The Trees have exploded on the national music scene well enough to have scored appearances on the Tonight Show with Jay Leno and Jimmy Kimmel Live, toured with The Killers, 30 Seconds to Mars and Mutemath, and had their single “Animal” placed on Billboard’s Hot 100… and much more. I’m sure there are plenty of fans of theirs that are reading this and are mentally listing all their major accomplishments I’ve missed.

But this article isn’t about Neon Trees.  It’s about what we have coming next.

Because of them, Provo may be getting a different eye from the music industry — and we just so happen to have a couple good things in the mix to surprise them with. As some of you know, several bands based (or at least at one time based) out of Utah County made it into this years SXSW Music Festival in Austin, Texas, one of the biggest annual festivals in the nation. Music from other local bands has been heard on MTV and other network television shows — and if you think we’ve exhausted our resources, you’re simply out of your mind.

At one time I was convinced that our town was one of the weaker music scenes in the States, but compared percentage-wise to other larger cities, we’ve got a pretty good track record so far. So, for your information, I’ve compiled a couple interviews with bands that have dug their feet into the rocky ground of the music industry and are ready to show the world what they’ve got.

More than a couple of these bands have already been featured by Rhombus, of course, but before you complain and post your disdainful commentary below, know that this is not another album or concert review — this is a compendium of some noteworthy acts whose names you’re most likely to see around soon in more magazines than this one.

Mudbison
Their name bound to be bigger than the animal it refers to, Mudbison has made some pretty big leaps recently. Spencer Russell –brother of Columbia-signed folk artist Isaac Russell — has been working his arse off on getting things in line, such as recording/mixing/mastering, pumping out music videos, and trying to get a tour off the ground. All the hard work is paying off though, as is evident by conducting a simple YouTube search and finding that the band’s very newly added videos have already garnered over 5,000 views collectively. It’d be my guess that not all of those are just from Provo either.

Upon being asked what drives him to keep working at his music career, Russell replies, “Maybe it’s teaching people morals I’ve learned through the stories I write. Maybe it’s my love for writing a tune that gives people chills. It’s probably both. Aesthetic pleasure is something I love to give, and this is the best way, I guess.”

Style: Indie pop, singer/songwriter
Sounds like: Badly Drawn Boy meets Sufjan Stevens meets Beck
Likely labels to see them on: Asthmatic Kitty, XL Recordings, Sub Pop Records
Strongest weapon: A killer album, Russell’s ingenious songwriting ability
Biggest accomplishment: Their unique sound
Network/Connections: With a brother signed to Columbia Records and a father deeply ingrained in the film industry, Russell is likely to get his band’s music into good hands.

Imagine Dragons
I don’t know of any band that has received a quicker hype than these guys. Coming out of a victory at BYU’s Battle of the Bands in late 2009, they had achieved “Provo fame” within a few short months and began packing Velour and other venues/events to the brim shortly thereafter. After a move to Las Vegas and a couple lineup changes, ID is now the fastest growing band in Sin City — but they still aren’t content.

Lately they’ve been hitting areas nearby like L.A., Phoenix and San Francisco, all while maintaining their huge fan base here in Utah. Don’t think for a second that Imagine Dragons will fall by the wayside — you’ll soon be seeing their records everywhere you look.

Style: Indie pop/rock
Sounds like: The Killers thrown back to a Tears for Fears/Depeche Mode concert.
Likely labels: Warner Music Group, EMI
Strongest weapon: A plethora of involved fans.
Biggest accomplishment: Showcased at SXSW 2010, shared stage with Blue October, Jet, Kelly Clarkson, Presidents of the U.S., and more.
Network/Connections: Friends — and relatives — in high places.

Eyes Lips Eyes
Having just a couple days ago changed their name from ER (which had been changed from Elizabethan Report), Eyes Lips Eyes has been cooking what you’ve been smelling. After playing a couple shows with these guys, I can attest to the level of professionalism and skill they have — things that undoubtedly will help them achieve their goal of making music their sole income. That’s what influenced their decision to move to L.A. last summer, and what continues to push them now as they have raised their marketing to a whole new level.

Spencer, the band’s guitarist, gives this piece of advice to other bands that are trying to make a living out of music: “In the end, the stuff that works the best is the stuff that no one has tried yet. So being willing to venture out and take some risks with promotion ends up paying off in the end. Once people catch up, though, you have to find something new.”

