Grey gray day. My dad always laments days like this are "raw, goes to your bones" before he shudders and saunters off to find his Smartwool socks. Need something lonely and brittle, dustings of bitter cocoa powder on plinking ivory keys. Journeyman Damien Jurado, with a hollow call and slow turns over his shoulder. That'll do it.
This wasn't a first listen in love experience for me. Mariam Wallentin's deep, almost asexual vocals - peppered with yelps, keens and scatting - weirded me out. Husband Andreas Werliin's spooky, roiling percussion made me paranoid. Add the backing vocals of the Schola Cantorum Reyjavik Chamber Choir and I'm practically walking up the stairs of the Bates mansion.
Then I told myself to be cool for once in my life and got in the campfire circle of Swedish husband and wife's August release, Rivers.
The University of Gothenburg music school dropouts have an incredible talent for maintaining tension in their music. Experimental, native rhythms, abstract storytelling and, clearly, jazz press the record in to being. Attention is easily drawn to the lyrical imagery sung by Wallentin, who's classically trained voice morphs to whatever shape the song calls for. And Werliin's barely tethered kit is the binding agent, only occasionally allowed to crash down the steep grade. Incoming.
There's a good possibility I'll sway up the cloud escalator to a predetermined destination by this soundtrack, created by Zach Tillman (aka Pearly Gate Music). I think it would be downright fitting to skip up and along to toothy guitars, vocals hearkening of Leonard Cohen and pervasive percussion, tattooed by older brother Josh Tillman (singer/songwriter, Fleet Foxes percussion).
Until I executed a quick suicide bomb dive during the growling bridge. That's the good stuff right there, son! PGM is not all lilting folk, aiming from a dustier age. It does it's bit of rough-housing, though shaded by, admittedly, achingly pretty lyricism.
when we get married I think it be best if you wore that blue sweater instead of a dress -Navy Blues
yep.
A bedroom artist of sorts - the self-titled LP was written and recorded in Tillman's Seattle living room, friends and brethren pitching in where needed. The ambient sounds of an apartment; the front door opening, someone looking lazily into the fridge, are neat whispers. Maybe makes you feel like it isn't that far of a stretch to be a part of that lo-fi world, adding your claps and kneeslaps to the din. In the den. {insert groan here}
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)
It's no secret I adore old-time revival. I'll takesomething old over something new any day - and it's not just because it's all I can afford. (why isn't "a penny for your thoughts" a REAL THING? I'd be filthy rich.) Carolina Chocolate Drops know what's up, and I couldn't say it better than they already did: "Tradition is a guide, not a jailer. We play in an older tradition, but we are modern musicians."
So I'll hush up quick on this one. Rhiannon Giddens, Dom Flemons and Justin Robinson assembled together under the tutelage of Joe Campbell, a then octagenarian fiddler. With a band first called The Chocolate Drops, they had their start in town squares and farmer's markets. They're now the first all African-American band to play the Grand Ole Opry. Rumor has it their live shows crackle with the whole-hearted enthusiasm of their following. Young and old, stomping and clapping like they were dancing on the dirt-packed floor of a speakeasy. Jugs and bones are used as much as banjos and guitars; snap your suspenders and hear it all on their February release, Genuine Negro Jig.
When I was a fresh young thang, I danced. I'm not talking your fingersnap with the toetap and the head bob. And I'm not talking seven years at the barre, mashing my peds into trollfeet. I mean I ardently believed wild and tribal blood sang through my veins demanding that I get down wit my bad self and do somethin. In cars, in yards, in bars, by myself, with a girl, with a boy, it didn't matter. I would just give myself over and dance the fuck out.
Now it takes a bit more before I tilt over the edge. At a stately 26, I'm not as emphatic about rhythm-inspired profuse perspiration. I can easily keep myself from hurtin nobody when frequenting shows like Fleet Foxes and Bowerbirds. But sometimes....sometimes....
Before Ellie Goulding's studio debut, Lights, she had won both the BBC Sound of 2010 poll and 2010 BRIT Award. So no pressure, right? The UK singer/songwriter partnered with Fin Dow-Smith, aka Starsmith, who produced and cowrote a few tracks. The result is a lace up of 1980's electroacoustic pop vogue and a dash of conservative folk to keep it anglo-friendly. I'm nodding my head but raising an eyebrow. Deviating from the popular chanteuse mold made for a lukewarm album reception, but I'd bet money another release or two and she'll be standing on terra firma. Or she just needs to move to Iceland or Sweden and be more readily accepted for all the ABBA she could be.
Two remixes of the *E*uphoric Starry Eyed that have me applying WD-40 to my creaky joints and snapping on sweat bands. If you listen to the second track with headphones on, your brain's gonna throb. Just looking out.
