While Daniel Ahearn’s group project, Ill Lit, was one of our earliest posts, they never really enjoyed proper coverage on this site. Now’s the time to make up for such an oversight. Ahearn emerges with a solo EP almost two years after Ill Lit’s self-released album, Tom Cruise. To be honest, it’s not much different from Ill Lit’s electro-tinged americana sound. That’s a good thing. The difference is Ahearn wrote the songs on Pray for Me By Name so that he felt comfortable playing them alone with an acoustic guitar. Rather than painting himself into a corner, this restraint, this simplification allows Ahearn to create a small masterpiece in “Down for the Count.” A gritty keyboard groove opens the song with a bounce, then smoothes out giving way to a soft, sweet, soaring chorus. Don’t let the gentle tone fool you. Ahearn couches both the ups and downs, the sunshine and the Santa Anas, of West Coast living in one friendly tune.
Mass Solo Revolt
Time to hit Athens again with the indie rock of Mass Solo Revolt. Other reviewers, publicists, and music sources bring up the apparent 90’s indie rock influences of MSR, listing off the obvious suspects, but what else would one expect of a band that grew up on said influences? MSR, though, aren’t content with just mimicing; they have an earnestness that shows they’re doing what they want to do. The Flaming Lips, Dinosaur, Jr., Superchunk, The Wedding Present, and (personal fave) the Grifters have been known to have that effect on impressionable young ears.
Twin Tiger
I recently caught the last hour or so of the classic documentary Athens, Georgia Inside/Out. That LP was probably the most used vinyl of the summer between high school graduation and my freshman year of college, Love Tractor and Pylon being two of my faves at the time.
Athens has continued to be an almost non-stop source of bands over the years, of all types and sounds, so it’s natural that the pysch-tinged, shoegaze-influenced rock of Twin Tigers would hail from the capital of alterna-rock, forming, playing, putting out an EP and touring from Georgia to Texas to Michigan, all in about 6 months. Ah, the innocence of youth, making music the way they want to, and seeing what happens. That’s Athens for you.
Joe Pug
There’s been a fair amount of turmoil in my life of late: relocation from The Big Northeastern City to The Little Southern City, new job, first house, first child—basically we’ve inadvertently fit all of the major milestones of adulthood into about a 12-month span. It’s got me a little out of sorts, which may explain why I’ve gravitated more than normal toward singer-songwriters. Surely I’m softening in my mid-30s, but there’s just something about an acoustic guitar and a single voice that brings focus to my overactive mind. Joe Pug’s voice and guitar have a particular resonance in this regard. Pug is a Chicago carpenter by day and a troubadour by night. He possesses the eyes, mop, and even a hint of the vocal cords of a young Bob Dylan. More importantly, he possesses the strumming fingers and lush songbook of an all-American folk singer. In Pug’s hard plucking, exaggerated choruses, and lyrical vignettes you can draw a pretty straight line from Woody Guthrie to Bob Dylan to Johnny Cash to Bruce Springsteen to Steve Earle to Josh Ritter. Like all of them, Pug is a populist at heart, a singer who can’t help but talk about all of us when he sings about himself and can’t help but sing about himself when he’s talking about all of us. I’m a sucker for a good line and this one from “Hymn #101” is one of my favorites right now: “I’ve come to meet the sheriff and his posse/ to offer him the broad side of my jaw/ I’ve come here to get broke/ and maybe bum a smoke/ we’ll go drinkin’ two towns over after all.” It could just be a comic-tragic put-on and you probably have to feel some turmoil yourself to truly appreciate it, but “Hymn #101” is full of lines that will fill you with both heartbreak and euphoria. It’s good to be reminded that that’s why we listen to music in the first place.
Reeve Oliver
Did you notice? Reeve Oliver’s initials are R.O., the first two letters in the word “rock.” You know where I’m going with this don’t you? Well, they do! They rock like alternative radio circa the late ’90s when bands like Foo Fighters were ruling the airwaves and alternative radio wasn’t all that alternative any more. Reeve Oliver is one of those no-it’s-not-a-dude-but-the-name-of-their-band bands from San Diego who recently recorded their second album courtesy of a major label only to have the major label back out of the deal. Luckily, the band was able to get control of the record so it didn’t end up getting shelved, out of sight, out of mind for years. A few songs on this new album are re-recordings of previous releases, the band wisely choosing to spend big money production on their strongest songs, e.g. “Yer Motion.” I dig the band’s oh, so tasty melodies, melodies you wouldn’t usually hear on a rock record. They remind me a lot of Erik Voek’s lithe vocal melodies, a genius, under-the-radar pop recluse that I can never get enough of. And really, when you’ve got a secret weapon like O. (Olivelawn, Fluf) up your sleeve it’s pwnage time. Play often, play loud, play now.
