Author: jeremyfingertips

“Electricity + Drums” – the Apparitions

From its almost startling, stripped-down, Frank Zappa-meets-the-Stones opening, “Electricity + Drums” picks up full-out rock’n’roll flavor, but with any number of idiosyncratic turns and shifts. I’m particularly enjoying how the song blends the straight-ahead ambiance of a basic, three-chord rocker while actually sneaking a lot more into its simple-seeming container. The overall sound seems familiar in a rootsy-rocky somewhat-Southern sort of way and yet also slightly off and unusual, like when you dream you’re in your own house, and you know it’s your own house even as it doesn’t look like your house really looks. Stuff keeps happening: different vocalists show up (three of the band members sing), chords modulate, guitars churn and squeak in unexpected combinations (the band also features three guitarists). I don’t think I’ve often for instance heard these two sounds in one song: the down-and-dirty, feedbacky, “get ready to rock” electric guitar sound at :33 and the siren-like octave accents that chime in around 2:18. They are from two entirely different rock-guitar universes. The Apparitions are a five-man band from Lexington, KY; their second CD, As This Is Futuristic, was released last month on Machine Records. The MP3 is available via the band’s site. (MP3 no longer there, but Heather has posted it at I Am Fuel You Are Friends, so I hope she doesn’t mind the link here.)

“Sonic Parts” – Khoiba

Slow, moody electro-pop from the Prague-based quartet Khoiba (apparently pronounced ko-EE-ba). Listen to how vocalist Ema Brabcova keeps us paradoxically enveloped and off-balance through the purposeful meanderings of the song’s subtle yet robust melody. The quiet verse–based around the always lovely alternation between a minor one and major four chord–appears to resist a time signature, which right away tells me that we’re dealing with something interesting. (Standard-issue electronica, after all, is all about beats; beats are all about steady time signatures–in other words, a regular, symmetrical rhythm, however fuzzed-up and complicated by programmed effects.) Electronica accents, subtle at first, more up front as the song develops, are therefore used for their aural contributions, not just for their rhythms. Even as the chorus acquires a steadier beat, Brabcova’s plaintive, hanging-off-the-beat, fully human voice (listen to how she lets it crack and wobble, softly but definitively, whenever it wants or needs to) dominates almost hypnotically. “Sonic Parts” is a song off the band’s debut CD, Nice Traps, released in September on Streetbeat Records. The MP3 is available via the band’s site. (Khoiba, by the way, is an invented name, which strikes me as a particularly brilliant move for a band in the Google era.)

“Blue Skies” – the Young Republic

I think it’s safe to say that not many rock songs have begun with this particular combination of strings, flute, and drums. It sounds like a small orchestra has arrived to serenade you out your window (and here you didn’t even know the sun was out and the flowers were blooming). It’s a charming, earnest bit of acoustic fuss and bother, leading right into a quick, lightly-stepping piece of pop, full of expansive melodic lines and grand ensemble energy. Vocalist Julian Saporiti uses his thin, guileless voice with great verve, as if physically buttressed by all the musicians who’ve agreed to play along. The net effect is a rather precise amalgem of Belle and Sebastian and the Arcade Fire, but only achieved by a band not attempting specifically to sound like that at all. The Young Republic is Boston-based nonet (and how often do I get to use that word?); they once in fact had 11 members, and all are Berkee College of Music students. “Blue Skies” comes from the band’s new, eight-song Modern Plays CD. The MP3 is up on the band’s site. Thanks to Bruce at Some Velvet Blog for the head’s up.

“Star Witness” – Neko Case

A mysterious, echoey, and rewarding waltz from the highly-regarded Case, itinerant singer/songwriter and member of the indie “supergroup” the New Pornographers. What depths she hits here all across the board: her voice at once lithe and husky, the subtly indelible melodies, the expert arrangements, and (I always love this) the array of extra touches that round the music out so fetchingly—the amusement-park howl at the beginning, the reverby guitar that accompanies, the organic drum sound, the vivid but elusive lyrics. Case sketches a story I can’t quite follow but it doesn’t seem to end happily. Don’t miss the yodeling leap she takes so unexpectedly and perfectly at around 3:42—just another touch that keeps you both engaged and mystified. There’s something in the whole thing, from her vocal presence to the unearthly vibe, that puts me in the mind of the great Syd Straw, from another era of indie/alternative rock—so if any of you know and love Straw I’m pretty sure this is going to be a big winner for you as well. “Star Witness” is a song from Case’s forthcoming CD, the intriguingly titled Fox Confessor Brings the Flood, scheduled for release in early March on Anti Records. The MP3 is available via Better Propaganda.