Junip, not juniper. Or Jupiter. Which is good on both counts, as I have an aversion to gin and do not have proper lung capacity to accomodate atmospheric ammonium hydro-sulfide.
But it's Junip, phew!, out of Gothenburg, Sweden and in existence since the early '90s. You'll recognize the tremolo of José González alongside Tobias Winterkorn (keyboard) and Elias Araya (drums). Gonzálezand Araya have been palling around since 14 with a shared love of hardcore metal. Meeting and jiving Winterkorn from time to time at shows sparked conversation on a different aesthetic, something more on the 60s and 70s mellow guitars and a Moog. Far from thrash, and a clear fingerpoint in the hypnotically melodic direction. A long, slow-trodden, patient direction - with their first full release, Fields, released last month after 10 years in the making.
Drift along at a North American show once they make landfall Nov. 1.
She & Him and Pete & Scarlett and Sonny & Cher and over it. Almost over it.
Jenny (Lewis) and Johnny (Rice) are (I'm) Having Fun Now, k? They are creatively young and prolifically in love and no amount of winking on Match.com will yield these kind of results. These two are genetically enabled to make you reluctantly bounce along to their surf rock homage towards kitten kisses and California. Doesn't matter if the reviews keep the indie-darling of Rilo Kiley close while casting Jonathan to the gum-stained curb. I happen to like his vocals just fine. Clearly - as it seems I played his single "So Sweet" 24 times in college. Ew. Here's winking at you, Johnny.
Hawk is the third album from the whiskey and chambord pairing of Isobel Campbell (Belle & Sebastien) and Mark Lanegan (Screaming Trees). Campbell produced, arranged and wrote all but two songs, heavily showcasing Lanegan's smoky rasp with her wispy coos skimming in the background. The odd birds still have some sexy time tension to talk about with 70's soul retro cuts, exploring past the familiar badlands of dusty-country-rock stomping grounds.
My usual goal, bolstering both "at least I barely know about ONE thing" hopes for myself and a shareworthy iTunes lib, is scoping artists on the eensiest cusp of being massively accessible. Getting ahead of the game. Like when one knows that everybody will want Lebron James at the Masters so you slate him for your fantasy football league; that sort of ESP.
Well. Lissie isn't it. The moment I started listening to Catching a Tiger, released in August, it was obvious I was two-weeks too late. Plus once you're on the Grey's Anatomy soundtrack, you're a veritable soda-pop comet. I can say that with no malice because it's quoted in her write-up, so ger'off me. Key difference being - she's impossible to dismiss. Her pipes cover a range of genres, spaghetti western gospel folk pop? Spend 39 seconds searching her online and you'll find some pretty sick live performances and insane covers (after the Cotton commercial, nice one). Like this ofKid Cudi's "Pursuit of Happiness." Not every cornsilk-haired Illinois native-come-LA lady can swill tequila and sing "roll it up, take a hit" somewhat convincingly. I like a little acid on my sugar-pops in the morning.
Allo allo. Been a bit, I know. Summer got away from me, working this new job, etc etc, in summation - I'm an ass. Of the 11 people who put money in this jukebox it's likely 3 of you are left, 1 of whom is probably my mother who feels maternally obligated and huffs disapprovingly when I use foul language.
I could grin sheepishly and scuff my toe for another hour, but what's that really gonna do, eh? I'm just gonna look you full on in the face, tell you I've missed your company, and drop in a quarter. Let's listen for a bit then catch up on life.
Inter-Be is the debut album from Peter Pisano (vocals, guitar, color) and Brian Moen (percussion, keyboards, texture). Hailing from Minneapolis, MN, the two-man band's scratchy burlap bag of quarter-life crisis sentiment sympathizes with all of us lacking definitive place in our own hellish microcosms. Pisano, a private school teacher when not writing frank lyrics, has a ragged falsetto that maintains PWC's tensile strength. Nothing like transition for inspiration. But it's Moen's Navajo-thundering percussive torrent that'll make you push the peddle a breath further as you peel away from your daytime existence.
Damien Jurado // Arkansas
Wildbirds & Peacedrums // Fight for Me
Pearly Gate Music // Gossamer Hair
White Sea // Mountaineer
Carolina Chocolate Drops // Cornbread and Butterbeans
Ellie Goulding // Starry Eyed (Monsieur Adu Remix)
Junip // Rope and Summit
Jenny & Johnny // Big Wave
Isobel Campbell & Mark Lanegan // Come Undone
Lissie // Record Collector
Jacques Dutronc // Et moi, et moi, et moi
Taken By Trees // My Boys
Peter Wolf Crier // Hard as Nails