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UK Computer — Slow Gerry Action

Realized it’s been a couple weeks — weeks? Months? I’m not sure anymore, actually — all time has lost significance in Pandemia… — so wanted to pop in with some more music to fuel your fugue.  Since we can’t travel anymore (what will take longer — you feeling comfortable getting on a cross-country/ocean plane or you hugging/handshaking another person?) thought we could vicariously skip across the pond to the Queen’s backyard for a little ramble through the realm. We’ll start with my former homeland and the work of a bunch of Scots, first the acoustic offerings of Gerry Cinnamon.  Aside from being a fun alias generator (your grandfather’s name and a spice — Milt Cardamom! Duke Rosemary! Ellis Coriander!) ole Gerry makes quite a ruckus with just his voice and guitar, belting out bangers that would whip the local pub into a festive singalong.

His music is perfectly suited for that type of venue — raucous, warm rooms filled with clinking pints and chatty people. (Remember those? Pop quiz 2 — what will take longer, you feeling comfortable being in a packed bar/club or you not wanting to wash your hands immediately after touching a door handle/credit card keypad/elevator button?) And while we may not be able to see him (or anyone) in those settings quite yet, his album conjures that aura from the comforts of your home.  His second album, The Bonny, is full of songs that will whisk you towards the tavern and is just as winning as his 2017 debut, Erratic Cinematic.

The recipe’s the same — just Cinnamon’s thickly accented voice, acoustic guitar, and simple, earnest lyrics — and while it’s not one you haven’t heard a hundred times before, it’s well-executed and winning here. Songs like “Head in the Clouds,” “Dark Days,” and “Outsiders” are spare strummers, the occasional harmonica thrown in for a little spice, but built on solid melodies that lock you in, while ones like the title track sound like unearthed relics, centuries-old folk songs that have been sung for generations rather than a scant few months. The rest of the album’s much the same — there’s really not a stinker in the bunch — and it’s been an enjoyable, transportive listen the past few weeks.

I’d been looking forward to seeing him live this summer at Shaky Knees (I think seeing him in the sunshine and fresh air will almost be as good an environment for him as that bustling, booming bar), but who knows if/when that’ll ever happen.  In the meantime, take a listen to the lead track “Canter” and savor the added pleasure of hearing/singing lines like “if you were just a wee bit less of a wanker,” which might just be the perfect cure to what ails us. (Along with light, heat, and bleach, of course.)

Second verse, same as the first! We’ll stay in the highlands (why would anyone want to leave?!) and essentially repeat most of what we discussed with young Gerry — a band of Glaswegians, back with their second album, sticking with the sound of their debut (which also came in 2017), putting out high energy, winning tunes that’re almost impossible not to get caught up in. The main difference in this case being who the band calls to mind — whereas Cinnamon reminds you a little of Frank Turner at times, the lads of Catholic Action could be the kids of Franz Ferdinand with their infectious, danceable grooves and their swaggering confidence.

Their second album (Celebrated by Strangers) is a rather breathless affair, opening with five straight songs all but guaranteed to get you moving. Songs like “Grange Hell (South London in D),” “Witness,” “Yr Old Dad,” and “People Don’t Protest Enough” are high octane winners (the latter two showcasing some of that Franzian cheekiness, too, with “Dad” opening with the comical line “Yer ooooooold DAAAAAAAAD is dyyyyyyin” while “People” offers the endlessly enjoyable refrain of “tell me what you d-d-d-d-d. what d-d-d-d-d-desPIIIIIIIIISE!”) They give a bit of a breather on the back half of the album, balancing “Another Name for Loneliness” and “Four Guitars (For Scottish Independence” with slower tracks like “And It Shows” or “Sign Here.” It’s another solid outing for the foursome — none more enjoyable than “One of Us,” whose drunken, carnivalesque breakdown at the end (with the boys deliriously shouting “la da da da da da da da daaaaaaaaaaaa”) will have you laughing and dancing along. Check it out here:

Last offering from the kingdom comes from rapper Slowthai, the rambunctious problem child that the British tabloids just love to hate (or hate to love — maybe both).  You know the profile — covered in tattoos, provocative statements, even more provocative behavior, endlessly grinning at either his own audacity or people’s overheated response to it (or both).  His debut Nothing Great About Britain was underwhelming — similar to most British rap, I found the beats bland and the verses (with their sing song cadence and accented language) similarly limp — but his recent work with Gorillaz and his string of recent singles has me intrigued.

One immediately notices an upgrade on the latter in terms of beats — courtesy of the aptly named Kenny Beats and others, these hit harder than those on his debut and it serves his frantic delivery (and his lyrical content) well. He dropped three in a week and they’re all pretty good — “Magic,” “Enemy,” and “BB (Bodybag)” — the latter being the best, in my opinion, with its haunting earworm of a melody.  We’ll see if these are building to an album or just a series of one-offs to ride out the pandemic — in the meantime give this one a listen:

We’ll come back to this side of the Atlantic for a few closers, first the latest from Kills frontwoman Alison Mosshart who appears to be gearing up for the release of her first solo album.  Her last single “Rise” was a solid listen and this one’s no different, sporting her signature bluesy rasp. Still no word on an official release date, but we’ll keep a lookout and hope for something soon. Check “It Ain’t Water” out in the meantime:

Next comes the latest single from the upcoming debut of Pottery, a Canadian five piece whose frantic energy call to mind early Talking Heads.  They’ve released a couple other tracks from the album, Welcome to Bobby’s Motel (what I say to all visitors of the Sunshine Chateau), but this one’s my early favorite.  Sounding like a potential outcast from the aforementioned band’s 77, this one builds to a killer breakdown that’ll have you stomping along by the end.  Hopefully the rest of the album captures similar magic (it’s due out June 26) — check out “Hot Heater” while we wait:

Last up we’ll head to my favorite place on the planet (#GPOE!) and the latest from Chicago band Primitive Teeth, who just released their second EP (self-titled, just like their first). These guys were a new discovery for me, but I really like what I’ve heard so far.  From the thundering drums to the powerful voice of their lead singer, these guys have a commanding presence that belies their limited time on the scene. (Truth be told, they wouldn’t sound out of place next to some of the early 80s punk bands that surrounded the aforementioned Heads.) You can stream/buy both their EPs off their Bandcamp site, with the lead track from their latest being the best place to start — check out “Bubble of Me” here:

That’s it for now, my friends… –BS

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Slow Unsteady — Headrests and Morning Jackets

It’s been a relatively quiet couple of weeks in quarantine — the death and unemployment rates continue to climb with worrisome speed and abandon, yet some states are starting to open back up (which feels a bit like ripping off the rubber while you’re still pumping away to me), while the indistinguishable blur of days continues oozing past. (The difference between work day and weekend, at this point, being an extra can of beer and a slightly sassier pair of sweatpants.)  It feels like the stay-at-home orders are finally beginning to take their toll on folks, scrambling their brains and making them a little stir crazy (which perhaps is partly fueling the urge to reopen).  This can cause you to do silly things, like wearing glasses to a mask factory, or putting your underwear on backwards and not noticing it until nearly dinnertime.

It seems like some people’s response now is to just lay there on the couch because even the act of deciding what to watch or order for lunch feels like too much work. That fatigue has translated into the music community, too, as the previous flurry of live streams happening day to day has dropped considerably, with several shifting to the re-airing of old performances in lieu of live ones. Tweedy thankfully remains a nightly stalwart (a true warrior against the Invisible Enemy!), but otherwise it’s been slim pickin’s the past few weeks — Morbzahatchee went on temporary hiatus (sniff), Shaky Knees did a compressed virtual festival showing highlights from previous years as solace for our not being able to be there in person last weekend (sniff), and that’s about it.

Yesterday was actually the first day I had anything non-Tweedy-related to watch in a week and it happened to be good one, an acoustic set from Nathaniel Rateliff from 2019. It was part of Pickathon’s Concert a Day series, which is doing something similar to Shaky, only larger and longer — 60 performances in 60 days, pulling from the festival’s archives to showcase some of the best sets in recent years.  They’ve had sets from Andrew Bird, the Lone Bellow, and others the past few weeks, with folks like Built to Spill, Shakey Graves, and more still to come (they’re a little cagey with the schedule, only releasing a week at a time on their Facebook page, but I got alerts for those already so am hopeful).  It’s been fun to check out the shows while they’re available (you only have three days to watch em, so you gotta stay on point!), which brings us back to Nathaniel’s set.

Recorded just last year, it was predominantly filled with songs from his recently released album (the lovely And It’s Still Alright), which was nice to hear as his show is one of many I was supposed to attend before getting scuttled by the pandemic.  What made the set stand out, though, was Rateliff’s emotional performance, getting choked up with tears towards the end as he talked and sang about his friend Richard Swift, who had helped him record half the album at that point and was the subject of several of its songs. (Swift passed away unexpectedly in 2018.) It was really moving to see someone so openly and honestly struggling with that loss a year later, and it adds a depth and poignancy to the songs (which were already quite pretty). None moreso than the set/album closer, “Rush On,” a song sung directly at Swift (playing on his last name’s implied speed in the title). It’s worth a listen/watch, so catch his performance while you’ve still got time, or check out the album version here if you’re slow and miss it:

Due to the dearth of other options and the letdown of the live streams, I’ve spent the majority of my days obsessively alternating between old My Morning Jacket albums and the new Car Seat Headrest album this week, Making a Door Less Open.  The former got stuck in my head thanks to the virtual Shaky festival, which only played a few songs from favorites like Queens, the National, Manchester Orchestra, and others (including Car Seat), but played the entire headlining set from MMJ on day one.

I’ve always liked these guys in small doses, losing interest when they get overly jammy or hippie dippy, but seeing their set reminded me that when they keep those things in check they’re quite good. (And they are a pretty perfect festival band — I’ve seen em live a couple times and they just seem to pair seamlessly with sunshine and open air.) One that stood out was old favorite “Circuital,” the title track from their 2011 album, which has James’ signature voice soaring out over the crowd as the boys whip them into a lather. It’s a great listen, one I revisited many times this week (along with the rest of the album):

As for the new Car Seat, we’d already heard singles “Can’t Cool Me Down,” “Martin,” and “Hollywood” here before, and they seemed to indicate frontman Will Toledo was moving in a new, more electronic direction (which as the eight of you likely suspect has had me somewhat apprehensive, knowing my love of bands that start including synthesizers later in their careers).  He’d hinted at this before, most notably on 2018’s Twin Fantasy, which re-imagined old songs of his, giving them a dancier vibe than the more traditional indie rock sound on his excellent Teens of Denial and Teens of Style albums.

I’d bristled at that a bit at the time, but after spending an inordinate number of hours with this album this week have apparently come to embrace the new sound (holy hell — he’s growing, folks!) There’s something about the energy here that’s infectious — Toledo always has had the ability to make you want to shout along to certain songs at the top of your lungs (“Killer Whales” and “Bodys” being but two excellent examples) — but that effect is enhanced by the driving groove of some of these tracks.  It’s tough not to move along (maybe tapping both big toes to the beat?!) and none of the tracks is more irresistible (so far) than this one, “Deadlines (Hostile).”  It has all of the above — bouncing bass line, rocking guitar riffs, and several Holy Toledo moments where you’ll be shouting along deliriously (“I know I won’t AAAAAAAAAAALWAAAAAAAAYS needyoulikethis…”) I’ve listened to this easily twenty-five times this week and it still whips me into a frenzy — crank it up and see how it works on you:

We’ll close with a couple one offs, first from Radiohead frontman Thom Yorke who debuted a new song on Fallon last week, “Plasticine Figures.” It’s just Thom and a piano, which is about as perfect a pairing as you can ask for. Check it out here:

Lastly comes the return of the Bowerbirds, who have been missing for eight years (their 2012 album The Clearing was the last we’d heard from them). They’re back unexpectedly with two new songs this week, the best of which is this one, “Endless Chase.” It’s the same recipe as before, warm, folksy vibe riding along on frontman Phil Moore’s voice — it’s a welcome return. Hopefully there’s a full album in store soon.  In the meantime, enjoy this one:

Hang in, hang back… –BS

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X Marks the Spot: Unearthed Surprises

Life in the live stream carried on mostly as usual this week — ton of time with the Tweedys and Morbzahatchee (as one user hilariously dubbed the couple of Kevin Morby and Waxahatchee during one of the four appearances I caught with them this week), along with some new faces to keep things interesting (Lumineers, Glen Hansard, Head and the Heart).  There were more “virtual festivals” this week for some reason, some good (the mini-dancefest that had David Guetta spinning from an empty rooftop in Miami, shouting in his Fronch accent to everyone standing on the overlooking balconies, “I CON SEE EENSIDE YO APAHHHTMENTS!!!” over and over again), some lousy (the overblown cheeseball that was One World).

Some of the best, somewhat surprisingly, were the weed day festivities (aka 4/20).  Early in the day I caught a smoking set from old school favorites Cypress Hill, which honestly might’ve been the best thing I caught this week.  (It ran into a video chat for work, but was so good I didn’t want to turn it off, so probably looked I was really into what was being discussed, nodding my head vigorously for the first 15 minutes of the meeting).  Then later on the legendary Willie Nelson put on his annual tokefest, which had a bunch of great performances — from regular Sunbeams like Shakey Graves, Nathaniel Rateliff, and Morby, as well as unexpected sources like Kacey Musgraves, Langhorne Slim, and Jeff Bridges. (That’s right — the Dude, y’all!)  Amidst it all, Willie and his sons did a bunch of songs, too.  Unsurprisingly for a gathering of avowed potheads, this was a SUPER chill affair — everyone was in a great mood, warm and happy, just joking around and playing music for several hours.  (Four hours and twenty minutes, to be exact.) It was fantastic — the perfect setting to relax in for a while during these unsettling times.

I’ve been spending a lot of time with Willie lately, going back through his albums from the late 60s and early 70s and relaxing (Good Times, The Party’s Over, Texas in my Soul, and Red Headed Stranger being a few of many faves).  He’s got a great voice and the mood he conjures on these is really peaceful — perfect for lazily sauntering across the prairie on your steed or floating down the river in your makeshift raft (or sitting with a Frenchie on your lap while you work on the patio — whichever’s applicable…) One of the songs from the early years was “Hello Walls,” which takes on a new light thanks to recent times (hence why it is one of many on the fabled quarantunes playlist).  Willie and his sons actually went on Colbert to do a nice three-piece version of it this week, which you can watch below — and check out the full four hour festival here when you’re done.

The other thing that soaked up a bunch of time this week was the surprise release by LA punks X who dropped their first new album in 27 years (and their first with the original lineup in THIRTY FIVE!), Alphabetland.  I knew they’d been working on new material, but hadn’t heard much since I wrote about them last October when they put out the first single.  Seems like they’ve been hard at work, though, and rather than wait until later this year to release the album, they decided to do it this week thanks to coronavirus. (Frontman John Doe said, “Let’s give people…something that is upbeat. Something that is new and vital.”)

They certainly nailed those goals — at just under thirty minutes long, its ten songs breeze by like cars speeding down the highway. (Closer “All the Time in the World” is more a spoken word piece.) It’s pretty dang good — I’ve burned through it several times since its surprise appearance Wednesday, and it gets you moving every time.  Aside from the lead single an early fave is this one, “Cyrano deBerger’s Back,” which also happens to date back to the time of the band’s debut (the classic Los Angeles, which turns 40 this weekend).

Similar to that one, they used to play this in rehearsal from time to time, but for whatever reason never put it down officially in the studio until now.  It’s a pretty great tune — a jaunty, buoyant riff from Billy Zoom, sturdy, driving beat from DJ Bonebrake, and the classic harmonized tension between Exene and Doe.  By the time the horns come in on the chorus you should already be boogieing.  Check it out here (and stream/buy the entire album on their Bandcamp page):

In keeping with the post’s theme of pleasant surprises, we’ll close with this one, the latest single from Bright Eyes’ impending reunion.  Their getting back together isn’t the surprise here (he announced that last month with the first single), but rather who’s playing with him this time.  I’m not sure how it happened (call it coronavirus-induced mania?) or if you could pick two more random additions to pair with Oberst and his indie sound (Post Malone and Lemmy? Katie Perry and Andrea Bocelli?), but these come pretty close — he’s got Flea from the Chili Peppers on bass, and the thunderous Jon Theodore from Queens on drums here.

Rather than sounding like some hard funk band, though, things sound largely the same.  (It’s unclear whether his bandmates are also playing or standing on the perimeter of the studio semi-mystified thinking, “What the fuck is going on right now?!”) It’s another pretty song (and another instant addition to the quarantunes list), which has me excited to hear the rest of the album soon.  Check out “Forced Convalescence” while we wait (and endure the same):

Stay safe, amici… –BS

 

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Porch Pandemonium: Life During Lockdown

As the weeks start to slowly blend together, with each day a slightly fuzzier echo of the last, I thought it was important to differentiate “this is a weekday where you stay at home and sit around with the dog on your lap” from “this is a weekEND where you do the exact same thing.”  Since one of the minor differences between the two is stopping in here to recap the blur that just went by, here I am. (Honestly, part of me wishes there were badges or something we got for the various milestones we pass — “That’s five weeks of isolation — great job!” or “Congratulations, you put on pants today!” — sort of like AA chips, without the 12-step process and disease.)

Unsurprisingly, this week was very similar to the last — sitting on the porch crushing COVID with the Rizz, listening to a flurry of livestreams while banging away at the laptop.  Aside from recurring highlights from the nightly Tweedy or weekly Waxahatchee/Morby shows, got to hear some decent one offs this week — Pete Yorn, Pedro the Lion, and a BUNCH of John Prine tributes, the two best ones of which were from NPR and Consequence of Sound.  The former had five “tiny desk” style tributes (the best of which was Nathaniel Rateliff’s, second from the last), while the latter had over a dozen artists in their aptly named “Angel from Maywood” concert. (FWIW, Waxahatchee and Morby did a non-Prine “tiny desk” set from their house, which was also pretty great.)

Everyone from Kevin Morby and Conor Meloy from the Decemberists to Norah Jones and Grace Potter showed up to pay tribute.  You can still catch most of the performances on Consequence’s Instagram page — just click the IGTV link and you’ll see the majority of em.  They were all pretty good, but I thought the ones from The Lowest Pair, Sara and Sean Watkins, Whoa Dakota, and Sammy Brue were particularly good.  (Sadly, the one from Head and the Heart is missing, which was one of the best.)  And if that isn’t enough of the Singin’ Mailman you can also watch Prine’s 2018 Austin City Limits concert here, which was his first time on the show in 13-odd years. (Note — you can actually catch any episode from the past three years now by streaming for free on PBS’ site, along with select shows from the archives from folks like BB King and others!)

In the midst of all the tributes and tunes, I also got to do a little reading with some recent album anniversaries showing up in the feeds that are worth sharing.  The first of those is the writeup of Toots and the Maytals’ 1975 debut from Pitchfork, which regularly goes back and reviews old albums to highlight classics from the past.  The article does a good job giving the history of the band, highlighting how Toots’ country upbringing gave the band a unique sound and showing where they fit in with better known reggae legends like the ubiquitous Bob Marley. It’s a good read — I remember discovering Toots by accident when I was driving around the Irish countryside in a beat-up old bus 20 years ago.  It was a week-long trip around the entire country and in addition to listening to regionally appropriate bands like U2 (which remains one of my favorite memories — it made the early albums resonate even more, like they were taking power from their home terrain) the driver kept putting on tapes for this throaty, raw sounding reggae band, which was as alien to those surroundings as a leprechaun in Kingston.

I remember immediately loving it, jarringly out of context or not.  There was a cover of the old classic “Louie, Louie,” the John Denver song “Country Road,” and what I previously had thought was an original Sublime song (and one of my favorites, at that), “54-46 (Was My Number).” Similar to the U2, there was an urgency to his voice that was inescapable. I asked the driver who it was and he responded with his thick Irish accent, “TOOTSindaMAAAAAAAYtils.” “Toots in the metals? Two is in the middles?  I don’t understand.” To which he exasperatedly ejected the tape and tossed it back to me and I finally understood.  These guys remain my favorite reggae band — sure, I like everyone on the planet adore Marley and also enjoy rougher, angrier fare like Peter Tosh, but there’s something about Toots that just sets him apart.  Maybe it’s how I found him on that magic trip around the emerald isle or that connection to Sublime, whose debut album we used to listen to on a daily basis back in college. Either way, he’s great and this album was the breakthrough — pop it on while you read the article, or listen to that beloved song of his time in prison, which Bradley and the boys later gave a punky remake.

Next up on the reading rainbow comes another album from the time of my Toots discovery, the Smashing Pumpkins’ MACHINA, which turned 20 this month.  The Stereogum article does a good job setting this album into the band’s overall output, starting with a hilarious anecdote about frontman Billy Corgan being a characteristically self-important pissant and getting into a “fight” with Soundgarden that he moped about and made into a big deal the next day. The story highlights one of the ongoing difficulties with loving this band — Billy and his monomaniacal egotism (and now batshit crazy conspiracy theories).  At their best the band is amazing — aside from Siamese Dream and Mellon Collie, which are unassailable classics, I also loved Adore and a bunch of their other stuff, including this one — at their worst they are a self-important, overly bombastic trainwreck, almost all of which starts and stops with Billy himself.  (When we saw them a year or so ago on tour, Billy legitimately had a giant Catholic-style idol of himself carried through the crowd.)

Which brings us back to this album — not counting the companion piece MACHINA II that was released/leaked shortly thereafter, this is the last time the band I loved did anything worth listening to.  It was the last time the two sides of their sound were (mostly) in balance — the thundering drums and roaring guitars, which were undeniable once they got going (Jimmy Chamberlin, alongside Dave Grohl, is one of the best drummers of his generation), counterbalanced by the shy, stark sweetness of Billy’s lyrics and melodies. Subsequent albums like Zeitgeist, Oceania, and the album/non-album Shiny and Oh So Bright seemed to believe that the reason legions of people loved the Pumpkins were because they RAWWWWKED SOOOOOO HARRRRRRRD (and/or thought Billy’s lyrics about fairies and other rambling bullshit in the “epic” ten-odd minute tracks were the draw).  As a result, we got albums full of sludgy, overly loud songs with next to no heart. They were the equivalent of WWE wrestlers, puffed up meatheads beating you over the head with folding chairs (not as odd an analogy as you may think for Corgan).

On MACHINA, though, there was still relative harmony between those sides.  Sure, the edges were starting to fray and in retrospect you could see the disappointing path that would lead to those subsequent albums, thanks to Corgan’s fundamental misunderstanding of what made his band great, but for the most part things held together one last time. This was one of two new albums I listened to on almost endless repeat when I was living abroad, aside from my compilations of older material (this being the early internet days I was still operating off a Discman with a small binder of mix CDs, since space was of a premium) and it, along with the Counting Crows’ This Desert Life, were my tether to home, helping me beat back the intermittent blues and pass the hours between class/work/travel.  Both those albums immediately transport me to that remodeled janitor’s closet I was living in at the time — it was legitimately three arms’ lengths wide and as long as a twin bed (the building unsurprisingly ended up being condemned shortly after I moved out) — and both still hold up today.  This one was always one of my favorites — give it a ride while you read:

Last up is another anniversary article from Stereogum, this one on the Hives’ Veni Vidi Vicious turning 20 this month.  I didn’t discover these guys until I got home from that trip, as the Strokes and all the bands that came in their wake started exploding later that year.  As Lizzy Goodman details in her fabulous Meet me in the Bathroom (which I wrote about here), they came in waves — first the Strokes, Interpol, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, LCD, and the Walkmen, then bands like the National, Grizzly Bear, Vampire Weekend, Kings of Leon, the Vines, and more.

The Hives broke as part of that second wave, but as the Stereogum article relays the album that would eventually catapult them into the limelight came out before all those first wave albums (including Is This It?)!  It highlights some of the fickleness behind who makes it (and when) and who doesn’t, especially in the pre-internet age with its much more limited opportunities for exposure.  I remember the first time I heard “Hate to Say I Told You So,” with its undeniable hook and limitless energy — by the time you get to the bass breakdown (a sighting more rare than that Jamaican Irishman) you were ready to Kool-aid through the walls of your dorm room.  Thankfully these guys eventually cracked through and have mostly kept up the high level of quality they established on Veni.  They also remain one of the best live bands around, so if you’re looking for a way to get pumped during the pandemic, check out this breathless, blistering set from 2004, which was so good they made it a DVD.  Enjoy the Tussles in Brussels here:

We’ll pull ourselves off Memory Lane for a couple new additions I caught floating by this week — first comes the latest single from beloved Built to Spill’s upcoming album, a covers album of Daniel Johnston songs.  (Creatively titled Built to Spill plays the songs of Daniel Johnston, due June 12.) It initially seemed an odd choice for a band known for its guitar heroics, but upon hearing their version of songs like “Life in Vain” and this one, “Mountaintop,” you see how seamlessly it fits with the bands sweeter, melodic side. Excited to hear the rest of the album — enjoy this little slice of heaven here while we wait:

Next comes the latest from indie Super Friends outing Muzz, which sports former Walkmen drummer Matt Barrick, along with Interpol frontman Paul Banks and indie hopscotcher Josh Kaufman (he’s played with Bonny Light Horseman, the National, Craig Finn, etc). Since releasing their first single (the excellent “Bad Feeling”) the guys have announced a full album (Muzz, due June 5) and released another track from it.  Similar to their previous release, this one finds the trio hanging back a bit, riding a languid vibe in lieu of some of their former outfits’ more raucous affairs.  It works well — we’ll see how the rest of the album sounds soon.  In the meantime enjoy “Red Western Sky” here:

Next comes the latest from Magnetic Fields, back for the second time this month with a new track from their latest concept album, Quickies. As noted two weeks ago, the album will have 28 songs, each less than three minutes long, and will be out May 15. This one is classic Mags, showcasing Stephin Merritt’s singular style — part showtunes, part satire — this one’s lyrics are at turns hilarious and sweet, just like the band at their best. Enjoy “I Want to Join a Biker Gang” here:

Up next comes the latest from Will Toledo’s Car Seat Headrest, whose upcoming album Making a Door Less Open comes out in a couple weeks (due May 1).  The first two singles “Can’t Cool me Down” and “Martin” were both really good tunes, and the latest, “Hollywood” is no different.  It’s a scathing ode to the titular town and it’s unclear who the guest vocalist is, but their rap-like cadence counters Toledo’s sleepy drawl well.  Getting excited to hear the rest of the album — sounds like a hopeful rebound to 2016’s excellent Teens of Denial. We’ll see in a few short weeks — in the interim enjoy “Hollywood” here:

We’ll close with a couple tracks from Gorillaz, former Blur frontman Damon Albarn’s hit or miss cartoon collective, which he recently revived as part of his Song Machine project.  As I wrote about before, he plans to release a series of “episodes” over the course of the year, with each episode detailing the fruits of a new collaboration. The last one with rapper slowthai was pretty good, as are the most recent ones — “Desole,” a breezy jaunt through the Caribbean with African vocalist Fatoumata Diawara, and “Aries,” a cool drive through 80s nostalgia with New Order bassist Peter Hook.  Three for three has me more enthusiastic about what’s to come than Albarn’s recent work would normally have me.  Let’s hope he keeps up the hot streak in the coming months!

Until next time, my friends… –BS

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Songs for the Dead — The Drawing of Three

On this week’s edition of Home School Hibernation we find our fabled author doing much the same as before — passing the days logging hard-earned miles on the hunkered down highway with his snoring, farting sidekick asleep on his lap, taking the occasional break to work from his now award-winning toaster oven standing desk instead of the porch or couch, while streaming one of the many daily concerts put out there by similarly shutdown artists.  There’s been solid one-off mini-sets from Hamilton Leithauser and Waxahatchee this week, along with more recurring highlights like the nightly Tweedy Show (which is basically just the Wilco frontman hanging out in his living room while he and his sons crack jokes and sing songs — a space that’s every bit as calm and enjoyable to lounge in as that sounds) or the weekly Thursday night stream from Waxahatchee and Kevin Morby (which finds the couple doing duets, solo tunes, and a bunch of covers).  It’s been a welcome reprieve from what’s otherwise been a really bad news week — aside from the usual corona-related news, which saw us somehow DOUBLE the global death toll in THREE DAYS (?!?!?) while also adding 600,000 confirmed cases in the same time span (stats that are as alarming as how little fanfare they generated in the news), we also lost three music legends — Kenny Rogers, Bill Withers, and John Prine.

Each of these men had a slew of iconic songs — songs almost everyone knows, whether you love them or not — Rogers had “Lady,” “We Got Tonight,” “Islands in the Stream,” and the titanic “The Gambler,” among others.  Withers had “Just the Two of Us,” “Ain’t No Sunshine,” “Lovely Day,” and “Lean on Me,” just to get started. Prine is the lesser known of the three — at least to the general public — but he’s got both a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Grammys and membership in the Songwriters Hall of Fame for tunes like “Illegal Smile,” “Far From Me,” “Spanish Pipedream,” and “Sam Stone.” Perhaps that underdog, everyman status is why so many artists recorded tributes for Prine this week, instead of for Rogers and Withers — he belonged to them, whereas the latter two belonged to everyone.

Rolling Stone had a really good obituary/retrospective on him that’s worth a read — he used to be a mailman in the town my old man was born in, which is wild — but pop on these tributes while you do.  There were three that were quite good, two coming from our aforementioned recurring delights.  The first of those is Kevin Morby singing Prine’s classic “Angel From Montgomery” on last week’s stream (they reprised it as a duet this week after he passed), while the second is Tweedy singing “Please Don’t Bury Me” on his nightly show.  The third is probably the most poignant — Dave Matthews singing “Speed of the Sound of Loneliness” on Colbert, which he gives a mournful, melancholic tone missing from the original.  It’s quite lovely and all three give folks a reason to pay more attention to Prine — his solid storytelling and straightforward, sometimes funny lyrics almost glide by unnoticed with his simple, nonchalant delivery.  May he, Rogers, and Withers all rest in peace.

Three other isolation-related items before leaving our living rooms — first, another highlight from last week’s Thursday night stream was Waxahatchee covering Emmylou Harris’ “Where Will I Be.”  Crutchfield is an Alabama native and she tends to like doing country covers in her shows/streams, so this one’s right in her wheelhouse.  She does it justice, with just a beautiful rendition of the song — give it a listen here (and tune in to them Thursdays — it’s pretty endearing to see such talented individuals interacting just as a couple hanging out, bantering while singing a bunch of great songs, so check em here at 9PM EST):

Next comes a somewhat surprising acoustic offering from PUP frontman Stefan Babcock and the new song “Waiting for Something to Happen.” He and his band of Canadian punks aren’t known for quieter fare (his amped up wail is one of their signatures), so this is an interesting departure.  It’s even got a French horn, for chrissakes?!  It’s a good tune, though — will be curious to see if he shows more of this side in the coming months.  Give it a listen here:

Lastly we’ll close with another plug for the monster quarantunes playlist I wrote about a couple posts ago. Since that time I’ve added another 40 hours’ worth of songs, going waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay further down the rabbit hole than I initially expected, but once you get started it’s kind of a fun little game. (Besides, what the hell else do I have to do with my time?) It’s now over 100 hours and counting, so PLENTY of stuff in there for you to listen to.  I’ve had it on all week while I work and only occasionally get a repeat, so think you should be fine for a good long while.  It’s pretty fun, if I do say so myself — give it a shot if you haven’t already here.

We’ll delve out into the big, bad world now for a few new songs, carefully trying to avoid The Invisible Enemy… (cue scary music and reverb, but DON’T necessarily put on a mask when you go — I mean you can if you want to, but I’m not going to. Sincerely, POTUS.) First comes a song from Kills frontwoman Alison Mosshart who for the first time is having a go as a solo artist.  It’s a slow burning song about recovering from a breakup — not too different sonically from her work with the Kills and Dead Weather — but works just as nicely as a little pandemic anthem. Listen to “Rise” here:

Next comes a little musical version of a home and home series (aw, remember when we had sports? Sniff…) between unexpected opponents — in this case indie band Rogue Wave and underground rap fave Aesop Rock.  A few months ago the latter put out a song with the name of the former — it wasn’t about the band, just a coincidental use of the phrase — but it caught the band’s attention and they decided to respond in kind, releasing a song in Aesop’s name this week.  It similarly is not about the rapper (best I can tell it’s sorta about the fables?), but it’s got a nice little guitar riff and melody.  Give “Aesop Rock” a ride here:

For his part Aesop was busy this week, too, releasing a soundtrack for a video game he did for a friend.  It’s mostly instrumentals, but a couple songs have him dropping verses, the best of which is this one, “Drums on the Wheel.”  Also not sure what this one’s about (something about a pilot in space talking to Major Cigar?), but who the hell cares — it’s a video game. It’s got a good beat and Aesop’s signature flow, that’s all I need.  See what you think here:

We’ll close with a little warmth, from the voice of Nathaniel and the heart of the Hunts, two frequent visitors to the list. For the former Rateliff released a pair of outtakes from his bigger band, the Night Sweats, this week, an instrumental along with this one, whose title earned it immediate entry to the aforementioned playlist.  It’s a statelier affair than the band’s more high energy offerings, which is nice in this climate — I can’t afford to get too excited, that might invite The Invisible Enemy in (no one’s quite sure how he attacks…) — so pour yourself a tall glass of somethin’ tasty and enjoy this one:

Last comes the latest from the brothers and sisters in the Hunts, back with yet another unabashedly earnest song about love. These kids write such pretty, heartfelt songs with such knee-buckling harmonies, it’s really quite remarkable.  They feel like such anomalies — both in the pre-pandemic music scene and the wider world — because of their lyrics, their optimism, and their pure prettiness.  I’m constantly amazed they haven’t had that beaten out of them yet, but every song like this reminds me I’m very thankful they haven’t.  Just close your eyes, pop this on, and picture what life would be like if it was this blissful and serene:

Stay safe out there… –BS

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Shinburns and Streams: Life During the Pandemic

One of the unexpected upsides of the world shutting down has been the absolute avalanche of artists doing live-streamed shows and posting new material online.  Aside from Death Cab’s Ben Gibbard, who recently wrapped his series of daily shows that we highlighted two weeks ago, it seems like everyone’s getting into the game as folks realize these stay-at-home orders are unlikely to end anytime soon. (And that folks are going to lose their goddamned minds without music or something positive to look forward to each day as this stretches on.) Just this week alone I caught performances from Jeff Tweedy (who’s doing super low-fi nightly “shows,” just hanging out with his family), two solid sets by Rick from Pile, a solo show by Dave Matthews, a mini-set from John Fogerty, and another hour from Gibbard (he’s since transitioned to weekly shows).

It’s not a perfect system — there were almost as many misses as technical glitches prevented me from catching shows by Hamilton Leithauser, Waxahatchee, and Kevin Morby, while several other shows popped up with such little notice they were over by the time I got the alert — but I feel like things will sort themselves out over time as folks figure out how to harness the technology. (At least posting the shows to YouTube so people can see them after the fact in case streams dropped or timezones prevented them from watching in the first place.) I’ve gotten into the rhythm of checking Songkick’s list of live streams each morning to see what’s on tap and then popping in to Bandsintown to see what they might’ve caught that Songkick missed. And then there’s all the stuff folks are posting on Instagram that’s the equivalent of throwing glitter out the window on a blustery day. (Honestly — fuck the ‘gram.)

Here are a couple highlights to get you started — first, there’s this performance from Wilco just before the globe closed down, shot in one of the prettier parts of our beloved city by the lake, the Chicago Athletic Association (home to Cindy’s lovely rooftop bar, one of many spots on my recommendation list). Great building, great band, great city (correction — the GREATEST city #GPOE!) — give it a listen here:

Then there was this performance by Tweedy and his sons from their bathtub for Kimmel, doing a lovely little version of “Evergreen” from last year’s solo album Warmer. Three things this video and Tweedy’s nightly shows remind you of — 1) his son Sammy looks just like him (it’s uncanny), 2) Tweedy’s complete lack of bombast or ego — as well as his subtle, sharp sense of humor — are really refreshing (he’s constantly in pajama pants and/or a robe, looking more like a disheveled asylum patient rather than a rock star), and 3) he really seems like someone you’d want to hang around with. (Or at least I do — him, Nick Offerman, Dave Grohl, and Josh Homme — two sets of respective friends.  I could be the bridge between the two tandems — let’s make this happen, guys.) Enjoy this taste of what the nightly shows bring:

As I mentioned above, Waxahatchee has been doing several live streams lately, most of which have sadly not been posted online yet.  Thankfully this snippet from one of her recent sets on SiriusXM (which is streaming free now thanks to the apocalypse) made its way to YouTube.  She’s covering the recent Caroline Polachek song “So Hot You’re Hurting my Feelings” (which is an absolutely amazing title, BTW) and makes the song shine in a way the original never did for me.  Give it a listen here:

Before we go there were a couple new releases to note, too — recent Australian fave Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever continue their hot streak, dropping the second single from their upcoming album, Sideways to New Italy (due out June 5). This one’s more of the same (not in a bad way) — triple guitar attack, solid melodies, and a brightness that’s much in demand these days. Looking forward to the new album — enjoy “She’s There” in the meantime:

Next comes a little ditty from hit or miss faves the Magnetic Fields whose songwriter and snarky soul Stephin Merritt subscribes to the Bob Pollard school of songwriting, releasing more than most can keep up with (and more than most would advise, arguing for the quality over quantity side of the ledger). Similar to Dr Bob, Merritt loves thematic, concept albums — the band’s last project was 50 Song Memoir with one song for/from each year of Merritt’s life, while they’ve previously done an album full of songs starting with the word “I” (the aptly named i) and the beloved 69 Love Songs, whose concept is in the title. And while the quality of these albums, as well as Merritt’s myriad side projects, varies as much as Pollard’s, both have written some absolute gems in the midst of the “meh” — more than most bands could dream of in their entire careers, in fact. (GBV, as my eight faithful readers know, are a constant, beloved presence here, and the Mags are a similarly loved quantity for their beautiful, heartwarming songs — I got married to one of em, after all.)

The latest concept is short songs — the new album will have 28 songs, each less than three minutes long.  (Quickies is due out May 15.) We’ll see how it goes — the first single didn’t do it for me, but something about the sweetly sincere coda of “will we ever dance again?” resonated.  Check out “Kraftwerk in a Blackout” here:

We’ll close with one more song whose content feels in line with our current state — former REM frontman Michael Stipe released an unfinished demo this week of work he’s doing with National guitarist Aaron Dessner.  It’s a pretty song, as you’d expect for something with Dessner’s fingerprints, and the lyrics really hit home in light of recent days. The title tells the tale — “No Time for Love Like Now.”  Amen.  Give it a listen here:

Until next time — stay home, stay safe, amici… — BS

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A Massive Dose of Sunshine: Quarantunes

As the corona pandemic continues its slow burn across the planet and state after state here shuts down, I thought I’d jump in to help the inversely proportional number of inhabitants who seem to be grappling with a growing mix of anxiety, stress, and stir craziness (fueled nicely by a hearty helping of booze).  Acknowledging first-hand how important both structure and variety are after only two weeks of locked down, work from home life (you can only binge watch so many shows before even your back fat and muffin top start to feel lazy, after all), I thought I’d offer a little bit of both with my quarantunes playlist.

A couple of rules behind what this is and is not — 1) it IS a giant mix of songs (over 60 hours’ worth!) that relate to the pandemic in some form or fashion (at least to my crazy brain).  There’s songs about illness and how you might feel, songs about being stuck at home and slowly going nuts, even songs about drugs and other ways to pass the time.  2) Each of these connections to the pandemic and its myriad effects come ONLY from the song titles.  While it was tempting to include lyrics referencing these things (“hands, touching hands, reaching out, touching me, touching yoooooooouuuuuuuuuu!” for example, from “Sweet Caroline” or “Abra-abra-cadabra — I wanna reach out and grab ya” from Steve Miller Band) or to go off band names that do the same (ie The Airborne Toxic Event or the Argentine band Virus, say) I had to set some rules for this little game, otherwise I’d never come out of the rabbit hole.  (And even with these rules I still spent the better part of my Saturday rifling through songs.)

Two additional caveats — 3) the songs ONLY come from my personal catalog (instead of anything available on the interwebs) and 4) the songs MUST be ones I like enough to play without skipping.  So while the latter caveat is somewhat implicit in the former — if I felt strongly enough to pay money for these songs, I must like them a little — but even in that down-sized population there are some things I’d rather not be reminded of (I’ve seen some of the clothes you buy — a blazer with colored elbow patches, eh? — we’ve all got our demons…) As a result I didn’t want to just pick songs whose titles worked, but I didn’t actually want to listen to.  And therefore what you have before you is the fruits of all this winnowing — a playlist that spans genres and runs the gamut of topics tied to our collective isolation.  Some of the bands you’ll recognize from posts over the years, some even I was surprised to find in the crates.  I think it’s a fun mix, though — some connections are literal and obvious, others a little more subtle or silly — hopefully you’ll enjoy ’em either way.

I’ll keep adding to it as the days go by — I’ve had to stop at least six times while I was typing this as another song or theme popped into my head — so keep it on shuffle and see what shows up.  Gimme a shout if there are any you think I should add — or shoot me your own playlist and we can highlight your creativity/chops here!  Enjoy mine in the meantime:

Before we go, there were a couple new releases this week that were also worth flagging — first comes the latest single from the UK-based Squid, a five-piece from Brighton who mix some solid, jangly guitar riffs with a punkish energy that goes down nicely.  Frontman/drummer (be still, my beating heart…) Ollie Judge has a half-howl delivery reminiscent of LCD Soundsystem’s James Murphy and the rest of the band (guitarists Louis Borlase and Anton Pearson, bassist Laurie Nankivell, and keyboardist Arthur Leadbetter) conjure a comparably propulsive, almost danceable groove as Murphy’s former outfit.  (For all these reasons Squid also calls to mind recent fave Silverbacks, who showed up a few posts ago.) This is hopefully the sign of more to come with a full-length shortly in tow — in the meantime enjoy “Sludge” here:

Second, Conor Oberst recently announced he was reuniting his former band, Bright Eyes, having spent recent years on a series of side projects (including most recently with Phoebe Bridgers as Better Oblivion Community Center).  This week they released the first single from the upcoming album, their first new music in nine years.  (No title or release date on the album yet.) It’s in line with the rest of the band’s output, which is a welcome return after all this time — it also sports bagpipes, which aside from toilet paper might be the single thing we need most these days, whether we knew it or not. Check out “Persona Non Grata” here:

Next up comes the latest from Car Seat Headrest and the second single from their upcoming album Making a Door Less Open (due May 1).  Thankfully frontman Will Toledo appears to no longer be re-recording old material (as he did most recently for 2018’s Twin Fantasy), opting to give us products from his recent history.  Similar to first single “Can’t Cool Me Down,” this one balances electronic elements with Toledo’s customary guitar, and it works quite well. Toledo’s sleepy croon remains a magnetic draw and he’s still got an ear for a winning hook.  (As well as unique accompaniments — this one’s got a trumpet break at the end, so between the bagpipes and this one we’re really letting the unsung band camp heroes shine this week.) Let’s hope the rest of the album lives up to these first two — check out “Martin” while we wait:

We’ll close with a one-two wallop from much-loved Run the Jewels who dropped a pair of singles off their upcoming album on us this week (the aptly named Run the Jewels 4 — no release date set yet.) The first, “Yankee and the Brave,” is a straight ahead banger — just Mike and El just trading verses over a big, booming beat and bleating siren — while the second (“Ooh, La La”) is a touch smoother, riding along on a beat and line from Gang Starr. (That outfit’s legendary DJ Premier supplies the beat, while it also yanks a line from their song “DWYCK” by Greg Nice of Nice & Smooth fame.) Both are great reminders why this tandem is so irresistible — nimble verses, rock solid beats, and buckets of energy (particularly when you see em live).  Color me even more excited for the much-delayed album — I’ll be givin’ these a workout in the meantime.  You can do the same here (and check out the albums that made El, according to his interview with Pitchfork — some shared faves in there as well):

(PS — since we’re not allowed to travel anywhere, I added another location to the list on the right just so folks can vicariously enjoy/plan their first trip post-quarantine.  See Richmond’s entry in the “I’ve Been Everywhere, Man” section…)

Stay safe, amici… — BS

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Double Shot Saturday II — Worms, Wax, and a Death Cab of Corona

In the midst of the world continuing its orderly shutdown (my hometown Ill-staters joined the ranks yesterday) I celebrated a minor accomplishment this week — not only my first week as a regular civilian in nearly 14 years, but my first week as a fully connected, Hangouts holding, Sheets slinging member of the modern WFH population (that’s “work from home” for all you crusty old lobsters) — so thought it was worth popping in to share a little goodness.  As I wrestled with the strange feeling of being fully connected to the world and my devices throughout the day (instead of lurking in a dark, signals-free stovepipe for 10-12 hours a day), as well as how to professionally and productively participate in virtual meetings while a fur-covered cinderblock snored and farted on my lap (or otherwise hogged the camera), I found a couple good items to soundtrack the events that I thought were worth sharing.

First comes courtesy of Spotify’s weekly discovery playlist, which has been on a tear lately (so hats off to whatever beautiful nerds/minds created that algorithm) — last week it was Andy Shauf and his gang of punks, this week it’s fellow Chicagoan Max Clarke and his (yet again) terribly named band, Cut Worms. (Honestly — Spotify’s been on fire finding these bands for me, I just wish they could add a rename feature to their algorithm to fix ridiculousness like this.) The name is an homage to a line from a William Blake poem (“The cut worm forgives the plow…”), which I’m sure scores points down at the open mic night, but in terms of attracting the 99% of the population that doesn’t camp out in the basements of used book stores it’s about as inviting as a bowl of his titular entities.

Thankfully, you listen to music first and learn about it later — which in this case meant I was treated to Clarke’s time warp sound and lovely melodies first, hooked before I could get to the minor annoyance of his unmarketable moniker.  The sound is a throwback to the 50s/60s sound of the Everly Brothers, one so spot-on I initially thought I’d slipped into an oldies playlist. All bright harmonies and warm guitar, Clarke conjures an uncanny complement to those earlier times on his 2017 EP Alien Sunset and his full-length debut the following year, Hollow Ground. Both are really solid outings, blissful little rides down memory lane and the perfect palliative to these unsettling times. Check out lead single “Cash for Gold” for a blast of sock-hop sunshine and then head to “Life Going Down Sideways,” which sports an absolute knee-buckler of a melody — beautiful stuff.

We’ll close with the latest from a couple old friends, first from Death Cab frontman Ben Gibbard who’s been spending the shutdown in his native Seattle doing a series of daily concerts from his apartment.  It’s just him, an acoustic guitar, and occasional piano, singing a mix of Death Cab, solo songs, and covers for 45-60 minutes, which is every bit as pleasant as it sounds. (Aside from the frequent coughing fits, which seem to be a result of his possible exposure to coronavirus — thankfully he seems OK, though.) You can livestream them each day at 7PM EST or just catch em on YouTube, which is where I’ve been grabbing em. Check out the latest here:

Lastly we’ve got the latest from Katie Crutchfield, better known as Waxahatchee, whose new album Saint Cloud comes out next week, her first since 2017’s Out in the Storm. That one was characterized by a wall of electric guitar and Crutchfield’s new powerful spirit (equal parts independence and anger after years of heartbreak and quiet timidity). Early indications are this might be a more toned down version of that one, staying electric while harnessing some of the prettiness and melody of her earlier work.  The first few singles have been really good (I thought “Lilacs” was particularly nice) and the latest does nothing to break that trend. “Can’t Do Much” is an unabashed love song, one that sports a bit of a country vibe (similar to “Lilacs”) and bounces along on an unbridled pulse of energy (with a wicked little riff to boot).  It’s a great little listen — give it a spin here:

That’s it for now — stay safe out there, friends… — BS

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Double Shot Saturday — Andy and a Bunch of Punks

Phew — quite a week we just had there. As the wider world slowly started to shut down — professional sports, music festivals and concerts, marathons, movie theaters, and parades, travel to or from entire continents, etc — it was only fitting that I was concurrently closing up my current job, home to so many heartaches and frustrations over the years. (Nothing says “post-apocalyptic disaster” better than a career in the USG…) So for the first time in nearly a decade as a non-government stooge (and only the second time in nearly 15), I thought I would stop in as a regular human and highlight some new discoveries. (Maybe that’s what’s been holding the readership down all these years!)

There have been a bunch recently — most of the loud, punky variety thanks to my mood as I was winding down my service — but we’ll start with the soft one, a Saskatchewanian named Shauf.  Andy Shauf, to be exact, and I stumbled on him thanks to a recent recommendation list from Esquire.  I didn’t like anything else on said list, but was really happy to find this one.  Back with his fifth album overall, Shauf’s latest follows the model of his previous one and focuses all of the songs on a single theme — his last one was songs about one night at a party, told from the perspectives of the various attendees (aptly titled The Party), while this one centers around one night at a bar, the titular Neon Skyline.

