Reader's Choice: Fan Mail

Thought I'd take advantage of Lolla ticket day to pop in with some recommendations not from the fabled chaos of Bobby Sunshine's brain for a change, but from a few of you -- the three non-familial readers of this site. From time to time the three of you are kind enough to shoot me feedback ("Hey dummy, you're way off base about [Band X] -- they suck almost as much as your semi-millennial posts!"), and sometimes they soften their shots with a touch of sugar and a band they think is worth the attention I'm currently squandering elsewhere.  So the below represent three of their best suggestions from recent months -- the indie trio Good Old War, the duo Blind Pilot, and solo artist Gregory Alan Isakov.

The first offering comes from my buddy Mr. 50 (per) Cent, a lover of terrible metal and some bands like these guys who are actually quite nice.  Good Old War -- a mix of Philly-based Keith Goodwin, Tim Arnold, and Daniel Schwartz's names and notes -- conjure a mellow vibe on this, their eponymous sophomore effort. Full of songs about life ("Sneaky Louise"), love ("My Own Sinking Ship"), and the pursuit of happiness ("My Name's Sorrow") the band rides along on Goodwin's bright vocals and Schwartz's fingerpicked guitar.  It works well -- the band manages to thread the needle on songs whose tone or lyrics easily could tip towards schmaltz, but they maintain an earnest, sincere tenor throughout.  It's a lovely Sunday afternoon album, and none shines brighter (or combines the aforementioned three pots better) than "That's Some Dream," which you can check out here:


Next comes an offering from a total stranger, so courtesy of Silent Observer, meet Blind Pilot. Comprised of singer/guitarist Israel Nebeker and drummer Ryan Dobrowski this Portland, OR duo arrive with another Sunday morning special on their debut, 3 Rounds and a Sound.  Similar to Good Old War, this one exudes a warmth and sweetness that works nicely across the album's eleven songs. Nebeker's voice is a little deeper and fuller than Goodwin's, and he adds a few more notes of melancholy to the proceedings to round things out, but the effect (and enjoyment) is largely the same.

A languid, almost stately feel abounds -- from "Paint or Pollen" and "Poor Boy" to "Two Towns from Me" and "I Buried a Bone" -- each stretches lazily like a cat in the sun alongside Nebeker's classical fingerpicking and hushed croon.  His lyrics are more obtuse than Goodwin's ("make music with the chatter in here, and whisper all the notes in my ear" from the lush opener "Oviedo"), which keeps you coming back to parse the mystery while the melodies usher you along.  The closing title track shoots a little more clear, with lyrics on love in the hard times and a quiet resolve, which resonated lately -- check it out here:


Last up comes one from the reason for that resolve, the unstoppable hype machine that is my Commando.  She found this one and put it on during one of our roadtrips a few months ago and it stood out, so wanted to share the discovery.  Hatched from the talent of another Philadelphian (by way of South Africa and Colorado), Gregory Alan Isakov's latest The Weatherman, may be a first heard to me/you, but actually is his fifth disc. (And it came out two years ago, so we're late there too!) Despite being slow on the uptake, the minute you hear the opening strains of the regal "Amsterdam," you'll understand what others have likely known for years.

Isakov has a wonderful voice -- similar to the other bands noted today, he at times calls to mind Paul Simon, while others acts like Clem Snide, Bon Iver, or Jose Gonzalez -- and it lulls you into the warm stupor of a fireside nap.  If Good Old War sketch the sunnier notes and Blind Pilot the melancholic mid-tones, Isakov fills in the weary shadows to the same painting. (The fatigue on "Honey, It's Alright" is almost palpable, while the narrator of "Second Chances" sounds like a man who's handed out more than his fair share.) Perhaps that's why the brighter moments shine all the more -- "Living Proof" and "Suitcase Full of Sparks" provide some animated juxtaposition to the gutshot hush, but none top the lovely "Saint Valentine." A lush little narrative infused with Isakov's patented weariness marbling the lyrics. Check it out here: