e’re not saying we’re cooler than you are, but we here at Stylus, we likes the very newest music. In fact, there’s probably a game of in-staff oneupsmanship going on right now at a pub near you. Look into it; they’ll be the ones with scarves far cleaner than their faces. But we realize that we can’t share a pint with everyone, every week, and that we should really take these discussions to a wider forum. So we’ve begun our newest column here at Stylus, The Agenda. Each week on Monday, you can count on us to tell about all our new faves—our writers will moan about anything even remotely related to music that has them all lathered and ripe (shows, singles, EPs, MySpace-finds, clubs, obscure website-sold full-lengths, etc.). Feel free to pick and choose and let us know if you think we’ve missed something. Enjoy.

It’s cold out, but this week we’re bringin friction, loves: blisterin’ doom metal, a little post-tractor heat, and some New york post-naught-wave. . .

This Episode
MySpace piano-atmospheres that actually pay off…
It ain’t often one’s solicited by a quirky pair of musicians on MySpace that actually strikes one’s fancy. This Episode is an unsigned pop duo from Los Angeles who subscribe to a school that is nostalgically ‘80s, British, and apparently, endlessly rewarding. Turns out Desi Blondell (vocals, keys) and Kenward Cooper (guitars, vocals) don’t actually need my help—they’re currently recording with Rick Parker of BRMC fame in L.A. But I thought I would mention anyway that “The Movies,” unlike the Earlimart song of the same name, is totally rad. Picture the end of that ‘80s movie Can’t Buy Me Love, except instead of riding off with your hunk on a tractor lawnmower to the Beatles song, you’re riding off on a motorcycle to “The Movies.” “I wanna be on the screen making love to you / I want the motion in the picture to be true,” Cooper howls. Yeah. If we’re going to bring back the ‘80s, there’s no reason not to bring back this part, too.

But it’s actually “Move On” that tugged on my mainstream heartstrings. Piano-driven, like the band’s other two offerings, “Move On” is a soaring tearjerker with beautiful vocals by Blondell, reverbed to the ends of the earth. What’s most surprising is what the pair (who have since hired other instrumentalists) has managed to do without a studio or producers. Ignore the tinny MySpace wash, and the atmosphere of the songs is highly developed, not so far off from the influences listed in the Village Voice ad that got the band started (“Looking for guitar player into Suede and Morrisey”). The sound is a slant popular in 1990s England, where a successful recyclage of outfits like The Cure clearly carried over to today, if you block out the whole Boyzone bit. While I question this transient band’s settling in L.A. with Rick Parker, there is a fair chance their foundational material will lead to a lengthier selection of tearjerker sophistipop.
[Liz Colville]

Marzuraan
New UK band perched somewhere along the corroded doom metal front…
The first time I saw Marzuraan live, they were blowing chooglin’ blues bores Sunn O)))))) off the tiny stage of one of Newcastle's ugliest pubs. They sounded like a hippie drum circle gone feral, hunched over their instruments and beating out a tattoo that was midway between corroded doom metal and Amon Düül I, a heavy metal skronk trombone wailing over the top.

I saw them again recently at a "radical social center" in Leeds, playing in a bare shell of a room. This time they were a four piece, the sound streamlined into what may as well be classic rock compared to my last visit. Bent at awkward angles, they barely noticed the audience, but this time instead of contemplation they were seemingly lost in the thick miasma of feedback that shrouded their songs. They would fuck a pig if they could. Maybe you should watch them do it.
[Patrick McNally]

sh-sh-sh-Shark Attack
Post New Yawk -new wave. Yeah, as your doggy-bagger says, there’s always a post…
Most art school bands in New Yawk City get it all wrong. They pilfer no wave, new wave, noise, and synth pop—genres that experienced their apex in the same condensed time period (late '70s/early '80s), and share a detached sentiment that arises out of the cold sheen of technology. If faux-disinterest and boutique vintage wear is the new punk, generation twenty-seven, then you might as well call De La Soul coke-rap. See, it wasn't The Velvets or even The Yardbirds that started this raucous, it was Link Wray. We're all standing around talking about the death of CBGB's, but we plum forgot that we still got the beach, where shimmyin' and surfing and one-piece swimsuits are what started this whole brouhaha in the first place.

sh-sh-sh-Shark Attack are four dudes who might be what happens when Tim Burton and Alex Cox decide to form a bar band. Sporting song titles that verge on the nautical ("Waves," "Great White"), the historical ("Town Gets New Road," "Bermuda Triangle"), and the hysterical ("Oh My God, Oh My God, I Can't Believe I'm Alive"), their mishmash of surf guitar and the bizarre, carnival-esque feel of ‘50s cult classics escapes mere novelty. Perhaps it’s born from their reliance on proto-punk propulsion and choruses occasionally reminiscent of early-'80s California hardcore, producing songs that are arty without ever succumbing to pretension, and, perhaps most importantly, really, really fun. But then there’s their bracing live show, further proof of their potency, featuring crowd-diving guitarists, a twitching lead singer who dons a baby blue pinstriped tux with no shirt and, of course, shark paraphernalia.
[Tal Rosenberg]

WHERE YOU BEEN?
Tigercity
Our new favorite band two months ago…
Perhaps we’d be interested in the blogosphere buzz surrounding Tigercity this week. If, you know, we hadn’t already featured them two months ago. But, hey, you were all bound to catch up eventually. When impeccable taste (Sylvester meets the Cars meets Vangelis, believe it) meets enviable live chops, sparks fly, words are written, deals are struck. Not so fast, my friend. The one thing that the boys don’t have is a deal. Can you believe it? With enough songs ready for a full-length, we imagine it won’t be long…
[Charles Merwin]