It's been a few weeks since the annual trip home and I've had time to process the glories and digest the slew of new tunes that I brought back with me, so wanted to stop in and share some of the highlights. Unsurprisingly it lived up to all the anticipation, remaining my favorite weekend of the year for ten years running now. And while in previous years the excitement came from lineups that seemed like I handpicked them myself, this year was a little different as it was largely a bunch of newer bands, ones whose catalogs often weren't much larger than the number of years most of the concertgoers had been out of high school. For every Metallica or Paul McCartney with decades under their belts, there were twice as many bands working off their debut or sophomore albums, which made this year all about discovering the next wave, with more hopscotching between stages than ever.
And all the hustling paid off -- I got to catch some or all of the sets for forty-odd bands, with high notes including hearing one of the two living Beatles sing Blackbird under a full moon by the lake, seeing Austin's Black Pistol Fire absolutely detonate the stage in the mid-afternoon heat, and seeing acts I wouldn't normally pay to see (like Sam Smith and Florence + the Machine) and being truly impressed with their sincerity and showmanship. Overall, though, the weekend came down to the number three -- three sets from bands I knew all about and was excited to see (in some cases for the fifth or sixth time), three sets from newbies that instantly won me over, all shared with three folks who tagged along and made the weekend even more enjoyable.
For the oldies, they shook out nicely, with one mindblowing performance per day. Day One winner (and maybe overall weekend champion) were the Alabama Shakes. This was their second time on the Lolla bill, but their first time actually performing, thanks to the monsoon that shut the festival down three years ago and wiped out their set. Brittany and the boys came ready to wow this time, though, and wow they did. The band's new material sounded fantastic live, like a Stax-style revue of old with Brittany she-cocking across the stage and whipping the crowd into a lather with her bright, flowing burgundy and orange getup and electric yellow mohawk. For a minute it looked like the band might be cursed, as the power blew out midway through and it looked like they might not get to finish the set they'd been building so steadily to a climax. Thankfully, though, they got things squared away and unleashed an amazing finish, including a version of "You Ain't Alone" that brought tears to the eye. Unbelievable stuff for a band only on their second album.
Day Two's winner was one of my overall faves, the juggernaut that is Death From Above 1979, who I actually ended up seeing twice over the weekend. Between the two sets, the boys played pretty much every song they've recorded over their ten year (and two disc) existence, and it left the main stage at the south side of the park a smoldering ruin. There's nothing complicated to what they do -- drums, a distorted bass, and Sebastian's strangled wail (the latter piece being what usually determines instantly whether you love or hate them) -- but once they get going, they are unstoppable. They are so loud, the grooves so irresistible, I can see them (or listen to them) a hundred times and never tire of them. And they surely didn't disappoint here -- I think they made more than a few new fans in the scorching heat this year.
And speaking of not disappointing (or not tiring of a band no matter how many times you've seen them), that brings us to Day Three's winner, the Lolla stalwart of Eugene's band of merrymen, Gogol Bordello. I've seen these guys probably a dozen times (half of them here at Lolla) and they are always a blast, but this year was one of their best. They unleashed their usual brand of Gypsy-infused punk and got people into a frenzy, but it wasn't until the end of the set when they surprised even me. That was when Eugene threw a bass drum into the crowd, paused for a moment, and then pounced like a Ukrainian panther on top of it, where he stood and sang the remainder of the song -- on top of a drum held up by the crowd. ?!?@?!##! Holy. Crap. Seeing the band live remains one of the things every human should do before they die, and this just proves another reason why. Incredible.
The three new discoveries may not have had the jaw-dropping impact of the previous three's performances, but they make up for that with plenty of potential. All three are debut bands, both at Lolla and in their broader recording count, and all three have been on constant shuffle in the month since the show. First up is Catfish and the Bottlemen, a UK-based band of Welshmen, Englishmen, and an Aussie, whose debut, The Balcony, (and their Lolla set) are crammed full of belt it to the rafters indie pop. Lead singer Van McCann (whose name sounds like a cartoon villain or porn star) has one of those great rock voices that can go from melodic croon to gravelly yell without breaking a sweat, as he shows off routinely in songs like "Homesick," "Pacifier," and "Cocoon." The songs are catchy as hell, none moreso than "Kathleen," which will have you yelling along in tandem as it blazes from your stereo. Check it out here:
Newbie #2 comes from a St Paul four-pack of kids who aren't old enough to drink from said beverage caddy, the delightful lads of Hippo Campus. And while these kids may have just graduated high school, they sound more polished and confident than bands twice their age. They've only released a six-song EP thus far, but it (and their Lolla set) are chock full of jaunty, bright little tunes that evoke an island vibe similar to Vampire Weekend (without all the esoteric literary or grammatical references...) At times lead singer Jake Luppen sounds so much like Vampire's Ezra Koenig it's uncanny, but these boys aren't a knockoff of VW, more like inspired proteges. Songs like "Sophie So," "Souls," and "Suicide Saturday" are all winners, as is "Little Grace," which was an instant favorite during the show. The band was pogoing up and down at the release, as was the crowd, and the effect still works on repeated listens. Check it out here:
The final discovery of the weekend came in the middle of the unrelenting heat on Day Two when I shuffled over to the refuge of the BMI stage (which remains the best stage at the concert year after year, both for its lovely shaded view of the lake and the number of bands I've discovered there) and caught a magical set from the London trio Bear's Den. It was a deja vu experience to when I first heard Boy & Bear a few years back, both because of where they were playing and how similar they sound (as well as the animal in their names and the beautiful harmonies they set free). From tracks like "The Love we Stole" and "Isaac" to "Magdalene" and "Agape," the band wins you over from the minute you hear them. They're beautiful tunes, and their debut Islands is full of them, none better than the knee-buckling beauty of "Above the Clouds of Pompeii," which builds to a lovely three-part harmony at the end. Check it out here:
Monday, September 7, 2015
Saturday, July 25, 2015
Electric Daisy Carnival -- Around the World in 180BPM
Figured I'd sneak one more in before the annual pilgrimage home for Lolla and since the dance tent there is routinely one of the best parts of the weekend, thought I'd throw one down for the electroheads and offer a medley of stuff from that side of the aisle. My daily fourteen hour shifts at the dick punching machine have been taking their toll lately, so I could use a dance party like no one's business, and these have helped gin one up, even if it's just from the confines of Sunshine palace.
