Category: MP3s

“I’m Happy But You Don’t Like Me” – Asobi Seksu

Three minutes and nine seconds of giddy neo-new wave bliss. The melody is Blondie perfect; combine that with the band’s capacity to unleash some serious but disciplined guitar noise and I’m all but swooning. Lead singer Yuki’s innocent breathiness adds to the glory of a song that sounds to me like the bright flip side of one of the new wave’s greatest singles, the bleak but invincible “Enola Gay,” from Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. Asobi Seksu is a NYC-based band that offers songs in both English and Japanese, but prior understanding of Japanese is not required to enjoy this awesome piece of pop. “I’m Happy But…” comes from the band’s debut, self-titled CD, which was released on Friendly Fire Recordings in May. You’ll find the MP3 on the band’s web site.

“Veda’s Waltz – Christine Fellows

The label “chamber pop” has been floating around for the better part of a decade, and is typically used to refer to music made by indie bands which have incorporated traditional stringed instruments (e.g. violin or cello) into their sound. Normally the label seems to miss the mark (and often has the air of gimmickry about it) but in the case of Christine Fellows, the shoe fits agreeably: “Veda’s Waltz” sounds like nothing so much as a pop song peformed by a small chamber ensemble, if that were something small chamber ensembles usually did. What makes it work, to me, is Fellows’ strikingly immediate voice. Stripped of all pretense, her voice is underscored by the same sort of ineffable ache that characterizes the sound of the instruments she is singing with; she blends beautifully, gratifyingly with them–gratifying because I have never believed one has to sing like an opera singer to perform with “classical” instruments, even though that’s been the presumption for, oh, a few hundred years or so at this point. Another engaging, idiosyncratic musician from Canada, Fellows was in a couple of bands in the ’90s before striking out on her own, first with an album called 2 little birds in 2000 and then The Last One Standing in 2002, on which “Veda’s Waltz” is found. The MP3 is on her web site.

“The Long Distance Four” – Constantines

From the first note, the electric guitar here says “pay attention to this,” and yet, how, exactly, is this achieved? I find it difficult to articulate (writing about music remains a basically ridiculous idea), but it’s a two-guitar sound that rejects classic-rock, guitar-hero fire for a clipped, urgent riff below, accompanied by open-chorded harmonics above. Bringing Television to mind, it’s a sound that puts you on call, and on edge, and then along comes lead singer Bryan Webb, sounding for all the world like Joe Strummer’s Canadian cousin, with the late Clash leader’s endearingly husky, offhanded capacity to carry a tune and his knack for spitting out startling, unexpected lyrics (“Collect the body of Isadora Duncan”??). Now I’m definitely paying attention, and I’m liking what I hear a lot. “The Long Distance Four” comes from the band’s first full-length CD, a self-titled disc released originally in 2001, and just re-issued by Sub Pop.

“Whiskey Tango” – Tanya Donelly

Slinky and acoustic, “Whiskey Tango” shows off Tanya Donelly’s rich, elastic voice and subtle facility with melody in a quiet and simplified setting. It’s a new direction for the former leader of the band Belly, whose songs have not lacked for crunch, drive, and electricity in the past. On “Whiskey Tango,” the under-appreciated Donelly looks for texture in smaller gestures–a slide guitar here, a wood block there–and brings her world-weary lyrics (“Of the art of making waves/I’ve had my lesson in spades”) front and center. The song is as quiet as its implied tango beat, and might float by unnoticed were it not for the aching dignity of its minimal but lovely chorus–Donelly’s use of a seventh chord and the elegant progression out of it when she sings “Of the art of speaking plain…” gives “Whiskey Tango” a small but powerful hook. The song is the effectual title track from her just-released Whiskey Tango Ghosts (4AD Records). (MP3 is no longer a direct link but if you click the red download button on Insound, you should find yourself with a copy.)

