Author: sunshine78

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Serious Reservations: Mourning the Loss of Anthony Bourdain

I hadn’t planned on checking in again so soon — I know all eight of my readers are still hungrily digesting the many layers of last week’s post — but in light of the sad, surprising news yesterday of Anthony Bourdain’s passing, it felt somewhat necessary. It’s the second time in less than a month I’ve found myself dealing with the loss of someone whose work I really respected and enjoyed. Who was incredibly talented, loved by thousands worldwide, and seemingly doing great, both professionally and personally. Who was funny, charming, and who’d survived rocky moments in their past and come out stronger and wiser on the other side. Who I found parallels to in myself in terms of personality and approach to life and who part of me wished I could become. And yet unfortunately for the second time in less than a month, none of those things mattered as this person ultimately felt so alone or overwhelmed by their demons that they took their own lives.

Which leaves the rest of us to sit stunned, searching for reasons why or ways to have detected and stopped it. You listen to the music or read the words or watch the footage looking for clues. You try to square the surface appearance with the subterranean turmoil and struggle when there’s no success. You search for reason in the unreasonable, sense in the senseless. And mostly you feel the loss — of a life gone too soon, of a talent that will provide no further offerings, and of an inspirational voice and spirit that will no longer rage against ignorance, intolerance, or the dying of the light.

And that’s the cruelest part, the one that will take the longest to scar over. If Scott Hutchison was the sentimental side of Sunshine, Bourdain was the snarky cerebral one. The one that loved food and the simple pleasures of preparing it for others, that loved learning about new places and people, that loved music, liquor, and the dark, dingy scene where those two so often mingle. He hated pretension, self-importance, and stupidity, and especially loathed the people who showcase or embrace all three. He seemed like the guy you’d love to be stuck in an enclosed space with, be it plane, train, or even an elevator between floors. He just seemed like someone you’d like to get to know — or already sort of did, thanks to his unvarnished books, shows, and interviews. (He also looked pretty similar to my old man, which I’m sure subconsciously heightened the connection.)

And yet — this person still felt like they couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t find the happiness or quiet they needed to get through the night. Couldn’t find that reason to keep trudging forward and trying to do better tomorrow. And so for the second time in less than a month, we find ourselves here. In a week where famed designer Kate Spade also took her own life. Where the CDC released their shocking report on the issue, which notes at least 45,000 Americans die by suicide each year, over half of whom have never shown signs of depression or mental illness. And where another famous artist released a much anticipated EP (I’m not calling something with seven songs and a 24 minute duration an album) almost exclusively about his mental illness.

One whose first track is titled “I Thought About Killing You” and talks about killing both himself and others. Whose cover says “I hate being bi-polar it’s awesome” and whose other tracks reference his bipolarity as his “superpower.” Which, like the rest of the EP-not-album, is both good and bad. The EP-not-album is ye and the artist is, of course, the relentlessly frustrating Kanye West. An undeniably talented person, one who has shown up on multiple year end lists here, and also a person whose narcissistic, at times odious personality gets in the way of that. He also happens to be someone who has had very public struggles with mental illness recently, canceling his sold-out 2016 tour after several on stage meltdowns that ultimately led to his hospitalization.

In this aspect West represents the other side of the coin, the person/icon whose struggles are well-known, in almost excruciating detail. If Hutchison and Bourdain suffered in silence (at least to outsiders like us), West suffers in plain sight, trumpeting his tribulations to the stratosphere, which as I mentioned before is both a good and bad thing. The good part is that he talks so openly about his illness and his struggles. Despite its brevity, West manages to talk about feelings of suicide and harming others, feelings of fear and overwhelming, and feeling that his illness is actually a strength and the source of his brilliance here. Bringing these thoughts, feelings, and conditions into the open and talking about them both removes the stigma around them and highlights how common some/all of them are, which is critical to breaking out of this horrible cycle.

The bad part is how flippant he is about it, celebrating his diagnosis while simultaneously using it as a defense, if not an outright discounting, for the worst of his actions. On tracks like “Yikes” and “Wouldn’t Leave” he references the recent outcry he caused in the news and talks lovingly about his wife’s not leaving him as a result, offering an almost “bros will be bros — I shoulda listened to my wife” rationale. Unfortunately what he’s glossing over were incredibly tone deaf and hurtful comments about slavery being a choice, the #Metoo movement, and defenses of the President’s worst impulses and actions that sparked the uproar in the first place. To use his illness as an excuse for things like this is cheap, inaccurate, and distracts from getting people the help they need. (It also ignores the thousands of people who suffer with this and DON’T do morally/socially repugnant things…)

The rest of the EP-not-album walks a similar line between good and bad, sometimes in the same song — the front half of the opening track is an unvarnished, rather alarming cry for help with West detailing his suicidal/homicidal thoughts, while the back half is a catchy, compelling little trap banger. Tracks like “All Mine” have some of West’s best recent lines (“I love your titties cuz they prove I can focus on two things at once”) and worst (“None of us would be here without cum”). Tracks like “Ghost Town” have great new samples and expansions of West’s soulful style, while also blatantly recycling snippets from his previous work. (The chorus/outro from “Runaway,” for one.) And tracks like “Violent Crimes” and “Wouldn’t Leave” take honest, heartfelt sentiments (love of a daughter and wife, respectively) and taints them with clumsy, clueless, and/or cringe-worthy comments. (In the case of “Crimes” West explores (somewhat uncomfortably) his daughter’s growing up and highlights his new understanding that women are to be nurtured and not conquered, both of which leave you asking “what the fuck, dude?”)

