Before I succumb too fully to Cup fever, thought I’d pop in again with a few more recommendations to keep the eight of you satiated. In addition to the bands I already highlighted from our trip down to JAWWWWjuh last month, there were three others worth a mention and some spins. First up is a band of literal brothers from Britain (two sets!), the Sherlocks, who started our second day of the festival nicely. The band doesn’t do anything earth shattering — they’re a relatively straightforward UK indie band along the lines of Catfish and the Bottlemen, the Editors, and the like — but similar to that band the Crooks and Davidsons (frontman Kiaran Crook and his drummer brother Brandon, guitarist Josh Davidson and his bassist brother Andy) convey a sense of urgency and energy that sucks you in. The songs showcase bright hooks and catchy melodies, and Crook’s soaring voice gives the proceedings a semi-anthemic vibe. It won’t change your life, but it’s a perfect summer soundtrack to stick on while you’re basking in the sun. Check out “Chasing Shadows” from their winning debut:
Next comes a husband and wife team from Nashville, *repeat repeat, who kicked the entire festival off for us and really got things off on the right foot. The band is pretty infectious, both musically and in personality, and it’s provided a spike of sunshine and energy whenever it’s come on in the intervening weeks. Their sound marries the aforementioned marriage’s voices together really well — guitarist Jared Corder and his wife, keyboardist Kristyn (along with drummer Andy Herrin) — and bounces them off of songs that walk the line between surf rock and pop. It brings to mind similar personal/professional pairings like Mates of State (albeit a rockier, less synthy version) with nice melodies and a little bit of heart. Enjoy the ear candy — check out “Mostly” from their second album, Floral Canyon:
Lastly, we’ll close with the shaggy string bean from Ozark, Arkansas, Jeh-Sea Wells (not lyin’), who performs under the more distinguished version of his last name, Welles. I caught this guy right on the heels of the last one and it was a rather stark contrast — go from sunny, shiny songs of love to raw, riotous songs of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. (Literally — his debut includes tracks “Do You Know How to Fuck,” “Codeine,” and “Rock N Roll,” among others.) Once I got past the whiplash, though, it was every bit as enjoyable — Wells’ voice can quickly shift from pretty croon to ragged roar and he’s a pretty solid guitar player too. My only fault with his set was that he didn’t take the full 45 minutes (first rule of festivals — don’t leave a single second on the table), but I suppose he was simply cementing the axiom to leave ’em wanting more. He certainly did that — his debut finally dropped this week and it’s just as good as he was live. Instant fave remains “Life Like Mine” — check it out here:
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We’ll close with a couple articles on two bands I struggle with — bands I used to really like (in one case going road dog for and traveling to see in multiple nearby states), but who I’ve long since given up on and/or come to mostly loathe: Dave Matthews Band and Coldplay. They’re both big bands — both have been around for a long time, have legions of fans and a comparable number of albums, and yet saying you like them immediately makes people question your taste, sort of like admitting you like bubble baths or drinking rose. (Lay off you judgy fucks — sometimes even Sunshine needs to relax!) For Dave, similar to the article’s author they represent a period in my life where I was younger, definitively dumber, and yet SUPER into the band. They were constantly on TV, friends constantly had them on at parties, and my younger, dumber self somehow didn’t notice or mind the occasionally cringe-worthy lyrics and camp, instead seeing wisdom and sincerity. (In addition to touring around to see these guys a bunch, I must also admit I used several of their songs on tapes I made for girls trying to convince of my love/depth over the years — oh Baby Bobby…)
Maybe I was less discerning or the music was better (or both), but now every mediocre/subpar new release (like this week) sort of twists the knife and makes me shake my head, if not shudder with embarrassment at my younger self. The article does a valiant job trying to convince you that your younger self was on to something, highlighting “22 Dave Matthews Songs That Don’t Suck,” but while I listened to each song open to the possibility I had in fact missed something, I still think those early albums — Under the Table and Crash — are the only two that really matter. That was when the band was still hungry, was still riding the wave to being household names, and still keeping the jazzy, world music bullshit (and self-fellating “jam master” noodling) to a minimum. Take a listen and see for yourself, but I stand by my earlier incarnation — those were some good songs, but that train (just like that younger version) has long since departed.
The second article tackles Coldplay, a band who is similarly uncool, similarly self-aggrandizing and -assured of their own epic legend (and thus similarly infuriating and repellent), and similarly a story of what once was. Just like Dave, I used to really like this band — their first album was really good (and remains my favorite), something I discovered while living in London, and their second album was pretty solid too. It was also everywhere at the time — all over the TV and radio, all over the stereos of my flatmates and friends, as the world fell in love with Chris Martin and his broken-hearted beauty. Then, seemingly concurrent with them becoming international superstars, they became self-important, silly twits whose music became bloated, over-engineered nonsense. Gone was the heart and sincerity of the early years, here by the truck full was formulaic slop for the masses — take a lyric about love, throw in a fun new instrument (did someone say sitar?), and have Chris Martin look at you with his sad blue eyes while he sings to your soul. Certified masterpiece!
Similar to the last one, the article does good job trying to absolve you of the guilt of liking the early versions of the band while lambasting the bombast of latter years, in this case using the 10th anniversary of Viva la Vida as the reason for revisiting the band. The author is right that the album was a rebound from X&Y and an interesting step forward before things went completely off the rails, but similar to Dave I think the earliest stuff is all that stands up all these years out. Sparks an interesting debate, though, both for the album and the band writ large. See what you think — as for me, I’m off to watch the second half… –BS