Author: sunshine78

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Celebration Day — Stripes, Shins, and Radio(head)

On the country’s big day I thought it was only appropriate to highlight a couple albums also celebrating anniversaries, in this case a trio of them turning 20 this month. They’re from an interesting mix of acts — two of the three are still around, releasing music as a unit on a somewhat reliable basis (as reliable as 4-5 year gaps between albums can be). The other called it quits years ago, much to the chagrin of their faithful fans (myself included).

Two of the albums mark the beginning of the releasing band’s rise to stardom, rocketships they would ride into the relative stratosphere (at least for indie-loving music nerds), and both would follow this release with what turned out to be their best album. The other maintained its global recognition while continuing to explore their odder, more isolating impulses, with this album essentially serving as the start of their strange new chapter.  Each are worth remembering, though, and giving a listen on this long holiday weekend — especially if, like me, it’s been a while since you last did so.

We’ll start with the two star makers, the first of which comes from the White Stripes, and their third album, White Blood Cells. This was not the band’s masterpiece — that would arrive two years later in the form of the aptly named behemoth, Elephant, the perfect blend of the band’s blues/garage sound, their quirkiness, and mind-melting levels of power. (Although I can make a pretty good case for this album’s predecessor, too, which may have lacked Elephant’s swagger, but had arguably higher doses of the first two elements.) This was the album that made them famous, though, as its run of singles were plastered everywhere on MTV and the radio.

In part this was thanks to some incredibly creative videos (Michel Gondry’s Lego-laden treatment for “Fell in Love With a Girl” being but one great example) and a case of great timing — this was right as the early-aughts rock renaissance was raging, with bands like The Strokes, The Hives, and so many others stoking feeding frenzies at the labels, as recently recounted in Lizzy Goodman’s excellent Meet Me In the Bathroom.  It would never have mattered, though, if there weren’t some really great songs to latch onto, too, which this album has plenty of.

Truth be told, I remember being a little disappointed with this album — I’d fallen hard for De Stijl, which I’d stumbled onto at some point in my Napster-fueled explorations and still consider a close second for their best album — but there’s a lot to love here, as lovingly recounted in this piece by Stereogum. “Expecting” and “I Smell a Rat” were always deeper faves, but the oddball aside “Little Room” still grabs me by the ears and slaps me around today. Give it another listen here:

The other star-making turn comes from an even more unexpected corner, a batch of New Mexicans playing pretty pop songs sung by a falsetto-flashing frontman. This, of course, refers to the Shins’ debut Oh, Inverted World, and their singer/songwriter James Mercer.  I discovered these guys the same way I think a lot of folks did, when Natalie Portman told Zach Braff “you gotta hear this one song, it’ll change your life” in the movie Garden State. The song was “New Slang” and while it may not have changed my life with the magnitude of other big life events, I did immediately fall for this band and scour the internet for more on who they were.

This was still early days interweb — no Shazam or Google to instantly answer the question — but in relatively short order I was able to find this gem of an album and begin indulging my obsession.  At this point it turned out they’d already released a second album, too — the slightly superior Chutes Too Narrow — and the gleeful, glowing songs from both quickly became favorites. That movie undeniably took the band’s popularity to far higher levels, boosting them from relative unknowns to mid-tier festival faves for several years after, but each subsequent release saw that initial shine dim a little more.

For me, they never quite recaptured the joy and brilliance of these first two albums (although there’s still some really good stuff on 2007’s Wincing the Night Away), but that’s OK — two damned near perfect albums is something most bands would love to have even half of, particularly when they’re as good as these.  The opening track has always been one of my faves (and its title a personal mantra), so check out “Caring is Creepy” again here:

Last but not least comes Radiohead’s Amnesiac, the fast follow-on to the more famous forebear, Kid A, and in conjunction with that one, the official start of the odder, more electronic (more esoteric, more eclectic…) version of the band that continues to run to this day. Recorded at the same time as that seismic sister album and released less than a year later, this wasn’t just an odd collection of outcasts from those sessions, this was another cohesive (and slightly less combative) album from the band, one that continued to challenge its listeners without as overt an isolationist bent this time around.

These songs were nowhere near as jarring — maybe that’s by design, or maybe it’s because the fans’ foundations had already been shaken and readjusted by Kid A. Whatever the reason, this album has always been more embraceable for me and is the half of the pairing I more frequently return to. Don’t get me wrong, there’s still a lot of good stuff on the other one and I do enjoy it — I actually had it slightly higher in my Radiohead rundown a few years ago, surprisingly — but this one has some of my absolute favorites on it. “Packt like Sardines,” “Knives Out,” and “Dollars & Cents” are all killers, and the closing duo of “Like Spinning Plates” and “Life in a Glasshouse” became sleeper faves over the years. “You and Whose Army?” remains a top ten fave for me, though — an undeniable highlight on an often overlooked album.  Give it (and the album itself) another listen here:

 

Insta Replay

It’s been a while since we captured some of the discoveries from the sister site, so thought it was worth a rundown to round out everyone’s weekend playlists. Here’s some highlights from over on the ‘Gram!

Gaspard Auge — I had previously highlighted the lead single from Gaspard’s solo debut, which found him continuing to mine the disco vibe, similar to his full time band, Justice (as their mentors, the now defunct Daft Punk, had been before their demise). Listening to the entire album you catch glimpses of that band, little riffs or sequences that sound familiar and momentarily excite, but those quickly disappear like an attractive stranger seen briefly across a crowded dancefloor. It’s almost like he took those early Justice albums and ran them through the disco filter, similar to photos on the ‘Gram. What he’s made is well-crafted and achieves its goal of ephemeral, gossamer delight, but I still miss the glorious thunder of his band’s early work, fusing electro with metal. Good background/atmosphere music, though. I like the new “Belladone,” as well.

The White Buffalo — I’d recently discovered the debut from gruff-throated Californian the White Buffalo, aka singer/songwriter Jake Smith, which is a good mix of uptempo country rockers and more staid acoustic folk. Smith’s lyrics roam from apparent personal/childhood memories to more fictional fare of folks from the titular locale (shootouts and dice games and the like). The aforementioned rockers burst forth on the back his quavering voice, which calls to mind a chicken-fried Frank Turner, shaking with sweat and emotion. Songs like “The Pilot, “The Bowery,” and “Hold the Line” are all good examples, while tracks like “Sleepy Little Town” and “Wish it Was True” showcase his softer side. Both work well – current fave is “How the West Was Won,” one of the former category, which you can picture Smith using to whip the crowd into a lather onstage. It’s a fun track and there’s plenty of comparable quality on the album.

Coachwhips — I was powering through a meltdown a while back and the sole album from early ’00s San Fran noise rockers Coachwhips provided the perfect soundtrack, 2003’s brilliantly named Bangers vs Fuckers. Packing in 11 songs in a blistering 18 minutes, it doesn’t give you much time to think (or breathe for that matter). Do I like this? Which ones are the bangers and which ones the fuckers? Can I tell what the hell frontman John Dwyer (also of Thee Oh Sees and their myriad variants) is saying? Do I care? The immediate answer (for me at least) is no. Fast, hooky, and loud, it comes in with an urgency that’s tough to ignore. The result is an album that’s sweaty, frantic, and a little uncoordinated – just what you want sometimes. This one’s a fun, messy bash.

Fat White Family — was listening to the London-based band’s third album, Serf’s Up!, lately, a ramshackle mix of moody noise, slow burn atmosphere, and grooves you could almost dance to. It’s a little like Arab Strap, Scissor Sisters, and Massive Attack got together for an album and decided to leave out the lyrics about sex and death and tone down the unhinged energy (while throwing in Ross from Friends on keyboard to round out the sound). It’s definitely an interesting listen as a result, covering a lot of ground over the course of its 10 tracks. On the whole it works pretty well, though. Songs like “Fringe Runner” and “Tastes Good with the Money” are midtempo movers, while “Kim’s Sunsets” and “Bobby’s Boyfriend” are slower burners that draw you into their fog. My favorite is the opener, though, which captures all the elements of those aforementioned bands and turns the energy up full blast. It’s an infectious track and sure to get you moving.

Arab Strap — speaking of, the latest album from the aforementioned Scottish duo is an equally interesting listen. True to form the songs are miniature movies — narratives that spool out in frontman Aidan Moffat’s deadpan brogue while Malcolm Middleton’s music provides the soundtrack. The lyrics are the band’s signature mix of sex, death, and dark, dry humor. The music is at turns eerie film score and 80s pop song. But it somehow works – it’s almost hypnotic. The best of the bunch for me so far is the opening track, the one that has all these elements and was the first one that grabbed me at the album’s release. There’s nothing else that sounds like it out there.

Julien Baker — had listened to her recent album a bunch when it came out, but kept neglecting to say anything about it for no real reason. I had initially been impressed with the epic, swelling vibe she captured for the lead single, “Hardline,” and discovered she manages the trick several more times on the album on tracks like “Faith Healer,” “Bloodshot,” and “Repeat.” The quieter songs work well too (“Song in E” is a hushed little devastator), but the swelling, surging ones are what keeps me coming back. I know I’m not the intended audience for this stuff, but I like it nonetheless.

John Andrews & the Yawns — the latest album from Andrews, Cookbook, trades in the late 60s psychedelic vibe of their first two albums and shifts forward to the following decade, almost verging on yacht rock territory at times with its soft edges and warm, steady pace. Nothing’s going to startle or endanger you here and that’s OK — Andrews retains his knack for digging up pretty melodies and scattering them throughout the proceedings. “River of Doubt” and “Try” are but two of many examples, and even the more easy listening AM radio tunes win you over once you settle into the new mood. (Their titles aptly reflect the vibe – “Easy Going, “New California Blue…”) Current fave is the hushed gem “Early Hours of the Morning,” which also perfectly reflects the vibe within – you can picture Andrews playing it on his couch before sunrise, softly strumming his acoustic while the rest of the house sleeps. Is a lovely track on a solidly pleasant album.

Night Shop — another recent discovery getting solid airplay is the 2018 debut of Night Shop (aka Justin Sullivan). Sullivan cut his teeth drumming for a bunch of bands, including Babies where he worked with fave Kevin Morby before jumping on the road as part of his touring band when he went solo. It appears that time had a positive influence on his songwriting as this album repeatedly calls to mind his former frontman. Sullivan’s more uptempo tracks get the blood flowing (“The One I Love,” “Road to Carolina,” “I Was Alone”) before settling into a blissful groove on slower tracks that make you lean back and drink it all in (the title track, “If You Remember,” “On the Island”). It all adds up to a really good listen/debut.

Arlo McKinley — I recently discovered the debut by Arlo McKinley while spinning through clips on Oh Boy’s website. McKinley was the last artist signed to Prine’s label and similar to that departed giant he walks the line between country and folk, making sure the stories and melodies of the latter balance out some of the good ole boy twang and imagery that could drive some folks away. McKinley has a nice, warm voice, which he twins on most of the tracks giving them a rich sound and feel, and while the stories may be country standards – heartache, loss, and addiction – they’re solid and sincere. Really enjoy his 2014 debut!

