First up is this cool blast from the 60s, Fitz and the Tantrums' debut album, Pickin' up the Pieces. From the first notes of the opener "Breakin' the Chains of Love" you feel it -- the strolling bass, skiffle drum lines, sax flourishes, female backing singers -- that old soul swagger grabs you and makes you wanna stand up and shake your tail feather. This style has, and forever will be happy Sunday mornings to me. (Our family's soul Sunday brunches, with Brother Ray, Reverend Al, and Stevie on the record player and waffles, bacon, and eggs on the plate.) Thus it always plants a smile on my face when I hear it, and this album is no different. It gets you grinning from the outset and scarcely lets up for the intervening ten songs."Don't Gotta Work it Out," the title track, "L.O.V.," and the lead single "Moneygrabber" -- they all crackle with that generation's pop-timism and lushness. Simple lyrics about love or well-mannered protest, a solid groove, and stellar harmonies. It's like you've stumbled onto an oldies radio station loaded with Motown classics -- which is not to say they sound derivative or stale. Lead singer Michael Fitzpatrick and the rest of his LA bandits have managed to breathe new life into the sound, reviving its best elements (like similar retro band Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings) and reminding a modern audience that certain elements never get old. Check out "L.O.V.," for example -- despite the millions of songs written about love to date, I defy anyone not to start singing along as the spelling bee leads into the big, booming chorus.
The best of the bunch is "Dear Mr. President," though. It combines the dark, cool mystery of a cocktail lounge, a dose of menace with its spiritual-style grunts and "huh!'s" from the background, and female vocalist Noelle Scaggs' incredible voice, whose urgent, plaintive cries punctuate an already excellent song throughout. Check it out here:
Skipping into the 70s comes the second offering from Swedish (that's right, I said Swedish) band Graveyard, the masters of retro hard rock, and their album Hisingen Blues. I don't remember how I stumbled onto these guys a few months back -- I think it might have been one of those NPR music samplers, surprisingly -- but have been obsessed with them ever since. They combine the heaviness and force of that era's best with the slinky bluesiness that so often tempered the bludgeoning attack. Pick any song from this or their first album and you'd think it was a cut from early 70s AM radio.Sounding like a hybrid of Cream and Black Sabbath, these guys erupt from the gate like a pissed-off Viking and lay waste to the subsequent 45 minutes (to say nothing of your head). Catacombs dark, sledgehammer heavy, and ready to steamroll whatever comes in their way, the band nimbly shifts between those two inspirations -- one minute lead singer Joakim Nilsson growls and shouts like a revved up Ozzy, the next he croons like Jack Bruce in his heyday, often times in the same song.
Stellar examples include the thunderous opener "Ain't Fit to Live Here," whose percussion alone is enough to level small African villages (honestly, when drummer Axel Sjoberg somehow adds more elephantine kicks to the final sortie at 2:30, your brain is a puddle -- the only appropriate response is, "geezus F#$K! that is heavy...") and "Uncomfortably Numb," which deftly navigates the tried and true quiet-loud dynamic and builds the pressure until the song absolutely explodes at the 4:50 mark. The album catches its breath midway through with the instrumental "Longing" before launching into the final assault with winners like "Ungrateful are the Dead" and "RSS," an all-out marauding sprint to the fortress gates.
None are more punishing and primally satisfying than "No Good, Mr Holden," though, five minutes of near perfection. Nilsson shouts and swoons like he's possessed, Sjoberg's snare runs roil the pot til it threatens to boil over, and guitarist Truls Morck and bassist Rikard Edlund fly around menacingly until everything erupts in a frenzy in the song's final minute. Sick, sick stuff -- check it out here:
Last up on our travels is a trip to the trashy punk sound of the early 80s with New York's Radio 4 and their second album, the appropriately named Gotham. Sounding like early dance rock pioneers Gang of Four and their modern day proteges (and fellow Brooklyners) The Rapture, the band has a knack for lighting a fire under your feet and getting you moving. All nervous guitars, propulsive drums, and throbbing bass lines, this music is engineered to make you shake your ass.They set the table with the opener "Our Town," an effective warmup to the absolute onslaught of the following four tracks -- "Start a Fire," "Eyes Wide Open," "Struggle," and "Calling all Enthusiasts." These are as good a run as you could ever hope for-- the rest of the album is good, but nowhere near as solid as these four -- and worth the price of admission alone. From the enormous fuzzed up bass line of "Fire" to the agitated, buzzing guitars on "Eyes" and "Enthusiasts" (whose conclusion is positively batshit -- I challenge any of you to stay still for the final minute), the urge to move is irresistible.
Never more so than on "Struggle," a three minute heart attack that will have you spasming like an epileptic. The bass and drums are undeniable, vocalist Tommy Williams's repeated injunctions to "get behind the struggle" gets you chanting like a robot, and when the guitar drone starts buzzing at the 2:30 mark your resistance is gone -- your head will be shaking with the rest of you. So stand up, do a quick stretch, and get ready for the party here -- until next time, amici...
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We'll close with two tracks that have been stuck in my brain the last few months for unknown reasons, both quiet gems that have provided the salve to my battered body after another arduous slog in the trenches. First is Neko Case's "The Pharoahs," one of many pretty gems by a woman whose voice is so knee-buckling beautiful it could make the heavens feel shabby and drab. Neko's one of my absolute favorites and this song has been on endless repeat since I saw her live a few months ago (something I urge everyone to do if at all possible). Something about when she sings "you kept me wanting like the wanting in the movies and the hymns, I want the pharoahs, but there's only men" is like a kick to the stomach every time. Which am I, and what do I have/want? Quien sabe? I have my thoughts -- figure out where you stand by giving her a listen here:
The backside to this twin bill of solitude is from the band everyone seems to love these days, Mumford and Sons. And while I've battled my fair share of resistance to these guys thanks to their overwhelming popularity (you know how much I love doing/liking what I'm told to), but there's no arguing with the quality of songs like this one. A beautiful little batch of hushed harmonizing and finger-picked guitar, this one's a soothing blast of cold air on a hot summer's day. The uplifting comfort of the lyrics ("you are not alone in this...") adds a nice layer of heart to the proceedings. Check out "Timshel" here:
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