“Meet Me Here” – Loveninjas

Every now and then a bit of lo-fi sneaks through the usually lo-fi-resistant gates here. But how could I resist a chorus like this? I couldn’t. So perhaps we can all forgive the thin, filtered vocals and tinny electronic percussion that the decidedly offbeat Swedish trio Loveninjas employs on this track to glory in the pop-heavenly melodies. As undeveloped an aural landscape as we’ve got here, these guys give us the full three-part hook: two different ones in the verse, and then the glory of that killer chorus. Apparently this quirky Swedish outfit specializes in goofy/naughty English lyrics, but this song seems genuinely sweet (although it probably isn’t). Apparently, too: “Loveninjas is not really a band. It’s a concept.” So says the web site; it continues: “I was playing with a small electronic piano in the autumn of 2004 when a nice melody evolved. ‘Sweet Geisha Love’ was about the dilemma of a young, female assassin; to kill or to make love. Now that I had a song I figured I might as well start a fake band. I decided on writing about death, sex and Japanese girls only. It’s a good way stimulate creativity.” It’s signed by a guy named Tor; the three who went on to perform the songs live wear costumes, including ninja-style masks. Sweden is an interesting place. “Meet Me Here” is available via the Loveninjas web site; it’s difficult to tell if it’s been released on a CD at this point but I’m guessing not.

“Chinese Rug” – Wes McDonald

There’s something refreshingly old-fashioned enlivening this low-key but still hard-driving number. Except for some recurring film noir-ish/femme-fatale whispering, nothing unusual goes on here at all: the song just rocks, McDonald pushing it forward with an assured sort of throaty, snarly growl that’s one part Steve Earle, one part Graham Parker, one part balding-guy-with-scaggly-hair-in-jeans-who-maybe-looks-like-a-plumber. Seems to me McDonald has Earle’s natural ear for a quick melodic hook as well–look how effortlessly the chorus kicks some seriously catchy butt. A refugee from one of the U.S.’s original hotbeds of alternative rock (Athens, Georgia), McDonald lives now in the hotbed of not very much (Birmingham, Alabama). After a stint in a very Athensy “jangle-rock” band called the Ohms, he went on to record three solo CDs without acquiring too wide a following. This time around he’s enlisted the help of Ken Coomer, ex- of Wilco and Uncle Tupelo, who helped out with the production, also acquiring a bit of a PR help along the way. Not that there’s anything wrong with that: we’ve gotta hear about this stuff somehow. “Chinese Rug” is a song from the forthcoming CD 1:50 In The Furnace, scheduled for release in April on Skybucket Records.

“Fraud in the ’80s” – Mates of State

For a keyboard-and-drum duo, Mates of State manage to build a warm and involving sound. The key, I think, is their willingness (and ableness) to be truly musical rather than try to hang too much (an entire song) on too little (beats and maybe a short riff); everywhere you turn this song has been fleshed out and thought through—there’s genuine meat on its catchy and likable bones. Listen for instance to the central keyboard line in the main part of the introduction: most songs that float a melodic riff like that will run it for two measures and vamp it a while, pounding it into your head until the song actually begins. Here, however, the keyboard is playing an actual melody that extends a full eight measures, leading directly into the start of the verse. Singer/keyboardist Kori Gardner has an upfront but soft-edged voice and sings with a fetching looseness, playing with notes in just the right way, adding flourishes that draw attention to the melody rather than her vocal prowess. I like how the throbbing, Laurie Anderson-ish synthesizer we hear in the song’s “pre-intro” returns as the backbone of the bridge that keeps the wonderful chorus at bay until 1:38. Worth the wait, it is, yet even then the song doesn’t stop giving; I especially like the deep, rounded sound that kicks in around 3:22, all fuzzy chords, bashy drums, and now the bass is allowed to stretch out a bit after hiding behind the keyboard most of the song. Oh, and I couldn’t figure out a smooth way to work this into the song description, but note that Gardner and drummer Jason Hammel are married. “Fraud in the ’80s” will be on their forthcoming CD Bring It Back, scheduled for release in March on Barsuk Records. The MP3 is hosted on the Barsuk site.

“Jane is Fat” – Oh No! Oh My!