John R. Miller — I’ve been working the 2018 debut of West Virginia singer/songwriter John R. Miller hard lately in anticipation of his upcoming new album. (Depreciated, due out July 16.) Miller packs a LOT of goodness into the album’s brisk 30 minutes, shifting smoothly from standard roadhouse shitkickers to more serene, contemplative songs several times. What sets the album apart for me is Miller’s ability to strike that balance in the lyrics too, offering both vivid imagery and honesty across the album’s 10 tracks. They paint a rich picture, one made more resonant by Miller’s warm, somewhat forlorn voice. The first few singles from the new album have been good, so excited to hear the rest in a couple weeks!

The Bones of JR Jones — also been listening to the latest EP from the Bones of J.R. Jones (aka singer/songwriter Jonathan Linaberry) a ton lately. In the run-up to recording Linaberry decided to leave his place in New York and venture into the Arizona desert for inspiration and the open air seems to have made him want to lean more into the quieter, folksier side of his sound. (All but one of the tracks – the TV on the Radio reminiscent “Bad Moves” – would be perfect to hear while sitting around the campfire.) It’s a strong decision as they’re some of his most affecting songs yet. The title track, “Keep it Low, and “Like an Old Lover” are all lay on the ground and just LISTEN level pretty while the opening “Stay Wild” has a lush, pastoral feel that’s perfect for a drive to nowhere with the windows down. Nothing tops “Howl” for me right now, though – beautiful melody, haunting vibe, and when the steel guitar comes in at the end it almost breaks you. Beautiful, beautiful stuff.


Boo Hag — I’ve been listening to South Carolina duo Boo Hag a lot lately, whose self-described sound is “voodoo inspired rock ‘n’ roll… [with] an emphasis on the sinister,” which gets it pretty well. There’s bits of Bass Drum of Death, White Stripes, and Black Pistol Fire in there, as well as Squirrel Nut Zippers, which strikes me just fine since I love all those bands. Their albums are brisk, chameleonic affairs and the songs switch tempo and vibe frequently, giving things an urgent, irresistible edge. Frontman Saul Seibert sounds positively unhinged on some songs, shredding his guitar while drummer Scotty Tempo bangs away beside him. The image that keeps coming to mind as I listen is of these two busking in some subway station, making a tremendous noise while more and more people stop and stare, unsure of exactly what they’re seeing/hearing (is this guy an escaped mental patient? Am I in danger?) but unable to leave the glorious racket behind. Might have to make a trek down to see them if they don’t come through soon…

Glorietta — three years ago a group of six friends from Austin, led by Matthew Logan Vasquez of Delta Spirit, retired to a house in Santa Fe and holed up for the weekend, recording anything that came out while the tequila and camaraderie flowed. What they captured perfectly reflects the vibe in which it was created – a warm, loose collection of songs that alternately bears the imprint of its creator’s distinct style. There’s country (“Hard Way,” “Easy Come Easy Go”), straightforward rockers (“Mindy,” “Heatstroke”), and several hushed ballads (“Friends,” “Sinking Ship,” Lincoln Creek”), which end up hitting the hardest, despite their slower pace and softer sound. (The harmonies on “Someday” being just one of many excellent examples that’ll stop you in your tracks.) It sounds like it was a blast to record – the rough edges and high variety make you feel like you’re in the room listening to six different sensibilities take turns at the record player — and the vibe was so good Nathaniel Rateliff even showed up, as on the funkier “I Know,” another standout. It’s a fun listen – here’s hoping they try the trick again and give us 12 more songs soon!

And we’ll close with five one-offs to round things out — a nod to the passing of Gift of Gab (of Blackalicious fame) and one of my faves:

Another posthumous nod, this time to DOOM (along with Your Old Droog):

Another slice of happiness from two of Atlanta’s finest, Big Boi and Killer Mike:

A fun surprise from an equally unexpected collaboration, that of Damian Lazarus, Diplo, and Jungle:

And the latest single from the beloved Jetpacks:


That’s it for now — hope everyone enjoys the long weekend and holiday (now with real human beings again!)

–BS

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Gram’-a Rodeo — Songs From the Other Side of the Divide

Been a slow couple of weeks — in the music world, at least. Not a ton of releases or videos, though there have been a surge of tour dates and festival announcements, which is an INCREDIBLY welcome sight, as this marks the longest I’ve gone without going to a show since I started doing so way back in high school. (Which for those of you who know me I’m sure assume must be 10, maybe 15 years ago max due to my baby-faced good looks and playful demeanor, but is actually barking on 30 at this point.) As a result I’ve been spending most of my time plumbing the depths of my deranged musical memory over on the ‘Gram and thought it was time to do a little housekeeping, explaining the difference between the two locales. (Because I’m sure the 8 of you have been extremely confused, and for that I apologize.)

In essence, the intended divide between the two revolves around three things — length, frequency, and focus. The ‘Gram, with its character-limits and more perishable nature, is meant to be more quick-hit glimpses of the unhinged fever dream that is my brain. Thanks to this (and a dare from Fuddge) the goal is to post something there everyday — won’t always be much, but it’ll at least give you something to listen to on the reg. (Because I know you’re all starved for access to music and rely on my backwater blog/account for inspiration.

And while it will occasionally highlight some new bands that I’ve found through the app, either through follows or comments (#BoBs), it will primarily capture more random items than here — noteworthy birthdays to inspire the day’s listening, choice songs heard or remembered throughout the day (#fuddgepops, #freshbeets, etc), dusty offerings from old bands and memories that deserve another look (#songsfromtheshadows). In short, it will be shorter, faster, and odder than what you expect to find here — new offerings from old favorites, videos of note, and rambling diatribes about this, that, and the other thing (bands you should know, rankings of their albums (or the year’s), documentaries or concert DVDs to watch, what’s wrong with the world today, etc) on a more infrequent basis. (It’s just SO exhausting to power up the laptop…)

The ‘Gram is structured to be more eclectic and esoteric, this site more deep and deliberative. That said, there’s plenty of overlap between the two — both are built around discovery, whether of the old (‘the Gram) or the new (the blog) — so the goal is to ideally have folks spend time with both. In order to incentivize that a little more, I’ve created an ongoing playlist for the ‘Gram to mirror the one we have here (Sunshine Radio, always at your disposal on the Spots or in the upper right of this page.) Similar to the methodology employed here, it will capture every song that’s written about or posted on the account. If/when we reference bands here that were first mentioned on the ‘Gram, they’ll be added to Sunshine Radio — otherwise the two will remain distinct.

Doing so really emphasizes the aforementioned differences, while still giving you plenty of good stuff to listen to.  (And those songs that show up on both serve as nice bridges between the two worlds when they come on.)  I’ve been listening to both the past few weeks and the oddball curves that come up on the ‘Gram playlist are pretty entertaining — a good balance to the more steadfast tone of this site.  See for yourself, though — there’s close to 20 hours and counting on the ‘Gram list now (a mere fraction of the nearly 80 hours on Sunshine Radio, but closing fast!) so should keep you busy for a while. So without any further ado, enjoy your Insta Gratification!

As mentioned back at the top (bet you wish there was a character limit here, too, eh?) there haven’t been a ton of new releases to grab onto lately, but managed to find a few worth noting so wanted to do so on our way out the door.  First, Noel Gallagher released a greatest hits album for his High Flying Birds yesterday, and in addition to the slew of previously heard faves added two new recordings. They’re both pretty good, but my favorite is this one, “We’re on Our Way Now” — give it a listen here:

Next comes the latest from fave Jose Gonzalez, whose new album Local Valley will come out this September. It’s his first in nearly six years (2015’s so-so Vestiges & Claws), but we’ve already heard a couple singles from it. (Including “El Invento, which we wrote about back in February.) This one sounds much more like a return to his earliest albums — simple, yet urgent guitar and his delicate voice floating alongside. I’m hoping there’s more like this than the somewhat meandering, poetic stuff on his last album. Hopefully this one’s title is a harbinger that’s so — check out “Head On” here:


Up third comes the latest from Woods whose last album, Strange to Explain, landed at #13 on last year’s best of list. Apparently others agreed, as the band is releasing an expanded, deluxe edition of the album next month. It will sport several new tracks (and at least one alternate version of an existing track) so will definitely be worth a listen. In the meantime enjoy the first of those new songs, “Waiting Around for a New Me,” which is a perfect sonic complement to the tracks already on the album. Give it a listen here:


We’ll close with a surprise find from our friends up north and a performance at that country’s Grammys, the Juno Awards. Showcasing national superheros The Tragically Hip, who were being honored with a humanitarian award for their work on behalf of Canada’s indigenous populations, it also has the beloved Leslie Feist singing lead on one of their songs.  It’s a pretty cool performance, with Feist’s voice fitting in nicely up front. (Frontman Gord Downie died of brain cancer in 2017.) Check it out here:


That’s it for now — until next time, amici…
–BS

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All the Debris — Songs of Owls and Rabbits

Had a strange moment of connection this past weekend.  In the days running up to it I’d been intermittently listening to old Frightened Rabbit records (it had been a couple cold, rainy days, which is perfect Rabbit weather) and been thinking “you know, I should do one of the old “One You Should Know” posts about these guys — they’re underappreciated favorites,” but it wasn’t until Sunday that anything abnormal occurred.

I woke up that morning with one of their songs in my head — again, nothing odd here (the line from “Poke” was rolling around — “it’s got lots to do with magnets and the pull of the moon”) — but over the course of the day I kept thinking about the band.  Old shows I’d been to, the odd pride I felt when they played the big room on the tour for their last album, having spent years enjoying them in the smaller, more intimate venues. Mostly it was a sense of melancholy, though, and thoughts about what could have been.

Those feelings on their own aren’t exceptionally odd, often coming part and parcel whenever a song or album of theirs comes on shuffle.  The number of times they popped up over the course of the day was what was odd. It wasn’t until late Sunday night that I decided to do a search and that’s when I realized it was the unfortunate anniversary of lead singer Scott Hutchison’s death.  Which I know makes no logical sense — I (sadly) never met the man, nor anyone else in the band, so there’s no rational reason I would think about him on that day. (Unless it’s a Scottish thing and we’re all subconsciously connected by our Viking heritage, which might actually be true as evidenced by my obsession with that place when I was living overseas, going there repeatedly — the only place I did that — only to later find out that’s where my family was from…)

Except in some small, perfect way maybe it does make sense.  Hutchison often sang about the inexplicable aspects of love and life — the inability to explain one’s feelings for another or to walk away from them, to change one’s behavior and break certain cycles, to stop believing in something and accept defeat. This indefatigable romanticism and resilience (and the at times breathtakingly honest way he spoke of them) were hallmarks of his lyrics, so maybe it isn’t so strange. Maybe it makes total sense for a stranger halfway around the world to think about and lament the passing of another on that exact, unfortunate anniversary. That this hasn’t happened for anyone I’ve actually known and lost might be irrelevant.  Maybe it’s as simple and undeniable as he said — it’s got lots to do with magnets and the pull of the moon.

That unseen reality could help explain the passionate esteem so many fans (and artists) hold for this band.  To know about them almost guarantees a reverence that borders on religious. Folks tend to not just like this band — they LOVE them, and do so in a fervent, unrestrained way that Hutchison might sing about in one of his songs.  It’s the reckless, visceral feeling of your first love or of finding some sunken treasure and wanting to share the splendor with everyone around you. It doesn’t happen often and isn’t felt lightly, but it’s infectious.

