic percussion.

The act's experimental nature often finds it ambling around, although the jazzy grooves validate the improv atmosphere even when the proceedings get muddled. A Filial's humor - whether the MCs are dishing out braggadocio about their sweaters or romping through "Judy Does Judo" - garners additional forgiveness for its misdirections.

Still, even without the extraneous bonuses, the group earns its hip-hop cred with the repeated sweaty minimalism of bone-jarring bass and emphatic vocal delivery on much of "$1,99." The fact A Filial also successfully veers into everything from tropical elevator music ("Maluisa") to throbbing and thrusting hypno-electro ("Like a Baby's Kiss") makes this act far more well-rounded than most American hip-hop.

So call them a Brazilian Beastie Boys if you must, but that's just a starting point.

Rating: 3- 1/2

South Central shakes you down, relentlessly

"THE OWL OF MINERVA," South Central (Egregore)

South Central is an indie electronic dance act that hides the identity of its members to the point they wear hoods, though one thing they make clear about themselves is their impatience.

The U.K. group's new "The Owl of Minerva" twists and turns in near-continual chaos. Although the two DJ/producers who lead the act know how to tap an ambient groove, they get bored before you have a chance to, and so they frequently launch into an abrasive aural attack to keep listeners on their toes.

"The Owl of Minerva" is a compilation of previously released and unreleased South Central material that serves as a tease for the band's official debut due in 2009. Unlike most such collections, the songs fit together well - or at least well enough for songs whose own parts don't always fit together. Cuts such as "Dolls" and "Castle of Heroes" are like electro mini-musicals shifting from shimmering beauty to menacing bursts, from smooth rhythms to choppy and irregular beats.

There's an overriding demand for listeners to let go and allow the beefed-up, sweaty music take over, and there's also an overriding insistence that the music stay at the forefront of consciousness and not slip into some primal area of the brain. There may be a hypnotic subtext to "Higher State," for instance, but layers of escalating tension are built on top of that base until the track seems to electrocute itself. Meanwhile, the compelling churning and grinding of "Revolution" seems to be working to some end beyond merely getting an audience on the floor: It's almost as if something tangible is being produced in the fury.

South Central's instincts serve the act well except for one thing - a recurring use of a lame punkish vocal that sounds as if it's delivered through a megaphone from another room. It's cheesy and distracting, a flawed human element trapped in the precise machinery of noise.

Here's hoping the 2009 release will be all-instrumental.

Rating: 4

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