“Gonna Never Have to Die” – Guided By Voices

The air of timeless rock’n’roll hangs brilliantly around this song, from Robert Pollard’s Pete Townshend-like vocals to the old-fashioned drive of its big, snare-less beat and simple harmonies, to something at once larger and less definable in its deep and well-crafted ambiance. After a simple, itchy bit of acoustic guitar, the song grabs me instantly with the way each line in the first verse begins with one syllable drawn out over five distinct notes, complete with a wonderful, syncopated sort of hestiation in the middle. Okay, so it’s kind of harder to describe in words than to listen to, but it creates an almost transcendent sort of wonder right smack in the middle of the action. There’s even a counter-balancing resolution at the end of each line in the chorus, when, again, one syllable is stretched over five distinct notes, this time a simple back-and-forth between two tones. Yeah, like I said, harder to describe than to listen to. “Gonna Never Have to Die” is a song from Guided By Voices’ soon-to-be-released CD, entitled Half Smiles of the Decomposed (Matador Records). After 20 some-odd releases spanning 17 years, Half Smiles will be GBV’s last album–and therefore something of a momentous event in the indie world. And yet at the same time, leader Pollard has put the band through so many incarnations that it’s safe to say that as long as Pollard continues to record, GBV fans will have a lot to look forward to.

“Verandi” – Björk

Mysterious, hypnotic, and bizarrely endearing, as Björk just about always is. “Verandi” combines the exotic ambiance and expansive percussiveness typical of 1997’s Homogenic with a hint of the intimate sonic touches and gentle melodicism of 2001’s Vespertine. I like how the almost martial regularity of the beat provides unexpected comfort through the aural adventure that unfolds here. Some of the non-Western-ness on display stems from work done on the song by “Bollywood” composer Jolly Mukherjee, but with Björk, a musical universe unto herself, you never know quite from where the unearthliness radiates. And what does it all mean? With Björk, you just don’t ask. Bask in the sound of it, thrill to the countless moments of offbeat beauty, and be happy that she, at least, knows what she’s doing. “Verandi” was originally released as a B-side to “Hidden Places,” from Vespertine; the MP3 is on Björk’s jam-packed web site. Thanks to Fat Planet for the heads up on this one; the Björk site is so overflowing with words and links that I never previously noticed she had any MP3s up there at all.

“The Rat” – The Walkmen
Brash and big and all but irresistible right out of the starting gate, from that first, fuzzy, unresolved chord, through the huge drum beats and the minor chord progressions, and that’s even before the first verse kicks in. These guys just don’t hold anything back, and the sonic result is exhilarating, combining the twitchy rawness of the Strokes with the aching spaciousness of early U2 and the artful drive of New Order. Singer Hamilton Leithauser sings with a hoarse edge, as if he’s already overdone it and should be resting his voice already but forget about it, he’s got this song to sing first, dammit. The Walkmen are from Washington, D.C. and have apparently been playing in bands together since the fifth grade. “The Rat” comes from their second CD, Bows + Arrows, released in February on the Record Collection imprint, which does its best to look like a quirky, independent label but is actually part of Warner Brothers. But I’m not complaining–more big labels should offer offbeat acts like Record Collection does, along with (heaven forbid!) free and legal MP3s. Back in the day, all we had more or less were the big boys to find our music for us, and they sometimes did a decent job. Times have changed, but good music is still good music.

“London” – Red Pony  link no longer available
While I am not a big fan of overly indie sounds, and am downright suspicious of lo-fi recordings, I find this song oddly endearing. Part of the appeal is the piano motif at the beginning; there’s something about its plaintive melodicism that I will gladly follow anywhere. The vocals are simple to the point of naivete, the guitar tinny, the sound garage-y, and yet at the same time I hear in it a vitality and urgency that brings me back to great singles that used to emerge from the U.K. in the late ’70s, each its own mini-universe of hopes, dreams, and vision. Red Pony is a bass-less three-piece band from Cardiff, Wales. They are label-less, also; “London” can be found on the band’s web site.

“Far End of the Night” – Grant Lee Phillips  link no longer available
And then sometimes this is exactly the sound I want to hear: deep, polished, and timeless. Phillips, the driving force behind the ’90s band Grant Lee Buffalo, has a knack for writing new melodies that you’re sure you must’ve heard before, sings them in an arrestingly familiar voice, and wraps them in an exquisite acoustic setting. Phillips is also as skilled as an ancient troubadour at telling a sad tale with a gorgeous tune: while the music is lullaby-gentle, the vague story sketched is a foreboding one, evoking a journey through a dark, enveloping night in which, sings the story’s narrator, “Time hangs like a noose before me.” “Far End of the Night” can be found on Virginia Creeper, released earlier this year on Zoe Records; the MP3 is located on the SXSW.com site.

