In honor of March Madness and the laundry list of places targeted in the President’s big announcement this week I thought it was time to check in and offer a series of recommendations to fill up your free time. As in both those instances there are a lot of entrants, some of varying degrees of merit, and thanks to the Spots cutting the number of bands you can see in your history at any one time I need to write about them because they keep falling off the edge into oblivion, so consider this both a public service and an act of self-preservation, otherwise I’d forget about them. (Sadly all bands mentioned will also be hit with tariffs, as is mandatory practice now…)
Since there are so many and the consistency of the albums is so varied we won’t spend equal time on all of them — in some cases just a quick score check and highlight before flitting off to another game — but wanted to give each their moment in the sun(shine), as most won’t be making it to the championship. (My beloved year end list!) That said, there’s still plenty of goodness to enjoy, so wanted to focus on the bright spots and share since I’m sure we could all use a little more joy in our days right now… We’ll start with the lower seeds and work our way up, building in quality and impact as we go, so without further ado, bring on the brackets!
The first pairing is of a couple of quiet singer/songwriters whose last albums landed on my vaunted year end list — both in 2023. One landed at number 10, the other landed in a three way tie at the top (!), so I was excited to hear they both had new offerings in store for us. Unfortunately, both are a bit too monochromatic for my tastes this time with the songs bleeding into each other in an indiscernible heap. The two artists are the UK’s Charlie Cunningham and hometowner Sofia Jensen, aka Free Range, and while both albums give you more of what worked so well on the last ones — “another elegant mix of piano, acoustic guitar, and quiet, contemplative lyrics of love and faith,” to cite myself — the distinctions between those items (and songs) isn’t as sharp. Don’t get me wrong, both albums are quite calming and pretty — nothing to sneeze at these days, believe me — but I found myself struggling to latch on to any particular item within them, be it a melody or a song, to give me purchase and call me back. Maybe that’ll change over time, but as of now I found both to be a bit of a blur and thus a little letdown. (A theme with a lot of these former list makers, as you’ll soon see…) Check out my two favorites, though, and see if you get better footing than I have so far — “New Symmetry” from Cunningham and “Big Star” from Free Range:
We’ll stay in the shade of similarity and another pair of albums that suffer a bit for their homogeneity. They’re from another two artists I’ve written about before, and while they haven’t yet made their way onto a year end list, I consider both exciting finds and have really enjoyed listening to their stuff. We’ll start with the Bozeman-based Richy Mitch and the Coal Miners, as their latest suffers from the same malady as the last two. The album (Colorado’s On Fire Again) is their fourth overall and their first since 2019’s Subliming, and it’s another dreamy mix of echoey vocals, 80s-style guitar, and delicate piano and acoustic parts. The songs are mostly suites here, sketches that shift from melody to melody like half-formed thoughts flitting through your brain. Because of that and how far back in the mix the instruments are, everything has this gauzy feel to it, like you’re hearing it half awake or through the walls to the apartment next door. It makes it hard to differentiate one song/thought from the other and as a result everything blurs together in an admittedly pleasant haze, as if rising from a nap on a warm summer day. You’re not going to get any of them stuck in your head and say “oh I love that song!” like “Lake Missoula” or “St. Paul” off previous albums. That said, there’s plenty of prettiness to lose yourself in, if nothing else to inspire one of those cozy midafternoon naps, perhaps — check out one example, “El, Imponderable,” here:
Their slotmate is Birmingham’s Will Stewart, back with his fourth album, Moon Winx, his first since last year’s very cool homage to Morphine on the 90 Acre Farm covers EP. While the previous band suffered a bit from their songs bleeding together in mood and mixing, Stewart’s do so more from tempo and balance. He remains something of a shapeshifter overall, this time offering us a mix of Petty, Uncle Tupelo, and even some glimmers of Gin Blossoms’ jangle on the album’s energetic tracks. Unfortunately those are balanced out with far more muted (and numerous) meditations that weigh things down a bit too much. They’re all perfectly pleasant slow songs (songs like “Roxy Blue” and “Late for the Banquet” are both touching tunes about love and addiction), but they bog things down a bit compared to those energetic highs and smother some of Stewart’s most attractive elements. Overall it’s still a pretty solid listen, I just found myself wanting more of the bright, effervescent tunes since they showcase his many strengths best. Check out a case in point, current fave “Bird in the Hand,” here:
We’ll shift from the similarity theme to a pair of albums that have plenty of variety and share a somewhat Southern feel — along with a #fridayfreshness crown from our sister site on the ‘Gram, which is how I discovered both acts. The first is former Chicagoan (and current Angelino) Truman Sinclair who recently released his debut album American Recordings. Its lead single “Chicago Flood” won the aforementioned crown with its glimmers of Peter Gabriel and it’s joined here by a handful of tracks which call to mind other heavy hitters. There’s the strong Neil Young vibes of “Bloodline” with its harmonica bridge (or the folksy epic “Joel Roberts,” which has a nice finger-plucked banjo accompaniment), as well as hints of REM on the ode to his friend “Frank” with its mandolin or Counting Crows on the boisterous “Mary.” Sinclair moves quickly, hopping from touchstone to touchstone like a frog across a river, and the album itself lasts but a brief half hour. It’s a promising start (or continuation if you’ve enjoyed his earlier EPs and singles, as I have) — check out the outlaw epic “Joel Roberts” here:
Sinclair is joined in this slot by South Carolina’s Bear Rinehart, better known as Wilder Woods, who’s back with his third solo album, Curioso. It’s been two years since his last one (2023’s FEVER / SKY) and it finds him in an upbeat mood, jumping from sound to sound almost as frequently as Sinclair. There’s the furious Strokes-style guitars in opening “Swimming in the Ocean” and the Wilderado-inflected “Hide Anymore,” the proto-soul of “Time on our Hands” (which sports a solid cameo from MMJ astronomer Jim James — more on him in a bit), and the semi-tribal jungle vibe of “Where Do We Go From Here.” There’s more standard country pop like “Love Last” and the bluesy rumble of “Devil in my Eyes” as well, rounding out the array. Contrary to the previous slot’s Stewart, the softer moments are the ones that send things over the top here, from the breezy beauty “Kind of Magic” to the duo of damsel duets that are the album’s high points — the closing “Wild Fire” with Maggie Rogers and the lights out “Offering” with Anna Graves, which won a #FF crown recently over on the ‘Gram. The latter is so good it’s worth anointing again here: bliss out on its beauty here:
The next bracket is another set of solo shapeshifters, only minus the Southern feel this time. One’s a ‘Gram-mar champion and the other a ‘Spots spillover, my two most reliable ways to find music these days. The first is the former, Nashville singer/songwriter Max Helgemo, whose real self is almost impossible to pick up as you listen to his songs, like a watermelon seed sitting on the linoleum — there’s bits of Shakey Graves (“Taken for a Spin”), Andy Shauf (“Pretty, Pretty,” “You in Mind”), Pete Yorn (“Back at You,” “Uncovered”), and Rufus Wainwright (“Kylie”), but somehow they all work for him. His debut album Looking for an Island came out two years ago and it’s a pretty solid listen, as is his EP New License, which preceded it by three years. Helgemo has recently released a few singles (one of which took the crown over on the ‘Gram) hinting at a hopefully inbound sophomore album, but in the meantime give the lush, melancholic “Spin,” which kicks off his first one, a try here:
Helgemo’s slotmate is Philly singer/songwriter Jordan Caiola who performs as a solo artist under his last name, in addition to fronting the feel good band Mo Lowda & the Humble. He’s released a handful of albums under each guise (two as the former, four as the latter), but the one that’s been spinning on endless repeat lately is his solo album from last year, This Could be Everything. It’s got hints of Noah Kahan on there, singing about the woods and cicadas, as well as Bon Iver and Kings of Leon. (The latter being probably the most prominent echo, both here and on his band’s albums, for how closely his voice mirrors that of Kings frontman Caleb Followil’s.) The songs are really catchy, with Caiola’s voice and a slew of winning melodies drawing you in. Tracks like “Warning Streets” (with phellow Philly phrontman Barney Cortez), “Driving in After You,” and “Los Angeles” all lodge themselves firmly in your brain, as do the aforementioned Kahan-inspired tunes “NY Woods” and “Year of the Cicadas.” My current fave among many is the quiet beauty “Fuji Harvest,” which is just Caiola and an acoustic, softly breaking your heart. Give it a listen here:
The next bracket contains a pair of folkies, one introduced to me courtesy of fan mail, the other the aforementioned #fridayfreshness competition. Both are known for their spare, simple melodies and warm, inviting voices, and I had the privilege of seeing them play together recently at an intimate little show that nearly rocked the crowd to sleep with their soft, soothing lullabies. (I spent the majority of the show with my eyes closed, just letting the words wash over me as I fervently fought actually nodding off.) The headliner that night was Jeffrey Martin, the bearded bard from Portland who my right fielder recommended to me several months ago (apparently he’s big among the softballing community from Seattle) and Martin’s lightly gruff voice and storytelling won me over. He’s released four albums and an EP since getting started in 2009, the last coming two years ago (the solid Thank God we Left the Garden), and he spent several years as a teacher in extremely rural Alaska before doing this. (Which probably gave him the quiet patience and introspective exhaustion he exudes both on stage and in his songs.) His voice reminds me a bit of David Gray and it weaves the same magic, drawing you into his lyrics before pushing you back against the wall when it starts booming. The track “Paper Crown” off his last album was one of the highlights of the show and is a current fave — give it a try here:
While Martin may have had top billing I was most excited to see his opener, Durham’s Lou Hazel, whose debut album Riot of the Red came out last month. Its lead single (the title track) was the one that caught my ear and won a recent #FF competition, which sent me down a rabbithole listening to both it and his earlier EP, 2020’s Carolina (Out of my Mind), on repeat. Hazel might not have as much material as Martin yet, but what he has is every bit as good. He recorded the album a full four years ago, but wasn’t able to release until this year for whatever reason. (He was working as guitar tech for another band and it sounds like that and some label struggles prevented it from seeing the light until now.) It was definitely worth the wait, though, as it’s packed with really good songs. Hazel’s voice flickers between Dylan and Paul Simon while his lyrics explore similar inspirations as those legends, being filled with images of nature and the working man’s world — nothing fancy or forced, just simple slices of regular life. Hazel (not his real name) is an interesting guy, judging just by his banter on stage at the show — his close friend currently lives in a haunted bowling alley in small town Pennsylvania (he’s trying to refurbish it), he makes faces out of mushrooms and plant life while wandering in the woods (he then sells them on t-shirts and merch at his shows), and he’s wary of crows, who he thinks might be following him. (He threw a rock at them once as a child, an act that allegedly sparked this decades-long tension.) His quirkiness is pretty winning, though, and his confessional demeanor won the crowd over, quickly forgiving him when he made a couple mistakes and had to restart (and then abandon) one of the songs in his short set. (He was pretty sick and admitted he was hopped up on Theraflu, but otherwise sounded fantastic.) The song he screwed up just happened to be my favorite on the album, but the rest of his set was so good it didn’t matter. Give “Little Peace” a listen here and enjoy:
The next bracket is for a pair of grizzled veterans and two artists who rank among my faves, both having shown up repeatedly here over the years. The first, Hamilton Leithauser, formerly fronted the beloved Walkmen, who were routine guests on my year end lists and had two show up on my best of the last 15 celebration (landing at #3 in 2010 and #4 in 2008), while the second, Guided by Voices, are almost perennial participants, often having multiple albums land there in a single year. (They’ve done so the last six years in a row, landing at #9 last year, #4 in 2023, #6 in 2022, etc etc etc…) Both are back with kitchen sink affairs, throwing a bunch of new elements in the mix to broaden their sound (and maybe keep themselves interested, at least for the latter), but unfortunately it’s not always for the better.
Ham delivers the stronger of the two, back for the first time in five years with his fourth solo album. In the years since 2020’s The Loves of Your Life he’s reunited his old band for a series of successful tours (I got a chance to attend and was impressed with how well they approximated the heat of their heyday) and tinkered with the songs here, some of which he’s reportedly been working on for the last eight years. There’s a little bit of everything in here and that somewhat haphazard approach to instrumentation and accompaniments means the album is a little tough to pin down. There’s 60s-style “do dos” on “Fists of Flowers” (one-upping itself in the following song with “do do dos” on “Burn the Boats,” along with annoying phaser style sound effects), there’s sax on “Ocean Roar,” there’s marimba and horns on “What Do I Think?” It’s a lot less of the Sinatra-style crooner he’d been showing on some of his earlier albums, but it still leaves me longing for his old band more than anything else. I appreciate that he’s still out there (and I still love his voice when it’s in full throat), the songs just don’t resonate with me like they used to, for whatever reason. “Knockin Heart” is a straightforward fave, though (along with the majestic title track), one that gives you glimmers of that rowdy former self. Give it a listen here:
For the other half of the bracket the relentlessly productive dudes from Dayton GBV offer another sprawling affair, packed with 17 tracks that are a bit more experimental than their recent outings, taking you back to their earlier lo-fi pastiches. Dr Bob gives us a slew of atonal vocals and other elements this time — UFO-sounding phaser waves on “Driving Time,” strings on “Great Man,” Mellotron on “Dawn Believes.” There’s even folky instrumentals as on “The Well Known Soldier” and a Flamenco vibe on “Fran Cisco.” For some reason, though, they ditch most of the hooks that have been in such abundance of late. Pollard said he deliberately stripped the songs back a lot to limit repetition and give listeners a “wild ride” so they’d have to revisit them multiple times to fully appreciate them, but for me the fact that so many songs are missing those melodic bits to latch onto it makes it difficult to want to. There are a few exceptions (the aforementioned “Great Man” and “Fran Cisco” being two) but for the first time in a LONG time I find myself uninterested in going back to this one. We’ll see if that changes as the year transpires, but as of now it seems like the six year streak might sadly be done, unless they salvage things with another album later in the year. In the meantime, check out “Hers Purple,” a winning little blip in an otherwise bleak sea:
The next bracket is for another pair of acts I’ve written about multiple times, with both having landed in that fabled fairground of the year end celebrants. The UK’s Doves last did so five years ago with their album The Universal Want, which landed at #11 on that year’s list. Since that time lead singer Jimi Goodwin said he will no longer tour with the band in order to protect his mental health (the Williams brothers will carry on without him, handling the vocals best they can on the road), but beside that things seem fine for the most part. There’s a couple hints of dissonance (the space age squiggles and theatrical jangles that mar the otherwise pleasant “Strange Weather” and plaintive piano ballad “Orlando,” respectively), but otherwise things sound like they always do. The band’s trademark lushness that will leave you swooning and lightheaded is as plentiful as ever, along with some tiny new wrinkles like the hints of Duran Duran that show up in “A Drop in the Ocean” or the Asian instrumentation that flutters to the surface on “In the Butterfly House.” It’s another pretty solid affair with a lot of good tunes to sink your teeth into — from the soaring, swaggering groove of “Cold Dreaming” to the woozy elegance of “Last Year’s Man” and the stately harmonization on “Saint Teresa.” Lead single and opener “Renegade” is the current fave, though, another textbook distillation of their singular sound. Give it a listen here:
The back half of the bracket belongs to the prolific Texan Charley Crockett, back with another album after dropping two on us just last year. (Both landed on my year end list at #6.) This latest one starts strong with the one-two punch of the title track “Lonesome Drifter” and “Game I Can’t Win” (the latter of which sports some sweet banjo rampages), but then shifts to a curious remake of Tanya Tucker’s “Jamestown Ferry” (a song he already covered on 2017’s Honky Tonk Jubilee) and a slew of slow swaying ballads that quickly put the brakes on that early momentum. They’re all perfectly pleasant (“Easy Money” and the closing “Amarillo by Morning” both shimmer), but overall it leans too heavily on that softer side for my tastes. There are a couple of back half tracks that flex their muscles and/or boost the tempo (the quietly growling “One Trick Pony” and “Never No More,” respectively, the latter of which shows off his trademark soulful side) but writ large it stifles some of his biggest charms. (The high energy charisma and showmanship that comes thru even without watching him live.) That said, similar to Doves this is another mostly solid outing from the tireless ten dollar cowboy and definitely worth your time. Give the aforementioned title track a try here:
The last bracket contains another pair of bands I’ve written about before, though the former hasn’t appeared here for a whopping eleven years! Thankfully we’re fixing that now with the exciting return of California trio Devil Makes Three, back with their seventh studio outing (their first in as many years), and they offer us an excellent album full of specters, struggles, and substances. There’s references to the former in the title track and “Ghosts Are Weak,” the latter in “Ghosts,” “Half as High,” and the hilarious ode to escapism “I Love Doing Drugs,” and the middle in the aptly named “Hard Times” and the somber, stately song of survival that closes things out, “Holding On.” It’s all done with the band’s characteristic mix of old time imagery and folksy instrumentation, and it continues to be irresistible.
