#thewhitestripes – Eyes Like the Summer

April 9, 2023April 9, 2023

Surfacing for Air: Coal Miners, Cats, and Elephants

I’ve been off burrowing down rabbit holes the past month and change — diving into Pacific campaign documentaries and foreign resistance films during WWII, binging the between war exploits of the folks in Birmingham, and catching up on other compelling revisionist histories — but today felt like a good time to resurface for my primary obsession, serving the non-existent fanbase here to talk music. We’ll start with one that’s been sitting in my queue to talk about for months now, the Bozeman-based Richy Mitch and the Coal Miners. They’re another of the Spotify spillovers, discovered when one of my playlists ended and the algorithm helpfully suggested another artist/song to keep the thread going (fittingly, the playlist I was listening to at the time was the one for this page — Sunshine Radio, available at all times on the right-hand side of the page) and they immediately grabbed my ear.

Sounding a lot like early Local Natives (before that band devolved into the glossy synth pop terrain I loathe so much) these guys have a great sound and laid back vibe. The trio (originally from Colorado, having had an additional member or two prior to their current three-piece setup it seems) consists of singer/songwriter Mitch Cutts, guitarist Nic Haughn, and drummer Jakob Evans who have known each other since high school. At that time their goal (according to their website) was to write and record an album before their senior year concluded, which became their self-recorded, self-titled debut, RMCM, released on their graduation day in May 2017.

It’s a fantastic little album, mostly consisting of Cutts at the piano and Haughn on acoustic guitar, giving it an extremely intimate feel — tracks like “Lucerne” and “Porcelain” are lovely little tunes, drawing you into their quiet cocoons with their beautiful melodies and harmonizations, while those like “Evergreen,” “Sweetwater,” and “Iodine” add in some Bon Iver-style flourishes to positive effect. (To say nothing of absolute kneebucklers like “Lake Missoula” and “St.Paul,” which are the best of a really good bunch.) Their second album Solstice came out the following year after the three had split up and gone off to college, recording the album “on breaks and weekends.” It shows no signs of that disjointedness, sonically sounding like a companion to their debut — the hushed introspection of the title track and “Florissant” could easily have originated there and they sit perfectly next to slightly more upbeat offerings like “ACT!” and “Silo.” (And all benefit from their proximity to songs like “Chakra in Basel,” this album’s absolute beauty.)

Their latest was 2019’s Subliming, which the band says took them “over two years of long distance to create and perfect.” It’s their briefest overall, clocking in just a bit beyond a half hour, but it’s another solid outing. I get glimpses of the Cure from the riff on “WET SOCKS” and a hint of Coldplay on “Somersault” to go along with their more traditional sound on songs like “backburner” and “Bins.” (Or this album’s slice of lush perfection, “BC, Victoria.”)

It’s been mostly quiet since then, with a handful of singles finally appearing this past year. Hopefully that’s a sign another album is on the way soon. In the meantime we’ve thankfully got these three to keep us company, which are a lovely triptych to immerse yourself in this weekend. Start at the beginning with my overall fave and its stunning “St.Paul.”

We’ll shift gears to close with a trio of readers, two remembrances of recent anniversaries and the other of a recent passing. We’ll start with the latter, a really nice writeup of Television frontman and transcendant guitarist Tom Verlaine who passed away at the end of January. The article does a good job of highlighting his importance (if for some reason you’ve never been convinced just by listening to the flawless majesty of the title track from their debut Marquee Moon.) I particularly loved the description here — “There was something nearly pitiless in the precision of his fingers… He seemingly trapped notes, agitating and destabilizing them before letting them go.”

It’s a wonderfully apt characterization from a man/band whose music is undeniably worth remembering. Check out another example of that prowess and another of my faves, the pristine shine of “Prove It” here:

Up next comes the recent 20 year anniversary of Cat Power’s You Are Free, an album I used to spend a lot of time with back in the day and still my favorite of hers overall. The article does a good job reminding us both about the uncertainty surrounding the album (it was her fifth of original material and her first in as many years, having contemplated quitting after the surge in popularity generated by 1998’s Moon Pix) and the ongoing struggle she faced during performances. (Like the author, I never saw her during one of the oft-reported meltdowns or back-to-the-audience affairs, but it was abundantly clear she was not one who thrived in the spotlight at the time — something she seems to have managed to surmount in recent years, thankfully.)

