Fresh on the heels of the revelation yesterday that people outside my house actually read this (#$%@!), I figured I'd get on my horse while Ladypants is on hers (training for the Preakness!) and dip in to offer up a couple recommendations. First up is courtesy of Dodos drummer Logan Kroeber who mentioned the debut album of Astral Swans in one of his recent interviews, which got me curious to check it out. And I'm glad I did -- the album, All my Favorite Singers are Willie Nelson, is a dreamy, shimmery affair from Calgaryian Matthew Swann. It's a beguiling mixture, part 60s folk and psychedelic, part 90s grunge (it keeps making me think of the Ass Ponys without really sounding much like them) that conjures an intoxicating haze for its scant 30 minute duration. Swann has an inviting voice, one that he soaks in reverb nicely to magnify the sound, while his lyrics are cryptic elisions, teasing you with their glimmers of a broader meaning. ("We're like smoke, we're like blackouts..." "I never let go, even when there's nothing to hold..." "Maybe some rope, maybe an escape route...")
It's an album that's meant to be digested whole, with each track reinforcing the boozy warmth of its predecessor -- from the quiet violence of the opening "There are Ways to get What you Want" to the closing enigma "Grass Girl," there's not a clunker in the bunch. Standouts include "Let Their Faces All Blur Out" with its punkish energy and growling guitar, and its fraternal twin "My Conscience Doesn't Work in the New World," as well as the languid "What Calms you Down, Freaks me Out." My favorite remains the jaunty lead single, "Beginning of the End," though. It captures everything I've mentioned above -- mysterious lyrics, a buoyant energy, and a warmth that radiates from Swann's shimmering voice. It's a great track on an equally great debut; like a riddle you can't quite solve, but can't get out of your head. Definitely worth keeping tabs on him in the coming years. Check it out here:
Next up is the return of a long-time fave, the Idaho heroes Built to Spill, who charge back from a six year hiatus (their longest to date) with their eight album, Untethered Moon. What's remarkable about these guys is how relentlessly solid they are -- from song to song and album to album, they almost never miss a step. The same goes here -- from the opening assault of "All Our Songs" to the closing epic "When I'm Blind," the band offers another near flawless set of songs to add to their already considerable arsenal. There's the smoldering burn of "Some Other Song" and "Another Day;" the headbomb of "C.R.E.B.," which is loaded with the band's patented riffs and tempo shifts; and the double shot of "Never Be the Same" and "Horizon to Cliff," which capture the band's softer side and the sweetness of frontman Doug Martsch's voice. Honestly the worst thing I could think to say is that the closing track could use a slight trim, as the noodling in the middle occasionally seems aimless. (Though I'm sure will sound incredible live as it gives Martsch and Co some space to show off their considerable guitar licks and is vintage BTS, meandering off on some strange side paths before coming back to the main road like magic, so I'm reluctant to even levy that minor critique.)
It's pretty remarkable when you come to think of it. Played side by side with their previous albums, you'd be hard pressed not only to tell which was recorded in 2015 and which was recorded 20 years ago, you'd also be hard pressed to pick a favorite (or say which is "weakest," to take the opposite perspective, if such a condition exists for these guys). To be that consistent for that long (over two decades! Countries have fallen apart faster than that) is something to behold, and speaks to their overall excellence. Nobody is quite like these guys, and we're lucky they keep coming back for more. Check out the high point of this outing (which is sort of akin to picking the smartest person at a MENSA convention, but whatever), the boiling frenzy of "Living Zoo," which builds momentum like a runaway freight train before smashing your brain to pieces.
We'll close with a "just cuz" bit and a link to a classic from the legendary Replacements. These guys were one of the first bands that were mine alone -- not an inheritance from Moms' or Pops' considerable catalog of rock or soul records -- and something I listened to relentlessly as a kid. I still remember when the strange new girl at school Sarah gave me a cassette with my name on it (not realizing it was the album title and not a "To:" label) while we were sitting in home room one day. I walked home that night, popped it on, and haven't stopped listening since. Westerberg and Co always walked the line between brash, snotty punk and big hearted pop, and they formed a significant part of the soundtrack for my youth. (Along with The Smiths, the other band I discovered that year, after swiping a cassette of Louder than Bombs from my cousin.) I got a chance to see them this weekend (for a measly twelve bucks!?!?) and felt lucky to close out some unfinished business by finally seeing them live. They were, are, and forever will be fantastic, so revel in one of their classics from that cassette that changed my childhood, "Little Mascara."
Until next time, my friends... -- Bobby
Sunday, May 10, 2015
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