THIS WEEK'S FINDS
week of July 9-15
"Something of an End" - My Brightest Diamond
A quirky, multifaceted pop song with cinematic ups and downs of the Kate Bushian variety, "Something of an End" is a good introduction to the compelling work of Shara Worden, one-time cheerleading captain of the Sufjan Stevens "Illinoisemakers," now doing business as My Brightest Diamond. I am not one to value all quirkiness as good, just as I don't criticize everything quirk-free as bad; I like my quirkiness to come with substance--to be fostered, in other words, by genuine expertise, rather than the boring and ultimately empty impulse to "shock" or "rebel" or simply "be different." I think the fact that Worden's father was a national accordion champion and her mother was a church organist is important; I like too that she studied classical music in college and, later on, studied composition with Australian composer Padma Newsome. "Something of an End" feels composed, in fact--its demarcated sections sounding at once distinct and tightly bound, its melodies and harmonies rich and unsimplistic. Keep your ears on the instrumentation throughout, as Worden uses strings in particular with marvelous flair. "Something of an End" is the opening track on Bring Me The Workhorse, the debut My Brightest Diamond CD, due out in August on Asthmatic Kitty Records. The MP3 is via Worden's web site.
"Breakdown" - Stella (U.S.)
Even as the guitars squonk and blaze, and even as singer Curt Perkins emotes with the best of them, and even though the song is called "Breakdown," there's something joyous in the air here, so powerful is the energy churning around this one. I'm engaged to begin with by how the song launches with a rhythm that manages to stutter and drive at the same time. When Perkins joins in, he's singing mostly one note against, mostly, a tom-tom beat, creating a pulsing sort of urgency--you know it's going somewhere, only it's hard to figure where. I was not prepared, however, for the glistening chorus, which depends upon the vivid arrangement of a simple three-note descent. I think it's Perkins' voice most of all that creates the hook--with the chorus, it becomes more full-bodied, as if there's a howl now hiding just behind the words he sings; and the transition from the five repeated notes that open the chorus to the next note, one step down: there, that's it, that's the moment here, for me, when the song lodges in my gut. Coincidentally enough, Perkins comes from musical parents as well, his father being a classical musician, his mother a Broadway singer. Stella (which adds the U.S. officially to distinguish itself from another, Europe-based Stella) is a quartet based in Nashville; "Breakdown" comes from its "new" CD, American Weekend--the new is in quotes because the album was finished in 1999, but tied up in legal problems for, literally, years. It was legally released, at long last, last week, on Yesman Records.
"Beanbag Chair" - Yo La Tengo
It's been a while since we've heard from this proto-indie, perpetually idiosyncratic Hoboken band. And, actually, when I first listened to this song, it kind of glided past my ears without making much impact. Okay, cute horns, but then what? Ira Kaplan's trademark whispery-wavery vocals, sure. I still wasn't convinced. But after living with it a while, I find myself charmed. I think it was (again) the chorus that did it. For here, in the middle of a peppy, horn-flecked tune comes an unexpectedly delicate, delicately harmonized melody--a melody that might fit comfortably in a folk-pop tune from the late '60s, perhaps, if set in an entirely different musical context. As with "Breakdown," I think I was hooked by more or less one note--in this case, the third note Kaplan sings in the chorus (as usual with YLT, the words are nearly impossible to discern). He's just singing the basic chord triad, starting in the middle, going down to the one note, then up to the five, but the quality of his fragile tenor at the top there, combined with the casual, difficult-to-pin-down backing vocals, makes this an exquisite moment, truly. Make sure not to miss, too, the subtly chaotic bridge section, beginning around 1:40; I won't try to describe it, but for a short while there it sounds like another song is playing at the same time. "Beanbag Chair" will appear on the next Yo La Tengo album, entitled I Am Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass, set for release in September on Matador Records. The MP3 is via the Matador site.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Monday, June 26, 2006
THIS WEEK'S FINDS
week of June 25-July 1
"Ta Douleur" - Camille
Here's a song that's simultaneously really funky and really cute--and let's face it, not a whole lot of funky music over the years could also be called cute. Camille (she's from France, where it's pronounced "cam-EE") is best known in the U.S. for being one of the alluring voices on the oddly appealing Nouvelle Vague CD (the one where '80s new wave singles were reimagined as bossa-nova-tinged lounge songs); over there she quickly parlayed the success into a high-flying solo career. I love the timbre in her voice, and how willingly she stretches it in all directions--down so low the notes reduce to a dusky whisper, up high for accents sweet and sailing. And then of course there's when she abandons singing altogether for a wide range of percussive sounds, which come in an impressive range of gasps, raspberries, and unnameable ululations. Voice and hand-claps in fact make up most of the "instrumentation" here, prompting the music critic community to a) immediately compare her to Björk (because of Medulla, the Icelandic wonder's a capella album) and b) dismiss her as a simple-minded Björk knockoff (largely because Medulla is an often difficult listen while Camille's music strikes everyone as catchy and pleasant). Never mind most of these same critics at the time berated Björk for her self-absorbed difficulty. Never mind that Björk (whom I love dearly by the way) did not invent percussive a capella singing. I invite one and all, as always, to listen with ears; it's no crime to succumb to charm, and almost impossible, I think, not to during the closing half minute when a quiet bridge section turns into a wide-open, beat-crazy hoedown, complete with (I think!) trombone. "Ta Douleur" comes from the CD Le Fil, which was released in 2005 in France on Virgin France; it was released in the U.S. earlier this month on EMI's Narada label. Thanks again to Getecho for the lead.
"Kurt's Theme" - Foma
As intense and urgent as it is likewise good-natured and ramshackle, "Kurt's Theme" features a melody that I fear will lodge in your head rather too firmly after you've heard it a couple of times. With prominent strings and a profusion of minor chords, the song might veer towards melodrama were it not for a concurrent sense of playfulness that gives me the sense of its having been constructed with masking tape and styrofoam (I mean this in a good way)--the different elements jammed against each other in the hope that it all somehow holds together. Hear that portentous orchestral drive? Oops, it stops on a dime for a quiet section suddenly sung by a female vocalist, which leads into a pretty section with a plaintive violin motif, which (oh no!) runs headfirst into a peremptory blast of spastic guitar. That kind of thing. Foma is sort of a band, and sort of not a band, anchored by Edward Burch and based in the happening musical town of Albuquerque, New Mexico. "Kurt's Theme" is a song from the quirky concept CD Phobos, recorded with seven musicians and released locally this spring on Little Kiss Records, an Albuquerque-based label. The release went nationwide earlier this month. The MP3 is available via the band's site.
"Second Best Death" - Maybe Smith
So we've heard the staticky, squeaky-clackety electronics before, we've seen the one-man, laptop-generated bedroom rock thing before, and let me first say that there's nothing wrong with having heard something before. So-called "innovation" is way overvalued in our 24/7 world; we all want the newest, while overlooking the fact that a far more important value than "new" is "good" and that they are not always the same. But then the lap steel guitar comes in and okay, I've got to hand it to Colin Skrapek, the Canadian here doing musical business as Maybe Smith: that's a new one. But (remember, this is more important) it's good, too. What's even better is the entire song, with its lovely melodies, touching harmonies, and subtle hints of Elvis Costello in his songwriting heyday--in word choice, vocal tone, and musical sturdiness alike. "Second Best Death" is the title track to a seven-song EP released earlier this year on his own, Saskatoon-based Sir, Handsome Records. The MP3 is available via the Sir, Handsome web site. Much obliged to Sixeyes for the lead.
week of June 25-July 1
"Ta Douleur" - Camille
Here's a song that's simultaneously really funky and really cute--and let's face it, not a whole lot of funky music over the years could also be called cute. Camille (she's from France, where it's pronounced "cam-EE") is best known in the U.S. for being one of the alluring voices on the oddly appealing Nouvelle Vague CD (the one where '80s new wave singles were reimagined as bossa-nova-tinged lounge songs); over there she quickly parlayed the success into a high-flying solo career. I love the timbre in her voice, and how willingly she stretches it in all directions--down so low the notes reduce to a dusky whisper, up high for accents sweet and sailing. And then of course there's when she abandons singing altogether for a wide range of percussive sounds, which come in an impressive range of gasps, raspberries, and unnameable ululations. Voice and hand-claps in fact make up most of the "instrumentation" here, prompting the music critic community to a) immediately compare her to Björk (because of Medulla, the Icelandic wonder's a capella album) and b) dismiss her as a simple-minded Björk knockoff (largely because Medulla is an often difficult listen while Camille's music strikes everyone as catchy and pleasant). Never mind most of these same critics at the time berated Björk for her self-absorbed difficulty. Never mind that Björk (whom I love dearly by the way) did not invent percussive a capella singing. I invite one and all, as always, to listen with ears; it's no crime to succumb to charm, and almost impossible, I think, not to during the closing half minute when a quiet bridge section turns into a wide-open, beat-crazy hoedown, complete with (I think!) trombone. "Ta Douleur" comes from the CD Le Fil, which was released in 2005 in France on Virgin France; it was released in the U.S. earlier this month on EMI's Narada label. Thanks again to Getecho for the lead.
"Kurt's Theme" - Foma
As intense and urgent as it is likewise good-natured and ramshackle, "Kurt's Theme" features a melody that I fear will lodge in your head rather too firmly after you've heard it a couple of times. With prominent strings and a profusion of minor chords, the song might veer towards melodrama were it not for a concurrent sense of playfulness that gives me the sense of its having been constructed with masking tape and styrofoam (I mean this in a good way)--the different elements jammed against each other in the hope that it all somehow holds together. Hear that portentous orchestral drive? Oops, it stops on a dime for a quiet section suddenly sung by a female vocalist, which leads into a pretty section with a plaintive violin motif, which (oh no!) runs headfirst into a peremptory blast of spastic guitar. That kind of thing. Foma is sort of a band, and sort of not a band, anchored by Edward Burch and based in the happening musical town of Albuquerque, New Mexico. "Kurt's Theme" is a song from the quirky concept CD Phobos, recorded with seven musicians and released locally this spring on Little Kiss Records, an Albuquerque-based label. The release went nationwide earlier this month. The MP3 is available via the band's site.
"Second Best Death" - Maybe Smith
So we've heard the staticky, squeaky-clackety electronics before, we've seen the one-man, laptop-generated bedroom rock thing before, and let me first say that there's nothing wrong with having heard something before. So-called "innovation" is way overvalued in our 24/7 world; we all want the newest, while overlooking the fact that a far more important value than "new" is "good" and that they are not always the same. But then the lap steel guitar comes in and okay, I've got to hand it to Colin Skrapek, the Canadian here doing musical business as Maybe Smith: that's a new one. But (remember, this is more important) it's good, too. What's even better is the entire song, with its lovely melodies, touching harmonies, and subtle hints of Elvis Costello in his songwriting heyday--in word choice, vocal tone, and musical sturdiness alike. "Second Best Death" is the title track to a seven-song EP released earlier this year on his own, Saskatoon-based Sir, Handsome Records. The MP3 is available via the Sir, Handsome web site. Much obliged to Sixeyes for the lead.
Monday, June 19, 2006
THIS WEEK'S FINDS
week of June 18-24
"Colorguard" - Division Day
An insistent drive, accentuated first by a wash of reverberating synths and then a searing guitar line, gives "Colorguard" some good hard substance; at the same time there's a great warm softness at its core too, in the form of singer Rohner Stegnitz's dulcet tenor, and the beautiful repeating melody in the chorus. There's nothing too complicated going on here, but that's really part of the effectiveness of this song. What I like is how I can clearly hear its various parts--the subtle, affecting octave harmonies once the second verse starts, the clear contribution of the bass, the clean, stratospheric lead guitar lines. I'm thinking that a lot of times, this sort of song (whatever sort of song it is) and this sort of music (again, whatever you might call it) often gets harmed by a sort of "piling on" that goes on in the recording studio. Great structures of amorphous sounds are constructed, and it can be cool in its own way, but sometimes it's cool too to be able to hear everyone. The stronger the song, the more it's okay. Division Day is a quartet from California; "Colorguard" is a song off the band's debut full-length CD, Beartrap Island, self-released this spring. The MP3 is via the band's site.
"Harrowdown Hill" - Thom Yorke
I don't know if I've ever heard such a funky riff used at the core of such an un-funky song; this is not nearly the most significant thing going on, but it may be the easiest to notice; and it may be more significant than it at first seems. What Yorke is doing here is as mysterious as it is marvelous, combining disparate elements (funky guitar, programmed beats, sustained synthesizer, tense lyrics) into a completely cohesive and moving piece of music. (The song addresses a tragic, Iraq-related controversy in the U.K., involving a former UN weapons inspector who apparently killed himself--though some believe otherwise--after unintentionally finding himself in the middle of a political scandal.) In taking a much-publicized break from his day job as Radiohead's frontman, Yorke has, to my ears, redefined the idea of what a singer/songwriter--it feels weird to call him that but that's what he is here--can do. "Harrowdown Hill" has the beating (and aching) heart of a traditional, organic song, and yet is presented in an all-out, 21st-century sonic landscape. Two aspects of the song strike me as key to its haunting success: one is the synthesizer that plays an offbeat but continuous pattern of single notes sustained typically for seven or eight seconds at a time, in a muted yet majestic, organ-like tone; the other is Yorke's voice, which is rather naked and up front, draped with maybe a slight echo to fit in to the electronic vibe but also fragile and shakily human. "Harrowdown Hill" is a track from Yorke's highly-anticipated CD, The Eraser, to be released in July on XL Recordings. A word on this MP3: it's available via Ampcamp, a super-fine online CD store, part of their ongoing "MP3 du Jour" offerings. I am assuming two things: 1) that these songs are all very much legally offered, and 2) that Ampcamp fully expects us to find them and download them. If I find out otherwise, I'll have to remove the link, but in the meantime, here you are.
"Scene It All Before" - the Minor Leagues
Any band seeking to sound like "Ray Davies fronting the Clash with Phil Spector on production" (as per the web site) is going to get my attention quickly, and that is apparently what singer/keyboardist Ben Walpole has in mind for the Minor Leagues, give or take the quartet's own individual sense of do-it-yourself quirkiness. In any case, "Scene It All Before" is a breezy yet satisfyingly chewy morsel of pop goodness, from its nostalgic horn charts to its grand swinging chorus and its intermittently goofy background vocals. Like any number of great old Kinks songs, this one has three solid, well-put-together parts; I particularly like how the melody in the chorus spills over its expected container, blurring the distinction between measures in a loose-limbed and agreeable way. And I will say that Walpole does manage to sound eerily like a cross between Davies and Mick Jones--especially eerie for a guy from Cincinnati. "Scene It All Before" is a track off the CD The Pestlience is Coming, which was self-released last week. The MP3 is available via the band's site.
week of June 18-24
"Colorguard" - Division Day
An insistent drive, accentuated first by a wash of reverberating synths and then a searing guitar line, gives "Colorguard" some good hard substance; at the same time there's a great warm softness at its core too, in the form of singer Rohner Stegnitz's dulcet tenor, and the beautiful repeating melody in the chorus. There's nothing too complicated going on here, but that's really part of the effectiveness of this song. What I like is how I can clearly hear its various parts--the subtle, affecting octave harmonies once the second verse starts, the clear contribution of the bass, the clean, stratospheric lead guitar lines. I'm thinking that a lot of times, this sort of song (whatever sort of song it is) and this sort of music (again, whatever you might call it) often gets harmed by a sort of "piling on" that goes on in the recording studio. Great structures of amorphous sounds are constructed, and it can be cool in its own way, but sometimes it's cool too to be able to hear everyone. The stronger the song, the more it's okay. Division Day is a quartet from California; "Colorguard" is a song off the band's debut full-length CD, Beartrap Island, self-released this spring. The MP3 is via the band's site.
"Harrowdown Hill" - Thom Yorke
I don't know if I've ever heard such a funky riff used at the core of such an un-funky song; this is not nearly the most significant thing going on, but it may be the easiest to notice; and it may be more significant than it at first seems. What Yorke is doing here is as mysterious as it is marvelous, combining disparate elements (funky guitar, programmed beats, sustained synthesizer, tense lyrics) into a completely cohesive and moving piece of music. (The song addresses a tragic, Iraq-related controversy in the U.K., involving a former UN weapons inspector who apparently killed himself--though some believe otherwise--after unintentionally finding himself in the middle of a political scandal.) In taking a much-publicized break from his day job as Radiohead's frontman, Yorke has, to my ears, redefined the idea of what a singer/songwriter--it feels weird to call him that but that's what he is here--can do. "Harrowdown Hill" has the beating (and aching) heart of a traditional, organic song, and yet is presented in an all-out, 21st-century sonic landscape. Two aspects of the song strike me as key to its haunting success: one is the synthesizer that plays an offbeat but continuous pattern of single notes sustained typically for seven or eight seconds at a time, in a muted yet majestic, organ-like tone; the other is Yorke's voice, which is rather naked and up front, draped with maybe a slight echo to fit in to the electronic vibe but also fragile and shakily human. "Harrowdown Hill" is a track from Yorke's highly-anticipated CD, The Eraser, to be released in July on XL Recordings. A word on this MP3: it's available via Ampcamp, a super-fine online CD store, part of their ongoing "MP3 du Jour" offerings. I am assuming two things: 1) that these songs are all very much legally offered, and 2) that Ampcamp fully expects us to find them and download them. If I find out otherwise, I'll have to remove the link, but in the meantime, here you are.
