In%20Review%20:%20From%20Toro%20y%20Moi's%20sexy%20new%20album%20to%20Rachel%20Khoo's%20drool-inducing%20new%20cookbook%2C%20here's%20what%20you%20should%20be%20streaming%2C%20reading%2C%20and%20watching%20right%20now. Check%20out%20the%20latest%20in%20the%20@Aritzia%20Magazine.%20In%20review%20-
In Review
In review

In Review

From Toro y Moi's sexy new album to Rachel Khoo's drool-inducing new cookbook, here's what you should be streaming, reading, and watching right now.


Much like the graffiti and poster-riddled walls of a long-standing rock club or the autographed pages of a newly graduated teen’s high school yearbook, Jeremy Deller’s upcoming show at the Contemporary Art Museum St. Louis is able to withstand a dozen viewings and still have something to surprise or confound you on a 13th. This is the first mid-career survey of one of Britain’s most intriguing living artists, a maverick figure whose work, over the past 20 years, has flown in the face of the notion that, in art, everything’s already been done. From his 2001 installation “The Battle of Orgreave (An Injury to One Is an Injury to All),” for which he organised a historical reenactment of the 1984 confrontation between picketing coal miners and local law enforcement in South Yorkshire, England, to “Exodus,” the National Geographic-style piece he made in 2012 with a 3-D film crew at the Frio bat cave near Concan, Texas, this show fairly bursts with an unbridled, ecstatic sense of creative possibility. There are banners, photographs, videos, sounds, screenings, performances, and feasts. There are archives of art made by devoted Depeche Mode and Manic Street Preachers fans. There is a fully functioning replica of a Manchester greasy-spoon café, just waiting for you to take a seat and have a cup of tea. Deller’s approach is open, collaborative, hopeful. He is indefatigable in his oblique quest to make things happen and undeterred in his belief that anybody—not just artists—can do so. DALE BERNING


Though some chefs have been assailed for their liberal use of butter (ahem, Paula Deen), Rachel Khoo is sticking firmly to her motto: “Butter makes everything better.” Five years ago, the London native packed her bags and moved to France to study patisserie at—where else—Le Cordon Bleu. While there, she tested out her recipes on the public by opening a mini makeshift restaurant in her very own apartment, dubbed The Little Paris Kitchen. It was so popular that she landed a cooking show with the BBC, whipping up French classics like croque madame, madeleines, and baguettes for salivating viewers. Though The Little Paris Kitchen is now closed (likely due to Khoo’s newfound fame…and the fact that it was probably an illegal venture), she has taken her original concept and put it to paper with The Little Paris Kitchen Cookbook. Like Julia Child before her, Khoo aims to make French food more accessible: “French flavours and techniques needn’t be out of the reach of the everyday cook,” she writes. Her recipes range from somewhat intimidating (terrine forestiére, a wild mushroom paté) to simple (poisson meuniére, fish with lemon and brown butter sauce) to classic (Créme brulée), and Khoo covers them all with wit and whimsy (each begins with a story on the background of the dish, or her first time making it). Khoo’s kitchen may be little, but her talent and appeal most certainly are not. CAITLIN SMITH


When you’re 11 and your uncle, an ex-con former drug dealer, says, “I’m gonna teach you what it takes to be a man”—by which he means how to drive, shoot a gun, and, it turns out, sell drugs—movie logic dictates that your day will likely end in tragedy. LUV takes place over a single day in Baltimore, Maryland, a city previously taken to such Shakespearean heights by The Wire. After eight years in prison, Vincent (Common) is determined to reach his big American dream (in this case, opening a crab shack) without breaking the law, and he decides to take his shy, motherless nephew, Woody (Michael Rainey Jr.), along with him on his mission. When their first order of business—the bank, for a loan—ends in predictable disappointment, Vincent finds himself back in the employ of his old boss, Mr. Fish (Dennis Haysbert), and thus, back in the sights of the police. Since neither side of the law seems to know how Vincent served less than half of his 20-year sentence, he’s caught between not just the bank and the dream, but also the cops and the crooks. And all the while, wide-eyed little Woody rides shotgun—until he’s forced to take the wheel (in a turn of events that strains credulity). Young first-time filmmaker Sheldon Candis combines two tropes—coming of age and trying to go straight—into one uneven movie. He mostly avoids the usual clichés, thanks in part to the authentic sense of place; one climactic scene happens over a meal of steamed crab, complete with hammers and beer and, finally, guns. But it’s Rainey Jr. who deserves props. Bursting with personality and appearing in nearly every scene, the actor, like Woody, comes close to saving the day. MIKE HARVKEY


