Category: MP3s

“In the Rain” – Marqui Adora

Marqui Adora is a quartet from Miami who do not otherwise sound like this. And while there’s nothing wrong with the early U2- and Cure-inspired material the band more typically produces, I find myself smitten by the easy-going, old-fashioned swing of this unabashedly tuneful little song.

Sprung off a nostalgic descending guitar lick and pop’s most basic chord progression, “In the Rain” succeeds to a great extent on the vocal flair of Danny Ashe, whose airy tenor echoes the doo-wopping crooners the song so fluently evokes. Reigning in a bit of the drama he employs for Marqui Adora’s neo new wave sound, Ashe floats himself casually atop “In the Rain”‘s loping beat; I find that I can’t quite tell if he’s lagging behind or pushing ahead but in either case his knowledgeable, unexpectedly silky singing lends subtle substance to a tune that drummer Joe Shockley says was inspired by the movie That Thing You Do! and “a love of 50’s and 60’s pop.” I suggest the world would be a better place were we all inspired every now and then by That Thing You Do! and a love of ’50s and ’60s pop. The MP3 is free via the band’s site—as, in fact, is all of Marqui Adora’s music.

“You Cross My Path” – the Charlatans

Smart, driven, atmospheric rocker from a veteran British band. I really like how this manages to be at once trippy and succinct. True to their “Madchester” roots, the Charlatans give us a nice shot of psychedelic keyboard washes (I especially like the burbly buildup into the chorus you can hear starting at 1:19); but even so, the song surges forward with fierce clarity, anchored by a powerful bridge, with its double-time, adjacent-note melody.

The fact that the Charlatans are still active doesn’t fit neatly into the current decade’s internet-driven view of pop music—the relentless need by online music sites and writers to dissect rock into micro-genres and leave everything behind for the next new thing. The Charlatans (who must officially place “UK” after their name here in the U.S. because of a long-defunct ’60s band with the same name) came initially to prominence in the aforementioned Manchester music scene of the late ’80s and early ’90s; their second single, “The Only One I Know,” from 1990, survives as one of the quintessential hits of that short-lived era.

Scenes rise and fall, usually taking bands with them. The Charlatans, however, managed to effect what was seen as a comeback in the mid-’90s, and now, look, it’s even 10 years later and they’re still doing what they do. And now, Radiohead-ishly, they’re giving it away: the band has decided that it will offer its next album free online. “You Cross My Path” was the first single, made available in October via both the band’s site and the British music site Xfm. A second song, “Oh Vanity,” will be available next month. The as-yet untitled album is slated for a March release.

“Country From the Dome Car” – Brooke Miller

On the one hand a straight-ahead piece of countrified rock, “Country From the Dome Car” is likewise a fetchingly elusive sort of song, centered around two divergent guitar sounds–sprightly acoustic; fuzzy electric—and a resolutely unresolved melody.

I definitely think that latter aspect is what hooked me: each line of the chorus ends by veering away from a sense of musical groundedness. Listen to the notes she sings at the end of each line—the words “everyone there,” “in my hair,” “engineer,” and, most prominently, “out of here,” at the end. Not once does the melody resolve. That she is employing a so-called “half rhyme” here—every line ends with the same consonant sound—is a subtle counter-effect; likewise the rollicking, rail-inspired rhythm provides a regularity that the melody beguilingly undermines.

Miller is a singer/songwriter from Prince Edward Island, now living in Ontario. “Country From the Dome Car” is based on the experience she had participating in a unique, three-day on-train folk festival that traveled from Toronto to Vancouver a few years ago. The song can be found on her 2007 CD You Can See Everything, which was originally released in July and was subsequently picked up for a digital re-release via Sony/ATV.

“Walk in the Woods” – Shipwreck

As Stephen Sondheim cautioned us some time ago, going into the woods is never a straightforward enterprise. Something lurks, shadows predominate, and change—not initially for the better—is always afoot. And even though the cryptic lyrics here do not describe anything overtly terrible, “Walk in the Woods” drips omen and portent, from its itchy, hihat-driven beat to Harman Jordan’s deadpan baritone to the wailing lead guitar that quite literally becomes a siren as the plot thickens.

The latent creepiness may be rooted most of all in the song’s structure, of all things. There are verses but no actual chorus—instead, there are lyrical lines that are repeated twice in succession; the first line that’s repeated this way comes back at the end, but the other two are never heard again. On the one hand, this kind of forces us to wonder if there might not be some hidden meaning in the words (or in some cases, to wonder why we still can’t quite understand the words even hearing them twice in a row)–a feeling enhanced by the mysterious phrases that are in fact discernible: “sparrows in a yellow sky,” “thunder is a lullaby,” et al. On the other hand, we are given nothing solid to hang onto. A chorus typically grounds us in a song–in “Walk in the Woods,” the ground keeps shifting. We don’t even get much melody, as the verses are almost spoken-sung. And yet, rather marvelously, we get plenty of drama, all in a swift 3:14.

