Merge Records has this up-and-comer named Conor Oberst. Have you heard of him? He’s been in all sorts of bands or something. Now he’s releasing a self-titled album, which would make you think that it’s just him and a guitar but really he has this group called the Mystic Valley Band, which is a trip because it’s talking about the valley in Mexico where the album was recorded when you would think, from listening to “Danny Callahan,†that it was recorded in a not-so-mystic valley closer to Oberst’s hometown of Omaha, Nebraska. Much of the album has that same vibe: reflective roadhouse ballads with rousing instrumentation and lush lyricism. This Conor Oberst fella writes some decent songs. He might just have a future. You heard it here first.
Cameron Latimer
The backstory to this post is that there’s an Eagles album in my old Sony 5 disc changer, and while I’ve been loving it I’ve also wanted to hit up some country rock that’s a little more recent. Jesse over at Killbeat Music in Vancouver, BC, didn’t know this, but he sent Cameron Latimer’s upcoming album Fallen Apart anyway. Perfect. Latimer is a Canadian music veteran, with background in a mess of genres. That said, he sticks to the roots on his solo debut, and offers up a strong set of steel guitar-soaked bar tunes, full of heartbreak and prairie light. While the available download, “Empty Saddle,” is heavy on the C&W, there’s a lot of shuffle and slide on the other tracks on Fallen Apart, making Cameron Latimer’s work a nice indie accompaniment to Henley, Frey and the other guys.
O’Death
And here comes another one from the department of better late than never… I think for a long time I was resistant to listening to O’Death because, well, from my brown girl New Yorker perspective “Appalachia Punk” seemed a little far flung. Well, this week is a time for changes and a week for realizing that we are all ready to stop thinking inside our little boxes. I bought a message t-shirt that says “Obama Mama”, I signed on to O’Death’s frenetic mixing of seemingly discordant genres. Times are a-changing. But really in the end, labels mean nothing. This twanging and yelling and somber tone really just throws me back to the good old Tom Waits days. And we liked them days. Three cheers to the Tie Fighter and his fantastic quinoa-making roommate for making me see the O’Death light.
Bowery Boy Blue
If it’s possible to have a father figure whom you’ve never actually met, Neil Young is mine. Ever since I can remember, he’s taught me some valuable lessons just by picking (or swinging) at his guitar, blowing into his harmonica, and singing in that sweet, cracked falsetto. You get the sense that Bowery Boy Blue has learned a lot as well. Zeb Gould (who, with his wife Megan, also makes music as Stereofan) certainly borrows from Young’s catalog for both his quieter moments and for his way with guitar fuzz. But he’s equally enamored, as with Will Oldham and many of his kind, with the gothic roots of Americana. The result is songs that are somber, heartfelt, and sublime.
The Strugglers
Brice Randall Bickford II + friends + Carrboro, NC = The Strugglers. It’s all about location, right? Grab the finely aged “Goodness Gracious” and bask in a little Southern twang & steel guitar — warm, sad sounds, protective like an grown-up version of your childhood blankie. Like he sings in the song: “Don’t you know what will happen with you staring at the world like this?” Or download “Morningside Heights,” the poppy, wise opening track from the band’s 2008 release The Latest Rights and get lost in the violin’s reel from down South to the Upper West Side. The Strugglers stripped down, sedate sound provide a nice reflection of place; that is, the U.S. of A.
The Felice Brothers
The Felice Brothers seem to have a good time spinning out bizarre, wistful Bob Dylan-esque songs about deals gone wrong and inevitably bad relationships. The sloppy fun of “Frankie’s Gun!” makes me wish I’d been in that studio, banging on something, making some noise as the tape rolled. Made up of three actual brothers from the Catskills — Simone, Ian and James Felice — plus “a 19 year old called Christmas,” according to the press info, these guys don’t mind playing a wrong not or two. It’s the thought that counts, right? And their thoughts seem as pure and sincere as a streetcorner singer in the middle of summer, telling everyone how it is.