First up is a track from French DJ Gesaffelstein who I'd gotten into the last few years based on a bunch of his remixes. I hadn't realized he'd released a full-length so recently stumbled upon his debut, Aleph, and it's a solid mix of slinky, heavy tracks. Similar to Cuba and its cigars or Russia and its shirtless, bear-riding emirs, some countries are indisuputably better at producing certain things, and for whatever reason French DJs are always the epitome of this genre. Gesaffelstein upholds the mantle of fellow countrymen Daft and Justice well, producing a effortlessly cool and invigorating batch of tracks that showcase his sound, which melds equal parts 80s video game bleeps and thudding beats.
Similar to Kavinsky and Crystal Castles, his stuff could form the soundtrack to almost any movie of that era and sometimes sounds like your Nintendo took over the DJ booth, but what sets him apart is how he funnels that signature French slinkiness to the beats, which he girds with steel they hit so hard. Tracks like "Obsession," "Duel," "Hate or Glory," and "Trans" are all bangers, and "Out of Line" and "Destinations" both crackle with vocalist Chloe Raunet's matter of fact spoken lyrics. Nothing tops "Pursuit" for me, though. The beat is a sledgehammer once it drops in behind the "moo cow" sounding chant, and he then ping pongs it back and forth over the next four minutes. This one's a high speed chase through the night as you fly from the law in a stolen car -- check it out here:
Next is the latest release from UK legends The Chemical Brothers, Born in the Echoes, their first in five years and a pretty solid return to form from the unevenness of that outing, Further. The Chems have always been able to get things going, almost single-handedly ushering in the age of the big beat nearly twenty years ago with their classic debut, Exit Planet Dust (for the second post in a row, I feel like a fucking dinosaur for statements like that), and those skills haven't rusted at all in the intervening span. This one gets off to a fast start as the first five songs blast away, and the album does a good job of hitting the notes of the duo's previous offerings. Tracks like the opening of "Sometimes I Feel So Deserted" and "Under Neon Lights" wouldn't sound out of place on their debut or Dig Your Own Hole, the Q-Tip driven "Go" calls to mind Push the Button, and "I'll See You There" would be right at home on Surrender. Several of the latter tracks evoke Further or We Are the Night, and not coincidentally that's where the album loses a little steam, but overall it's a solid effort that showcases how varied an attack these two wield. Top note goes to "EML Ritual," another one that wouldn't be out of place on that debut, and another that just builds to a freak out at the end on the heels of another killer beat. Check it out here:
Third spot is a trip to Jamaica courtesy of Diplo, who continues his Sherman's march across the landscape, demolishing everything in his path including your ability to stand still. His insane hot streak rolls on unabated, and he's already thrown out two albums this year that are sure to make the year end list -- one with the usually uninspiring Skrillex (the aptly named Skrillex and Diplo Present Jack U) and the other with his coterie of island Rastafarians as Major Lazer. Taken together, they highlight Diplo's knack for collaboration and his seemingly endless sources of inspiration, as both albums are chock full of guest stars and genres, cramming everything from hip hop, dancehall, moombahton, and crazy revenge of the robots style tracks together with appearances by Ellie Goulding, 2 Chainz, Pusha T, and even the Bieber for a rowdy good time. (Missy's verses on the remix version of "Take U There" are bananas and make you desperately miss the M I Double S Y E.)
What he also does -- primarily on the latter album, the third Lazer offering, Peace is the Mission, but also occasionally on Jack U -- is show his mastery of the downtempo track. Not known for slowing things down, as anyone who's gone and had their face blown off at his wild DJ sets can attest, Diplo shows the power of taking things down a notch and letting your heart rate slow below triple digits here. A far less rambunctious affair than normal, this one is nearly half top notch half steppers -- from the opening "Be Together" to the closing "All My Love," with the monster twin bill of "Lean On" and "Powerful" propping up the middle, this one's built on a foundation of these four tracks. And it works -- each of those tracks smolder under the four female vocalists and their lyrics of love, and they make the uptempo tracks in between hit all the harder for the juxtaposition. None moreso than "Too Original," which is three and a half minutes of mayhem and a gonzo encapsulation of everything that makes this guy so irresistible. Check it out here:
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We'll close with one more single, a track off the latest Boys Noize album, and one more plug, for the killer documentary Shut Up and Play the Hits. For the former, it's a trip to Germany for the high point off the uneven, Boys Noize Presents Strictly Raw, Vol. 1, which is unfortunately characteristic of DJ Alexsander Ridha's previous offerings. For every stellar turn (Oi Oi Oi or his Fabriclive DJ set) there's an erratic mixed bag (this, Power). It can be vexing because of how good he can be -- hopefully he's got another ace up his sleeve soon. In the interim, enjoy this track, "Cerebral," which rolls into town on a thudding buzz and keeps going on the staccato ride and Pilo's vocals. Check it out here:
For the latter, I happened to catch a showing of the aforementioned documentary last week, which captures the final concert of the great LCD Soundsystem, and I was surprised how enjoyable it was. Part behind the scenes conversations with frontman James Murphy in the days before/immediately after the show and part selections from that final night's setlist, it captures his quiet thoughts and reflections, as well as the raucous scene inside Madison Square Garden that night. LCD always maintained an arm's length distance from things, channeling a diffident cool or snarky judgment to their lyrics and performances, and it made them tough to embrace. When they dropped the NY attitude, though, and focused on getting the party started, they could be amazing (the climax of "All My Friends" remains one of the greatest payoffs in song) and they were in rare form here. It's a fantastic watch, chock full of guest stars Last Waltz style (Arcade Fire shows up and actually gives the film its title) and great songs, and it will get you moving on the couch. They play all the ones you want, as well as a few surprises, including this one from their 45:33 EP -- it proved they could do no wrong that night, with comedian Reggie Watts showing up and crushing his half of the duet. Check it out (before you immediately go watch the whole movie) here:
First up is a track from French DJ Gesaffelstein who I'd gotten into the last few years based on a bunch of his remixes. I hadn't realized he'd released a full-length so recently stumbled upon his debut, Aleph, and it's a solid mix of slinky, heavy tracks. Similar to Cuba and its cigars or Russia and its shirtless, bear-riding emirs, some countries are indisuputably better at producing certain things, and for whatever reason French DJs are always the epitome of this genre. Gesaffelstein upholds the mantle of fellow countrymen Daft and Justice well, producing a effortlessly cool and invigorating batch of tracks that showcase his sound, which melds equal parts 80s video game bleeps and thudding beats.