And sometimes it’s one pure thing in a song that slays me, so go figure: in this case it’s the way vocalist/guitarist/bassist/etc. Greg Barkley unaccountably, idiosyncratically, and yet irrestistibly stretches out the last syllable at the end of the first line of the verse by ricocheting a fifth up and down and up and down. Against that crisp strumming background it’s oddly brilliant. Then notice (well really how will you not notice?) how at the end of the verse (balancing out the bouncing?) he holds just one note far longer than might be expected, or even otherwise desired, given the shrillness of his upper register. The song teeters dangerously on the edge of lo-fi purgatory during what appears to be the chorus, with its unintelligible, sloppy-gang call-and-response and tweeting synthesizer, but, no worries, it holds together thanks largely to the sharp dynamism of the acoustic guitar. There’s an extra payoff in the coda following the second chorus, in which Barkley’s warbly tenor reveals an unexpected depth and poignancy, against a spaghetti-western guitar line. Don’t ask, but it works. Oh No! Oh My! is a trio from Austin, but two of them appear to be living in Nashville now, and they only just recently changed their name from the Jolly Rogers (decidedly less ’00s/indie-sounding, huh?). “Jane is Fat” is from a nine-song self-produced CD made available this past October when they were still the Jolly Rogers; the MP3 is available through their as-yet still-pirate-ish web site. Apparently a full-fledged CD is in the works and will be released soon. Thanks to Catbirdseat for the lead.

“Come Up” – Devics

This one’s just gorgeous. Don’t be deceived by the lounge-like piano and drum sound at the beginning if you don’t like a lounge-like piano and drum sound; once singer Sara Lov opens her mouth, we’re transported way way beyond surface-level cocktail-hour piffle. Such sweet strong character emerges as Lov breathes music into the words over Dustin O’Halloran’s assured touch at the piano; when she arrives at the simple sad sing-along chorus, the piece has acquired a melancholy grandeur not often heard from the indie world. As noted last time Devics were featured here, their music reminds me, admirably, of Over the Rhine: Lov has a lot of Karin Bergquist’s aching soul, with a less idiosyncratic timbre, while O’Halloran accompanies her with a sensitivity akin to the great Linford Detweiler. “Come Up” is a track from the L.A.-based duo’s next CD Push the Heart, to be released in early March on Filter US Recordings, a label associated with Filter Magazine, which hosts the MP3.

“Ramblin’ Man” – Isobel Campbell and Mark Lanegan

Every now and then, for reasons I can neither understand nor articulate, a swampy, bluesy romp sounds like just the right thing to me. Normally I don’t connect to this stuff. In this case, however, I’ve no doubt that the crazy combination of Mark Lanegan’s deep gruffly voice (doesn’t he sound like Steve Earle doing a Johnny Cash imitation? sort of?) and Isobel Campbell‘s quintessential whisper-fairy lilt is too brilliantly odd to overlook. Around this vocal odd couple is built a ghost-town shuffle, complete with a deep twangy guitar, whip crack accents, and, at the perfect moment, a lonesome whistle. Lanegan some may remember as the voice of Screaming Trees, the grunge-pop growlers from Washington state, and sometime member of Queens of the Stone Age; Campbell, from Glasgow, spent six years or so as cellist and vocalist with Belle and Sebastian. Somehow or other they decided to collaborate on an album together and this Hank Williams cover is one of the results. “Ramblin’ Man,” originally available on an EP at the end of last year, will be on the CD Ballad of the Broken Seas, to be released later this month on V2 Records. The MP3 is available via Better Propaganda.

“Stay” – the Attorneys

If Queen had been a power pop garage band, they might’ve sounded like this. So it’s big and brash and just this side of over the top (Toto wasn’t all bad, were they?), but I am genetically unable to resist the kind of chorus this one breaks into, never mind the melodies that lead us there: one four and five chords up the wazoo, it’s just irresistible. The Attorneys, a trio from Brooklyn, appear to be gleeful pop ransackers, ready and willing to combine sounds from the ’60s, ’70s, and ’80s (heck, maybe they sneaked the ’90s in there too) into one juicy slice of merry bombast, with slashing guitars and histrionic harmonies to spare, all the while careening along that fine line that separates pure pop from ripe cheese. The band has recently self-released its first CD, entitled Sparrow Gardens/Pencil Factory, a 19-song extravaganza divided into what are called two “chapters”; “Stay” leads off the “Pencil Factory” section.

“Sleepless” – Philip Fogarty

Okay so this sounds like Peter Gabriel a bit. Maybe a lot. But the more I listen, the more it doesn’t matter, for a couple of reasons. First of all, the song positively shines with an austere, semi-minimalist beauty—Fogarty wastes few notes and fewer sounds in creating an aural landscape suffused with tension and yearning. This comes across as not so much a standard song as a meditation around one central motif—the part where he sings “And I’m wide awake”—that happens to be perfectly placed and pitched enough to carry the entire enterprise. After I listened a few times the melody there started to give me the shivers. Listen too for the elegant, chime-like piano punctuations, which deepen the musical effect. The other reason why the Peter Gabriel echo doesn’t matter to me is because, well–how many people out there are busy sounding like Peter Gabriel? Pretty much nobody, as everyone seems to be busy trying to sound like the Gang of Four. But come to think of it, Peter Gabriel was putting out a lot of really good music there in the late ’70s that was edgy in its own way; he had a lot more to offer than just being your sledgehammer. Fogarty is an Irish musician with one previous CD to his name (1999’s Endangered Breed); “Sleepless” is a track off his new Short Stories EP, a digital-only release that came out in December and is available via his web site.