It’s a simple concept, but one that works well as you bounce between the lives and eyes of the various individuals. Shauf’s narratives (and melodies) are at times reminiscent of Paul Simon’s, while others call to mind my beloved Elliott Smith.  Add to that Shauf’s thick Canadian accent (“I’m soary I’m from another port of the country,” instead of “sorry”/”part,” for one example) and his penchant for throwing in clarinet (he grew up playing the instrument, among many others, in his family’s Christian rock band) and you’ve got quite a charming, interesting mix.  It works well, though — both those albums are top to bottom winners, as are his earlier ones.  Warm, calming, and oh so pretty — exactly what we need to take the edge off weeks like the last.  Start with the Simon-y lead single “Neon Skyline” and see if you get similarly hooked, and then jump to the more Elliottesque “Alexander All Alone” from his last one:

For you fellow Dylan Thomas fans not quite ready to go quiet into the night, there’s a trio of brasher bands I came across to fuel your fury (or fever, if you’re infected with corona).  First comes one I got to too late, the defunct LA post-punk band Corners. I came across their debut (and unfortunately only) album, Maxed Out on Distractions, when its lead single “Against It” slipped into my Spotify feed.  It’s a great tune, all jangly guitars and nervous energy, and that got me to explore (and ultimately enjoy) the entire album.  Over the course of its too brief 30 minutes it calls to mind Joy Division moodiness and Rapture-like freneticism, which unsurprisingly makes for a great listen, so it was a real bummer to learn they broke up back in 2016. Seems like the four members grew apart over their two years of touring for the debut and wanted to focus on their solo projects instead of sticking with the band, so this is all we’ll be getting. (They somewhat strangely put out a four track EP last year with leftovers from that 2014 recording session, but nothing else seems forthcoming.) Thankfully we’ve at least got this — start with that first single, “Against It,” which is reminiscent of that Joy Division sound before jumping in “The Spaceship” and riding it to the Rapture:

Next comes another California punk band, this one hailing from the northern part of the state in San Francisco, and another throwback to that 70s sound, albeit more on the early side when The Clash and Sex Pistols were raining fire on everyone. Spiritual Cramp is the band, and while the name may be terrible, the music sure isn’t.  Mixing the aforementioned influences with more modern ones like the Hives, their debut album Television is a blast.  It puts their first two EPs alongside six new tracks (two of which are covers — one from the Pistols, the other from Billy Bragg, oddly enough) and there are a ton of winners in there.  “Television” and “I Feel Bad Bein’ Me” really bring out those Clash reggae elements and driving beat, while “Upset Stomach” and the eponymous “Spiritual Cramp” surface those Hives-ian elements. And then there’s lead single “The Erasure,” which is something else entirely (lead singer Michael Bingham’s mumbled vocals and the bouncing beat almost call to mind early Talking Heads).  It’s a winning mix — start with the lead single and then jump to the burning flame of the band’s name:

Last stop on the Discovery channel takes us to the Emerald Isle, which is fitting with St Patty’s Day right around the corner. The band is another crummily named one — Girl Band — but similar to the others, the quality of their craft is high.  These guys take elements of LCD Soundsystem (frontman Dara Kiely sounds a lot like James Murphy, while their best songs are eminently danceable) and smash them into the noise punk pieces of bands like METZ, which works really well.  The band has released two full lengths — 2015’s Holding Hands with Jamie and last year’s The Talkies — which are solid, if sometimes meandering affairs.  Their first EP, the aptly named The Early Years, though, perfectly captures their sound — fully focused, no fucking around, it’s buttressed by two monster tracks — “Lawman” and the techno cover “Why They Hide Their Bodies Under my Garage?”  Both of them sport infectious beats to draw you in, as well as minute-plus noise-filled freakouts to drive you away, before bringing you back home at the close.  They’re both irresistible, building to a frenzy that’s almost impossible to ignore — off-putting noise explosions or not. Kiely does nothing more in the latter track than hypnotically chant the song title with increasing intensity before unleashing in exhilarating fashion at the end — it’s fantastic. Check both of em out and see for yourself:

We’ll close back in familiar territory with a couple recent releases from some old friends — first comes Kevin Morby with a couple tracks from the recording sessions from his last album, Oh My God. (Which landed at #7 on last year’s list.) There’s nothing drastically different here — just the same winning formula that’s made him such a favored find the past few years — and there ain’t nothin’ wrong with THAT! Check out “Gift Horse” here:

Next comes the latest from Woods, fresh off their supporting role on David Berman’s outstanding Purple Mountains album last year (which landed at #2 on my list). It’s the first single from their upcoming album — Strange to Explain is due out in May — their first since their disappointing 2017 cheeseball, Love is Love. Thankfully this sounds like a return to their more normal fare — still a little folksy, but less overtly hippie dippy than that last one. Let’s hope for more of the same come May!  In the meantime, check out “Where do you go When you Dream?” here:

Up third comes the second single from former Walkmen frontman Hamilton Leithauser’s upcoming album.  Since we last checked in we’ve gotten a release date and title from Ham — The Loves of your Life will be out April 10 — and another song to enjoy. Seems like we’re going to be in for another lush, winning album based on the first two tracks.  Check out “Isabella” and relish Ham’s wondrous, timeless voice:

We’ll stick with Walkmen alum for this next one, too, and the intriguing new side project for that band’s former drummer, Matt Barrick.  Teaming with Interpol frontman Paul Banks and indie hopscotcher Josh Kaufman (he’s played with Bonny Light Horseman, the National, Craig Finn, etc), they’re calling themselves Muzz.  And while the name doesn’t necessarily make a ton of sense (short for muzzle? slang for a morphine buzz? nickname of their best friend Pete Remuzzi?) the music sure does.  Channeling the more languid, laid back vibe of his former band’s later days, Barrick and Co stretch out luxuriantly on the lead single “Bad Feeling.” There’s no word on a broader album yet, but I’m sure hoping one is coming — check out the appetizer here:

And we’ll close where we started, back in the midst of a tumultuous global crisis and at the end of a long, frustrating chapter in my professional life.  What better soundtrack than the newly reunited Rage for such fare? I’ve been listening to these guys a lot lately, thanks in part to the news of their upcoming tour (which, assuming the world doesn’t end I shall be attending), but particularly as I wrapped up my service to Uncle Sam and finally decided to leave.  The first time I tried this ten years ago I left feeling a lot more optimistic — I’d suffered less battle damage, was moving back to my favorite place on earth and planning to get married, and while disappointed the job didn’t work out, I didn’t feel as let down — it was more unfortunate than anything else.  My walkout song therefore mirrored those sentiments — the joyous climax of the Pumpkins’ “Rocket” perfectly captured that feeling of breaking free from what was holding you down and shooting off into the blissful expanse of the unknown.

This time, I’m a lot angrier.  I’ve got ten more years of incessant battling, ten more years of frustration, bitterness, and disappointment — and the resulting damage they’ve inflicted — coursing through my arteries. Ten more years of momentary highs and major letdowns clogging my brain. The analogy I’ve kept using is one of an abusive relationship — you still care about/love the person (or in this case, place), still feel like just maybe it’ll be better tomorrow, maybe it’ll be that thing you fell in love with and felt so fulfilled by again, that thing that formed such a large part of your persona and an even bigger part of your life.  If only they would stop ignoring you, or worse, beating the ever-loving shit out of you.  Over. And over. And over.

Just like those relationships, though, at some point you reach a point where you know that’s likely not going to happen.  Where you know you have to put yourself, your happiness, and your safety first.  Where you finally decide you no longer want to deal with that and walk away.  (And that in walking away you are not a quitter, or a pussy, or avoiding work because it’s hard, but have done everything you possibly could to salvage things and it still wasn’t enough — and that’s ok — because some things aren’t fixable, and some things aren’t yours to fix.)

Just like those relationships, everybody’s tolerance is going to differ and so, as a result, will their breaking point.  I reached mine this year — and then a hundred times over again — so knew it was time to go.  That chapter came to a close yesterday — with a final toast from the person I respect most from my time there — before playing this walkout song as I drove away from the building.  It aptly captures my current mood and comes courtesy of the aforementioned Rage — for as Zach sings with increasing intensity and anger, I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm no more…

Until next time, amici… (BTW, added another location to the travel pages on the right — Philly in tha house!)

–BS

 

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Reading Rainbow: Let it GBV

As my time in my current job winds down and I frantically try to figure out how folks in the regular world operate (what do you mean you don’t wear suits (or ties) — like at all? This isn’t just a Friday thing?), I had a chance to finish reading Matthew Cutter’s Closer You Are: The Story of Robert Pollard and Guided by Voices, which was a really solid history of one of my favorite bands. (As evidenced by their frequent appearance in blog posts, including most recently at #5 on last year’s annual recap.) It’s a nice complement to another GBV biography, that of James Greer’s Guided by Voices: A Brief History, and similarly takes you all the way back to the beginning, when Bob was teaching and the relentless band he would front for three decades was just an idea in his ever-fertile/fervent head.