Jim Bryson
Sorry I don’t have anything lovey-dovey for Valentine’s Day. Instead, here’s an update on Canadian singer-songwriter Jim Bryson, whose “Satellite” is one of my favorite 3hive songs ever. There are a few new songs from his Kelp records release Where the Bungalows Roam and a bunch of Canadian tour dates on his website, which also offers up plenty of downloadable live tracks and demos. Checking out this new material, all low-fi and laid back — I especially like “The Wishes Pile Up” — reminds me how comfortable it is to listen to Bryson. He’s like an old frind from college playing songs in your living room. How about some shows in Windsor, Jim? I’d cross the border for that.
If By the Bridge [MP3, 4.3MB, 192kbps]
All the Fallen Leaves [MP3, 5MB, 192kbps]
The Wishes Pile Up [MP3, 4.7MB, 192kbps]
Original post: 12/31/04
These long, slow, sad, and self-deprecatingly beautiful country songs from Ottawa-based Jim Bryson match perfectly with the blinding-sun, hoarfrost-covered days we had earlier in the week here in Detroit. Come to think of it, they also match fairly well with the longing-for-even-just-a-moment-of-sunlight, totally gray slush days we’re having now.
Hayshaker
“I can always tell when you’ve been a’drinkin'” — and so, Hayshaker had me from the first line of “Laurie’s Song.” Also known as the Rider family from Waycross, GA (along with a few friends), Hayshaker makes that boozy country rock you like to listen to when you’re totally supposed to be doing something else. Their recent EP, Black Holiday in Mexico City, offers up half a dozen and one tracks reflecting a variety of musical influences while firmly anchored in the twang of C.C. and Laurie Rider. “I can always tell when you’ve found trouble, ’cause soon that trouble comes to find me.” Yep, time to get back to work.
Barton Carroll
Due to recent relocations, I’m now the member of the 3Hive crew who’s keepin’ it real in the Dirrrty South. Yet, as it was in New York City with calling myself a “New Yorker,” I imagine it will take at least a few years before I’ll come close to calling myself a “Southernor.” And I imagine that for my friends, family, and neighbors down here, calling me a “Southernor” just ain’t gonna happen while I’m above ground. The Force runs deeply with Charlestonians. Anyhow, Barton Carroll is helping out the transition quite nicely. I’m not sure where he’s from, but Carroll is on the Birmingham, Alabama label Skybucket, and one of his songs posted here is “Brooklyn Girl, You’re Going to be My Bride,” which, even if it weren’t as optimistic and toe-tappable as it is, would have a special place in my heart because that’s the borough where my wife and I were when we got married. Thankfully, the melancholic “Pretty Girl’s Going to Ruin My Life (Again)” doesn’t have quite the same personal resonance. But with his Roy Orbison-esque falsetto and Buck Owens-esque lyrics like “Hair’s falling out and my back’s got a pain/ I been drinkin’ my Scotch in my truck in the rain/ I think it’s fine way to spend the day,” well, it does sound like a fine way spend the day—whether in New York, Charleston, or anywhere in-between.
The Two Man Gentleman Band
I was just looking around on the Serious Business website after posting about Benji Cossa’s Christmas album when I noticed the song title “William Howard Taft.” You know, the only U.S. President to also be a U.S. Supreme Court Justice? No, no, you only remember Taft as being the fat guy, the poor sap who got stuck in the White House bathtub. Well, that’s pretty much what The Two Man Gentleman Band remembers about him too. (I actually think he was in a tough spot, following in Theodore Roosevelt’s footsteps and all. I guess I tend to feel sorry for Taft.) With their Dixieland, Tin Pan Alley, goofy slapstick kazoo-billy rock, these New Yorkers tend to have a blast in the recording studio. If you’re not one of those serious-types, check out “Prime Numbers.” It’s kind of hard not to laugh, eh?