“The Wait” – the Pieces

I’m beginning to think that every city in the United States has its own version of the Fountains of Wayne, its own smart, history-savvy rock band ready to offer catchy, guitar-based pop to a world rather starved for the stuff. The Pieces appear to be Indianapolis’s entry in the game, and a smart, savvy entry they are. While not as giddily brilliant as Fountains of Wayne at their best (e.g. “Mexican Wine,” “Red Dragon Tattoo,” “Radiation Vibe”), “The Wait” is a fine little tune with any number of nuggets of pleasure to enjoy along the way. Right off I love the tumble of chords that are packed together in the introduction, and how they settle on the actual key through the musical side door. The melody has the inevitable touch of Beatle-ish-ness to it, an effect augmented by guitarist/singer/songwriter Vess (?) Ruhtenberg’s quasi-Lennonesque voice. I also like how the band incorporates bassist Heidi Gluck’s vocals into the sound, something that stands them apart from forebears such as Big Star and the dBs, not to mention the Beatles; come to think of it, there aren’t a whole lot of power pop bands featuring male-female harmonies. The moment in the middle where Gluck comes to the fore on the line “This is the part I hate” is a small but wonderful touch. (Gluck apparently sings lead occasionally as well.) “The Wait” can be found on the band’s self-titled debut CD, released last year on Benchmark Records. The MP3 comes from the Benchmark Records web site.

“Silence” – Kate Earl

A little bit Dusty Springfield, a little bit Ricki Lee Jones, newcomer Kate Earl exhibits a good deal of something else all her own on this haunting bit of retro-soul (blue-eyed variety). Earl creates a masterful, unabashed Dusty in Memphis vibe (the strings! the flute!), but infused with an engaging sense of innocence, intimacy, and spontaneity. I fear the MP3 itself is a bit cloudy, sound-wise (although maybe it’s just my overtaxed, six-year-old computer), but the song is still worth hearing. Born in Alaska, living now in California, Earl is slated to release a CD on the Santa Monica-based label Record Collection some time in the presumably near future, presumably featuring this song; the MP3 in the meantime can can be found on Earl’s web site.

“You Only Move Twice” – Jeniferever

A Swedish band with a penchant for long, spacious songs, Jeniferever appears to be inspired partly by the grand, spacey Icelandic band Sigur Ros and partly by the more structured, instrument-based spaciness of Radiohead or even Wilco. One of only four songs on the 37-minute EP Iris, “You Only Move Twice” is propelled by a harmonic-laced riff, a fractured sense of time and beat, and singer Kristofer’s ragged-weary-breathy vocals. The song has a cool enough vibe to keep me engaged for a quite a while, but then really hooks me with an unexpected turn of events about four minutes in, when the vocals drop away, the underlying syncopated beat is stripped down and brought forward, and, then, almost gloriously, an array of real instruments, including horns and strings, are added to the mix, beautifully accentuating the unusual chords and intervals that have characterized the song all along. Then the instruments pull away with a melancholy bit of reverb and the song finishes with another unexpected turn–this time a string coda, which again displays the rather charming musicality of the band in a different setting. Iris was released this month on Big Scary Monster Records, a tiny London-based label. The MP3 comes from the band’s site.

“Nowhere Again” – The Secret Machines

Itchy, driving, and full-bodied, “Nowhere Again” combines the melodrama of the more-influential-than-anyone-realized-they-would-be-at-the-time Echo & the Bunnymen with a 21st-century blast of danceable drone. Okay, so maybe they lifted part of the melody (consciously or not) from the old Kinks nugget “Lola”—what the heck, there are worse starting places, and the song proceeds in other directions before it’s through. “Nowhere Again” creates some of its sonic interest by juxtaposing full-speed and half-speed tempos—in particular offering verses at full-speed, the chorus at half-speed, all against a constant, insistent beat. Not a huge innovation, but it does give the impression of texture when the chords aren’t changing all that much. Likewise helpful are the half-speed piano and guitar flourishes that arrive in the second verse. Singer and guitarist Ben Curtis has a subtle, appealing rumble to his voice in the lower register, an anthemic edge to his upper register singing, and a knack for highlighting stark lyrical phrases along the way. The Secret Machines were assembled in Dallas but have since generated much buzz in their adopted hometown of New York City. “Nowhere Again” comes from the band’s debut CD, Now Here is Nowhere, released in May on Reprise Records (that’s how much buzz they generated–they’re actually on a major label). The MP3 can be found on Epitonic.