Style: Dance rock, indie/alternative
Sounds like: Interpol gets in a food fight with Red Hot Chili Peppers.
Likely labels: EMI, Warner Bros., Matador Records
Strongest weapon: Their stage energy coupled with their promoting energy.
Biggest accomplishment: Shows with The Raconteurs, Spoon, The Black Keys, Bob Dylan, and releasing two albums.
Network/Connections: Have found good friends while in LA, but no shew-ins — They’ve succeeded through blood, sweat and tears alone.

Stay tuned for some more bands to be featured in this 3-part series.

This week, the magazine’s editor Steve Pierce and resident armchair economist Daniel Anderson contemplate the reigning hot topics of the day — including the most recent (and totally unexpected!) Bachelorette trainwreck, Eclipse’s total dominance at the box office, local favorite Isaac Russell’s new major-label EP, and the greatest (and worst) American presidents. Enjoy!

You can stream the podcast by simply clicking on the link below, or you can download it to your computer by right-clicking the link and selecting “Save Link As” from the menu.

Listen to: Rhombus Podcast 019 — Rhombus Roundtable (2010.07.12)

Sure, it’s been a little rough lately; As a not-for-profit, volunteer-operated organization, Rhombus often takes a back seat to other things when life gets busy. Is it desirable? No. Is it reality? Unfortunately, yes. But regardless of how busy life gets or how intermittent the posting schedule sometimes becomes, we’ll continue to do our best to fulfill our original mission of bringing you intelligent and interesting writing on the topics you actually care about — now and in the months and years to come.

Running an online publication in the era of the 24-hour news cycle is not easy. Consistently feeding the beast is a foreboding and persistent challenge. And we’re certainly not perfect at it, but we’ll continue to try and hopefully you will stick with us through the rough patches. After all, the fact that Rhombus still exists and some people actually still care now, a year after our initial launch, is quite a miracle in and of itself.

Truthfully, it’s a miracle that would have never happened without people faithfully reading the articles, sharing them online with their friends, talking them up at shows and gatherings, and always coming back for more. In essence, the message is this: We don’t survive without you — and, as is evidenced by this post, we’re still surviving.  So thank you. Thanks for sticking around. Thanks for a great first year — one we hope to improve upon moving forward.

Now, as a wonderful birthday present to us (and even an early/late one to you), enjoy a new video I discovered on the Web today from Rhombus favorite Isaac Russell and have now embedded below. In our vaunted opinion, there’s no better celebration music than the sweet, sweet tunes of Sir Isaac of Russell. Happy birthday to us!

Things like that keep him up at night.

Raised in Provo, 27-year-old Jess Smart Smiley is what many would call right-brained — and hopelessly so. Making music and art is his passion, his career, his life. Without an ounce of guile — and with an infectious twinkle in his eye — Jess possesses a unique, perpetual excitement that seems ready to burst out of his otherwise demure persona.

I first met Jess while I was writing for my college newspaper and got the the chance to interview him at his home in Orem where we sat down (during which time he told his son he’d be sent to the “police store” if caught as he struck out on the sidewalk wearing merely a diaper).

I’ll be honest — in my line of expertise, I get a lot of less-than-talented musicians requesting coverage and promotion. In addition, and with a name like Jess Smart Smiley, I was less than inclined to take an earnest look at what this guy really had to offer. I soon came around, though. This endorsement is in no way prompted by personal gain, but it has to be done—in part because Jess, himself, would never tell you he’s great, and also because the man is wildly talented.

Although he’s been drawing far longer than playing music, he’s been performing for the last ten years — wielding his guitar and sparse, Bon Iver-styled indie-folk vocals. Fairly recently, Jess released a collection of songs entitled “Things That Light Up,” available for free on the Internet, after realizing he had five hours of songs recorded on his computer.

On the aforementioned tracks in the collection (he is careful not to say album), it’s not uncommon to hear ambient sound effects in the background like birds chirping, a phone ringing or his young son enjoying a repeat viewing of 101 Dalmatians since the songs were all recorded at home. Oddly enough, instead of masking disappointment, Jess enjoys the added soundscape, believing it to add to the authenticity and message of his music.

“There’s nothing professional about it,” he said, partially smirking but with an unmistakable fire in his eyes. “My goal is to make it something people can relate to. It doesn’t really fall into a category of music — just call it genuine or sincere. I’m not trying to make it a big presentation, I just really mean it. My songs are about people working hard and struggling; having dreams and having dreams broken. I feel like my music would have a stronger impact if just a few people really got hope out of my music, instead of just a song everyone can dance to.”