Early on, the band didn’t really play anything.  In fact, the band didn’t really exist at all in the very beginning, it was just a concept that Bob had and made art to — fake album covers for bands he made up, complete with equally fictitious song titles.  He’d make dozens of these and store them away, a true creative outlet for a (then) conjured entity, but that latter reality wouldn’t stop Bob from talking about how he was in a band to anyone that would listen.  He was still teaching full time and increasingly unhappy with his day to day life, so it was almost like he was willing this fantasy into reality.  He started learning guitar and recording himself in what would become a long-running habit, capturing his limitless thoughts and impulses in their unvarnished glory — good, not so good, and sometimes (oh so many times) outstanding.

Eventually he did form a band of real humans — but they still didn’t really play much music.  The band, such as it was, was basically Bob and his brother, along with a couple of friends who’d get together and mess around in the basement (aka the Snakepit), bashing away at instruments in between drinking a ton of beer and playing basketball. That didn’t stop them from acting like a real band, though, including doing a bunch of photo ops with local magazines and press outlets, even though they were essentially a band in name only — they had no songs, they had no label, they barely knew how to play their instruments.  And yet “‘anytime Bob had a photo op, we were on it,’ [early manager Pete] Jamison says. Without anything close to a real band, nevertheless Bob, [his brother] Jimmy, and [guitarist] Mitch kept refining their rock image, taking part in all the activities a band would — aside from recording albums or playing shows. ‘We did photo sessions to make it feel like it was real. We were working on getting the look and the moves down,’ says Bob. He describes his policy at the time as: ‘You gotta look a little bit cool to be in my band that can’t play.'”

This hilarious fiction never seemed to be questioned and never seemed to cause them any issues, which is amazing in today’s world of total information and social media gossip.  I can only imagine what would happen to someone trying this today — I feel like the farce would be unearthed almost immediately and the perpetrators pilloried and ridiculed by the online trolls. Yet thankfully Dr Bob and crew emerged unscathed and eventually began recording actual songs and playing actual shows.  They recorded their first album, played a few gigs, seemed to be gaining some momentum — and then Bob suddenly dissolved the band in ’86.  “It would be more than seven years before the band played another show.”

Despite the breakup, Bob kept messing around with the band (an ever rotating thing, even then) in the pit in the years that followed, recording and experimenting, trying to sell their efforts when they could.  They’d hangout and drink (relentlessly), taking in various Dayton bands in their downtime and expressing their opinions in rather colorful ways. If the guys “didn’t like a band, they elevated heckling to a performance of its own. Clapping and cheering like they were at a football game after a band’s opening number. ‘Play one more, man! Just one more!’ They’d dance ironically, or make a show of holding their noses. Sometimes they brought individually wrapped slices of processed cheese to throw at the band — with just the right aim the cheese would go fwap! onto the frontman’s cheek and slide away in a smear of oil.”  Now, yes, this makes the guys sound kind of like dicks (which I’m sure they’d admit to if asked), but you gotta admire the creativity a little.  The thought of a bunch of big, working class dudes going to a dive bar with a pocket full of Kraft cheese slices is a laughably ridiculous image — one they apparently did a lot.

The book is filled with great details like that.  It explains that Bob, still teaching at the time, was (unsurprisingly) “the ‘cool teacher’… art festooned every wall, much of it his own collage work… Bob passed the non-instructional time by creating album covers at his desk and regaling the students with ghost stories… on playground duty, he would make up songs about what he saw, or aliens or elves,” giving us insight into why it’s seemingly so easy for him to create the vast array of characters and images in his lyrics. That Bob “always wanted to be the Beatles on record and the Who live (…and Cheap Trick backstage).”  (Aspirations I think they’ve largely lived up to, at least for the latter two.) That one of the band’s iconic songs, “I am a Tree,” was actually a cover from guitarist Doug Gillard’s band, Gem.

There’s also hilarious, random asides — there was the time when Bob and his brother were in the Snakepit playing/recording and they were interrupted by a bunch of local kids who were challenging them to a game of basketball. They apparently destroyed the boys and then went back to the basement to continue drinking/playing/recording while the kids slunk off to lick their wounds. There was the time(s) the band slept on the hood of their car and random alley couches, surrounded by beer bottles and other trash (much of which they generated), because they couldn’t get a hotel room and were too hammered to drive. They’d wake up the next morning somewhat befuddled by their surroundings, shrug, and get back on the road to play the next show.

Cutter does a great job capturing both the craziness of life on the road and the endless struggle the band has had to survive — whether the grind of all the performing, the endless amount of lineup changes and material, or the (still) indifference of many in the mainstream.  Eventually the band’s albums started catching on with the trendsetters in New York in the early 90s, which got the band to start playing live again, culminating with a now-legendary show at CBGB where the band wowed a packed house with an epic, sweaty set. The guys were off to the races after that — Lollapalooza, international tours, growing buzz for their albums, almost unvarnished status as indie legends — but for all the ballyhoo for the glory days and the original lineup, as Cutter writes, “it bears mentioning that the ‘classic lineup’ of Pollard, Sprout, Demos, Mitchell, and Fennell played together for roughly two and a half months, a mere seventeen shows, and — barring outtakes — on two released tracks as a band. But they created an updraft on which even a jumbo jet could glide.”

Bob and the boys have been riding that airstream for an additional two and a half decades and are currently in the midst of another “golden” era, having released an excellent string of albums over the past few years, earning themselves a spot on my year end list for the first time for their trio of excellent albums last year, as mentioned above.  They’ve got more in store for us this year (they just dropped Surrender Your Poppy Field, which I’m working through now) and I don’t think Bob will ever stop with his side projects — Cutter describes a whopping 17 distinct ones that Bob cycles between in the book, including his solo outings (!) — so will be great to see what comes down the pike.

Cutter’s description of the band’s sound midway through the book is one of the more fitting explanations for why I think they’ve earned such a passionate, devoted following — “Whereas Pavement’s lo-fi phase radiated an aura of whatever, Guided by Voices charged their lo-fi sound with all right! enthusiasm. The lyrics suggested multiple meanings, but didn’t insist on any; it was art that asked, What do you think? and invited the listener to meet it halfway.” That, coupled with the sheer variety, quantity, and quality of the music I think gives as good an insight into why so many people love this band (and why their live shows are such enjoyable, exultant affairs). A really solid read about a really solid band — well done, Mr Cutter…

Dr Bob’s mention of GBV’s Beatles inspiration reminds me I also had a chance to read another of the 33 1/3 series, this one on that band’s final album, Let It Be. Or at least I thought it was their final album — turns out while it was released after Abbey Road, well after the band had broken up, it was actually recorded right after The White Album — ten WEEKS after — and despite having filled that with over 30 songs, the band managed to run through and record an astonishing TWO HUNDRED songs in the seven days of recording here.  (Sure, there were a bunch of covers, but even accounting for that fact they still managed to record a dozen originals here, plus early versions of the songs that would fill up Yellow Submarine and Abbey Road the following year.)  That’s an impressive amount of production — almost GBV-like, one could say! — and an interesting backdrop to sessions that were otherwise notorious for being plagued with tension (several of the members were no longer speaking to each other).  It’s a sad epilogue to such an amazing band, and an album I’ve always felt was unfairly criticized. Aside from faves like “Two of Us” and “I Me Mine,” they also did versions of earlier songs like “Act Naturally” to get the blood flowing (which thanks to the surprisingly enjoyable Ken Burns Country Music documentary I learned was a cover of a big country hit by Johnny Russell.) I’ve been fixated on this one lately, so enjoy one of the seemingly infinite examples for why these guys were so great:

Lastly, we’ll close with a new feature, hiding over there in the right side of the page under the “I’ve Been Everywhere, Man…” title.  In addition to all my music suggestions, I’ve long kept a tally of places to go in various cities/countries I’ve visited that I like to share with folks so they gorge/enjoy themselves appropriately.  Since folks always ask and I always try to remember where the heck I stashed the text or email (or worse, handwritten nonsense), I figured I should embrace the power of technology and my beloved blog so it’s there for easy access. (Besides — I know NO one is keen on talking to me if they don’t have to. #knowthyself)

Unsurprisingly we’ll start with my favorite place on earth, my beloved city by the lake, and the ever-growing list of places I try to visit whenever I get back there.  It’s a mix of food, drink, and regular tourist items that I’ve battle tested over the years (and added to thanks to recommendations of folks I’ve given it to), so feel free to use it as justification/inspiration for scheduling a trip there yourself.  I’ll add additional cities over the coming weeks/months, but in the meantime soak up the glory of the greatest place on earth and get yourself on a plane as soon as humanly possible. (At least until coronavirus grounds all air flight and we’re forced to hunker in our basements until spring.)  I promise you won’t be let down…