Shipwreck is a quartet from Champaign, Illinois. “Walk in the Woods” was out earlier this year on a self-released EP; it has emerged again on the band’s first full-length, entitled Rabbit in the Kitchen With a New Dress On, which was released on None Records (a so-called “sub-label” of Polyvinyl Records earlier this month. MP3 via the band’s site.

“Heaven” – Club 8

Cheerful bongos and a melodic bass line propel this dreamy, resplendent slice of Swedish pop with insouciant authority. It’s hard not to like a song with bongos (or a melodic bass line, for that matter). It’s also hard not to like a song this resolutely tuneful, particularly when said tune is delivered by Karolina Komstedt, whose voice is imbued with a sublime sort of weary vibrancy that makes me hang on her every sound–and I do mean every sound, since I’m finding I’m quite enjoying, even, the way she breathes. Listen, for instance, to her potent intake of breath at 0:45, in advance of launching into the lustrous chorus, sounding as much like a sigh as a breath–I mean, how weary/vibrant is that?

Komstedt and partner Johan Angergård have been recording as Club 8 since 1995; Angergård is also in the band Acid House Kings, which may account for the leisurely pace of Club 8 albums–The Boy Who Couldn’t Stop Dreaming, on which you’ll find “Heaven,” is the duo’s sixth in these 13 years. It was released in October on the marvelous Labrador Records, based in Stockholm and Malmö. MP3 courtesy of Labrador.

“Little 18” – Eric Matthews

Open on a brooding piano vamp featuring an unsettled chord or two, cue the husky-voiced crooner (“I think I sound like the rainy half of the west coast,” he says), and settle back and listen to a pop rarity: a song with a long, long, long melody line–more than 30 measures’ worth of continually developing melody, repeated twice with an instrumental break in between. This sort of melody is largely unheard of in rock songwriting, and is pretty unusual anywhere outside of classical music. (Even back in the days of so-called pop “standards,” while longer melodies were more common, they were still rarely if ever this long.)

Eric Matthews, as it turns out, is pretty unusual himself. Classically trained on the trumpet (that’s him on the horn during the break; as a matter of fact, that’s him on all the instruments), he knows his way around actual orchestral scores, while at the same time was turned on musically, in high school, by the dark sounds of the second half of the British new wave—by bands such as Tones on Tail, Echo and the Bunnymen, and the Smiths, music that would ultimately lead him to a pop rather than a classical career. Matthews definitely has the voice for it; perhaps the main reason his protracted melody is so engaging is the well-rounded depth of his singing. And yet it’s also, I think, ear-arresting to listen to a pop lyric—Matthews is here offering some hard-headed but hardly earth-shattering advice to some unnamed young woman—unfold in this uncharacteristic musical setting.

Matthews put out his first album back in 1994, while part of the duo Cardinal; two solo albums for Sub Pop Records followed in ’95 and ’97, after which he dropped out of sight until a 2005 mini-LP for Empyrean Records. A full-length followed in ’06. “Little 18” is a track from his forthcoming album, The Imagination Stage, due out in January on Empyrean, which is hosting the MP3. Thanks to Filter for the lead.

“Confidences Shattered” – Camphor

When bands get it right, they can make their music sound so easy and familiar that they don’t seem to be doing much of anything at all. This is one important reason why critics or bloggers or fellow musicians who would sniff at a band for not doing anything “new” are so misguided. Good music isn’t all about “new”; it’s about “good,” and sometimes–maybe a lot of times–this has not too much to do with sounding new.

Camphor is a marvelous case in point. There is nothing obviously new about “Confidences Shattered” but many a good and right and splendid thing. The crisp aural landscape is a major part of the appeal, capturing as it does a down-home sort of chamber pop with smashing clarity and precision. As the players play with skill, creativity, and restraint (a rare trifecta), the recording continually gives the listener the sensation of being in the room with them as they shift in their seats, adjust the grips on their instruments, and invent percussive accents. But the clincher here is Max Avery Lichtenstein’s marvelous voice, which has a gracious, gratifying depth (nothing against tenors but it’s nice to hear a baritone every now and then!); and he sings with impeccable timing. Check out how he phrases “whenever the mood strikes you” at 1:49; more subtly, check out how his words “left us broke” (starting around :42) give the instruments extra oomph in the spaces in between.

As with many indie bands in the ’00s, Camphor is the brainchild of one mastermind, who then enlists a bevy of sidekicks to flesh out the sound. Unusual in this case, however, is Lichtenstein’s background—he’s a film composer who has worked on the critically-acclaimed movies Tarnation (2003) and Home Front (2006), among others. “Confidences Shattered” is from his debut CD as Camphor, Drawn to Dust, which will be released in February on Friendly Fire Recordings. MP3 via Friendly Fire.




“Stains on Your Sweater” – Jong Pang

Okay, back to the tenors—in this case a tenor with such a soaring range that I had to double-check to be sure this was in fact a man singing. It is; he’s Danish musician Anders Rhedin, formerly of a band called Moon Gringo. Rhedin has been away from rock’n’roll for a few years, apparently immersing himself in world, folk, and classical music. But he’s back in the indie world and seems to be going by Jong Pang this time around.