“Sleeping and Tooting” – Rachel Goswell

The highly-regarded but spotlight-avoiding Rachel Goswell gained fans as the voice of the woozily atmospheric Slowdive in the early ’90s. When she joined bandmates Neil Halstead and Ian McCutcheon as they morphed into the British-yet-alt-country-ish Mojave 3 in 1996, Goswell retreated to the background, playing bass and singing mostly background vocals as songwriter Halstead took the reins as lead singer. Those who have missed her vocal presence on recent Mojave 3 records will no doubt rejoice at the recent release of her first solo CD, Waves Are Universal (4AD Records), from which this song comes. Although crisp and upbeat, “Sleeping and Tooting” has an engaging air of bittersweetness about it thanks to its repeated use of minor key modulations. Goswell’s airy yet well-rounded voice brings to mind the late, great Kirsty MacColl, which is always a plus in my mind. The song is so full of bright-sounding acoustic instruments and engaging production touches that I willingly overlook its lack of a center–there’s no meaty chorus here to anchor things musically; I find the song scoots by (it’s just three minutes) without completely sinking in. But maybe that’s just me; in any case there are plenty of charms here to make it worth a listen. The American arm of the Beggars Group, which distributes 4AD Records, hosts the MP3.

;”Habite Em Mim” – Arto Lindsay

Once a prominent figure on New York’s so-called “No Wave” scene of the late ’70s, guitarist/producer Arto Lindsay here issues an alluring bit of Brazilian-tinged, jazz-inflected, street-wise pop. Lindsay’s voice is smooth and seductive enough to distract your ear from the vibrant grab-bag of rhythms, competing tones, and sly sonic effects that are going on throughout the song, even as the effects are ultimately what give “Habite Em Mim” its oomph. Heck, I barely notice that he’s slipping back and forth from English to Portuguese, which is a pretty captivating effect itself. “Habite Em Mim” is found on Salt, released in May on Ani DiFranco’s Righteous Babe Records.

“When the Day is Short” – Martha Wainwright

Brother of Rufus, daughter of Kate (McGarrigle) and Loudon (III), 28-year-old Martha Wainwright has played largely to the side and behind the scenes over the years, singing background vocals on albums by her better-known family members–starting with an appearance as a child on Kate & Anna McGarrigle’s 1983 CD Love Over and Over. As it turns out, however, Martha is a singer/songwriter of spirit and intensity in her own right. While her voice has an appealing McGarrigle-ish waver to it, she sings way closer to the edge than her mother and aunt do, sometimes leaving me breathless at the aural risks she takes. I’ve been waiting to hear more since being captivated by her haunting “Year of the Dragon” on the family-filled McGarrigle Hour CD, released back in 1998. “When the Day is Short” has a lilting beat that belies Wainwright’s not fully restrained vocal and lyrical furiosity. The song comes from a recently-released five-song EP (her third) with the eye-opening, R-rated title (which I will partially disguise, in case anyone might be reading this in a setting where such words might be less than appropriate) Bloody Moth–f–king As–ole; the MP3 is located on Wainwright’s web site.

“Seems to Me” – Surefire

While the production values are indie through and through, the resilient pop virtues of the songwriting here give this one a gratifying sheen and powerful presence. After a few measures of ringing arpeggios, the song hits upon a simple but memorable guitar riff; combine that with the minor-key twist of the Byrds-like melody and I feel gripped and ready for a big melodic payoff. But even as the verse drives forward, the apparent chorus doesn’t quite resolve before the song pulls back. Rather than a payoff the song creates a sneaky sort tension, which is extended after the second verse and chorus by a short instrumental break, followed by a restrained bridge, and then, finally, and well worth the wait, the release: a series of wordless, syncopated, interwoven “oh-oh”s arrive to echo the opening guitar riff. While I’m not always a fan of falsetto singing, the way lead singer Ben Stapelman flits in and out of falsetto as the wordless section repeats against increasingly insistent instrumentation is what gives this assured piece of pop its heart, soul, and dynamic core. Surefire is a NYC-based band; “Seems to Me” comes from its debut EP, Solution. The MP3 can be found on the band’s web site. Thanks to Largehearted Boyfor finding this one.