“Robert J.” – 13ghosts

At one level this is the sort of comfy-sounding, down-home strummy-guitar song that often does not catch my ear. And yet I know there is a variant of this sort of thing that I like, and “Robert J.” from the Birmingham, Alabama-based 13ghosts is a good example of this variant, and I’m sitting and listening and trying my best first to ascertain and then to describe what, to me, separates a non-descript rootsy-country-Americana song from a standout track. The word that arises as I attempt to figure this out is “tension.” A song can sound simple and laid-back and yet be suffused with depth and characte–and tension is what makes all the difference. How, in this case, is that tension achieved? From the start we hear a strikingly plain acoustic guitar, upfront and exposed, no rhythm section, no steel guitar accents, and it strikes me that in this case the slower rather than the faster strum sounds more vulnerable, more real–tenser. Likewise singer Brad Armstrong’s voice, the next thing we hear, has a vulnerable, semi-breaking sort of warmth that adds tension to the sound. Further, we have the melody, which extends beyond the four measures commonly heard with this sort of strummer–the verse instead rambles on through eight measures, and that lengthening, yes, fosters tension. Even as more instruments enter and the pace picks up, everything stays crisp and precise, which is also come to think of it an aspect of the tension. Finally, the lyrics bring it home, telling a concrete yet also elusive tale, the words balancing between the offhand and the profound: “His fingernails were a mess/All the dirt and promises/he’d been clinging to for so long.” “Robert J.” is one of 21 songs on 13ghosts’ sprawling Cicada CD, which was released locally in the fall of 2004; it was reissued for national release on Skybucket Records in late November 2005. The MP3 is available via the Skybucket site.

“Carly (Goddess of Death)” – the Capes

Spiffy energetic Britpop with that great good combination of skill and goofiness that often separates the wheat from the chaff in this particular corner of the rock’n’roll world. From the sharp, appealing guitar riff in the intro, the song successfully blends an almost-but-not-quite dissonant slash into a delightful pillow of a song. And as for that big fat irresistible hook in the chorus, I’m enjoying it even more for its strong echo of the great old Jam (them again!; see last week’s entry) single “Eton Rifles”: consciously or not (and remember, non-U.K. visitors, the Jam was truly a huge huge band in England back in the day), the Capes manage to transform what was a menacing melody into something much warmer and fuzzier, and offer a long-awaited musical resolution to the ominous, open-chorded hook the Jam originally created. And not to harp too often on length, but the fact that this one clocks in under three minutes is to me another sign of pop greatness. “Carly” is a song off the Capes’ debut CD, Hello, released in October on Hard Soul Records. The MP3s is available via the Hard Soul site.

“At Least Like Melissa” – Sara Culler

Sara Culler first came to my attention through her compelling work on David Fridlund’s impressive Amaterasu CD from last year. Apparently she and Fridlund have worked together over there in Sweden for quite a while (she sometimes sang backup vocals with his band David and the Citizens) and are a couple, romantically speaking, as well. Culler has recently started blogging and putting some of her solo songs up online. This is a curious one to be sure, beginning with its off-balance title; Culler is clear to emphasize the “like” and this changes everything doesn’t it–it’s not a comparison anymore, it’s an exhortation, and a somewhat desperate-sounding one if you think about it. The feeling of desperation is borne out both musically and lyrically; the song pivots upon an ongoing interplay between reserve and unhingedness. Me, I’m on board from Culler’s first Sinead O’Connor-like bursts of emotion as she spits out single syllables at the end of the first verse, and how that is immediately followed by an overflow of spilling words in the first line of the chorus. Suppressed violence somehow lurks around the edges here–this isn’t the quiet gentle thing it might seem. Culler as a solo artist is unsigned; the MP3, hosted via the record label that puts Fridlund’s stuff out, is available through her blog.

