Mona and Anar were destined to make this music together. That’s the only explanation of how they can (seemingly) effortlessly create such beautiful, personal, intimate, and delicate music. Their second LP The Hot Summer is out now, again self-released; why there aren’t labels lining up to get their John Hancocks on the dotted line is beyond me.
Original Post Sept 17, 2007:
Travels is the duo of Mona Elliott of the band Victory at Sea and Anar Badalov of Metal Hearts. The two met and fell in love while their bands toured together, and Mona has recently battled breast cancer. So they have quite a lot of emotion to put into their deliberate and simple music, which is full of a sense of togetherness and enjoyment that could only come from their combination.
L.A.’s Intricate Machines seem to find inspiration in their own name, taking an intricate approach in their creation of pop music. They don’t necessarily pay more attention to the details in their music than anyone else; that’s impossible to judge. It’s just that the details and textures on which they elaborate are less obvious than most. Really, it’s just my roundabout way of saying they have a roundabout way of getting to the hooks in their songs. Intricate Machines require time to soak, simmer, and settle. If you’re willing to give them that time you’ll find plenty of pleasures to sink your chops into. Considering the minute attention span of music consumers these days, Intricate Machines take a big risk attempting to break into the indie scene with less than immediate hooks. This ain’t no microwave meal; this is some slow-cooking, crock pot rock. You may have noticed I haven’t mentioned exactly what Intricate Machines sound like. This is deliberate. I don’t want to contribute to the instant-gratification impulse they’ve obviously worked hard to avoid. Enjoy the journey.
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 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!”
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.
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’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.
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.
This track is a gem among gems on the new 
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