I originally posted about Boyskout two years ago when they released their debut. As you can see below, I was quite smitten. I still am…this time by the range and sophistication of their follow-up, Another Life. They go from fragile innocence (“Everybody Knew”) to smoldering spite (“Happy Yet?”) without letting up on the sexually charged energy. Welcome back, girls.
Original post from 8/25/2004:
Boyskout are not boys at all. In fact, I don’t even think they are “into” boys, if you get my drift… So why is it that I feel all special inside every time I listen to “Back to Bed”? Because something about their black magic new wave transcends sexual politics and brings out the freak in me.
An interesting tidbit about Mr. Ferree to start things off, he’s Domino’s first American worldwide signing. Meaning, I guess, that Domino’s British mothership is finally warming to the American music scene. And Benjy Ferree’s got a solid, old fashioned, back porch, red, white and blue sound running through his songs. I can almost hear someone blowing into a moonshine jug in “Why Bother,” and a washboard player would fit in just as well. “Private Honeymoon” waltzes along nicely with the sounds of the West Coast’s neu-folk folks. Ah, it’s probably the playful, beatles-esque romp “In The Countryside” that’s got the label giving Benjy the green light for worldwide domino-ation. His 
I need to thank 
Not only do Nom de Guerre play some wonderful pop music, but they offer perhaps the best band shirts ever offered for sale by a band: tailor-made, double cuff dress shirts designed by the bassist for measley 70 euros! Other offers available for purchase include your name in a song, an entire song about you, and even an entire album about you. If only I were the Russian billionaire with some spare cash whom Nom de Guerre is hoping to court, I’d buy Blackburn Rovers, then buy half the Chelsea squad (and no, not Lampard) and have them warm the Blackburn bench cause that other Russian billionaire must be getting bored by now, and then have Nom de Guerre write albums about each member of my family. But in laying out the required payment, I would insist on the formula of “So Long Sister”: dirty bass, swliring keyboards, and plenty of la la’s and other sing-along harmonies. Oh, and some of those dress shirts. What is the dollar-to-euro exchange rate these days anyway?
In recording their debut Sing Song EP, The Little Ones had two goals: 1) convince themselves that everything was going to be alright, and 2) make their own feet shuffle. I’m posting about them because they managed to help me achieve those two goals as well. Which, alas, brings me to my third goal: clean my house. At least I know what I’ll be listening to…
Princeton is not from Princeton. I have my doubts that the floppy-headed Santa Monica twins and their best friend, who recorded their first E.P. in London while on study-abroad programs, have ever set foot in New Jersey. They claim such classic Brit-pop songwriters Ray Davies and Rod Argent as influences, and their four-track stylings, carefree lyrical associations and bookish sensibilities also bring to mind Ben Lee, Lou Barlow, Stephen Malkmus, and Jonathan Richman. It takes more than cleverness to write a song about a pirate that doesn’t sound like a Broadway musical, or to sing a travelogue of an Asian city that doesn’t descend into kitsch. But Princeton does it well — with organs, acoustic guitar, and sweet, youthfully knowing vocals. Just don’t ask me which twin is singing.
Habeus Corpus R.I.P. 
Blissed-out ambient pop from Vancouver. (How many times can we say that it seems all good things come from Canada?) I don’t know if there really is a scientific perpetual dream theory, but if you come up with some ideas of what the soundtrack to it would be, the band probably comes close. If you like what you hear and want to grab more free stuff, you can download their whole 
I won’t bog you down with personal details, but I recently hit a speed bump in the road of life. No sympathy, please. It’s just one of those things that absolutely blows now, but with time will seem insignificant and trivial. Still, it’s got me feeling down, and these tracks from the Firecracker Jazz Band (featuring members of Squirrel Nut Zippers) fit the mood perfectly. The comic melancholy of the wa-wa trumpeting, horse clomping, and playful tickling of the piano keys leave me no choice but to laugh at myself and move on. So for anyone who’s been dealt a bad hand the Firecracker Jazz Band is here to tell you, no, really, it’s gonna be OK.