A Quick One, Before He's Away

Wanted to take a moment to scribble one more entry before my annual pilgrimage home for a glorious weekend of musical tapas in my beloved city by the lake.  I'll check in afterwards with my usual Lolla roundup, but for now wanted to offer a bit about the great new album by Brooklyn quartet Woods, With Light and Love.  The album's touchstones span genres and eras -- early Americana with some country-fried crumbles sprinkled in, 60s era Brit rock like The Byrds with a little 70s era Band or Neil Young there as well -- which lends the affair an immediately recognizable vibe.  Across the album's ten songs and 40 short minutes, you'll find yourself slipping into riffs and progressions as easily and invitingly as a well-worn shoe.

Much of that has to do with lead singer Jeremy Earl's high-pitched falsetto, which wraps each song in a golden glow only augmented by the nostalgia evoked by the album's influences.  The band effortlessly shifts between the latter, running through all three of them in order on the album's opening trio -- from the blissful honkytonk of "Shepherd" to the taut psychedelia of "Shining" and the smoldering jam of the title track, the band showcases an impressive range on this, their sixth album.

They continue the shifts across the remaining tracks, with high points being the radiant "New Light," whose harmonies kick in halfway through and elevate things to the atmosphere; the languid and lovely "Full Moon," which glides along on a shimmering slide guitar riff; and the elegant and stately "Leaves Like Glass," which sounds like a long lost outtake from The Last Waltz, one every bit as worthy of that legendary band's performance.  Nothing tops the below track, "Moving to the Left" for me, though -- beautiful harmony and melody, simple, solid lyrics, and an overall feel that is warm, bright, and instantly familiar, much like the album that contains it.   A great track on an equally great album -- check it out here:

Nothing Ordinary: Lucius

Wanted to take a minute in between Cup games to throw a new log on the fire, the debut from Brooklyn quintet Lucius, Wildewoman. I've been listening to this one for months now and haven't been able to fully shake it; woke up humming a couple tracks from it again this morning, in fact. It's a beguiling mix -- at turns 60s-era girl group pop (the title track and "Hey, Doreen"), at others quiet folk spirituals ("Go Home" and "Two of Us on the Run"). Still others find you falling victim to some strange Santigold-style drive-by (the propulsive "Nothing Ordinary," for example).

What makes them all hang together -- and what makes the album so eminently memorable writ large -- are the impeccable vocal harmonies of lead singers Jess Wolfe and Holly Laessig. No matter the style, the pair's voices wind together so beautifully it's impossible not to enjoy. Guitarists Andrew Burri, Peter Lalish, and drummer Danny Molad lend to the polish and the evocative 60s atmosphere, crafting some likeable hooks and rhythms, but the ultimate draw are Wolfe's and Laessig's voices. It's a thing to behold, and an exciting sign of things to come, hopefully.

The band shows a facility moving between the disparate styles, equally at home with the more stripped down numbers as the quickfire pop blasts, and I'm looking forward to checking them out next month live at Lolla. For me, the band is at its best when it's sampling across the influences, with tracks like "Until we Get There" and "Turn it Around," which shine as amalgamations as varied as the patrons of a DC barroom. My favorite is the album's midpoint, the excellent "Tempest," which dances along on 80s synth, a simple strummed guitar, and the resonant vocals of Wolfe and Laessig. Simple, yet effective. Check it out here: