Tag: #fatherjohnmisty

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The Golden Age of Kings and Queens — Nine Nobles to Help Nullify the Nightmare

As those of you who’ve been coming here for a while know (all eight of you) one of my favorite annual pastimes is the scanning of various people’s/outlet’s year end lists to see what new discoveries I might find so I can add them to the arsenal. I always find something, and while this year’s been a bit disappointing so far (though I’ll note a fair number of mine have shown up on others’, giving the eight of you validation to keep returning here #allkillernofiller), I have managed to find one home run worth sharing — the Liverpool duo King Hannah, whose sophomore album Big Swimmer caught my ear and has captivated it ever since.

The band is a relatively new one, having just released their debut I’m Not Sorry, I Was Just Being Me three years ago, but they’ve followed that up with another batch of moody — and at times sexy — songs to pique your interest.  Comprised of singer Hannah Merrick and guitarist Craig Whittle, they wrote the album as they toured the US for their debut, capturing images from the road that resonated with them.  Merrick is our somewhat deadpan narrator throughout, singing about happily aimless afternoons in NY and half-lit Denny’s signs in El Paso or ominous undersides of a Philly bridge with almost the same amount of energy. That flat, cool sense of exhaustion could be off-putting over time, calling to mind buzz bands like Dry Cleaning with its similarities, but these guys have a lot more melody and mystery to keep you engaged.

Sonically they’re a bit of a chameleon, coming across as a mix of bands, including several favorites. The primary echo is for their fellow countrymen, the Bristol legends Portishead, but the duo also folds in elements of Austin’s Sun June and UK titans Radiohead, shifting effortlessly across the album’s 11 tracks. Songs like “Milk Boy (I Love You)” and “Somewhere Near El Paso” call to mind Portishead with their skittering beats and slight sense of menace. (The former has a hammer getting swung at a kid’s face, the latter an ominous admonition of “that was a baaaaaad deciiiiiisioooooooooon” before both erupt in flames.)  The soothing title track or the dreamy, blissed out shuffles of “Suddenly, Your Hand” and “This Wasn’t Intentional” sound more like Sun June, channeling that group’s more sedate sensuality and warmth. (The latter two positively drip with it and are so potent I think I missed my period.) And when Merrick cranks the anxiety up lyrically as she does on “Lily Pad” they remind me more of Radiohead. (She spits, “I think I’m going insane” before a ripsh#$ fireworks display at the end from Whittle makes the song explode.)

Whittle and his guitar are the band’s secret weapon, punctuating a number of songs with fiery little runs that are as unexpected as they are powerful, scorching your pleasure centers as he takes the songs into the stratosphere. Aside from the aforementioned outburst in “Lily Pad” there’s the taut flurry at the end of “New York, Let’s Do Nothing” or the smoldering run to close “The Mattress,” which provide additional examples. Time and again he drops in to hammer an exclamation point on an already solid sentence, making you immediately want to rewind and listen to it again.  His harmonies are also effective (albeit much more scarcely deployed), as shown on the back half track “Davey Says,” juxtaposing Merrick’s voice nicely and giving the song a warmth belied by the life or death lyrics. (Sharon Van Etten shows up on a couple tracks as well, serving the same purpose from the female side of the spectrum.)

They end on a sweet note, closing with the lovely “John Prine on the Radio,” which leaves behind the eerie vending machines and overarching sense of danger to paint a picture of domestic bliss, cooking at home with a loved one while listening to your favorite tunes. (In this case the late, great man from Maywood mentioned in the title — another echo of Sun June.) It’s a nice partner to the equally inviting opening track, bookending the sensual menace in between and allowing us to go out on a sunny note. I really enjoyed this one — give “Milk Boy” a try and see if you can resist:

 

To close out the first post of the new year we’ll do some cleanup from the last, clearing out some things that either have been sitting in my queue to talk about for a bit or come from albums that didn’t make the cut for my year end list, but still have a few things worth listening to. We’ll start with the latter and an album that came out right before the end of the year, yet still made a bunch of best of lists (including Joker’s), Father John Misty’s latest, Mahashmashana. 

His sixth overall, it’s his second in a row I found disappointing, unfortunately rendering him a 50/50 act at this point. (Two of his first three made my lists after discovering him a year or so after his debut, landing at #5 in both 2015 and 2018.) He’s still in his somewhat ridiculous showtune phase, opening with a rambling nearly 10 minute opener that while pretty, doesn’t seem to get anywhere important. The bulk of the album feels like that, like you’re driving around aimlessly in a limo — it’s luxurious, sure, but the driver’s a bit of a downer and you feel like you should get more for the cost. (There’s only eight songs on the album, most suffering some form of bloat.) Two of them are worth a listen, though, the twitchy, skronking howl of “She Cleans Up” and its moody, mellow follow-up, “Josh Tillman and the Accidental Dose.” Give both a listen here:

Another one that landed on a load of year end lists was MJ Lenderman’s fourth solo album, Manning Fireworks, and while I thought his contributions on Waxahatchee’s Tigers Blood were a revelation, providing the perfect counterpoint to her amazing voice (it landed at #2 on this year’s list), his solo stuff still leaves me cold. There’s still too much Kurt Vile to his voice and Pavement to his vibe when it isn’t blended (or rather, diluted) by others around him, be it his Wednesday bandmates or the aforementioned Ms Katie. That said, there were a pair of tunes that kept popping up as spillovers on the Spots that I ended up enjoying. The grungy, yet melodic lead single “She’s Leaving You” and the more stately “Joker Lips” (which would actually sound pretty great as a duet with Ms Katie) are both worth a listen — do so here:

Up third is an album that showed up on far fewer wrapups, but was one I’d thought about including for a while, as it came from another long running band back for another surprise spin. This one was from NY’s Nada Surf, returning with their tenth studio album and first in four years. These guys have been churning out relatively reliable pop tunes since the mid-90s, albeit never reaching the heights they achieved on their debut, High/Low. (I’ll always prefer its follow up, Let Go, though, a perfect slab of pop confections.) The band sounds just like you remember and there’s a handful of good tunes within, but similar to other nostalgic acts that returned last year like the Crowes, PJ, and Libertines, they fell just outside the rungs of my writeup. That shouldn’t stop you from giving it a spin and enjoying several of the songs, though, like the bright leadoff “Second Skin” and the wistful “Losing.” Check both of them out here:

We’ll wrap up the front four with one that showed up on people’s lists last year, but I wound up revisiting it based on the band from the lead, which reminded me of them. I’m referring to Sun June who released their third album Bad Dream Jaguar in 2023 and while it was another pretty, woozy affair, it was too monochromatic to me and thus was left off my list. (I was a huge fan of their first two, which for whatever reason seemed more varied and thus hit a little harder, despite cooking with the same ingredients.) My assessment hasn’t changed upon revisiting it this month, but there were a couple of tunes I’d remembered liking and felt were worth sharing, given the opportunity.  Give “Moon Ahead” and “Easy Violence” a listen here:

For the back half of the closeout we’ll shift to some extras from a handful of artists who did make the year end list — either this year or previously — and as such pare it back to a single song from each. (I don’t want to bore you, after all…) We’ll start with a pair of B-sides from albums on this year’s version, the first of which comes from one of its biggest surprises, the return to form from former White Stripes frontman Jack White, whose album landed at #4 last month. This track didn’t make that album’s cut, but easily could have as it continues the fiery riffage of its best, marrying the sludgy stutter of his Stripes’ “Little Cream Soda” with another gloriously feisty earworm that would make White’s pal Page proud. No muss, no fuss, just another fun foot stomper from someone who used to do em almost better than anyone. I really hope he keeps this up — we need simple pleasures like this to hold onto…

The second half of our B-side buddy system is another gem from perennial fave Ms Katie (aka Waxahatchee) and an extra from her excellent album Tigers Blood, which came this close to claiming the top spot on my year end list last month.  It’s a song from the same sessions that spawned that album and therefore carries much of the same magic, including contributions from its talisman, the aforementioned MJ Lenderman. She started sneaking it into her sets while on tour this year and it fit in perfectly, its carefree country vibe nestling in nicely alongside the others as its lyrics of characteristic uncertainty and self-critique were carried home as always by that angelic voice. (“Tell you to lose my number and then I call you twice…light me up with one spark, relish the anarchy.”) Another blissful beauty from one of my faves — give it a listen here:

We’ll shift from B-sides to bedsides and a series of intimate performances from former list mates to soothe your frazzled nerves. For whatever reason the algorithm has been pushing me stripped back live stuff from some of my faves the last month or so (maybe it sensed the dire, growing need for peace and tranquility bearing down on us…) and there are several worth sharing here. The first comes from the last of our current year’s crop of artists and Alabama’s Red Clay Strays, who landed at #6 last month. They recently got to do one of NPR’s Tiny Desk sets and it was a good one. They start out uptempo before settling into some of the album’s slower fare and frontman Brandon Coleman shines, both for his voice and humble demeanor.  Really nice set by the whole band — give it a ride here:

The last of the live shots comes from a former champ and it’s also one of the best.  It comes from the great Gregory Alan Isakov and a rendition of one of the songs off his 2013 masterpiece The Weatherman.  (An album I didn’t discover until a year or so later, thanks to Mad Dog, but I’ve loved him ever since, showing up at #8 in 2018 and #1 in 2023.)  It shows Isakov and his band huddled around a single mic as they often do to close their shows, only this time from a barn in rural Arkansas. It’s every bit as spellbinding as when they do it live, with banjo man Steve Varney’s backing vocals sending a shiver down your spine here. Beautiful stuff — brace yourself for an absolute knee-buckler here:

That’s it for now — it’s been a hell of a week and there’s no reason to think it’s going to slow down or get any better. As a result, I’ll keep digging for pockets of respite in the music and sharing any solace I find so you can do the same. In the meantime be good to each other and remember that integrity, excellence, and compassion matter and will more broadly again someday…

Until next time, amici… –BS

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Music For Mom: Misty, Maxinquaye, and More

I’ve been spending more time posting over at the other site lately (Fuddge’s bet to write less more is proving hard to shake), but didn’t want to neglect my duties here for too much longer, so thought I’d pop in with a few recs. And since it’s a day that encourages taking a moment to look back to celebrate all our mothers have done for us, thought we could share a little of that shine for a few albums who have done their fair share over the years as well.

First and foremost being Father John Misty’s debut, Fear Fun, which turns ten this year. As described nicely in this article from Stereogum, this marked one of many reinventions by the man behind the mask, Josh Tillman.  He’d spent years releasing quieter, darker singer/songwriter style albums as J. Tillman (give Singing Ax a try to start) before leaving that behind to become the drummer for Fleet Foxes right as they began their ascent into indie stardom. In the midst of all that, Tillman decided to blow it all up again, walking away from the fame to assume the persona he’s donned for five albums over the past ten years, that of the aforementioned Misty.

This in turn has spawned several internal recalibrations of which Misty would come to the forefront on the various albums — whether it’s the romance-addled ladies man or exhausting blowhard and know-it-all to now showtune spinning revivalist apparently? — but it’s never been more perfectly in tune than on this debut. Tillman gives us glimpses of those other aspects of his persona here, but they’re never as overblown or insufferable as they can get on those later albums. (This is not to say these subsequent albums are all terrible — I Love You, Honeybear landed at #5 on my list in 2015, while God’s Favorite Customer did the same in 2018.)

It works here because everything isn’t turned up to 11 and Tillman isn’t yet living with his head fully up his own ass — the weariness, the sarcasm, the silly swagger in spite of it all, even the simple admission that every man (including the only son of a ladiesman) needs a companion.  It’s lovely and endearing in a way that his later attempts all too often miss the mark on — in large part because the sincerity hasn’t yet shifted to a schtick. He seems to be singing from the heart instead of his overactive (and I would argue overconfident) head and it’s why this remains such a fantastic listen 10 years in.

“Funtimes in Babylon,” “Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings,” “Misty’s Nightmares 1 & 2,” and “Well, You Can Do It Without Me” remain classics in his catalog and I vividly remember when I was traveling in Jordan years later and one of the album’s songs strangely (and irrepressibly) came to mind. I was hiking through Petra, admiring the mind-frying beauty on display throughout, as the sun was starting to set. It was a windy day and something about the pitch of the wind’s howl sounded just like the ethereal wail from “This is Sally Hatchet.” Once my mind made that connection, every gust of the wind tearing through the canyon reminded me of that song and I spent the remaining hour or so making my way back to the car with that eerie moan running through my head (the song’s slight hint of danger matching that of the darkening skies). It was a strange connection, but one that felt appropriate in a place so isolated and out of time. Tillman can manifest both these elements to his detriment at times, but when he keeps them in check like he does here he’s unstoppable.

Enjoy that otherworldly wail from one of my faves, “Sally,” here:

Another album that’s gotten a nice retrospective recently is Tricky’s  Maxinquaye, which was written about well by Pitchfork. It follows the trend of the previous album in two ways — it was a debut (one which would prove to be even more impossible to follow and match on subsequent outings) and it sounded so original and unique it could have been unearthed at that ancient place in Petra for all we knew. (That latter part is something that did continue on subsequent albums — for better or worse, no one really sounds like Tricky — and when it works (as it so often does here) it’s incredible.) And while the two share those things in common, how this singular achievement came to be was very different.

As noted previously, Tillman had years of experience as a solo act under his belt, which helped inform his pivot to the Misty persona (an homage to the old Seinfeld adage of “if every instinct you have is wrong, just do the opposite” perhaps). Tricky, on the other hand, didn’t have that body of work and muscle memory to rely on (or reject) — aside from hanging around with the Massive Attack lads (first as part of the Wild Bunch and then for the recording of their classic Blue Lines, his contributions being heard most compellingly on the title track with his still sizzling verses) he was a clean slate. Which makes the end product all the more impressive — as the article describes, Tricky was essentially just making it up as he went, chasing the sounds in his head and trying to translate them to record, often to the frustration of those around him.

What he manages to capture is a smoldering, sensual mix, equal parts sexy and sinister that owes no small debt to the interplay between Tricky and Martina Topley-Bird (another neophyte that Tricky plucked off the streets to magical effect). The dynamic between the pair is irresistible, like mixing two volatile chemicals and waiting for the kinetic response. (This was no manufactured studio effect either, but something that spilled over into real life as the two have a child together.) This swirling tension grabs you from the outset and scarcely lets you go, with some absolute hammer blows dealt before the end.

The opening quartet of “Overcome,” “Ponderosa,” “Black Steel,” and “Hell is Around the Corner” cement the album’s impact immediately, casting an almost impossibly high bar to maintain. That the album comes close more often than not is a testament to its quality and why it remains a favorite for fans of this genre nearly 30 years later. (ie trip hop, as administered by giants like Massive, Portishead (who use the same Isaac Hayes sample as “Hell” on their “Glory Box,” sparking the first of many “who did it better” debates between that band and Tricky over the years), and others.) Later tracks like “Aftermath,” “Brand New You’re Retro,” and “Strugglin'” keep the momentum going, but by that point it’s almost all icing.

That opening salvo was enough of a head wrecker to catapult Tricky into the limelight and the plaudits for the album were something he struggled with mightily in the coming years. He increasingly turned to the grittier, more paranoid side of his sound, becoming less embraceable and more insular as the albums wore on. (Pre-Millenium Tension and Nearly God released the following year have several good tracks, but as Topley-Bird left the fold and Tricky navigated things on his own, the songs got rougher sounding and more claustrophobic, suffocating the sensuality and heat that had made his earlier work shine.) Thankfully we’ll always have this one to come back to — check out “Ponderosa,” an absolute mind-melter of a song that I’ve listened to a ton lately (it’s incredible on headphones and substances):

We’ll close with a couple quick hits that’ve been piling up on my browser tabs. First comes a cover from Kevin Morby (whose new album is out soon — get excited!) of the elusive cult-favorite Bill Fay. The Dead Oceans label is doing a series of releases covering old Fay songs and Morby’s is a good one of his “I Hear You Calling.”  Morby explained his interest in a statement, saying, “Bill Fay exists as a secret handshake amongst us musicians. Those of us familiar with his body of work are obsessed with it. When I first heard him, years ago, I felt as if I was rediscovering something I had lost and had long been looking for.” It’s an apt description that sums up the found treasure feeling I had years ago when I stumbled on him. I was turned onto Fay thanks to Jeff Tweedy who used to cover Fay’s “Be Not So Fearful” beautifully in some of his solo shows and it remains one of my favorites. Morby’s is a nice addition to the canon and a good reason to go check out Fay if you haven’t already — give it a listen here:

(And just cuz I like you, here’s Tweedy’s version too):

Sticking with the found treasure vibe, Folk Implosion recently surfaced for the first time in 19 years with some new tracks (and the promise of more to come), which was a very pleasant surprise.  They still sound the same (another pleasant surprise) so I’m very excited to see what else they turn out. (The Kids soundtrack was obviously excellent, but some of the tracks on One Part Lullaby are pretty great, too, including the smoldering “Kingdom of Lies,” which is a long-time fave.) No word on when the rest of the songs (or album) will be out, but in the meantime we can enjoy the lead single “Don’t Give it Away” here:

(And cuz I can’t help myself, here’s “Kingdom,” too):

Next comes the latest single from Andy Shauf who continues his torrid pace of recording and releases. This time it’s a double single, fronted by the lovely “Satan,” which is a great little tune in spite of the sinister title. No word on whether this is building towards a bigger release or a standalone (Shauf’s surprise EP/LP Wilds landed at #10 on last year’s list) but nothing seems off the table these days, so hopefully he’s got an album coming soon. In the meantime, give the latest one a ride here:

And we’ll close with a longer listen, the recent mini concert that beloved Jesus and Mary Chain did on French TV that I stumbled on now that YouTube serves as my cable. Its magic algorithm suggested it as part of my nightly perusing and I’m glad it did because the boys deliver a pretty fiery set (in spite of the subdued, almost antiseptic surroundings). They sound great throughout, but particularly on their version of “Darklands,” which really jumped out. Give the whole thing a listen and then check out the original underneath. Solid stuff from the stellar Scots.


Until next time, amici…
–BS

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A Wonderful Life — Antics of the Idle(s)

After a few weeks away — what was I doing, you ask? Off on a multi-week journey into the hinterlands, road tripping in search of adventure and a deeper spiritual connection to myself? Long shore fishing off the coast of Maine, bonding with my grizzled shipmates whilst hunting the most dangerous (and delicious) of catches? Ensconced in a remote learning program, studiously discovering the treasures of Portuguese painters or the peccadilloes of Postgres? Sadly, no. It’s pandemia — I’ve done largely the same sh#$ I’ve been doing the past six months — what have you been doing??? (NOT staying home, distancing, and/or masking up? Oh that’s right — that’s why we’re gonna be stuck with this thing until next Christmas…)

Anyway — after a few weeks in hiding, I wanted to make sure the eight of you didn’t worry about me, so am surfacing with a sign of life. (I also found a few items worth sharing, so if you don’t really care about the first part you at least can have a few new tunes to listen to for your troubles…) One recent discovery in my perpetual search for things to keep me interested/occupied was Boston-based Vundabar, whose debut album Antics came on recently and immediately caught my ear. Sounding a bit like Voxhaul Broadcast, Voxtrot, and the Districts (to ruin the Vox-only comparisons), the album sports solid melodies, bright, jangly guitars, and frontman Brandon Hagen’s slight, wispy voice soaring atop it all.

It’s actually an older album — it dropped way back in 2013 — but is a solid listen top to bottom. There’s surf rock instrumentals (“Troubadour”), revved up indie rockers (“Plains,” “Sad Clown”), and more mellow, melodic tracks (“Kalidasa”), along with the occasional splash of punk (“Hives”). They all flow together nicely, as do the tracks on the band’s follow up album, 2015’s Gawk. That one strips some of the variety and remains more monochromatic, but is also a really good listen with some solid, catchy hooks. (“Oulala” and “Darla” being but two examples.)

Their most recent album is a bit of a disappointing departure as they stripped away all the muscular guitars and rawer bits for a smoother, softer (and I would argue “safer”) feel, but I’ve been enjoying the heck out of their first two. See if you agree, with the one that got me hooked in the first place — “Holy Toledo,” off their debut:

Next comes another discovery, again from an older album I missed the first time around. This one’s courtesy of London-based Shopping whose debut album Consumer Complaints came out the same year as Vundabar’s debut, but that’s where the similarities end. The sound is divergent, much more straightforward, energetic post-punk, with grooves that’ll almost get you dancing on occasion. This was another one that crept into my stream somehow, but I’m glad it did. It’s a good mix of attitude and melody, and while later albums watered that down and got repetitive, this one’s got a lot to keep you happy. Check out “In Other Words” here:

We’ll close with some quickies, first with the sad news that Justin Townes Earle, the son of Steve Earle, passed away last week. The singer/songwriter had long struggled with drug addiction and even overdosed several times before, but in recent years seemed to have been on the mend, so his passing is doubly disappointing.

Earle became known for his storytelling lyrics (similar to those of his namesake, Townes Van Sandt, or even his father) and his songs easily walked between more traditional country fare and softer, sadder songs. I always preferred the latter, which always felt more confessional — tracks like “Someday I’ll be Forgiven for This,” “Rogers Park,” or “Mama’s Eyes” each showcased his songwriting skills and his heart. Try the latter, off his 2009 Midnight at the Movies:

Next comes the latest from another singer/songwriter, this time in the form of fave Kevin Morby.  It’s been several months since I had the pleasure of spending time with Morbzahatchee, the two headed treat formed by Kevin and his lady, Ms Katie Crutchfield. Their many livestreams formed the beginning of my lockdown life, but sadly they’ve been away the past few months.  Ms Katie took some time to do a weekly concert series where she’d play one of her albums start to finish, and it sounds like Sir Kevin is planning to do the same soon — including songs from his surprise upcoming album, Sundowner, which should arrive in October.

Morby just released Oh My God last year, which landed at #7 on the annual wrapup.  Somehow he’s got another batch of tunes ready to roll, though, which is in line with his rather prolific pace. (He’s released six albums the past seven years, all of which are really quite good.)  It sounds like a portion of this material (if not all) actually precedes his last album, he just hadn’t felt the time was right for it yet.

Thankfully that time has come, and if the first single is any indication we should be in for more of the same solid songwriting and melodies he’s given us to date. Looking forward to it — check out “Campfire” and its video (which shows some very sweet glances and interactions between the halves of Morbzahatchee) here:

We’ll stick with the singer/songwriter theme one last time, this time for Father John Misty, who’s been busy releasing a bunch of covers lately. (A couple Leonard Cohen tracks, in addition to a T Rex cover this week.) He also dropped a couple new songs in between, one of which is the lovely “To R.,” which sports Misty and a plaintive piano. There’s no news of an impending album, so we’ll have to ride out the tide with these while we wait — give it a listen here:

We’ll stay under the covers a moment longer as White Reaper got into the act, too, recently, doing a version of 80s band Cleaners from Venus’ song “Only a Shadow.” It’s a bit of a surprising choice — despite being from the decade where Reaper finds most of their influences, Cleaners skew much more towards the idiosyncratic, isolationist side of the dial instead of the arena-friendly anthems the band is known for. (Cleaners being the side project of Brit eccentric and solo artist Martin Newell.)

They make it sound like a natural fit, though, soaking the guitars in layers of reverb, while otherwise staying true to the original’s early Cure vibe. It’s a good listen (and like all well-executed covers, a good excuse to explore some of the source material) — give it a ride here:

We’ll close with the latest from Idles, whose upcoming album Ultra Mono should be a perfect soundtrack to the ongoing deluge of dick punches this year has been doling out. The band recently did a trio of live streams from fabled Abbey Road studios, similar to GBV’s plugged in, full band, no crowd offering a month or so ago. And similar to that band’s outing, it was kind of awesome.

The guys mixed up three brisk, brawling sets with songs from each of their albums, along with a couple throwaway covers. (Their homage to their location and the Beatles “Helter Skelter” being a notable exception.) They sounded really tight live, shifting tempos and grooves with all the force and fury of frontman Joe Talbot’s customary delivery.

The new material in particular sounded good, including previously unheard tracks “War” and “Kill em with Kindness,” which finds the band channeling their inner Lizard more than ever to powerful effect. The latter track is an instant favorite, with Talbot’s nonsensical lyrics bouncing off an absolutely irresistible riff — can’t wait til the rest of the album arrives. Enjoy this one in the meantime — I’ve sure been wearing it out this past week.

Until next time, amici… –BS