“Stains on Your Sweater” announces itself with an unearthly fanfare before we even hear Rhedin’s keening vocals. An upward-yearning fourth interval repeats on an electronic keyboard, but listen carefully to what else is in there: an acoustic guitar, some industrial noise, and, if I’m not mistaken, either choral voices or electronically simulated choral voices. Half robotic, half medieval, this is quite a stew in which to cook a pop song. But it hardly needs be said that this is no normal pop song. Rhedin’s double-tracked voice enters 30 seconds in, singing about stains and sleeves and sweaters; and while the content is difficult to decipher what is clear is the deliberate repetition of words, creating a sort of slowed-down minimalist ambiance, reinforced by the reiterating fourth interval that continually informs the musical structure, even when the hammering keyboard riff disappears. I love the use of flat-out noise—you’ll hear an episode of it from 0:57 to 1:24–and how the song continues on otherwise, as if nothing untoward is occurring: the drumming keeps the beat, the chord progression progresses, and, best of all, a stubborn piano picks out a slightly desultory melody despite all the commotion.

“Stains on Your Sweater” is a song from the forthcoming Jong Pang debut, to be called Bright White Light, set for release in 2008 on a new European label called Tigerspring (so new it doesn’t yet have a web site). MP3 courtesy of Tigerspring.




“Seasons Greetings” – Robbers on High Street

And talk about getting something right. Christmas music is, as I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, something very easy to do, well, not right. The NYC-based Robbers on High Street, with their effortless Kinks-like flair, convert this strange musical relic—originally one of 200,000 “song poems” that were created over the course of 50 years during the last century (a phenomenon you can read more about here)—into its own sort of homely holiday classic.

Song poems were basically a scam. The idea was to lure people via small magazine ads (which originally promised income for songwriting) into paying good money to have their words converted into a recorded song with as little effort as possible, by uncredited industry hacks. This was not how to crack the Billboard Hot 100. A few years back, Bar/None Records released a couple of compilations of these original song-poem recordings, one of which was a Christmas album. “Seasons Greetings,” written by Raymond Moberly and originally performed by an outfit called Teri Summers and the Librettos, is a song filled with generic sentiment and lines that often don’t scan very well with the music. Robbers on High Street dive merrily in, giving it a Phil Spector-beated intro (cute) and latching breezily onto the song’s gleeful melody, which comes alive in a very Ron Sexsmith-y sort of way when relieved of the lounge-singer pseudo-swing of the original version. MP3 available via New Line Records.

“Small Town Crew” – the Brunettes

This one sounds pure and true and good—completely devoid of the “hmm, what’s the best way to sound cool?” sensibility that mars some of the music one hears from U.S. and U.K. bands in particular. The Brunettes are from New Zealand, so that partially explains it. But the key here, to me, is Heather Mansfield’s voice, which is heart-breaking if you listen carefully: gorgeous and imperfect, it’s a little bit breathy, a little bit raspy, a little bit almost-out-of-tune, a little bit era-free (she’s kind of ’60s but also kind of not), and maybe at its most fetching when reaching towards her upper register. Another boy-girl duo in this golden age of boy-girl duos, the Brunettes aren’t rigid about it; even as Mansfield plays keyboards, glockenspiel, xylophone, and clarinet(!) (her partner, Jonathan Bree, sings and plays guitar), the twosome is happy to bring in other players when it seems like a good idea, which can be almost any time at all, apparently. A trumpet wanders in about a third of the way through, offers some smart Bacharachy punctuation, then gives way to some (synthesized?) strings and ultimately (why not) an accordion–which later becomes part of an instrumental break featuring (for probably the first time in rock history) accordion, xylophone, and electronic percussion. It’s quirky but the bittersweet melody, anchoring guitar work, and Mansfield’s unerring voice keep everything brilliantly just so. “Small Town Crew” is from the CD Structure & Cosmetics, which came out on Subpop Records back in August. Not sure how this one passed me by at the time but, as the saying goes, better late than really really late. MP3 via Subpop.

“Time to Pretend” – MGMT

So you’re two freshmen goofing around with electronic music in college who end up forming a band more or less by accident. Goes without saying, therefore, that within four years, legendary producer Steve Lillywhite hears you and gets you signed to a four-record, six-figure deal with Columbia Records. Or not; but that’s what has indeed happened to Ben Goldwasser and Andrew VanWyngarden, who met at Wesleyan in 2002 and within months of graduating were shaking hands with major-label honchos. If this song is indicative, these guys do in fact have something interesting going–something, in this particular case, that merges thick, hairy, synth-driven beats with a quasi-cheesy, neo-glam-rock vibe and a wry take on life. Pushed along by a chipper, just this side of irritating synthesizer riff, “Time to Pretend” lays out a cliched story of rock-star decadence and flameout as something the band is simply “fated to pretend” rather than achieve. Amusingly, we can’t quite tell if they’re making fun of the musicians who’ve succumbed to this or the rest of us for our standard, humdrum existences–or, most likely, both. “Time to Pretend” is the lead track from the band’s debut CD, Oracular Spectacular, which came out digitally last month, available via iTunes; the CD will apparently be released next month. MP3 via Better Propaganda.

“My Oldest Memory” – Bowerbirds

Another song that has been around since the summer too, but in this case I’ve actually been listening to it for that long (unlike the Brunettes song, which I just recently discovered). “My Oldest Memory” resides on the least pop-like end of the Fingertips music spectrum; I’ve been transfixed since I first heard it by the eerie-Appalachian instrumentation, inscrutable lyricism, and elusive structure, but have been uncertain about the song’s apparent lack of hooks–just when I want the song to kick into something simple and solid, it instead recedes into its landscape-like, fiddle-based complexities, homespun percussion, and that abrupt non-sing-along-y sing-along section. This week, however, it more or less flung itself after “Time to Pretend,” daring me to push it away. I dare not. This song has legs, and deserves a good long listen at your end too. Bowerbirds is a trio from Raleigh featuring Phil Moore singing and doing some other things, Mark Paulson on violin and some other things, and Beth Tacular, an accomplished painter who also happens to play accordion and marching-band bass drum, while sitting. “My Oldest Memory” can be found on their debut CD, Hymns for a Dark Horse, which was released in July on Burly Time Records. Thanks way back when to Gorilla vs. Bear for the head’s up and the link.

“Saturday Night” – Pale Young Gentlemen

The Madison-based ensemble that call themselves Pale Young Gentlemen (the prominently featured cellist is a woman, however) play a singular sort of theatrical indie pop, featuring a jaunty sense of melody, a soft spot for old-timey rhythms, and something of Randy Newman’s way with string-enhanced, piano-based vamping. The aforementioned cello lends an indefinable suggestion of yesteryear to the proceedings, while lead singer and pianist Mike Reisenauer—sounding like a cross between Adam Duritz and Andrew Bird, with a dusting of Chris Martin—sings with a amicable sort of semi-boozey flair; when he gets to the rollicking chorus I can all but see him doing a vaudevillian sort of backward-moving kick step and spread-hand shimmy. And I like how economically the Pale Young Gents manage the theatrics; rather than drowning us with strings or layered, Freddie Mercury-style vocals, the song gives us the feel of something orchestrated with, in fact, a minimal number of instruments, skillfully but informally played—the music has the air of something that everyone maybe just finished rehearsing half a moment before they sat down to record. Keep an ear out too for the backing vocals, sung with fine slapdash charm. “Saturday Night” is a song from the band’s self-released, self-titled debut CD, which came out way back in March, but only recently came to the attention of the hard-working mail sorters in the Fingertips home office.



“Truck” – the Octopus Project

Indefatigable and gleeful instrumental pop from one of the indie world’s most beloved and quirky outfits. (Note that it is difficult if not impossible to achieve beloved status in the indie world without quirkiness.) As noted the previous times the Octopus Project has graced the pages of this web site (a TWF pick in ’05), this Austin-based quartet has an almost magical way of converting its beepy, boopy sounds into something rich and satisfying, even to the ears of this non-instrumental-oriented listener. Here, a sprightly synthesizer comprises the not-as-simple-as-it-seems core of this fleet-footed 7/4 rave-up. As usual, the band’s uncommon ability to blend the electronic, the electric, and the percussive into an organic-sounding whole is front and center (although its endearing use of the theremin is not, unfortunately, on obvious display in this song). While the 7/4 time signature is not unheard of in pop music, the band’s ability to rock out, briskly, within this framework is ear-catching. Likewise ear-catching are the short bridge-like sections during which the 7/4 is abandoned for an even more off-kilter beat (for instance, from 0:20 to 0:31; could be 5/4, maybe, partly) before rejoining the seven-beat groove. Don’t miss the outer space version of the bridge, from 1:32 to 1:43, when the synthesizer pairs with one ringing guitar to create, somehow, a shimmering sound that almost “out-aliens” the absent theremin, before giving way to hard-bashing 7/4 craziness the rest of the way. “Truck” is a song from the CD Hello, Avalanche, the band’s third full-length disc, which was released last month on Peek-A-Boo Records.



“Falling Behind” – Dear Euphoria

Elina Johansson has a slight Sandy Denny-ish tremor in her tender, affecting voice, lending a luminous air to this song’s pervading sadness—a sadness induced by the crestfallen pace, spare setting, and broken-hearted lyrics but not, interestingly, by the actual music, which is mostly comprised of major rather than minor chords. Listen carefully and you may hear how closely the verses hang on top of one of the most familiar bass lines in the 20th-century pop songbook, the one from novice-pianist-friendly “Heart and Soul”; the chorus, meanwhile, floats us into a forlorn, asymmetrical space in which Johansson’s doubletracked voice sings a melodic line that repeats once too often while the drummer retreats, taking the assurance of a beat with him (or her). The plaintive ambiance ultimately forces an alternative interpretation of Dear Euphoria—bliss that is not sweet but, rather, costly. Born in Sweden, Johansson did not begin performing until she moved to Los Angeles for a while earlier in the decade; she “took it as a sign to return home when daily turning on the ac to max,” according to some sketchy but evocative biographical information on her web site. Dear Euphoria is not a band but the name Johansson performs under, with, sometimes, a small circle of regular side players. “Falling Behind” is a song from the self-titled debut CD, which came out last month on London-based Stereo Test Kit Records. This CD is a re-worked version of an album that was self-released, with a different title, in 2005; the new CD has subtracted two of the original songs and added four new ones (including “Falling Behind”). MP3 is via the Stereo Test Kit site.

“You Can’t Say No Forever” – Lacrosse

Peppy, winsome, and unpretentious, “You Can’t Say No Forever” launches off a nimble acoustic intro, picks up a boy-girl pair of lead singers singing maybe not exactly in tune all the time, a drum kit, an electric guitar or two, an endearing synthesizer (don’t miss it), and a nice fat horn line before it’s all through in a scant three minutes six seconds. The almost but not quite zany energy is the infectious result of a delightful sing-song-y melody and six musicians playing with great bustling spirit–as they get going, I can all but picture the jouncing body parts working things into a dust cloud, like some cartoon animal band, setting up the climactic moment (at 2:25) when the instruments stop on a dime and the vocalists join together for a heartfelt “ba-da-da-da-da-da,” which repeats as the piece draws to its lively close. We have by the way yet another band from Sweden here–Lacrosse is from Stockholm, and are signed to Tapete Records, the German label with an enviable habit of releasing wonderful music. “You Can’t Say No Forever” is from the CD This New Year Will Be For You and Me, which was released in Europe this month. The MP3 is via the Tapete site.

“Evergreen” – Celebration

With its carnival organ, idiosyncratic drum beat, cagey structure, and elusive vocals—not only is the singer hard to understand, but you might not initially realize that a woman and not a tenor is singing—this is truly an unusual song. I’ve been sitting with it for quite a while already; it was one of those that fascinated me at an unconscious level, leaving my conscious mind a bit perplexed as to why I kept listening and listening. I’m still not sure I know, exactly, but it definitely has something to do with the unique texture created by the swirling instrumentation, scuttly drumming, Katrina Ford’s reverberant voice, and maybe most of all the seductively repetitive melody–listen to how Ford stays centered on one note a whole lot of the time; the furtive dives she takes to lower pitches somehow serve to further emphasize the unmoving primary note. And I may be crazy but deep within the kaleidoscopic organ sound I’m sensing the beating heart of an old-time soul record, as I could swear I’m hearing a Booker T. and the M.G.s/Stax Records reference in the mix somewhere. “Celebration” is the lead track off this Baltimore-based trio’s second CD, The Modern Tribe, which was released last month on 4AD Records. MP3 courtesy of Beggars Group, 4AD’s parent label.

“Faster Than Cars Drive” – Kate Tucker & the Sons of Sweden

The combination of tough and lonely is an appealing one, and Tucker’s got it going here, with a tough and lonely shuffle that sounds a bit like Patty Griffin trying to do a Mazzy Star imitation, with Neko Case for a teacher. Tucker’s got an achy edge to her breathy voice, while her able band creates a world of subtle feeling behind her via a series of fluid changes in their reverb-laced playing. Keep your ear on the drummer in particular, who drives the one obvious, and central, change: the apparent time shift of the chorus, which isn’t a time shift at all, simply an ear-arresting rhythmic trick. This outfit, by the way, is actually not from Sweden, but from the Seattle neighborhood of Ballard–which was the traditional center of the city’s Scandanavian community (thus, it would seem, the band name). The Sons of Sweden, by the way, were a band called the Dark Ages before joining forces with Tucker, who has herself released one solo CD before this one. “Faster Than Cars Drive” is from the self-titled debut CD as an ensemble–a disc produced by Ryan Hadlock, who has worked with Blonde Redhead and Metric, among other bands. The CD was self-released at the end of October, on the band’s Red Valise Records imprint.

Rebekah Higgs – “Parables”

This one starts almost before the musicians have picked up their instruments. We hear tuning, we hear the singer warming up, and then we hear the song kick in, but listen carefully–in addition to the instantly engaging and well-textured groove, you’ll hear a layer or two of ghostly electronics echoing in the aural distance. Unlike many who have explored a mix of acoustic and electronic sounds (often a simple mashing of acoustic guitar and laptop effects), Higgs uses electronics with an orchestral flair, weaving beautiful howls and altered vocal effects into a down-home mix of guitar, drums, banjo, and strings. At the song’s center are a resilient, six-measure melody (the same for both verse and chorus) and Higgs’ breathy-scratchy, bumpy-yet-frisky voice. Together they can do no wrong; interspersed with noodly sections featuring the words “I will” amidst an eddying swirl of loops, indistinct sounds, stray lyrics, and banjo, the main melody returns each time like a trusty friend. The end result is hypnotic–the song is five minutes long but might as well be two or ten, time kind of becoming elastic in the hands of this 24-year-old singer/songwriter/guitarist from Halifax with a bright bright future. “Parables” is the lead track off her self-titled debut CD, given a remastered, Canada-wide release last month by Toronto-based Outside Music. (Higgs had self-released the CD in a limited release last year; the Outside version also contains two extra songs.) MP3 via Outside Music; thanks to Chrome Waves for the lead.

“Alarm Clock” – the Rumble Strips

A sprightly slice of good-humored British neo new wave pop, plus horns. The sax and trumpet deliver their old-fashioned horn chart with a slaphappy abandon that enhances the general drollery, but then here’s the twist: “Alarm Clock” is not actually a carefree song, as it concerns the unhumorous reality of having to work at a dreary job day after day. What the music reflects, however, is the spirit with which our narrator struggles with this ubiquitous misfortune–not to mention “solves” the problem of the bothersome alarm clock (“So I hit him with a hammer/And now he’s quite subdued”). Singer Charlie Waller has a bit of Andy Partridge’s spirited wail and he and his three bandmates most definitely like to bang, blow, and hit their instruments with incautious glee; at this point it’s hard to imagine that anything they sing about, however serious, will sound somber. The Rumble Strips hail from Tavistock, a small Devonshire town near the Cornwall border in southwest England; “Alarm Clock” is from their six-song Alarm Clock EP, the band’s first U.S. release, which will be out next month on Kanine Records. A shorter version of this EP came out earlier in the year in the U.K.; “Alarm Clock” can also be found on the Rumble Strips’ debut full-length, Girls and Weather, which was released in the U.K. in September on Island Records. MP3 courtesy of Spin.

“Five O’Clock News” – Ryan Scott

This languorous, slightly jazzy ballad, in three-quarter time, is a definite grower. Scott has a distinctive, somewhat smoky, large-mouthed voice, with nice range and a pliable tone–an ideal tool, as it turns out, for this deceptively complex little song. While there appear, more or less, to be verses and a chorus and maybe a bridge, lyrically, the music slides sneakily from section to section, augmented by understated changes as sections repeat, the sneaky feeling complemented by the melody’s tendency to swing across the three-beat measures, most syllables in the lyrics stretching out for two or more beats. And then, lo and behold, the central (albeit subtle) hook, to my ears, is the one-sentence chorus, in which Scott placidly lobs a ten-syllable run in which each syllable is precisely one beat long–from the word “sweater” to the words “for me” (from 0:52 to 0:58 the first time we hear it), and does it with an appealing ascending/descending melody, finishing on the sidestep of an unresolved chord. The second time we hear this exact sentence we get fourteen straight one-beat syllables, beginning with the word “clock” (2:36), with the song ending when the sentence ends, unresolved chord still hanging in the air. Trained as a jazz guitarist, Scott moved to NYC from the Bay Area in 2001, only 18 at the time, to make his way as a singer/songwriter. “Five O’Clock News” is from the CD Smoke & Licorice, released in September by Brooklyn-based CrystalTop Music. This is officially Scott’s second CD, but features eight songs that were also on his debut CD, Five O’Clock News, which had a limited release in the middle of last year.

“The Main Thing is to Keep the Main Thing the Main Thing” – I Am Bones

So this is a band with a sense of humor, which can be a mixed blessing in rock’n’roll, where a conscious effort to appear “funny” often crosses the line into “hm, maybe not funny.” The best way to stay on the good side of the line is, first of all, for the humor to seem self-effacing rather than obnoxious and, second (and more important), for the music itself to be delightful. The Danish quartet I Am Bones—whose first, self-released CD had the Firesign Theater-esque title of If You Really Love Me, Send Me More Medical Supplies—appears to satisfy on both counts with this splendid slice of slightly skewed, smile-inducing power pop. Listen, instantly, to the harmonies employed right out of the gate, which utilize elastic intervals that I can’t discern, delivered over a twitchy guitar rhythm. The off-kilter flavor of the verse, pleasing on its own, further serves to make the straight-ahead I-IV-V brilliance of the chorus all the more appetizing. Here, front man Johannes Gammelby’s voice takes on an unexpected depth, as the bottom-heavy drive of the music combines with the upward-leaning melody to lend him something of Jeff Lynne’s congenial vocal power. One final key to success is succinctness: the song lasts barely longer than the title; we hear the chorus but twice, as the entire last minute of a not-very-long-anyway song is a guitar-driven instrumental coda. “The Main Thing…” is from the new I Am Bones CD, The Greater Good, the band’s second for the English-speaking Danish label Morningside Records, released last month in Europe. The MP3 is via Morningside.

“Subtle Changes” – Sambassadeur

We’re staying in Scandanavia for no particular reason except that this next wonderful song sounds great after our first wonderful song. Sambassadeur is a quartet from Gothenburg, Sweden whose previously stripped-down vibe (in the past, their recordings were done at home) has been fetchingly boosted by echoey strings, atmospheric percussion, a grand, chugging rhythm and, later on, a honking sax solo. Anna Persson, once a casual, somewhat deadpan vocalist—singing in short, talky phrases, and sounding as if she could not sing and smile at the same time—here emerges with a richer tone, partly because of the production but partly also because she’s not afraid to hold her notes, to fully sing. She may not yet be smiling but she’s loosened up her facial muscles and in so doing shifted away from irony and towards passion, which engenders I think much more than a subtle change in the band’s sound. What they retain, however, is a nimble way with melody; listen in particular to the chorus and how beautifully the melody extends beyond the confines of a typical four-measure pop chorus–the melodic line here is actually nine measures long, which is unusual, seemingly one measure too long, and it leaves us vaguely unresolved musically, too, until the chorus repeats a second time and then hooks back into the opening chord of the verse section (compare the unfinished feeling from 1:43 through 1:46 to the resolution at 1:47). “Subtle Changes” is from Migration, Sambassadeur’s first studio album, released last month, in Europe, on Labrador Records. MP3 via Labrador.

“Tree” – Hopewell

It’s really hard, I think, to start a pop song this slowly; and to do so with a high-pitched, slightly nasally tenor such as Jason Russo’s front and center is even harder. But his voice is not, at first, what anchors the ear here. The piano, instead, commands attention, with its simple, firm, plaintive chords. Four times the chords shift during this slow opening, and notice how, with each chord shift, Russo nevertheless comes back to settle on the same melodic note; Tyson Lewis’s uncluttered, shifting chords create such a strong, if bittersweet, feeling that they trick the ear into thinking the melody is moving more than it is. When the band kicks in at 0:34, the small, careful instrumental flourishes put me in the mind of an old Band song, which the central, doleful melody reinforces, not to mention Russo’s intermittent resemblance to Rick Danko. While the opening progression remains at the center of this almost inexplicably captivating song, varied textures arise along the way, building towards a louder, fuller-bodied conclusion, complete with deep rumblings underneath and an almost orchestrated feel to the band’s playing. Hopewell is not from Scandanavia; Poughkeepsie, New York is the off-the-beaten path home for this talented but largely unrecognized quintet. “Tree” is from Beautiful Targets, the band’s fifth CD, released in July on Tee Pee Records.

“Be Unhappy” – Maritime

I like how the basic, wet-blanket lyrical twist here–“Even if you find the love of your life/You could be unhappy for weeks at a time”–is mirrored in the music: at the heart of this peppy, summer-sunny tune are recurring suspended chords that block our sense of simple fulfillment (they’re laid out right in the intro, at :03 and :06), like persistent clouds on a beach day. And listen to the guitar that plays these chords–a smooth, old-fashioned-sounding thing that wouldn’t seem out of place offering insouciant licks in a jazz bar, and yet somehow, too, commingles successfully with the much itchier, vaguely punky second guitar. My ear even finds singer-guitarist Davey von Bohlen himself embodying the same aesthetic conflict, his high, graceful voice subtly contradicted by a raspiness just below the surface. That the music conveys us eventually to a bunch of “doo-doo-doo-doo”s is the culminating musical oxymoron in a song that so prettily seems to be assuring us that life isn’t always pretty. You’ll find this one on Maritime’s new CD, Heresy and the Hotel Choir, the third album from this accomplished Milwaukee quartet, which was released this month on Flameshovel Records.

“Ex-Guru” – the Fiery Furnaces

The Fiery Furnaces are fully a product of the 21st century: a brother-sister duo from suburban Chicago trafficking in oblique, experimental songwriting featuring intermittent snatches of backward-looking pop-rock, with lots of stylistic leaps, sonic mayhem, and lyrical perplexities along the way. Founded officially in Brooklyn in 2000, the Furnaces tend to elicit extreme reactions–some claim Matthew and Eleanor Friedberger as Captain Beefheart-style geniuses, others urge people to throw money out windows rather than pay for what the Fiery Furnaces have recorded. Me, I’m thinking that it’s a vast knowledge of and appreciation for the music of the past that fuels their experimentation, which means, if they put their minds to it, they’re fully capable of sounding quote-unquote normal too (as, for instance, they did on “Benton Harbor Blues,” a previous TWF pick. “Ex-Guru” gives us, this time, a brisk, ironic/nostalgic piece of rock such as Beck might concoct, delivered with a blasé sort of gusto by Eleanor, who must here know that the recurring lyric “She means nothing to me now” accentuates the aural illusion that a man is singing. (The lyrics, rather plainly about, indeed, an ex-guru, are funny and also I think a little sad.) Be sure to hang around past the Stevie Wonder keyboards to see where else this one wants to go: we get, first, a heavy burst of guitar and synthesizer (1:25) that sounds like the B-52s doing Led Zeppelin, which leads somehow into a baroque-y flute, horn, and harpsichord-like keyboard trio that helps finish things off. “Ex-Guru” is from Widow City, the band’s fifth full-length, released earlier this month on Thrill Jockey Records. MP3 courtesy of Paper Thin Walls BetterPropaganda.

