She & Him: Love at First Listen

Since She & Him’s Volume One was released almost two years ago, I have been anticipating Volume Two.  When I found out that Zooey Deschanel could really sing, my already overwhelming girl crush basically imploded.  The album quickly became the only one on rotation in my car, on my iPod and in my head.  If I had been smart enough to buy the vinyl, let’s just say it would have been reduced to dust right now.

I know this may seem really creepy and a bit much, but it’s not just Zooey that makes She & Him one of my favorite groups to date.  The vintage sound of the album called to my Motown side;  M. Ward’s folky plucking spoke to the rootsy, Ohio girl in me; and Zooey’s voice was something I could pretend to actually sing to.  None of the songs begged for my approval either.  Unlike many of the bands on top of the industry, She & Him weren’t trying to be #1 or be the next cool thing, they were trying to make music that they enjoyed and that made the album worthwhile for me.

As the release of Volume Two neared, I was at first worried.  Could they really make me as happy with the follow up as they did with the debut?  But then I heard “In The Sun,” and knew everything would be okay.  With a little help from another one of my favorite bands, Tilly & The Wall, Zooey and M. Ward did it again and stole my heart.

If you haven’t checked out She & Him yet, I urge you to do so.  Take a break from trying to stay on top of whatever Indie artist is, like, so sick and listen to something honest.  Other streaming tracks include the haunting “Thieves,” and the lovely “I Can Hear Music.” Watch for the album to drop 3/23!

Hazle Weatherfield: Hazle Weatherfield

 

hazle weatherfield

hazle weatherfield

4.17.09

 

 

 

The flowers have wilted, the heart-shaped candy eaten, and the city of Cincinnati had had yet to see the first promising local album of 2009.  That is, until Monday, when newcomers Hazle Weatherfield, a gifted trio, released their debut album.
Named for the fictional female detective conjured up by Holden Caulfield’s younger sister in The Catcher in the Rye, Hazle Weatherfield makes raw but proficient Indie Rock with a rootsy undercurrent, putting the band in the same league as Indie artists like The Weakerthans, Catfish Haven, and Bright Eyes.
At the band’s core is the songwriting of singer/guitarist Eric Hand, who crafts tight, concise and emotive songs that are strongly melodic but not in a predictable way. The rhythm section perfectly compliments Hand’s ragged, instinctive guitar playing, giving the songs much of their dynamic presence.
Drummer Kevin McNamee spoke about the three-year process it took to create this debut masterpiece.
“We were very anxious to get it done, but at the same time, we didn’t want to rush it,” he said.
The self-titled disc opens with “I Woke Up,” which comes off like a Country song reimagined by an Indie Pop band, as Hand sings about waking up drunk in a car, leading him to reexamine his, as of yet, regrettable life. There’s no happy ending, per se, but music, it turns out, is the subject’s one salvation.
“If I can have the music, I think I’ll make it through,” croons Hand.
It’s that sort of honest, uncontrived writing that prevails on the disc. The tales spun by Hand aren’t filled with rainbows, smiles, and unicorns — they’re like real life: complicated, uncertain and open to options. Melancholy is the only constant.
With its debut, Hazle Weatherfield proves that good songs played well are still the most important things in making a great band.

Glasvegas: Glasvegas

 

glasvegas

glasvegas

9.8.08

 

 

The music press is notoriously unreliable at second-guessing what the public want. For every Oasis or Strokes, surfing the zeitgeist from critical acclaim to commercial riches, there’s been an Ultrasound or a Campag Velocet, great white hopes whose career never made it past the newsagents.

 

Latest on this hit’n’miss production line are Glasvegas. A bunch of brylcreemed twenty-somethings boasting an unnerving resemblance to most of the Creation roster circa 1986, they’ve been called “the best group from Glasgow since The Mary Chain” by Alan McGee, thanks to a Spector-esque wall-of-sound delivered with the chin-jutting confidence of Oasis.

So, are Glasvegas truly a twenty-first century JAMC or just a modern day James King And The Lone Wolves? At their best, they’re worth every syllable of the hype. Opener “Flowers & Football Tops” swells fuzzily into focus, like a binge-drinking Ronettes, while “Geraldine” is more anthemic than any song about the social services has any right to be. Yes, that’s right, social services. Not for Glasvegas a subscription to the Bobby Gillespie book of rock’n’roll clichés.

Instead singer James Allen delivers tales of grief and resilience involving absent fathers (“Daddy’s Gone”), untimely death (“Flowers & Football Tops”) and city centre violence (“Stabbed”) in a broad Glaswegian brogue even the Proclaimers might think twice about. Sometimes it pays not to listen too closely. “It’s My Own Cheating Heart That Makes Me Cry” finds him bellowing “Liar. Liar, liar/ Pants on fire” while “Go Square Go” features a chorus of “Here we fucking go!” which must sound great at Barrowlands on a Friday night, but may not wash in Tunbridge Wells.