"Scene It All Before" - the Minor Leagues
Any band seeking to sound like "Ray Davies fronting the Clash with Phil Spector on production" (as per the web site) is going to get my attention quickly, and that is apparently what singer/keyboardist Ben Walpole has in mind for the Minor Leagues, give or take the quartet's own individual sense of do-it-yourself quirkiness. In any case, "Scene It All Before" is a breezy yet satisfyingly chewy morsel of pop goodness, from its nostalgic horn charts to its grand swinging chorus and its intermittently goofy background vocals. Like any number of great old Kinks songs, this one has three solid, well-put-together parts; I particularly like how the melody in the chorus spills over its expected container, blurring the distinction between measures in a loose-limbed and agreeable way. And I will say that Walpole does manage to sound eerily like a cross between Davies and Mick Jones--especially eerie for a guy from Cincinnati. "Scene It All Before" is a track off the CD The Pestlience is Coming, which was self-released last week. The MP3 is available via the band's site.
Monday, June 12, 2006
THIS WEEK'S FINDS
week of June 11-17
"Throw My Weight" - Samsa
An extraordinarily satisfying three minutes of power-trio British indie pop. The guitar rings out and drives forward with nicely interesting chords, the drum cuts a powerful and more than a little complex beat, and singer Oli Deakin (also the guitarist) has an unexpected richness to his voice, singing with an intriguing blend of forcefulness and fragility. The thing, to me, that nails this one down as truly memorable is the great, double-hooked chorus: first, the catchy simplicity of the "I run for cover/From one to another" part, with its diving then rising thirds, sounding at this point like some lost pop classic; and then, the killer twist as the chords modulate through a really gratifying couple of shifts, ringing guitar sirening away over the top of it all. Samsa is from Leeds, in the U.K.; it's Oli's brother Jamie throwing down the engaging drumbeats, while the bassist, Harry Wood, is a non-brother. "Throw My Weight" can be found on the band's first EP, called "First, The Lights," which was self-released last summer. The EP sold out; all three songs are now available as free downloads on the band's site.
"For Money or Love" - the Like Young
I don't know how these married couples manage to play in a band together (there are a number of them out there at this point), never mind be the only members in the band, never mind make good music, never mind stay married. But here's the Chicago-based duo who call themselves the Like Young doing all that with what sounds like great good energy to spare. This short, stomach-rumbling rocker has an incisive appeal to my ears, having a lot to do with the sturdiness of the melody and singer Joe Ziemba's pitch-perfect rough-rocker voice. When wife Amanda joins in for one lead vocal line in the chorus, this too seems perfect. While the overall ambiance is "garage," there's something more sensitive in the air here, despite the visceral beat and short simplicity of the tune. "For Money or Love" is a song from the band's third full-length CD Last Secrets, which was released last month on Polyvinyl Records. The MP3 comes from the band's site.
"The Friday of Our Lives" - Audiotransparent
Slow-burning and deeply atmospheric, "The Friday of Our Lives" mixes actual instruments and fuzzy noise with impressive deftness. Portishead leaps to mind as a reference point, but this is one of the few times I've heard a band that reminds me of Portishead without simply sounding pretty much exactly like them (only not as good). The male lead singer in this case (one Bart Looman) creates an immediately different aural palatte; so does the lack of overtly trip-hoppy touches (no record scratches or obvious samples in the beats, for instance). With its muted (and subsequently unmuted) trumpet, soft keyboards, and brushed drums, "The Friday of Our Lives" manages to carry itself almost like a torch song even as the megaphoned vocals and dissonant bray of background guitar effectively and engagingly deconstructs the ambiance. Audiotransparent is a quintet from the Netherlands; this song has been sitting around in the listening pile for a few months, slowly growing on me. It comes from the CD Nevland, released in September 2005 on Living Room Records, a Dutch label. The MP3 is via the band's clean and attractive web site. Thanks to to Getecho for the head's up, way back when.
week of June 11-17
"Throw My Weight" - Samsa
An extraordinarily satisfying three minutes of power-trio British indie pop. The guitar rings out and drives forward with nicely interesting chords, the drum cuts a powerful and more than a little complex beat, and singer Oli Deakin (also the guitarist) has an unexpected richness to his voice, singing with an intriguing blend of forcefulness and fragility. The thing, to me, that nails this one down as truly memorable is the great, double-hooked chorus: first, the catchy simplicity of the "I run for cover/From one to another" part, with its diving then rising thirds, sounding at this point like some lost pop classic; and then, the killer twist as the chords modulate through a really gratifying couple of shifts, ringing guitar sirening away over the top of it all. Samsa is from Leeds, in the U.K.; it's Oli's brother Jamie throwing down the engaging drumbeats, while the bassist, Harry Wood, is a non-brother. "Throw My Weight" can be found on the band's first EP, called "First, The Lights," which was self-released last summer. The EP sold out; all three songs are now available as free downloads on the band's site.
"For Money or Love" - the Like Young
I don't know how these married couples manage to play in a band together (there are a number of them out there at this point), never mind be the only members in the band, never mind make good music, never mind stay married. But here's the Chicago-based duo who call themselves the Like Young doing all that with what sounds like great good energy to spare. This short, stomach-rumbling rocker has an incisive appeal to my ears, having a lot to do with the sturdiness of the melody and singer Joe Ziemba's pitch-perfect rough-rocker voice. When wife Amanda joins in for one lead vocal line in the chorus, this too seems perfect. While the overall ambiance is "garage," there's something more sensitive in the air here, despite the visceral beat and short simplicity of the tune. "For Money or Love" is a song from the band's third full-length CD Last Secrets, which was released last month on Polyvinyl Records. The MP3 comes from the band's site.
"The Friday of Our Lives" - Audiotransparent
Slow-burning and deeply atmospheric, "The Friday of Our Lives" mixes actual instruments and fuzzy noise with impressive deftness. Portishead leaps to mind as a reference point, but this is one of the few times I've heard a band that reminds me of Portishead without simply sounding pretty much exactly like them (only not as good). The male lead singer in this case (one Bart Looman) creates an immediately different aural palatte; so does the lack of overtly trip-hoppy touches (no record scratches or obvious samples in the beats, for instance). With its muted (and subsequently unmuted) trumpet, soft keyboards, and brushed drums, "The Friday of Our Lives" manages to carry itself almost like a torch song even as the megaphoned vocals and dissonant bray of background guitar effectively and engagingly deconstructs the ambiance. Audiotransparent is a quintet from the Netherlands; this song has been sitting around in the listening pile for a few months, slowly growing on me. It comes from the CD Nevland, released in September 2005 on Living Room Records, a Dutch label. The MP3 is via the band's clean and attractive web site. Thanks to to Getecho for the head's up, way back when.
Monday, June 05, 2006
THIS WEEK'S FINDS
week of June 4-10
"Benton Harbor Blues" - the Fiery Furnaces
A brother-sister band known for idiosyncratic experimentation here delivers a delightful piece of almost classic-sounding pop (copping the keyboard and/or bass riff from the Four Tops strikes me as a neat touch). The fact that the Furnaces have revealed the capacity to spin out something this traditionally appealing (even if it is a remix) changes everything, to me. It's just like knowing Picasso could draw beautifully when he wanted to; that he could and chose not to makes all the difference. In any case, everything else I've heard from the Fiery Furnaces (which I may go back and listen to again) has struck me as almost perversely odd (music critics like to call this "challenging"). But here they are, chugging to a keyboard-filled Motowny groove sounding both at home and still (if you listen closely) satisfyingly edgy. The drums have a pasted-on electronic itch to them that tells you this is more than a nostalgia trip, and singer Eleanor Friedberger's delicious, drip-dry delivery has no reason to sound so good in this context but boy does it. Don't miss the mini keyboard concert that arrives at around 1:56, which features both ghostly flourishes and an organ-like series of ascensions and descensions. "Benton Harbor Blues" is, from what I've read, pretty much of an anomaly on their latest CD, Bitter Tea, which was released in April on Fat Possum Records; the rest of the disc is apparently still odd, including the original version of this same song. The MP3 is available via the Fat Possum site.
"Anti-Anti" - Snowden
Hard-driving and precise, "Anti-Anti" displays some characteristics of what is too typically (and unfortunately) called "post-punk" (its own sort of "town that makes no sense"), but I like the sonic elements this Atlanta-based quartet brings to the sound, including maybe most of all that beat-breaking synth-like guitar line (or is it a guitar-like synthesizer?) heard first at the end of the intro, and later on as well. Okay, perhaps it seems like a small and potentially random touch, but as it resurfaces it becomes its own sort of left-field hook in the context of the fuzzy, slashing, quasi-funk on display. Singer Jordan Jeffares sounds at once breathless and blase--an unusual, even uneasy combination--and the lyrical snippets that smack you as they go by only add to the vague tension. "Anti-Anti" is the title track to the band's debut CD, scheduled for release in August on Jade Tree Records. The MP3 comes via the Jade Tree site.
"Death of the Party" - the Keene Brothers
Sounding like Michael Stipe's long-lost brother, Robert Pollard has out-R.E.M.'ed R.E.M. with this lovely but typically inscrutable song. Just go ahead and try to listen to and make sense of the lyrics, if you can even understand them. But no matter at all: when the smoothly jangly verse opens into the chorus, it's like being bathed by sunlight after a cool rain. Pollard, for the uninitiated, spent years as the prolific mastermind behind the Ohio-based proto-indie band, Guided By Voices. I couldn't make heads or tails of those guys most of the time; I was pretty sure that among the 30 or so tracks on each of their 900 albums were buried treasures I'd never have the fortitude to discover. Since GBV disbanded in 2004, Pollard has merely gotten more spread out, but no less prolific, and no more understandable. "Death of the Party" is a song from the album he recorded with the relentlessly unknown but highly regarded Tommy Keene under the name of the Keene Brothers, entitled Blues and Boogie Shoes; this is however merely one of three collaborative CDs Pollard is simultaneously releasing this month as part of something he calls the "Fading Captain" series. He's lost me logistically, but musically, for this one, I'm right on board--it's a beauty. The MP3 is hosted via the old Guided By Voices web site, which still operates. Inscrutably.
week of June 4-10
"Benton Harbor Blues" - the Fiery Furnaces
A brother-sister band known for idiosyncratic experimentation here delivers a delightful piece of almost classic-sounding pop (copping the keyboard and/or bass riff from the Four Tops strikes me as a neat touch). The fact that the Furnaces have revealed the capacity to spin out something this traditionally appealing (even if it is a remix) changes everything, to me. It's just like knowing Picasso could draw beautifully when he wanted to; that he could and chose not to makes all the difference. In any case, everything else I've heard from the Fiery Furnaces (which I may go back and listen to again) has struck me as almost perversely odd (music critics like to call this "challenging"). But here they are, chugging to a keyboard-filled Motowny groove sounding both at home and still (if you listen closely) satisfyingly edgy. The drums have a pasted-on electronic itch to them that tells you this is more than a nostalgia trip, and singer Eleanor Friedberger's delicious, drip-dry delivery has no reason to sound so good in this context but boy does it. Don't miss the mini keyboard concert that arrives at around 1:56, which features both ghostly flourishes and an organ-like series of ascensions and descensions. "Benton Harbor Blues" is, from what I've read, pretty much of an anomaly on their latest CD, Bitter Tea, which was released in April on Fat Possum Records; the rest of the disc is apparently still odd, including the original version of this same song. The MP3 is available via the Fat Possum site.
"Anti-Anti" - Snowden
Hard-driving and precise, "Anti-Anti" displays some characteristics of what is too typically (and unfortunately) called "post-punk" (its own sort of "town that makes no sense"), but I like the sonic elements this Atlanta-based quartet brings to the sound, including maybe most of all that beat-breaking synth-like guitar line (or is it a guitar-like synthesizer?) heard first at the end of the intro, and later on as well. Okay, perhaps it seems like a small and potentially random touch, but as it resurfaces it becomes its own sort of left-field hook in the context of the fuzzy, slashing, quasi-funk on display. Singer Jordan Jeffares sounds at once breathless and blase--an unusual, even uneasy combination--and the lyrical snippets that smack you as they go by only add to the vague tension. "Anti-Anti" is the title track to the band's debut CD, scheduled for release in August on Jade Tree Records. The MP3 comes via the Jade Tree site.
"Death of the Party" - the Keene Brothers
Sounding like Michael Stipe's long-lost brother, Robert Pollard has out-R.E.M.'ed R.E.M. with this lovely but typically inscrutable song. Just go ahead and try to listen to and make sense of the lyrics, if you can even understand them. But no matter at all: when the smoothly jangly verse opens into the chorus, it's like being bathed by sunlight after a cool rain. Pollard, for the uninitiated, spent years as the prolific mastermind behind the Ohio-based proto-indie band, Guided By Voices. I couldn't make heads or tails of those guys most of the time; I was pretty sure that among the 30 or so tracks on each of their 900 albums were buried treasures I'd never have the fortitude to discover. Since GBV disbanded in 2004, Pollard has merely gotten more spread out, but no less prolific, and no more understandable. "Death of the Party" is a song from the album he recorded with the relentlessly unknown but highly regarded Tommy Keene under the name of the Keene Brothers, entitled Blues and Boogie Shoes; this is however merely one of three collaborative CDs Pollard is simultaneously releasing this month as part of something he calls the "Fading Captain" series. He's lost me logistically, but musically, for this one, I'm right on board--it's a beauty. The MP3 is hosted via the old Guided By Voices web site, which still operates. Inscrutably.
Monday, May 22, 2006
THIS WEEK'S FINDS
week of May 21-27
In honor of Memorial Day here in the U.S., and honoring too a personal need to take some space and regroup a bit, there will be no weekly update next week (the week of May 28-June 3). The site will be up and running as of May 29 but I will use the week to tend to many things that need tending, taking the week off from the three-song update. The next "This Week's Finds" update will appear on Sunday, June 4. Be sure to keep visiting for other updates and news!
"Lovers Who Uncover" - the Little Ones
The introduction is all I need with this one: the ascending, slightly distorted ringing guitar doing that fast alternating one-two rhythm thing--well, just forget the description, I've already mutilated the pop beauty of it all. And, sure, it's simple stuff at its core, three adjacent notes, just me-fa-sol in disguise, but they ring out an eternal truth, and if you're a high-quality pop junkie you know transcendence when you hear it. So okay yeah then there's more to the song than the introduction of course, and the next thing I love to death are the vocals. I don't really know who's doing what, the Little Ones being an L.A. band that doesn't relinquish a lot of personal information, but whoever is singing has that keening high-register voice that sounds full of substance, like a lower voice, rather than airy and irresolute, like many falsettos do. And what, class, is the most unusual thing going on in this shiny happy little number? There's no chorus to speak of. Go figure: power pop with a killer verse, not a killer chorus. Who'd have thought? "Lovers Who Uncover" is a song from the band's self-released debut EP; the MP3 is available via the band's site. Thanks to Bruce at Some Velvet Blog for the lead.
"With My Eyes" - Our Lady of Bells
Another great intro, this one beginning with an acoustic guitar picking out alternately major and minor chords in three-quarter time, soon to be joined by what sounds like both an electric guitar and a bass, each plucking incomplete phrases in musical proximity, setting a subtly tense stage for a really nice lead guitar line, chiming out its syncopated theme with bittersweet majesty. Guitarist and songwriter Jules Gimbrone sings with an air of regret and entirely without pretense, letting the strength of the timeless, sea-charged melody pull us along, rough spots in her singing voice be damned. Her singing is but a part of an air of unpolishedness that hard-nosed lo-fi folks may actually see as a positive; I tend not to in general, but the material is compelling enough to keep me with it--the song acquires a weary and quite beautiful momentum as it rolls along. I suspect the group has much to offer moving forward. Based in Northampton, Massachusetts, Our Lady of Bells began in 2004 as a duo and has added three members along the way. "With My Eyes" can be found on the band's first full-length CD, Forgetting the Way Home, released earlier this month. The MP3 is via the band's site.
"Mountain" - 1888
So it's cool introduction week, it seems. Check this one out: all beats and twitches, but as I listen it manages to sound, somehow, like electronica done by hand, with organic instruments. (It may not be, but the itchy, clicky vibe has a particularly hand-hewn quality.) We are thereby led into a song that presents, to my ears, one of the most intriguing uses I've heard of electronica-style beats and/or samples in a song that really doesn't sound like electronica at all. On top of a precise blend of well-placed tweets and twiddles and buzzings is crafted something else entirely, although I'm not exactly sure what this something else is. The ultimate impression is the kind of sonic deconstruction that brings Wilco to mind, even though this doesn't really sound much like Wilco either. Check out that lugubrious organ coloring the deep end; and as for singer/songwriter Brad Rosenberg, there's nothing remotely techno about him--he sounds like a guy from a rock band who doesn't understand something that happened to him (like many guys in rock bands). Hailing from Norfolk, Virginia, 1888 was almost a collective rather than a band in its early days (late '90s), with a rotating series of players coming and going as required, as the spirit moved, to record in the studio. Solidifying as a quartet to hit the road as a live act, the band now plans to release its first full-length CD later this year; "Mountain" is originally from an EP released in 2003 called Panda. The MP3 is up on the band's site.
week of May 21-27
In honor of Memorial Day here in the U.S., and honoring too a personal need to take some space and regroup a bit, there will be no weekly update next week (the week of May 28-June 3). The site will be up and running as of May 29 but I will use the week to tend to many things that need tending, taking the week off from the three-song update. The next "This Week's Finds" update will appear on Sunday, June 4. Be sure to keep visiting for other updates and news!