The EP-not-album perfectly reflects the mind of the person who made it, showing the rough edges and almost chaotic sensibility alongside some characteristic brilliance (caveats aside, “Yikes” and “Ghost Town are pretty fantastic, and the rest of the tracks have grown on me over the course of repeated listens this week), its warts and winners duality serving as a solid sonic example of its author’s bipolarity. Which gets back to the central question of what are we to do with people who are suffering like this to get them the help they need? Whether it’s people like West with his in your face struggles or those like Hutchison and Bourdain who fall in the other half of the population, potentially showing no signs at all despite grappling with the same feelings.

There’s hotlines and help groups and those are wonderful, critical things. There’s also a piece that falls to us, though — to be more aware of those around us and how our words/actions affect them. To ask more questions and listen to the answers instead of talking at or over people. To live up to slogans like “Do Unto Others” and “If You See Something, Say (/Do) Something.” And just generally to give a shit about the people passing their days in your town/country/planet. Remember that for every soft-spoken sweetheart like Scott Hutchison there’s a loudmouthed narcissist like Kanye West — both people can deliver brilliant, beautiful things and still be dealing with demons and therefore need your help. So channel your inner Bourdain — be curious, be kind, and learn about those around you, so maybe one day we won’t find ourselves here quite so often: struggling to explain the inexplicable and the loss of another individual who felt they had nothing left to live for.

–BS

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Shaky Knees, Sturdy Hearts: Rolling Blackouts, Wild Reeds, and a Girl Name Greta

Thought I’d capitalize on a break from the rain and a rather wild week (there was an in house rat battle, a flooded basement, and a prematurely balding puppy, among other subtle joys) to finally stop in to recap my fantastic trip down to Atlanta a few weeks back for Shaky Knees. It was a new discovery for me, a three day festival in the heart of downtown that had somehow flown under my radar, and based on this year’s outstanding lineup (as well as an “are you KIDDING me?!” review of the previous four after the fact) I don’t know how I slept on it this long.

This year’s big ticket bands were acts like Queens, Franz, the National, BRMC, Cake, and others, but it was that review of the previous years’ offerings that really drove home how much of a peach this thing has been. Just check out a sampling (which I promise is nowhere NEAR exhaustive) from those lineups: LCD Soundsystem, the Strokes, Wilco, Frightened Rabbit, the Kills, Eagles of Death Metal, Black Pistol Fire, Built to Spill, Death from Above, Interpol, Neutral Milk Hotel, Silversun Pickups, At the Drive-in, Lumineers, Band of Horses, Pixies (twice), Cage the Elephant (twice), Manchester Orchestra (twice), Parquet Courts (twice), the Orwells (twice), Foals (twice), as well as Spoon, Modest Mouse, the Replacements, Violent Femmes, the National (again), and Alabama Shakes, the last seven of which all played in the magnificent 2014 spread. That’s an insane collection of excellent bands and the festival was an absolute blast — the venue was really nice, smack in the middle of a park surrounded by people’s homes and apartments (we’re still not entirely sure where the people went — were they evacuated to FEMA trailers along the coast or did they hole up and get free entry to the shows?), the weather was great, cool and dry, both from rain and the fabled humidity that will undoubtedly appear in the coming months, and the crowds were all super chill, reasonably sized, and actually listening to the music instead of talking (!), which is a borderline miracle compared to other festivals. They also had a near-infinite supply of corn dogs — jalapeno AND regular! — which was a crucial (albeit unexpected) requirement for one of my travel companion’s enjoyment.

All told we caught roughly three dozen bands over the three days (with my companion eating a comparable number of corn dogs in that span) and while I may have missed some stellar offerings in years past, I won’t make the same mistake moving forward — this one jumps to the top of the list for future festival seasons (particularly with Lolla’s downward trend in recent years, culminating in this year’s disaster, which will have me skipping for the first time in over a decade…) Here’s some of the noteworthy discoveries made by Bobby and his merry band of sunbeams:

The prize of day one was Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever, a batch of boys from Down Undaaaaah, which despite their rather clunky name throws down some really crisp, solid tunes. Singer/guitarist Fran Keaney leads the band’s triple guitar attack, which finds himself, Tom Russo, and Joe White hammering out bright, sprightly lines in conjunction with bassist Joe Russo and drummer Marcel Tussie. That three-part guitarmony gives the songs a Strokesy feel at times, with one or two banging out brisk, jittery chords while the other serves up bright, clean harmonies that dance along on top. Meanwhile Russo and Tussie keep the train on the tracks, driving the groove and getting the crowd moving. It was a solid introduction to what will hopefully be a strong full-length debut in the near-future — check out “Heard You’re Moving” for a taste in the meantime:

The hands down winner of day two (and probably the whole weekend, outside particularly strong sets from Queens and the National) was the mind/ear/headfuck Greta Van Fleet. The confusion comes not from their music — at least not how it sounds, which is a spot-on expansion/reinterpretation of classic era Led Zeppelin. The dissonance comes from who is making it — a quartet of teenagers from Frankenmuth, Michigan — and how good it is. And it’s real good — both in emulation and excellence. It’s honestly uncanny. Close your eyes and listen to the opening of “Safari Song” and when the vocals come in thirty seconds later tell it’s frontman (frontboy? He’s the old guy in the group and he’s 22 GD years old!) Josh Kiszka and not Robert Plant.

