With the exacting diction of Flannery O’Connor Chris Bathgate sets up a haunting scene in “Flash of Light: “There was a flash of light / followed by chaos / all the night the moon struck my backyard.” He sets up the scene again and again, each time adding different details, each time greasing our anticipation. But like a good storyteller should he never fulfills our expectations. The listener is left to fill in the details. Whichever outcome you choose is accompanied by reverberating instrumentation as feedback leaks in and additional guitars and trumpets join Bathgate’s ever forceful chords. Such crafting of songs lifts Bathgate out of the “singer/songwriter” pigeonhole. Comparisons to Will Oldham and Jeffy Tweedy do not misguide, but I would posit, based on “Every Wall You Own,” that Bathgate is also the country cousin to Eric Matthew’s smooth, orchestral pop sound.
Bathgate spends the next few months saturating his home state of Michigan (Sam, Joe I expect you’ll be making plans to attend as soon as you hear this stuff!) with his sounds. But with the exception of New York City, there are no signs yet of Bathgate making his way beyond his state borders. Looks like you’ll have to bring him home yourself. And oh! what timing! His new album “A Cork Tale Wake” is out today.
I stand corrected. I just discovered he spent the month of May in Europe with Saturday Looks Good To Me…


Andrew Lojero brings musical and visual artists together as a collection and an introduction to the prolific art movement currently unfolding in Los Angeles. Usual suspects like Madlib, Daedelus and Nobody all provide tracks under various monikers. But newcomers such as Georgia Anne Muldrow and Gaby Hernandez also make significant contributions. Lojero passed the tracks along to visual artists with the mandate to produce works of art inspired by the songs. Several of these works are provided below. No stranger to this vibrant art scene, Andrew Lojero curated this collection as he has been curating live gatherings, er, parties, legal and otherwise, all over the L.A. area: in lofts, under bridges and in warehouses. From L.A. With Love places the power to party likewise in the palm of your hand.



Ian and Lara Plunkett, recording wistful acoustic pop in Italy. At least that’s what I remember this track sounding like. I’m working on giving myself access to the song… You see, I’m writing this post up on a new laptop purchsed for me by my wife Jennifer — Thanks honey! This is way cooler than your “right shoe for my birthday, left shoe for Father’s Day” idea! — and I don’t quite have it set up correctly yet. I hope the rest of you can enjoy the mellowness of Plunkett as I navigate the MacBook world. Ciao!
It’s no surprise that Swedish bands hold a special place in our collective hearts here. So, like many of you who email us saying “I can’t believe you haven’t posted band xyz,” I can’t believe we haven’t posted the Shout Out Louds. Well, that’s not exactly true; we’re used to being late on the typical blogosphere darlings. It appears that the Shout Out Louds didn’t survive the Capitol/Virgin merger as Merge Records released this new EP and the new album in September. All the better since the new label facilitated pairings with The Essex Green, among others (The Russian Futurists and Kleerup provide dancefloor versions), for collaborations and remixes.
Simple Kid is an Irish-born and London-based acoustifreaktronic troubadour who can be as dry and witty with a melody as The Beta Band, whose genius-boy way with both a harmonica and a sampler would do Beck Hanson proud, and whose prodigious (and prodigiously unkempt) follicles bring to mind Badly Drawn Boy and Moses after that whole 40-years-in-the-desert thing. He can carry a tune, too. “The Twentysomething†may well be “Loser†for a new generation, while “Lil’ King Kong†sounds like a mashup of Led Zeppelin and REO Speedwagon songs that were never written, let alone merged. Then there’s “Serotonin,†which as epics go is quite unassuming but that gets under your skin nonetheless by giving you a reason to both rise up and drop out. Isn’t that what the best rock ‘n’ roll songs always do?