Ain’t nobody ever needs to doubt Jon Spencer and the Dickinson brothers’ blues. What they’re doing may be a tad less “blue†than the genre’s down-and-out Mississippi Delta roots, but Spencer, the brothers in the band and father Jim producing have been keeping the blues fresh (and let’s not forget Fat Possum Records) all of those years that your dad has fallen for those suburban guitar prophets with top-flight training and no sorrow. Granted, “That’s a Drag†is about as sorrowful as Spencer Dickinson’s blues get, but give me the sound of a night of hard livin’ over an AOR darling any day.
Peppertree
Summertime rules. And it’s got the best of the 3hive crew as we can’t seem to remember who’s posting when, who’s filling in for who when the latter who’s vacationing. But not even summer can stop us even while it’s trying to melt us all. New music everyday, or damn near close. Today’s selection is Peppertree: soaring, dramatic rock from Québec. A nice interplay between opposites (acoustic/electric, English/French, soft/loud) gives off an air of dramatic tension, without giving into overt thespianism. If you’ve been searching for Radiohead’s French Canadian cousin, you’ve found them.
Relay
Let’s get this straight from the start: the band named Relay contained herein is the one from Philly, not Delaware, Jersey, England, or (for cryin’ out loud) Utah. This Relay is a purveyor of shoegaze updated for the new millenium. Well, perhaps not that updated, but Relay are putting out some fine shoegaze in our current millenium, reminiscent of those shoegazer stalwarts from the early 90’s, Drop Nineteens (who were from Delaware, even though this is NOT the Relay from Delaware). Relay’s Type/Void EP is out on Bubblecore on August 8th.
The Hourly Radio
I get the same funny feeling in my tummy listening to The Hourly Radio as I did when I first heard Placebo. Or when I eat four packages of Ding-Dong’s then wash ’em down with a Big Gulp Coke. It tastes good instantly. I get all sugared-up and heady. But just like I keep putting away the Ding-Dong’s, I play The Hourly Radio over and over, singing along, straining to reach the high parts, and pulling off over-dramatic gestures as I pretend I’m on stage with the band. See, the problem is they’re catchier than any band should be allowed with lyrics teetering on the brink of cliché, and prance-along fun in that faux-British, just-this-side-of-pretentious way. You may think I’m being a bit flip . But I am serious. Just like Sam and I were dead serious dancing around to “Come Home” ten years ago in my basement. (Wait, I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about that was I??) Welcome to my new guilty pleasure.
Supersystem
Supersystem belt out saturated pop experiments that explode in a cacophony of colorful sound like homemade fireworks on the Third of July – y’know, because you’re too excited to wait for the Fourth. Any of these earnestly analytical numbers (“White light, white light!/what butterflies are made of!â€) is perfect music for kids in the gifted/talented program (is there still such a thing?) who just can’t stomach what Disney Radio is feeding them. Then there’s “Everybody Sings,†which, apart from being the most emphatic social outcast song this writer’s heard in a good spell, with its mega-dubbed chorus, vaguely surf-rock guitar and amped afro-beats takes current Top 40 sensibilities to a gleeful extreme. It’s like something that Justin Timberlake might record…if he was freakin’ awesome!
Snowden
Little did I know in my struggling years as a young(ish) shoegazer back in the early 90s that one day bands would be labelled “post-shoegaze” as a badge of honor. Atlanta’s Snowden have been given that tag, but there’s oh so much more to them than just that. Pop and rock are equal parts, and they use a special technique that my friend Mike G taught me after our band broke up many years ago. I was complaining about the stuff I was doing on my own, and his wise advice was to throw on more reverb and more distortion. The result was fantastic. Snowden have taken that same advice. Their debut album comes out August 22nd, and their EP can be downloaded from their website.
The Stevenson Ranch Davidians
It’s hot, it’s Sunday; let’s get spiritualized. Today I’m happy to point you to four psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs by The Stevenson Ranch Davidians. Theirs is the church of psychedelia and they seem intent on taking their congregation on a trip back to the Summer of Love, ’67 style. They make no apologies for inhaling the effects of the British Invasion, shoegazing, and the music atmosphere of Los Angeles in the late sixties. In fact they’re poised to join the pantheon of L.A. neo-psychedelic bands such as Rain Parade, Mazzy Star, The Dandy Warhols, Brian Jonestown Massacre and Beachwood Sparks. Is it any coincidence I whipped up a batch of grape Kool-Aid for the kids this morning? I think not. Bottom’s up!
Boris
While I love Aquarius Records for their wonderful staff recommendations, I tend to glaze over whenever they ramble on about some Norwegian death metal band or one of their other bizarre sub-sub-sub-genre obsessions. One such act I’d been sleeping on is Boris — filed under “sludge / psych / doom / dirge / drone metal” by the heads at Aquarius. What a fool was I… Sure, they live up to “Japan’s answer to the Melvins” (another Aquarius line) just fine, but stashed between the rabid, big bully numbers sounds are careful, almost vulnerable, epics that build on the legacy of Flying Saucer Attack or even My Bloody Valentine. These two tracks are perfect examples (if you came looking for the headbanger bits, you’ll have to buy the albums). At times, Boris are not at all what you’d expect from a record label whose website features flames as the mouseover animation for its navigation. Then again, a “pink album” doesn’t really fit the genre either — so?
Midlake
Midlake’s debut album, Bamnan and Slivercork, has spent the last two years flying well below the radar. Not as quirky as Grandaddy and less pretentious than Radiohead, Midlake gently nudged their way, sonically and alphabetically, between those two bands in my music collection. With the recent unveiling of their new album, The Trials of VanOccupanther, in stores July 25th, Midlake won’t be able to avoid the spotlight for much longer. For the most part they’ve ditched the keyboards replacing them with more guitars, acoustic and electric, as well as more vocals. The resulting sound boldly embraces the country/folk rock of the mid-70s as Midlake channels the likes of The Eagles and Fleetwood Mac. Midlake wears their influences on their sleeves while managing a classical, button-down sound all their own.
*A note on the downloads: with the exception of “Roscoe” all links point to .zip files containing the MP3s so you won’t be able to preview them directly. They’re all worth downloading. Trust me.
The Floor Is Made of Lava
You Americans reading and asking yourself “Is that what they really think about us?”, apparently the answer is yes. The Floor Is Made of Lava is possibly named after a Simpsons quote and in the funny and moshable “Told Her I’m From Compton” they name-drop Camaros and Kodak moments, among other things. One look at the Kodak moment to the left and you’ll agree that these guys wouldn’t want to find themselves in Compton, even in a Camaro. But that’s OK, because whether the crazy Copenhagen kids are taking the piss out of us or just having themselves some fun, their bouncy chords and goofy lyrics come across as a post-pop Ween for expats. So turn it up, turn your sensibilities off and hide your sister (see song 2).