The effect is even more jarring in person — the band has perfected almost every play from the Zepp playbook. Frontman who howls and wails wearing paisley hippie-inspired garb? Check. Nimble fingered guitarist who leans back with his legs splayed as if caught mid-stride, casually ripping off guitar parts while shaking his head at the crowd? Check. Thundering drummer who shall be rewarded with a solo of his own during the set? Check. And yet somehow it doesn’t come across as derivative or flimsy imitation. The songs are instantly enjoyable rockers with some pretty solid rhythms and riffs, and the band puts on a hell of a performance, blowing the crowd’s faces off before the nearby restaurants started serving the blue hairs. The trick will be whether they can sustain it — similar to another band of brothers/relatives who effortlessly channeled earlier legends and made a name on incendiary live performances, Kings of Leon, it will be interesting to see if Greta keep riding the airwaves of Zepp or eventually morph into something else entirely (which in the case of Kings, while still mostly enjoyable, will never hold a candle to the fiery, furious excellence of their early albums). We’ll see what these Michiganders have in store for us — in the meantime, let’s enjoy the timewarp while we’ve got it. Check out “Highway Tune” and crank it up:

Last up is day three’s champion, a warm, comforting counterpoint to the raucous, rowdy winner of the previous day (and the night that followed), the Wild Reeds. Originally a three piece from LA sporting folk tunes with an equal number of harmonies, lead singers Kinsey Lee, Sharon Silva, and Mackenzie Howe added a bassist and drummer in recent years to showcase a fuller sound. It works nicely — the beautiful harmonies are still there (the three ladies’ voices go together incredibly well), but the additional instruments gives them (and the broader songs) some extra weight than before. Starting the day listening to these guys, their voices wafting lovingly out over the field in the glowing sun, was the warm embrace we needed while we laid there nursing hangovers. (I in particular needed it, after Corn Dog called me a see you next Tuesday multiple times while playing Mario Kart at the bar. #wordshurt) Really pretty stuff — check out “Only Songs” off their latest album and bliss out:

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We’ll close with a couple good reads (and one good watch) found over the past week, all looking back at some pretty solid albums from years gone by. First we’ll stay in the year mentioned in the Wild Reeds song with Pitchfork’s rundown of the classic Raekwon album Only Built 4 Cuban Linx. Released back in the golden era of Wu albums — this was number three in that fabled first five solo outings, behind Meth and Dirty and just before GZA and Ghost — and it reminds you just how good the guys were in the early days. Worth taking a trip back to the heyday.

Next comes Stereogum’s remembrance of the Smashing Pumpkins’ Adore, which turns 20 this year. This one often gets a bad rap — which as the article notes almost anything following the sprawling, monumental Mellon Collie would — but is one I always enjoyed. True, it marked a departure from some of the more majestic rock moments the band had become known for, instead introducing both electronic elements and a more oppressive melancholy than seen before, but there are some really pretty songs on here that have stood up well the past twenty years. (“Perfect,” “Tear,” “To Sheila,” etc.) The change transitions well to the band’s next album, Machina, which was a brighter pop counterpoint to Adore (and the last of the band’s great albums).

Last is the latest in Pitchfork’s great “Explore X (In 5 Minutes)” series, this time covering the Buzzcock’s classic Singles Going Steady album. This one’s a punk pop gem from the band I was lucky enough to finally see last summer at Riot Fest, which as the video shows is full of some great tunes. Give it a watch and see how many songs you already knew (without knowing who sang em).

That’s all for now — happy Fri-ye day, all! Off to start exploring the latest from Yeezy now!

— Sunshine

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Sad Hare Here: Mourning the Loss of Scott Hutchison

I’d planned to post this weekend about my recent trip to Atlanta for the newly discovered Shaky Knees Festival, but that got scuttled by the terrible news that Frightened Rabbit frontman Scott Hutchison had first gone missing several days ago and then was found dead yesterday, an apparent suicide. It’s stunning to an extent — like so many folks posting in the wake of the news, I’d seen him recently for the wonderful anniversary tour of Midnight Organ Fight and he was his warm, jokey self onstage — but for those who love the band, it also isn’t a total surprise. Hutchison had long battled a range of demons, whether depression and heartache or drugs and alcohol, laying his struggles bare in his confessional lyrics. It’s partly what made so many fall in love with the band — you easily identified with either those particular difficulties or the bravery and honesty it took for him to sing about them in public every night. And that’s what’s so saddening — that despite what seemed like a bedrock solid support network of his bandmates (which includes his brother Grant), fellow musicians (both in his native Glasgow and here in the States, all of whom are posting their regrets online), and the perpetual outpouring of love from fans night after night, it still wasn’t enough.

As someone who hasn’t had the sunniest backstory himself (despite my nickname and cheery demeanor), I understood Hutchison from the outset — a bearded Scotsman occasionally plagued by dark and stormy moods, but who refused to be defeated by them, taking the piss out of the situation (and himself) with a dry, at times devastating sense of humor. It was like finding you had a twin — albeit a funnier, nicer, and far more talented one. My discovery of him (and the band) came with that beloved second album, like so many other folks. It being ten years ago I no longer remember the specific song that blew open the hatches for me — “Keep Yourself Warm” or “Heads Roll Off” probably — but I clearly remember that mix of stark honesty, seething heartache, and blistering humor that filled both those songs and so many others on that album (“Poke,” “Backwards Walk,” “The Twist,” etc.) resonated like a cannon shot, being in the midst of a similarly imploding relationship at the time. It was a combination that would become the band’s hallmark and it was a connection that only deepened over the subsequent decade.

And that’s what’s been running through my mind the last 24 hours as I try to process the loss of this tremendous talent (and seemingly wonderful human) and the end of a much beloved band. It’s those moments we’ve shared over the years and seeing what this band means to me shared with (and by) so many others. It’s that first show ten years ago in the same dark, dingy room I saw them in two months ago, singing songs that made your heart soar (then and now). It’s that show back home in Chicago, outside in the park with 50 people at a festival singing their heads off after a heavy rain. It’s seeing the crowds grow from those humble beginnings to the giant masses seen at any number of shows since then, selling out far bigger venues in recent years. It’s seeing two of your best friends fall in love to (and with) this band in both their early years. It’s seeing your wife latch onto the band (something she rarely does outside Adele and Bieber), potentially identifying those similarly fetching (and vexing) traits in Hutchison that she had in the guy next to her. It’s seeing a room full of strangers come together in a moment of pure exhilaration, time and time again, clapping and shouting at the end of “The Loneliness and the Scream” like they just won the World Cup.

The constant for every one of those memories (and evenings) is their being filled with people singing along to these songs — loudly, joyfully, and without abandon. These songs of love, loss, hope — and what turns out to be just a little too much hurt, if only for the man that wrote them.

This is a really sad day and a really big loss — here’s to hoping he finally found the quiet that he needed, beyond the gaze of what bothered him here on the ground.

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Cool Breeze — A Springtime Sampler

It’s been slim pickings lately musically — not a lot of new releases after the glut from the holidays and not much in the way of shows, either. Seems like everyone’s still in hibernation, waiting for the cold to finally break and spring to finally show its face. Not that I can complain much — between the puppy and the new gig I haven’t had much in the way of free time, instead passing the hours trying to teach an animal to sit, stay, and remember his name and an office to automate, replicate, and fight at scale. Both efforts have been slow, but making progress, so thought I’d slip away to highlight a few choice items that’ve soundtracked the march to the future. First, it’s the latest from Run the Jewels who recently completed their tour with Lorde and continue their flawless run of releases. This one’s a product of that former pairing with El remixing one of Lorde’s new tracks (“Supercut”) and stamping the pistol and fist on it with a couple solid verses. It works well, marrying the cool, slightly haunting vibe of the melody/Lorde’s voice with Mike and El’s characteristic heat. Check it out here:

Next marks the return of Drake with a couple upbeat releases, and thankfully it’s fun, upbeat Drake, not the mopey, melancholic incarnation we’ve been getting so much of lately. He recently showed up on a remix of N.E.R.D.’s track “Lemon,” which was a catchy little earworm sporting a solid opening verse from Drake and a smoking, swaggering one from Ri. Thankfully he keeps the fire going on his latest release, which notes in the opening line that he knows shorty doesn’t want no slow song. Far be it for Drake to leave a lady disappointed, so he gives the girls what they asked for, three and a half minutes of fun. It’s a welcome return, with a bouncy Lauryn Hill sample to boot, so click play and have a little fun.

Lastly, it was 4/20 yesterday so naturally the LA punks from FIDLAR decided to show up and release a new song. For a band who so gleefully sings about drinking and drugs in their many forms and incantations, they haven’t strayed far from the mold here — but as a fan of those previous offerings, there’s something to be said about the simple pleasures of songs about life’s simple pleasures. This, like the rest of their material, isn’t going to win any awards for lyrical complexity and depth (or the approval of many parents and medical professionals), but it’s fun, catchy, and fits in flawlessly with the rest of their work. So turn off your critical thinking, crack a cold one, and crank up the volume with the kids from California:

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Actually, since it’s playoff hockey season (the greatest of all postseason sports, whether my Hawks are there or not) we’ll sneak one more in before the final buzzer. I caught this article on Stereogum this morning on the 20th anniversary of Massive Attack’s classic third album Mezzanine (exhibit #6767 I am OAF) that is worth a read. It does a good job talking not only about the importance of the album based on the quality of the songs (and as good as Blue Lines was, loaded with some absolute monsters like “Unfinished Sympathy,” this one’s hands down my favorite), but also that intangible quality it has, which is at turns foreboding, mysterious, dangerous, and sensuous — often all at the same time. And it’s that quality that really sets the album apart — the article talks about how often it’s been used in TV and film because of how instantly it calls those emotions to mind, and it does the same for me despite 20 years of heavy listening.

It still reminds me of being a twenty-something kid in Chicago, listening to the album obsessively in a way I never listened to their other albums (and still don’t), and one of my favorite things was to get the DJ at the Artful Dodger (one of my long-gone, but never forgotten favorite dives) to play “Inertia Creeps” as the final song of the evening as everyone closed out their tabs and decided where the rest of the night would take them. It’s by far my favorite song on the album (and a top contender for my favorite overall) and I loved watching how the room would respond. It’s an amazing track — part sinister, part sexual, a little cold, a little hot — it’s impossible to get a hold of, and that was the magic of seeing it spread through the room like a fog. Some folks would keep dancing, connecting with the sultrier undertones, some would look around uneasily, sensing the menace, others would just close their eyes and enjoy the song, excellent as it is. It was one of my favorite ways to end the evening (as this was still part of the decades-long span where females found me as interesting as spring training reports and tube socks) and I think of it every time I hear this song. So pop it on and see what it does for you — until next time, amici.. –BS

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Run Rabbit Run

It being St Patty’s Day weekend and all, I thought I’d channel the luck of the Irish (and UMBC, and Loyola Chicago, and Michigan… #marchmadness!) and a bit of my heritage to post about…a beloved Scottish band (cut me some slack, they’re close…) And like those two countries’ histories, which are so closely intertwined, the boys from Frightened Rabbit have been pairing up lately with some interesting artists on tracks that are worth a listen.