"Lovers Who Uncover" - the Little Ones
The introduction is all I need with this one: the ascending, slightly distorted ringing guitar doing that fast alternating one-two rhythm thing--well, just forget the description, I've already mutilated the pop beauty of it all. And, sure, it's simple stuff at its core, three adjacent notes, just me-fa-sol in disguise, but they ring out an eternal truth, and if you're a high-quality pop junkie you know transcendence when you hear it. So okay yeah then there's more to the song than the introduction of course, and the next thing I love to death are the vocals. I don't really know who's doing what, the Little Ones being an L.A. band that doesn't relinquish a lot of personal information, but whoever is singing has that keening high-register voice that sounds full of substance, like a lower voice, rather than airy and irresolute, like many falsettos do. And what, class, is the most unusual thing going on in this shiny happy little number? There's no chorus to speak of. Go figure: power pop with a killer verse, not a killer chorus. Who'd have thought? "Lovers Who Uncover" is a song from the band's self-released debut EP; the MP3 is available via the band's site. Thanks to Bruce at Some Velvet Blog for the lead.
"With My Eyes" - Our Lady of Bells
Another great intro, this one beginning with an acoustic guitar picking out alternately major and minor chords in three-quarter time, soon to be joined by what sounds like both an electric guitar and a bass, each plucking incomplete phrases in musical proximity, setting a subtly tense stage for a really nice lead guitar line, chiming out its syncopated theme with bittersweet majesty. Guitarist and songwriter Jules Gimbrone sings with an air of regret and entirely without pretense, letting the strength of the timeless, sea-charged melody pull us along, rough spots in her singing voice be damned. Her singing is but a part of an air of unpolishedness that hard-nosed lo-fi folks may actually see as a positive; I tend not to in general, but the material is compelling enough to keep me with it--the song acquires a weary and quite beautiful momentum as it rolls along. I suspect the group has much to offer moving forward. Based in Northampton, Massachusetts, Our Lady of Bells began in 2004 as a duo and has added three members along the way. "With My Eyes" can be found on the band's first full-length CD, Forgetting the Way Home, released earlier this month. The MP3 is via the band's site.
"Mountain" - 1888
So it's cool introduction week, it seems. Check this one out: all beats and twitches, but as I listen it manages to sound, somehow, like electronica done by hand, with organic instruments. (It may not be, but the itchy, clicky vibe has a particularly hand-hewn quality.) We are thereby led into a song that presents, to my ears, one of the most intriguing uses I've heard of electronica-style beats and/or samples in a song that really doesn't sound like electronica at all. On top of a precise blend of well-placed tweets and twiddles and buzzings is crafted something else entirely, although I'm not exactly sure what this something else is. The ultimate impression is the kind of sonic deconstruction that brings Wilco to mind, even though this doesn't really sound much like Wilco either. Check out that lugubrious organ coloring the deep end; and as for singer/songwriter Brad Rosenberg, there's nothing remotely techno about him--he sounds like a guy from a rock band who doesn't understand something that happened to him (like many guys in rock bands). Hailing from Norfolk, Virginia, 1888 was almost a collective rather than a band in its early days (late '90s), with a rotating series of players coming and going as required, as the spirit moved, to record in the studio. Solidifying as a quartet to hit the road as a live act, the band now plans to release its first full-length CD later this year; "Mountain" is originally from an EP released in 2003 called Panda. The MP3 is up on the band's site.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
THIS WEEK'S FINDS
week of May 14-20
"The Gate" - Sam Roberts Band
There's something expansively old-fashioned about the Sam Roberts Band--five scruffy Canadian guys with long hair and any number of beards, they seem to be doing rock'n'roll like it used to be done (this is not a jam band, thank you very much), without sounding quite exactly like any classic rock outfit you can put your finger on. "The Gate" opens slowly, building from an organ sustain, a psychedelic bass line, and a glistening guitar that approaches steadily with spidery noodlings. Around 1:10 it bangs into place, driving forward with a late-'60s/early'-70s vibe; Roberts himself has something of David Gilmour's haunting vocal depth, lending a Floyd-like oomph to the semi-Steve Miller-y proceedings (listen especially to the vocals in the quiet bridge section that starts at around 3:12). "The Gate" is the lead track from the band's new CD, Chemical City, being released in the U.S. this week under the Secret Brain/Fontana imprint, which I can't figure out at all. The MP3 is available via Filter Magazine.
"Malherido" - Juana Molina
The wondrously subtle, subtly magical Molina was one of the very first artists featured on Fingertips back in 2003; arrival of new music from this acclaimed Argentinian is big news here. I think you have to slow down a bit to sink into her soundscapes; throw too many things in the multi-task pile while you're listening and the song--all rubbery synths, skittery boops, whispery vocals, and stray animal noises--might not register at all. The breathy but sturdy character in her voice is one hand-hold into her world: she sounds rather scarily like two of my top five all-time female singers put together (that'd be Jane Siberry and Kirsty MacColl), and there's a whole lot in the musical if not vocal vibe that reminds me of another (Björk). "Malherido" is a song from Molina's upcoming CD, her third; it's called Son (in Spanish: "They Are") and will be released in early June on Domino Records. The MP3 comes via the Domino web site.
"Too Much Space To Walk Away" - Avocadoclub
As smooth, catchy, and vaguely disaffected as an old Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark single. This has all the earmarks of a great floaty synth-pop hit but the really cool thing is they're not really using a heck of a lot of synthesizers; the acoustic guitars are actually more prominent. Most of the effect, I think, is coming from the layered majesty of Bendrik Muhs' vocals, and the use of a New Order-style lower-register lead guitar line. Muhs has the ability to sound both pretty and weary, like Ben Gibbard doing a Lou Reed impression; his aching delivery of the sweeping chorus is big-time pop heaven. Avocadoclub is an English-language band from Berlin; there appear to be two guys at the heart of it, but they've fleshed out into a five-piece band for the debut CD. "Too Much Space to Walk Away" was the title track on the band's second EP, released in 2002; it has shown up as well on the debut full-length, entitled Everybody's Wrong, which was released in March on Firestation Records. Thanks much, yet again, to Getecho for the lead.
week of May 14-20
"The Gate" - Sam Roberts Band
There's something expansively old-fashioned about the Sam Roberts Band--five scruffy Canadian guys with long hair and any number of beards, they seem to be doing rock'n'roll like it used to be done (this is not a jam band, thank you very much), without sounding quite exactly like any classic rock outfit you can put your finger on. "The Gate" opens slowly, building from an organ sustain, a psychedelic bass line, and a glistening guitar that approaches steadily with spidery noodlings. Around 1:10 it bangs into place, driving forward with a late-'60s/early'-70s vibe; Roberts himself has something of David Gilmour's haunting vocal depth, lending a Floyd-like oomph to the semi-Steve Miller-y proceedings (listen especially to the vocals in the quiet bridge section that starts at around 3:12). "The Gate" is the lead track from the band's new CD, Chemical City, being released in the U.S. this week under the Secret Brain/Fontana imprint, which I can't figure out at all. The MP3 is available via Filter Magazine.
"Malherido" - Juana Molina
The wondrously subtle, subtly magical Molina was one of the very first artists featured on Fingertips back in 2003; arrival of new music from this acclaimed Argentinian is big news here. I think you have to slow down a bit to sink into her soundscapes; throw too many things in the multi-task pile while you're listening and the song--all rubbery synths, skittery boops, whispery vocals, and stray animal noises--might not register at all. The breathy but sturdy character in her voice is one hand-hold into her world: she sounds rather scarily like two of my top five all-time female singers put together (that'd be Jane Siberry and Kirsty MacColl), and there's a whole lot in the musical if not vocal vibe that reminds me of another (Björk). "Malherido" is a song from Molina's upcoming CD, her third; it's called Son (in Spanish: "They Are") and will be released in early June on Domino Records. The MP3 comes via the Domino web site.
"Too Much Space To Walk Away" - Avocadoclub
As smooth, catchy, and vaguely disaffected as an old Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark single. This has all the earmarks of a great floaty synth-pop hit but the really cool thing is they're not really using a heck of a lot of synthesizers; the acoustic guitars are actually more prominent. Most of the effect, I think, is coming from the layered majesty of Bendrik Muhs' vocals, and the use of a New Order-style lower-register lead guitar line. Muhs has the ability to sound both pretty and weary, like Ben Gibbard doing a Lou Reed impression; his aching delivery of the sweeping chorus is big-time pop heaven. Avocadoclub is an English-language band from Berlin; there appear to be two guys at the heart of it, but they've fleshed out into a five-piece band for the debut CD. "Too Much Space to Walk Away" was the title track on the band's second EP, released in 2002; it has shown up as well on the debut full-length, entitled Everybody's Wrong, which was released in March on Firestation Records. Thanks much, yet again, to Getecho for the lead.
Monday, May 08, 2006
THIS WEEK'S FINDS
week of May 7-13
"Thursday" - Asobi Seksu
Gorgeous gorgeous high-volume rock'n'roll--play it loud and feel your heart burst with pleasure and wonder. Yeah it's pretty much that good (and be sure to go back after you're done and re-listen to the quiet beginning; it's there for a reason). While this talented NYC quartet owes some of its sonic foundation to Blondie's indelible, pioneering sound, Asobi Seksu seem at the same time to have found something deep and moving within a place Debby Harry and company sought, mostly, irony and distance (not that there was anything wrong with that!). Lead vocalist Yuki sings with warmth and a sneaky range, moving seamlessly into a yearning, substantive falsetto for that great major-to-minor melody shift in the chorus. Her able bandmates both mirror and amplify her dynamic range--together, they're not just loud, not just soft, not just pretty, not just noisy, but instead create a thoroughly engaging and skillful blend of different sounds, textures, and ideas. And while we may all yet get tired of the reverb-laced sound characterizing a lot of the best rock'n'roll of our new century, right now it keeps seeming to work, in this case contributing to a wash of heavenly sound out of which unfolds a gem that feels at once very familiar and, in its own way, pioneering. "Thursday" is a track from the band's long-awaited (by me, at least!) second CD, Citrus, scheduled for release at the end of the month on Friendly Fire Recordings. The MP3 is available via Insound.
"So I" - Tobias Fröberg
While "Simon & Garfunkel meets Ron Sexsmith" might be a fast and reasonably valid way of summing up this song, I hesitate to offer it because I have heard a few too many bands or singer/songwriters over the past few years who have prompted comparisons to Simon & Garfunkel, typically based on the presence of delicate acoustic guitar picking and whispery harmonies. Too often however these musicians lack a crucial part of the S&G sound, which is (easier said than done, I know!) having memorable songs. To compare anyone to Simon & Garfunkel (or Ron Sexsmith, for that matter) who is singing a well-intentioned but (let's be honest) boring song renders the comparison pretty much pointless. No worries here, however, as Fröberg manages first of all to be singing a memorable song--courtesy of its simple but appealing double-descending melody and a gratifying amount of subtle movement. I like too that Fröberg and collaborator Linus Larsson add some cool stuff of their own, like the forthright electric guitar used throughout as a sort of color commentator to the underlying drive of the acoustic picking. "So I" is a song from Fröberg's CD For Elisabeth Wherever She Is (note S&G-related title!), released on Silence Records in Sweden late in 2004, and a winner of a national award for best singer/songwriter album in 2005. A new CD entitled Somewhere in the City will be released shortly in Scandanavia; apparently he has just been signed to Cheap Lullaby Records in the U.S., so we'll see if that increases his profile here a bit as the year unfolds. Thanks to Hedvika at the recently renamed Getecho blog for the lead.
"Adventure" - Be Your Own Pet
Channeling Bow Wow Wow with great, vibrant, new-century spirit comes a group of teenagers from Nashville with the kind of glorious, in-the-moment song that proves absolutely nothing about their long-term talent or viability, nor should it. (Bow Wow Wow's Annabella Lwin was herself 14 when that band broke; she's 40 now, which is weird, but I digress.) Singer Jemina (yeah, -na) Pearl sings with the same sort of un-self-conscious abandon as Lwin back in the day, and apparently this song is reasonably tame for her. Not sure I'll care much for the wilder, unrepressed punk-ish side of what these guys do, but in this case (am I repeating myself yet?) I'm hearing a really strong song underneath the okay-I-can-scream-and-curse bravado--an unexpectedly full and satisfying less-than-two-and-a-half-minute tornado of rhythmic hooks and gleefully slashing guitars. Beware, by the way, the dark energy of the hype/backlash cycle when it comes to Be Your Own Pet, which seems already to have swirled around and back if you spend too much time in the blogosphere (hint: don't spend too much time in the blogosphere!); some part of their story has something to do with parents in the music industry, but me I just try as usual to listen with my ears, and my ears say: "Hey! Kinda cool!" Or they would if they had a mouth. "Adventure" is a song from the band's self-titled debut CD, which was released in the U.K. in March on XL Recordings and is due out early next month in the U.S. on Universal (note the big record company, which certainly has something to do with the fury of the aforementioned hype/backlash cycle).
week of May 7-13
"Thursday" - Asobi Seksu
Gorgeous gorgeous high-volume rock'n'roll--play it loud and feel your heart burst with pleasure and wonder. Yeah it's pretty much that good (and be sure to go back after you're done and re-listen to the quiet beginning; it's there for a reason). While this talented NYC quartet owes some of its sonic foundation to Blondie's indelible, pioneering sound, Asobi Seksu seem at the same time to have found something deep and moving within a place Debby Harry and company sought, mostly, irony and distance (not that there was anything wrong with that!). Lead vocalist Yuki sings with warmth and a sneaky range, moving seamlessly into a yearning, substantive falsetto for that great major-to-minor melody shift in the chorus. Her able bandmates both mirror and amplify her dynamic range--together, they're not just loud, not just soft, not just pretty, not just noisy, but instead create a thoroughly engaging and skillful blend of different sounds, textures, and ideas. And while we may all yet get tired of the reverb-laced sound characterizing a lot of the best rock'n'roll of our new century, right now it keeps seeming to work, in this case contributing to a wash of heavenly sound out of which unfolds a gem that feels at once very familiar and, in its own way, pioneering. "Thursday" is a track from the band's long-awaited (by me, at least!) second CD, Citrus, scheduled for release at the end of the month on Friendly Fire Recordings. The MP3 is available via Insound.
"So I" - Tobias Fröberg
While "Simon & Garfunkel meets Ron Sexsmith" might be a fast and reasonably valid way of summing up this song, I hesitate to offer it because I have heard a few too many bands or singer/songwriters over the past few years who have prompted comparisons to Simon & Garfunkel, typically based on the presence of delicate acoustic guitar picking and whispery harmonies. Too often however these musicians lack a crucial part of the S&G sound, which is (easier said than done, I know!) having memorable songs. To compare anyone to Simon & Garfunkel (or Ron Sexsmith, for that matter) who is singing a well-intentioned but (let's be honest) boring song renders the comparison pretty much pointless. No worries here, however, as Fröberg manages first of all to be singing a memorable song--courtesy of its simple but appealing double-descending melody and a gratifying amount of subtle movement. I like too that Fröberg and collaborator Linus Larsson add some cool stuff of their own, like the forthright electric guitar used throughout as a sort of color commentator to the underlying drive of the acoustic picking. "So I" is a song from Fröberg's CD For Elisabeth Wherever She Is (note S&G-related title!), released on Silence Records in Sweden late in 2004, and a winner of a national award for best singer/songwriter album in 2005. A new CD entitled Somewhere in the City will be released shortly in Scandanavia; apparently he has just been signed to Cheap Lullaby Records in the U.S., so we'll see if that increases his profile here a bit as the year unfolds. Thanks to Hedvika at the recently renamed Getecho blog for the lead.
"Adventure" - Be Your Own Pet
Channeling Bow Wow Wow with great, vibrant, new-century spirit comes a group of teenagers from Nashville with the kind of glorious, in-the-moment song that proves absolutely nothing about their long-term talent or viability, nor should it. (Bow Wow Wow's Annabella Lwin was herself 14 when that band broke; she's 40 now, which is weird, but I digress.) Singer Jemina (yeah, -na) Pearl sings with the same sort of un-self-conscious abandon as Lwin back in the day, and apparently this song is reasonably tame for her. Not sure I'll care much for the wilder, unrepressed punk-ish side of what these guys do, but in this case (am I repeating myself yet?) I'm hearing a really strong song underneath the okay-I-can-scream-and-curse bravado--an unexpectedly full and satisfying less-than-two-and-a-half-minute tornado of rhythmic hooks and gleefully slashing guitars. Beware, by the way, the dark energy of the hype/backlash cycle when it comes to Be Your Own Pet, which seems already to have swirled around and back if you spend too much time in the blogosphere (hint: don't spend too much time in the blogosphere!); some part of their story has something to do with parents in the music industry, but me I just try as usual to listen with my ears, and my ears say: "Hey! Kinda cool!" Or they would if they had a mouth. "Adventure" is a song from the band's self-titled debut CD, which was released in the U.K. in March on XL Recordings and is due out early next month in the U.S. on Universal (note the big record company, which certainly has something to do with the fury of the aforementioned hype/backlash cycle).