However, music is more of a hobby in Smiley’s artistic repertoire. He maintains his first love and “native language” is his artwork, which he simultaneously does to pay the bills, and in a variety of mediums — producing album artwork, concert posters, laptop covers, coloring books, portraits and more. A self-proclaimed “rotten kid” growing up, Jess spent most of his younger years in his room sans Nintendo or TV, his only companions books and blank pages, which is how he developed this language.

Due to be released next Halloween, Jess recently completed a 135-page all-ages graphic novel for what he dubbed “one of the top three comic book publishers in the world.” (I trust the claim, partially because of his sincere honesty and partially due to the fact that despite my well-deserved place in geekdom, I know little about comic books.)

In February, he submitted said graphic novel, entitled “Upside Down,” to two other publishers who weren’t interested and, on a whim, sent it to another publisher who immediately wanted to buy it and turn it into a three-part series. “You could go to Barnes and Noble next year and see my book there,” he eagerly told me.

Regardless of medium — or portion of the brain utilized, for that matter — Jess is a believer in doing what you love, an advocate of finding and cultivating passions and individuality. Along with the majority of our population — especially in these uncompromising economic times — Jess constantly worries about making ends meet and supporting his family. However, happiness, not simply financial security, is what he deems most important.

“There’s this gap between where we are and all these places we could be in life,” he said. “I have a wife and a kid that want me to be happy — that makes them happy. I’m going to be happy if I’m doing what I love all day and then come home to the people I love. I really believe what I do to be a force in helping people.”

Jess has something akin to a “no regrets” policy in his life and career, believing if he doesn’t pursue what he really wants wholeheartedly that he’ll spend the rest of his life wondering what could’ve been. “I have so much more to offer than just clocking in and out,” he added. Besides being described as “down to earth” and “one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet” by friends and associates, Jess has also received praise as someone who has found innovative ways to make money with his unique talent and skills.

So far it seems to be working.

“If you’re doing what you love, then everyone you talk to will be better and you’ll inspire others to go after their passions,” Smiley said, delivering a seemingly cliche remark with absolute resolve. “I feel a moral obligation to go after what I love. I think there’d be a lot less conflict if we all did that.”

Like the lyrics penned in John Lennon’s timeless “Imagine,” Jess portrays the idea of hope and unity: “You may say that I’m a dreamer/But I’m not the only one/I hope someday you’ll join us/And the world will be as one.”

For a streaming/downloadable version of ‘”Things That Light Up,” as well as a collection of Jess’s entrepreneurial endeavors, visit www.jess-smiley.com.

Suburban Ocean

The disc opens with “Moon Love,” an amorously oriented song whose primary conceit links geography to psyche. It includes some charming metaphors — the mind as a sea and thoughts as plankton in that sea, for example — that milk some creative mileage out of a topic that would feel more worn in other hands. Like subsequent tracks, “Moon Love” also shows off the band’s tendency to pair quirky lyrics, warbling vocals, and instrumental sincerity in a way reminiscent, at its best moments, of Devendra Banhart.

The second track, “Chameleon,” shares this approach, beginning with a harmonized vocal intro and blusey, classic-rock-esque guitars. It’s a somewhat heavier tune than “Moon Love,” but refreshingly never becomes dark or dismal.

By staying upbeat, “Chameleon” exemplifies what puts The Archer’s Apple a head above its competition: the band takes an ultimately happy — even peppy — approach to folk longing and nostalgia. That’s also what makes the album sound so modern. Between the punchy percussion and the amalgam of influences the band draws from, Suburban Ocean sounds sort of like a folk-ish version of Vampire Weekend performing songs co-written by Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez — and I can’t think of another band out there, local or otherwise, that fits that description.

“Standing in Deserts,” the EP’s third track, shows off the band’s Americana influences with some sparkling finger picking, organ, and more strong vocals. It also has contemporary-sounding guitar parts, including some almost-indie riffs and what sounds to me like an Ebow near the end (though I can’t be sure about that).

It’s followed by “Once,” which, maybe because it loosely tells the story from which the band derives its name, most poignantly evoked a The Archer’s Apple live show for me. The song also included a relatively long instrumental build-up that — unlike those attempted by other bands — isn’t pointless, self-indulgent jamming. On the contrary, it actually felt like an appropriate effort to extend and complete the emotional arc of the song.

