As part of the festivities surrounding the big game this weekend, I was asked by the league to make an appearance to further brighten what should be a crackerjack good time for the country. (Suds and snacks! Tay Tay and Tra Tra! Spicy chili and spicier ads! And some light sporting, too!) Initially they had me slated to do the halftime show, but I got bumped at the last minute when they found a willing usher to take the job, which I thought was pretty cool (a game for the people, by the people!) so instead I opted to pop in with a super-sized post for the masses. It’s a bit of a continuation of the previous post and my annual explorations of other people’s year end lists, one of which has proven to be worthy of singling out.
It’s from a husband and wife DJ duo with a pair of regular radio shows in Bellingham, Washington (their kids join them occasionally as well) — Wild Rumpus and Night Moves. It looks like they’ve been at it since late 2020 (at least on their current station) and they’ve got a nice banter to bolster their pretty banging musical taste. The tunes they play during their hour-long bloc are often quite good (you can stream them all here) and similar to their year end list, there’s often a fair bit of overlap with Sunshine Radio and the songs we highlight here. Case in point, their list of last year’s nine best albums had a couple that also made mine (Dean Johnson, Duff Thompson), a couple from artists we’ve called out here or on the sister site on the ‘Gram (Michael Nau, Rose City Band), and a couple that were totally new discoveries for me, which are worth sharing here as well. Since we’ve got the Super Bowl tonight we’ll put a pair of touchdowns on the board to get the party started — fourteen songs from seven bands, five of which have ties to our friends in the northwest.
Two of those five are immediate faves, ones I’ve been burning through on repeat for several weeks now, so we’ll start with those. The first of them was a total discovery for me — the sophomore album from Washingtonian nee Californian singer/songwriter Margo Cilker. It’s her second in as many years and a really solid album. Cilker’s voice evokes classic country sirens like Emmylou and Dolly (or their modern incarnations like Katie and Kacey), her lyrics conjure the open air settings of folk/Americana, while her musical flourishes remind me at times of a mournful second line in New Orleans. It’s quite a cocktail and every bit as good as her debut. (2021’s Pohorylle)
Tracks like the opening “Lowland Trail” and “Santa Rosa” are easy rides in the country, while songs like “Crazy or Died” and “Sound and Fury” are slow-burning singalongs that wouldn’t sound out of place in a packed pub full of hoisted pints. That latter image really captures the warm feel of the album, as cozy and inviting as the hearth of that spot buried deep in County Clare. Two of my current faves are “Mother Told Her Mother Told Me,” which stays more on the country side of the county line and showcases Cilker’s strengths nicely, while “Keep it on a Burner” calls to mind more of a retro soul vibe, as well as that sad marching band feel referenced earlier. Give both of em a spin here:
The second of the two I’ve been listening to obsessively is only a partial discovery — partial because I’ve been a fan of one of the primary people behind the band for a while now (singer/guitarist Kevin Murphy), but had no idea they’d broken off from their main band for this side project. Said castaway is closet fave The Moondoggies, which Murphy has fronted since the late 2000s, and while the immediate panic that’s caused by discovering him recording under a new guise and what that might mean for his primary band is real (they haven’t released anything since 2018’s A Love Sleeps Deep) it’s thankfully unwarranted as they apparently have a new album ready to drop soon. (An insight gratefully received from our Wild Rumpus friends, who kindly shared it with me on the side after interviewing Murphy recently for their show.)
This album came about courtesy of the pandemic as the band’s four members were apparently all living in lockdown together and started jamming to pass the time. Murphy is/was joined by two members of Chris King and the Gutterballs (the titular King and bassist Malcolm Roberts), as well as Seth McDonald from All Star Opera on keys, and they definitely have a comfortable chemistry that belies their longevity as an act. Musically the band bears the strongest imprint of Murphy’s mainstay Moondoggies, both due to his voice and the laidback, leggy jams the guys go off on across the album’s eleven songs. And while the vibe mostly calls to mind that band and fellow feel good groovers like the Dead and MMJ, there’s some seriously meaty guitarwork going on here as well (whether courtesy of Murphy or King it’s unclear), which reminds me more of beloved bands like Built to Spill at times. (The back to back whammy of “Can’t Wait any Longer” and “Don’t Wanna Die” being two excellent examples, which sound as if Mr Martsch had moseyed into the studio for their fiery back halves.) Every bit as warm and inviting as Cilker’s, this one’s got a number of bright, upbeat tunes to get you going. “Laugh it Off” and “Live Along” are two great examples, while the soaring harmonies on “Miner for a Dream” and “All My Love” take those into the stratosphere. The latter pair are my current faves amongst many right now, so give em a ride here:
Up next we’ll shift to another pair of solid suggestions from our Washingtonian friends that are a rung below the former two in terms of immediate, obsessive resonance, but they’re definitely growing on me. The first comes from another new discovery, Canadian cum New Orleanean singer/songwriter Steph Green, whose sophomore album Lore came out late last year. Despite releasing two albums in as many years (her debut, Thanks for That, came out the year before), Green is still a relative newcomer, having only started writing and recording her own music in 2016. She’s a bit of a chimera — she’s co-chair of a label (Mashed Potato Records, which released this and her previous album/EPs), a producer as well as a performer (besides her solo work she apparently sang on both Duff Thompson’s and Dean Johnson’s most recent albums), and plays a number of the instruments found on this and her previous album.