“Court Report” – Little Man Tate

Borrowing something basic and anthemic from the Jam and their progeny (Blur in particular), Little Man Tate is not however content being simply mod or neo-mod; instead, this Sheffield foursome draws satisfyingly from rock’n’roll’s many decades–I hear an unexpected shot of late ’60s/early ’70s blues-rock in the mix as well as the itchier, garage-y bashings prevalent here in the mid-’00s. And yet check out the lyrics: “Well he’s a cross dresser honey, he fights for his team/He dishes out a kickin’ with a thong under his jeans/He’s a cross dresser honey and it don’t seem right.” The song manages to capture the goofy-poignant-violent goings-on with unexpected finesse, from the barroom harmonies finishing the lyric “Switches channels to Eastenders/Cleans his house in his red suspenders” to the pitch-perfect, Paul Wellerian way the words “skinhead cross dresser caught” scans in the chorus. Named, I suppose, after the wonderful 1991 Jodie Foster movie of the same name, Little Man Tate is unsigned and as yet without even a self-released EP or CD; “Court Report” is one of eight free and legal MP3s the band has available on its web site.

“Blood and Marrow” – Amandine

This song’s slow sad accordion-laced swing puts me in the mind of the Band, as does the tune’s intriguingly timeless sound. Lyrics about fathers and mothers and blood and mourning deepen the effect gracefully. Amandine is a Swedish quartet featuring not only guitars and drums but glockenspiel, trumpet, and theremin (!) along with the evocative accordion, and yet truly one of the best instruments on display is Olof Gidlöf’s tender high tenor, which sounds at once firm and fragile, weaving in and out of the spotlight with the other distinctive sounds. Nothing happens in a hurry, and nothing sounds unusual if you’re seeking sheer novelty; what is, however, unusual is how Amandine does not confuse restraint with boredom, or vice-versa. The song moves slowly, but it does move: chords change, melodies unfold, there are hooks and climaxes and knowing touches throughout. “Blood and Marrow” can be found on the band’s debut CD, This Is Where Our Hearts Collide, released in November on Fat Cat Records, a British label with a penchant for signing Scandanavian bands. The MP3 is hosted on the band’s site. Thanks to Thomas Bartlett at Salon for the lead here.

“America’s Boy” – Broadcast

On the surface “America’s Boy” seems the sort of groove-based song I don’t readily connect to, as I tend to keep hankering for a sturdier melody to keep me happy. And yet there was something here that piqued my interest from the outset—first and foremost the soaring, New Order-ish synthesizer line, and how it is immediately complicated on the one hand by its specifically changing character (as it reaches its full interval—a sixth, I think—it morphs into something vast and choral-like) and on the other hand by the starchy, blippy way the electronics are continually stretched and scratched out of their pure tones into something harsher and yet also more compelling. Vocalist Trish Keenan’s appealing voice—somewhat but not completely deadpan—doesn’t float on top as much as find itself sandwiched in between the semi-heavenly synthesizer above and the semi-deranged clockwork electronica below; the effect is at once earthier and weirder than standard-issue electronica. The song’s single-like length–a brisk 3:34–is another thing that gives me a pop hand-hold through some of the oddness. Once a quintet, Broadcast is now a duo, just Keenan and bassist James Cargill; “America’s Boy” is a song off their Tender Buttons CD, released in August 2005 on Warp Records. The MP3 is available via Insound.

Fingertips will be taking a break for the HOLIDAYS (there are more than one, you know!–Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, New Year’s Day, you name it); this is therefore the last “This Week’s Finds” update for 2005. When next we meet again it will be Tuesday, January 3, of all things. In the spirit of the season, I offer an extra song this week. Hope all is sweet and peachy with all of you as this most excellent interesting year winds down and yet another begins. See you in ’06….

“Smile” – Stone Jack Jones

Spacey, melancholy, arty folktronica: Leonard Cohen meets Portishead at Laurie Anderson’s house. When it comes to the sort of noodly atmospherics employed in this nutty little song, I know that it’s hard to differentiate cool/noodly from dumb/noodly–I mean, is the wavery, spitty sort of trumpet meandering in the background a stroke of genius or completely random? The answer is probably both, which doesn’t help. One of the ways I see my way through foggy aesthetics like this is to latch onto small moments, and if there are enough of them in a given song, I presume the whole thing is working. The small moments here include: the simple, plaintive piano refrain that holds the structure of the song up; the first line of the song (I love songs with great first lines): “Let’s pretend this is an opening/Let’s pretend this is a door”; the aforementioned trumpet; the deadpan female backup vocals; the construction-site percussion; and the fact that the song sounds exactly like the opposite of a smile, and yet simultaneously manages to provoke one, somehow. Stone Jack Jones is a musician from Nashville who’s been taken under the wing of producer Roger Moutenot (Yo La Tengo, Sleater-Kinney). “Smile” is from his forthcoming CD, Bluefolk, to be released in February on Fictitious Records. The MP3 is available via Jones’ MySpace.com page.

“Air” – the Owls

Sweet floating misery in pop form from a Minneapolis-based foursome. I’ll admit to being something of a sucker for list-like lyrics; in this case songwriter Maria May appears to be free-associating her way through heartbreak; when she gets to “No header, no footer/No girl, no boy,” I am charmed for good. (“No hand to put my handshake in”: also charming.) “There is only air/Where I used to care,” which is the lyric in the chorus, is by the way a pretty powerful way of communicating post-breakup malaise. While normally I might feel the need for a bit more development in a song than this truly airy number offers, on the other hand, I could probably rationalize why the breezy repetition is thematically appropriate. Or something like that. I also really like the disconcertingly unusual use of male backing vocals under a female lead; why isn’t this appealing sound used more often? “Air” is from an eight-song EP entitled Our Hopes and Dreams, released last year on Magic Marker Records. The MP3 is available via the Magic Marker site.

“My Kingdom for a Trundle Bed” – Bound Stems

A jaunty, toothsome bit of complex pop from an interesting quintet from Chicago. The vague, lightly swinging intro barely hints at the muscular, tumbly song to follow. I like how the melody is at once central and changeable: the way the words pump out with an ahead-of-the-beat syncopation, the exact notes changing verse to verse even as the overall melodic essence is strong and sure. And lots of words there are indeed, in a relatively short song; and while the meaning is elusive, and while I don’t often get all that caught up in puzzling lyrics out, in this case they seem worthy and intriguing and appear to add up to a bittersweet tale of a broken relationship–which I intuit largely from adding the title to the lyrics (it would seem the narrator has to sleep on the floor for the night in his ex’s apartment). “My Kingdom for a Trundle Bed” is a song from the EP The Logic of Building the Body Plan, released last month on Flameshovel Records. The MP3 is from the Flameshovel site. (Be aware that the song cuts off a bit abruptly at the end.)

“I Feel Like a Fading Light” – Kim Taylor

With a voice mixing Ricki Lee Jones and Karin Bergquist (Over the Rhine), Kim Taylor wins me over with this simple, lo-fi strummer-with-an-attitude. Given the sort of year we’ve all had, this seems about the most appropriate seasonal song I could offer, even as it’s not actually a seasonal song at all. I love how the Florida-born, Cincinnati-based Taylor subverts the girl-with-guitar model with such an insistent, percussive number; even the guitar has an upfront, twang-ish but not really twangy sound that exudes tension rather than easy listening–even as, at the same time, the melody is comfortably catchy, her sweet-weary voice a wonderful instrument in and of itself. This is not standard singer/songwriter mush, and the world is a better place for it. “I Feel Like a Fading Light” was released as a single in August, and is available via Taylor’s web site. Thanks to Largehearted Boy for the head’s up. Merry Christmas to all (“whether you celebrate it or not,” as per The Daily Show) and to all a good night.

“Nervous” – Tessitura

Jonathan Williams sings in a warm, buzzy voice, rendered warmer and buzzier by his fetching tendency to sing in octave harmonies with himself. He further accompanies himself with clean, patient acoustic guitar licks; there’s something of Pink Floyd’s stately acoustic side in the air here, particularly when Williams spins out a line with such a haunting convergence of melody and lyric as this one: “Even in a dream/Things could seem far too real.” There, I think, we arrive at the song’s center of gravity, its point of pure allurement–it’s not just the nice chord he reaches on the word dream, it’s the way the word “dream” stretches out almost unaccountably, with a mysterious, standing-still sort of rising and falling. This is a real song, not just a guy with a nice voice strumming a nice guitar. (Not enough people these days seem to be able to differentiate between beautiful-sounding and actually beautiful, says me, and there we are yet again back at Ives’ great distinction between manner and substance, but I’ll steer clear of that particular soapbox for now.) Tessitura is a side project for Williams, who is otherwise a member of the fine, endearingly-named Cincinnati-based ensemble The Spectacular Fantastic. “Nervous” is a song on a new free-to-download split single featuring both bands; it can also be found on Tessitura’s recently released full-length CD, On the Importance of Being Confused.