Which brings us to the crux of the problem. Glasvegas have struck a chord because –like Oasis before them- their musical homages to their heroes (Roy Orbison, Suicide, vintage rockabilly) are so obviously heartfelt. Whether this can translate into sales is another matter. If you’re simply after retro thrills, though, these boozy anthems will provide you with one very happy hour.

It’s hard to think of a recent single that packs quite the emotional wallop of Daddy’s Gone, a divorce saga that shifts from scornful to heartbroken without ever becoming mawkish. At his best, Allan is a fantastic songwriter, willing to tackle tough topics, armed with good tunes, balancing fervour with subtlety

But tripping over the line that separates overwhelming from overwrought seems an occupational hazard. The opening Flowers and Football Tops is powerful enough in its own right, the hopeless tenor of the lyric – partly inspired by the murder of Glaswegian teenager Kriss Donald – chafing against the melodic sweetness.
There are definitely failings and shortcomings on display here, but they’re substantially outweighed by moments when Glasvegas hit their target with a force that makes you believe they might well survive the more outrageous claims being made on their behalf.

200 Million Thousand: Black Lips

200 million thousand

the black lips

2.24.2009

 

 

 

Art that transports the listener or viewer is often labeled as transcendent. That word is much too deep to apply to the Black Lip’s fifth studio album, 200 Million Thousand. However, like a saucy B-movie, the Black Lips have found the ability to transport the listener through time and space, temporarily suspending the now. And this is truly an artistic success.

It says something that “200 Million Thousand,” spans multiple genres under an hour, playing like a blend between the Sex Pistols and the Beach Boys. Their “flower punk” is often sloppy, but it’s an aesthetic choice in this case.  Buried under (often way under) the heap of this psychedelic jam session, are surprisingly exacting pop hooks, intelligent musical experiments, and insidious grooves that belie the band’s wastrel image.

The Black Lips sing of being “trapped in a basement” in a haunting tune—ironic considering that this Atlanta band’s sloppy “flower punk” would have been unjustly confined to basement shows; now it could fit flawlessly in a Zach Braff film. The Lips’ influences loom largely. “Big Black Baby Jesus of Today” sounds distractingly like the 13th Floor Elevators, and “Drugs” is clearly all about the New York Dolls.  One of the more intriguing tunes, “The Drop I Hold”, is a stoned bum-out that features singer Alexander almost rapping.   Each song is different than the next.  “Starting Over” even steals a guitar line from the La’s “There She Goes”.  Also worth mentioning is the eerily familiar bonus track, “Never Get Away”, which sounds like the Beatle’s covering Devo’s “Gut Feeling”.

Touching so many genres, the album can cater to any mood, but the constant changes can prove irritating.  Despite this, the smart if self-conscious album makes it clear who the Lips would like to be (clearly someone with multiple personalities), but it’s hard to tell who they really are.

Like any rock ‘n roll guilty pleasure, 200 Million Thousand may not be among the great albums of the year, but it certainly is good at what it does. A necessity during midterms, it gets the pulse racing and jerks you across genres, feeling like a rock n’ roll lightning rod at times. And sometimes being jolted by rock, like what the Black Lips play, is just what you might need to stay up that extra three hours to finish studying.

Partie Traumatic: The Black Kids

partie traumatic

the black kids

7.22.08

 

 

 

 

Hailing from Jacksonville, Florida, the mulitethnic quintet leapt onto the indie radar last year with an EP comprised of demos entitled “Wizards of Aaah”. Black Kids quickly attracted attention from various influential blog and were named “ones to watch” by Rolling Stone.  Now comes the question, did they live up to the hype?

While the debut is certainly not the greatest of all time, it undoubtedly makes you want to shake it.  All of the songs from “Aaah” remain on the album, albeit in a fresher, re-mastered format.  Lead vocalist, Reggie Youngblood, for some reason maintains an irresistible British accent throughout the debut.  It’s hard to take the Black Kids too seriously after this, but upon a second or third listen it’s impossible to deny that the group possesses intelligence and wit often lacking from most pop indie bands.

With nods to Sparks and The Wizard of Oz, Black Kids prove to have a knack for creating achingly quixotic tunes with an edge of sadness.  The album has an underlying melancholy, despite it’s celebratory feel.  The first single off the album, I’m Not Going To Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You, is quite possible the most upbeat, cheerful song about an unattainable girl that you will ever hear.

Props go to Youngblood’s little sister Alison and Dawn Watley who infuse each track with an infectious sense of energy by throwing in Go! Team reminiscent backup vocals-the chants throughout Look At Me (When I Rock Wichoo) and Listen To Your Body Tonight being highlights.  It’s exactly that spark and enthusiasm that make the album addictive.

Purely enjoyable, “Partie Traumiatic” is just that- a party. If the Black Kids know how to do anything right, it’s get people to dance.  Each catchy tune is guaranteed to at least evoke a steady head bop out of you.