Monday, May 01, 2006
THIS WEEK'S FINDS
week of Apr. 30-May 6
"Stay" - Marykate O'Neil
There have been at least four excellent songs with the same one-word title in modern pop history (I'm partial to Bowie's, and the Blue Nile's); it takes a bit of nervy self-assurance to offer up yet another, but as I listen to O'Neil's voice, its rich tone equal parts passion and nonchalance, I'm thinking that here's a singer/songwriter not lacking in nervy self-assurance. (I mean that as a compliment, by the way.) And why not another "Stay"?--the word, come to think of it, is one of the English language's more emotionally resonant verbs, a four-letter subtext festival laden with implied connection, desire, and conflict. In any case, O'Neil's "Stay" has the crisp, instantly likable propulsiveness of a classic pop hit, its sparkly, syncopated rhythm ably accented by a jangly guitar and, later on, an almost demonic violin. There's something in the slightly nasally roundness of her voice that brings Aimee Mann to mind, which isn't a bad thing; an even better thing is that the song has more open-hearted spirit than a lot of Mann's able but same-sounding output has managed in recent years. "Stay" can be found on O'Neil's new CD, 1-800-Bankruptcy, which will be released electronically tomorrow on Nettwerk Records, and physically on O'Neil's own 71 Recordings imprint. The MP3 is available via O'Neil's web site.
"Book of Matches" - A Passing Feeling
As the original punk era ricocheted into the original new wave era, this was the sort of song that was in the air: a short, triumphant bit of sweat and booze and bluster. My heart will ever have a big sloppy soft spot for songs with two separate hooks; that this NYC-based foursome delivers two great hooks in a song not even two and a half minutes long is all but insane. The first hook, 18 seconds in, starting with the words "So in taking you back to the scene of the crime," has something of the unbridled melodicism of early Elvis Costello, fully utilizing all seven notes of the scale in a delightful four-measure outburst. (Think in contrast to how many pop hits of recent decades employ often as few as three or four discrete notes in their hooks, if you can call them hooks.) On the heels of hook number one, singer Brian Miltenberg spits out the second hook in the glorious chorus, which is, rather delightfully, a throwback melody straight from the '50s, but sped up and thrashed through, as if the Ramones had attacked doo-wop instead of the Brill Building with their black-leather buzzsaw. For all of this song's brevity there's something monumental brewing in its sonic onslaught; I sure hope someone somewhere is blaring this out a dorm window on a blue, flowery day this spring. "Book of Matches" is one of five songs on A Passing Feeling's self-titled debut EP, released back in December on 75 or Less Records. The MP3 is courtesy of the band's site.
"Let's Get Out of This Country" - Camera Obscura
While new bands are always a kick to discover, there's something to be said for not-new-anymore bands as well. The Scottish sextet Camera Obscura has been around since 1996, and there's nothing like a history together to give a band's sound genuine weight and substance. "Let's Get Out of This Country" wraps its arms around me with a winning combination of spaciousness and intimacy--the sound is ever so large, with those bashing drumbeats and sweeping waves of strings, all bathed in glossy reverb, and yet listen to how each melodic line ends with that introspective descending third, and listen too to the soft pretty ache in Tracyanne Campbell's lilting voice. She sounds like someone spinning gently in her room, humming to herself. Often the swelling strings compete with her words--you know she's there but aren't quite privvy to what she's saying. Then, at a point when we might expect a bridge (from about 1:35 to 1:50), the music pulls back and we hear Campbell singing more or less alone against the drumbeat; the effect is particularly magical and melancholy. "Let's Get Out of This Country" is the title track of the band's forthcoming CD, due out in June on Merge Records.
week of Apr. 30-May 6
"Stay" - Marykate O'Neil
There have been at least four excellent songs with the same one-word title in modern pop history (I'm partial to Bowie's, and the Blue Nile's); it takes a bit of nervy self-assurance to offer up yet another, but as I listen to O'Neil's voice, its rich tone equal parts passion and nonchalance, I'm thinking that here's a singer/songwriter not lacking in nervy self-assurance. (I mean that as a compliment, by the way.) And why not another "Stay"?--the word, come to think of it, is one of the English language's more emotionally resonant verbs, a four-letter subtext festival laden with implied connection, desire, and conflict. In any case, O'Neil's "Stay" has the crisp, instantly likable propulsiveness of a classic pop hit, its sparkly, syncopated rhythm ably accented by a jangly guitar and, later on, an almost demonic violin. There's something in the slightly nasally roundness of her voice that brings Aimee Mann to mind, which isn't a bad thing; an even better thing is that the song has more open-hearted spirit than a lot of Mann's able but same-sounding output has managed in recent years. "Stay" can be found on O'Neil's new CD, 1-800-Bankruptcy, which will be released electronically tomorrow on Nettwerk Records, and physically on O'Neil's own 71 Recordings imprint. The MP3 is available via O'Neil's web site.
"Book of Matches" - A Passing Feeling
As the original punk era ricocheted into the original new wave era, this was the sort of song that was in the air: a short, triumphant bit of sweat and booze and bluster. My heart will ever have a big sloppy soft spot for songs with two separate hooks; that this NYC-based foursome delivers two great hooks in a song not even two and a half minutes long is all but insane. The first hook, 18 seconds in, starting with the words "So in taking you back to the scene of the crime," has something of the unbridled melodicism of early Elvis Costello, fully utilizing all seven notes of the scale in a delightful four-measure outburst. (Think in contrast to how many pop hits of recent decades employ often as few as three or four discrete notes in their hooks, if you can call them hooks.) On the heels of hook number one, singer Brian Miltenberg spits out the second hook in the glorious chorus, which is, rather delightfully, a throwback melody straight from the '50s, but sped up and thrashed through, as if the Ramones had attacked doo-wop instead of the Brill Building with their black-leather buzzsaw. For all of this song's brevity there's something monumental brewing in its sonic onslaught; I sure hope someone somewhere is blaring this out a dorm window on a blue, flowery day this spring. "Book of Matches" is one of five songs on A Passing Feeling's self-titled debut EP, released back in December on 75 or Less Records. The MP3 is courtesy of the band's site.
"Let's Get Out of This Country" - Camera Obscura
While new bands are always a kick to discover, there's something to be said for not-new-anymore bands as well. The Scottish sextet Camera Obscura has been around since 1996, and there's nothing like a history together to give a band's sound genuine weight and substance. "Let's Get Out of This Country" wraps its arms around me with a winning combination of spaciousness and intimacy--the sound is ever so large, with those bashing drumbeats and sweeping waves of strings, all bathed in glossy reverb, and yet listen to how each melodic line ends with that introspective descending third, and listen too to the soft pretty ache in Tracyanne Campbell's lilting voice. She sounds like someone spinning gently in her room, humming to herself. Often the swelling strings compete with her words--you know she's there but aren't quite privvy to what she's saying. Then, at a point when we might expect a bridge (from about 1:35 to 1:50), the music pulls back and we hear Campbell singing more or less alone against the drumbeat; the effect is particularly magical and melancholy. "Let's Get Out of This Country" is the title track of the band's forthcoming CD, due out in June on Merge Records.
Monday, April 24, 2006
THIS WEEK'S FINDS
week of Apr. 23-29
"To No One" - Daylight's for the Birds
Lush, swirly, airy noise in service to melody--call it shoegaze if we must (must we??), but I'd much rather dig into the sound than attach that odd (if apparently indelible) label to a sonic reality this deep and rich. The aural palette favored by this NYC-based quartet lends an immediate tension to the amorphous introduction, as two predominant sounds emerge, vibrate, and grow through the first drum-free, beat-free 45 seconds--one sounding like a synth-enhanced guitar, metallic and pulsing, the other a choral wash of keyboard. Listen carefully for two things arising from that: a submerged melody line by something that sounds like a faraway organ, and a flute-like synthesizer sound that flutters into being from the noise and eventually takes up the melody begun by the "organ." I really like this flute-y thing, which seems so unexpected and yet weaves so organically into the ongoing texture (the storied "no lead guitar" sound characteristic of whatever we want to call this genre). The way the drummer drums skippingly around the beat through the verse is another indelible part of the airy soundscape, along with singer Amanda Garrett's surprisingly strong voice: in lieu of the wispier vocal stylings often heard in this environment, Garrett sings with pop-like heft and character, even when she's mixed back into the whorl of it all. Daylight's for the Birds is a NYC-based quartet that features, among others, Phillip Wann, formerly of On!Air!Library! (which disbanded last year). The MP3 is available via the Deli, a fine online publication about the NYC rock scene. (The MP3 is also up on the band's MySpace page, but Fingertips at this point will not to link to MySpace downloads because they cause too many problems for too many visitors.)
"Firecracker" - the Hot IQs
Without frills or warmup, a stark, meaty guitar lashes out one of music's most compelling progressions: a major chord alternating with the minor chord one-half step down. Laurie Anderson famously wrote a long, strange, avant-garde pop song ("O Superman") that featured only this progression and nothing else; the contemporary composer John Adams has displayed his own recurring fascination with this simple, resonant interval. Pretensions to great art aside, these two simple chords sound just fine, thank you, when churned out by an actual rock band; the fact that the Denver-based Hot IQs are even a power trio (guitar, bass, drums) seems even more fitting. Let the minimalists seek meaning in inexorable repetition; me I'm happy that the song discovers a few other chords (I particularly like the Nirvana-ish progressions in the bridge, beginning around 1:35) and some incisive melodies as well. Singer/guitarist Eli Mishkin has a pleasing semi-nasal voice that rounds out nicely in its lower register, while drummer Elaine Acosta, refreshingly uninterested in pounding us into submission, has a marvelous way of letting the slashing guitar inhabit the bottom of the sound. As for bass player Bryan Feuchtinger, well, I don't have much to say, but I didn't want to leave him out. "Firecracker" comes from the Hot IQs' debut CD, An Argument Between the Brain and Feet, which was released on a small Denver label late in 2004, and given a national digital re-release last week on SpinArt Records.
"Springtime Can Kill You" - Jolie Holland
Rather than killing you I believe that spring is the perfect time of year for, among other things, a song this ripe and unhinged. Sounding like a lounge-based, accent-free Björk, Holland skates, slides, and flutters through the tune, all but deconstructing its wonderful melody--and making it all the Tom Waits-ishly more wonderful in the process. Holland by the way is actually making the opposite point her title implies, itself a neat songwriting trick: "If you don't go get what you need/Something's going to break on the inside"; springtime kills the part of you that needs to be killed, in other words; in other words, the blossoms and colors and scents and breezes force you to be as alive as you actually are all the time without realizing it, or at least try. The song, the title track on her new CD (released last week on Anti Records) features an upright bass, baritone horn, and Holland's fun-house whistle, and it's all crazy perfect. The MP3 is available via the Anti web site. "So get out get out of your house," she purrs. So saying, I will.
week of Apr. 23-29
"To No One" - Daylight's for the Birds
Lush, swirly, airy noise in service to melody--call it shoegaze if we must (must we??), but I'd much rather dig into the sound than attach that odd (if apparently indelible) label to a sonic reality this deep and rich. The aural palette favored by this NYC-based quartet lends an immediate tension to the amorphous introduction, as two predominant sounds emerge, vibrate, and grow through the first drum-free, beat-free 45 seconds--one sounding like a synth-enhanced guitar, metallic and pulsing, the other a choral wash of keyboard. Listen carefully for two things arising from that: a submerged melody line by something that sounds like a faraway organ, and a flute-like synthesizer sound that flutters into being from the noise and eventually takes up the melody begun by the "organ." I really like this flute-y thing, which seems so unexpected and yet weaves so organically into the ongoing texture (the storied "no lead guitar" sound characteristic of whatever we want to call this genre). The way the drummer drums skippingly around the beat through the verse is another indelible part of the airy soundscape, along with singer Amanda Garrett's surprisingly strong voice: in lieu of the wispier vocal stylings often heard in this environment, Garrett sings with pop-like heft and character, even when she's mixed back into the whorl of it all. Daylight's for the Birds is a NYC-based quartet that features, among others, Phillip Wann, formerly of On!Air!Library! (which disbanded last year). The MP3 is available via the Deli, a fine online publication about the NYC rock scene. (The MP3 is also up on the band's MySpace page, but Fingertips at this point will not to link to MySpace downloads because they cause too many problems for too many visitors.)
"Firecracker" - the Hot IQs
Without frills or warmup, a stark, meaty guitar lashes out one of music's most compelling progressions: a major chord alternating with the minor chord one-half step down. Laurie Anderson famously wrote a long, strange, avant-garde pop song ("O Superman") that featured only this progression and nothing else; the contemporary composer John Adams has displayed his own recurring fascination with this simple, resonant interval. Pretensions to great art aside, these two simple chords sound just fine, thank you, when churned out by an actual rock band; the fact that the Denver-based Hot IQs are even a power trio (guitar, bass, drums) seems even more fitting. Let the minimalists seek meaning in inexorable repetition; me I'm happy that the song discovers a few other chords (I particularly like the Nirvana-ish progressions in the bridge, beginning around 1:35) and some incisive melodies as well. Singer/guitarist Eli Mishkin has a pleasing semi-nasal voice that rounds out nicely in its lower register, while drummer Elaine Acosta, refreshingly uninterested in pounding us into submission, has a marvelous way of letting the slashing guitar inhabit the bottom of the sound. As for bass player Bryan Feuchtinger, well, I don't have much to say, but I didn't want to leave him out. "Firecracker" comes from the Hot IQs' debut CD, An Argument Between the Brain and Feet, which was released on a small Denver label late in 2004, and given a national digital re-release last week on SpinArt Records.
"Springtime Can Kill You" - Jolie Holland
Rather than killing you I believe that spring is the perfect time of year for, among other things, a song this ripe and unhinged. Sounding like a lounge-based, accent-free Björk, Holland skates, slides, and flutters through the tune, all but deconstructing its wonderful melody--and making it all the Tom Waits-ishly more wonderful in the process. Holland by the way is actually making the opposite point her title implies, itself a neat songwriting trick: "If you don't go get what you need/Something's going to break on the inside"; springtime kills the part of you that needs to be killed, in other words; in other words, the blossoms and colors and scents and breezes force you to be as alive as you actually are all the time without realizing it, or at least try. The song, the title track on her new CD (released last week on Anti Records) features an upright bass, baritone horn, and Holland's fun-house whistle, and it's all crazy perfect. The MP3 is available via the Anti web site. "So get out get out of your house," she purrs. So saying, I will.
Monday, April 17, 2006
THIS WEEK'S FINDS
week of Apr. 16-22
"What Do I Know" - Peter Walker
Sharp and assured, this song is enlivened by the juxtaposition of a tight beat and a relaxed melody. Despite a stark and itchy guitar-and-drum backdrop straight out of, I don't know, an early Joe Jackson record maybe, Walker sings with a cool, deft calm that really centers this short song--he seems in fact to be singing perpetually off the beat; combined with how the lyrics tend to clump into three-syllable groups, Walker creates a sense of unexpected space in a rigorously marked 4/4 environment (each beat itself often slashed out by double-time rhythm guitar eighth notes). And in a song that's not much more than two and a half minutes, I wouldn't expect a kick-out-the-jams guitar solo, but I'm impressed by the sonorous and genuinely interesting 25-second turn Walker takes on his instrument, from which he gets a neat bagpipe-y sort of droniness. "What Do I Know" is the last song on Young Gravity, Walker's second CD, which was released last week on Dangerbird Records. The MP3 is via Walker's web site.
"Preludio" - Hacia Dos Veranos
Every now and then my non-instrumental-oriented ears glom onto an instrumental that they decide they like, at which point my brain has to kind of catch up and figure out why. Usually to no avail. All I can say here is that I find the combination of the mellow, vaguely Latin-sounding electric guitar and haunted-mansion organ unaccountably fetching. Every time the organ takes center stage--the riff first heard around 0:59--and then begins to sound maybe more like a haunted merry-go-round, I feel like smiling. When music makes me smile, I know I'm liking it, but usually, again, in a way my brain isn't necessarily contributing to. And then, okay, just when I think I'm sinking into this brisk, semi-wacky vibe, along comes an organ sustain, at around 2:43, telling me something's up, something new. When the organ finally releases its chord, almost a full minute later, what do we get? Crazy-loud-strident guitars, that's what. Cool! Hacia Dos Veranos ("Towards Two Summers") is a trio from Argentina; their debut EP, called Fragmentos de una tarde somnolienta (Fragments of a sleepy afternoon, perhaps?), was released was released in South America in 2005 on Muy Moderna Records and then in the U.K. in January 2006 on I Wish I Was Unpopular, an archly-named division of Unpopular Records. The MP3 is available courtesy of the band.
"Day OK" - Spiral Beach
Slinky spunky and skewed, "Day OK" sounds like no sort of music we might, pop-culturally, expect from four teenagers, even if they are from the musically advanced nation of Canada; but then again, I think teenagers in the 21st century have a whole other thing going on than either a) teenagers did in previous notable generations (i.e. baby boomer teens) or b) the current cultural stereotype (i.e. multi-tasking, iPod-addled techno-zombies) would have you believe. I love the ghostly, accordion-like keyboard riff that sets the jaunty tone, I love the gleeful syncopation, and I love the effortlessly quirky hook in the chorus, the repeated words bouncing what sounds like a minor third back and forth in a major setting, somehow. Singer Maddy Wilde has more depth of character in her voice than one often hears in singers quite literally twice her age (she's got a great name, too). Whether this is a lucky early-career home run or indication of eventual superstardom--well, to quote Peter Walker from above, what do I know. The song is great, however. It can be found on the band's new 10-song self-titled, self-released CD. The MP3 is available via the band's site. Thanks to the very hard-working Largehearted Boy for the lead.
week of Apr. 16-22
"What Do I Know" - Peter Walker
Sharp and assured, this song is enlivened by the juxtaposition of a tight beat and a relaxed melody. Despite a stark and itchy guitar-and-drum backdrop straight out of, I don't know, an early Joe Jackson record maybe, Walker sings with a cool, deft calm that really centers this short song--he seems in fact to be singing perpetually off the beat; combined with how the lyrics tend to clump into three-syllable groups, Walker creates a sense of unexpected space in a rigorously marked 4/4 environment (each beat itself often slashed out by double-time rhythm guitar eighth notes). And in a song that's not much more than two and a half minutes, I wouldn't expect a kick-out-the-jams guitar solo, but I'm impressed by the sonorous and genuinely interesting 25-second turn Walker takes on his instrument, from which he gets a neat bagpipe-y sort of droniness. "What Do I Know" is the last song on Young Gravity, Walker's second CD, which was released last week on Dangerbird Records. The MP3 is via Walker's web site.