People may have chilled on the whole chillwave thing since its brief cultural takeover a few summers back, but a few of the genre’s flag bearers have managed to stay not just relevant, but actually pretty fresh. Chief among them is Toro y Moi (a.k.a. Chaz Bundick), a low-key South Carolina native who led the (gentle) charge early on with dreamy singles like “Talamak” and “New Beat.” His new album, Anything in Return, out this month, expands on the lusher, more dance-friendly sound he explored on 2011’s Underneath the Pine. The faded, catchy synth hooks and hazy vocals are here, sure, but so are expertly selected house samples and alongside cleverly layered rhythms. It’s not such a surprise, then, that Bundick is actually at his strongest with poppier, more structured songs (“Cola” and “Studies” are standouts) that showcase his production chops rather than his vocals, which can sound a bit too interchangeable with those of every other hipster dance artist on the market. Tracks like “Cake” and “Day One” tend to drag for this reason; lead single “So Many Details,” with its seductive lyrics and slinky beats, meanwhile, uses his breathy tenor to great effect. Bundick may be dusting off his usual set of tricks here, but it’s working for him. EMILY TEMPLE


For their 13th studio album, this veteran Hoboken, New Jersey, fuzz-pop trio left Roger Moutenot, who has produced every Yo La Tengo record since 1993’s Painful, to work with Tortoise and The Sea and Cake member/knob-twiddler John McEntire. This was a very good idea. Fade is perhaps YLT’s most cohesively mellow album yet, a subtle masterstroke in restraint from a band that’s defined and redefined indie eclecticism—garage rock, folk, free jazz, twee pop, and beyond—for the past three decades (just their career’s length is awe-worthy in this era of brief buzz-band lifecycles). Recorded at Chicago’s Soma Electronic Music Studios, Fade is coloured by all those styles, but exquisite for its emotional touches, threaded through all 10 tracks. This album feels good—it’s gorgeous, warm, comfy. This is look-out-the-car-window-on-a-rainy-day music. The opener, “Ohm,” is lush and lulling psych-pop that builds and builds, but never releases, as husband-wife duo Ira Kaplan and Georgia Hubley harmonize about life’s frightening unknowns—“Nothing ever stays the same/ This is it, for all we know/ So say goodnight to me.” “Is That Enough” is Belle & Sebastian territory, a ballad with emotive strings, while “Paddle Forward” is a nod to My Bloody Valentine. “Cornelia and Jane,” perhaps the LP’s best, has a single strummed chord for percussion, a candle-glow brass section, and twinkling guitar plucks, all as Hubley coos, “How will we hold back the tears?” Good question. Props to McEntire; his work with Stereolab, Broken Social Scene and many other art-minded bands is on display here—his knack is in making the experimental sound familiar, which is Fade’s heart. So, guys, can we book Mr. McEntire for the next 13 records? WILLIAM GOODMAN



Back in 2008, San Francisco three-piece The Traditional Fools (Andrew Luttrell, David Fox, and the now-prolific solo artist Ty Segall) cut their one and only album, a primitive 12-song garage-surf record that sold out before the guys could down a six-pack in celebration. Luckily this month they’re re-releasing the self-titled album, a low-fi riot of summer thrash and pure energy that will have you eyeing your cutoffs and dreaming of hot ragged nights before the end of the first track. The band kicks things off with “Davey Crockett,” which slides from a slightly cheeky pop progression to what could pass for a hula number before jumping with a full-throated yell into a sweet explosion of fuzzy punk goodness—and that’s where the album stays until the final track. Most of the songs here (choice titles include “Snot Rag” and “Kill Someone You Hate”) sound like gestures rather than fully fleshed-out compositions; they’re manic and raw and always on the brink of a wipeout—but somehow the album never does. Instead, each mini track blends perfectly with the next to create a short but killer record that’s just waiting to soundtrack every ill-advised summer revel on your horizon. EMILY TEMPLE


This Los Angeles quintet became the buzziest of buzz bands with their 2010 debut Gorilla Manor, earning plenty of lazy-journo musical comparisons: Local Natives were the West Coast Grizzly Bear with Fleet Foxes’ three-part vocal harmonies, Cold War Kids’ clattering percussion, and Vampire Weekend’s tropicalia guitars. Everyone from Arcade Fire to The Dodos, Sufjan Stevens to Real Estate were name dropped in reviews and next-big-thing blog posts. But with their sophomore release, Hummingbird, Local Natives are forging their own identity by diving into their sound’s dark and stormy side—even the album cover shows the boys wading neck-deep into the steely-grey Pacific, tempestuous skies overhead. Thank the National’s Aaron Dessner, who produced Hummingbird at his home studio in New York City, dialing up the melodrama and sonic squall: the guitars twinkle brighter, the percussion rattles and pounds harder, the emotional vocals soar higher and higher. Hummingbird engulfs listeners on all sides. Two tracks, “Ceilings” and “Colombia,” are the album’s heart. The former is a shimmering but playful romp with guitarist-vocalist Ryan Hahn waxing nostalgic on sunny summer days and wistful nights: “Before the summer turns to sand,” he talk-sings, “one more day of sun.” The song is hinged on the album’s most transcendent and stunning moment—four seconds of falling vocal melodies: “silver dreams, bring me down, down, downnnnnnnnnn.” “Colombia” is an aorta-ripping ballad of self-doubt: “Every night I ask myself, ‘Am I giving enough? Am I? Am I loving enough?” Singer/multi-instrumentalist Kelcey Ayer confesses over tender piano and warbling guitar. It’s Hummingbird’s heavy, take-a-big-breath moment, like Local Natives are swimming in their own deep end. WILLIAM GOODMAN

Illustration: ANNA KÖVECSES