Similar to Kavinsky and Crystal Castles, his stuff could form the soundtrack to almost any movie of that era and sometimes sounds like your Nintendo took over the DJ booth, but what sets him apart is how he funnels that signature French slinkiness to the beats, which he girds with steel they hit so hard. Tracks like "Obsession," "Duel," "Hate or Glory," and "Trans" are all bangers, and "Out of Line" and "Destinations" both crackle with vocalist Chloe Raunet's matter of fact spoken lyrics. Nothing tops "Pursuit" for me, though. The beat is a sledgehammer once it drops in behind the "moo cow" sounding chant, and he then ping pongs it back and forth over the next four minutes. This one's a high speed chase through the night as you fly from the law in a stolen car -- check it out here:
Next is the latest release from UK legends The Chemical Brothers, Born in the Echoes, their first in five years and a pretty solid return to form from the unevenness of that outing, Further. The Chems have always been able to get things going, almost single-handedly ushering in the age of the big beat nearly twenty years ago with their classic debut, Exit Planet Dust (for the second post in a row, I feel like a fucking dinosaur for statements like that), and those skills haven't rusted at all in the intervening span. This one gets off to a fast start as the first five songs blast away, and the album does a good job of hitting the notes of the duo's previous offerings. Tracks like the opening of "Sometimes I Feel So Deserted" and "Under Neon Lights" wouldn't sound out of place on their debut or Dig Your Own Hole, the Q-Tip driven "Go" calls to mind Push the Button, and "I'll See You There" would be right at home on Surrender. Several of the latter tracks evoke Further or We Are the Night, and not coincidentally that's where the album loses a little steam, but overall it's a solid effort that showcases how varied an attack these two wield. Top note goes to "EML Ritual," another one that wouldn't be out of place on that debut, and another that just builds to a freak out at the end on the heels of another killer beat. Check it out here:
Third spot is a trip to Jamaica courtesy of Diplo, who continues his Sherman's march across the landscape, demolishing everything in his path including your ability to stand still. His insane hot streak rolls on unabated, and he's already thrown out two albums this year that are sure to make the year end list -- one with the usually uninspiring Skrillex (the aptly named Skrillex and Diplo Present Jack U) and the other with his coterie of island Rastafarians as Major Lazer. Taken together, they highlight Diplo's knack for collaboration and his seemingly endless sources of inspiration, as both albums are chock full of guest stars and genres, cramming everything from hip hop, dancehall, moombahton, and crazy revenge of the robots style tracks together with appearances by Ellie Goulding, 2 Chainz, Pusha T, and even the Bieber for a rowdy good time. (Missy's verses on the remix version of "Take U There" are bananas and make you desperately miss the M I Double S Y E.)
What he also does -- primarily on the latter album, the third Lazer offering, Peace is the Mission, but also occasionally on Jack U -- is show his mastery of the downtempo track. Not known for slowing things down, as anyone who's gone and had their face blown off at his wild DJ sets can attest, Diplo shows the power of taking things down a notch and letting your heart rate slow below triple digits here. A far less rambunctious affair than normal, this one is nearly half top notch half steppers -- from the opening "Be Together" to the closing "All My Love," with the monster twin bill of "Lean On" and "Powerful" propping up the middle, this one's built on a foundation of these four tracks. And it works -- each of those tracks smolder under the four female vocalists and their lyrics of love, and they make the uptempo tracks in between hit all the harder for the juxtaposition. None moreso than "Too Original," which is three and a half minutes of mayhem and a gonzo encapsulation of everything that makes this guy so irresistible. Check it out here:
--------------------------------
We'll close with one more single, a track off the latest Boys Noize album, and one more plug, for the killer documentary Shut Up and Play the Hits. For the former, it's a trip to Germany for the high point off the uneven, Boys Noize Presents Strictly Raw, Vol. 1, which is unfortunately characteristic of DJ Alexsander Ridha's previous offerings. For every stellar turn (Oi Oi Oi or his Fabriclive DJ set) there's an erratic mixed bag (this, Power). It can be vexing because of how good he can be -- hopefully he's got another ace up his sleeve soon. In the interim, enjoy this track, "Cerebral," which rolls into town on a thudding buzz and keeps going on the staccato ride and Pilo's vocals. Check it out here:
For the latter, I happened to catch a showing of the aforementioned documentary last week, which captures the final concert of the great LCD Soundsystem, and I was surprised how enjoyable it was. Part behind the scenes conversations with frontman James Murphy in the days before/immediately after the show and part selections from that final night's setlist, it captures his quiet thoughts and reflections, as well as the raucous scene inside Madison Square Garden that night. LCD always maintained an arm's length distance from things, channeling a diffident cool or snarky judgment to their lyrics and performances, and it made them tough to embrace. When they dropped the NY attitude, though, and focused on getting the party started, they could be amazing (the climax of "All My Friends" remains one of the greatest payoffs in song) and they were in rare form here. It's a fantastic watch, chock full of guest stars Last Waltz style (Arcade Fire shows up and actually gives the film its title) and great songs, and it will get you moving on the couch. They play all the ones you want, as well as a few surprises, including this one from their 45:33 EP -- it proved they could do no wrong that night, with comedian Reggie Watts showing up and crushing his half of the duet. Check it out (before you immediately go watch the whole movie) here:
Saturday, July 11, 2015
Country Jamboree: The Importance of Being Earnest
Thought I'd take a moment while wifey's away prepping for her regional rap battle tonight to jump in with another couple recommendations. First one's for the Louisville foursome Houndmouth who recently put out their sophomore album, Little Neon Limelight. Similar to their debut, From the Hills Below the City, the album showcases the band's fantastic four-part harmonies and winning melodies, filtering them through the band's "little bit country, little bit indie band" recipe maker. And that's part of the problem -- it's what made me leave the debut off the annual "best of" list, having completely forgotten about it as an option, and it's what's kept me from writing about these guys until now -- the songs often feel too polished and artificial, more the result of engineering than emotion, and that keeps them from fully resonating and sticking with you.
