First, my apologies for the unplanned hiatus from 3hive. It’s been a month since my last post, though I swear it doesn’t feel like it. To break the silence I’m taking it back to the old school—or is it the new school?—folk genre. Don’t know if it’s Joe’s long-awaited John Prine post or the near perfect weather here in Southeast Michigan (mid 70s and clear blue skies, ftw) but my ears seem to have an insatiable appetite for what Joel Nicholson, aka Butcher the Bar, cooked up in his bedroom studio in Manchester, England. His songs are immediately gratifying, they waste no time explaining themselves. Bare, beautiful guitar work and hushed lyrics of human relationship, of coming and going. As with all good stories, it’s what’s not said (or sung or played) that matters most. This is a truth that most 22-year-old musicians don’t learn until some time after their debut album, which is what makes Butcher the Bar’s Sleep at Your Own Speed that much more impressive.
John Prine
In teaching high school history, especially the things I lived through, I’ve often used a simple rule when choosing primary sources: don’t use things you love. In other words, avoid being hurt, intentionally or otherwise, when everyone else is unimpressed by that which changed your life. And so, it’s hesitantly and humbly that I offer up John Prine today. A few years ago, the 3hive writers came up with a “dream post” list, and Prine was high up on mine. I don’t know where I’d be without having internalized a degree of the optimistic outlook on life expressed in songs like “Please Don’t Bury Me,” or that remembrance of what matters in “Storm Windows,” or the embrace of passion and self in “Angel from Montgomery.” You know I could go on and on. John Prine is a legend, a treasure, a gift. I know I’m breaking my rule, but I also know I’m right.
Zooey
I think it’s pretty safe to say that you won’t be hearing about Zooey from many other music sites. A few weeks ago the band sent out an email blast and they forgot to BCC their mailing list. Ouch! Poor Zooey got an earful about that faux pas. Instead of drinking the Haterade I thought I’d listen in on what Zooey had to offer. I was pleasantly surprised by their semi-easy-listening-electronica. Zooey recently remixed “Change of Destination” by Monade and, if you can imagine, they made it even bubblier than the original. “Little Thunder” is brand new music while “You Gave Your Love to Me Softly” and “Rendez-vous” are from their 2005 self-released LP Pique-nique et jeux dans l’eau, which you can download in its entirety. Zooey is sweet, playful, and with the exception of their little “accident,” perfectly charming.
The Summer of Labrador
Cafeteria Dance Fever
The summer may have just begun, officially, but it’s that time of the year: the late June music funk. Funk not as in George Clinton funk, but funk as in I just can’t find anything I want to listen to. The Gossip‘s That’s Not What I Heard and Slumberland Records’ podcasts have been the only things keeping me going. But what better to get me outta this funk than a bunch of noise. This Portland quartet makes a mighty racket with their screwy punk rock screaming and pounding. These tracks may be a few years old, but they work.
GROK
I hope you don’t like this song very much. Or, better put: I’d advise you not to get too attached to this song, show up at a GROK show, and expect them to recreate this recording live. See, GROK’s got a thing or two to prove, and that thing or two has plenty to do with improvisation. They have no songs (at least not in that written, structured, rehearsed, performed sense of “song”), the songs they do have are performed only once so that every GROK show is a one-of-a-kind, highly unique experience, and audience members act as collaborators by suggesting a theme for a song, playing an instrument, or spinning the Wheel of Chordal Destiny. Their music sounds just as fun and whimsical, as is the case in “Pink Shirt.” Don’t worry if you find yourself listening to “Pink Shirt” more than once. To disagree with GROK is ultimately GROK. Don’t think about it, just listen…
New Bronx MP3
Bell
Is Olga Bell a Bjork sound-a-like? Not exactly. She probably gets asked this a lot, so to combat the similarities between their grand and ethereal Scandinavian voices–she cleverly decided to answer this question by starting with tribute. covering a Bjork track! She’s firmly not-Bjork. Nor is she Bjork-lite. When I first heard Bell, I was so-so on the whole thing. As when smelling a glass of wine, I was getting over-strong notes of the aforementioned Icelandic star and Radiohead. But my friend Seth kept telling me how much he loved her, so I kept listening. Where I ended up with was this: Bell is a singer whose personality comes through in her voice, a love for the staccato beat and someone I have come to really like listening to. I also love that she is Russian born, Alaska-reared and has somehow ended up in my own beloved Brooklyn. She also calls her laptop and instrument. And while I have been a detractor re: “laptops are music!” for ages, I’m kind of willing to buy that in her case.
Sic Alps
Sic Alps is the product of Matt Hartman (the best band ever Henry’s Dress, Cat Power, The How) and Mike Donovan (Big Techno Werewolves, Ropers, Sounds Of The Barbary Coast). While the early track below is feedback overload, their newer releases are San Francisco no-fi psych-garage-rock. New LP U.S. EZ out July 15th on Siltbreeze.
Karl Hector & The Malcouns
Stones Throw’s funk imprint, Now-Again, follows up the mind-blowing Heliocentrics album with this desert continent disc from neo-afro funk collective Karl Hector & The Malcouns. First, a quick who’s who of the principals: Karl Hector (vocals & percussion) has, up to this point, only recorded his skills on one 7-inch back in ’96 with the Funk Pilots; Between Jay Whitefield (Poets of Rhythm), Thomas Myland and Zdenko Curlija (The Malcouns) a wide swath of instrumental ground gets covered. Six more musicians round out the collective. “Nyx” stands out as a faithful sampling of Sahara Swing as a whole. Its gritty groove breaks down into raw african percussion about a minute and a half in, after which a fog of free jazz rolls past until the guitars resume their call and response riffs. It’s like overhearing a conversation that you can’t stop listening to because you want to hear the rest of the story. And the rest of the story about Sahara Swing goes like this: it’ll be one of the hottest additions to your summertime party playlist.