Leave it to Kid Koala to roust me from my blogging negligence…well, Koala and friends. DJ extraordinaire Kid Koala and indie hip-hop producer Dynomite D had been working on the score to a documentary D’s cousin Jay Rowlands was making about an obscure ’70s psych rock band called The Slew. Known mostly among obsessive record collectors, who pay as much as $1000 for a copy of the band’s only album, Dust Collector, of which there are only 50 copies in existence. The documentary got shelved as enigmatic frontman (didn’t you just know there was an “enigmatic frontman” in this story?) Jack Slew backed out. Koala and D already had already remixed and retooled a lot of The Slew’s material. When Chris Ross and Myles Heskett, the former rhythm section of Wolfmother, heard the tracks, they offered to help perform the tracks live so the music could be heard by more ears. So this fall, they’re taking their show (reportedly involving six turntables) on the road, which is the only place where you can get this soundtrack-to-a-non-existent-movie-featuring-remixes-of-tracks-you’ve-probably-never-heard-before-by-a-band-you’ve-probably-never-heard-of-before, simply titled 100%.
Check Kid Koala’s site for tour dates. (Looks like the closest it’s coming to the Motor City is Chicago…or the Detroit Bar in Costa Mesa).
The Raveonettes
I don’t think I’ve been this excited about demos before. The Raveonettes last album Lust Lust Lust engendered exactly that in my aural cavity. Their fuzzy washes of surf guitars and garage rock immediately balmed the ever-present ringing in my ears and Sharin and Sune still lull me to sleep at night with their addictively sweet melodies. They’re so good that I don’t mind when I awake in the morning wrapped in headphone chord. Dangerous? Yep. Worth it? You bet. The tentatively titled “Last Dance” perfectly captures my fascination with these Danes: from the opening line (which I wish I’d written), “Your lipstick smeared sad,” to the Beach Boys-ish woo-woos in the background, to the theme of the song itself (Sune succinctly explains it: “how drug addiction interferes with love”). My addiction to The Raveonettes hasn’t interfered with my love life, rather with Alisa’s sleep patterns, specifically when the wall of guitars rush in between verses of their track “Hallucinations” and bleed from my ears. It hurts oh so good.
Brian Olive
Since I missed the ’70s and blindly followed the “Proud to be Drug Free” crowd in the ’80s, Brian Olive is filling in the blanks for me. If I fell asleep to this record I’m sure I’d dream myself into New Orleans sometime in the ’70s, chemical high and all. The music is as colorful as the album cover, and sounds like a stack of beatnik, jazz, and psychedelic records melted into one soundtrack to a ’70s brown-hued television show. I think I’m gonna need a brownie.
(by our friend Emily M.)
Son Volt
Oops. Looks like I missed posting anything in the month of May. Ah, how one gets lost. Which I guess is an apt comparison to my relationship with Son Volt. For an album or two in a previous century, Jay Farrar had what I was looking for. Grit, wistfulness, steel guitar. And then there was Wide Swing Tremolo, and I don’t know. When I saw that Son Volt had a new album out an a free and legal MP3 to post, my first though was something along the lines of hoping this track, “Down to the Wire,” was a Neil Young cover. It’s not, but after listening to it a few times, that’s o.k. Maybe American Central Dust, out in about a month, will offer a way back to Son Volt.
The Boy Koan
Sonically, my Memorial Day weekend has been marked by the sizzle of meat, screams and splashes from kids in the pool, and the hearty blaring of these two tracks from the nearest sound system and my own vocal chords. New York’s The Boy Koan has me geeked to start summer, or maybe I’m just geeked for summer to start. One thing’s for sure, I’m geeked on The Boy Koan—they’re the first band that I’ve ever asked to send me their lyrics. On second thought, that may simply say more about my thorough lack of thoroughness. I get the same tingly sensations from “Beasts from More Rustic Days” as I did when I first heard Grandaddy’s Under The Western Freeway. And “My Russian Doll” fires up pogo reflexes with its ’90s new wave gang vocals giving way to Mark E. Smith-like lackadaisical lilting on the bridge. It’s hard to believe this is the band’s first recorded efforts and that the usual purveyors of all things indie between here and there haven’t been giving this sleeper of a debut more blog space. I’d be surprised if the lack of coverage lasted long.
The Layaways
My last few posts have featured up-jump-and-boogie tracks and it’s high time I settle down a bit before I hurt myself. The Chicago trio, The Layaways, a perennial favorite ’round these parts, return after dropping their festive Christmas EP more than two years ago. Their laid-back, ’60s era sounds are absolutely delightening. Yes, they’re so good that they induce spontaneous neology. On “Keep it to Yourself” they flavor their guitars with just a pinch of fuzz, a dash of reverb, and a sprinkle of backwardness. They turn up the jangle on “All Around the World” and their tag-team vocalists provide a subtle depth to this new full-length, available, by the way, in its entirety on their site in full share mode. Good peeps them Layaways boys. I hope they don’t mind me adding my favorite track, “Come Back Home.” It evokes a hot, languid California Summer circa 1967. Dig it.
One last note, The Layaways’ guitarist, David Harnell, writes the blog Digital Audio Insider, a must read for any DIY band navigating their way through the digital music world.
Keep it to Yourself [MP3, 4.5MB, 192kbps]
All Around the World [MP3, 4.7MB, 192kbps]
Come Back Home [MP3, 6.3MB, 192kbps]
Photons
Photons will be releasing three EP’s this year, the first of which is Glory!, out tomorrow via Insound.com. “Where Were You Last Night” continues the raucous party, still with bassoon.
Original Post Oct 20, 2008:
In trying to figure out what to write about San Francisco’s Photons, I had several paths in mind. Working in the musical history of the city by the Bay, or coming up with something witty about their eclectic pop. Then I remembered the line from the top of their Myspace page that says all you need to know before downloading and listening: “Now with Bassoon!”
Superchunk
Paul Young left a comment on my last 3hive entry — a Julie Doiron re-post — that said, “Yo JC! Paul Young wants to hear about the new Superchunk album.” While I don’t remember Paul speaking of himself in the third person while a student in my class, he is somewhat of a legend in the halls of a certain suburban Detroit public school. And so, it is with much pleasure that I comply with his wishes and dish up a track from what has been maybe the second most important band in my own life. Without Superchunk, I’d be a fraction of the poet I am, and way more boring too. So Paul, I’m glad you’re alive, and thanks for asking. “Misfits & Mistakes,” appropriately titled for both of us, I think, sounds like 1990 all over again, but instead of being the secret bonus track behind “Brand New Love,” it’s new. Leaves in the Gutter, an EP released this month, is the band’s first fresh spin since Paul was in 8th grade. So here you go; let me know what you think, and say hi to Laura for me.
Obits
More rock ‘n’ roll ashes rise! This time the demise of Hot Snakes (itself touting an impressive ancestry) and D.C. underdogs Edsel gives way to Obits, a collision of East and West Coast post post punk. For a bunch of guys who’ve been there and done that Obits maintain a surprising freshness. Rick Froberg continues his sneering vocal attack—imagine Mick Jagger singing for The Germs. Musically, the band takes its cues from, well, wherever it wants to. Sped up surf riffs dominate “Pine On.” One sound remains constant throughout: good old-fashioned rhythm ‘n’ blues. Nowadays we call it rock ‘n’ roll. It never goes out of style.
Jarvis Cocker
Jarvis Cocker. The man needs no introduction, does he?