It's a known problem for these holler back/retro/revivalist bands -- how do you hearken back to the sounds and sights of earlier times and bands without sounding derivative, unoriginal, or insincere? It's why for every winning success (The Decemberists' Her Majesty or The King is Dead, Fitz & the Tantrums' debut) there are plenty of others that are vacuous, terrible messes (The Decemberists' Hazards of Love, Fitz & the Tantrum's follow up album). What sets the winners from the losers is the ability to draw on those elements of yesteryear and connect them with the modern heart; to spark a feeling of nostalgia or loss for those things, rather than a bland, cerebral recitation of them. It's the difference between memory and missing; heartfelt and history lesson.
Similar to their debut, this album is filled with the requisite mentions of devils and preachers, stagecoaches and whiskey, gold and guns, as well as references to cocaine and "shove it up your ass" rebelliousness, but the effect often feels forced and insincere. The latter smacks of false bravado, like a popped collar Georgetowner getting tattoos and a motorcycle, while the former feels like borrowing someone else's wedding vows -- the words work, but it feels fake because there's no real emotion behind them.
The Lumineers' debut (to pick another contemporary) resonated so strongly for that reason -- it was a big, bleeding heart that used similar imagery to the stuff here, but stands in stark contrast to this result. And it's why those other bands are so uneven -- do I really believe Colin Meloy gives a shit about his pirate ships, architects, and engine drivers or that Michael Fitzpatrick cares as deeply about 80s synth pop as he does soul music? No, I do not. But sometimes, they convince you -- when they drop the pop artifice and Mad Libs style songwriting formulas ("I need another word for 'pistol' and an old-timey conveyance: have we tried 'donkey caravan' yet?"), they can be great.
And so can these guys. The harmonies are truly exceptional -- tracks like the opening "Sedona," "Black Gold," and the stately gem "Honey Slider" show how well guitarist Matt Myers, bass man Zak Appleby, keyboardist Katie Toupin, and cans man Shane Cody's voices meld together. And the melodies are equally winning. (The slow-burning "Otis" and "Darlin'" shine, in addition to the above.) What prevents it from fully resonating is that unguarded heart. So hopefully the band takes their own words to heart, as they shout on the penultimate song -- "SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT! SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT! TIL YA BELIEVE! TIL YA BELIEVE!" Here's to hoping they do, because both their albums are full of songs you'll find yourself singing along to or pleasantly listening to in the background. If they can dial in that last element, as they do on the following song, "Gasoline," they might be truly great.
Check out that unqualified winner here -- naked emotion, hushed harmonies, and simple lyrics that feel like confessions. It resonates like a howl in the woods, despite the muted volume. Here's to more like this in the future:
The other one that I keep coming back to and finding myself unable to fully embrace is the amalgam that is The New Basement Tapes and the album, Lost on the River. Part of that is undoubtedly due to the process -- find a cache of unrecorded Dylan lyrics, assemble a group of musicians with rather different sounds (Elvis Costello, Jim James from My Morning Jacket, Marcus Mumford from Mumford and Sons, among others), and see what happens when you hit record. And what you get, by and large, is a really good set of songs that keeps the country/throwback vibe going.
The biggest critique here is the need for an editor -- at 20 songs long, there are a handful of tracks that probably didn't need to make the cut (for me, that means most of Costello's and Rhiannon Gidden's tracks, which seem arch and schmaltzy at times, in comparison to the others -- "Married to my Hack," the title track and "Hidee Ho" ones, "Six Months in Kansas City," etc) and their presence takes away from this being an outstanding album. James' and Mumford's songs are the unequivocal highlights -- the former's "Down on the Bottom" and "Nothing To It" and the latter's "Kansas City" and "When I Get My Hands On You" are all fantastic. Great vocals, great melodies, great songs that probably work better in their hands than in Dylan's. Dawes' Taylor Goldsmith's songs round out the affair nicely ("Liberty Street," "Florida Key" among them) and are worth a listen. Plenty to like here, just use the scissors when downloading.
Check out Mumford's "Kansas City" here -- vintage Mumford vocals, all bruised emotion and soaring heart, and a great melody to boot. Enjoy!
We'll break the country vibe and go out with a funky little pop song from electro producer Big Data to get the blood flowing again, the ultra catchy ear worm "Dangerous." There's nothing fancy going on -- just Joywave singer Daniel Armbruster's cooed lyrics and a simple four note bass line -- but those two elements are enough to get you moving, and that bass line will be stuck in your head for hours. Pop music at its best, check it out here:
It's a known problem for these holler back/retro/revivalist bands -- how do you hearken back to the sounds and sights of earlier times and bands without sounding derivative, unoriginal, or insincere? It's why for every winning success (The Decemberists' Her Majesty or The King is Dead, Fitz & the Tantrums' debut) there are plenty of others that are vacuous, terrible messes (The Decemberists' Hazards of Love, Fitz & the Tantrum's follow up album). What sets the winners from the losers is the ability to draw on those elements of yesteryear and connect them with the modern heart; to spark a feeling of nostalgia or loss for those things, rather than a bland, cerebral recitation of them. It's the difference between memory and missing; heartfelt and history lesson.