The final track, “Bang Bang,” is a beating, quasi-epic epitaph that feels, at times, like an embryonic version of Simon and Garfunkle. It includes some of the most yearning moments of the EP and I probably listened to it the most (though picking out a “favorite” from the collection is difficult because all the songs are pretty strong). Ultimately, then, “Bang Bang” is a satisfying conclusion to an album that draws on folk, Americana, greaser vintage, and a host of other influences to produce something that should leave listeners bobbing in the high tides of a surprisingly pleasant Suburban Ocean.

Now hailing from Las Vegas, the group draws stylistically from its new location with catchy hooks and melodies, danceable grooves and showy anthems with mainstream appeal. On one of their tracks, lead singer Dan Reynolds repeats the title of the group’s latest venture — in a quasi-chanting fashion — singing “Hell and silence/I can fight it/I can fight it,” encapsulating the record’s positive, upbeat sound.

They definitely avoid silence.

It’s hard to pinpoint one genre Imagine Dragons comfortably fits into since they borrow from such an eclectic array of musical inspiration — moving from synthesizer-dominated tunes to driving beats to arena rock anthems. The band’s grandiose and sometimes quirky sound makes it seem like they mixed musical elements picked from groups like The Killers, Blue October and Good Charlotte.

Some highlights of Hell and Silence include “Selene,” a funky, playful number with a disco-infused beat, and “I Don’t Mind,” a more contemplative tune but one that will still get your toe tapping. Chock full of synthesizer licks, “Emma” is reminiscent of a 1980s new wave ballad with a seemingly misplaced guitar solo that sounds like it’s straight off an Eagles’ album, which oddly works.

“Hear Me,” easily the catchiest song on the EP, begins with a driving beat that builds as an infectious guitar riff paves the way for Reynolds’ growling verse. However, soon the song transitions into a glossy chorus that will stay in your head for hours, akin to something you’d expect from The Killers.

Although some will say Hell and Silence is somewhat inconsistent at times and lacks a true identity, many will enjoy the band’s diverse, eccentric nature. One thing is for sure — Imagine Dragons has talent, an infectious second record, and a promising future.

I’ve always respected his work, I’ve been to his shows before, and I may even have been in a band that opened for his band, The Danburries, a long time ago (or maybe I was just at the show, I can’t completely recall.) I don’t know how these experiences might have colored the album for me, but they seem like the kind of thing that I ought to get out of the way first.

That said, however, Danburry hasn’t managed to become a respected local artist simply by hanging out for a long time. Rather, he works hard to make relevant music, which is amply evident on Goodnight Dannii. The album begins with “Nirvana, by Kurt Cobain,” a track that, while I’m not entirely sure what it has to do with Nirvana or Cobain, is a charming folk song with homespun appeal.

The song sets the tone for an album that should please folkies throughout, but is also increasingly diverse, perhaps a la Sufjan Stevens, as it progresses. Acoustic guitar and wispy vocals provide the foundation for most of the songs, but on tracks like “Artex Died In Truth of Consequences” — my personal favorite — and “Hero Kensan,” Danburry steps slightly back from the mic and hollers. The result is a series of raw moments that epitomize Danburry’s ability to milk a remarkable amount of emotion from a relatively low-fi aesthetic.

“Goodnight Dannii” thusly evokes groups like The Mountain Goats by channeling the chalky whirlpools running just off the mainstream into something left beautifully rough. It isn’t the kind of record you’d find on a Billboard chart, and it’s at best a second-cousin to many other fantastic folk-core albums that have come out of Provo’s music scene recently.

But that’s also what makes it a good listen. When Danburry yells, for example, the recording captures the ambient room tone of the studio, which grounds the songs in a physical space, the experiences in the real world. It doesn’t sound cheap or rushed, but instead opts to capture an uncanny branch of the folk zeitgeist.

Goodnight Dannii also serves as a kind of philosophical and pop cultural coda to Danburry’s remarkably prolific career to this point. Topics range from 90s music to love to the bucolic past, which means they’ll serve as an appropriate compliment to Danburry’s recent video project, Reliving the 90s — though, in fairness, there were also times when I felt the song titles were misleading.

I’m not sure, for example, how a title like “Kevin Costner is The Barry Manilow of Actors” can be anything but funny, yet the song was fairly somber and felt like a distant relative of Leonard Cohen’s darker material. That isn’t a bad thing on it’s own, but coupled with the titles I expected many of the fairly straight-faced songs to be more apparently ironic or satirical.