The most pronounced partnership appears to be their forthcoming one as Mastersystem, which has Rabbit frontman Scott Hutchison and his brother Grant (the band’s drummer) teaming up w/ Editors guitarist Justin Lockey and his brother James (from Minor Victories). The lead single “Notes on a Life Not Quite Lived” is a promising sign of what’s to come — a more revved up version of a Rabbit tune and a less electro/synthy version of the Editors’ recent work, which works rather nicely. Based on the Stereogum article that initially caught my eye, the four say this is a full-fledged venture and not a side project, so we’ll see how they juggle this with their regular bands. Hopefully they’ll make their way through town in the near future after the album drops in April.  In the meantime check out the single here:

Next is one of the tracks from the recent Recorded Songs EP that I missed when it came out in September, “How It Gets In.” It’s a lovely little pairing of Hutchison’s voice with that of Julien Baker, whose delicate delivery and lyrics of heartache work quite nicely with those Rabbit regulars, as evidenced on her recent debut. We’ll see if the two cross paths again in the future (perhaps on her sophomore outing?), but if not we’ll have this one to enjoy. Check it out here:

Lastly we’ll close with the pairing of Hutchison and Manchester Orchestra frontman Andy Hull from several years ago, “Architect,” which is just a great song showcasing a pitch perfect marriage of those two singular voices (just like the Irish and Scottish! #fullcircle). It’s a really pretty song, one that makes you wish the two would find something else to work on together soon. Five years is a long time to wait once you know something this good is possible. See for yourself while we hold out for more here:

And just because we can, we’ll close with a freebie, one of the many gems from their sophomore effort The Midnight Organ Fight, which I had the pleasure to see them perform live last month for the tenth anniversary of that classic. It was a pretty magic night — they’ve been touring to venues they played when that album first came out instead of the big rooms they now readily sell out, which meant they played at my beloved Black Cat here, so was pretty amazing to see a favorite play such a great album in such a small space. I could have picked pretty much anything from this one to show you why these guys are so good, but this one’s always been a favorite of mine — it showcases the unflinching honesty and emotion that Hutchison regularly shares with his smart, sharp lyrics, and has a lovely melody to boot. One of many faves (from this album and all their others) — give it a listen here:

Until next time, amici… -BS

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A Quick One While He’s Away (Sleeping in His Tiny Bed in the Sun)

Thought I’d capitalize on a brief moment of respite in another double shift on puppy patrol where we thankfully seem to have shifted from constantly pissing and shitting on everything in the vicinity (including himself) to constantly biting everything in said space (including himself).  I’ll take the pain over the horrifying aromas at unholy hours — gladly — but wanted to highlight a couple finds before he starts needling me again and I lose a couple fingers and the ability to type.  First is the latest single from beloved songstress Neko Case whose upcoming album is her first since 2013’s disappointing The Worse Things Get, The Harder I Fight, The Harder I Fight, The More I Love You.  Case is a big favorite of mine with a voice that sounds like heaven should, so it was unfortunate that album was a letdown for me. (Her previous Middle Cyclone and its predecessor Fox Confessor Brings the Flood were far greater efforts in my book.)  We’ll see what the latest album brings — the cover art is a little odd, with Case wearing a wig of cigarettes…because…..ummmmmmmm…..why not? The song itself is a little off-kilter, too, with an eerie xylophone chiming in before the song snaps into place a couple minutes in. It’s a promising enough start, though — Case’s voice sounds fantastic and the lyrics are her characteristic blend of narrative and understated, unexpected impact, like a pillow with a brick inside (“God is not a contract or a guy… God is a lusty tire fire…;” “My voice is not the liquid waves… my voice is straight garroting wire;” “Nothing quite so poison as a promise”) Hopefully the rest of the album carries on the trend.  Check it out the title track in the meantime here:

Next is the lead single from former Talking Heads frontman David Byrne’s first solo outing in 14 years, Utopia. He’s spent the intervening time doing pretty much everything under the sun — dabbling in British electro, collaborating with St Vincent, playing all forms of world music, as well as the occasional apartment building — but nothing compares to his efforts in his former band. His latest is no different for me — even this song, which sounded so energetic and cool on Colbert (almost like classic Heads) sounds neutered in the studio. It’s too bad because based on this clip I had the track stuck in my head for half the day after the performance, so was hoping for something more. Save yourself the letdown and just watch the below:

We’ll close with the second single from the ever-restless Courts’ upcoming album, which shows the band shifting sounds yet again (they’re trying to compress Byrne’s 14+ years of experimenting into 14 months it seems), this time morphing into a straight up funk band. And as preposterous as that sounds…it kind of works! These guys can be exasperating in their almost willful defiance of giving people what they want, but if it leads to winners like this I’ll take a little more calculated rebellion. See what you think here:

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A Mighty Wind: A Medley From the Heart of the Storm

Now that the bomb cyclone has passed and there’s a momentary lull in the whirlwind of shit-smeared puppies and 3AM wakeup whimpers that have dominated my week, I thought I’d sneak in to offer a couple tunes I found while in the midst of those early morning encounters. First are a pair of singles from bands whose early stuff I really liked before the spell faded on recent outings, the first from British electro outfit Simian Mobile Disco, the latter from nearby Baltimore duo Wye Oak.  Simian’s debut ten years ago was a solid effort representing one of the early waves of acts that eventually developed into the tsunami of DJs that’s been plaguing festivals and airwaves in recent years. (Check out “Hustler” for an instant entree/party from that one.) The pair’s early buzz largely got drowned out by the subsequent squall of feedback from acts like Skrillex, Armin van Buuren, Steve Aoki, etc, but the UK duo could always be counted on for slinky, uptempo outings like the below from their upcoming album.  I will be curious to hear how the rest of it sounds, based on this — might be worth revisiting them again…