Similar to their debut, this album is filled with the requisite mentions of devils and preachers, stagecoaches and whiskey, gold and guns, as well as references to cocaine and "shove it up your ass" rebelliousness, but the effect often feels forced and insincere. The latter smacks of false bravado, like a popped collar Georgetowner getting tattoos and a motorcycle, while the former feels like borrowing someone else's wedding vows -- the words work, but it feels fake because there's no real emotion behind them.
The Lumineers' debut (to pick another contemporary) resonated so strongly for that reason -- it was a big, bleeding heart that used similar imagery to the stuff here, but stands in stark contrast to this result. And it's why those other bands are so uneven -- do I really believe Colin Meloy gives a shit about his pirate ships, architects, and engine drivers or that Michael Fitzpatrick cares as deeply about 80s synth pop as he does soul music? No, I do not. But sometimes, they convince you -- when they drop the pop artifice and Mad Libs style songwriting formulas ("I need another word for 'pistol' and an old-timey conveyance: have we tried 'donkey caravan' yet?"), they can be great.
And so can these guys. The harmonies are truly exceptional -- tracks like the opening "Sedona," "Black Gold," and the stately gem "Honey Slider" show how well guitarist Matt Myers, bass man Zak Appleby, keyboardist Katie Toupin, and cans man Shane Cody's voices meld together. And the melodies are equally winning. (The slow-burning "Otis" and "Darlin'" shine, in addition to the above.) What prevents it from fully resonating is that unguarded heart. So hopefully the band takes their own words to heart, as they shout on the penultimate song -- "SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT! SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT! TIL YA BELIEVE! TIL YA BELIEVE!" Here's to hoping they do, because both their albums are full of songs you'll find yourself singing along to or pleasantly listening to in the background. If they can dial in that last element, as they do on the following song, "Gasoline," they might be truly great.
Check out that unqualified winner here -- naked emotion, hushed harmonies, and simple lyrics that feel like confessions. It resonates like a howl in the woods, despite the muted volume. Here's to more like this in the future:
The other one that I keep coming back to and finding myself unable to fully embrace is the amalgam that is The New Basement Tapes and the album, Lost on the River. Part of that is undoubtedly due to the process -- find a cache of unrecorded Dylan lyrics, assemble a group of musicians with rather different sounds (Elvis Costello, Jim James from My Morning Jacket, Marcus Mumford from Mumford and Sons, among others), and see what happens when you hit record. And what you get, by and large, is a really good set of songs that keeps the country/throwback vibe going.
The biggest critique here is the need for an editor -- at 20 songs long, there are a handful of tracks that probably didn't need to make the cut (for me, that means most of Costello's and Rhiannon Gidden's tracks, which seem arch and schmaltzy at times, in comparison to the others -- "Married to my Hack," the title track and "Hidee Ho" ones, "Six Months in Kansas City," etc) and their presence takes away from this being an outstanding album. James' and Mumford's songs are the unequivocal highlights -- the former's "Down on the Bottom" and "Nothing To It" and the latter's "Kansas City" and "When I Get My Hands On You" are all fantastic. Great vocals, great melodies, great songs that probably work better in their hands than in Dylan's. Dawes' Taylor Goldsmith's songs round out the affair nicely ("Liberty Street," "Florida Key" among them) and are worth a listen. Plenty to like here, just use the scissors when downloading.
Check out Mumford's "Kansas City" here -- vintage Mumford vocals, all bruised emotion and soaring heart, and a great melody to boot. Enjoy!
We'll break the country vibe and go out with a funky little pop song from electro producer Big Data to get the blood flowing again, the ultra catchy ear worm "Dangerous." There's nothing fancy going on -- just Joywave singer Daniel Armbruster's cooed lyrics and a simple four note bass line -- but those two elements are enough to get you moving, and that bass line will be stuck in your head for hours. Pop music at its best, check it out here:
Tuesday, June 30, 2015
Southern Comfort: Shaken, Surely Stirred
Thought I'd take a moment between monsoons and my ongoing hunt for the rodent stowaway in my kitchen to come up for air with a quick recommendation. This go-round it's the latest from the Alabama Shakes, Sound & Color. It's been three years since the Shakes burst onto the scene and became indie darlings with 2012's Boys & Girls, largely on the backs of its monster single "Hold On." The temptation on the follow-up must have been significant to stay within the lines established there, indie with clear Southern flourishes, inviting without offending, with nary a note or strand out of place. Lead singer Brittany Howard was the wildcard, the one element with the ability to ruffle some feathers with her primordial wail and charming lack of polish, but even she was largely well-behaved on the debut.
You can tell from the opening notes here, though, with the vibraphone entree of the title track how resoundingly they were going to fight that urge on their sophomore effort. The band takes a series of big risks by doing so, burying the closest replicas of their debut in the last third of the album, but what they give us in return is an exceptional, chameleonic album that plumbs the wells of vintage soul, R&B, and blues, and mixes it with their brand of Southern-tinged rock. The band paints with the title, creating an album that is an endless shift of moods and hues, at times funky and muscular as on "Don't Wanna Fight" and "Shoegaze," others sultry and sedate as on "This Feeling" and "Over my Head."
You can hear the myriad influences throughout -- Otis Redding and his Stax-era soul ("Miss You"), Janis Joplin and her unbridled blues ("Gimme All Your Love"), Isaac Hayes/D'angelo style R&B with its off tempo, sensual throb ("Gemini"). They're all here and channeled through the prism of Howard's exuberant, seemingly unfiltered thoughts and emotions. And it works -- songs of yearning, songs of love, songs of hurt feelings and flippant disregard. Howard and the band damn the decorum and fire freely this time and it makes all the difference, between this and the debut, like the Enchantment Under the Sea band after Marty McFly shows up. This album hits harder, registers deeper, and stays with you longer, and I can't wait to see it performed live. Songs like "Future People" and "Dunes" (or "Gimme All Your Love" once it snaps into high gear at the end) are pure Southern revue, and were meant for the open air. They and their brethren will be glorious to see next month at Lolla, spinning out over the masses and edging towards the lake.
