Emmy The Great in Liverpool

After the weird rap night, I wake up on my laptop with two new albums in iTunes, a ticket to a show and a train ticket to get to that show. The albums are from Emmy The Great and the ticket for the show is the same in Liverpool. Time to go, this train leaves in two hours and the departing station is across town. What have I done, who the hell poisoned me and why is there a fork in my hand?

Next things next, the great city of Liverpool, known for that one band, funny accents, and being cold and wet. It's an unusual place where speaking understandable English is optional, but I'm not noticing so much as I'm in a rush to get to the Liverpool Guild of Students where the gig has already started. In some hall half the size of a basketball court is a quiet group of young Brits watching the last song from the opening act, Stealing Sheep, who are gypsying around with their harmoniously hippie voices on an uncommonly large stage. There's an empty bar to the left (there's booze everywhere over here) and I'm relieved I didn't miss the main course. It's a three hour train, I missed the first one by stupidness mistake and I'm anxious.

Emma-Lee Moss is more of an emanating force from a far away magical planet than an actual real-life person. That sounds like a huge over-exaggeration for such a small-framed, half-Chinese, half-English twenty-something with a wispy voice and an affinity for 90s rock music, but as it pertains to a commanding presence on stage, turning mortals into drones with wide-open paralyzed mouths, then it's just something you'll have to experience for yourself to understand.

From the moment she floats on stage, alone with her big gold necklace and freshly-paid-for Iron Maiden t-shirt, the crowd is entranced. I stare at the muscles in her thighs (I think she's a runner) just under her black skorts ('cause I'm a perv, you know that) as she pulls up her customized acoustic guitar and begins to sing like an angel. She has an Irish folk singer feel to her, but it's less country and more something else.

In fact, her first album, First Love, plays almost entirely like a folk album aside from a few progressive electrons. That's when people started to notice her east of the states, but something tells me with the newly edged-up record, Virtue, all will change for the bigger and better. It's a more well-rounded and put-together taste of dark and magical flavors occasionally dipping into melodic drones and distant pulses that take my weird mind into Fantasyland. Not a far cry, really, with her lyrics singing of fairy tales and dinosaur sex. It's deeper than it sounds.

The rest of the band comes out in this mostly sold out gig and they jam with Grace in front of what is still a quiet crowd. For some reason, even in this small place and high stage, they've filled the floor with chairs. You can either sit in one or stand by the bar in the back. I sit to be close, but I hate the idea of all that energy being strapped to a seat. The crowds in England are reserved anyway and when I look around, I'm the only soul bobbing my head. They're not bored, they've just been zombified by her spell and into it. Their wooing cheers in the relenting breaks say so. I guess I'm supposed to stare into her eyes more and not so much at her legs to get the full effect.

She occasionally jingles what looks like a dream catcher with bells and crucifixes attached to it to ward off the demons. Song after another, this is hypnotic and blissful. Em to The G are an incredible live performance and while they can be mellow, there's plenty of opportunity for foot tapping. All is taking me to a distant place and I'm thinking about the empty seat next to me where someone I know should be. Then suddenly my buzz is jolted loose by a cover of Weezer's "Island In The Sun" (RIP Mikey Welsh) and I might as well be in a Sonic drive-thru. I don't figure out this decision until later when Google tells me Emma is a huge fan. Her choice, but it doesn't seem to suit her voice or sound and I'm left with curious eyes. She could've at least chosen "Crab," instead.

Luckily, she and the band don't end there and continue on with more velvet vocal volume and my space world starts to sneak back again. In between songs, Emma tests the crowd with some throw-away one-liners you have to be listening to to catch. She's a funny girl, gifted in voice, smart with her writing, and ain't too shabby in the looks department, neitha'. I'm thinking this is one of the best shows I've seen in a while and, later on, I confirm that with my sober memories. Will I see her/them live again? Yes. Liverpool? No.

Catch ETG's upcoming Christmas thing with Tim Wheeler from Ash (whom she's rumored to be dating. Pffffsssshhhhtt). It's called Emmy The Great & Tim Wheeler present This Is Christmas and the first track sounds like, well, Ash.

Photo stolen from Facebook. LaZers added by ES out of necessity.

Emmy The Great // North
Emmy The Great // Sylvia
Weezer // Crab

Other Lives

Gut check.

I had a hard time deciding on a single to post for this band. I'd have to listen to the album in it's entirety every time and mull over "oh this one. eh, i don't know, maybe that one?" Not a bad thing. Tamer Animals, May 10 release by Other Lives on the White Iris record label {whattup Daron!}, was crafted to be an immersion experience. Fold your legs underneath you, relax into the grass, be swept away by prairie winds.

Originally collected under Kunek by founders frontman Jesse Tabish, cellist Jenny Hsu and drummer Colby Owens - Other Lives grew in the great West of Stillwater, OK. After the studio fare of their self-titled debut, the band returned to Stillwater and took things slowly {14mos., to be exact} before producer, and Beck longtime drummer, Joey Waronker tied it off with rough-hewn twine and bolts of dusty velvet. The end-result of 11 tracks are densely layered with horns, gypsy rags, ringing ivory keys and coyote guitars. There are oboes on this album. I f*cking love oboes. Seriously.

So. I went with the song that transported me the farthest and most completely.

Other Lives are playing Red Palace / DC 6.10.11. Tempting, awfully tempting.

Other Lives // Dust Bowl III

Lia Ices - the mystic

{photo by Eric Ogden}

Girlcrush alert.

Lia Ices' second effort, Grown Unknown, has the ethereal-chamber pop enchantress in storybooks. Shorter-winded than Joanna Newsom, little tougher than Enya, less quirk than Sia - Ices keeps her lilting, avant vocals anchored with meaty guitar ruminations and fist-pounds of percussion.

"Daphne" takes inspiration from the Greek myth of a woman who ultimately transforms into a tree - played out in what starts as pastoral bliss before turning to darker energies. Whatever shall become of her? The tale features Justin Vernon, whom I've indirectly posted probably 17'ish times. It's fine, I'll probably change the blog name to "JV4life" by June.
Other standout tracks include "Ice Wine" and "Little Marriage."

Just bought my tickets to see Ices at The Red Palace 3.30.11. Lots of daisy crowns to weave to between now and then.

"Daphne" by Lia Ices from Secretly Jag on Vimeo.

Lia Ices // Daphne

Sea of Bees - ocean's a-buzz

I had been eyeing the hull of the ES boat with thoughts of pulling myself back in for weeks. Stockpiling tracks and chuckling over self-amusing quips that I have, inevitably, all forgotten. Well-enough I did as they never really are as quippy as I'd like them to be once they're a day stale.

The King of Limbs put me up and over, but even before that I have been so entirely swept up in Julie Braenzinger's debut album that I knew I just HAD to start pulling the oars again. Just had to! Gorgeous vocals this side of Bjork over earnest lyrics with a folksy-sad edge. She plays all the instruments. It all sounds so confident. She's probably an alien.

The whole album goes down like a spoonful of lingonberry gelato. You'll probably hear tracks like "Willis" on Parenthood or used over a spot for nappies, but until then.
Until then, you and I can sail in the ES boat on this sea of bees.

Sea of Bees // Marmalade

Lydia Ooghe {& the Lux Vacancy}

I don't flirt nearly enough with the local scene, with the exception of my dedicated groupie-attentions to Autocue. No longer! I'm completely diverting my eyes from the PacNW and Brooklyn scene, and lay gaze solely upon RVA.

That is total horseshit malarkey, but I do intend to love on my citymates more.

This coming Sunday, Nov. 14, let's meet up for some grenache at Ipanema and check out Lydia Ooghe. Her songs are stuff of sugar and batting, helium-balloon pop on acoustic guitar and occasional pedal steel. And she looks a-freaking-dorable. By my professional estimation, she's impressing the River City with her talents and gracefully sunny stage presence. We shall see, Lydia.

See you Sunday evening cheetahbabies.



Lydia Ooghe and Lux Vacancy // Baby Yay

James Vincent Mcmorrow

A young man wanders along salt roughened Irish cliffs, returning to a cabin teetering over the sea. Over a season's change, he writes lyrical prose of ghosts and loves, towering trees and keening winds. He recalls times of great change and scrawls their desertion in rushed strokes of ink, spatters bleeding through the paper's fiber.

He returns to Dublin and squints into the glare of a life lancing forward, rushing past him as water breaks around the rock. He holds in his hand a humble EP, nothing much but a man and his words playing instruments in a solitary room. It is February of this year.

once i had a dream
once i had a hope
that was yesterday
not so long ago
this is not the end
this is just the world
such a foolish thing
such an honest girl

James Vincent McMorrow // If I Had a Boat

White Sea

After Morgan Kibby finished touring with M83, she took it upon herself to sit down and learn Pro Tools so she could write and produce this minute gem of an EP - This Frontier. Kibby is White Sea, a name that stuck after looking up her own name's meaning on a baby website. Mine means "pure maiden." That's rich.

The five tracks don't sound much like the other, and I dig it. Album cohesiveness is all good, but I like the differing urge to doo-wap to #5 and sprint in the desert to #1. Kibby was heavily influenced by disco when putting things together, making the effort to wrench herself from familiar heavy brooding to lighter, dancier faire.

And that album cover is definitely inspiring my zombie makeup for Howlyween. Care if I copy?

White Sea // Mountaineer

(pssst...like this? have the rest, and read more about my current girlcrush)

Basia Bulat

I'll admit, this image is a little outdated. It was taken a few years back when a fellow fan - dear, darling to my heart - and I went to the Devotchka show at Hat Factory, only we weren't really there for Devotchka. Love the band of gypsies, don't doubt it for a minute. But we were REALLY there for a flaxen-haired Canadian woodsprite who sings like you should go to church and consider yo'self in this world - because even when she's not singing gospel she might as well be. That's how much truth rings out in Bulat's vibrato-laden voice as she claps, stomps, strums and sways - oft with autoharp in arms.


But I was THERE, man! From the beginning! Her debut followup, Heart of My Own, benefits from a little bomb-pow courtesy of Howard Bilerman (Arcade Fire's familiar). The mountains of instrumentation can sometimes overwhelm, but if you get out breath, make it to "Hush."

Listen and confess your sins. If you have to. Or maybe just listen.

Basia Bulat // Heart of My Own

the Lighthouse and the Whaler

You're thinking Maine or Rhode Island, right?
Nor'easter boys who ran among conifers, found guitars with partially rotted soundboards. Violins with sprung catguts and cast-off splintery drumsticks.
They busted out from obligatory tea times on Martha's Vineyards; throwing bowties on the ground and taking up their misfit instruments.
Instinctively following their fingers to colorful, eccentric, grassroots sounds and easy harmonies while looking out over the grey Atlantic.

Well - sorry charlie, they started in a field in Ohio and really just happen to like the tome of Moby Dick. But dream what you want to dream, I'm not going to tell you you're ridiculous until it's entirely necessary.

The Lighthouse and the Whaler // Under Mountain, Under Ground

Pink Mountaintops

If you're looking for 70s-inspired-sex-in-your-pants rock ballads and jams, Pink Mountaintops is where your journey shall end. Uniquely raw guitars forming experimentally challenging melodies make my feet itch. In a good way. Here's a fake interview I had with lead singer, Stephen McBean. The latest album, Outside Love, is a must-have for the must-havers.

ES: So, I'll just cut to the chase here. There's a shit-ton of sexual innuendo in your music. Where does that come from?

McBean: I fuck mountains.

ES: So...you're just a sexual person then?

McBean: I'm living the single life.

ES: Ok, so does that mean you get around so to speak?

McBean: I came all over myself.

ES: Whoa, dude, what are you doing? This is a family blog. What the hell is wrong with your penis?

McBean: You can suck out the blood.

ES: Alright, we're done here you sick fuck.


Pink Mountaintops // Vampire
Pink Mountaintops // Single Life
Pink Mountaintops // I Fuck Mountains
Pink Mountaintops // Rock 'N Roll Fantasy

Execution Video

Holly Miranda

I've talked about her before and I'll talk about her again. Holly has a new EP out called Sleep On Fire and it's not bad. I'm pretty sure this is a prelude to something much bigger, but that's only an educated hunch. And if you know me, you know my educated hunches are worth millions. Sometimes hundreds. Or ones. I've been following this lass for the past few several months. Her progress that is, not her physically. Come on, seriously? You really think I'd...no you shut up. Right...following her. I do believe she's getting much better. My EH tells me she'll be a household name in the music world very, very soon.

This is really bullshit because it's real. Listen for yourself.

Holly Miranda // Everytime I Sleep

A little short. Well it's 17:40, but it's worth it. Is it me or is she the devil? In a good way. A good way.

Holly Miranda

Once again, I owe Rexy for turning me onto another vocal vixen. This lollipop is the front woman for The Jealous Girlfriends, a four-topper from Brooklyn with all kinds of magical sounds inside. Holly’s chops were made for blasting out bone chilling melodies. Whereas mine were made for biting the plastic off of CD cases. She reminds me of Chan Marshall (Cat Power) with a tad more volume (although not really here). Even has a similar haircut. If you look around, you’ll find her belting out an inspired version of Elliott Smith’s Between The Bars somewhere. Which, in my opinion, is his best and one of my all-time favorites. Just sayin,’ if ever I happen to accidentally run into said vixen on the street in front of her house, there could be roofies and marriage involved.

This is her with Prince. Hahaha. Jk, jk. LOL ;P LMFAO ====D----. Actually, it’s Kyp Malone from TVOTR. And it’s pure gold. Surely, this talented damsel will conquer the world soon.

Slow Burn Treason


Jealous Girlfriends - Organs On The Kitchen Floor

See?

SoKo - I’ll Kill Her

Thanks to my dear friend Rexy for turning me onto this adorable French gem. I realize this video is almost 2 years old and already very popular (I can’t be on top of everything), but that doesn’t make it any less awesome. Besides, after watching, I feel it’s my obligation, my duty, to promote the death of this boyfriend stealer SoKo is referring to. She’s obviously a whore.