The lyrics remain vivid paintings (or protests), depending on what topic we’re exploring — there’s angry mobs and free tombstones on “The Dark Gets the Best of You,” torches and hurled stones in “Divide and Conquer,” and cigarette smoke, stolen cars, and poisoned wells (to go along with the poisoned trees they sang about on on an earlier album) in the song of the latter name. Those ride alongside glimpses of the band’s punk roots, which are evident in the subtle thread (or threat?) of resistance that runs throughout the album. Aside from the inherent grittiness present in the songs about survival (“I don’t believe in chance, I don’t believe in fate, I just believe in holding on”), there’s the reasons behind hurling those aforementioned stones — being misled by those in power (“when they said it was gonna trickle down, you know that they were lyin'”), being manipulated by (and fuel for) their divisionist tactics (“hey, everybody, bring somebody to burn — if it isn’t you now, then you’re waiting your turn”), or being cheated and betrayed by them writ large. (“Underneath the spell, all are forsaken, without a fence think of the profits they would rake in. Nothin’ here was given, all had to be taken – you think this is what they wanted, you are sorely mistaken.”) It all makes for another fantastic listen (this one will almost certainly show up again at the end of the year) so check out the opening “Lights on Me,” which crackles with sinister foreshadowing and sets the scene perfectly:
Joining them in this slot is another perennial fave, the much loved shamans of the stars My Morning Jacket, who are back with their eighth album and first in four years (their self-titled seventh landed at #4 on my list in 2021), but it finds them as strong (and polished) as ever. They continue their trend of opening with a song that soars, serving as the perfect start to both their album and subsequent live shows (a tradition dating back almost to their beginning), and chase that with a handful of songs that are bound to be staples in said shows moving forward. (Lead single “Time Waited,” with its lovely piano and feel good lyrics are tailor-made to spark mid-set singalongs, while the easy, infectious groove of “Everyday Magic” is another bound to sizzle in person.) They throw in some interesting wrinkles again along the way — there’s the hurky jurky “Half a Lifetime,” which initially sounds like the machine was eating the tape before settling into its synthetic rhythm, the island-inspired mashup of “‘Dyer Maker” and the band’s “Slow Slow Tune” on “I Can Hear Your Love,” and the “Maneater” boosting “Lemme Know,” which is every bit as catchy as that sample. (TELL ME you don’t hear it…) Each of them hew more towards experiments like Evil Urges’ much-maligned “Highly Suspicious” and I’m sure will be criticized by fans who only want It Still Moves-era crunchiness and riffs. And while I love that album as much as everyone (it was top on my ranking of the band’s catalog), I’ve also come to embrace their modern day incarnation, with their simplified (some might say greeting card style) lyrics about love and peace and the sometimes strange (and less incendiary) side steps they may take sonically.
Do I wish tracks like “Beginning from the Ending” and “Die For It” would push a little farther, seizing the opening to send things into the stratosphere rather than pull their punch a bit to stay in the pocket? Sure. That said, I still like their current state and am certain they will get stretched out live to unleash the customary flurry of fireworks and achieve their full fury. And do I think frontman Jim James’ lyrics sometimes lean a little heavy on the hippie dippie stuff that might push some people away? I suppose, but he’s still singing the sh#$ out of these songs, blowing your hair back with his delivery so I’m not gonna critique him too harshly. (Just try to question his sincerity (or match him hitting those high notes) in tracks like “Lifetime” or “Squid Ink,” the latter of which comes closest to capturing that live feel on the album, offering a smoldering little solo at the end.) So while there may be a couple instances where you question the decision to hold back (or fade away, as they do on the closing classic “River Road” whose sinister, lurching groove sizzles before inexplicably fading to black in a Sopranos finale type situation), ultimately they feel like minor concerns because a) the songs still get stuck in your head (it’s been a new one every other day for me lately) and b) the omissions only make me want to see how they adjust them live even more (particularly the last track, which could go on for another ten minutes and I’d be happy). In short, I understand some of the concerns, but don’t share them. (I even kinda like “Suspicious” now!) Instead I’m allowing myself to succumb to the album’s overarching positivity and vibe, which is as bright and sunny as our days currently are not. Check out that killer closer (and don’t freak out at the end, frantically checking your gear like I did the first time I listened) here:
That’s it for now — hopefully this tides y’all over for a bit. Until next time, amici…
–BS