As for Wye Oak, their early efforts were a moodier, more indie affair, serving as the soundtrack to a dingy dive bar shilling cans of Hamms vs a swank club sporting Stolis and soda.  And while the pristine production was what often lured you in to the former outfit, here the allure is the voice of frontwoman Jenn Wasner, a delicate, throaty thing that draws you towards its warmth like a siren through thick fog. Their peak for me was 2011’s Civilian (check out the title track for my favorite offering there), before they went the way of so many bands these days (much to my chagrin, as my eight devoted readers know well) and added synths for 2014’s Shriek, which was where I left them.  Similar to Simian, the new single has me curious what the new album will hold — will it be more of a return to their early outings or a more balanced version of their last one where the synths are mostly muted? Time will tell, but in the meantime enjoy this one, a pretty little ditty:

Next comes the latest single from yet another act whose early stuff was much loved before losing me on later affairs, this time from the ever vexing (and occasionally insufferable) Father John Misty.  His first two albums are recent favorites of mine — his sophomore outing  I Love You, Honeybear landed at #5 on my 2015 list — but his recent album Pure Comedy was a self-important, over-inflated disappointment.  Hopefully this latest track is an indication he’s going back to what worked best — not self-indulgent lyrics littered with snide sermons seemingly intent on wowing you cerebrally, but sharp, self-effacing lines looking more to puncture your heart or make you laugh.  This one’s a promising indicator he might be leaning towards the latter, recounting a (fictional?) encounter in a hotel lobby that’s textbook Misty.

We’ll close with the latest from two continued faves, Bon Iver and Parquet Courts.  The former has been playing a song, “Hayward, WI,” recently while touring for the 10th anniversary of his amazing debut, For Emma, Forever Ago.  Written at the same time as that classic, it’s only recently been seeing the light of day, but hopefully will get a formal release soon.  It’s vintage Vernon, all gauzy vocals and warm, woozy melody — so check it out here:

Last up is the latest from the beloved Courts, whose upcoming album was recorded with Danger Mouse of all people.  These guys are never ones to play it safe (or stand still, constantly dabbling in hit or miss side projects), but when they’re recording under the main moniker there’s not many better.  This one’s another winner, a two part whammy that shows just how irresistible these guys can be. Check it out:

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Doom and Diplo-macy, Pumpkins and Jewels — A Medley of Neutral Milk

Well — I had planned to pop in for a quick update since I’d caught a couple interesting items worth flagging over the week, but of course all my simple pleasures must become infuriatingly over-complicated clusters lately, so it’s taken me over an hour to find a way to log in here as my computer thinks the site is malicious and it keeps telling me my passwords are wrong (and won’t allow me to change them).  Fucking GD technology…

AAAAAAAANYhow — I finally found a way in, so before Agent Smith and his cronies find me here’s a couple things to wrap your ears around…  We’ll continue the trend of the last post and keep riding around on our hiphoppopotamus, stomping ’round the riverside in search of some banging beats. First find is the lead single from the upcoming collaboration between MF Doom and Czarface, the side project of Wu-tang’s Inspectah Deck (along with Boston duo Esoteric and 7L).  I’ve always thought Deck was the most underappreciated and lyrically lethal member of the Wu (check his verse in “Protect Ya Neck” for but one outstanding sample), but like almost everything about those guys, what you often get is a frustratingly inconsistent tangle of tunes to sort through. So the Czarface project, which is three albums in at this point, is an at times exciting endeavor, with verses from fellow Clansmen Ghostface, GZA, and Meth, along with efforts from Action Bronson, Large Professor, and even DJ Premier, but also occasionally muddled and mediocre. (The comic book backdrop for rap is somewhat tired at this point, similar to the martial arts influences of Deck’s original group.)

Doom is the same way — at times brilliant lyrically, throwing out choice lines over killer beats — but too often he gets tripped up in schtick: trying to be funny, or adhering to closely to the cartoony gimmick of his comic book alter ego (or both).  Which is why this pairing makes perfect sense, makes you a little nervous, and makes you salivate.  They’ve worked together before — “Ka-Bang!” on Czarface’s second album, 2015’s Every Hero Needs a Villain was a highlight on what I still think is that outfit’s strongest outing — and the single is pretty solid.  There’s just that note of hesitation in your head because you suspect the album (due out in March) will be another up and down affair and not the home run you hope for.  Time will tell, but in the meantime enjoy the single (and check out the second album):

Next are a couple more singles to entertain the ears from a pair of hip hop influenced producers, one from BOOTS and one from the tireless Diplo.  First is BOOTS’ latest, which again pairs him with favorites Run the Jewels (a duo who is nothing if not consistent — pure fire purveyors for three straight albums now!) and the marriage still works.  Mike and El’s verses are hands down the best part of the song, which get a little limp when BOOTS and Cristin Milioti are cooing at the end, but as usual it’s worth the price of admission to hear those two go to work.  So come on in and check it out yourself:

As for Diplo’s latest, it has him showcasing some new feathers, which is a nice change of pace.  Instead of his usual high octane numbers with battle bots squaring off against reggae Rastas in a sweaty dancehall, he goes downtempo (and downright cinematic) in this one.  Featuring Virginia rapper DRAM, this one’s a languid little thing bound for car commercials or movie trailers.  Good to see Dip showing his range and continuing his sonic explorations.  Check it out here:

We’ll close with a couple articles on indie acts/albums near and dear to my heart — first a solid writeup on the 20th anniversary of Neutral Milk Hotel’s In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, which as the article details is a much-beloved — and much-maligned — gem from the late 90s. I fall into the former camp (I still remember how gobsmacked I was by the ‘nothing else on planet Earth sounds like this’ carnival of a lead single, “Holland, 1945”), but along with the author I get what can drive people into the latter (Mangum has a voice similar to Corin Tucker from beloved Sleater-Kinney, you either love it or hate it immediately).  It still holds up for me all these years later, though, particularly the nakedness of it, that uncomfortable, unabashed openness. “Oh Comely” is the one I come back to most, its beautiful melody and unbridled angst feeling like bleeding out in a bathtub, with Mangum’s knocking on the guitar acting as an ebbing heartbeat before the brass band marches in and drives you back to life.  It, like most of the album, is a strange, spellbinding affair — but one that’s not easy to ignore. Pop this one on while you read the writeup:

Last we’ll close with another solid list from Stereogum that follows on the heels of the announcement that hometown legends Smashing Pumpkins would be going on tour again soon, but this time with some noteworthy restrictions. One, it would be the first time this much of the original lineup would be performing — Corgan and Chamberlain would remain from recent lineups, but this time it’ll be a real Jim Jam as guitarist James Iha will accompany the pair on the road (though still no D’arcy).  Two, they will only play tunes from the early albums — Gish through MACHINA — which means these setlists are going to be chock full of classics.  Three, as any good Chicagoan would they’ve decided to give DC the middle finger and steer clear of this shitbox, so I might be fueling up for a road trip soon.  The news has me pretty excited, and I’ve been on a bit of a bender since then, going back through my favorite tunes that didn’t make the list  (Stumbleine? Silverfuck?), but they do a decent job hitting the high notes.  Their number one of “Cherub” is a no-brainer, but for me nothing will top the break at the end of “Rocket” for my vote for the band at its most exhilarating.  Click play and crank it as loud as you possibly can — and get ready for the release.  Until next time, amici…

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Rainy Day Revelations: Scottish Hip Hop

Since this weekend is apparently going to be a total washout weather-wise (still better than being at the office), thought I’d grab another gold medal in my in house Olympics to tell you about another band I’ve been digging on lately, Young Fathers.  I found them as part of my periodic perusing of the Mercury Prize nominees — the UK’s list of best acts year to year, which similar to our Grammys often is a mess of poppy nonsense that otherwise obscures a few gems buried underneath.  It takes some digging — for every Coldplay and U2 nomination there is to push past (and other British obsessions like Elbow and PJ Harvey, who win seemingly whenever they put something out), I’ve found some really good stuff here over the years — Badly Drawn Boy’s debut, Turin Brakes’, the Doves’,  Tom McRae’s — to warrant the effort. (I do the same with the Canadian version, the Polaris Prize, in case you’re looking for other ways to join the hunt rather than rely on yours truly.)

So I first listened to them when they won the prize in 2014, surprising other media darlings like Damon Albarn and FKA twigs (as well as others I actually liked, such as Nick Mulvey’s, Jungle’s, and Royal Blood’s debuts, all of which landed on my best of list). For whatever reason it didn’t click at the time (I was so young and naive then…), but it started to with their album the following year, White Men are Black Men Too, which showcased the trio’s mix of Massive Attack-style electro and hip hop and TV on the Radio’s wide-ranging sonics, harmonies, and dissonance (before they got terrible). Scotland isn’t the first place you’d expect to see a hip hop act spring from (or the fiftieth for that matter), and it doesn’t sound like you’d expect (Sean Connery shouting at a passerby comes to mind), but it’s a pleasant surprise once unearthed.

Frontman Alloysious Massaquoi is a vocal chameleon — sometimes sounding like Pharrell, other times crooning in a lovely falsetto — while Kayus Bankole and G. Hastings tap in and out with rougher, more accented lines to balance things out.  It works more times than not — tracks like “Shame,” “Rain or Shine,” “Nest,” and “John Doe” on White Men showcase the aforementioned references nicely (as does “Voodoo in my Blood” from the following year, which found them formally pairing with Massive), while songs like “I Heard,”  “Come to Life,” “Only Child,” and “Mr. Martyr” are solid ones from Tape Two. I still prefer those albums (and Tape One) to their prize-winning Dead, but tracks like “Low” and “Get Up” are both winners from there, and the album does grow on you over time. The band has a new album coming out later this year (9 March) and the latest single “In My View” has me excited to see what else is there.  In the meantime, check out a sampling I’ve assembled to get you ready:

We’ll close with a couple odds and sods from the week and mostly keep with the theme of the post (either Scottish or esoteric hip hop), starting with the former and the latest single from fellow Scotsmen Franz Ferdinand whose latest album dropped Friday and has been running on repeat over the weekend.  It’s a largely upbeat affair — still not as irresistibly infectious as their classic debut, opting for more of a disco flavor than that one’s guitar-based fire, but better so far than their last offering, 2013’s Right Thoughts, Right Words, Right Action. One of the winners is this one, “Lazy Boy,” which follows on the heels of the previous single, the equally tasty title track, both of which hearken back to that debut’s fury.  I’m looking forward to seeing them live again in a couple months — start a party in your living room in the meantime:

Next, we’ll hit on the latter piece of the theme (hippity hop from surprising places) and the latest from Beach Fossils who dropped another pretty, blissed out dream of a song this week (do they record any other kind?), this one a cover of baby-faced Swedish rapper (that’s right — Sweden has rappers too!) Yung Lean.  It’s right in line with the rest of the band’s stuff, which as my eight readers know is well loved by Bobby Sunshine. Check it out here:

And we’ll close with something unrelated, an article commemorating the 20th anniversary of Pearl Jam’s Yield, which as the author argues has aged well over the years and remains an underappreciated album by the tireless legends, particularly the closing track “In Hiding.”  (It’s also the latest evidence I am OAF…)  Put this one on while you read the article and see if you can keep your concentration by the time Ed Ved gets to the chorus.  Enjoy!