"Preludio" - Hacia Dos Veranos
Every now and then my non-instrumental-oriented ears glom onto an instrumental that they decide they like, at which point my brain has to kind of catch up and figure out why. Usually to no avail. All I can say here is that I find the combination of the mellow, vaguely Latin-sounding electric guitar and haunted-mansion organ unaccountably fetching. Every time the organ takes center stage--the riff first heard around 0:59--and then begins to sound maybe more like a haunted merry-go-round, I feel like smiling. When music makes me smile, I know I'm liking it, but usually, again, in a way my brain isn't necessarily contributing to. And then, okay, just when I think I'm sinking into this brisk, semi-wacky vibe, along comes an organ sustain, at around 2:43, telling me something's up, something new. When the organ finally releases its chord, almost a full minute later, what do we get? Crazy-loud-strident guitars, that's what. Cool! Hacia Dos Veranos ("Towards Two Summers") is a trio from Argentina; their debut EP, called Fragmentos de una tarde somnolienta (Fragments of a sleepy afternoon, perhaps?), was released was released in South America in 2005 on Muy Moderna Records and then in the U.K. in January 2006 on I Wish I Was Unpopular, an archly-named division of Unpopular Records. The MP3 is available courtesy of the band.
"Day OK" - Spiral Beach
Slinky spunky and skewed, "Day OK" sounds like no sort of music we might, pop-culturally, expect from four teenagers, even if they are from the musically advanced nation of Canada; but then again, I think teenagers in the 21st century have a whole other thing going on than either a) teenagers did in previous notable generations (i.e. baby boomer teens) or b) the current cultural stereotype (i.e. multi-tasking, iPod-addled techno-zombies) would have you believe. I love the ghostly, accordion-like keyboard riff that sets the jaunty tone, I love the gleeful syncopation, and I love the effortlessly quirky hook in the chorus, the repeated words bouncing what sounds like a minor third back and forth in a major setting, somehow. Singer Maddy Wilde has more depth of character in her voice than one often hears in singers quite literally twice her age (she's got a great name, too). Whether this is a lucky early-career home run or indication of eventual superstardom--well, to quote Peter Walker from above, what do I know. The song is great, however. It can be found on the band's new 10-song self-titled, self-released CD. The MP3 is available via the band's site. Thanks to the very hard-working Largehearted Boy for the lead.
Monday, April 03, 2006
THIS WEEK'S FINDS
week of Apr. 2-8
Fingertips will be on vacation the week of April 9 through 15. The next "This Week's Finds" update will appear on Sunday, April 16 (yes, Sunday! I think!), for the week of April 16-22. Go plant some flowers and talk to a tree or two; see you after the break...
"Dislocated (London Version)" - the Playwrights
A splendid, dense, and affecting 21st-century amalgam of the Gang of Four and the Jam from an intense young British quintet. It's the melodica, to begin with, that has me paying attention, playing its wistful refrain in the intro underneath the slashing siren-like guitar dissonance that everyone like to call "angular." After that the song belongs to vocalist Aaron Dewey, a singer with a somewhat one-dimensional tone and not necessarily a great range but an arresting presence, at once matter of fact and disconcerting. Dewey doesn't quite sing what it sounds like he's singing, and doesn't quite say what he's actually saying (I strongly suggest you head to the band's web site, click on "lyrics," and follow the words as he sings; it really changes the experience of listening to the song). "Dislocated" has a closed-in melody, with one note rarely moving more than a step or two away from the previous note, and yet look at what Dewey does with it: in the chorus, for instance, when he sings "I am feeling"--it sounds like some great leap he's taking between "am" and "feeling" and yet it's just one full step. I'm fascinated by stuff like that. While music this urgent and serious-sounding can readily bog down in its own dire potency, the Playwrights save themselves by the poignancy they mix into the stark, slashing drive. ("This is what happens when people open their hearts," Dewey sings at the end.) "Dislocated" was a song previously released on a CD single, and re-recorded (thus the "London version") for the band's first full-fledged, widely-released CD, English Self Storage, which came out in March on Sink & Stove Records in the U.K., and is set for release in the U.S. later this month.
"Cold December" - Matt Costa
Sweet-voiced Southern California-based singer/songwriter Matt Costa has done here what I had previously considered impossible: he's taken today's (overly) prevalent jam-band-fed, laid-back-singer-songwriter vibe and made a good song out of it. Nothing against jam-band-fed, laid-back-singer-songwriters (or their fans), mind you; they're all (by and large) pleasant fellows (they're all fellows) making pleasant sounds. But they tend not to write songs, according to what my ears want and need. They seem instead ever-so-groovily content to combine aimless melodies and a few sturdy chords while they do their whispery-lazy, just-loping-around act or their hyper-wordy-and-rhythmic act. Costa sounds cut from the same cloth, but he's got a lot more going for him, in my opinion. I hear it right from the start: over an itchy acoustic guitar he's singing a real melody, and he even lets the melodic line end in an unresolved chord. Next thing we know, the song shifts, and we get a full-fledged pop hook, bright and emphatic and redolent of some old '70s AM radio hit or another. And yet we're not even at the chorus, leaving some unnamed complexity in the air. When we get there, the song actually folds in on itself introspectively--another unexpected, song-conscious touch. "Cold December" is the first track on Costa's new CD, Songs We Sing, released last week on (uh-oh! Jack Johnson's label!) Brushfire Records. The MP3 is via his site.
"Inside of Me" - Starlight Mints
That opening cascade on the piano tells you a lot of what you need to know here. It comes at you from all sides, sounds like four people trying to do one glissando and half knocking the drummer off his stool in the process. It's a great intro to a stompy, glam-infected rocker that maintains a slightly crazy edge throughout. I love it when a band that can get truly weird--as Starlight Mints can--choose to keep it more or less under wraps and offer up their version of a straightforward pop song; the weirdness still seeps out through the seams. That's a good thing. I like in particular the portentous reverb-y guitar that rings out every so often, and those loopy ELO harmonies that kick in around 3:00. The lyrics raise an eyebrow as well, as much as I can make them out ("So come inside and be my skin and bones"?). What's in the water out there in Norman, Oklahoma anyway? The Flaming Lips are from the same town as these folks. "Inside of Me" is a track off the band's new CD, called Drowaton, which is due out later this month on Barsuk Records. The MP3 is hosted on the Barsuk site.
week of Apr. 2-8
Fingertips will be on vacation the week of April 9 through 15. The next "This Week's Finds" update will appear on Sunday, April 16 (yes, Sunday! I think!), for the week of April 16-22. Go plant some flowers and talk to a tree or two; see you after the break...
"Dislocated (London Version)" - the Playwrights
A splendid, dense, and affecting 21st-century amalgam of the Gang of Four and the Jam from an intense young British quintet. It's the melodica, to begin with, that has me paying attention, playing its wistful refrain in the intro underneath the slashing siren-like guitar dissonance that everyone like to call "angular." After that the song belongs to vocalist Aaron Dewey, a singer with a somewhat one-dimensional tone and not necessarily a great range but an arresting presence, at once matter of fact and disconcerting. Dewey doesn't quite sing what it sounds like he's singing, and doesn't quite say what he's actually saying (I strongly suggest you head to the band's web site, click on "lyrics," and follow the words as he sings; it really changes the experience of listening to the song). "Dislocated" has a closed-in melody, with one note rarely moving more than a step or two away from the previous note, and yet look at what Dewey does with it: in the chorus, for instance, when he sings "I am feeling"--it sounds like some great leap he's taking between "am" and "feeling" and yet it's just one full step. I'm fascinated by stuff like that. While music this urgent and serious-sounding can readily bog down in its own dire potency, the Playwrights save themselves by the poignancy they mix into the stark, slashing drive. ("This is what happens when people open their hearts," Dewey sings at the end.) "Dislocated" was a song previously released on a CD single, and re-recorded (thus the "London version") for the band's first full-fledged, widely-released CD, English Self Storage, which came out in March on Sink & Stove Records in the U.K., and is set for release in the U.S. later this month.
"Cold December" - Matt Costa
Sweet-voiced Southern California-based singer/songwriter Matt Costa has done here what I had previously considered impossible: he's taken today's (overly) prevalent jam-band-fed, laid-back-singer-songwriter vibe and made a good song out of it. Nothing against jam-band-fed, laid-back-singer-songwriters (or their fans), mind you; they're all (by and large) pleasant fellows (they're all fellows) making pleasant sounds. But they tend not to write songs, according to what my ears want and need. They seem instead ever-so-groovily content to combine aimless melodies and a few sturdy chords while they do their whispery-lazy, just-loping-around act or their hyper-wordy-and-rhythmic act. Costa sounds cut from the same cloth, but he's got a lot more going for him, in my opinion. I hear it right from the start: over an itchy acoustic guitar he's singing a real melody, and he even lets the melodic line end in an unresolved chord. Next thing we know, the song shifts, and we get a full-fledged pop hook, bright and emphatic and redolent of some old '70s AM radio hit or another. And yet we're not even at the chorus, leaving some unnamed complexity in the air. When we get there, the song actually folds in on itself introspectively--another unexpected, song-conscious touch. "Cold December" is the first track on Costa's new CD, Songs We Sing, released last week on (uh-oh! Jack Johnson's label!) Brushfire Records. The MP3 is via his site.
"Inside of Me" - Starlight Mints
That opening cascade on the piano tells you a lot of what you need to know here. It comes at you from all sides, sounds like four people trying to do one glissando and half knocking the drummer off his stool in the process. It's a great intro to a stompy, glam-infected rocker that maintains a slightly crazy edge throughout. I love it when a band that can get truly weird--as Starlight Mints can--choose to keep it more or less under wraps and offer up their version of a straightforward pop song; the weirdness still seeps out through the seams. That's a good thing. I like in particular the portentous reverb-y guitar that rings out every so often, and those loopy ELO harmonies that kick in around 3:00. The lyrics raise an eyebrow as well, as much as I can make them out ("So come inside and be my skin and bones"?). What's in the water out there in Norman, Oklahoma anyway? The Flaming Lips are from the same town as these folks. "Inside of Me" is a track off the band's new CD, called Drowaton, which is due out later this month on Barsuk Records. The MP3 is hosted on the Barsuk site.
Monday, March 27, 2006
THIS WEEK'S FINDS
week of Mar. 26-Apr. 1
"5 Verses" - Jeremy Warmsley
One part noodly-introspective bedroom rock, one part expansive pure pop, knitted together with fuzzy 21st-century beats, "Five Verses" wins me over more for its unfettered vitality and than for its closely-told boy-meets-girl story. (I'll readily admit that I had to get past the "They met in a karoake bar..." opening; and yet I like to think that the singer/songwriter is more or less daring us to stick with him after that one.) Warmsley is a half-French, half-English troubadour, based in London, with a winning mixture of humility and cheek; his web site tells us that he "makes electronica with songs in them," which is as brilliant a self-description as I've seen from a musician in quite a while. For me it's the great swooping melody that rules this one--the steady dip down, the giddy leap up at the end of a couple of lines in each verse. And don't miss the wacky little wordless bridge in the middle (around 1:40)--it's literally an "ooh" and an "ahh" but what a great chord change that is. The song comes from Warmsley's 5 Interesting Lies EP, released in November on Transgressive Records in the U.K. The MP3 is available via his site, thanks to a head's up from Hedvika at the excellent Echo blog.
"In the Beginning" - the Stills
An exceedingly likable and well put-together song from this fine Montreal band. First we get one itchy electric guitar scratching out a gallopy one-two beat, the inherent tension of the sound accentuated by the background happenings--shimmery cymbals marking the beat while keyboards and guitars gather, seem ready to burst forward yet holding back in a drone-y, almost tuning-up sort of way. Then, at 0:39, bam: we get a focused, quickly memorable instrumental melody, the song now crackling with a great, swelling energy that I'm tempted to call "wholesome" for reasons I can't quite pinpoint (perhaps because it sounds so organic, owing more somehow to folk music than rock'n'roll). I am particularly smitten with the section that links the verse to the simple chorus: first heard at 1:26, it couples the percussive guitar of the intro to a melody so friendly it's actually rather inspiring; listen for the Hammond organ flourishes that add to the chewy texture. Note too how the false ending leads to an "outro" that nicely mirrors the intro. "In the Beginning" will appear on the Stills' forthcoming CD Without Feathers, due for release in early May on Vice Records. The MP3 comes courtesy of Vice.
"Love Revolution" - All Mighty Whispers
Another song with a vibe at once friendly and polished, this one wrapping itself in an ineffable sort of groovy-'60s wash: the effortless melody, the bassline hook, the head-bobbingly agreeable beat (complete with real drums), and the busy but unidentifiable background fill combine to ooze an unbearable nostalgia for a past that never quite existed. On top of it all comes singer Peter Hill's voice, a pleasantly reedy instrument given a wonderful double-tracked substance that helps make "Love Revolution" sound both as light as air and as solid as a big comfy chair. I can't always identify a producer's impact--and often his or her job is to sound like no one was producing it at all--but in this case I tip my metaphorical hat in the direction of Grzegorz Czachor, the Polish producer enlisted to create this spiffy piece of expert pop, and to the Norwich (U.K.) trio behind the music for enlisting him. "Love Revolution" is the title track of the band's self-titled debut CD, released in Februrary. The MP3 is available via the band's site.
week of Mar. 26-Apr. 1
"5 Verses" - Jeremy Warmsley
One part noodly-introspective bedroom rock, one part expansive pure pop, knitted together with fuzzy 21st-century beats, "Five Verses" wins me over more for its unfettered vitality and than for its closely-told boy-meets-girl story. (I'll readily admit that I had to get past the "They met in a karoake bar..." opening; and yet I like to think that the singer/songwriter is more or less daring us to stick with him after that one.) Warmsley is a half-French, half-English troubadour, based in London, with a winning mixture of humility and cheek; his web site tells us that he "makes electronica with songs in them," which is as brilliant a self-description as I've seen from a musician in quite a while. For me it's the great swooping melody that rules this one--the steady dip down, the giddy leap up at the end of a couple of lines in each verse. And don't miss the wacky little wordless bridge in the middle (around 1:40)--it's literally an "ooh" and an "ahh" but what a great chord change that is. The song comes from Warmsley's 5 Interesting Lies EP, released in November on Transgressive Records in the U.K. The MP3 is available via his site, thanks to a head's up from Hedvika at the excellent Echo blog.
"In the Beginning" - the Stills
An exceedingly likable and well put-together song from this fine Montreal band. First we get one itchy electric guitar scratching out a gallopy one-two beat, the inherent tension of the sound accentuated by the background happenings--shimmery cymbals marking the beat while keyboards and guitars gather, seem ready to burst forward yet holding back in a drone-y, almost tuning-up sort of way. Then, at 0:39, bam: we get a focused, quickly memorable instrumental melody, the song now crackling with a great, swelling energy that I'm tempted to call "wholesome" for reasons I can't quite pinpoint (perhaps because it sounds so organic, owing more somehow to folk music than rock'n'roll). I am particularly smitten with the section that links the verse to the simple chorus: first heard at 1:26, it couples the percussive guitar of the intro to a melody so friendly it's actually rather inspiring; listen for the Hammond organ flourishes that add to the chewy texture. Note too how the false ending leads to an "outro" that nicely mirrors the intro. "In the Beginning" will appear on the Stills' forthcoming CD Without Feathers, due for release in early May on Vice Records. The MP3 comes courtesy of Vice.
"Love Revolution" - All Mighty Whispers
Another song with a vibe at once friendly and polished, this one wrapping itself in an ineffable sort of groovy-'60s wash: the effortless melody, the bassline hook, the head-bobbingly agreeable beat (complete with real drums), and the busy but unidentifiable background fill combine to ooze an unbearable nostalgia for a past that never quite existed. On top of it all comes singer Peter Hill's voice, a pleasantly reedy instrument given a wonderful double-tracked substance that helps make "Love Revolution" sound both as light as air and as solid as a big comfy chair. I can't always identify a producer's impact--and often his or her job is to sound like no one was producing it at all--but in this case I tip my metaphorical hat in the direction of Grzegorz Czachor, the Polish producer enlisted to create this spiffy piece of expert pop, and to the Norwich (U.K.) trio behind the music for enlisting him. "Love Revolution" is the title track of the band's self-titled debut CD, released in Februrary. The MP3 is available via the band's site.