“Juicebox” – the Strokes

Why does this 3:17 second song, with its hard-driving “Peter Gunn”-ish intro, seem so hard to get a handle on, intermittently harsh and irritating, and yet so simultaneously compelling? It’s not just because singer Julian Casablancas is singing without the filter he put his voice through to create the band’s trademark sound on their first two CDs; and it’s also not just because he spends a bit of time actually sort of screeching. What I think is going on here is the result of an unusual songwriting effect: the melody undergoes a series of purposeful time shifts so that in each of the first three sections of the song, Casablancas is singing half as fast as the previous section. (When this is done at all, it tends to be done only with two sections rather than three.) Then, after the slowest of the three, he doubles back to the middle pace, and that’s where the song hits its stride and delivers its best hook (the Stones-copping “You’re so cold” part) and coolest moments (the subsequent guitar solo). If you don’t tune in to the time trick, you might hear this song as more disjointed than it actually is; that “Juicebox” is disjointed at best and dreadful at worst is certainly what most online critics have decided, because it’s never their job to assume that a band actually knows more about music than they do. “Juicebox” is the first free download from the band’s upcoming CD First Impressions of Earth, their third, due out January 3 on RCA Records. Thanks to the gang at Glorious Noise for the lead on this one.




“Rise Up With Fists!” – Jenny Lewis

Jenny Lewis’s vocal charisma is a powerful powerful thing. She’s got that hyper-present Debby Harry sort of open-mouthed fullness, a way of singing that sounds like she’s just talking; and yet where Harry used a constant sheen of icy irony to keep her distance, Lewis, while still keeping her distance, seems infused with some messy mixture of pain and passion that makes it feel like she’s always right there in the room with you. After hitting the indie big-time last year with her band, Rilo Kiley, and their assured, well-regarded More Adventurous CD, Lewis has in fact sought the additional adventure of releasing a solo CD–called Rabbit Fur Coat, it’s due for release in January on Conor Oberst’s Team Love Records. As this track indicates, the album is steeped in a sort of rootsy, countrified, white-woman-soul sound: a Laura Nyro for the new millennium sort of thing, complete with the Kentucky-born Watson Twins harmonizing their hearts out in the background. The MP3 is available via the Team Love site.

“In State” – Kathleen Edwards

If you already know Kathleen Edwards, you’ll be pleased to discover that she’s recently made ten full songs, five from each of her two CDs, available on her web site as free and legal MP3s. If you don’t already know her, use the opportunity to rectify the situation pronto. While Edwards is often compared, logically enough, to Lucinda Williams (the sweet-rough voice, the alt-country-americana vibe), what slayed me when I first heard her mighty first CD, Failer (2003), was how much she channeled Neil Young in his Crazy Horse mode. You maybe didn’t expect it from a skinny 25-year-old from Ottawa; then again, as I’ve discovered time and again, do not underestimate Canada as an endless source of powerful music. The revelatory “In State,” its muscular Tom Petty-ish-ness lit up by Edwards’ heart-melting voice and a ripping arrangement, is the opening track on her excellent follow-up release, Back to Me, which came out earlier this year on Zoe Records (a subsidiary of Rounder Records). If I were inclined to make year-end best-of lists, it’s a CD that would be in my top 10. Many thanks to Pop Matters for the lead on the new MP3 stash.

“I Will Always Find A Way” – Suffering and the Hideous Thieves

What an elusive vibe suffuses this song: it seems one part late ’70s punk-turning-into-new-wave, one part ’00s orchestral-indie-construction, and one part musician-from-another-planet epic. With its slow, swaying rhythm, “I Will Always Find A Way” makes the most of an exceedingly simple core riff (we’re talking do-re-mi-re-mi-re) by handing it to a loose-limbed ensemble mixing strings, drums, keyboards, and goofy background vocals. Band leader Jeff Suffering has a British-sounding, congestive sort of wail that is oddly appealing, particularly when he goes off-key, which appears to be part of his vocal strategy. As for the burning question–is this his real name, really?–I can report that he does seem to take the name rather literally, both within his songs and without. “I’ve been wishfully thinking of leaving you/Since the day that we met” are the first words we hear him sing, with what appears to be a characteristic blend of sorrow and defiance. The record company’s bio, in turn, quotes Suffering this way: “As of now, we will continue to put out obscure releases until the Lord comes back, or until we die, or can’t rock anymore.” “I Will Always Find A Way” is from the band’s Ashamed CD, released in August on Lujo Records.

