Even though I haven’t posted in too long, I’ve had quite a lot spinning through my iPod as of late:

Of Montreal – Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destoyer?  - 9/10. I must confess, I was perilously late hopping on Of Montreal’s bandwagon, but I’ve been pleasantly amazed by Kevin Barnes’s expertly composed funk/indie/disco/rock mix… would easily be in last year’s top five albums.

Beach House – Devotion - 7/10. Think shoegaze pop made in Hiwaii, minus the ukelele. Everytime I play this album, visions of dancers in flowers and palm skirts flash before my eyes… not at all unpleasant.

Mastodon – Leviathan - 5/10. Let’s just say that a concept album based on Moby Dick sounded fascinating to me. However, boring vocals ruined this record, as well as heavy metal/grindcore powerchords and riffs that never truly escape the genre.

The National Lights – The Dead Will Walk, Dear - 9.5/10 – The best way to describe The National Lights might be to think of a horror film, you know that one in which the bad guy wins in the end, killing the protagonist, yet you still like it and don’t know why? This album is like that – and no, it’s not depressing goth, emo, or hardcore. It’s an indie-folk album that juxtaposes dark, dark lyrics with summertime acoustic ditties. Possibly the best album of last year that I didn’t get to.

Sleater-Kinney – The Woods - 8.5/10. Now defunct, Sleater-Kinney rocks with Led Zeppelin flair and riotgrrl power. Fantastic riffs and a hefty dash of old-school punk spirit fuel this album. If you have any appreciation at all for real rock ‘n’ roll, check this out.

If you’re the kind of person who is easily bothered by sugarless music, then Chris Robley is not for you. And even if you aren’t, The Drunken Dance of Modern Man in Love still may not be right for you. It’s like a cholesterol medication-there may be side effects. About the song, “A Vague Notion of Nothing Much,” Robley said, “I guess I think of these things and then wonder how I can make them the most cruel.” Robley bases his songs around characters, with varying viewpoints from song to song. His high, ghostly tenor floats through the album with a heavy dose of winsomeness.

It’s evident from the opening lines of the first track, “Culture Jammer,” that Robley is interested in giving his listeners a full-on experience. Musically, the song is five times as complicated as what you’d expected from any songwriter other than Sufjan Stevens, with banjos, horns, guitars, and clangy drums. The song has a jazz spirit that makes it move. “Gaslight Girl” is a beautiful instrumental evocative of Baja’s most coherent moments, with softly plucked strings and chilly leads.

“A Vague Notion of Nothing Much” tells the story of an unhappy couple who are about to have a baby but don’t want one, while the lesbians next door want a child: “The lesbians next door/are loving hard…/they want a baby/we don’t want one anymore.” The song is full of sexual tension, delivered to you by Robley’s smooth falsetto: “Hot and cold/it’s all degress/turn around get on your knees…” Again, there’s no sugarcoating here, and while that’s to be admired, I sort of wished for something slightly more poetic. However, the song ends with a hunting vocal outro that is one of Robley’s greatest talents.

Robley seems to show off a different side of his musical talents with every song, and on “Centaurea,” one of the album’s centerpieces, it really shines. He reaches down into the lower registers of voice for world-weary feel, and tells the tale of a Wolrd War II soldier as the song sweeps with a baroque, Spanish feel. On “N.E. Brazee,” he trades his trusty acoustic for an electric guitar, peeling off hot Santana-esque riffs like a demon’s trying to get out of his guitar. “Faulkner’s South,” is one of the most beautifully melancholic songs I’ve heard all year. It captures the genuine feel of the south-flooded with humidity and heat, manners and prejudice, all as subtly composed as fine wine. You know how well-written a song is when you’re not sure why it works; only that you could never write one like it if you tried.

 ”The Love I Fake” treads down the familiar path of “Vague Notion,” narrating the story of an unhappy prostitute. Robley never takes the trouble to invent a resolution, singing, “I wish I could feel the love I fake/wish you could see the faces you make.” “Aubade” is an uncomfortable musical concoction, trembling on the wire between a major and a minor key. 

It’s clear the Robley’s a major talent, a force to be reckoned with. Once he’s refined his sound and songwriting a bit more, he’s going to write a masterpiece. Check this out if you’re an indie fan looking for a good singer-songwriter not named Sufjan or Sam Beam.

 

 

 

 

So, it might appear that Ben and I have fallen off the face of the earth. We haven’t. Or at least, I haven’t, I can’t exactly speak with complete authority about Ben. [Wink, wink] Over the past month I’ve spent two weeks in Michigan, a week in Illinois (yes, Sufjan has been with me), come home for a few days, and I’m in Seattle for the week. Seattle is wonderful – I’m going to be going to school at Seattle Pacific University, and the campus is fantastic. So is the town. You can check out my more in-depth post at my other blog (on bookish things), Awake After Hours. Or at least, you can check it out once I write it, which I hope will be soon.

Once I get back, I’ve got a few reviews lined up, and we’ll get back into the swing of things. For now, everyone should check out an excellent grunge/shoegaze band, Great Northern.

High Society is the kind of record that reminds you that when you stick a bunch of talented musicians together, it’s no guarantee that they won’t sound like a tribute band. The Silver Seas really are a talented group of musicians; make no mistake about it. It’s just that this record has been made before. Back when they really were records, you know, on vinyl. I wasn’t around back then, but I’ve pilfered through the annals of classic rock, and I’ve been outside on a sunny day and I know what a mockingbird sounds like. It’s really kind of sad, because High Society feels like a labor of love-the way great records do. It’s just that this labor of love feels like the kind that occurs when a young guitarist sits down and diligently listens to his favorite song over and over in order to learn it.  

Vocalist Daniel Tashian sounds like Steve Miller’s clone. I mean, if you stuck them in the same room you might not know which one Steve Miller really was. (Remember that episode of Sanford and Son where Fred-played by Red Foxx-goes to a Red Foxx look-alike competition, and loses?) The first time I listened to the album‘s cheerful opener, “Country Life” it sounded so familiar I could barely believe I hadn’t heard it before.

Nevertheless, there is good to be found here. Dr. Pibb is almost as good as Dr. Pepper, you know. “She Is Gone,” has a great understated drums, and does a terrific job of exploiting the postmodern effects that made Radiohead’s “Exit Music (For a Film)” such a great song (although to noticeably less creepy effect). And, if you like sitcom theme songs, the opening of “Imaginary Girl” is a mirror image of The Office’s theme song.

“High Society” benefits from Tashian’s ever present 12-string guitars, even though I kept expecting to hear “Time keeps on slippin’, slippin’, into the future…” instead of Tashian’s breezy lyrics. “Catch Yer Own Train” gets up and moves with a grooving bass line, but never escapes sounding familiar, even though I couldn’t quite pin down who I was being reminded of.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that if this album had come out thirty-five years ago, it might’ve been hot stuff. Critics might look back on this album and think, ah, what good times those were and what good music that was to smoke grass to! “Tativille” even uses the same synth effect as “Fly Like an Eagle,” for crying out loud. So why in the world would anyone buy this album? you might be asking. Who throws down their money for this, in this day of lackluster album sales? Most likely, the indie kids who haven’t heard of Steve Miller or any music (besides the Beatles and the Stones) that was actually made in the 60’s. And I suppose that’s okay.

Check out The Silver Seas on myspace: www.myspace.com/thesilverseas

So, Myspace is selling out, huh? Wishing to capitalize on the thirty million unique monthly visitors it receives (and the about million bands), Myspace has partnered with three of the four major labels to create the Myspace Music Service, which sounds like it would be something akin to iTunes or Emusic.

The interesting point that Paste makes is that they’re – to begin with, at least – ignoring the indie labels and artists that made them a home for online music to begin with.