It’s what made going to see the band live this incredible, cathartic experience. One minute you’re singing full-throatedly about anxiety or loss, the next about optimism and joy or laughing at Hutchison’s jokes between songs. By the time they were done they’d filled the room with so many colors and emotions it was like having gone to therapy and a wedding while Jackson Pollack painted everyone souvenirs. You’d stagger out of the club warmer, lighter, and giddier than when you arrived, whether you’d been drinking or not.

In short, it was magical. That a tiny band from Scotland could affect you so strongly, so deeply, and so regularly didn’t make logical sense, but it didn’t have to — you felt it just the same.  A large part of that was due to Hutchison’s lyrics and the uncomfortable, scathing honesty within them. The vulnerability he showed drew you in immediately, either to sympathize or to relate.

I always think about where to tell people to start with a band, what song or album to listen to if they’re going to give them a try and see everything they have to offer. There’s a dozen different places you could start with these guys, but I think the trio in the middle of their beloved Midnight Organ Fight is the place to go.  They’re three of the band’s most revered songs and I think they chose to sequence them right in a row for a reason.

In those three songs you progress from resilient optimism to anguished desperation and withering bitterness (with some humor scattered in to alternately sharpen and blunt the blows). These are classic landmarks for anyone who’s had a relationship sour and fray, but also key facets of Hutchison’s personality (I suspect) and thus a perfect triptych for what the band represents. (Hard-headed optimism, intense emotion, and cutting humor and bitterness being key traits of another beloved Scotsman I know…)

In what’s become a posthumous anthem of Hutchison’s legacy, “Heads Roll Off” represents that resilience and the need to make something of our time here on earth. “While I’m alive, I’ll make tiny changes to earth,” he sings in a song dealing with mortality and religion. After his death his family turned these words into the mission statement for a foundation focused on mental health for young folks and people regularly post pictures of stickers with the phrase/Scott’s face on Instagram, doing their small part to beautify places around the world. It’s a lovely tribute for someone who struggled so openly and honestly with this issue — and yet still seemed so determined to get past it and move on.

“My Backwards Walk” moves to a failing (failed?) relationship and another of those scenarios where you can’t seem to make progress, no matter what you try. The lyrics are among my absolute favorites, both funny and devastating, as Hutchison tries to make sense of what’s happening and which way to go. Should I stay or should I go? Are we together or are we through? Do I still care or don’t I? The duality of the situation makes it immediately recognizable and also irresistible. “I’m working on erasing you, I just don’t have the proper tools.” “I’m working hard on walking out…my clothes won’t let me close the door.” By the time he gets to the climax at the end you feel like you’ve lived the anguish yourself and are just as unsure what to do about it as he is. (“You’re the sh#$ and I’m knee-deep in it.”) Is it catharsis or sarcasm? Hopeful or hostile?

The final wing is much more unambiguous — “Keep Yourself Warm” is brutal honesty about the emptiness of pointless, meaningless sex.  “You won’t find love in a, won’t find love in a hole — it takes more than fu#$ing someone to keep yourself warm.” What makes it so interesting is you can’t tell whether that hammer is meant for the singer himself, squarely smacking him in the face as he stares in the mirror, or the previous song’s love who’s now left him behind. It’s a powerful sentiment either way, sung with Hutchison’s signature cleverness and directness.

These three songs harness everything I love about this band and miss so dearly about its singer — the honesty, the humor, the humility and hope. They’re packed full of them, as well as really good harmonies and hooks courtesy of the rest of the band. They released five studio albums in their too-short career, along with a handful of solid EPs, all of which are worth listens. (Hutchison also had a good solo album under the moniker Owl John and a side project with his brother Grant (and a few lads from the Editors) as Mastersystem.)

They’re a really special band, one that forges a connection far stronger than simple explanation (or most other acts) and that’s likely why I found myself thinking about them so much last weekend, logical or not. I was thinking about two of my favorite shows — one under the shady canopy of trees back home at Lollapalooza, standing ten feet from the band with 100 other people, wondering if they felt as lucky as I did (and if the other people walking by knew what they were missing). The other turned out to be the last time I saw them, on the anniversary tour for the aforementioned Organ Fight. The room was maybe a little more crowded than at that first show ten years prior, jovially packed into my favorite club in town, with folks exuberantly singing along to each of the album’s tracks.

It was a wonderful night, one that made the news a few months later so jarring. Scott seemed so happy that night, cracking jokes throughout the set and bantering with the crowd like I’d seen so many times before. He seemed truly humbled by the reception to the album and the band over the years, thanking us multiple times over the course of the night. To know that he was still struggling with the feelings that ultimately took him away is really sad and hard to reconcile with the person we saw onstage. I suppose that’s the cruel reality for folks grappling with suicide, though — you can feel fine one minute and awful the next, unable to tame the dark thoughts and urges no matter what you do.

That feeling of hopelessness was the last thing I was thinking of last week — how scary and sad and overwhelming it must have been to feel like leaving was the only option. The only way to get the peace that might’ve proven so elusive or to quiet the doubts and fears that might’ve plagued him. It’s such an unfortunate loss, one that leaves you with a number of unfulfilled wishes.  I wish his family and the rooms full of adoring fans around the world could have helped him conquer those feelings and kept him around. That those who might be feeling similar things are able to get the help they need before it’s too late. And that the guy seemingly moved by magnets halfway across the world could have thanked him for what he meant to him before he left.

That’s it for now — until next time, amici…
–BS

One You Should Know — Frightened Rabbit

(Since for some reason this one isn’t on the Spots — a back-breaking listen…)

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Back in Time: Buds of Bobby, Old and New

The recent passing of DMX and a bunch of album anniversaries have had me roaming around with my rose-colored glasses on lately, meandering down memory lane to revisit the songs and my life at the time I first heard them. (Cuz what else am I going to do with my free time? I may have superpowers now that I’m vaccinated, but there still ain’t many options right now…) Since I know how much joy it brings you, figured I’d share some of both to fill up your weekend, really make this one for the history books.

In honor of Terry we’ll put it in reverse and go forwards to backwards, chronologically speaking, diving ever deeper into the annals of Sunshine lore with an increasingly excellent soundtrack to accompany us.  First up, then, is the recent 15-year anniversary of the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s second album, Show Your Bones. Released three years after their classic debut, Fever to Tell, the trio reportedly struggled mightily trying to decide what direction they wanted to go in for their follow-up, recording and scrapping several albums’ worth of material (and nearly breaking up) before settling on what became Bones.

Unfortunately for those of us who loved the raw, fiery sound of their debut and the preceding EP, it marked the last time you’d ever really see that band again (and even here, only in fleeting glimpses).  After this album, Nick Zinner’s flamethrowing guitar licks would be largely doused by buckets of safer, dancier fare. Drummer Brian Chase, whose wild, unhinged beats could previously send even the most resistant punks into a frenzied state (look no further than gems “Black Tongue,” “No No No,” and “Date With the Night” for easy examples) would recede further into the background, invoking all the danger of his accountant-like appearance on subsequent albums. And the bleeding heart of the band, frontwoman Karen O, whose untamed shrieks and psychotic energy represented one of the signatures of the band’s early sound became more and more subdued as they kept releasing material.

Not that this — or much of what followed, actually — was bad, mind you. Just that after you’ve seen what irresistible, life-altering feats bands like this are capable of, to see them do anything else is inherently going to be a let down. And so it is with Bones. You get your last tastes of that former band on tracks like “Way Out,” “Honeybear,” and “Mysteries” (which might be the best farewell to that old version of the band, with Zinner’s frenzied guitar throwing sparks next to O’s anguished wails and Chase’s galloping beat).  You also get acquainted with the band’s future on tracks like “Gold Lion,” “Phenomena,” “Cheated Hearts,” and “Turn Into,” which are at turns weirder and more straightforward than anything they’d done before.

It’s very much an album of a band in transition and for that reason never fully grabs you or brings you back. Those of us who love the early version of the band have our handful of tracks, those who prefer the later fare have their handful, but none of us are completely happy and none are going to come to this album to scratch their respective itches.  It’s textbook compromise (everybody loses!), but there’s still enough good stuff here to come back to now and again. For me it’ll always be for tracks like this one, the ripshit finale of the Yeahs v1.0, “Mysteries:”

Hopping back into the Delorean we’ll jump five years further into history to revisit the release of two fantastic debuts from artists on opposite sides of the sonic (and coolness) spectrum, yet two favorites of mine nonetheless — Pete Yorn and Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. The former is heartfelt and melodic pop, the latter is dark, noisy rock. One summons the brightness and warmth of sunshine and love, the other the cold, black of shadows and death.  One gets cracked on for being soft and overly earnest, the other for being inauthentic and insincere. Statements like the last ones prove my hypothesis that most people are mouth-breathing idiots with terrible taste, but will let you make up your own mind.

Yorn’s debut 20 years ago, Musicforthemorningafter, came packed with all the things that make it easy for people to nitpick — handsome, long-haired singer/songwriter bursts on the scene with a bunch of songs about busted hearts, booming hooks, and a TON of hype. He plays all the instruments on the album, which simultaneously impresses and chagrins, and he gives intimate performances that only enhance the effect, leaving onlookers gooey and snipers more steadfast in their snippiness.  Only once you tune out the latter (if you ever listened to them to begin with) you realize just how good these songs are. And how many of them there are! This isn’t a scraped together affair with one or two songs surrounded by a bunch of half-baked demos — this is the quintessential classic debut, bursting with material that’s been polished to a scalpel’s precision over several years of hustling and gigs, just waiting for that elusive record deal and the potential shot at stardom.

No, this is a swing for the fences shot that absolutely murders the ball, clearing the wall by a country mile. It’s fifteen songs (fifteen!) that almost ends better than it began — and it begins with “Life on a Chain,” which is about as catchy a song as most artists hope for once in their career, let alone as the first track on a debut with 15 songs. (Yorn immediately follows that up with songs like “Strange Condition,” “Murray,” and “Closet,” which are every bit as good, just to rub salt in those other artists’ wounds.) In between booming heart anthems like those (and “For Nancy (‘Cos it Already Is),” another fave) are softer, more stripped back gems like “Just Another,” “On Your Side,” “June,” and “Sleep Better.”

It’s these latter tracks that really sunk their hooks into me all those years ago, speaking to the love-addled (and acne-riddled) fool I was. Two in particular left me routinely flat on the floor, the perfect soundtracks to my unrequited mess of a love life (and the many mix CDs made to that end) — “Lose You” and “A Girl Like You.” Even today those two immediately take me back to that time, laying in my dorm room trying to find “The Perfect Song” to break through the wall(s) of indifference plaguing me with the opposite sex. Unfortunately neither track worked, but that’s not Yorn’s fault — they’re still beautiful songs on a fantastic album. Check out “Girl” here:

The other half of this 20/20 split comes from the opposite side of the country (sunny California to Yorn’s fabled New Jersey), which is only fitting because of how dissimilar these two albums and artists are, representing opposite ends of almost all spectrums, as mentioned before. If the former hit you in the heart, this one hit you in the gut. If the former spoke to some of the ache and desperation one had in the romantic world, this one spoke to the hope and aspiration one had in the regular world — to be this mysterious, this dangerous, this flat out COOL.

And man, was this ever those things. The sound, reminiscent of faves like Jesus & Mary Chain and the Velvets before them. The look, all darkened silhouettes and black leather jackets.  (Surrounded by swirls of smoke and blistering backlight on stage, further enhancing the effect.) Even the album cover was cool, looking a bit like the poster for some old film noir you might see in the early morning hours on TV. It was absolutely irresistible and borderline hypnotic — from the ominous opening strums of “Love Burns” you’re pulled in, waiting patiently for the beat to drop while the tension and danger build, and when it does it’s like being caught in the beam of one of those giant halogen lamps. You’re frozen in place, everything around you thrown into crystal clear relief, and you know trying to escape it will only invite more problems, so you stand transfixed, slowly simmering in its gaze while the album’s roar surrounds you.

That’s what it felt like then and what it still feels like now — this album just sizzles. From that opening track to successors like “Red Eyes and Tears,” “White Palms,” “As Sure as the Sun,” and “Spread Your Love,” the visceral mix of roaring guitars, bitter, almost threatening lyrics, and wave after wave of feedback almost literally fry your brain. Even more straightforward songs like “Whatever Happened (To My Rock and Roll)” cook (music about music is always a somewhat dicey proposition, but they, like JAMC, manage to pull it off effortlessly), while cooler, more subdued tracks like “Awake,” “Too Real,” “Head up High,” and “Salvation” provide the perfect counterbalance to the punishing rays.

I still remember stumbling onto these guys and immediately falling under their spell — you couldn’t tell if it was some long lost band surfacing again or some magic reincarnation of those older acts, but I loved it immediately and still do 20 years (and hundreds of listens) later. This album (and this act) remain one of my faves, even if they’ve lost some of their initial heat in recent years/outings. You can’t go wrong picking a highlight from this album, but this has always been one of my faves, particularly live, as they slowly build the menace and dread before destroying you at the end. Check out “Rifles” here:

We’ll take a brief pause in our time travel to note the passing of DMX again, whose death was a really unfortunate surprise last week. We’ll do so now because this is where X first burst onto the scene, chronologically — coming out of virtually nowhere 23 years ago to drop not one, but two huge albums in the same year (he remains the only rapper to have his first four albums debut at #1). From that point on he was virtually unavoidable for the next five years.

Fans knew from listening to his lyrics that he’d had a hard life (abuse, drugs, and prison were apparently just the tip of the iceberg, as described in these excellent homages) and unfortunately those demons increasingly got the better of him over the past few years. X had seemed primed for a potential comeback (and apparently has an all-star studded album recorded that we’ll maybe get to hear), so it was sad to learn that wasn’t in the cards.

I still remember the first time I heard him — it was at that hot mess of a festival Woodstock ’99 and I was somewhere back in the crowd, working my way to the front when this guy in orangish overalls EXPLODED onto the stage, growling, shouting, and exhorting the crowd, literally barking at us and telling us he couldn’t hear us/he was not playing.  I may have heard his songs before, since they were everywhere at this point, but this was the first time I HEARD them, taking note of who this guy was in no uncertain terms as he annihilated the crowd. I was in from the opening salvo, which as I noted on the ‘gram I think I still have burns from 20 years later when he melted our faces off.  Give that intro another watch or listen to its album version here (it remains one of rap’s best opening shots on album/stage), and tip your cap to the passing of one of rap’s greats…


Last stop on our magical mystery tour is for should-be Hall of Famers (honestly, how are these guys behind Todd Rundgren and Chaka Khan right now?!?) Rage Against the Machine, whose second album Evil Empire came out 25 years ago this week.  This band, and these two albums, perfectly framed my high school experience and my exposure to them both at the front and the back end centered around a guy named Mike. When Mike first introduced me to the band it was our freshman year and I remember him handing me their debut CD and saying “these guys are great.” I remember looking at the guy on the cover, engulfed in flames, and thinking “ooh man, that seems aggressive” and then being almost literally blown back by the titular rage that erupted from the speakers when I actually put the disc on. It was too much for me, at the time — WAY too much.

At that time young Sunshine was still basically a child, blissfully listening to softer, safer things, like Moms’ Breakfast with the Beatles on Saturdays or Pops’ Soul Sundays with Reverend Al, Brother Ray, Sam, and Otis. Luckily, anger hadn’t really come into his life yet then. Fast forward four years later, though, and booooooooooooy was he ready. By the time Rage came back with Empire, I was an angry senior, seething at the loss of my mom, pissed at having to be in school and deal with all the nonsense surrounding college (something I didn’t really give a sh#$ about at the time, with all the jockeying for acceptance letters from prestigious places to try and impress those around you — people whose opinions I couldn’t have cared less about), so when Mike came into electronics class with their new album and started playing it on repeat, I was ready.

It was the prototypical island of misfit toys in there — burnouts and truants just looking to get an easy credit, supernerds taking refuge from the ridicule outside while building strobe lights and computers, a rebellious teacher being punished for his actions by having to deal with miscreants like us until he could finally retire. All of us packed in this room under the stairs in the basement next to the boiler room, as perfect a setting as you could pick for a posse such as ours.

And into this midst came Mike, who since the band’s debut had gone from straight-laced, clean cut kid to borderline burnout himself, rocking Zack-like mini-dreads while smoking pot and skipping class. I can’t say the transformation was caused by the band (though I’m pretty sure the hair was, in retrospect), but I can say his playing this album non-stop for almost an entire semester caused one in me. I still didn’t really understand WHAT they were so mad about (racism and injustice, sure, but talk of Mumia, Chomsky, and five-sided fistagons went straight over my head), but how that anger made them feel — from Zack’s seething howls to Tom’s frantic scratching, Tim’s lurking bass lines, and Brad’s thunderous drumming — made total sense. That cacophony was the perfect complement to my anger and would become a long-running soundtrack to similar seething over the years.

And what a tremendous racket it was. Even coming through tinny console speakers in the classroom, it was undeniable. This was when the video for “Bulls on Parade” was CONSTANTLY on MTV and I remember how unsettling it was at the time with its footage of random militants (“were these guys really trying to start a revolution/overthrow the government?!”), but even more indelible were the images of the crowd from the band’s live performance that were stitched in between. I’d never seen anything like it before — not only the violence and intensity of their response, but how it seemingly affected the entire crowd, bouncing and rippling like a cohesive wave across the entire stadium. That was the first glimpse I’d get of it and thankfully it would not be my last. (I’d see them several times over the years, including at the aforementioned festival with X, and they remain the most explosive, incendiary thing I’ve ever seen live.)

Over the course of that semester everyone in class got to know the album’s songs, whether they wanted to or not — Mike loved “Vietnow” and “Tire Me,” particularly its Jackie O line at the end, and would play them back to back over the outcries of even the most soft-spoken nerds after a while. I was drawn to the lurching “Snakecharmer” and “Down Rodeo,” which pulled at me like a riptide. And the closing “Year of the Boomerang,” with its stop/start dynamics, was one of everyone’s faves. 25 years later I still don’t understand everything they’re referencing — or necessarily agree with it when I do — but I continue to be amazed at how powerful a band this was. As I’ve noted here before, they’re the band I’ve thought about most during our tumultuous recent political history — first during the Bush reign and then even moreso during the previous administration, which dialed things up to infinity — and still consider it a bit of a shame they were only around so briefly.

This album marked the halfway point in terms of releases — they’d only put out one more of original material before the final covers album (which bucked the phone-in signal those albums can send, as they picked deep, unexpected cuts and made them sound like their own) — before breaking up and never recording together again (that we know). Tom, Tim, and Brad kept going under the Audioslave and then the Prophets of Rage monikers, while Zack all but completely disappeared, only appearing on one or two singles since. I was hoping maybe the reunion tour that got scuttled thanks to COVID might spark some of the old magic and a desire to record again, but we’ll have to wait until next year to see if that dream comes true. In the meantime we’ll have gems like this to keep us going — just like it has for the past 25. Check out “Snakecharmer” again and rock out with the rest of the basement dwellers:

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Insta’ Replay —

We’ll close with some more highlights from the ‘gram, so we can add them to the ongoing Sunshine Radio stream (always available on the Spots and in the upper right corner of the page here):

    • Check out the Joe Strummer compilation, Assembly, which pulls the best selections from his post-Clash solo work. It’s an interesting listen – the fire of his former band is nowhere to be found, but you definitely hear the reggae elements that helped create such an iconic sound when paired with their punk attitude and energy. Start with this one, “Tony Adams:”

    • In honor of the Yorn/BRMC combo above, check out Burning Jacob’s Ladder who (like the former) plays all the instruments on his EP and (like the latter) “nails the sound of that band’s first two albums, all fuzzed guitar and darkened mood.” Check out “Dystopian Blues” here”

  • In honor of X and rap’s rougher side, check out Gravediggaz’s debut, “where RZA of Wutang fame cut his teeth and first played with some of the elements that made that group so legendary. There’s the gritty subject matter, the martial arts elements, the wild man rapper routine that would later be perfected by ODB.” There’s even samples that will sound familiar — check out “Nowhere to Run, Nowhere to Hide:”

  • And while we’re at it, just cuz I’ve had this song in my head a bunch lately, check out Kendrick Lamar’s “DNA:”
  • Give a listen to Finnish find Swires whose “frontman Allu Kettunen’s voice reminds me a bit of Alice In Chains and some of his riffs call to mind Machina-era Pumpkins (both good things).” Check out “Wait and Yearn” from their debut EP here:
  • Also check out Dean and the Dagumn Space Villains, who aside from an excellently ridiculous/old-timey name, also make some really pretty music. Check out “Caveman,” a straightforward little love song that knocks you out despite barely being sung above a whisper most of the time. Lovely stuff!

  • And last but not least check out New Orleans’ Yes Ma’am, a throwback band (like dust bowl old) whose high energy songs are sure to get you smiling (if not dosey doing) in your living room. Check out “Squishin’ Bees” here:

    That’s it for now — until next time, amici… –BS

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Prime Time — Polling the Pantheon and Seeing About Shane

I got asked one of my favorite music-related questions this week at work, one we’ve debated many times over beers at the bar (back when that was a thing) — if you could see one band (or artist) back in their prime, who would it be? When we’ve discussed this in years past, folks will name some obvious ones (Elvis, the Beatles) and some slightly less obvious (Marvin Gaye, Bob Marley, Sly and the Family Stone). The answer I gave this week is the one I usually give, I’ve got to break it down by decade to even begin to answer — for the 60s I went with the Beatles, the Doors, and CCR, for the 70s I did Zeppelin, for the 80s I did the Smiths and the Clash.

I’m sure there’s more I’m forgetting, but those are the ones that jump to mind as bands I’d love to have seen, ones I still listen to incessantly all these years later (and have for decades now). That got me thinking about what makes those bands so special and why do they immediately spring to mind, even though they were all gone by the time I started really getting into music? And how/why do l consider them my own even though they were coming from (and speaking to) a generation or two before me?

The best I can come up with is the magical, universal quality of music — you don’t have to understand the words of a song to connect with the melody or know what the singer’s saying to sing along.  The lyrics can be in different languages or made-up gibberish and you can love them just the same. The best music transcends all of that and lets you in anyway, tapping into something deeper, something that spans generation and geography.  The best music transports you somewhere else — to another time, to another country, or maybe deeper within yourself to probe your thoughts and emotions.

Each of those bands does that in some way — the Beatles back to my childhood, CCR to the swamp — but more modern bands can have the same effect. The Pogues are textbook ambassadors for the middle category, immediately whisking you away to the Emerald Isle — whether the countryside or a boisterous, sweaty pub depends on the song — but when you listen to the band you are no longer in your room, car, or crazed house of murder in Baltimore, you are somewhere in Ireland. For that reason I’ve always tended to listen to them around that most Irish of times, St Patty’s Day, when I need that mental airlift to the bright green hills of stashed gold and Guinness over yonder.

In the crowded pantheon of great Irish bands/singers, these guys have always held a special place in my heart — bands like The Dubliners and the Irish Rovers are great for the older, more traditional fare, Van Morrison, U2, and the Cranberries are rightful giants but don’t evoke that Irish sense with their sound, and folks like Flogging Molly are excellent extensions of what the Pogues used to do. If I had to pick just one, though, I’m picking the Pogues.

There’s just something about this band that’s irresistible — the energy, the unabashed Irishness, the gleeful abandon and sense of humor right next to the cry-in-your-empty-pint emotion after a night kicking them back at the bar. They’re the  quintessential Irish band, which is why they’re always the first thing I put once March comes a-calling.

Some (maybe all?) of it centers on frontman Shane MacGowan, whose lyrics and delivery are incomparable, grabbing your attention and holding it raptly until he’s good and well finished. There’s still no one that sounds like him all these years later. (Gogol frontman Eugene Hutz might be the closest that comes to mind, capturing the gleeful punk hutzpah and charm, but Gogol’s songs lack the poetry and heart that are essential elements of MacGowan’s work — which is not a knock on Gogol, who I love, but more a credit to what the Pogues and MacGowan accomplished with their music.) It just sounds sincere and not a contrived (or indifferent) fiction like so many other bands.

MacGowan always sounded like he was half in the bag while singing these songs — you can clearly picture him in that hot, crowded pub, standing on the bar and belting out these tunes while the rest of us sing along, hugging the shoulders of our neighbors with our pints hoisted in the air. Unfortunately, it seems he actually was — whether recording, performing, or most times in between, according to the documentary Crock of Gold: A Few Rounds with Shane MacGowan.

The film does a nice job telling the history of both MacGowan’s life and the band itself, going from a kid on a farm with no amenities to the rock and roll life of indulgence he ultimately enjoyed once the Pogues became stars.  It’s an interesting story — IRA relatives, the quest to “save” Irish music, and the one-of-a-kind MacGowan himself, part charmer, part joker — but it’s also a heartbreaking one. The toll of the aforementioned excess — the drink, to an extent, but primarily the drugs (namely heroin) that came later — has had a devastating impact as you see in the documentary.

It’s a gut-wrenching watch at times — I found myself getting mad at the filmmakers in those moments for showing MacGowan in such unflattering states: nodding off mid-conversation after reaching for his beer or wine, sitting there hunched over with crud on his cheek (whether saliva or snot). You wanted to shout at them “hey cmon, take it easy on the guy!” but then you realize the outrage and empathy are part of the point, as is the cautionary lesson that’s causing those emotions.

MacGowan (and the band) may be textbook examples of Ireland and its music, but he’s also one of the most searing reminders of the dangers of overindulgence and the terrible toll it can take. I’d always known he had struggled with drugs and that ultimately led to the breakup of the band (he carried on making similar music with the Popes for a few years after that, but largely disappeared by the late 90s), but never knew how devastating an impact they had had. It’s honestly tough to listen to the music the same way afterwards, knowing what happens as a result, which is unfortunate — they’re a great band and MacGowan wrote some fantastic songs over the course of his career.

One of my perennial faves is this one from their great second album, Rum Sodomy & the Lash. You could almost pick at random and find a winner — “The Old Main Drag,” “A Pair of Brown Eyes,” “Sally MacLennane,” “Navigator,” “A Rainy Night in Soho,” but my favorite has always been this one, “Dirty Old Town.” You need look no further than the song’s opening stanza to see what I was saying about MacGowan’s transportive powers — “I met my love by the gasworks walls, dreamed a dream by the old canal, I kissed my girl by the factory walls, dirty old town, dirty old town…”Those images jump to mind clear as day and the song’s just getting started — great stuff. Give it a listen (and the rest of the band’s stuff once you’re done!):

 

We’ll close with a couple quick hits caught in passing — first the latest single from British band Jungle, the winning disco track “Keep Moving.” No word on a new album yet, but hopefully this is a sign of more to come:

Next is my current fave off the new DFA album, Is 4 Lovers. The album itself is a bit disappointing so far (it starts out OK enough but then definitely loses me by the end), but this one’s a vintage winner.  Love the riff — check out “Free Animal” here:


We’ll close with the latest from Aesop Rock, who decided to write a song about a long-legged frog named Larry (which he released on National Frog Day, to boot).  Logically it may seem out of left field, but it’s a pretty fun little song (and an instant theme song for anyone bearing the titular name). Sing along with the crowd — “Go Larry! Go Larry! Go! Go! Go Larry!”

Until next time — stay safe, sane, and separate…

-BS

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Insta’ Gratification: Neko and the Flood from the ‘Gram

One of the best albums of the past 20 years celebrated an anniversary a few weeks back, beloved Neko Case’s flawless masterpiece, Fox Confessor Brings the Flood, which came out 15 years ago this month.  Easily her best album to date at the time (and honestly, probably still — though Middle Cyclone gives it a solid fight), it built upon the undeniable strengths of those preceding outings — the honky-tonk rambles of The Virginian and Furnace Room Lullaby and the more ethereal, stately blues of Blacklisted (which has possibly my favorite of her songs on it, the devastating beauty “I Wish I Was the Moon.”) Case showcases each of those elements on Confessor, as well as gospel and more straightforward indie songs, for an album that is perfect from top to bottom.

From the moment she got started Case’s one-of-a-kind voice was always the star — able to roar with unbridled ferocity or reduce you to tears with its kneebuckling versatility and beauty. What really came into focus on this album, though, was the strength of Case’s songwriting — songs about love, death, loneliness, and loss play out vividly across the album’s twelve tracks, although the lyrics are rarely as clear as the images they evoke. “Girl with the parking lot eyes” from opener “Margaret vs Pauline.” “My true love died in a dirty old pan of oil” from “Star Witness.” “Your body, limp, beneath my feet, your dusty eyes as cold as clay” from “Maybe Sparrow.”

You can clearly picture each of those things as she sings, yet the circumstances surrounding them aren’t always clear. The songs feel like flickering images from an unknown film where you get glimpses of what’s going on as the door to the theater opens and closes, but never see the entire movie. Images of birds, lions, wolves, and more pop in and out of view, never lingering long enough to tell you the whole story.

What holds it all together is what started it in the first place — that voice. That unbelievable, unparalleled voice. Case sounds amazing on this album, balancing the mystery of those images with the unquestionable emotion she packs into her performance. The anger that simmers beneath the line “everything’s SO easy for Pauline — for PauuuuLIIIIIIIIIIIINE!” at the end of the opener. The naked desperation in her plea, “pleaaaaaaaaaaaaase, don’t let him die” at the close of “Star Witness.” The unflinching confidence when she vows,”I don’t care if forever never comes cause I’m holding out for that teenage feeling.” The full-throated anguish over the titular bird in “Maybe Sparrow.” It hits you right in the heart, over and over again no matter how many times you listen, and it doesn’t matter whether you fully understand why — the voice tells you everything you need to know.

It’s again paired with her long-time duet partner Kelly Hogan’s on several of the best songs, reminding us that somehow even something as amazing as Case’s voice can become better. (Like adding bacon to almost anything or throwing a runny egg on top — are you ever sorry they showed up?) The two’s voices are so perfectly paired it’s intoxicating, an effect that’s only enhanced when you hear it in person. I remember seeing them perform this album at my favorite dive here in town and I legitimately was nearly knocked out on my feet — it was like listening to two angels serenade each other and you were just lulled into a dreamlike state of stupor, eyes closed and smiling. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a couple hundred people be so quiet.

It was an amazing show and it — like the album — remains one of my absolute favorites. Do yourself a favor and check it out, if for some reason you haven’t already.  I could pick any of the aforementioned songs to get you started, but I think my favorite is probably “At Last.” Short, sweet, and by the time the shimmering guitar comes in at the end you’re swooning — just lovely. Give it a listen here:

As I’m sure the eight of you are already aware, there’s been a surge in nonsense over on the ‘gram lately, large quantities of it courtesy of yours truly thanks to the dare issued to me recently by the one and only Oddge. Long story short she got tore up on seltzer and corn dogs one night and in the midst of that drunken frenzy she said, “yaknowwha — you’re wasting your time writing, Sunshine. You could post something EVERY SINGLE DAY and no one would notice.” She then whipped her half-filled White Claw at me across the room, kicked over my fern, and stormed out into the night to bark at dogs and passersby.

Tough love, to be sure, but far be it from me to ignore a challenge, so I’ve been doing my best to post something over there every day, offering the people what none of them asked for — more musical selections (and ramblings) from me! I’ve been having some fun with it, posting gems from the grocery store, birthday bashes, and relics from the past, as well as the usual new finds you’d expect to see here. It’s those latter ones I want to memorialize here, in part so I don’t forget them (still don’t love the disappearing stories) and in part so I can add them to the master playlist and have them come up on Sunshine Radio.  (Which I TOTALLY know more than just me uses — totally…)

I won’t rehash what I said over there (since I ALSO know all of you have already seen them before!), but if you feel like rewatching/listening, here’s your chance to dive back in! Until next time, my friends…

–BS

    • Watch the outstanding Netflix documentary on Latin American rock, Break it All. It showcases a ton of my faves, including the Argentine giants Soda Stereo:

    • Brit band Sports Team are definitely worth a listen, sounding like “a fun, hooky mix of Franz and the Strokes:”

    • Fellow Chicagoan Andrew Bird dropped a solid new album with his old Squirrel Nut Zippers pal Jimbo Mathus that’s a good listen:

    • Old-time faves The Band just released an expanded version of their Stage Fright album for its 50th anniversary and this one’s been a revived favorite:

    • Aussie act Amyl and the Sniffers released this ripshit rocker that’s been on repeat for much of the past few weeks:

    • Love em or hate em Kings of Leon are back with a new album and this is one of its better tracks:

    • Toronto titan Drake dropped a three song EP that has this solid collab with Lil Baby:

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The Need for Speed (Dating) — A Twelve Round Bout

Since the insomnia is ripping me up lately (today it decided to get me up at 2 instead of the customary 4 or 5 — such a treat!) thought I’d pop in with some one offs now that we cleared the reading backlog last week. And since my brain has next to no charge left and is flirting with the edges of delirium, you know what that means — time for everyone’s favorite game, sonic speed dating! Oddly enough, it’s been almost exactly a year since we did this the last time (is insomnia some weird annual holiday?), so strap on your finest face mask, dust off your least cheesy anecdote or line, and get ready for battle — it’s Sunshine Speed Dating!

DING! “Well hello there — I recognize you, Mr Gallagher, pleasure to see you!  I’ve gotta say, I used to be an ENORMOUS Oasis fan back in high school.  Yeah yeah, I know, so was the rest of the world. Wasn’t saying it to try and be cool, just wanted you to know I like your music. Even quite like your recent project, with those high flying birds — quite cinematic sounding. I gotta say though, aren’t all birds high flying more or less? You know, cuz otherwise they’d be hitting buildings or on the ground (aka not flying). What’s that? Fu#$ right off? Ok, ok, sorry — roger that.

I like your latest song, though — “We’re Gonna Get There in the End.” Very positive and motivational — I’m sure your brother’s going to make fun of you for being “soft” again or whatever for it, but it’s quite a nice thought in these trying times. What’s that? F#$k off again? No I was defending you — it’s nice! He just seems cranky a lot — maybe he’s not getting enough fiber? Speaking of fiber — remember all those times your brother called you a potato? What? — actually, nevermind, I know what you said…”

DING! “Speaking of brothers who can’t stand each other — hi Mr Robinson, good to see you! What the heck have YOU been up to lately? Are you still doing that don’t-call-it-the-Black Crowes band, As the Crow Flies? Your brother’s got one of those, too, I think, right? The Magpie Salute? Even got a bird in the name and everything!  Man it’s a real bummer you two can’t stand each other, y’all were pretty good back in the day. What’s that? Oh yes, I’m sure your recent stuff is good too — I just haven’t been able to keep up, what with the pandemic and everything.  Yes I know that’s only been for the past year and you guys broke up years ago.

Aaaaaaaanyway…..It’s cool you’re releasing that old Crowes song “Charming Mess” to sort of commemorate the 20th anniversary of Money Maker. Really takes you back — I almost expected you to drop a “prettylittathanglemmelightchacandle” or two in there, just for old time’s sake. What’s that? You’ve evolved as an artist and that was just one of your many songs? I know, I know — it’s just such a GOOD one though. Would have totally fit in! “CuuuuzamommaI’mjustacharminglittlemeeeess!” Maybe try it next time you sing it, see how it feels.  What’s that? Ha Noel Gallagher literally just told me the same thing — twice!”

DING! “My, that’s quite a hat you have there, Mr Meek! It kind of reminds me of those enormous Ranger Rick hats Pharrell was wearing a few years ago. Remember those? I wonder if he’s still wearing those — do you know? Oh sorry, yeah I guess you wouldn’t necessarily know — I just thought maybe y’all had to buy your stuff from the same shopkeeper, along with nickel candies and tinctures for whooping cough. I’m just kidding — it looks fine.

Anyway, I’ve liked a couple songs off your new album, including this latest one “Candle.”  Has anyone ever told you you kind of sound like that Clem Snide guy? I really liked some of their early stuff. They sang a song about bread. Did the theme song for that show Ed, too — remember that one, with the bowling alley lawyer?! I loved that show — pretty weird, but sweet. The early aughts were a strange time — we thought the clocks on our computers were going to shut society down for months when they flipped to 00! Remember that? Little did we know not wearing masks and staying in your house would do that 20 years later — if only we had to worry about bowling alley lawyers and killer clocks! Oh man — we aaaaaaaare IDIOTS! Anyway, good to meet ya, Mr Buck — good luck with that hat!”

DING! ” Hello there, Mr Massive! (Or is it Mister Attack?) I’m sorry, this is embarrassing. Yes I know that’s not really your name, I just can’t remember what it actually is. Hey remember when that guy thought Apple was run by a dude named Tim Apple? That was hilarious. ‘Mr Apple, I’d like you to meet my friends, Bob Ferrari and Steve Google. And over there are Susan Facebook and Wendy McDonald’s — they’re the tops!’ Ha yeah — he WAS the president! How insane was that!?

Anyway — I really dig the reinterpreted version of the Gang of Four song you just put out, ‘Where the Nightingale Sings.’ Really cool sounding, as always. I bet that guy would think each of the dudes in the band were brothers and their last name was Four. ‘Wait a second — there’s four of you AND your last name is Four?! Dave, Jon, Hugo, and Andy, the four Four brothers! What a coincidence — I’d start a gang too!’ Anyway, really hope you guys get together for a new album soon — I love your old stuff.  I used to put “Inertia Creeps” on at last call at the bar all the time. Was cool to watch people slowly get sucked in as they paired off or drunkenly shuffled out the door. Always fun to watch — such a great song. Anyway, good luck out there — hope to hear from you soon!”

DING! “Hi Mr Gallo! You’re looking quite striking in those bright white overalls. You know, you’re right — they’re fashionable AND functional! So much storage room in those pockets. I actually used to get sh#$ from people about wearing cargo short to festivals, so don’t let people get you down — they’re really the most functional thing you could wear.  Lets you keep everything you need right by your side while keeping your hands free for any clapping or fights you may need to break up. Maybe scarfing down a corn dog or two if you’re in the mood. What’s that? You think they’re horrifyingly outre and wouldn’t be caught dead in them?! Well that seems a bit judgy coming from a guy looking like a scrawny farmer.

Anyway, I just wanted you to know I really liked your first album — I saw you play it live at Lolla that year.  You played your guitar with a fire extinguisher! That was pretty cool. Totally unnecessary, but kind of fun. What’s that? Yes of course I had cargos on at the show. What? Why do you think it was me? No, I don’t move very much at shows, but I highly doubt it was me. Yes, tank top and bandana. Tattoos, yep. But that could describe dozens of people! I have to say, I really don’t appreciate your tone, Mr Gallo, they’re just shorts. I only wear them once a year now. Yes, it’s a rule… Anyway, the new remix you put out by Caroline Rose, ‘You Are Enough’ is cool. Kinda reminds me of Massive Attack a little. Yeah he was just here. For the record, he was way nicer than you….”

DING! “Oh hello — don’t think I’ve seen you here before. What’s your name? Lewsberg, eh? Sounds like a coal mining town in West Virginia. Where are you from? The NETHERlands, eh? That’s so cool! The land of clogs and chocolates. Windmills and weed!  And consonants — holy heck you guys got a lot of those. I remember trying to find my way around there before smartphones and the internet and getting lost in a sea of 26-character street names while dodging trams, bikes, and public urinals.  It was a wild time. But fun! Ah, to be young again…

Anyway, has anyone ever told you you guys sound a LOT like the Velvets?  It’s not a knock, I love those guys so it’s cool to hear a new band reinterpreting them. You can almost picture it playing in some seedy red light district as someone shoots up in the alley — just like New York back in the day! Yes I know that was a sad chapter in that city’s history. They’re doing much better now, it’s ok. Hey have you guys ever been to your red light district? I remember walking through there and feeling like an out of place hayseed — yes, kind of like Mr Gallo with those overalls! You get it.  Some things are just universal — like cargo shorts! What’s that? Well I could certainly live without the judgment from you guys — I only wear them once a year now. At most!”

DING! “Why hello — second first-timer in a row! What’s your name? Chad VanGaalen — well pleased to meet you! That sounds Dutch — you know that’s where those last guys were from? Oh really — you’re from Canada? That’s nice, it’s so lovely up there! Hey do you know those guys from Barenaked Ladies? I only ask because that song came on at the store this morning and I still can’t get it out of my head. I’m hoping there’s a pill.  “Yiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit’sBEEEEEEEEEEEEN!” Oh sorry — got you too, eh? Happens every time. Only need to hear that tiny phrase and you’re done. My buddy and I head farm each other with that and that Smashmouth song all the time just to fu#$ with each other.  “soooooooooooomeBODY!” Ugh sorry — got ya twice, huh? That’s my bad.

Anyway, just wanted to say I found you by chance recently and really liked some of the stuff off your last album, Light Information. Kind of has a late 90s/early 00s Flaming Lips vibe to me. Trippy lyrics, kinda out there. It works though. “Old Heads,” “Faces Lit,” “Pines and Clover” — all good tunes. I really liked “Friendly Aliens,” too.  You know who else talks about aliens and the paranormal — BNL! “Watching X-Files with no lights on, we’re dans la maison, I hope the Smoking Man’s in this one!” Honestly — do you know how I can get in touch with them? Last time this got stuck in my head it took three weeks before I could think straight again…”

DING! “Hello Mr Moore — you know, this evening is really for the birds.  Get it? Cuz your band is named Bowerbirds and there are so many other people here with bird-related offerings today?  Mr Gallagher, Mr Robinson, Mister Attack’s song — even that guy with the hat comes close. I screwed up his name the first time and almost called him Muck Beek. Muck Beak. Beak. Chirp chirp! Ha ha! What? Sorry — christ I’m tired. I really need a nap…

Anyway — it’s good to see you again. I lost the bead on you guys for a while, but really liked your debut (“In Our Talons” is still an outstanding song, btw) and was glad to hear you were coming back with new stuff. I liked the first single “Endless Chase” and really like this one, too. “Moon Phase.”  Hey did you see we landed on Mars last week? How cool is that?! Fricking rovers and drones zipping around on the red planet — before long it’ll be just like that old Arnold movie! What’s that? Yeah that Kuato thing was deeply disturbing — took me almost as long to get that out of my head as that Barenaked Ladies song. “Yiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit’sBEEEEEEEEEEEEN!”  What? Yah sorry, that’s my bad. I just can’t get it out of my head — did you see where that guy Chad went to? Maybe he’s heard back from them…”

DING! “Hi there Mr Oberst, good to see you again! Really loved the last album — it made my year end list! What’s that? No, it’s not a major award. No, not very many people read the blog, basically just a few of my friends and family. Why not all of them? I don’t know, you’d have to ask them — maybe they’re busy! Anyway, I think it’s important and don’t let any band onto the list, so just wanted to give you a compliment. Sorry I brought it up…

Anyway…I like the new cover you did, “Flirted With You All My Life.” I never really got into Vic Chestnutt, but know how popular he is with musicians. Sort of like Daniel Johnston — I like some of the other covers folks have done, but I’ve never been blown away listening to him on his own. Maybe this is the same type of deal. Your version is just so stately and pretty compared to the original, and I loved the harmonies you worked in there — I feel like it really makes the song shine.  What’s that? Ha — yeah, maybe you’ll end up on my year-end list again. I’ll be sure to mail you a certificate this time, just so you’ll know it’s important. [grumblegrumblegrumble….]”

DING! “Hi Mr Gonzalez, great to see you again! I LOVE your stuff, it’s so pretty and relaxing. Your first two albums are absolute favorites of mine. You know that guy whose song you covered, “Teardrop,” is here? Mr Massive! Nice guy. He’s working with the Four brothers now. What’s that? Yes I know you released a third album.  It was…..fine — nothing wrong with it, just felt a little more from your head than your heart like the first two. I still liked some of the tracks, though, and go see you whenever you tour. Yeah, remember concerts? I REALLY miss those. This is the longest I haven’t been to one since HIGH SCHOOL! (Which I know you probably think was five, maybe ten years ago max, but is actually a lot closer to 30 than I’d like to admit.) Whatever — it’s not how old you are, it’s how old you feel, right? What’s that? You think I look old enough to have gone to school that long ago, maybe longer? That’s….that’s hurtful Mr Gonzalez, I feel like you’re trying to get back at me for not liking your third album as much as the others. “Let it Carry You” and “Leaf Off” were nice tracks!

Anyway, I like the new song too, “El Invento.” Not gonna lie to you, it took me a minute to realize it was in another language. I’m not sure if you heard me talking to the others, but I’m REALLY tired right now — I thought I was having a stroke for a second! So glad to realize it was just Spanish… Well, just wanted you to know I really love your stuff and hope you’ve got more material on the way. What’s that? Oh cmon — not everyone’s going to like every album the same, Mr Gonzalez. I even like your side project stuff, give me a break!”

DING! “Oh hi guys, haven’t seen you in a while either — the LORDS of HURON! Such a regal sounding name. Your stuff is always so pretty, it always makes me want to lie down on the floor, just to soak it all in and maybe drift off to sleep. I did that once at a festival you were at and it didn’t go great — got stepped on a bunch and someone made fun of my shorts. What’s that? Alright seriously, there is NOTHING WRONG with cargo shorts, guys.  Did you see Gallo walking around in those bright white overalls? Maybe go give him a little sh#$ since you’ve got so much to spare. Geezus…

ANYway. The new song from the upcoming album is really nice — “Not Dead Yet.” A slightly different message than Mr Gallagher’s song, say, but still a positive nod towards perseverance. Excited to hear what else is on the album.  I’m not gonna lie, I watched the video and got worried for a second that something was wrong with my eyes. I don’t know if you heard me talking to Mr Gonzalez, but I’m running on like NO sleep right now. Thought I was starting to hallucinate when I couldn’t make out your faces. You know what, even though this is a bit more uptempo than your normal stuff, I think I’m still going to lie down just the same…..just for a second……it’s something about your voice, it’s so relaxing…..really starting to feel it now….

DING! “Hey! What are you doing down here, Mr Berninger?!  Were you listening to that Lord Huron song as well? What? Oh ha — just had a little too much merlot and getting sleepy, eh? Well that’s ok, a good wine nap on the weekend is ALWAYS enjoyable.  So warm and cozy…

Hey I really liked your solo album and LOVE your band, you’re one of my faves. My social media lady Oddge really likes you guys, too. The latest extra you released from the former is really pretty, “Let it Be.” Sounds just like the other stuff on the album — in a good way, not in a “man this is repetitive” sense. Definitely not trying to insult you — ha! You should have seen how upset the last guy got when I said I didn’t love his last album — he said I look old! What’s that? YOUR guys’ last album? Um…I mean….it was……..did I say how much I liked your solo album? It made my year end list! Same with most of your other ones! What’s that? No, no it’s not a major award. No, nobody reads my blog.  You know what — forget it. I’ll send you a frigging certificate like Oberst next time…

DING DING DING!

That’s it for now, my friends — hang in there, we’re maybe getting to the end of this thing. In the meantime, stay safe, stay sane, and stay separate…

–BS

 

 

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Reading Rainbow: Anniversary Blend

There’s been a flurry of solid writeups from the Stereogum staff lately on some excellent albums celebrating their birthdays, so thought I’d share before they stack up any further and give folks something to read with the morning paper tomorrow.  First up, appropriately, is this one on the 10 year anniversary of Kanye’s masterful monolith, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy.  The ‘meds are on fire right now with the news that he’s getting a divorce from Kim Kardashian, so it’s only fitting to start here, looking back on an album that was a chaotic mix of love and hubris that was (and still is) his crowning achievement.

The article does a good job walking through both the music and the surrounding context — always a knotty affair with Mr West — and speaks nicely about the album’s importance (particularly in light of the subsequent decline). It was an absolute beast, landing at #4 on my 2010 list, and it’s held up well in the intervening years. As I wrote then, “In other hands such a variety of thoughts and styles could come off as cluttered, cloying, or catastrophic — every song has numerous guest stars, from rappers, to pop stars, to comedians, spoken word rebels, and indie boner-inducers like Bon Iver. Each song could have failed multiple times over their 5-9 minute lengths from all the dissonant styles packed in, let alone the album as a whole. And yet with Kanye they are a delight — a flawed, over-reaching affair at times, but one that’s quickly and consistently redeemed. In a word, pure genius.”

In light of the pair’s unfortunate separation, pop on the beautiful “Blame Game” as a soundtrack while you read:

Next comes this writeup on the 20 year anniversary of the New Pornographers’ classic debut, Mass Romantic. The article does a fantastic job trying to capture the utter joy and revelation that this album was. For me it’s always been the epitome of delirium, the equivalent of that unwieldy shot of adrenaline from Pulp Fiction, only being driven straight into your brain this time. It’s that instantaneous, that irresistible — the second you hear some of the songs, you bolt upright gasping like Uma off the floor.

“My Slow Descent into Alcoholism,” “Jackie,” “Letter From an Occupant,” the title track — there’s so much goodness here I defy people to listen and not succumb to their powers.  I used to listen to this album religiously back in college, driving around with the songs blaring from my windows, singing like I was trying to be heard from space (which is where I’m sure most of the pedestrians I passed wished they were to be out of range of all the noise). I just didn’t care — the songs were (are) so good, you couldn’t be unhappy when listening to them and didn’t feel like hiding it (or trying). The band has never come close to recapturing the pure joy of this album and I’ve subsequently lost the bead on them as an act, but I’ll always have this to go back to and revel in, daring the neighbors to call the cops. Try “The Body Says No” for a taste and see what I mean:


Next comes another 10 year anniversary, this of Radiohead’s ninth album, King of Limbs. The article makes this out to be a more divisive album than I knew it to be (or think it is now), but agree it has aged even better since its release. As I wrote then, when the album landed at #11 on that year’s wrapup, “[the band] sent forth their ninth disc in a similar vein to their previous two albums, In Rainbows (I & II). Those albums built upon the elements of their predecessors — lots of nervous energy and twitchy electro beats intermingling with Thom Yorke’s ethereal moan — while cutting in a new-found warmth and sexiness. This album continues the trend, combining that sensuality with an ever-intensifying complexity as the band piles layers upon layers to their songs, leading you incrementally towards that glorious moment where it all snaps into place.”

Interestingly, when we did the fan favorite “WHO’S ON TOP!” segment for these guys I had this album towards the bottom of the list, just above the disappointing A Moon Shaped Pool and their middling debut. When I think of this album, though, I always do so in positive terms — I like this album, while disliking those other two —  and am always reminded of the aforementioned moment when it finally made sense. For me that came while watching the Live from the Basement DVD of the sessions, which absolutely blew my mind — it was the first time I fully appreciated how much went into these songs and how important it was to really listen to them, as I watched them quietly layer instrument over instrument until that lightning striking the clocktower moment when they all line up and ignite.  It was (and is) one of my favorite music DVDs and one of the times I’ve been most impressed watching a band. Check out one such example from the Colbert performance I referenced back then, “Little by Little:”


We’ll keep the indie stalwart trend going and shift to Spoon’s fantastic third album, Girls Can Tell, which recently turned 20. This has forever been my favorite album of the band — and I’ve had a number of them show up on year-end lists over the years — but there’s just something about this one that keeps it arm’s length from the rest.  As the article says, it just SOUNDS cool. The attitude is palpable, Britt’s voice sounds wonderfully weathered and worn, and the playing is surgically precise — guitars growl, drums pop, but not a single note is wasted. To paraphrase the previous band, everything is in its right place.

Thanks to this and Britt’s lyrics, the album feels almost cinematic, more a collection of evocative short films than a series of “rock” songs. This isn’t a surprise — Spoon songs regularly show up in TV and movies (hell, sleeper fave Stranger than Fiction has almost nothing BUT Spoon songs — but that vibe began here. Songs like the opening “Everything Hits at Once,” “Me and the Bean,” “Lines in the Suit,” and “The Fitted Shirt” are all excellent examples, cramming a lifetime into 3 or 4 brisk minutes.  Even the album cover rules, just a blue-green photo of a spinning record with the name and title marching single-file — it could be the poster for any self-respecting indie flick, then or now. Besides the above songs, one of my perennial faves is the penultimate “Take the Fifth,” which grabs you by the ears before the album rolls credits with the aptly named instrumental “This Book is a Movie.”  Give it a listen here:

We’ll close with a couple quick notes to balance all the reading — first, Atlanta faves Manchester Orchestra recently did a livestream of their excellent 2017 album, A Black Mile to the Surface (which landed at #8 on that year’s list). They went back to the church they recorded at in Carolina for the performance and played the album start to finish, sounding great as always.  (They also teased a new album dropping in April — yippee!) Give it a watch/listen here:


Lastly, we started a new segment this week at the behest of my social media manager, Fuddge. In a fiery series of text messages she told me, “Sunshine, everybody loves your insightful and engaging posts, but there’s not enough of em — people need more of you, only with less words and less time required.” Thus were born Fuddge Pops — daily (or near daily) posts on the official Sunshine ‘Gram account where I’ll throw up the song of the day.  Some of them might end up meriting fuller engagement here on the site, others will just be random passing thoughts or jams to get (or keep) the day going. We’ll experiment with other material on there in the coming months — she’s got a very expansive campaign in mind — but for now figure a few songs should keep things going in between posts. So check it out and see what you think — in the meantime, stay safe, stay sane, and stay separate.

Until next time, amici…
–BS

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Super Saturday — Double Shot Discoveries

Since I’m apparently so excited about the Super Bowl that I’m up for the second day in a row at 4AM (who knew!), figured I’d put my restless energies to more productive use and come hang out with my legions of adoring fans. As long timers you likely know one of my favorite annual traditions around this time, aside from thinking back on the year that was and assembling my essential soundtrack, is rifling through other people’s year end lists to see what I might have missed. There’s always a treasure or two that surfaces and this year is no different. So in honor of the impending sportsball showcase and the year these originated in (so nice they named it twice), here’s some highlights from the annual hunt.

First comes the debut album from Bartees Strange, a producer/performer who apparently lives with us here in the District and has similarly wide-ranging musical tastes as yours truly. Over its 11 tracks his album manages to pack in everything from R&B and experimental electronic to full throated indie anthems and hip hop. It’s an interesting mix, and while those elements could crowd each other out or clash, Strange makes them work for the most part, essentially giving us the equivalent of a one man mixtape.

He loads things up at the front, walloping us with the one-two of winners “Mustang” and “Boomer” before settling into slightly more subdued tracks like “In a Cab,” “Stone Meadows,” and “Flagey God.” Strange’s voice and production definitely bring to mind early TV on the Radio and you can even hear elements of fellow early aughts indie darlings the National with some of the guitar. (This is likely not a coincidence — Strange’s first EP, Say Goodbye to Pretty Boy, was a five track cover of that band’s songs.) Will definitely be curious to see where he goes next — check out two of my aforementioned favorites, “Boomer” and “Flagey God,” here:


Next comes another eclectic set of sounds on the double album drop from the mysterious Sault, which aside from impressive variety gives one of the most arresting, uncomfortable listens of the year. Released within three months of each other, these three dozen songs pack in everything from disco and R&B to drumlines, afropop, and soul.  And while the influences may shift, the focus is firm —  this is an unapologetic, brutally honest reflection of the Black experience in America today.

It sort of takes you by surprise — at first blush it’s easy to get lost in the rhythms and melodies, which are really good, but once you start paying attention to the lyrics it’s impossible to ignore. And you shouldn’t — they’re worth paying attention to.  Songs of positivity, police brutality, pain, and perseverance. It’s an incredibly dense, affecting mix, and despite the discomfort I kept finding myself going back for more.

