Remember the Dutch Elms from a couple weeks ago? Remember I said I didn’t know anything about them, other than their ability to create pure pop? Well, I’ve since discovered the Dutch Elms and the Revolutionary Hydra have something in common: songwriter extraordinaire Jay Chilcote.
Lettuce Prey
Lettuce Prey is Mike Lenert, an obsessive and insanely prolific veteran of underrated pop bands (Caterpillar, Lilys) and a recurring touring band ringer for many more. So prolific is he that his music has been distributed through numerous labels and nearly every medium possible: 7-inch, 12-inch, CD, cassette, and, (lucky for us) MP3. Prolific, of course, could be a nice way of saying not every one of his 400 published songs are all that. But these here jaunts — some tender, some bizarre — split the difference between Robyn Hitchcock and Neutral Milk Hotel, proving what the man’s capable of…
Daniel Johnston
Where to begin? The liner notes to Johnston’s new retrospective/tribute pin the “Godfather of Lo-Fi” label on him. That’s a start. Name check the tribute and you’ll get a sense of the depth of Daniel Johnston’s influence: Beck, Bright Eyes, Mercury Rev, Sparklehorse, and Tom Waits. He began in the early eighties, committing simple, raw, gorgeous songs to tape (“Put My Love Out The Door”), via handheld recorder. While his production quality has improved over time, it’s never been at the expense of his primary craft, songwriting (George Lucas take note! The new Star Wars movies suck!) Daniel Johnston makes me wanna toss my computer out the window (gasp!) and never use a cell phone again. He’s proof, and hope, that the medium doesn’t have to be the message.
Saturday Looks Good to Me
Fred Thomas leads this band of Detroit’s finest, an ever-changing lineup of musicians bringing back all that was good from ’60s pop music. Reverb-drenched boy-girl vocals, the gently strummed guitars (also reverb-drenched), it’s all here. But make no mistake, SLGTM ain’t plagiarists. They add their own originality, which makes their music so refreshing. And yes, Sam, I said Detroit.
Chin Up Chin Up
“We Should Have Never Lived Like We Were Skyscrapers” is one of those cleverer-than-thou song titles that’s long, pretentious, and altogether undeserving of seriousness. Yet it’s full of chaotic meaning, the kind indie musicians strive for and then deny striving for just to keep their ambivalent cred. It’s pretty much perfect for the song itself: a burbling rush to nowhere that comes across as a math-rocky Polyphonic Spree. When I read back over that description I feel like I should hate the band, but I don’t. In fact, I think I love those crazy skyscrapers.
Palomar
Palomar make me hungry. They sing a song about my favorite cut of sushi. The song’s got so much zip it’s like getting a few, thin slices of jalapeÒo and a sprig of cilantro on your shiro maguro. If you tend towards the darker side of “pop-rock,” hit “The Planeiac.” It’s a more mature sound, no need for frills. Like the first time I walked into my neighborhood sushi bar. One look at this gaijin and they quickly said, “No rolls!” They meant business. Palomar mean business.
Tullycraft
Tullycraft warmed my heart what seems like years ago (six, to be exact) with the wood-paneled indie pop of City of Subarus. Now they’re back and cheeky as ever (see “Twee”) with Sean Tollefson’s squeaky vocals and jam-packed verses still leading the onslaught of loose, mischievous pop capers.
[Big ups to Nick C. for dropping Tullycraft in our suggestion box.]
Walking Concert
Those who were ushered into junior high by Gorilla Biscuits, into college by Quicksand, and into adulthood by Rival Schools are all too familiar with what Walter Schreifels can do with an aggressively tuned guitar and a chest full of angst. The blister-hooks of those past efforts still make an appearance here and there in his latest band (also featuring a journeyman from Salt Lake City and a freelance underwear designer — viva la difference!), but Walking Concert showcases Schreifels expanding his horizons into areas more melodic and, dare I say it, quietly retrospective. He�s grown up, and growing up still sounds just right.
Viva Voce
They say you should never go into business with your spouse, but — Jim and Tammy Faye, Sonny and Cher, Siegfried and Roy notwithstanding — here’s another reason why “they” aren’t always right. Viva Voce, Mr. and Mrs. Robinson to their neighbors, play woozy, psychedelic pop as though the ’60s were just a warmup. “Alive With Pleasure” takes their sound to even higher heights with a searing intro, which then swoops down into the lily-spotted valley that is Anita Robinson’s voice, then soars back up to the sky leaving behind a vapor trail of handclaps. Hmm, sounds like a treatment for a music video…everyone here is under non-disclosure, capice?
Racetrack
Bellingham, Warshington (as my dad would say) can just crank out pop-rock bands, while still maintaining a very high ratio of good-to-not-good bands. Racetrack, well, they help the ratio on the good side. Throwing around big hooks and a raspy guitar, this three-piece is driven by Meghan Kessinger’s steady singing, aided on their debut album by Death Cab for Cutie‘s Chris Walla. And how do Racetrack describe themselves? “Picture riding a go-kart while eating a pickle.”