“Imaginary Girl” – the Silver Seas

Easy-going, super-likeable neo-mellow rock. Singer/songwriter Daniel Tashian sounds like a cross between James Taylor and Jackson Browne, with maybe a dash of young Billy Joel thrown in, and the music he crafts with producer/keyboardist Jason Lehning is a lovingly updated version of the kind of thing that was in the air back when JT and JB and BJ were plying their 1974-ish wares–we get something of JT’s soulful swing, a bit of JB’s star-crossed ache, and an agreeable interplay between the gentle but lively piano (a la Joel), with its cascading arpeggios, and some snappy acoustic guitar work. Tashian and Lehning were until recently doing business, in Nashville, as the Bees (U.S.); when they signed with Cheap Lullaby Records they changed their name to rid themselves once and for all of the conflict with the British band the Bees. Tashian, by the way, is the son of Barry Tashian, front man for the Remains, the legendary ’60s garage rock band from Boston (best known for the single “Don’t Look Back,” a highlight off the landmark Nuggets collection). “Imaginary Girl” is from the CD High Society, originally self-released in 2006, when the band was still the Bees; it’s slated for a national re-release on Cheap Lullaby next month. MP3 courtesy of Cheap Lullaby.

“Make a Plan” – Saturday Looks Good to Me

Deftly built with riffs and sounds and cheery vocals, “Make a Plan” is infused with a charming sort of handmade vibe, like something modeled unexpectedly yet expertly with masking tape and cardboard. The introduction is an immediate example of the odd but sturdy construction I’m talking about—first we get the buoyant acoustic strum, straight out of a Harry Belafonte record or some such thing, then a thin slice of vague and fuzzy electric guitar, which together are capped by a low, fat, echoey line of four descending notes from a different guitar finished off with that comic book-y flanging. The net effect is simultaneously solid and odd. Then comes the kind of kooky melody, a long downward trip of doubled notes, sung with unhurried flair by SLGTM multi-instrumentalist and mastermind Fred Thomas. And how much like Ray Davies is Thomas sounding here? A lot, says me, especially for a guy from Detroit, and more especially when the song hits full Kinks mode during the bridge, from 2:05 through 2:30. I like how a piano suddenly appears at this point too, as if someone had just rolled one into the room so, okay, might as well play it. Saturday Looks Good to Me is an ensemble with a revolving lineup; Thomas has apparently worked with more than 75 people towards the end of putting SLGTM records together since 2000. “Make a Plan” is from the outfit’s fourth full-length CD, Fill Up the Room, slated for release next week on K Records. The MP3 is courtesy of K.

“Headrush” – Hot Springs

Grinding, spunky rock’n’roll from yet another intriguing band from Montreal. This quartet’s distinctive sound is immediately dominated by the throaty, quavery voice of singer/guitarist Giselle Webber, who is in full command of what she’s doing. After studying the voices of classic jazz singers, Webber found a new way to use hers. “You can contort and find these extra pockets of air in your sinuses and deep down in your gut,” she told a Montreal newspaper a couple of years ago, “and eventually I learned that you can sculpt your voice in these crazy ways by fucking up sound inside your throat. That’s my favorite way to sing.” To be honest, I can’t claim that it’s my favorite voice to listen to, but the way Webber interacts with this stop-start-y, bottom-heavy music does have a sneaky appeal, combining a comfortable classic-rock drive with something fiercer and untamed. I like the chorus in particular, with its mixture of rushed triplets and dragged-out quarter notes, skipped drumbeats, and jumbled-together words (which are hard to decipher; the first line is “These glasses have been empty for too damn long”). Often I praise lyrics that scan impeccably with the music but for the sake of vehemence there is room in rock for songs in which the drive of the music requires the words to bend to its will. This kind of thing, I think, only works when the singer has a bit of “force of nature” about him or her; from what I’m hearing, I’d say Webber qualifies. “Headrush” is from the debut Hot Springs CD, Volcano (see? force of nature), released last month, in Canada, by the band’s Quire Records imprint, via the big label DKD. The MP3 is found on the band’s site.

“See These Bones” – Nada Surf

If this song sounds like a sharp, pristine relic from some disconcertingly long-ago day when songs were songs and bands were bands, one good reason for this is that Nada Surf has been around pretty much since those days—this Brooklyn-based trio formed back in 1992. Or, as they note on their MySpace page, “Nada Surf has been a band 10 years longer than most of their living peers have been out of a car seat.” Straightforward and memorable, “See These Bones” is given an assist out of the gate by a good opening line—“Everyone’s right and no one is sorry/That’s the start and the end of the story”—that in a nutshell describes the sociopolitical impasse in which we find ourselves. The heart of this one is clearly the glowing chorus, featuring one of those classic-sounding, power-pop-affiliated melodies that seems clearly to recall some other song or two (or five) and yet eludes specific identification. The lovely, pining voice of Matthew Caws is, as ever, the ideal vehicle for the soaring bittersweetness on display. “See These Bones” is a way-early peak at the band’s next CD, which will be called Lucky and is not scheduled for release on Barsuk Records until February ’08. The MP3 is via Barsuk Epitonic.