This makes me sick! (Well, the sick feeling probably comes from the dizzying bout of Neuritis I’ve been battling for the past week. Makes typing a bit tedious.) Peeved may be a better word. Either way, I can’t believe I let 2008 lapse without mentioning my favorite EP to come our way at the end of the year. Chicago’s Loyal Divide is at once cold and earthy, shoe-gazey and trip hop, Nine Inch Nails and Autolux, Laurie Anderson and Portishead. Your not so typical post-industrial-shoe-goth if you don’t mind me taking such liberties. “Labrador” is tethered to time as the track unwinds into a chugging locomotive pace, driven by Can’s tribal basslines, until ethereal vocals hauntingly give way to a languid narrative about a dog with “blackest eyes and softest mouth / she buried her bones behind the house / she grabbed a bird trying to steal my food / she squeezed its head until it cooed.” The vocals float along through punchy bass-lines and electronic tickings and tweets as everything but the bassline drop out, then rush back in. The Loyal Divide creates the most compellingly textured music I’ve heard from a new artist in some time.
Wintermitts
Wintermitts is a quartet from Vancouver, that inexplicably chipper Canadian raintown that is lax on the doobie laws and serious about its pop music. Wintermitts is so serious that it features accordion and flute regularly and bring in horns, harmonica, melodica, and even glockenspiel for extra-special occasions. If that weren’t enough, they’re also serious conservationists — they gave away an Heirloom tomato seedling with their previous CD, aptly, Heirloom. But wait…there’s more. They sing in French sometimes, and sometimes is perfect because us monolinguists can enjoy how they make an octopus a symbol for true love (really, it’s not far-fetched at all once you know that octopi have three hearts) in English and then enjoy whatever blah blah blah they’re saying in French on tracks like “Petit Monstre.” Seriously, Lise Monique Oakley can be singing about emptying the litter box for all I know and I still want to grab her and say “Kiss me, mon amour!”
Eagle and Talon
I love the way “Georgia” meanders its way into my consciousness. It opens in the middle of an off-the-cuff saxophone riff, then the low-end guitar joins in and finally the sweet, laid-back double vocals of Kim Talon beckon my full attention, and unlike Odysseus I’m fresh out of beeswax, so I can’t plug up my ears to avoid certain destruction. Or certain seduction in this case. There’s a bit of nostalgia at work for me with Eagle & Talon. I love Kim’s double-voice work like I loved Julie & Gretchen’s vocals in Mary’s Danish, although Eagle and Talon’s low-fi, earthy production and their stop/start rockin’ and slowin’ recall Sleater-Kinney’s red light, green light energy. Lyrically, Eagle and Talon cover all stages and consequences of desire, from the lead up in “Hot Caught” to the act in “One Lark;” then you’re living with the product of that desire from birth, “Georgia,” through high school, “Ice Life.” Eagle and Talon provide an alluring soundtrack to the entire cycle.
The Hush Now
A couple of weeks ago, I was putting together some mix CDs for my wife for her birthday and, as usually happens, I loaded them up with Hall & Oates. She likes them. I say I don’t. Yet the truth is that not only is there an H&O song that is indelible in our romantic history, but those goofy-looking dudes wrote some pretty fine pop songs. There, I said it. The Hush Now said it, too. The poppy quartet is fronted by Noel Kelly, who almost died listening to Queen and who draws on The Apples in Stereo and Built to Spill, among others, for comparison to their frenetic power chords and his own melancholy tenor. But, for all of their “indie-pop-shoegazer†(their words, not mine) name-dropping, it’s that touch of Darryl and John that gets me every time.
Sam Bennett
Sam Bennett’s music is for the post-sarcastic, post-ironic believer in &mdash what did Obama call it? oh yeah — the audacity of hope within all (some? a few?) of us. As Detroit lurches towards extinction right down the expressway from my house, I’m thinking the honest, upbeat, youthful dreaminess of this British singer-songwriter will temper the total depression that’s surely going to soak southeast Michigan. (Either that, or a huge meteorite will blast us into oblivion; right now, I’ll take Bennett’s positivity instead.) Listen to “I Love” first to get a sense of what to expect, then check out “I Am A Lighthouse” if you’re still into it. And for those of you who are all snarky, who live in a state where the unemployment rate is lower than a typical mortgage rate, for those of you who are still listening to that which celebrates our impending darkness, don’t even bother. Personally, I think we need more lighthouses among us.
We Landed on the Moon!
Sometimes you just need to dance when you’re sweeping the kitchen floor. Sometime you just need to bounce in your seat on a long drive home. Sometimes you just need to let this Baton Rouge band fill your ears with their dance-y take on 90’s rock after spending time digging through your old shoegaze albums to get your head back to reality. And sometimes I talk about myself in the second person.
Love Grenades
This track is a gem among gems on the new Accidental Rhythm compilation curated by Jason Eldredge and Jeremy Wineberg, a couple L.A. lads who are all that and a bag of chips. Hickory BBQ, my current fave. Need to spice up your life? Then boogie on down to this saucy track. This thing is all groove: brown chicken, brown cow! (What’s the lead-in to that punchline?) and as classic as anything off Thriller, without all that Neverland baggage. Instead you get the gorgeous and sultry Liz Wight. Priceless. I should stop gushing now. If you’re in L.A. you can judge for yourself—they’re playing the Echo the next two Fridays.
The Gay Blades
Clark from The Gay Blades sat down and recorded this song a few days after he heard that Paul Newman had passed away. He, like myself and many others, thought Paul Newman was about as good as actors, and men, got. Perhaps he just wanted to remember Newman or perhaps he wanted to offer a eulogy. Whatever it was, he picked well. In Cool Hand Luke Newman sang “Plastic Jesus†to mourn the death of his mother. Clark sings it as much more of a celebration, which you get the feeling would have suited Newman just fine.
Frank Hoier
There’s nothing like a good protest song. There are plenty such songs—heck, whole bands, that just aren’t any fun. They take themselves so seriously and make music for people with no sense of humor or joie de vivre. That ain’t me, ‘coz I get the joie, baby! So does Frank Hoier. I bet if he watched the U.S. Vice Presidential debate last night, he started strumming “Jesus Don’t Give Tax Breaks to the Rich†about halfway through. And I bet if his bandmates the Weber Brothers were there with him, they started strumming and picking right along. And I bet that if anyone else was there, they all clapped and stomped their feet and sang along. And I bet instead of getting angry at the people who might rule the free world in a couple of months, they all smiled, laughed, and felt the joie!
Rickolus
You reap what you share. Here’s proof. A reader tipped me off to this prolific Floridian after encountering Radical Face on 3hive. Something’s obviously been brewing off the coast down there in Jacksonville, FL. Rickolus is one Richard Colado, who sings for the band The Julius Airwave, and he can’t seem to sit still for long. Below are songs from each of his five albums, recorded in as many years, with probably double the friends (including Ben Cooper AKA Radical Face). The recordings are inspired both thematically and sonically by everything from Colado’s children, video game music, anime, friends, to his own backyard. Winter’s Daughter is an intimate and introspective epic fable of, presumably, Colado’s children. American Backyard has a certain back-porch-folksy feel, Video Game Birthday Party’s darkly festive mood depends heavily on Casios and Korgs, and Soundtrack… predictably, but not disappointingly, sounds more cinematic. With the exception of the latter, Colado’s melancholic vocals accompany most of the songs. The quality and quantity of Rickolus’ music is worth way more than the word-of-mouth plug I’m offering here. And considering every song from every album is yours for the sharing it wouldn’t hurt donating a dime or two when you drop by for more downloads.