“On Your Way” – the Album Leaf

I like how this song manages to sound both dreamy and grounded at the same time. Part of the effect is achieved through the use of octave harmonies–ah, yes, more falsetto vocals (did I say I didn’t like them?); when paired with lower-register vocals singing the same notes, the result is captivating. Then there’s the way the tinkly, almost desultory bell-like sounds at the aural top of the song work together with a determined and likable drumbeat below. Finally, note how Jimmy LaValle, the multi-instrumentalist who records as the Album Leaf, mixes an extremely reverb-y synthesizer and melodic bassline into the middle of the sound, out of which both the vocals and percussion emerge, dreamily. And yet grounded. “On Your Way” can be found on the Album Leaf’s recently released CD, In a Safe Place. This is LaValle’s second Album Leaf record, but the first one with any vocals–his previous effort was all instrumental. Although from Southern California, LaValle went to Iceland to record the CD, employing musicians from Sigur Rós and other Icelandic bands to help him achieve his atmospheric sound. The MP3 can be found on the Sub Pop Records site.

“It Doesn’t Really Matter” – For Stars

A simple piano refrain over a racing heart-like beat starts “It Doesn’t Really Matter” with a thematically appropriate sense of unresolved tension. I mean, the whole idea of singing about something that doesn’t really matter is a sort of paradox, if you’re inclined to think in that direction. So, okay, the piano, the vague tension, and then comes Carlos Foster’s distinctively fragile tenor, punctuated by crisp, vaguely dissonant electric guitar bursts; the tension accumulates even lyrically, as the first verse culminates with a thought-provoking line—“It doesn’t really matter who you think you are”—that resolves neither melodically nor psychologically. The payoff comes in the chorus, as the guitar becomes a wash of noise under gratifying harmonies and a perfectly resolved melody. A trumpet arrives to add a gentle edge to the restrained instrumental break, then we’re back to a quick verse, this time fleshed out with harmonies, still over the heartbeat beat. One more exultant chorus, a second trumpet solo, and we’re done. Nice stuff. And I’m glad to see For Stars are still around; it’s been long enough since their last CD that I’d been wondering if they existed any more. The song comes from the CD …It Falls Apart, due out June 29 on the label known as Future Farmer Recordings. The MP3 can be found on Insound.

“Welcome to the Middle Ages” – the Playwrights

As hard and fast and angry and assured as an old Jam song, “Welcome to the Middle Ages” finds a new generation pondering the trade-offs of adulthood, with intelligence and venom. The introduction is simply a fade-in on a fuzzy electric din; then with a curt “one-two,” the Playwrights dive in: vocals with declarative authority burst on top of a hard-driving, bass-heavy beat. The song rocks hard, instantly, but the 6/4 time keeps things jittery, and the unexpected instrumentation–hey, another trumpet in this one–and subtle changes keep your ear engaged. The lyrics are charmingly wordy; again the Jam come to mind when I hear singer Aaron Dewey spitting out more syllables than the line theoretically wants to have (“As I get older my conditions get better/But my expectations get lower…”). Located in Bristol, England, the Playwrights have one full-length CD to their name so far—Good Beneath the Radar, which was released in June 2003 by the Bristol-based Sink and Stove Records. “Welcome to the Middle Ages” comes from a Sink and Stove compilation CD called The Hospital Radio Request List Volume 2, which came out in the beginning of June 2004. The MP3 can be found on the band’s site, as well as on the Sink and Stove site.

“Hungry Heart” – Jesse Malin

There’s a good song from Jesse Malin’s new CD that I’ve heard a few times on the radio. So of course I went hunting for a free and legal from the album, which alas don’t appear to exist. While looking on his site, however, I found “Hungry Heart,” and at the risk of turning this into Fragile-Sounding Tenors Week here (see For Stars, above), I could not resist featuring this one as well. Yes it’s the old Bruce Springsteen song, but Malin grabs it by the throat (or maybe that’s his own throat he’s grabbing; he sounds like he’s nearly strangling with odd pronunciations every now and then) and makes it his own. To begin with, he reins in the big, bashing, irresistible beat of the original, stretching it taut and slowing it down against a fuzzed-out guitar. Then Malin takes the aw-shucks, Everyman ache of Springsteen’s version and gives us a Neil Young-meets-Brian-Wilson-at-Tom-Waits’-house vibe. With Springsteen, it was sloppy-goofy; Malin makes it weird-goofy, but I’m not complaining. Perhaps I’m rather too easily impressed when someone takes a familiar song and adds an edge of unfamiliarity to it, but I’m enjoying this. The song was released on a Bruce Springsteen tribute CD compiled by the British magazine Uncut in April 2003.

