If Brendan Benson’s indie cred translated into cash money, he could probably find what he’s looking for, instead of still looking for it. All the hip Detroit bands link to his website; he runs a ghetto recording studio and hangs out with Jack White; he got screwed by Virgin Records in a ’90s album deal but is back with V2 anyway — what more could you ask for? Benson’s got a little twang, some ’60s sensibilities, and a whole lot of talent. If he could only get Jack to punch him out in front of some photographers…
New Devendra Banhart MP3
My Enemy
The band claims to know all your secrets. Their label says My Enemy will kill you with poison. A wolf in sheep’s clothing? Harmless? Find out for yourself. Recommended if you’re a fan of imagining Múm up all night smoking crack…well, okay, maybe Múm after a couple Diet Cokes.
Mike Doughty
In my hotel of fond memories, Mike Doughty will always have a guaranteed late arrival, smoking-permitted Junior Executive Suite, complete with Heavenly Bed™ and a pillow mint. When I was a young player trying make it in the journalism game, Doughty was a consistently magical interview and overall nice guy. Also, unbeknownst to him, Doughty sparked the first major argument my wife and I ever had: About three hours into a five-hour road trip I popped in Irresistible Bliss. After a few songs, my then fiancee says, “Do we have to listen to this again?” To which I respond, “Listen, if I were a band, I’d be Soul Coughing. So get used to this.” In the stuff of sitcoms, our pal Ned had to sit through the next two hours in the backseat, wishing he’d found a different ride. I’m happy to report that our marriage weathered that debate and that Doughty is back, badder and deffer than before. My man’s talent still lies in his intrinsically rhythmic yarns, wherein he turns observational minutae into hypnotic commands through nasal, raspy repetition. But his writing has matured and the subway busker sound of his first solo effort has been replaced by some genuine instrumental weight, making Haughty Melodic sound bigger and warmer.
P.S. All you other Mike Doughtys are just imitating…
Nnnj
Lately, while certain technological gadgets of mine randomly play my music collection for me, I’ve heard unfamiliar, electronic, yet warm compositions capable of producing pleasant states of relaxation and reverie. It’s occured several times. Each time, as I’ve awakened from from this other world in which I’ve found myself, I glance down at the guilty party, and it’s been Nnnj. Nnnj (pronounced “inch”) relies on many sounds: global rhythms, glitchy programming, and trip-hop, but is beholden to none. Neither his name, album title (Monkey Straddle) nor its cover art is pretty, but the music itself is gorgeous.
Antony and the Johnsons Win the Mercury Prize
“Use It” MP3 and Video
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
At some point I had to acknowledge the wonders of this band despite or due to the fact that every single one of my favorite music-related blogs has jocked Clap Your Hands Say Yeah — which I won’t acronym-ize because it ends up reminding me of Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young when, in fact, they remind me of all that’s good about the Talking Heads, early Radiohead (yeah, Heather, I said Radiohead), and hazy, distorted memories of childhood.
Matisyahu
A Hasidic reggae sensation. It sounds like a sitcom setup that inevitably ends in “Now I’ve really seen it all!” And I’ll admit that when I saw Matisyahu for the first time, the gangly visage in a black suit and hat and traditional beard, combined with a voice perfectly trained for staccato wordplay, was as disorienting as Michael Bolton bustin’ out with a rhyme that would make Jay-Z blush. Yet despite being the last guy you’d expect to find himself in a waka-waka rhythm, Matisyahu comes legit with lyrics often steeped in religious imagery which, like Bob Marley’s Rastafarianism or even Bono’s Catholicism, never cross over into dogma. It’s in those lyrics that Matisyahu’s conceit comes into focus: Zion, Babylon, salvation, temples, princes and kings — whether Jamaica or Jerusalem, reggae at its core is rebel music for true believers. Matisyahu is true, and he’s bound to make some new believers of his own.