Sharing the sharing.
Proof that bands DO get signed from unsolicited demos. And I’m happy to give bands a couple tips to do just that: 1) Write and record a few damn good songs. 2) Know your audience. Don’t send your death metal band (do people still actually listen to death metal?) to March Records for example. 3) Believe in magic, ’cause you’ll still need a little of that and a lot of luck.
Oh yeah, the band. RIYL: ADHD inflicted XTC on crack. And I mean that in a good way.
I can blame The Cure for a couple things:
1) The name of my first son, Cairo. I used to joke with a friend that I’d name my first child after the song “Fire In Cairo,” combining “fire” and “in” to create “Firyn.” Firyn Cairo. (My friend reciprocated the fun, threatening to name his first child Seven–and this was a couple years before Seinfeld hit the TV). By the time our first child was born I had joked around with “Firyn Cairo” so much it stuck (we axed Firyn, thankfully).
2) Cranes. And it’s been years since I’d listened to or even thought of the band. Somehow during my musical travels I came across their latest, and seventh, album, Particles & Waves. The band is as haunting, lush, and dark as ever. And lucky for us, just as busy. They opened a couple Cure shows in Europe over the summer and they’re already working on new material for a new album next year. Enjoy discovering or rediscovering Cranes. And if you’re sitting there all smug and cocky because you never stopped listening, shame on you. Why didn’t you remind me!?!?
All I knew of this guy going into my first listen was his first and last name. After a few spins of “Oil in the Fields” — a eulogy which managed to break my heart by the end of the first verse — I feel as though I know volumes despite its sparing lyrics. Like any good songwriter, he understands the importance of the spaces between. His rich voice and talent for orchestration makes such studied restraint that much more enchanting. If the whole album (due November 8) is as good as these two tracks, I may need to make room on my “Best of 2005” list.
There is a God! And he’s not just talking to George Bush. He’s obviously tipping off Secretly Canadian to rare, indispensable music. Yeah, I’m slightly excited this record is finally coming out here in the states (October 25th). I missed them this last year at SXSW because frankly, I just couldn’t stand up any more. The five pounds of succulent BBQ from The Salt Lick didn’t exactly help the cause. So I can’t vouch for the band live, but I can vouch for the psychedelic groove you’re about to ride.
The Chicharones — the Vancouver, B.C.-based duo of Josh Martinez and Sleep of Oldominion — are the self-proclaimed Simon and Garfunkel of rap. I can’t really argue with that description. This joint feels like that broken-in Stussy hoodie I just found at the bottom of my drawer: familiar and frrrrresh!
There isn’t much sunshine in titles of Mt. Egypt’s plaintive ballads, and there isn’t much sunshine in New York City today, so the pairing is one that fits quite nicely. According to his bio, Travis Graves is “homeless in California,” which begs one of those chicken-or-the-egg questions of whether he’s homeless because he’s an artist or he’s an artist because he’s homeless. The longing in Graves’ vocals is in the great recent tradition of such wounded souls at Will Oldham, Mark Kozelek and Eef Barzelay, and his fragile guitar paints a wistful picture, especially on the lower-fi offerings here. But lest you spin off to something more cheerful to get your weekend going, Graves isn’t all melancholy. His is the sound of transition — that moment when despair gives way to renewal. It’s the perfect soundtrack to the changing of the leaves, because autumn is finally here, even if you’re homeless in California.