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Sunshine from the Swamp — All Ty-ed up With Regret(tes)

It’s been a week since everything got better and our civic leaders solved what’s been ailing us — for another two weeks! — and if you’re like me you’ve been walking around basking in the glow of that victory, striding just a little more confidently than normal and smiling irrepressibly at their vision and valiance.  Like a chubby kid who just walked up a flight of stairs instead of taking the escalator to the Cinnabon, it’s time to reward ourselves for testing our limits and digging so deep.   Extra icing, please — I earned it!  It’s either all that winning or the residual joy of a couple more new discoveries that got me through the week — who can say for sure?  In case it’s only the latter, though, I thought I’d pop in to share just in case the former lets us down again soon.  Not that it would. That metaphorical fat kid’s totally fine. We all are.  Let’s have seconds!

And seconds we shall have, for as I mentioned I’ve been enjoying a couple more finds from those year end lists that I didn’t have time to get to in the last post — despite my chiseled appearances I am merely human — one a newcomer and the other the most egregious example of “how the fu#$ did I MISS this before?!” of the bunch.  We’ll start with the former and the debut album from The Regrettes, Feel Your Feelings Fool!  Those two items tell you everything you need to know off the bat — the name, which hearkens back to the army of 60s era pop groups with “The” in their names, one for almost literally every letter of the alphabet (Coasters/Drifters/Falcons/Safaris/etc), and the title, whose imperative gives a sense of the punky, teenage snark the band marries to that sound, both in attitude and its lyrics. It’s a fun mix, and when those two sides are in equilibrium it’s pretty damn irresistible, as on tracks like “A Living Human Girl” and “Seashore,” the former of which should officially be the modern feminist anthem.  Funny, no bullsh#$, and GOFY if you don’t like it lyrics that perfectly counterbalance the bubblegum doo wop sound, it’s two and a half minutes of perfection.

Other tracks tip a little more towards the punkier side, with frontwoman Lydia Night’s throaty voice commanding your attention with a Vader-like death-grip similar to The Detroit Cobras’ Rachel Nagy. (A similarly rebellious, albeit more R&B leaning, high octane garage band.) Tracks like “I Don’t Like You,” “Hey Now,” “Juicebox Baby,” “Lucy Loo,” and “Ladylike/WHATTA BITCH” all are fast-paced little gems.  There are a couple tepid tracks interspersed in the middle, but there’s enough goodness from the aforementioned tracks and a couple others (“Hot,” “Til’ Tomorrow”) to forgive those minor downsides. (It is a debut album from a quartet of teenagers after all — that this much is so good is even more impressive.)  Give em a listen here:

The back half of the discovery sedan is filled with an unexpected bounty of treats provided by the insanely prolific Ty Segall, who caught my attention with his self-titled album on those year end lists, but before I could even fully digest that one and delve too deep into his back catalog he actually released another album yesterday — the monster nineteen song, 75 min double album Freedom’s Goblin, which I’m working through as we speak.  And while that may seem fast for normal humans, it’s actually not that odd when you look at his past output — Goblin represents his TWELFTH solo album in ten years, to go along with several side projects (two from Fuzz, among others) and EPs, including THREE albums in 2012 alone!  That’s approaching Bob Pollard levels of productivity and breadth (not to mention quality, from what I’ve gotten through so far).

Segall is a furiously good guitar player, who balances his garage rock fire with a Beatles-like embrace of melody and psychedelia, as well as more experimental fare.  Noisy, pretty, grungy, trippy — there’s a little something for everyone in his albums, sometimes all at once, as on gems like 2010’s Melted and 2014’s Manipulator, as well as so far on Goblin.  Prior to yesterday I’d been spending most of my time blazing through those two albums and last year’s offering, but we’ll have to expand those efforts a bit now that the latest album is here.  Pitchfork wrote a pretty great primer on Segall’s sound and how wide-ranging (and good) it is, so dive into that along with some selections from the aforementioned three albums I’ve made for you below.  There’s also a great acoustic performance from the new album that Segall did a couple weeks ago on The Opposition to get you started on that one.  Enjoy!

We’ll close with a couple new singles from bands whose debuts I adored, but whose later offerings left me a little cooler — first is the new one from The Vaccines, a UK four-piece whose first album What did you Expect from the Vaccines? was 35 minutes of pop rock perfection that landed at #5 on my 2011 best of list before losing me a bit on their follow up, 2012’s Coming of Age.  This one captures some of the unrestrained energy and brightness from the former, so hopefully the rest of the album follows suit and harnesses the subtle sweetness and sarcasm they had before as well. Check out “I Can’t Quit” here:

Last up is the lead single from Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweats’ sophomore effort, whose stellar 2015 debut landed at #6 on that year’s list and represented some of the most ebullient, uplifting music of the year.  Since then I caught a couple underwhelming performances from the band that got me a little worried, at times sounding like they were fatigued and going through the motions, but hopefully that was just a byproduct of playing so many shows with only an album’s worth of material under their belt.  Thankfully they appear to have regained some of that initial joy on this one, “You Worry Me,” which slinks along on a catchy little groove before launching into the uplifting chorus.  Get ready to hear this one on commercials across the airwaves — hopefully the rest of the album is just as good!

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