At the time I was more drawn to those haunting piano ballads, just Marshall pouring her heart out into the discomfort and darkness, but those songs had solid counterpoints this time with more muscular, slightly angrier tracks like “Free,” “Speak for Me,” and “He War.” Those got her more radio play and made for a livelier show, but it was (and is) always those ballads that stopped you in your tracks. From the opening “I Don’t Blame You” to tracks like “Fool,” and “Babydoll,” Marshall regularly reminds us of this dynamic from the piece — “[she] digs deep into the depths of human desperation and depravity, but she always makes it sound so beautiful. Marshall’s voice — soft, honeyed, always somewhere flickering in the distance — still casts its spell even when she’s singing in an expensive studio.”

Nothing highlights that better than her flawless cover of Michael Hurley’s “Werewolf,” a track whose brilliance is directly disproportional to the smoldering sensuousness and ferocity she quietly conveys. She more than makes the song her own and it remains a highlight on a really good album. Give it a listen here:

Last of the readers is the writeup of the White Stripes’ masterful monolith, Elephant, which also turned 20 recently. This one represents the brash, unabashed half of our anniversaries, every bit as loud and punishing as Marshall’s was quiet and soothing, and man what an album it is. This was the Stripes’ massive, undeniable swing for the fences and geezus did they nail it. As the article reminds us, it STARTS with “Seven Nation Army” — as clear and unequivocal an opening statement as you’re likely to receive. There’s no slowly slipping into the album, letting the listener adjust to their surroundings before punching them in the face by the third or fourth song. No, this was a both barrels blast to the face from the outset, throwing the listener into a shark-infested wave pool with a suit full of chum. “If you can survive this, you can survive anything…” they seem to be saying, almost daring you to level up as much as they had. And if you manage to meet them in the stratosphere, it’s a hell of a trip through the heavens.

Besides that monster of an earworm “Army” there are innumerable other headwreckers on display — there’s Jack’s blistering solo in the rollercoaster ride of “Black Math,” the facemelting gospel chorus at the end of “There’s No Home for you Here.” The sex god swagger of “Ball and Biscuit’s” seven minute duration balanced by the breathless, all out sprint of “Hypnotize’s” sub-two minute span. The deranged glee of “Girl, You Have no Faith in Medicine” with its unexpected delight at shouting “acetaminophen” at full volume. There’s nary a bad note to be found (although I, like the author, also tend to skip the closer, the power and perfection of the album having long since been cemented by then.)

The pair would never reach these heights again, leaning into the stranger aspects of their sound on 2005’s Get Behind me Satan before closing out strong on 2007’s Icky Thump, which recaptured some of this one’s thunder before they broke up, just in far smaller doses. (And Jack himself would repeatedly show the true value of Meg on his subsequent solo outings, working with potentially more technically skilled drummers, but never coming close to the primal bashing and emotion generated by his former partner.)

Thankfully we’ve still got things like this to go back to, aptly named monsters that allow us revel in past glories and joy no matter how many times we return to them. As the article notes, “An elephant is a noble beast with a long memory, and maybe that’s how the White Stripes saw themselves — history-minded congregants carrying the flame for dying traditions on a crass and heedless age. But an elephant is also a big motherfucker who will stomp you to death, and that’s what we hear on “Seven Nation Army.” (And the rest of the album, for that matter.)

Crank up that insane choir in the aforementioned “Home” and see if you survive:

We’ll close with one last item, a new song from another old fave, fittingly returning after a long spell in the dark. The band are the legendary Underworld, those UK electroheads who’ve been giving us amazing tunes for well over 30 years now. They’re back with new material, their first since 2019’s very cool Drift project, which found the duo releasing new songs/art/videos every week for the entire year. That was by and large another solid affair, but they’ve been quiet since then, only recently resurfacing for some live shows where they debuted some new tracks. One of those is this one, a front to back banger of old, which is hopefully a sign that more is coming from the pair soon. In the meantime, enjoy “and the colour red” here:

That’s all for now — until next time…
-BS

July 4, 2021July 4, 2021

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Insta Replay

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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