Monday, March 20, 2006
THIS WEEK'S FINDS
week of Mar. 19-25
"Y Mas Gan" - Sinéad O'Connor
Make no mistake: Sinéad O'Connor is a magical singer; the various twists and turns her career have taken, many of them controversial, have maybe blinded us to how deeply talented she really is. We were given another chance to figure this out last year, in the most unexpected of ways, as the often hair-free Irish singer recorded an album of roots reggae covers entitled Throw Down Your Arms (self-released in October on a label she calls That's Why There's Chocolate and Vanilla). It was the kind of well-intentioned but confusing-to-the-mass-media effort that was destined to look like a sort of stunt and fade away. I pretty much missed it, telling myself "Well, I'm not really much of a reggae fan anyway" and leaving it at that. Then I stumbled last week upon this MP3 at music.download.com and I realize I may have missed a treasure. This song has great musical character from the get-go, revolving around the mischievous dialogue between a melodic bass line and sly horn chart that unfolds against the familiar loping reggae beat. O'Connor's voice has an incredible purity at its center, and she has learned to sing with a stunning sort of restraint, almost as if she were able to whisper with her mouth wide open. Listen for her overdubbed, upper-register harmonies, which offer a series of brilliant, unanticipated intervals in the service of the melody and the message. O'Connor traveled to Jamaica to record the CD in Bob Marley's Tuff Gong recording studio, with the help of master reggae rhythm section/producers Sly and Robbie; she even went so far as to use at least one musician on each track who played on the original. Here she sings a song recorded first by the Abyssinians in 1972. Most of the words are not in English; she may or may not be playing entirely by whatever rules that practitioners and/or fans believe may govern the genre; all I know is that the end result is not only beautiful but distinctly inspiring.
"Roscoe" - Midlake
After a chuggy bit of Fleetwood Mac-ish keyboard vamping, we find ourselves abruptly in the middle of an unfathomable tale involving stonecutters, mountaineers, and an odd sense of displacement in both time and space. As difficult as it is to get grounded here lyrically, I feel myself completely embraced musically, and this is I believe one of pop music's most wondrous gifts: the capacity to juxtapose accessible music with mysterious lyrics (just as powerful a combination, I think, as the more often discussed idea of setting sad lyrics to happy music). Too often it seems bands feel the need to push into obscurity both musically and lyrically, and while this no doubt can have its own rewards, it rarely works that well for the uninitiated listener, or for anyone seeking great pop music, which requires some amount of listenability by definition. Longtime Fingertips visitors may recall Midlake for the majestic "Balloon Maker," a stylish piece of Brit-inflected neo-progressive pop from the band's debut CD in 2004. "Roscoe" sounds almost nothing like that, its Stevie Nicks groove transforming singer/songwriter Tim Smith's voice into that guy from Bread this time, although his Thom Yorke-ish tone is still pleasantly apparent. A five-piece band from Denton, Texas, Midlake will release its second CD, entitled (unfathomably enough) The Trials of Van Occupanther, on Bella Union in July. The MP3 is available via World's Fair, a music promotion site.
"Don't Be Afraid, I've Just Come to Say Goodbye (The Ballad of Clementine Jones)" - Spider
Sometimes this song pulls the listener in to such a whispery-quiet place it seems I can hear not merely the acoustic guitar but the very act of strings being plucked and the guitar's body shifting on the thighs of the guitar player. We're talking intimate sound here, and yet what's so bracing and engaging is how much else is going on even in this very personal setting: a wistful flute comes and goes, as does a french horn, a lonely yet precise wood block, and, even, some backward-sounding electric guitar lines, everything coming and going with so much gentleness that you don't realize something has been until it's not again. At the center of everything is Jane Herships, doing musical business as Spider, and it is her semi-trembly yet articulate voice that anchors the effort and keeps it from veering off into some sort of lo-fi abyss. If you think it's easy to sing this closely and precisely and unwaveringly in pitch, you haven't tried; and if you think it doesn't make a difference, you haven't heard enough singers who can't do it. "Don't Be Afraid..." is from Spider's eight-song CD, The Way to Bitter Lake, which was released earlier this year. The MP3 is hosted on her MySpace page. (Have patience with the download, sometimes MySpace takes a while to figure out you're there.)
week of Mar. 19-25
"Y Mas Gan" - Sinéad O'Connor
Make no mistake: Sinéad O'Connor is a magical singer; the various twists and turns her career have taken, many of them controversial, have maybe blinded us to how deeply talented she really is. We were given another chance to figure this out last year, in the most unexpected of ways, as the often hair-free Irish singer recorded an album of roots reggae covers entitled Throw Down Your Arms (self-released in October on a label she calls That's Why There's Chocolate and Vanilla). It was the kind of well-intentioned but confusing-to-the-mass-media effort that was destined to look like a sort of stunt and fade away. I pretty much missed it, telling myself "Well, I'm not really much of a reggae fan anyway" and leaving it at that. Then I stumbled last week upon this MP3 at music.download.com and I realize I may have missed a treasure. This song has great musical character from the get-go, revolving around the mischievous dialogue between a melodic bass line and sly horn chart that unfolds against the familiar loping reggae beat. O'Connor's voice has an incredible purity at its center, and she has learned to sing with a stunning sort of restraint, almost as if she were able to whisper with her mouth wide open. Listen for her overdubbed, upper-register harmonies, which offer a series of brilliant, unanticipated intervals in the service of the melody and the message. O'Connor traveled to Jamaica to record the CD in Bob Marley's Tuff Gong recording studio, with the help of master reggae rhythm section/producers Sly and Robbie; she even went so far as to use at least one musician on each track who played on the original. Here she sings a song recorded first by the Abyssinians in 1972. Most of the words are not in English; she may or may not be playing entirely by whatever rules that practitioners and/or fans believe may govern the genre; all I know is that the end result is not only beautiful but distinctly inspiring.
"Roscoe" - Midlake
After a chuggy bit of Fleetwood Mac-ish keyboard vamping, we find ourselves abruptly in the middle of an unfathomable tale involving stonecutters, mountaineers, and an odd sense of displacement in both time and space. As difficult as it is to get grounded here lyrically, I feel myself completely embraced musically, and this is I believe one of pop music's most wondrous gifts: the capacity to juxtapose accessible music with mysterious lyrics (just as powerful a combination, I think, as the more often discussed idea of setting sad lyrics to happy music). Too often it seems bands feel the need to push into obscurity both musically and lyrically, and while this no doubt can have its own rewards, it rarely works that well for the uninitiated listener, or for anyone seeking great pop music, which requires some amount of listenability by definition. Longtime Fingertips visitors may recall Midlake for the majestic "Balloon Maker," a stylish piece of Brit-inflected neo-progressive pop from the band's debut CD in 2004. "Roscoe" sounds almost nothing like that, its Stevie Nicks groove transforming singer/songwriter Tim Smith's voice into that guy from Bread this time, although his Thom Yorke-ish tone is still pleasantly apparent. A five-piece band from Denton, Texas, Midlake will release its second CD, entitled (unfathomably enough) The Trials of Van Occupanther, on Bella Union in July. The MP3 is available via World's Fair, a music promotion site.
"Don't Be Afraid, I've Just Come to Say Goodbye (The Ballad of Clementine Jones)" - Spider
Sometimes this song pulls the listener in to such a whispery-quiet place it seems I can hear not merely the acoustic guitar but the very act of strings being plucked and the guitar's body shifting on the thighs of the guitar player. We're talking intimate sound here, and yet what's so bracing and engaging is how much else is going on even in this very personal setting: a wistful flute comes and goes, as does a french horn, a lonely yet precise wood block, and, even, some backward-sounding electric guitar lines, everything coming and going with so much gentleness that you don't realize something has been until it's not again. At the center of everything is Jane Herships, doing musical business as Spider, and it is her semi-trembly yet articulate voice that anchors the effort and keeps it from veering off into some sort of lo-fi abyss. If you think it's easy to sing this closely and precisely and unwaveringly in pitch, you haven't tried; and if you think it doesn't make a difference, you haven't heard enough singers who can't do it. "Don't Be Afraid..." is from Spider's eight-song CD, The Way to Bitter Lake, which was released earlier this year. The MP3 is hosted on her MySpace page. (Have patience with the download, sometimes MySpace takes a while to figure out you're there.)
Monday, March 13, 2006
THIS WEEK'S FINDS
week of Mar. 12-18
The massive music orgy otherwise known as SXSW gets underway in Texas this week: more than 1,300 artists from around the world performing at a crazy variety of venues in Austin over a five-day stretch (you do the math--that's 260+ acts a day). In salute of this ear-boggling enterprise, all three picks this week come from the really worthwhile storehouse of more than 700 MP3s the SXSW folks have amassed on their website. Here are three of the best ones I've come across so far (in addition to the ones featured over the past couple of weeks--namely, Editors and Guillemots). And there are plenty more where these came from, so check it out yourself, if you have the time.
#807 - Pieta Brown
With great offhand authority, Pieta Brown sounds like Kathleen Edwards taught by Rickie Lee Jones to stand in for Tom Waits; "#807" is all sturdy melody and slinky atmospherics, delivered with a dusky, jazzy sort of smolder. Words are carressed, slightly slurred, Brown's voice alternating between soft and broken, and yet (here's the impressive thing) never overwhelming the musical movement. I love the combination of intent and spaciousness created by the interplay between the understated drumming and the forlorn electric guitar (hat's off to guitarist and co-producer Bo Ramsey), and how Brown lays herself in among them, rather than seek attention histrionically, as so many singers these days appear taught to do. I'm not a fan of generic bluesy-folksy stuff, but the minute I hear a song with a strong sense of its own center like this, I feel rivetted. Daughter of singer/songwriter Greg Brown, Pieta (pronounced pee-ETT-uh) has recorded three CDs to date; "#807" is from her latest, In The Cool, released in September 2005 on Valley Entertainment.
"Breakfast in NYC" - Oppenheimer
Mid-tempo synth-pop enlivened by its splendid juxtaposition of a heavy, drone-propelled beat and sweet soaring vocals. Subtract the synthesizers--both the fuzzy, deep one and the dingly high one--and the song is revealed at its core to be Beach-Boys pure (the very first word, even, is "Summer"), its Brian Wilson-y sing-song verse setting up a heart-bursting hook in the chorus. It's a hook that packs a grand wallop for almost no apparent reason: the melody takes what sound like joyful leaps both upward and downward that all turn out to be that most pedestrian of intervals, the third. A third is the basic building block of music; all chords are based on thirds. And yet here the interval sounds towering, revelatory--probably due to both the singer's immaculate tone and the irresistible use of echo harmonies as the thirds alternate achingly between major and minor chords. Ahhhh--just brilliant. Oppenheimer is a duo, first names Shaun and Rocky, from Belfast, Northern Ireland; they are thus far keeping information about themselves close to the vest. I can't discover, for instance, which one is the lead singer, but I do know that the band's debut CD is expected out in June on Bar/None Records.
"Hunger" - Nicolai Dunger
A joyous re-working of Van Morrison's classic sound (ah, if only Van the Man himself hadn't forsaken this vibe so entirely in recent decades; I miss it, is all). "Hunger" is all free-wheeling drive and shake-it-out passion, complete with warm piano riffs, soulful organ lines, surf-guitar accents (!), and hot horn charts. The wonderful combination of Dunger's no-holds-barred vocal style and the song's tumbly energy makes me certain when I say: Give me good over "new" any day of the week. All too many rock music writers, online and otherwise, issue noisy disapproval when they hear "nothing new" in the music of this or that band, but since when is newness a categorical virtue? Quality is the only thing it seems to me we should be paying attention to, and previously unheard sounds do not have the corner market on quality, says me. But I digress. As for Dunger, he was once a promising soccer player on the Swedish national team who was discovered by a producer who happened to walk by as Dunger sang on the balcony of his apartment in the small city of Piteå, on the Gulf of Bothnia in northern Sweden. That's their story and they're sticking to it. Dunger has been recording CDs for European release since 1996; "Hunger" can be found on his latest, entitled Here's My Song, You Can Have It...I Don't Want It Anymore, to be released in the U.S. tomorrow on Zoe Records.
CONGRATULATIONS by the way to the Fingertips visitor in the Netherlands who was the winner of the Fingertips Best of 2005 CD, his name randomly drawn from among the first 100 to fill out the no-longer-available Fingertips Visitors Survey. Stay tuned, however, for another survey, and another CD drawing, scheduled for later this spring.
week of Mar. 12-18
The massive music orgy otherwise known as SXSW gets underway in Texas this week: more than 1,300 artists from around the world performing at a crazy variety of venues in Austin over a five-day stretch (you do the math--that's 260+ acts a day). In salute of this ear-boggling enterprise, all three picks this week come from the really worthwhile storehouse of more than 700 MP3s the SXSW folks have amassed on their website. Here are three of the best ones I've come across so far (in addition to the ones featured over the past couple of weeks--namely, Editors and Guillemots). And there are plenty more where these came from, so check it out yourself, if you have the time.
#807 - Pieta Brown
With great offhand authority, Pieta Brown sounds like Kathleen Edwards taught by Rickie Lee Jones to stand in for Tom Waits; "#807" is all sturdy melody and slinky atmospherics, delivered with a dusky, jazzy sort of smolder. Words are carressed, slightly slurred, Brown's voice alternating between soft and broken, and yet (here's the impressive thing) never overwhelming the musical movement. I love the combination of intent and spaciousness created by the interplay between the understated drumming and the forlorn electric guitar (hat's off to guitarist and co-producer Bo Ramsey), and how Brown lays herself in among them, rather than seek attention histrionically, as so many singers these days appear taught to do. I'm not a fan of generic bluesy-folksy stuff, but the minute I hear a song with a strong sense of its own center like this, I feel rivetted. Daughter of singer/songwriter Greg Brown, Pieta (pronounced pee-ETT-uh) has recorded three CDs to date; "#807" is from her latest, In The Cool, released in September 2005 on Valley Entertainment.
"Breakfast in NYC" - Oppenheimer
Mid-tempo synth-pop enlivened by its splendid juxtaposition of a heavy, drone-propelled beat and sweet soaring vocals. Subtract the synthesizers--both the fuzzy, deep one and the dingly high one--and the song is revealed at its core to be Beach-Boys pure (the very first word, even, is "Summer"), its Brian Wilson-y sing-song verse setting up a heart-bursting hook in the chorus. It's a hook that packs a grand wallop for almost no apparent reason: the melody takes what sound like joyful leaps both upward and downward that all turn out to be that most pedestrian of intervals, the third. A third is the basic building block of music; all chords are based on thirds. And yet here the interval sounds towering, revelatory--probably due to both the singer's immaculate tone and the irresistible use of echo harmonies as the thirds alternate achingly between major and minor chords. Ahhhh--just brilliant. Oppenheimer is a duo, first names Shaun and Rocky, from Belfast, Northern Ireland; they are thus far keeping information about themselves close to the vest. I can't discover, for instance, which one is the lead singer, but I do know that the band's debut CD is expected out in June on Bar/None Records.
"Hunger" - Nicolai Dunger
A joyous re-working of Van Morrison's classic sound (ah, if only Van the Man himself hadn't forsaken this vibe so entirely in recent decades; I miss it, is all). "Hunger" is all free-wheeling drive and shake-it-out passion, complete with warm piano riffs, soulful organ lines, surf-guitar accents (!), and hot horn charts. The wonderful combination of Dunger's no-holds-barred vocal style and the song's tumbly energy makes me certain when I say: Give me good over "new" any day of the week. All too many rock music writers, online and otherwise, issue noisy disapproval when they hear "nothing new" in the music of this or that band, but since when is newness a categorical virtue? Quality is the only thing it seems to me we should be paying attention to, and previously unheard sounds do not have the corner market on quality, says me. But I digress. As for Dunger, he was once a promising soccer player on the Swedish national team who was discovered by a producer who happened to walk by as Dunger sang on the balcony of his apartment in the small city of Piteå, on the Gulf of Bothnia in northern Sweden. That's their story and they're sticking to it. Dunger has been recording CDs for European release since 1996; "Hunger" can be found on his latest, entitled Here's My Song, You Can Have It...I Don't Want It Anymore, to be released in the U.S. tomorrow on Zoe Records.
CONGRATULATIONS by the way to the Fingertips visitor in the Netherlands who was the winner of the Fingertips Best of 2005 CD, his name randomly drawn from among the first 100 to fill out the no-longer-available Fingertips Visitors Survey. Stay tuned, however, for another survey, and another CD drawing, scheduled for later this spring.
Monday, March 06, 2006
THIS WEEK'S FINDS
week of Mar. 5-11
"Who Left the Lights Off, Baby?" - Guillemots
"I don't think there's a greater art than writing a three-minute pop song that people can sing when they're drunk," says Guillemots' singer and songwriter Fyfe Dangerfield (nee Hutchins). Okay, so this one's five minutes; but who's counting when it's this good-natured, finger-snappy, and brimming with loose-limbed musicality. "Who Left the Lights Off, Baby?" harkens back to Dexy's Midnight Runners ("Come On, Eileen," anyone?) for some of its rollicking spirit, but seems to be operating in a universe entirely of its own. On the one hand effortlessly catchy, the song on the other hand has some unusual things going on in the background and around the edges, such as the wash of spacey keyboards that accompanies most of the way through, the beepy synthesizer outburst at 2:03, the crunchy guitar that slashes in off the beat at around 2:42 (sounding as if another song has accidentally starting playing on my MP3 player at the same time), and then that startlingly hot sax solo that closes things down. Some of the song's ineffable originality may have to do with the multinationality of the band: while Dangerfield is from England, the guitarist is from Brazil, the drummer from Scotland, and the bass player is from Canada (she's also a woman, and is actually playing the double bass). "Who Left the Lights Off, Baby?" is a song off From the Cliffs, the band's eight-song EP due out next week on Fantastic Plastic. The MP3 is one of the hundreds of free and legal downloads available via the SXSW web site.