Man Plus
Seattle’s Man Plus is kind of like 3hive–a bunch of dudes, one girl and all about the music. When I run low on musical suggestions, I tend to stream KEXP radio when I wake up in the morning and when I did just that recently, I came across this. I was very happy about this find. I have to give much love to the good people at KEXP for always throwing up something new, something smart and being profound musical locavores. To my ear, Man Plus is definitely music from the Pacific Northwest. I have no idea how one really defines “music from the Pacific Northwest” in 2008–but I’m feeling like it has to be part rock out music, part semi-impenetrable lyric (see: “I want to be the number 12”) and, of course, part unrestrained angst (see: all those gloomy pretty guitars attended to by the tendency to move from pretty singing to expressive yell-singing). It has been the soundtrack to this gloomy but sweet morning, and to many others.
Pretty Good Dance Moves
P.G.D.M. will, as the title implies, keep the dance floor packed at the silent disco. It’s fitting because the electronic instrumentation approximates The Postal Service while the lovely female vocals will be a warm wooby for fans of Cat Power and Bat for Lashes – in other words, it’s great music for dancing with yourself, even when you’re dancing with the masses. I’m giving the band short shrift with such simple comparisons because I’m in a hurry today, but I ask—nay, admonish—you to not give them short shrift yourself, because beats like these don’t often come with such pretty and smart heartstrings attached.
Honey Claws
As most of the music world heads to Austin, Texas this week for the annual South By South West music festival I’m stuck here in my front bedroom doing the virtual bar crawl hunting for something new to listen to and re-living past SXSWs. Honey Claws is just the sort of thing I’d hope to run into at 1 A.M. my feet weary from the walking, my head hurting from all the rocking, but these grooves would buoy me up for another couple hours. These two tracks sound a bit like Nine Inch Nails tempered and mellowed through Beck’s beatbox and microphone. The rest of the album will take you on a wild bounce deep into the heart of Austin’s freak-hop-tronic scene. Sure, that may just be the Honey Claws’ garage but bigger things have blossomed from humbler origins.
SXSW showcase: Wednesday night @ 115 Club.
Rademacher
Really? Has it really been two a half years since Rademacher first appeared on 3hive? This foursome, led and driven by Malcolm Sosa, continues to mature, while still doing their own thing, man. Yes, they’ve made some changes over the years–style, personnel–but they still have their independence, their quirkiness, and an ear for a good tune, finally releasing their first full-length Stunts in December 2007 after three earlier EP’s.
Original Post 8/24/2005:
Okay, there are three good things that come from Fresno, Californ-I-A, and no, not one of the three is Cher. My old lady (oh crap, she’s gonna read this, make that my young bride, to quote my father-in-law) hails from Fresno, as do Let’s Go Bowling and Rademacher. The relative isolation of the Central Valley has allowed the young ones of Rademacher to develop their own take on indie rock that is intense, melodic, and original while being vaguely familiar. The first song is from their new EP out this fall.
Under Electric Light
Danny Provencher began making music as a child secretly singing over records (something I still do, not so secretly, as a full-grown man, often over records I only hear in my head). At some point he committed his music to record, leaving out, ironically, his vocals. The earliest recording as Under Electric Light features four synth-pop instrumentals that sound like a mix between early Depeche Mode beats awash in New Order melodies. From my not-so-scientific investigation, Provencher didn’t come out of the proverbial vocal closet until about three years later. The result is a clean, dreamy, earnest style free from any bells and whistles, content on remaining inconspicuously, well, great—and entirely timeless within the window of the last four decades. “Wintertime” is nothing less than a small epic worthy of ushering out this current season, while leaving the listener wanting more: oh, play that chorus again, please! “This Moment” fills that gap by repeating its gorgeous, soaring chorus once. Oh well, I’ll just have to listen to them for the fifteenth time. Pull my leg.