"Dunes" is the one I'll be waiting for, as it highlights both the band's range and the broad palette it used on this offering. It's got a little bit of everything in its four minute span -- quiet sentiment, plaintive wails, Southern funk and muscle -- that serve as nods to each of their disparate influences. It's one of many gems on this album and worth a look. Check it out here:
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We'll throw in a freebie for the road, a track off Two Gallant's latest, We are Undone. Keeping with the Southern vibe (by way of San Francisco) this bluesy twosome checks back in on their sixth full length, another solid mix of Black Keys style ditties that melds well with the rest of their catalog. Lead singer/guitarist Adam Stephens' voice carries things along nicely as it, like the album, is equal parts melody and grit. Tracks like "Some Trouble," the title track, and "Katy Kruelly" all shine, but my personal fave is the rebellious mini anthem "Fools Like Us." Drummer Tyson Vogel's thrashing, Stephens' crunchy riffs, and the thumb in the eye lyrics all resonate with my inner pissant. Maybe it will yours, too. Test the waters here:
You can tell from the opening notes here, though, with the vibraphone entree of the title track how resoundingly they were going to fight that urge on their sophomore effort. The band takes a series of big risks by doing so, burying the closest replicas of their debut in the last third of the album, but what they give us in return is an exceptional, chameleonic album that plumbs the wells of vintage soul, R&B, and blues, and mixes it with their brand of Southern-tinged rock. The band paints with the title, creating an album that is an endless shift of moods and hues, at times funky and muscular as on "Don't Wanna Fight" and "Shoegaze," others sultry and sedate as on "This Feeling" and "Over my Head."
You can hear the myriad influences throughout -- Otis Redding and his Stax-era soul ("Miss You"), Janis Joplin and her unbridled blues ("Gimme All Your Love"), Isaac Hayes/D'angelo style R&B with its off tempo, sensual throb ("Gemini"). They're all here and channeled through the prism of Howard's exuberant, seemingly unfiltered thoughts and emotions. And it works -- songs of yearning, songs of love, songs of hurt feelings and flippant disregard. Howard and the band damn the decorum and fire freely this time and it makes all the difference, between this and the debut, like the Enchantment Under the Sea band after Marty McFly shows up. This album hits harder, registers deeper, and stays with you longer, and I can't wait to see it performed live. Songs like "Future People" and "Dunes" (or "Gimme All Your Love" once it snaps into high gear at the end) are pure Southern revue, and were meant for the open air. They and their brethren will be glorious to see next month at Lolla, spinning out over the masses and edging towards the lake.
"Dunes" is the one I'll be waiting for, as it highlights both the band's range and the broad palette it used on this offering. It's got a little bit of everything in its four minute span -- quiet sentiment, plaintive wails, Southern funk and muscle -- that serve as nods to each of their disparate influences. It's one of many gems on this album and worth a look. Check it out here:
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We'll throw in a freebie for the road, a track off Two Gallant's latest, We are Undone. Keeping with the Southern vibe (by way of San Francisco) this bluesy twosome checks back in on their sixth full length, another solid mix of Black Keys style ditties that melds well with the rest of their catalog. Lead singer/guitarist Adam Stephens' voice carries things along nicely as it, like the album, is equal parts melody and grit. Tracks like "Some Trouble," the title track, and "Katy Kruelly" all shine, but my personal fave is the rebellious mini anthem "Fools Like Us." Drummer Tyson Vogel's thrashing, Stephens' crunchy riffs, and the thumb in the eye lyrics all resonate with my inner pissant. Maybe it will yours, too. Test the waters here:
Sunday, May 10, 2015
Greetings and Salutations: A Winning Debut, A Stellar Return
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
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
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
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:
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:
Sunday, March 8, 2015
Wintery Mix Advisory: Flakes, Mist, and Thunder
Finally shoveled a path from my couch to the computer, so figured I'd take a moment to stop in and highlight a few albums that have been the soundtrack to the snowfall lately. We'll start at the beginning -- in this case the beginning of what turned into indie darlings The Shins and the re-issue of the 1997 album, When You Land Here, It's Time to Return, released under the moniker Flake Music. All the original Shins are here -- most recognizably frontman James Mercer with his nasally voice and splendid melodies -- and from the onset it feels like you've stumbled upon a lost piece of their repertoire. It's classic Shins -- Mercer's aforementioned voice and harmonies aim for the stars, while Sandoval and Co. give heft to his sharp lyrics. (The album's opening line, "use a pen to reflect what you've got left to protect on the old dusty shelves of your childhood room" sets the bar from the get-go.) There's even the requisite instrumental tracks that filled time on their subsequent releases, albeit a bit more plentiful here. ("Roziere," "Candy Dish of Diamonds," "Vantage")
If anything the Shins as Flakes are a bit more amped up and muscular than you'd expect, like a high school jock in his prime before the knee injury that will leave him more timid and tame a few years down the road. (Their classic debut Oh, Inverted World came out in 2001.) "Deluca" roars from the gates while "Structo" has a classic grunge riff buttressing the chorus that works nicely. The aptly named "Blast Valve" is the most anomalous (in a good way), though -- Mercer's lyrics are still razor sharp ("there's a crowd that believes any lie that rhymes, rubs us better than our thoughts I guess..."), but what's different is the backing. Sandoval sounds like he's exacting his revenge for some unspoken slight as he punishes his kit and the band follows form, charging in his wake until things erupt at the end. It's that high school kid exploding through the line and bowling over a couple linebackers en route to the end zone; a great side of the band to see, if only for an instant.