“We hadn’t done a lot in the last year to really innovate our music service,” Myspace CEO De Wolfe told Billboard. “We made a conscious decision to figure out where the Internet was going, where the music industry was going and where should it be going. We started out with the users. We did focus groups and took feedback from our users. Then mocked up what we thought would be the perfect service.”

However, if Myspace brings the indie labels and bands along with the big ones, this could be perfecto. What do you think?

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This is our 100th post!! Hooray!

Sorry about the sparse postage lately. I’ve been down with a rather wretched stomach virus but I think I’m almost back to normal now. But anyhow, I’ve got a couple reviews in the works which you might be watching for – The Mohawk Lodge, Chris Robley, Silver Seas, Baskervilles, Great Northern, and the Swimmers.

You’re so excited now, I’m sure. Well, I’m glad you’re excited. Excitement is a good thing.  

Is anybody else pumped about The Ruins?

Odds are, you know someone who knows someone who’s been on American Idol. Maybe even more than one. And odds are, you’re not as impressed as you used to be when you hear it. You know there’s the whole thing about every person in the world being at least four people away and all that jazz. Well, a buddy of mine told me that a buddy of his had a band that had recently appeared on Conan O’Brien. He told me the band’s name was State Bird. Being interested but not enthralled, I didn’t check the band’s stuff out until I heard I was going to get the opportunity to review their new album, Mostly Ghostly.

I slipped the album into my stereo and heard … a lone accordion and whistling. No rhythm, no nothing. And so begins Mostly Ghostly, one of the most eclectic albums produced in the past thirty years. A bold claim, sure, but these guys live up to it. “I Saw the Light,” is four minutes of pure musical joy, with French horns, CCR-ish guitars, and enough whooping and hollering for a wild circus act. 30-Music.com said “Mostly Ghostly is pretty damn good, in a screwball way,” and they hit the nail on the head. “I Saw the Light” works because it takes a no-holds barred approach to having a heck of a time playing outrageous music in a genre where random music is made all the time but barely ever has reason to.

However, with all the wackiness, the band still finds themselves in familiar territory – religious themes are throughout the music, as can be found in Sufjan Stevens, Danielson and mewithoutYou; its just a slightly more celebratory approach here. State Bird never sinks into the ghetto of moralizing or evangelizing, though. A bit of a concept record, the songs are united by the lyrical theme of leaving everything behind, whether that is love or possessions or sleep. In fact, I suppose it might be better referred to as a theme record-major cohesiveness without necessarily a story.

“Ghost King Pt. 1″ sounds like an old west saloon song with French horns, group vocals, and enough different time signatures to resemble a hardcore song. “A Voice as Old as Fire” returns to the circus-music mode, throwing keyboards and hand-drums into the mix and probably a half-dozen other assorted instruments. “Ghost King Pt. 2″ takes a less frantic approach, with ukulele and slide-guitar. Coming at the perfect of the record, it saves the album from being one huge folk-party.

The latter half of the album at times stumbles as the band tries to walk the fine line between pomp and sincerity, with “Streams of Light” being a prime example. The song starts with nothing but vocals and chimes, which is more than a bit awkward, explodes in the middle with a cacophony of sound, and then ends abruptly. “The Golden Glowing Mask” is easily the best of the latter batch of songs, featuring an unidentified guest female vocal (the copy of the album I received was in a strange but cool package that had no liner notes) that matches well with the male vocal. The album goes out on an awkward note, with what sounds like a mix of Led Zeppelin’s “Moby Dick” and a rather wild Indian war chant; and then the album closer, a well composed track named “Hair of the Buffalo,” that features some of the most psychedelic whistling I’ve ever heard.

On Mostly Ghostly, State Bird is treading at the vanguard of indie-folk, even if they may not have quite found themselves yet. If you appreciate left of center folk, this’ll be right up your alley.

Check out State Bird on myspace: www.myspace.com/statebirdmusic

Beautiful song. Take a listen.