On the other hand, maybe I’m just not getting it. The good thing was that I really didn’t have to understand everything to enjoy the record. The lyrics are expansive and the instrumentation varied enough to embody a range of moods — and, in the end, they left me hoping that Goodnight Dannii isn’t actually goodbye from Drew Danburry.

The band successfully creates a contemporary take on an antique sound with a salt-of-the-earth vibe — but that’s not to say there’s anything ordinary about this music. The evenly-paced drum beats and clean harmonies are both intimate and personal in their everyman quality. The sound produced is at times melancholy but more often contemplative — simultaneously nostalgic and forward-looking. Utilizing instruments such as a pump organ and slide guitar, Parlor Hawk generates a vintage sound. The music and lyrics are unpretentious and fervent; simple yet rich and layered. Stylistic comparisons can be easily drawn to artists like Damien Rice, Ryan Adams or early Wilco.

“Home,” the album’s opener (embedded below), has a catchy chorus and sparse percussion with the duo of a bass drum and tambourine that eventually break into handclaps at the peak of the action. Capener careens in and out of the guitar riffs, channeling an old-timey, saloon feel as you envision an antique piano being played in the corner. Parlor Hawk’s country roots show through in “Every Bone,” a track laden with the twang of a steel guitar as the reluctant rhythm trudges forward with a message of love lost.

“Julian” the album’s most melancholy tune, utilizes Capener’s wounded voice well as he croons about faded love: “I’ll give you my canvas/Paint cracked and dry/Might lead you to question/But reason can’t ask reason why.” The album’s dream-like “Lark” is a swaying melody that plays like a bittersweet lullaby, with the ethereal chorus floating in the night sky as Capener’s voice intertwines with the female harmony. The more upbeat “Flowers” contains a bluesy guitar hook and a steady, toe-tapping beat, while “Saddest Song” is a melancholy campfire sing-a-long, featuring only vocals and an acoustic guitar.

All in all, “Hoarse and Roaring” is an album that you’ll want to pick up and sing along with, no matter what mood you’re in.

Listen to: Parlor Hawk, “Home”

Check out Parlor Hawk’s MySpace page to hear more tracks and learn about the band. Also, check out their recent interview with 21st and Ivy here.

Largely the brainchild of frontman and producer Spencer Russell, A is one of the most inspired and unique discs to drop from a Utah band in quite some time. While the Utah Valley scene has produced some great artists in recent years who’ve found widespread success, it seems fairly safe to say that we always know what they’re going to give us. Joshua James creates brilliantly soulful folk music that transports you to a different time. Neon Trees make you want to dance your face off while singing along at the top of your lungs to their synth-driven dance-rock jams. We love these excellent homegrown artists for what they do — but they are known entities. They just are who they are.

Mudbison is a whole different breed. When the band officially formed in early 2009, their early tunes were generally acoustic guitar-driven folk ditties penned by Russell and then sparsely augmented with keys, bass and drums. More than a year later, the sounds of A could not be more different. Now gleaming with a studio-quality sheen proffered by Russell’s burgeoning production genius, each song brings its own unique flavor while still fitting into a larger, cohesive, and distinctly “Mudbison” feel.

Some tracks, including the simple acoustic opener “The Mailman Song” and the tender piano ballad “Wait for Me,” wouldn’t have felt out of place in the band’s early catalog, while pulsing synths and sampled beats provide a glimpse into a completely different creative vision on album standouts like “Color T.V.” and “Mama Nix.” Similarly, old Russell standbys like “Little Indian” and the ever-popular “Suburbia” get electronica-tinged upgrades that retain the soul of the original recordings while taking the songs to new, more expansive heights. Indeed, to listen to A’s “Suburbia” (included below) in comparison to the original version off Russell’s self-released 2009 solo disc is to glimpse the possibilities of a band truly reinventing themselves and their sound, while pushing the sonic limits of their creativity.

That’s not to say A is all fun and games. The somber yet expansive “Joy!” shows Russell confronting the untimely passing of his mother through song more directly and powerfully than ever before. By layering his delicate piano melody and guitar picking with profoundly affecting backing harmonies provided by Caitlin Duncan and field recordings of his mother discussing her difficult struggle with cancer, Russell simultaneously creates one of the most devastating and most uplifting pieces of music I’ve ever heard. I challenge any individual with a heart to closely listen to “Joy!” alone in a room and try not to cry your eyes out. (I’m almost certain it can’t be done.)

