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

I Predict a Riot (Fest)

I’ve had a week to process the bounty of delights experienced back home at Riot Fest and wanted to stop in and share (just in case I erase them in a few hours at the big beer festival).  I’d been excited about this weekend for months since barring one or two omissions, the lineup had most of my absolute favorite bands on it, so was super jacked to go see em all again in the city I love.  And despite being hot as fuck for September (which is not a good thing for a crowd of punks with an unrestrained love of black clothing and denim) the weekend somehow surpassed even my unrealistically high expectations.

There was the free show the night before the festival (with free beer to boot) to see my beloved Orwells, which was so good it got me in a pit for the first time in probably 15 years and left me soaked in sweat and beer (and happiness).  There was Black Pistol Fire’s furious early afternoon set that nearly blew out my hearing (and my insides) five feet from the stage.  There was the magic of Built to Spill playing their entire classic Keep it Like a Secret and lulling the crowd into a blissed out waking dream.

There were solid sets from old faves that reaffirmed your love (DFA, Gogol, At the Drive In) and better than expected sets from headliners that put caps on already excellent days (instead of being lame and driving you home early like normal festival headliners — NIN, Queens). There was the chance to see vintage acts that peaked before my time whose sets still captured the energy of their early years and made me go back and re-listen to their albums (X, Buzzcocks, GBH). There was the chance to see acts you’d never check out on their own, but you gladly did here (and you came away happy that you had — New Order, even the cartoonish gore of Gwar) and the new discoveries you happily stumble into that’ll generate some winter spins (That Dog., The Smith Street Band).

No discovery was more surprising or powerful than the third night’s headliner, though, Jawbreaker. There was a ton of noise about the festival getting this band back together, playing their first show in 20+ years after an apparently spectacular flameout, which had struck me as curious leading up to the show.  Both the amount of chatter and their getting such a prestigious slot — closing night of the festival with almost no other concurrent acts — seemed strange as I’d somehow never heard of them.   Despite being big in the east coast punk scene and even touring (briefly) with Nirvana, word of these guys never made it to my high school self, so I had no idea what I was missing.

Until Sunday night, that is.  When the big band that never was came onstage and blew away my ignorance with one of the many songs I’ve been obsessing over this week, “Boxcar.” It’s an irresistible little ripper (one so good Green Day basically rewrote it years later) and a great thumb in the eye of the punk purists who had turned their back on the band once they signed to a major label. (“You’re not punk, and I’m tellin’ everyone — save your breath man I never was one…1-2-3-4 who’s punk, what’s the score?”) And the band didn’t let up from there — other tracks instantly jumped out during the set: “The Boat Dreams From the Hill;” “Save Your Generation;” “Sluttering (May 4th);” “Accident Prone;” “Jet Black.”  Others were found on repeated listens throughout the week: “Want;” “Chesterfield King;” “Tour Song;” “Indictment;” “Fireman;” “Lurker II: Dark Son of Night.”  Each of which reinforce the question of “how the fuck had I never heard of these guys?!?”

Frontman Blake Schwarzenbach’s gravelly voice and snarky, lovesick lyrics call to mind early Replacements at times (a band that DID register with young Sunshine and consumed his middle school years), but the band’s rhythm section is what really stood out on Sunday.  Bassist Chris Bauermeister threw down some solid, nimble riffs, while drummer Adam Pfahler absolutely destroyed his fucking kit (literally) by the end of the set.  The band’s shifting time signatures, howling guitar, and bruising lyrics were an infectious counterpoint to the singalong choruses and I was instantly converted. I spent the better part of the week tearing through these guys’ albums in an attempt to make up for lost time and I’m enjoying the heck out of that fool’s errand.  Check em out yourself here, starting with the one that got me from the jump — “Boxcar.”