It’s a pretty impressive arsenal for someone her age (I’m probably twice her tally and half as talented) and the album has a warm, weary sheen to it that reminds me a lot of early Cat Power. That swooning, bleary buzz found on songs like “Hold me Under” and “Last Seance” or back half tracks like “Satchel” and “Mine” would sound right at home on albums like Moon Pix or You Are Free. The exhaustion is almost palpable, but Green’s voice keeps us from succumbing and giving up — things may look bleak, but there’s still beauty to be found here. My two current faves are the slightly more upbeat sway of “Teardrop Skies” and the almost defiant strut of “Take a Walk.” Check both of em out here:
The back half of the slow burners from Bellingham comes courtesy of Richmond’s Michael Nau, returning with his fifth solo full-length, Accompany. It’s his first in four years (his last, Less Ready to Go, came out in 2019) and is one I’d already been exploring prior to seeing it show up on the walls of the Rumpus room. Nau’s last album was a collaboration with Floating Action’s Seth Kauffman (a recent winner of our weekly #fridayfreshness forays over on the ‘Gram) while Nau himself was also a recent winner thanks to this album’s first single (the wonderful “Painting a Wall”) so I’d been slowly giving this one some spins before seeing it again on the Rumpus’ year end list. It was a welcome reminder to dive back in, though, and revisit some of the delights held within.
Similar to Green there’s a weary bleariness to a number of the songs, like waking up and groggily trying to piece together the events of the previous evening. Sometimes this comes with a country feel thanks to some slide steel (“Sharp Diamonds,” “Accompaniment”) while others come with orchestral elements to give a touch of elegance to the ennui. (“Tiny Flakes,” “Shapeshifting”) The sun does pierce through the fog occasionally, as on tracks like “And So On” and “Relearn to Boogie,” which have an almost tropical aloha feel to them with their surf-style guitar and uke. It’s the statelier stuff that’s been winning me over, though, and the aforementioned “Shapeshifting” and its equally potent partner “Long Distance Driver” have been getting stuck in my head for weeks now. They’re definitely two of my current faves, so sit back and bliss out to them here:
Last of the ones from our friends in the country’s corner is another I’d already found on my own, but dove back into after seeing it show up on their year end list. This one comes courtesy of one of the artists that was on both our lists — Dean Johnson (his debut landed in a three-way tie on top of my list, in case you forgot), who normally spends his time in the band Sons of Rainier alongside Sam Gelband, among others. (Gelband, for his part, moonlights as Mr Sam and the People People, whose debut landed at #12 on my 2022 list.) It was a busy year for Johnson because in addition to releasing his solo debut, his main band released their sophomore outing, Take me Anywhere. (Their first, Down in Pancake Valley, came out in 2018.)
It’s definitely more of a hit or miss affair for me than those side projects — perfectly pleasant (it has a bit of a lounge act feel to me at times that sort of runs the tunes together), but still with some solid moments strung across its fifteen tracks. The band’s at their best when the harmonies kick in, with Johnson and Gelband fusing their voices with those of songwriter Devin Champlin and Charlie Meyer beautifully, and there’s some quietly strong guitar parts strewn about as well. (They remind me a bit of John Andrews and the Yawns at times with their overall sound.) Once again the softer stuff is what hits me the hardest, with opening gem “Orion” and the smoldering “Reach for the Light” being my two current faves. Give both of them a listen here:
We’ll leave our friends from the Rumpus room now and move to a few finds from other (albeit less consistent) lists — the first from the venerable Wilco and Allmusic. Both highlighted the sophomore album from fellow Chicago band Fran, Leaving, and it’s another that’s been slowly growing on me in recent weeks. It’s their first in four years (their debut A Private Picture came out in 2019) and similar to several of the other albums highlighted here is another mostly subdued affair. (An understandable pattern we’re seeing for albums borne out of COVID-era lockdowns and all the ensuing uncertainties they entailed.) Their bio describes it as “sexy rock u can cry to” and despite not being super “rocky” that’s actually not too far from the truth.
Frontwoman Maria Jacobson’s voice remains a fragile, beautiful thing, lilting lightly on torch songs like the title track and “So Long” while adding a bit of swagger on more upbeat tunes like “Everybody” and “Winter.” There’s glimmers of Feist to how she shifts between heartbroken delicacy and defiant confidence and that dynamism gives the songs a stickiness that resonates beyond the immediate listen. My current faves are the opening tandem of “Limousine” and “Palm Trees,” as the former lurches seductively into the stately waltz of the latter, resplendent with strings and its urgent refrain. Good stuff — give the pair a peek here:
Last but not least comes one from my coworker Joker, who’s best known for his subpar work ethic, questionable fashion choices, and even worse musical tastes. And yet sometimes even a tone deaf tunesmith hits the right note, so for this rare shining moment thought it was worth letting him bask in the sunshine a little (before he goes back to wearing puffy purple coats and pushing atonal death metal like a sociopathic Grimace, that is…) Joker’s selection is the Portland by way of New London, Connecticut band Quiet Life and their fourth studio album, Foggy. It came out back in 2016 (Joker’s not the fastest at making up his mind so his lists often lag several years behind) and despite the delay (and the source) has some pretty decent tunes to dive into.
Their bio says the band specializes in “wide-open, twang-kissed Pacific Northwest Americana in the vein of the Lumineers, Head and the Heart, Shovels & Rope, and Trampled by Turtles” and I suppose you can catch glimmers of some of those acts across the album’s ten songs. There’s bright, buoyant tracks like “Summer of ’16” and “Finally Back” that sit nicely alongside slower fare like the title track and “September Rose” with its woozy barroom blues. Similar to the last album I’m again captivated by the opening tandem of tracks — the languid “Live Wire” (which reminds me of The Band with its shuffling melodies) and its successor “Lost in the Light” (which makes me think of a Bob Seger-led Laurel Canyon band for some reason). Both shine and set things off on a solid footing — check both of them out here:
That’s all for now — enjoy the big game and we’ll see you next time, amici…
–BS