There’s a ton to latch onto — “Strong,” “I Just Want to Dance,” “Free,” “Hard Life,” “Uncomfortable,” and “Wildfires” lull you to sleep before burying the knife, while “Street Fighter,” “Stop Dem,” “Don’t Shoot Guns Down,” “Monsters,” and “Bow” are more straightforward assaults. It’s pretty impressive for a UK-based outfit to so effectively encapsulate the reality on the ground here (at least, as much as my privileged white bread eyes can see) . Check out two of many faves, the aforementioned “Bow” and the beautiful “Little Boy” here:

We’ll close with my favorite of the finds, the sophomore album from French five piece En Attendant Ana, which after the hopscotching styles and the stares at suffering and systemic racism is a refreshing reprieve, as singular and steady as it is short and sweet. Sounding a lot like Canadian quintet Alvvays, these Parisians offer an effervescent blast of sunshine across the album’s brisk 35 minutes. (Similar to their equally winning 2018 debut, it turns out.)

Virtually every track shimmers with their bright, jangly guitars. Opener “Down the Hill,” “Somewhere and Somehow,” and “In/Out” all sizzle, as do latter tracks “Flesh or Blood” and “Enter my Body (Lilith).” Frontwoman Margaux Bouchaudon’s lilting voice holds them all together, gliding gauzily atop the melodies like milkweed in the breeze. The band slows down only briefly across the album’s ten tracks, as on midpoint “From my Bruise to an Island” and the penultimate “When it Burns,” which is a momentary pause before the exclamation point finale, “The Light that Slept Inside.” That one, plus “Do You Understand” are solid summations of the band’s charms and two of my current favorites — check em out here:


In the midst of my looking back I stumbled on another discovery worth mentioning, as the various music sites were gushing about the latest album from the British band Shame, which came out a week or so ago. In part because of the level of adulation (just picture what I receive on a day to day basis and multiply that by a hundred — who wouldn’t be intrigued!?), and also just because I liked the album title and cover I gave it a spin and I’m really glad I did.

Sounding a lot like similarly minded UK bands Silverbacks, Squid, and Fontaines DC, these guys infuse their snarky sensibility with some ferocious licks and unshakeable grooves. Frontman Charlie Steen has an almost Isaac Brockian quality to his delivery, rocketing from deadpan to frenzied shout in seconds, stretching words out like warm pieces of taffy. (What he’s shouting about is similarly entertaining, enthusiastically belting out inanities like “I can’t see no squares, all I see is circles” and “Change the sheets on my BED — I wanna smell fresh LINEN!” with gleeful abandon.)

It’s a solid outing — the first six tracks alone make it worth your time, building from the smoldering opener “Alphabet” to the epic “Snow Day,” which shifts tones and tempos multiple times over its furious five minute duration. It’s a flawless run, buttressed by back half winners like “Great Dog” and “6/1.” Really glad I succumbed to the siren song on this one — another solid entry to the arsenal (note: their debut’s not bad either).  Check out current faves “March Day” and “Water in the Well” here:

We’ll close with a couple quick hits from some old friends — first the latest from Nathaniel Rateliff, who offered a song to the new Justin Timberlake movie Palmer. Looks like a pretty decent watch, so will be interested to see where this shows up in the proceedings. Rateliff gave a really nice acoustic performance from what appears to be his attic/sun room (man, I wanna know what albums he’s got lined up there!), which matches the coziness of the room. Give it a listen here:

Next comes the latest from Dr Bob and the boys, who have changed guises again and come to us now as Cub Scout Bowling Pins. Can’t really tell the difference from their main stuff (maybe because there’s a keyboard on one of the songs?), but it doesn’t really matter.  They released a five song EP this week, which — like all things GBV — is hit or miss, but there’s a couple good tracks on there. The best of the bunch is this one, the bright and shining “Heaven Beats Iowa:”

 

Last up is the latest from scuzzy punk faves Death From Above, who announced they’re releasing their fourth album soon. The first single’s a grower — familiar sounding riff that gets lodged in your brain and an infectious dance beat from Seb that gradually overcame my initial resistance. Singing about love and fatherhood certainly diminishes the customary fire and danger a bit, but we’ll see what the rest of the album is hiding. In the meantime, this is a pretty effective ear worm — check out “One + One” here:

That’s it for now, my friends — we’ll see what TomTom and Company have in store for us tomorrow night. Here’s hoping it’s a heck of a game.  Until next time — stay safe, sane, and separate…

–BS

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Gifts from the Green Zone: Songs from the Hit (or Miss) Parade

The year’s sure off to a heck of a start, eh? COVID’s safely in our rear-view mirror and the news has gone back to being as exciting as Mayberry on a Sunday morning. What’s that? We just logged our 13th consecutive time adding 1M COVID cases in less than a week? And in that same amount of time we saw three things that hadn’t happened in at least 200 years, if ever — the storming of the capital, a second impeachment, and a fortification of DC that includes more troops than there are residents in the area they’re protecting? (And four times as many as are currently in Iraq and Afghanistan?) Well I’m sure glad we left all the aggravations and anxiety back in 2020!

As they rapidly turn my neighborhood into a medieval walled city, thought I’d hustle in with some songs before the fences go up across my living room, too. The last few months of last year had some releases from artists I’ve enjoyed and/or written about in the past, but whose consistency has wavered lately, preventing me from fully endorsing them. There still are some solid tracks on them, though, so in the spirit of the lockdown and the need to celebrate bright spots each and every time they show their scaredy-cat faces, here’s some highlights from them.

First is the latest from country behemoth Chris Stapleton who might seem a strange inclusion here as my indifference if not disdain for modern country is well-known (at least to the eight of you reading this). And while there’s definitely a few too many chest-thumping, good ole boy “MURRICA!” moments in here, there’s a handful of really good songs, too, to keep you torn. Does Stapleton, like most modern country singers, have a formula? For sure. (I joked at work the recording sessions had to have closed with a conversation along the lines of, “Lemme see — do I have a song about brown water? Check! What about the devil? CHECK! Anything about being country or a redneck? Check! A city or state? DOUBLE CHECK! OMG guys, this album is gonna be huge!”)

When he strays a little from this and leaves the faux aggression aside, though, is when it’s most interesting. The slower songs work well (“You Should Probably Leave,” “Nashville, TN”), there’s a cover of a lesser-known John Fogerty track that’s solid (“Joy of my Life”), and former Heartbreakers Mike Campbell and Benmont Tench show up on most of the album’s songs, adding their characteristic flourishes to the material. (Campbell even co-wrote a pair of tracks, “Watch You Burn” and the ripping should be state anthem “Arkansas.”) There’s even a song about his dog that makes me tear up damn near every time. These end up being enough to balance out the other eye rollers — none moreso than the title track, which is so good even Obama endorsed it. See what Presidentially-sponsored singing sounds like here:


We’ll jump genres and head over to the electrosphere next, a place I used to spend a lot more time before old age, early nights, and a general decline in the music’s quality and creativity drove me away. (Honestly — if I hear one more Skrillex-inspired soundtrack of machines intermittently screaming over the same beat, I might lose it.) Before the fall, MSTRKRFT were one of my frequent listens, as half of the duo belonged to beloved Death From Above 1979 (plus they made some banging tracks in their own right, too.)

They started going in a more aimless, house-driven direction in recent years in lieu of the thunderous hooks of their earlier albums and their last one, 2016’s Operator, only had a couple tracks that caught my ear. (“Priceless,” “Party Line”) Their latest EP, Black Gloves, is more of the same, but this track is a throwback winner.  Driving beat, infectious lyric, all but guaranteed to make you move — check out “Alexyss” and crank it up:


We’ll jump genres one more time and head over to the third perpetually disappointing modern genre, rap. All three of the genres represented thus far are years past their golden age (country’s I’d argue was the late 60s/early 70s, electro the late 90s/early 00s, and rap ruled the late 80s and most of the 90s), but none might be more disappointing to me than rap. What used to sport some of the most relentlessly creative artists and lyricists has now devolved into a monolithic mush of materialistic lyrics and weak beats. As always, there are exceptions, but they’re further and further from the rule these days and even they increasingly fall victim to the rampant shoddiness.

Case in point is Aesop Rock whose efforts with Rob Sonic as Hail Mary Mallon have yielded two excellent albums to date. (2011’s Are You Gonna Eat That? and 2014’s Bestiary.) Unfortunately his solo outings have always been plagued by inconsistencies and his latest is no different. (To be fair, Rob’s last album was a bit disappointing, too — the virus is everywhere!) A sprawling, double digit outing, there are a handful of winners across its 21 tracks — “The Gates,” “Button Masher,” and “Holy Waterfall” all sizzle, but the album’s closer is the absolute winner.  Big beat, solid hook, and breathless verses rattled off effortlessly  in Aes’ singular baritone — check out “The Four Winds” here:

We’ll leave the world of intermittent letdowns and dive into the world of the unknown (without expectation there can be no disappointment!) with a few new discoveries that caught my ear.  Each comes from the rap world, though from slightly different sectors.  First up is a track from LA-based clipping., which hails from the subsection apparently known as horrorcore — basically songs about death, dying, blood, murder, etc etc etc with abrasive, dissonant beats.  You know, the usual stuff you turn to after a hard day at the office and putting the kids to bed.

Both the genre as a whole and their albums tend to blur together after a bit, but some of the beats and verses are solid in small doses.  Vocalist Daveed Diggs (who apparently used to be on Broadway in Hamilton!) has a rapid fire cadence that calls to mind Andre of Outkast fame at times and the production from co-conspirators Jonathan Snipes and William Hutson have similar bite. Interesting but not enrapturing, they’re still worth a listen — check out “Say the Name” here:


Next comes another from the LA scene, this time from soloist Busdriver, who’s worked with everyone from Danger Mouse and Danny Brown to Deerhoof and the aforementioned Aesop Rock. He’s got a similarly manic, machine gun delivery to Diggs — almost Twista-esque at times — but he slows it down on this one when pairing with Anderson.Paak (another member of the hit or miss parade). All laid back groove and sunshine haze, this one’s an easy winner — check out “Worlds to Run” from 2015’s Thumbs:


We’ll close with a pair of songs from the other side of the pond, twin tracks from the UK on the more soulful side of the spectrum.  First up is a song from the Nottingham duo Young T & Bugsey who apparently hit it big over there last year with the song “Strike a Pose” (a forgettable track other than for the line “Drinking on a Duck Duck Goose y’know,” which got me to look up WTF that was).  This one’s a little more meaty — solid beat and decent verses, give “Don’t Rush” a ride here:


Last up comes a song from London’s Bakar whose song keeps showing up in these NFL Shop commercials during football games.  I’d heard it a few months ago courtesy of Co-worker Andrew and promptly forgotten about it thanks to my oatmeal lockdown brain. The onslaught of NFL commercials (approximately 374 for every game, minimum) got it firmly lodged back in the bowl, though, and I’m glad it did. It’s a bright, easy ride and Bakar has a smooth laid-back delivery that works well.  Score one for modern advertising — check out “Hell n Back” here:


Until next time, amici — stay safe, stay separate, and stay sane…

–BS