The highlight for me is the song that's the most telling foreshadow of what's to come, the song (I'd like to think) that first lit the lightbulb in their heads and convinced them of the path they needed to follow, the one that launched The Shins as we'd come to know them. (They even named it after their future selves, it was so convincing!) It's vintage blend -- sing-song lyrics, great, shifting melodies. It wouldn't sound out of place on Inverted or Chutes too Narrow. So close your eyes and enjoy -- check it out here:
Appropriately up second is the follow-on album from singer/songwriter Josh Tillman, returning from his 2012 debut as Father John Misty. Similar to that outing (the fantastic Fear Fun), what immediately grabs you is his voice. It's a warm, wondrous thing, and it's easy to lose yourself in the glow, but what really makes his stuff special is the counterbalance -- how he juxtaposes that honey-laden croon and lush production with snarky, at times wickedly funny lyrics. It's easy to miss them if you're not paying attention -- he throws them off so casually he could be reciting his grocery list for all the emotion he's betraying -- but then you find yourself singing along and something in your brain clicks ("wait, did he/I just say...") and you start smiling because of how fucked up and excellent the lyrics are.
Take the opening single, "Chateau Lobby #4 (in C for Two Virgins)", a lovely tune about the early throes of a relationship, which also showcases the line, "I wanna take you to the kitchen, lift up your wedding dress someone was probably murdered in." Or "Nothing Good Ever Happens at the Goddamn Thirsty Crow," a stately, shuffling dirge that tosses out lines like, "Livin' it up, have it all, pull more women than any two men or train can haul," and immediately follows it with, "but my baby, she does something way more impressive than the Georgia crawl, she blackens pages like a Russian romantic and gets down more often than a blow-up doll." Or "Strange Encounter," whose opening line -- "[You'll] only ever be the girl who just almost died at my house, half-naked looking through your telephone, run you a bath and try hard not to freak out." -- sets the scene for a song about the awkward, ungraceful origins of our relationships.
Every song has at least a couple lines that are sharp enough to pierce stone. The title track would be great enough for the line, "I brought my mother's depression, you've got your father's scorn and wayward aunt's schizophrenia," but then tosses off the immaculately cynical, "Everything is doomed and nothing will be spared, but I love you, Honeybear," which I might adopt as my mantra. Nothing tops "The Night Josh Tillman Came to Our Apt," though, which is so chock full of brilliance I could quote any of its lines and still be leaving out a dozen winners. Beautiful melody, withering sarcasm, and the thing that brought you there in the first place -- Tillman's lovely voice. Check it out here:
Finally, we'll close with the decimating return of the legends -- Sleater-Kinney's ten years in the making return, No Cities to Love. I've had this thing on repeat almost non-stop since its release last month; 33 minutes of sheer, unbridled excellence. Like a prizefighter, it works on you in waves -- the initial killers were lead singles "Surface Envy" and "Bury our Friends," which are jabs probing your defenses that I bounced between for weeks until the album was released. When that finally happened (rejoice!) you're immediately greeted by the blistering opener "Price Tag," which is a hammer shot to the jaw. "Fangless," "A New Wave," and "Hey Darling," are shots aimed at your legs (or more specifically your feet, as all are bound to get you moving), while "No Anthems" is the body shot that breaks three of your ribs and ruptures your spleen.
Their last album The Woods showcased the ladies stretching out a little, thundering over you like a bear through that titular locale. This offering replicates the effect while concentrating the power -- instead of going ten rounds with a bruiser and barely making it to a decision, this is that hook to the temple that catches you unexpectedly and leaves you flat for a first round knockout. There's not much new you can say about these gals -- they're simply one of the best bands out there, male or female (damn that stupid GRRRlpower label), and they do nothing to tarnish that reputation here. As always, Corin's voice remains the litmus test -- you either love it or hate it the first time you hear it -- but as I always try to encourage people before knee-jerk writing them off, if you can force your ear to focus on the other two elements for a second -- Janet's thunderbomb drumming and Carrie's singular, stellar style of guitar playing -- Corin's siren's wail begins to make sense and shine.
That's part of what's always struck me about this band -- how perfectly balanced they are, far more so than any other I can think of. Most bands have got one, maybe two, elements that really shine -- a killer guitar player or an insanely good lead vocalist, say. The rest of the elements aren't bad, mind you, but what grabs you by the heart and/or ear and keeps you coming back are those one or two things. This band, on the other hand, is pure gestalt. You can't focus on Carrie's ever-shifting guitar runs without seeing how well Janet's drums drive them along, or how Corin's voice punctuates a guitar line or drum fill and takes the song (and mood) to the stratosphere. (Or how her lyrics drive things forward -- whether working you into a lather on anthems like "New Wave" and "Surface Envy," or exhorting you to focus on what you have in the closing "Fade." ("If we are truly dancing our swan song, darling, then shake it like never before.")) Each of them on their own are exceptional -- no bullshit, you're not likely to find many (if any) people better than them at their respective roles -- but together they're out of this world. (And somehow they're even better live -- I paid double point five over face to see them and it was well, well worth it.)
Another flawless outing from the Lady Led Zep, check out "No Anthems," a song that is a mindfuck of the highest order and hands down my favorite track on the album. Janet's drums are irresistible, Corin's lyrics and delivery are pure menace ("seduction, pure function --it's how I learned to speak. Steal your power, in my hour, I will change most everything...), and Carrie's guitar sounds absolutely possessed, like some demon-spawn slowly murdering the Matrix. I've listened to it dozens of times and it still fucks with my brain (I honestly cannot comprehend her guitar...) -- check it out here:
If anything the Shins as Flakes are a bit more amped up and muscular than you'd expect, like a high school jock in his prime before the knee injury that will leave him more timid and tame a few years down the road. (Their classic debut Oh, Inverted World came out in 2001.) "Deluca" roars from the gates while "Structo" has a classic grunge riff buttressing the chorus that works nicely. The aptly named "Blast Valve" is the most anomalous (in a good way), though -- Mercer's lyrics are still razor sharp ("there's a crowd that believes any lie that rhymes, rubs us better than our thoughts I guess..."), but what's different is the backing. Sandoval sounds like he's exacting his revenge for some unspoken slight as he punishes his kit and the band follows form, charging in his wake until things erupt at the end. It's that high school kid exploding through the line and bowling over a couple linebackers en route to the end zone; a great side of the band to see, if only for an instant.
