The Pale Young Gentlemen are indeed pale. But unless my eyes have deceived me, they’re not all gentlemen and at least one of them is gonna get a smack from mama for their chauvinism. Maybe that’s why there’s all of this talk of only having one good arm, and running through barley and other slightly macabre circumstances. “The Crook of My Good Arm†is an escape song—the string section is low and immediate, the guitar is frantic, and the vocals and lyrics fall somewhere between Tom Waits and Rufus Wainwright. What they’re escaping from, we’re not sure. But there’s a good chance it’s mama’s wooden spoon.
RIP Odetta
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Surf City
December barely rolls in and finally it looks like “winter” around Huntington Beach, CA, aka Surf City USA. “Winter” remains an ideal time to hit the waves for a chilly little surf session, and this warm, fuzzy track from our Surf City brothers down in New Zealand is the perfect soundtrack for such a jaunt. The band started when two friends connected in a video library just after one of the fellows, Davin, had purchased a four track recorder with money he received from a study grant. It sounds as if he spent more time studying the acoustics of a Volkswagen van because that’s what this EP sounds like: a more cheerful Jesus and Mary Chain as recorded in a VW. No matter your geographical location or its current climate, Surf City will sun up your heart and give you cozy toes.
Boy Eats Drum Machine
It’s the day after Thanksgiving and I’m still thinking about eating. Even the music I’m listening to reminds me of eating. Enter Boy Eats Drum Machine. It’s somewhat of a misnomer because Jon Ragel the multi-instrumentalist behind the moniker is all grown up and no, he didn’t eat a drum machine. Instead, he joined forces with a who’s who line-up of Portland indie rock drummers via a local drum break series called Bridgetown Breaks. Drum credits go to the drummers of Viva Voce, Talkdemonic, and Menomena among others. Ragel adds everything else and it’s a plateful: turntables, synths, tenor sax, guitar, organ, and yes, bravely, vocals. RJd2 didn’t even step behind the mic until his second album. From record one (Booomboxxx is his third) Ragel’s armed with one turntable, one microphone and all the goodies mentioned above. The result is a scratchy, earnest pastiche of jazz, breaks, spaghetti western soundtracks, and soulful crooning. A delicious mix of sounds for the whole family to feast on this holiday season!
Lex Land
Hands down, Lex Land is one of the more gorgeous voices we’ve featured on these pages of late. Although Lex Land is somewhat of an antithesis to my usual selections. My favorite songs are the ones I can sing along to, songs with hooky choruses and witty verses. I’m drawn to songs that make me want to sing. The “quality” of the music or the “ability” of the musicians in question are secondary. I listen to music with my gut, not my brain. Lex Land reminds me that I can’t sing, because man, she sure can. However, Lex Land does leave room for the untrained among us in her songs. My favorite songs of hers, and my favorite parts of this song, are the small, intimate, almost reluctant moments when she almost falters, moments that leave me holding my breath, hoping she pulls it off. Those moments are plentiful, as are the ones where Lex Land soars far beyond anything I might muster.
The Soft Hands
The Soft Hands have resurrected the twitch and punch of the ’70s post-punk sound. They’ve more than resurrected it; they’ve bumped it up a notch or two. They’re jumpier than XTC, snottier than Joe Jackson, more herky-jerky than the Talking Heads. Repeated listens may induce seizures, limb-flailing pogo dancing about the room at least. Suffering from restless leg syndrome? Get out from behind your desk and let The Soft Hands shake the wiggles out of you.
The Hush Now
A couple of weeks ago, I was putting together some mix CDs for my wife for her birthday and, as usually happens, I loaded them up with Hall & Oates. She likes them. I say I don’t. Yet the truth is that not only is there an H&O song that is indelible in our romantic history, but those goofy-looking dudes wrote some pretty fine pop songs. There, I said it. The Hush Now said it, too. The poppy quartet is fronted by Noel Kelly, who almost died listening to Queen and who draws on The Apples in Stereo and Built to Spill, among others, for comparison to their frenetic power chords and his own melancholy tenor. But, for all of their “indie-pop-shoegazer†(their words, not mine) name-dropping, it’s that touch of Darryl and John that gets me every time.
Ben Pilgrim
“God should have made you ugly, ’cause that’s what you act like.” No doubt Ben Pilgrim wasn’t talking about how the rest of the country is treating Detroit these days, but like Bob Marley said, if the cap fits… I’ve never felt more clearly like I wasn’t a part of the United States, like I was living in some backwater colony that had outlived its mercantile usefulness. Hey remember, people live here; it’s like being in the South before the Civil War. Maybe we should start talking nullification. Anyway, Ben Pilgrim is a Rhode Island crooner, sloppy and heartfelt and primitive. And he’s welcome to visit the D whenever he wants (assuming the whole state of Michigan isn’t purchased by Ontario for a year’s supply of Timbits).
Blind Pilot
The coolest thing about Blind Pilot (besides the music…I’ll get to that in a second) is that they just finished a tour of the West Coast on their BIKES! Gear and all, they pedaled their way down from Bellingham, Washington to San Diego, California. It took them just under two months. As a fellow bike commuter I’m extremely impressed by this feat. Taking the length of my commute into consideration (1.1 miles), this admiration shouldn’t come as a surprise. Likewise, after one listen to these Blind Pilot songs you’ll understand my admiration for their music. Simple, stripped down, yet completely majestic. “Go On, Say It” benefits from swelling strings and doubled vocals, but even those basic flourishes are just that. Flourishes, not crutches. “Paint or Pollen” proves Blind Pilot is capable of capturing and perfectly harnessing that elusive little thing we call pop music with nothing but the bare essentials.