“Another Sunny Day” – Belle and Sebastian

As charmingly twee and enigmatic as ever, Belle and Sebastian is back with a brisk, wonderfully melodic tune tinged with a slight, speeded-up country and western veneer, or as much of one as this eccentric Scottish band is likely to give us. Regardless of what he’s singing about (often impossible to discern precisely), front man Stuart Murdoch–his high voice at once pure and reedy–almost always sounds laden with unbearable nostalgia for some far-off time and place that is only reachable via a rabbit hole or a wardrobe or some such magical portal. Here Murdoch delivers a voluptuous melody line most effortlessly: the entire verse is an extended melody, all 16 measures of it (compare that to standard pop songs, with their four-measure melodies at best). The shift in melody and chord that happens at the seventh measure wollops me in the gut every time (in the first verse, it’s the shift that happens on the word “pardon” in the line “I told you, ‘Beg your pardon'”); we move there into a second minor chord that cracks the song open–listen to how deeply inevitable the rest of the verse sounds, even as it’s only half over at that point. And while you’re at it, check out the nutty double-time snare beat the drummer offers up during the instrumental break at 2:24, just because it’s nutty. “Another Sunny Day” is a song that will be on the band’s next CD, The Life Pursuit, scheduled for release in February on Matador Records.The MP3 is available via the Matador site via Better Propaganda. Thanks this time to Some Velvet Blog for the lead.

“Look At Her Face” – the Coral Sea

A terrifically put together song from a Santa Barbara-based band with a good-looking future. Offering dynamics legitimately deserving of the overused adjective “cinematic,” the Coral Sea melds musical elements from a number of different decades, or maybe even centuries, to create an artfully assembled space that feels both layered and airy. The sense of urgency pervading the opening section is driven largely by the pulsings of a string quartet, of all things; when a simple, resonant piano line enters at 1:28, the song opens up magnificently, achieving a U2-esque grandeur even as singer/songwriter Rey Villalobos, with his sweet, pitch-perfect pop voice, keeps the enterprise rooted on earth rather than in the heavens somewhere. The son of a cinematographer (ah!), Villalobos is a classically-trained musician who lists Chopin among his influences; easier ones to pick out here might be the Beatles (John Lennon in particular), the Moody Blues, the Pixies, and Bends-era Radiohead, and yet this doesn’t really sound like any of them. “Look At Her Face” is the opening song on the band’s debut CD, Volcano and Heart, self-released under the Red Clover Records imprint in July. The MP3 is hosted on the band’s site. Thanks to the gang at 3hive for the lead.

“Number One” – Catlow

Wielding no obvious sonic gimmicks, no “listen to me, I’m different!” antics, Natasha Thirsk, doing business as Catlow, has crafted a remarkably unformulaic piece of punchy, three-minute neo-’90s guitar pop. From the opening, off-beat crunch of the guitar, the off-kilter entry of the bass, and the restrained drumbeat, the song manages to feel both march-like and arhythmic. Hooks come and go before they settle in, as if seen from the aural equivalent of the corner of the eye. Listen for instance to the descending riff heard first in the introduction (11 seconds in): it kind of melts in on itself, describing a slippery series of diminishments that are quickly folded into the stuttering drive, leaving you not quite sure what you heard and whether it even made sense or not. This riff, however, recurs, and becomes its own sort of mysterious hook when Thirsk works it into the melody at the end of each line of verse (the “I am I am I am” part in the first verse). The chorus, in turn, is even more elusively catchy, with the clipped stop-start-ishness of the crunchy guitar and its lack of melodic lines to hang onto; what we get instead is Thirsk’s light but powerful voice reaching successive climaxes before retreating in a sort of syncopated wave, falling then rising towards an unexpected chord that manages to lead us back to the verse without a traditional resolution. Thirsk comes from Vancouver, and gained a following late in the ’90s and into the new decade with her former band, the Dirtmitts. “Number One” is the lead track on Catlow’s debut CD, Kiss the World, released earlier this year in Canada on Boompa Records. The MP3 is via the Boompa site.

“Miles” – the Southland

Styles and tendencies in rock’n’roll tend to change pretty gradually when all is said and done, the definitive sound or sounds of one era blending seamlessly into another, and only emerging as definitive in retrospect–it’s much easier, as an example, to talk about a “’90s sound” now than it was back when we were living through it. And so the ’00s (more than half over already!) may seem so far to have produced a difficult-to-generalize sort of sound to date–particularly as there is by now such a longer and richer musical history for rock bands to be inspired by. I contend, however, that some characteristic sounds are emerging and this able and spiffy tune by a new L.A. band called the Southland pretty much nails one of them exquisitely. With its bedroom-rock-style mixture of acoustic and beat rhythms, “Miles” is not a song that could possibly have been produced in the ’60s or ’70s or ’80s or ’90s. I’m not saying this is gloriously original; actually the point is that it isn’t–but it is enormously characteristic, and beautifully crafted. What wins me is the memorable chorus, with its bittersweet melody and that great, marshmallowy slide-guitar lick. “Miles” is a song from the Southland’s debut CD, Influence of Geography, released in June on Ruffworld Records. The MP3 is via the Ruffworld site.