But, in short, that’s what A and, by extension, the new Mudbison is — a brilliant amalgamation of musical styles and thematic tones that create an even greater whole. Russell and Duncan’s voices blend together effortlessly in any scenario, whether it be an up-tempo dance number or a sparse acoustic ballad, giving the album a shape-shifting versatility that’s sure to please listeners of all kinds. If you like music and have yet to hop on the Mudbison train, now is as good a time as any to walk — no, run — toward the light and receive your tuneful reward.

Listen to: Mudbison, “Suburbia”

Hear more Mudbison and learn about the band at their MySpace page here.

You can view the video here.

Though ten years ago Badu might have generated headlines simply for putting out a popular song, today the media’s attention has focused squarely on the video’s propriety, and whether it’s irreverent to JFK’s memory. You can read all about it in this MSNBC article, among other places.

What’s so funny about the debate, however, is that it overlooks a couple of vastly more important questions. First, who cares about any of the stuff Badu chose to include in her video (including, sadly, herself)? And, second, how has Badu been let off the hook for making what amounts to a bland rip-off of something much better?

It’s worth noting that Badu has long been a respected artist. She also made a fair amount of money and had several charting hits. On the other hand, and despite periodically putting out some new material, she hasn’t really done much lately worth noting. Of course, stripping in a video was sure to remedy that, but it doesn’t compellingly make the argument that her music is particularly relevant.

The attention being given to JFK’s unwitting role in the controversy is similarly baffling. Though many in the soon-to-be-retired set deify Kennedy, that attitude has always seemed odd to me. Sure, he died, but was he an otherwise exceptional president? His New Frontier is a joke compared to LBJ’s Great Society. (Though Kennedy doesn’t seem to get the recognition he deserves for pursuing American involvement in the glorious conflict known as Vietnam.) And in any case, who gets choked up about James Garfield or William McKinley, Kennedy’s assassinated presidential predecessors? Who questions the reverence artists give to their assassination sites?

The point here isn’t to knock JFK. Rather, it’s to point out that he matters less and less all the time. The Cold War is over. Few people under 40 put Kennedy on a pedestal any more, and few under 30 even think much about him. History matters, of course, but JFK’s relatively short moment in the sun doesn’t have the emotional weight it used to, and it even seems increasingly like just another page from a high school text book.

And now, so does Badu. “Window Seat” references a fading historical figure that’s out of touch with younger listeners, and to top it off Badu ends up nude. It feels like the kind of groping for fame that Toni Braxton tried at the 2001 Grammys when she stole a page from Jennifer Lopez’s 2000 playbook and wore next to nothing. It made headlines, sure, but it also smacked of plagiarism and desperation.

Which brings up the second point: Badu’s surprising — but ultimately fruitless — rip-off of the video for “Lessons Learned,” a song by Brooklyn-based band Matt and Kim.

Matt and Kim’s video came out last year, and was well-received. It appeared on Pitchfork’s best videos of 2009, won an MTV Video Music Award, and generally raised the band’s profile. And, in fairness to Badu, the “Window Seat” video begins with on-screen text citing its inspiration. (You can see Matt & Kim’s original video here.)

Yet somehow, Badu’s later work still comes off as a watered down, pretentious, and bloated mainstream version of what was an innovative work by an up-and-coming band. Like Badu’s video, Matt and Kim’s involves the musicians walking through the street, taking off clothes. In this case, however, the setting is New York City, a place with infinitely more relevance in a post-9/11 world than the hallowed ground of a cold warrior’s death.

As Matt and Kim’s video progresses, it also unfolds much like Badu’s, right up to the tragic ending. What makes it so much more appealing, however, is that the band isn’t trying to cram pocketbook philosophy down viewers’ throats. While Badu’s version gets caught up in the JFK references and indicts the idea of “groupthink,” Matt and Kim leave their video open for interpretation. It’s subtle, timely, and viscerally fun. “Window Seat,” on the other hand, saps all the pleasure out of normally exciting things like the ’60s and nudity.

Ultimately, it’s not surprising that a mainstream artist 10 years past her heyday feels less relevant than an occasionally naked New York indie band. What is disappointing, however, is that the video’s focus — as well as that of the surrounding debate — on baby boomer fetishes makes Badu seem less appealing. It conveys the sense that she needs (but doesn’t have) a comeback, as opposed to just another hit song, and distracts from the suddenly more-deserving-of-attention Matt and Kim.