"Certain Kind of Light" - Gus Black
"Certain Kind of Light" is crisp, itchy, and immediately recognizable and appealing: recognizable because, yeah, the basic chord pattern is a well-well-worn path, appealing because, well, it's an incredibly engaging shift to most people's ears. Why else is "867-5309/Jenny" such an indelible part of rock'n'roll history? This time around L.A.-based singer/songwriter Gus Black takes on the classic progression, and the freshness here, to my ears, has to do with the song's brisk, syncopated feel. Rather than take us on a straightforward, Tommy Tutone-ish 4/4 power pop rave-up, Black, with his potent, elastic tenor, delivers a delicious sense of tension via the rhythm and meter. (Extra points for him for doing so in under three minutes.) I can't always decipher time signatures successfully, but something to do with three rather than four is happening here: note how the rhythm section lays out an urgent series of six beats, while you can simultaneously count a slower 1-2-3 under the basic melody. As far as the basic chord progression goes, I could start talking incoherently about relative minors and subdominants and all that, but in looking at a keyboard I noticed this: the chord pattern is rooted in the fact that any minor chord is converted to a major chord by simply taking its top note up a half step. There's something powerful here, symbolically: just a half step separates minor from major in this instance. Light/dark, good/evil--supply your own metaphor. In the meantime we've all but forgotten about good old Gus Black, whose fourth CD, Autumn Days, is set for U.S. release March 21 on Cheap Lullaby Records; apparently it's been out in Europe since last summer.
"Audrey in the Country" - Envelopes
I know, I know: she's singing out of tune. But bear with me, and her, as together we try to make it okay anyway. Lead singer Audrey (yes) Pic gains some points back for her endearing, Parisian accent (many of us Americans find what we call "foreign accents" unaccountably endearing, for some reason). And maybe the accent somehow makes the pitch problems a little more bearable, but in the end chalk it up to one of pop music's most mysterious (infuriating?) qualities--namely, that singing in tune is not a prerequisite for success. So stay with this quirky, bouncy little song and see if it doesn't work for you too somehow. For me, when the band kicks in fully, at around 0:28, the swelling, bright blue joy of the melody and the perky, melodious accompaniment takes over and suddenly, life is bright and bouncy. The presence of what sounds like a Hammond B3 organ in the swirly mix definitely helps. No doubt this is some sort of quirky, autobiographical thing but I'm not spending a lot of time trying to figure it all out, I'm just enjoying the romping-through-the-meadows sound of the ensemble, which creates a sonic innocence in the context of which the off-key singing perhaps almost makes sense. Envelopes is (are? never sure how that works) a quintet featuring four guys from Sweden, and Audrey, from France; "Audrey in the Country" is a tune from the band's first CD, entitled Demon, which was released last summer in Europe on the Psychotic Reaction label. The MP3 is available via the band's web site.
week of Mar. 5-11
"Who Left the Lights Off, Baby?" - Guillemots
"I don't think there's a greater art than writing a three-minute pop song that people can sing when they're drunk," says Guillemots' singer and songwriter Fyfe Dangerfield (nee Hutchins). Okay, so this one's five minutes; but who's counting when it's this good-natured, finger-snappy, and brimming with loose-limbed musicality. "Who Left the Lights Off, Baby?" harkens back to Dexy's Midnight Runners ("Come On, Eileen," anyone?) for some of its rollicking spirit, but seems to be operating in a universe entirely of its own. On the one hand effortlessly catchy, the song on the other hand has some unusual things going on in the background and around the edges, such as the wash of spacey keyboards that accompanies most of the way through, the beepy synthesizer outburst at 2:03, the crunchy guitar that slashes in off the beat at around 2:42 (sounding as if another song has accidentally starting playing on my MP3 player at the same time), and then that startlingly hot sax solo that closes things down. Some of the song's ineffable originality may have to do with the multinationality of the band: while Dangerfield is from England, the guitarist is from Brazil, the drummer from Scotland, and the bass player is from Canada (she's also a woman, and is actually playing the double bass). "Who Left the Lights Off, Baby?" is a song off From the Cliffs, the band's eight-song EP due out next week on Fantastic Plastic. The MP3 is one of the hundreds of free and legal downloads available via the SXSW web site.
"Certain Kind of Light" - Gus Black
"Certain Kind of Light" is crisp, itchy, and immediately recognizable and appealing: recognizable because, yeah, the basic chord pattern is a well-well-worn path, appealing because, well, it's an incredibly engaging shift to most people's ears. Why else is "867-5309/Jenny" such an indelible part of rock'n'roll history? This time around L.A.-based singer/songwriter Gus Black takes on the classic progression, and the freshness here, to my ears, has to do with the song's brisk, syncopated feel. Rather than take us on a straightforward, Tommy Tutone-ish 4/4 power pop rave-up, Black, with his potent, elastic tenor, delivers a delicious sense of tension via the rhythm and meter. (Extra points for him for doing so in under three minutes.) I can't always decipher time signatures successfully, but something to do with three rather than four is happening here: note how the rhythm section lays out an urgent series of six beats, while you can simultaneously count a slower 1-2-3 under the basic melody. As far as the basic chord progression goes, I could start talking incoherently about relative minors and subdominants and all that, but in looking at a keyboard I noticed this: the chord pattern is rooted in the fact that any minor chord is converted to a major chord by simply taking its top note up a half step. There's something powerful here, symbolically: just a half step separates minor from major in this instance. Light/dark, good/evil--supply your own metaphor. In the meantime we've all but forgotten about good old Gus Black, whose fourth CD, Autumn Days, is set for U.S. release March 21 on Cheap Lullaby Records; apparently it's been out in Europe since last summer.
"Audrey in the Country" - Envelopes
I know, I know: she's singing out of tune. But bear with me, and her, as together we try to make it okay anyway. Lead singer Audrey (yes) Pic gains some points back for her endearing, Parisian accent (many of us Americans find what we call "foreign accents" unaccountably endearing, for some reason). And maybe the accent somehow makes the pitch problems a little more bearable, but in the end chalk it up to one of pop music's most mysterious (infuriating?) qualities--namely, that singing in tune is not a prerequisite for success. So stay with this quirky, bouncy little song and see if it doesn't work for you too somehow. For me, when the band kicks in fully, at around 0:28, the swelling, bright blue joy of the melody and the perky, melodious accompaniment takes over and suddenly, life is bright and bouncy. The presence of what sounds like a Hammond B3 organ in the swirly mix definitely helps. No doubt this is some sort of quirky, autobiographical thing but I'm not spending a lot of time trying to figure it all out, I'm just enjoying the romping-through-the-meadows sound of the ensemble, which creates a sonic innocence in the context of which the off-key singing perhaps almost makes sense. Envelopes is (are? never sure how that works) a quintet featuring four guys from Sweden, and Audrey, from France; "Audrey in the Country" is a tune from the band's first CD, entitled Demon, which was released last summer in Europe on the Psychotic Reaction label. The MP3 is available via the band's web site.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
THIS WEEK'S FINDS
week of Feb. 26-Mar. 4
(Sorry for the delay this week here on the blog. I had a heck of a time accessing Blogger yesterday, for no apparent reason.)
"Munich" - Editors
All siren-like guitars and deep drive, "Munich" is an engaging puzzle. With a full-bodied bravado owing much to British forebears such as Ian McCulloch (Echo & the Bunnymen), vocalist Tom Smith repeats a limited number of minimalist phrases, sketching the sketchiest of stories, at the center of which is a terrific chorus that breaks one of my personal cardinal rules of songwriting: never force the singer to accent the wrong syllable for the sake of the music. And yet here's Smith singing "People are fragile things, you should know by now/Be careful what you put them through," the music forcing him to sing "fragile" unintelligibly, with equal accents on both syllables. But: so much for cardinal rules. Because of the song's resplendent atmosphere, because of Smith's engaging delivery, and, maybe most of all, because of the poignancy of the remark itself, it works. In fact I find myself half believing that the offbeat enunciation was purposeful, that to more effectively make the point he did not allow himself the vulnerability required to say what he's saying clearly. In any case, "Munich" strikes me as a sharp new take on the sort of sound some British bands (Joy Division and Ultravox too, along with Echo) were exploring back in the early '80s. Sure, you can ask: "Munich? Huh?" But to ask is to miss the point of a mystery rendered strong and true by the chiming guitars, the driving beat, the resonant lyrical fragments, and (my favorite touch) the ghostly minor seventh traced by what sounds like a synthesizer through the heart of the chorus. "Munich" is a song off the band's debut CD, The Back Room, to be released in the U.S. in March on the Fader Label (it came out in the U.K. last year). The MP3 is one of the many new ones recently made available via the SXSW web site. (Lots of browsing left to do there to be sure.)
"Tales From the Sea" - Shoot the Moon
The rollicking charm of this homespun adventure is apparent from the get-go: the open-ocean piano/guitar vamp of the introduction, and then that immediate "hey, cool!" part when the phrase "captain of the ship" is ever so slightly delayed before the word "ship," in a way that sounds like a wave breaking across the bow. While the loose-limbed, orchestral feel makes comparisons to Montreal's more well-known export, the Arcade Fire, semi-inevitable, Shoot the Moon doesn't ooze that band's edgy anxiety even as there's a certain sort of tumbly similarity to the sound. I'm finding it hard to follow exactly what's going on (there are hints of all sorts of high-seas drama unfolding), but it's all backdrop to the engaging music, with its oceanic ebbs and flows. Ever the sucker for octave harmonies, I particularly like the ones I'm hearing in what may be the chorus (the whole song is pretty loose-limbed, come to think of it) because it sounds, unusually, like female vocals on top (the band's lead singer is actually Nadia Bashalani, but she takes a backseat on this song). Shoot the Moon is a three-man, three-woman band with one self-released CD under its belt--an eight-song EP called Where Stangers Live, which came out last year. The MP3 is available via their MySpace page.
"Camellia" - Buried Beds
The sparse, clunky-ish drumbeat that opens "Camellia" gives you no idea at all of the sultry, yearning song that follows. But a soft keyboard enters, and the hint of a slide guitar, and then Eliza Hardy opens her mouth. Ahh: she sings close in your ear, with a beautiful tone, but torn up just a bit. Really nice. Another way she engages me at the outset is the four-measure melody she starts with--it leads into the verse, and is heard only once more, at the very end. That's an unusual touch; at the beginning it lengthens the melodic line almost mysteriously; at the end it provides an aching sort of closure. As alluring as Hardy's voice is, she sounds maybe even better when joined in harmony by her original bandmate Brandon Beaver in the chorus (Buried Beds began as a duo, expanding since then to a quintet); of course this may also be because the chorus itself is gorgeous, with all the low-key assurance of a lost pop standard. Featuring an unusal array of instruments (including mandolin and viola), Buried Beds is a Philadelphia band that arose from something called the New Planet Art Collective, a community of writers, artists, and musicians not far from the University of Pennsylvania; "Camellia" is a song off the group's debut CD, Empty Rooms, which has been available at band gigs since last year but has been more officially released last week. The MP3 is available via the band's web site.
week of Feb. 26-Mar. 4
(Sorry for the delay this week here on the blog. I had a heck of a time accessing Blogger yesterday, for no apparent reason.)
"Munich" - Editors
All siren-like guitars and deep drive, "Munich" is an engaging puzzle. With a full-bodied bravado owing much to British forebears such as Ian McCulloch (Echo & the Bunnymen), vocalist Tom Smith repeats a limited number of minimalist phrases, sketching the sketchiest of stories, at the center of which is a terrific chorus that breaks one of my personal cardinal rules of songwriting: never force the singer to accent the wrong syllable for the sake of the music. And yet here's Smith singing "People are fragile things, you should know by now/Be careful what you put them through," the music forcing him to sing "fragile" unintelligibly, with equal accents on both syllables. But: so much for cardinal rules. Because of the song's resplendent atmosphere, because of Smith's engaging delivery, and, maybe most of all, because of the poignancy of the remark itself, it works. In fact I find myself half believing that the offbeat enunciation was purposeful, that to more effectively make the point he did not allow himself the vulnerability required to say what he's saying clearly. In any case, "Munich" strikes me as a sharp new take on the sort of sound some British bands (Joy Division and Ultravox too, along with Echo) were exploring back in the early '80s. Sure, you can ask: "Munich? Huh?" But to ask is to miss the point of a mystery rendered strong and true by the chiming guitars, the driving beat, the resonant lyrical fragments, and (my favorite touch) the ghostly minor seventh traced by what sounds like a synthesizer through the heart of the chorus. "Munich" is a song off the band's debut CD, The Back Room, to be released in the U.S. in March on the Fader Label (it came out in the U.K. last year). The MP3 is one of the many new ones recently made available via the SXSW web site. (Lots of browsing left to do there to be sure.)
"Tales From the Sea" - Shoot the Moon
The rollicking charm of this homespun adventure is apparent from the get-go: the open-ocean piano/guitar vamp of the introduction, and then that immediate "hey, cool!" part when the phrase "captain of the ship" is ever so slightly delayed before the word "ship," in a way that sounds like a wave breaking across the bow. While the loose-limbed, orchestral feel makes comparisons to Montreal's more well-known export, the Arcade Fire, semi-inevitable, Shoot the Moon doesn't ooze that band's edgy anxiety even as there's a certain sort of tumbly similarity to the sound. I'm finding it hard to follow exactly what's going on (there are hints of all sorts of high-seas drama unfolding), but it's all backdrop to the engaging music, with its oceanic ebbs and flows. Ever the sucker for octave harmonies, I particularly like the ones I'm hearing in what may be the chorus (the whole song is pretty loose-limbed, come to think of it) because it sounds, unusually, like female vocals on top (the band's lead singer is actually Nadia Bashalani, but she takes a backseat on this song). Shoot the Moon is a three-man, three-woman band with one self-released CD under its belt--an eight-song EP called Where Stangers Live, which came out last year. The MP3 is available via their MySpace page.
"Camellia" - Buried Beds
The sparse, clunky-ish drumbeat that opens "Camellia" gives you no idea at all of the sultry, yearning song that follows. But a soft keyboard enters, and the hint of a slide guitar, and then Eliza Hardy opens her mouth. Ahh: she sings close in your ear, with a beautiful tone, but torn up just a bit. Really nice. Another way she engages me at the outset is the four-measure melody she starts with--it leads into the verse, and is heard only once more, at the very end. That's an unusual touch; at the beginning it lengthens the melodic line almost mysteriously; at the end it provides an aching sort of closure. As alluring as Hardy's voice is, she sounds maybe even better when joined in harmony by her original bandmate Brandon Beaver in the chorus (Buried Beds began as a duo, expanding since then to a quintet); of course this may also be because the chorus itself is gorgeous, with all the low-key assurance of a lost pop standard. Featuring an unusal array of instruments (including mandolin and viola), Buried Beds is a Philadelphia band that arose from something called the New Planet Art Collective, a community of writers, artists, and musicians not far from the University of Pennsylvania; "Camellia" is a song off the group's debut CD, Empty Rooms, which has been available at band gigs since last year but has been more officially released last week. The MP3 is available via the band's web site.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
THIS WEEK'S FINDS
week of Feb. 19-25
"Letter to the World" - Dead Heart Bloom
With its Pink Floyd chords, Beatlesque strings, and Neil Finn-ish melody, "Letter to the World" is both lovely and deep, always a gratifying combination. The loveliness stems from a beautiful major-to-minor melodic refrain set against an exquisitely restrained instrumental background; the depth emerges first from Boris Skalsky's rich voice, with its Lennon-like timbre, and, as with the loveliness, is encouraged by the pristine production. Formerly the bassist and keyboard player with a D.C. band called the Phasers, Boris Skalsky is now doing the one-man singer/songwriter/performer/producer thing as Dead Heart Bloom. To his credit, however, Skalsky seems at the same time to enjoy collaboration, bringing guest musicians in where needed (and thus avoiding the claustrophobic feeling that often afflicts bedroom rock productions). And he clearly knows what he's doing: listen to how beautifully everything is layered together, from those mournful string quartet flourishes to his firmly centered piano motifs to that forlorn guitar crying echoes in the distance. Dead Heart Bloom's debut, self-titled CD will be released in March on KEI Records, but is now available to download, for free, via the Dead Heart Bloom web site. Do yourself a favor and check out other songs on the album, as Skalsky manages, impressively, to range far and wide sonically even while sounding in the end very much like one band.
"Sunbaby" - the High Violets
And yet sometimes of course I feel like all the fuzzed-up grind of a real band. I will forever be partial to the sort of sound the High Violets aspire to, a shoegazey sort of churny-chimey drive, with an angelic singer floating along on top of all the rumbly electricity. I've been sitting with this song for a number of weeks, putting it aside in the past for what I kept hearing as the lack of a completely satisfying hook; but this week, coming after the precise beauty of the Dead Heart Bloom song, this sounds quite satisfying indeed (the segue is really good, if I do say so myself). (And okay, I know, not many of you guys may necessarily listen to each week's songs one after the other, but be aware that they are in fact selected as threesomes, each balancing something off against the other two.) One of the mistakes I made previously was not turning the volume up high enough: this song just does not achieve its full minimalist-hypnotic effect without the right volume. (When the rhythm and lead guitars start to sort of melt into each other, you're just about loud enough.) Singer Kaitlin Ni Donovan has both a cool name and a fetching way of singing the word "you" differently each of the six times she sings it in the chorus. She has a fetching way of singing "sunbaby" too, just kind of snapping the word "sun" off the roof of her mouth. The High Violets are a Portland, Oregon-based quartet; "Sunbaby" is a song from their new CD, To Where You Are, released at the end of January on Reverb Records. The MP3 is available via the band's web site.
