I recently caught the last hour or so of the classic documentary Athens, Georgia Inside/Out. That LP was probably the most used vinyl of the summer between high school graduation and my freshman year of college, Love Tractor and Pylon being two of my faves at the time.
Athens has continued to be an almost non-stop source of bands over the years, of all types and sounds, so it’s natural that the pysch-tinged, shoegaze-influenced rock of Twin Tigers would hail from the capital of alterna-rock, forming, playing, putting out an EP and touring from Georgia to Texas to Michigan, all in about 6 months. Ah, the innocence of youth, making music the way they want to, and seeing what happens. That’s Athens for you.
These guys dig women…or their names, at least. Not just the “Saturday Night Live” star after which they’re named (twice, for good measure), but every track on their debut album is named after famous-to-obscure female celebrities (if you can identify all of them without the help of Google, my hat’s off to you). What connection they all have with each other is a mystery to me (“Batgirl, Miss America 1954, and a French physicist walk into a bar…”). And that mystery is only furthered by their nearly unintelligible lyrics and eclectic compositions (ranging from Eno-esque to bluegrass to indie spunk). What I do know is some strangely compelling songs emerge from the artsy din, “Bianca Montale” probably being the most conventional of the lot.
There’s been a fair amount of turmoil in my life of late: relocation from The Big Northeastern City to The Little Southern City, new job, first house, first child—basically we’ve inadvertently fit all of the major milestones of adulthood into about a 12-month span. It’s got me a little out of sorts, which may explain why I’ve gravitated more than normal toward singer-songwriters. Surely I’m softening in my mid-30s, but there’s just something about an acoustic guitar and a single voice that brings focus to my overactive mind. Joe Pug’s voice and guitar have a particular resonance in this regard. Pug is a Chicago carpenter by day and a troubadour by night. He possesses the eyes, mop, and even a hint of the vocal cords of a young Bob Dylan. More importantly, he possesses the strumming fingers and lush songbook of an all-American folk singer. In Pug’s hard plucking, exaggerated choruses, and lyrical vignettes you can draw a pretty straight line from Woody Guthrie to Bob Dylan to Johnny Cash to Bruce Springsteen to Steve Earle to Josh Ritter. Like all of them, Pug is a populist at heart, a singer who can’t help but talk about all of us when he sings about himself and can’t help but sing about himself when he’s talking about all of us. I’m a sucker for a good line and this one from “Hymn #101” is one of my favorites right now: “I’ve come to meet the sheriff and his posse/ to offer him the broad side of my jaw/ I’ve come here to get broke/ and maybe bum a smoke/ we’ll go drinkin’ two towns over after all.” It could just be a comic-tragic put-on and you probably have to feel some turmoil yourself to truly appreciate it, but “Hymn #101” is full of lines that will fill you with both heartbreak and euphoria. It’s good to be reminded that that’s why we listen to music in the first place.
Ok, so Great Lakes Myth Society is bringing their ornate, stylized, vaguely ’70s medieval rock to an outdoor stage about two blocks from my house this weekend! How cool is that? The 3hive crew often talks about trying to catch the shows of the bands we post, but usually our real lives interfere and we’re left with the wistful memories of life before kids, wherein we could function past 9:30 pm and therefore go to shows. With this weekend’s 
Did you notice? Reeve Oliver’s initials are R.O., the first two letters in the word “rock.” You know where I’m going with this don’t you? Well, they do! They rock like alternative radio circa the late ’90s when bands like Foo Fighters were ruling the airwaves and alternative radio wasn’t all that alternative any more. Reeve Oliver is one of those no-it’s-not-a-dude-but-the-name-of-their-band bands from San Diego who recently recorded their second album courtesy of a major label only to have the major label back out of the deal. Luckily, the band was able to get control of the record so it didn’t end up getting shelved, out of sight, out of mind for years. A few songs on this new album are re-recordings of previous releases, the band wisely choosing to spend big money production on their strongest songs, e.g. “Yer Motion.” I dig the band’s oh, so tasty melodies, melodies you wouldn’t usually hear on a rock record. They remind me a lot of Erik Voek’s lithe vocal melodies, a genius, under-the-radar pop recluse that I can never get enough of. And really, when you’ve got a secret weapon like O. (Olivelawn, Fluf) up your sleeve it’s pwnage time. Play often, play loud, play now.
I just felt it in the air. It’s a warm fuzzy feeling in that glob of fat my skull houses, otherwise known as a brain. This warm fuzzy feeling reminds me to check in on the label that consistently provides me with warm fuzzy music: Labrador. They just signed a Stockholm duo, The Sound of Arrows, who 
Another day, another Swedish band changing its name (see