The highlight for me is the song that's the most telling foreshadow of what's to come, the song (I'd like to think) that first lit the lightbulb in their heads and convinced them of the path they needed to follow, the one that launched The Shins as we'd come to know them. (They even named it after their future selves, it was so convincing!) It's vintage blend -- sing-song lyrics, great, shifting melodies. It wouldn't sound out of place on Inverted or Chutes too Narrow. So close your eyes and enjoy -- check it out here:
Appropriately up second is the follow-on album from singer/songwriter Josh Tillman, returning from his 2012 debut as Father John Misty. Similar to that outing (the fantastic Fear Fun), what immediately grabs you is his voice. It's a warm, wondrous thing, and it's easy to lose yourself in the glow, but what really makes his stuff special is the counterbalance -- how he juxtaposes that honey-laden croon and lush production with snarky, at times wickedly funny lyrics. It's easy to miss them if you're not paying attention -- he throws them off so casually he could be reciting his grocery list for all the emotion he's betraying -- but then you find yourself singing along and something in your brain clicks ("wait, did he/I just say...") and you start smiling because of how fucked up and excellent the lyrics are.
Take the opening single, "Chateau Lobby #4 (in C for Two Virgins)", a lovely tune about the early throes of a relationship, which also showcases the line, "I wanna take you to the kitchen, lift up your wedding dress someone was probably murdered in." Or "Nothing Good Ever Happens at the Goddamn Thirsty Crow," a stately, shuffling dirge that tosses out lines like, "Livin' it up, have it all, pull more women than any two men or train can haul," and immediately follows it with, "but my baby, she does something way more impressive than the Georgia crawl, she blackens pages like a Russian romantic and gets down more often than a blow-up doll." Or "Strange Encounter," whose opening line -- "[You'll] only ever be the girl who just almost died at my house, half-naked looking through your telephone, run you a bath and try hard not to freak out." -- sets the scene for a song about the awkward, ungraceful origins of our relationships.
Every song has at least a couple lines that are sharp enough to pierce stone. The title track would be great enough for the line, "I brought my mother's depression, you've got your father's scorn and wayward aunt's schizophrenia," but then tosses off the immaculately cynical, "Everything is doomed and nothing will be spared, but I love you, Honeybear," which I might adopt as my mantra. Nothing tops "The Night Josh Tillman Came to Our Apt," though, which is so chock full of brilliance I could quote any of its lines and still be leaving out a dozen winners. Beautiful melody, withering sarcasm, and the thing that brought you there in the first place -- Tillman's lovely voice. Check it out here:
Finally, we'll close with the decimating return of the legends -- Sleater-Kinney's ten years in the making return, No Cities to Love. I've had this thing on repeat almost non-stop since its release last month; 33 minutes of sheer, unbridled excellence. Like a prizefighter, it works on you in waves -- the initial killers were lead singles "Surface Envy" and "Bury our Friends," which are jabs probing your defenses that I bounced between for weeks until the album was released. When that finally happened (rejoice!) you're immediately greeted by the blistering opener "Price Tag," which is a hammer shot to the jaw. "Fangless," "A New Wave," and "Hey Darling," are shots aimed at your legs (or more specifically your feet, as all are bound to get you moving), while "No Anthems" is the body shot that breaks three of your ribs and ruptures your spleen.
Their last album The Woods showcased the ladies stretching out a little, thundering over you like a bear through that titular locale. This offering replicates the effect while concentrating the power -- instead of going ten rounds with a bruiser and barely making it to a decision, this is that hook to the temple that catches you unexpectedly and leaves you flat for a first round knockout. There's not much new you can say about these gals -- they're simply one of the best bands out there, male or female (damn that stupid GRRRlpower label), and they do nothing to tarnish that reputation here. As always, Corin's voice remains the litmus test -- you either love it or hate it the first time you hear it -- but as I always try to encourage people before knee-jerk writing them off, if you can force your ear to focus on the other two elements for a second -- Janet's thunderbomb drumming and Carrie's singular, stellar style of guitar playing -- Corin's siren's wail begins to make sense and shine.
That's part of what's always struck me about this band -- how perfectly balanced they are, far more so than any other I can think of. Most bands have got one, maybe two, elements that really shine -- a killer guitar player or an insanely good lead vocalist, say. The rest of the elements aren't bad, mind you, but what grabs you by the heart and/or ear and keeps you coming back are those one or two things. This band, on the other hand, is pure gestalt. You can't focus on Carrie's ever-shifting guitar runs without seeing how well Janet's drums drive them along, or how Corin's voice punctuates a guitar line or drum fill and takes the song (and mood) to the stratosphere. (Or how her lyrics drive things forward -- whether working you into a lather on anthems like "New Wave" and "Surface Envy," or exhorting you to focus on what you have in the closing "Fade." ("If we are truly dancing our swan song, darling, then shake it like never before.")) Each of them on their own are exceptional -- no bullshit, you're not likely to find many (if any) people better than them at their respective roles -- but together they're out of this world. (And somehow they're even better live -- I paid double point five over face to see them and it was well, well worth it.)
Another flawless outing from the Lady Led Zep, check out "No Anthems," a song that is a mindfuck of the highest order and hands down my favorite track on the album. Janet's drums are irresistible, Corin's lyrics and delivery are pure menace ("seduction, pure function --it's how I learned to speak. Steal your power, in my hour, I will change most everything...), and Carrie's guitar sounds absolutely possessed, like some demon-spawn slowly murdering the Matrix. I've listened to it dozens of times and it still fucks with my brain (I honestly cannot comprehend her guitar...) -- check it out here:
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