"Clouds" - the Submarines
No doubt if every song were in three-quarter time, the concept would wear thin, probably quickly. But as this is an unlikely development, songs that bounce along with three beats to the measure frequently carry an automatic, bonus air of wistful joy about them. The duo calling themselves the Submarines accentuate this wistful-joyful dichotomy as singer Blake Hazard's intimate, ache-laced voice is offset by a bubbly keyboard riff; likewise does the pair manage to fuse a groovy '60s vibe (I keep think I'm hearing musical allusions to early Joni Mitchell in here--hey she sang about clouds too--but they slip away when I try to pin them down) with a more somber 21st-century electronica edge. Hazard and John Dragonetti, the other Submarine, were once a couple, broke up, went and wrote a bunch of songs separately, and may now be reunited; it's kind of hard to tell from the convoluted bio posted on the Nettwerk Records site. Likewise difficult to discern is when their debut CD, called Declare a New State is coming out--sometime in the spring, it seems. In any case, "Clouds" is one of three good songs from the CD now available as free and legal MP3s on the band's site. Many thanks one more time to Bruce from Some Velvet Blog for the lead.
week of Feb. 19-25
"Letter to the World" - Dead Heart Bloom
With its Pink Floyd chords, Beatlesque strings, and Neil Finn-ish melody, "Letter to the World" is both lovely and deep, always a gratifying combination. The loveliness stems from a beautiful major-to-minor melodic refrain set against an exquisitely restrained instrumental background; the depth emerges first from Boris Skalsky's rich voice, with its Lennon-like timbre, and, as with the loveliness, is encouraged by the pristine production. Formerly the bassist and keyboard player with a D.C. band called the Phasers, Boris Skalsky is now doing the one-man singer/songwriter/performer/producer thing as Dead Heart Bloom. To his credit, however, Skalsky seems at the same time to enjoy collaboration, bringing guest musicians in where needed (and thus avoiding the claustrophobic feeling that often afflicts bedroom rock productions). And he clearly knows what he's doing: listen to how beautifully everything is layered together, from those mournful string quartet flourishes to his firmly centered piano motifs to that forlorn guitar crying echoes in the distance. Dead Heart Bloom's debut, self-titled CD will be released in March on KEI Records, but is now available to download, for free, via the Dead Heart Bloom web site. Do yourself a favor and check out other songs on the album, as Skalsky manages, impressively, to range far and wide sonically even while sounding in the end very much like one band.
"Sunbaby" - the High Violets
And yet sometimes of course I feel like all the fuzzed-up grind of a real band. I will forever be partial to the sort of sound the High Violets aspire to, a shoegazey sort of churny-chimey drive, with an angelic singer floating along on top of all the rumbly electricity. I've been sitting with this song for a number of weeks, putting it aside in the past for what I kept hearing as the lack of a completely satisfying hook; but this week, coming after the precise beauty of the Dead Heart Bloom song, this sounds quite satisfying indeed (the segue is really good, if I do say so myself). (And okay, I know, not many of you guys may necessarily listen to each week's songs one after the other, but be aware that they are in fact selected as threesomes, each balancing something off against the other two.) One of the mistakes I made previously was not turning the volume up high enough: this song just does not achieve its full minimalist-hypnotic effect without the right volume. (When the rhythm and lead guitars start to sort of melt into each other, you're just about loud enough.) Singer Kaitlin Ni Donovan has both a cool name and a fetching way of singing the word "you" differently each of the six times she sings it in the chorus. She has a fetching way of singing "sunbaby" too, just kind of snapping the word "sun" off the roof of her mouth. The High Violets are a Portland, Oregon-based quartet; "Sunbaby" is a song from their new CD, To Where You Are, released at the end of January on Reverb Records. The MP3 is available via the band's web site.
"Clouds" - the Submarines
No doubt if every song were in three-quarter time, the concept would wear thin, probably quickly. But as this is an unlikely development, songs that bounce along with three beats to the measure frequently carry an automatic, bonus air of wistful joy about them. The duo calling themselves the Submarines accentuate this wistful-joyful dichotomy as singer Blake Hazard's intimate, ache-laced voice is offset by a bubbly keyboard riff; likewise does the pair manage to fuse a groovy '60s vibe (I keep think I'm hearing musical allusions to early Joni Mitchell in here--hey she sang about clouds too--but they slip away when I try to pin them down) with a more somber 21st-century electronica edge. Hazard and John Dragonetti, the other Submarine, were once a couple, broke up, went and wrote a bunch of songs separately, and may now be reunited; it's kind of hard to tell from the convoluted bio posted on the Nettwerk Records site. Likewise difficult to discern is when their debut CD, called Declare a New State is coming out--sometime in the spring, it seems. In any case, "Clouds" is one of three good songs from the CD now available as free and legal MP3s on the band's site. Many thanks one more time to Bruce from Some Velvet Blog for the lead.
Monday, February 13, 2006
THIS WEEK'S FINDS
week of Feb. 12-18
"Don't Know Why (You Stay)" - The Essex Green
Previous songs I've heard from The Essex Green have had their charms somewhat blanketed by the earnest groovy-'60s vibe laid on with such love and attention that it all grew a bit thick--everything from specific guitar sounds to the character of background harmonies and the tone of flute flourishes seemed almost too studied, or maybe too precious. Or maybe it was just the songs didn't stick. But the band is back soon with its third full-length CD (The Cannibal Sea) and it sounds like things may be really clicking for them this time. "Don't Know Why (You Stay)" has the crisp swagger of a great old Lindsay Buckingham tune, building a compelling whole from the steady, knowing layering together of its various parts; when the Mamas-and-Papas harmonies come in to flesh out the chorus, they seem the perfect embellishment rather than a cute bit of retro style. And darn if I don't love to death the mysteriously engaging vocal leap taken each time on the second "I don't know why" of each chorus. Too bulky to describe in words, just listen. It's mysteriously engaging, you'll see. The new CD is due out in March on Merge Records. The MP3 is available via Toolshed (a music promotion firm).
"Sweet Heart Said" - Shelley Short
Not much of a fan of pre-fabricated Hallmark holidays, I offer a prickly-cute, offbeat sort of Valentine's Day salute, courtesy of the prickly-cute, offbeat Shelley Short. With a timeless, deep-folk melody, charming percussion, and an arresting violin accompaniment, the song clangs along with a determined stop-start-iness; it's like someone deconstructing the McGarrigle sisters. Short's new album, Captain Wild Horse (Rides The Heart of Tomorrow), is as endearingly enigmatic as the title suggests, a sometimes hypnotic amalgam of soft but often off-balance sounds, recorded in a purposeful sort of lo-fi sheen, if such a thing is possible. Short is a refugee from both art school and the Pacific Northwest who has settled for the time being in Chicago ("for no good reason," notes her bio). Captain Wild Horse is her second CD; it will be released tomorrow (Valentine's Day!) on Hush Records; the MP3 is courtesy of the good folks at Hush.
"Not Going Home" - the Elected
Glistening and stately, "Not Going Home" is a spiffy and captivating example of a new sort of rock that's been emerging here in the 21st century, a rock that merges the big and the small in subtle and distinctive ways. While taking a lot of sonic cues from the smooth pop-rock of the '70s, this is not really anything like that sort of stuff. The band's own record label refers to this song as the album's "stadium-sized centerpiece" but I really think they've got it mislabeled; it's only stadium-sized to the extent that the stadium fits onto the HDTV screen in the family room. And to be honest that's really what's so intriguing and different here. Blake Sennett and company here take an expansive melody, rig it up with layers of vocals, underscore it with a ringing, reverb-ing guitar line, and still give us something precise and intimate. Sennett's voice has a wonderful, mouthy sort of character that gives his whispery high notes an unnerving amount of depth. I can't nail this down with words, but the sonic space here is introspective rather than extroverted; even the all-but-shouted vocalizing of the song's final minute sounds personal and close at hand rather than arena-big. Sennett is Jenny Lewis's songwriter partner and guitarist in Rilo Kiley; the Elected is his side project, and the band's album Sun, Sun, Sun (Sub Pop), coincidentally or not, came out the same day in January as Lewis's more widely publicized solo endeavor, Rabbit Fur Coat. The MP3 is available via the Sub Pop site
week of Feb. 12-18
"Don't Know Why (You Stay)" - The Essex Green
Previous songs I've heard from The Essex Green have had their charms somewhat blanketed by the earnest groovy-'60s vibe laid on with such love and attention that it all grew a bit thick--everything from specific guitar sounds to the character of background harmonies and the tone of flute flourishes seemed almost too studied, or maybe too precious. Or maybe it was just the songs didn't stick. But the band is back soon with its third full-length CD (The Cannibal Sea) and it sounds like things may be really clicking for them this time. "Don't Know Why (You Stay)" has the crisp swagger of a great old Lindsay Buckingham tune, building a compelling whole from the steady, knowing layering together of its various parts; when the Mamas-and-Papas harmonies come in to flesh out the chorus, they seem the perfect embellishment rather than a cute bit of retro style. And darn if I don't love to death the mysteriously engaging vocal leap taken each time on the second "I don't know why" of each chorus. Too bulky to describe in words, just listen. It's mysteriously engaging, you'll see. The new CD is due out in March on Merge Records. The MP3 is available via Toolshed (a music promotion firm).
"Sweet Heart Said" - Shelley Short
Not much of a fan of pre-fabricated Hallmark holidays, I offer a prickly-cute, offbeat sort of Valentine's Day salute, courtesy of the prickly-cute, offbeat Shelley Short. With a timeless, deep-folk melody, charming percussion, and an arresting violin accompaniment, the song clangs along with a determined stop-start-iness; it's like someone deconstructing the McGarrigle sisters. Short's new album, Captain Wild Horse (Rides The Heart of Tomorrow), is as endearingly enigmatic as the title suggests, a sometimes hypnotic amalgam of soft but often off-balance sounds, recorded in a purposeful sort of lo-fi sheen, if such a thing is possible. Short is a refugee from both art school and the Pacific Northwest who has settled for the time being in Chicago ("for no good reason," notes her bio). Captain Wild Horse is her second CD; it will be released tomorrow (Valentine's Day!) on Hush Records; the MP3 is courtesy of the good folks at Hush.
"Not Going Home" - the Elected
Glistening and stately, "Not Going Home" is a spiffy and captivating example of a new sort of rock that's been emerging here in the 21st century, a rock that merges the big and the small in subtle and distinctive ways. While taking a lot of sonic cues from the smooth pop-rock of the '70s, this is not really anything like that sort of stuff. The band's own record label refers to this song as the album's "stadium-sized centerpiece" but I really think they've got it mislabeled; it's only stadium-sized to the extent that the stadium fits onto the HDTV screen in the family room. And to be honest that's really what's so intriguing and different here. Blake Sennett and company here take an expansive melody, rig it up with layers of vocals, underscore it with a ringing, reverb-ing guitar line, and still give us something precise and intimate. Sennett's voice has a wonderful, mouthy sort of character that gives his whispery high notes an unnerving amount of depth. I can't nail this down with words, but the sonic space here is introspective rather than extroverted; even the all-but-shouted vocalizing of the song's final minute sounds personal and close at hand rather than arena-big. Sennett is Jenny Lewis's songwriter partner and guitarist in Rilo Kiley; the Elected is his side project, and the band's album Sun, Sun, Sun (Sub Pop), coincidentally or not, came out the same day in January as Lewis's more widely publicized solo endeavor, Rabbit Fur Coat. The MP3 is available via the Sub Pop site
Monday, February 06, 2006
THIS WEEK'S FINDS
week of Feb. 5-11
"Electricity + Drums" - the Apparitions
From its almost startling, stripped-down, Frank Zappa-meets-the-Stones opening, "Electricity + Drums" picks up full-out rock'n'roll flavor, but with any number of idiosyncratic turns and shifts. I'm particularly enjoying how the song blends the straightahead ambiance of a basic, three-chord rocker while actually sneaking a lot more into its simple-seeming container. The overall sound seems familiar in a rootsy-rocky somewhat-Southern sort of way and yet also slightly off and unusual, like when you dream you're in your own house, and you know it's your own house even as it doesn't look like your house really looks. Stuff keeps happening: different vocalists show up (three of the band members sing), chords modulate, guitars churn and squeak in unexpected combinations (the band also features three guitarists). I don't think I've often for instance heard these two sounds in one song: the down-and-dirty, feedbacky, "get ready to rock" electric guitar sound at :33 and the siren-like octave accents that chime in around 2:18. They are from two entirely different rock-guitar universes. The Apparitions are a five-man band from Lexington, KY; their second CD, As This Is Futuristic, was released last month on Machine Records. The MP3 is available via the band's site.
"Sonic Parts" - Khoiba
Slow, moody electro-pop from the Prague-based quartet Khoiba (apparently pronounced ko-EE-ba). Listen to how vocalist Ema Brabcova keeps us paradoxically enveloped and off-balance through the purposeful meanderings of the song's subtle yet robust melody. The quiet verse--based around the always lovely alternation between a minor one and major four chord--appears to resist a time signature, which right away tells me that we're dealing with something interesting. (Standard-issue electronica, after all, is all about beats; beats are all about steady time signatures--in other words, a regular, symmetrical rhythm, however fuzzed-up and complicated by programmed effects.) Electronica accents, subtle at first, more up front as the song develops, are therefore used for their aural contributions, not just for their rhythms. Even as the chorus acquires a steadier beat, Brabcova's plaintive, hanging-off-the-beat, fully human voice (listen to how she lets it crack and wobble, softly but definitively, whenever it wants or needs to) dominates almost hypnotically. "Sonic Parts" is a song off the band's debut CD, Nice Traps, released in September on Streetbeat Records. The MP3 is available via the band's site. (Khoiba, by the way, is an invented name, which strikes me as a particularly brilliant move for a band in the Google era.)
"Blue Skies" - the Young Republic
I think it's safe to say that not many rock songs have begun with this particular combination of strings, flute, and drums. It sounds like a small orchestra has arrived to serenade you out your window (and here you didn't even know the sun was out and the flowers were blooming). It's a charming, earnest bit of acoustic fuss and bother, leading right into a quick, lightly-stepping piece of pop, full of expansive melodic lines and grand ensemble energy. Vocalist Julian Saporiti uses his thin, guileless voice with great verve, as if physically buttressed by all the musicians who've agreed to play along. The net effect is a rather precise amalgem of Belle and Sebastian and the Arcade Fire, but only achieved by a band not attempting specifically to sound like that at all. The Young Republic is Boston-based nonet (and how often do I get to use that word?); they once in fact had 11 members, and all are Berkee College of Music students. "Blue Skies" comes from the band's new, eight-song Modern Plays CD. The MP3 is up on the band's site. Thanks to Bruce at Some Velvet Blog for the head's up.
week of Feb. 5-11
"Electricity + Drums" - the Apparitions
From its almost startling, stripped-down, Frank Zappa-meets-the-Stones opening, "Electricity + Drums" picks up full-out rock'n'roll flavor, but with any number of idiosyncratic turns and shifts. I'm particularly enjoying how the song blends the straightahead ambiance of a basic, three-chord rocker while actually sneaking a lot more into its simple-seeming container. The overall sound seems familiar in a rootsy-rocky somewhat-Southern sort of way and yet also slightly off and unusual, like when you dream you're in your own house, and you know it's your own house even as it doesn't look like your house really looks. Stuff keeps happening: different vocalists show up (three of the band members sing), chords modulate, guitars churn and squeak in unexpected combinations (the band also features three guitarists). I don't think I've often for instance heard these two sounds in one song: the down-and-dirty, feedbacky, "get ready to rock" electric guitar sound at :33 and the siren-like octave accents that chime in around 2:18. They are from two entirely different rock-guitar universes. The Apparitions are a five-man band from Lexington, KY; their second CD, As This Is Futuristic, was released last month on Machine Records. The MP3 is available via the band's site.
"Sonic Parts" - Khoiba
Slow, moody electro-pop from the Prague-based quartet Khoiba (apparently pronounced ko-EE-ba). Listen to how vocalist Ema Brabcova keeps us paradoxically enveloped and off-balance through the purposeful meanderings of the song's subtle yet robust melody. The quiet verse--based around the always lovely alternation between a minor one and major four chord--appears to resist a time signature, which right away tells me that we're dealing with something interesting. (Standard-issue electronica, after all, is all about beats; beats are all about steady time signatures--in other words, a regular, symmetrical rhythm, however fuzzed-up and complicated by programmed effects.) Electronica accents, subtle at first, more up front as the song develops, are therefore used for their aural contributions, not just for their rhythms. Even as the chorus acquires a steadier beat, Brabcova's plaintive, hanging-off-the-beat, fully human voice (listen to how she lets it crack and wobble, softly but definitively, whenever it wants or needs to) dominates almost hypnotically. "Sonic Parts" is a song off the band's debut CD, Nice Traps, released in September on Streetbeat Records. The MP3 is available via the band's site. (Khoiba, by the way, is an invented name, which strikes me as a particularly brilliant move for a band in the Google era.)
"Blue Skies" - the Young Republic
I think it's safe to say that not many rock songs have begun with this particular combination of strings, flute, and drums. It sounds like a small orchestra has arrived to serenade you out your window (and here you didn't even know the sun was out and the flowers were blooming). It's a charming, earnest bit of acoustic fuss and bother, leading right into a quick, lightly-stepping piece of pop, full of expansive melodic lines and grand ensemble energy. Vocalist Julian Saporiti uses his thin, guileless voice with great verve, as if physically buttressed by all the musicians who've agreed to play along. The net effect is a rather precise amalgem of Belle and Sebastian and the Arcade Fire, but only achieved by a band not attempting specifically to sound like that at all. The Young Republic is Boston-based nonet (and how often do I get to use that word?); they once in fact had 11 members, and all are Berkee College of Music students. "Blue Skies" comes from the band's new, eight-song Modern Plays CD. The MP3 is up on the band's site. Thanks to Bruce at Some Velvet Blog for the head's up.
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