“Year of the Rat” – Badly Drawn Boy

Woolly-hatted one-man-band Damon Gough returns to the do-it-yourself orchestral style that lent his first CD, The Hour of Bewilderbeast, its distinctive allure. Not that this sound doesn’t have its share of potential pitfalls. I mean, add kettle drums to anyone this earnest and he runs the risk of sounding, shall we say, bombastic. And let’s not even talk about the children’s choir in the chorus. But BDB wins out here, I think, through sheer force of good will. Good will counts for a lot these days, as there is so blessed little of it to go around–or, more accurately, the people who have it are so rarely given a voice in popular culture. So, yeah, the tune is pretty simple, and the sentiments are pretty corny, but it sticks in my head, and I don’t mind it hanging out there. Plus, I get the sense, like with Bewilderbeast, that this song is going to be an idiosyncratic part of an idiosyncratic whole, so much so that taking it out of context probably involves missing a certain amount of its effect. According to the Chinese zodiac, by the way, it is not the actual year of the rat, so I’m thinking he’s making a political statement, telling us hey, buck up, stick together, we’ll get through (“One plus one is one,” he sings; and that’s the name of the CD as well). So the slacker dude in the hat turns out to be one big Harry Nilsson-ish cornball, and I say good for him. The CD, on BDB’s own Twisted Nerve label, released through XL Recordings and Astralwerks, is due out June 21. The MP3 comes from BDB’s web site.

“On the Green” – I Love Math”

The song opens with a fuzzy, automated-sounding rhythm sound that goes on perhaps a little too long–I’m thinking “all right already” when I first hear it–and then, bang, the drum enters off the beat of the automated-sounding rhythm thing, incorporating it in an unanticipated manner. Soon enter guitar, bass, and harmonica, and we’re suddenly in the middle of a home-spun, alt-country-tinged indie pop-rocker. What gives the song such presence, to me, are the extra melodic steps the music takes both in the verse and the chorus. Listen to how the verse doesn’t just stick with the simple, repeated melody from the first two lines (as many songs might) but adds an asymmetrical line that gives the verse a chance to explore a few extra chords before heading back to the beginning. A similar moment of spiffy modulation happens towards the end of the chorus as well–and don’t miss how the band extends this moment the second time the chorus comes around. We’re not talking profound accomplishment here, but the great good melodic energy and vocal charm on display here make this song a keeper. I can find little proof of this group’s existence except on the SXSW.com web site, where you’ll find this MP3. There it says: “I Love Math is John and Jason from The Deathray Davies, Philip Peoples from the Old 97’s and Aaron Kelly who is just a badass.”

“Miracle Drug” – A. C. Newman

Okay, so speaking of Ray Davies (sort of), my goodness, Carl Newman could’ve been understudy for Mr. Davies on the Sleepwalker sessions. Only I don’t imagine Newman was even alive in 1977, when the Kinks released that album. Minor detail. In any case, not only does Newman’s appealingly nasal upper-register singing pay deep homage to Davies, the staccato crunch of the guitar has its own sort of Kink-iness to it as well. “Miracle Drug” isn’t actually that much of a song; the chorus is just one line long (interestingly enough, he sounds rather a lot like John Lennon during this part), and the verses succeed more on the jumpy charm of the guitar-vocal interplay (and of course Newman’s Ray Davies-ness) than on the breadth or depth of the songwriting, but hey it’s summertime–short and catchy is just fine. And, as previously noted here, current rock’n’rollers who love and respect the Kinks gain a fair amount of love and respect on Fingertips from the get-go. “Miracle Drug” is found on Newman’s first solo CD, Slow Wonder, released earlier this month on Matador Records. Newman is otherwise known for being the leader of the Canadian band the New Pornographers. The MP3 comes from the Matador Records web site.

“Discretion” – Pedro the Lion

David Bazan, Pedro the Lion’s mastermind (on some albums he’s the whole band), has a brilliant rock’n’roll voice, burnished by what sounds like an unalleviatable ache. This is a voice that says, “I’m going to tell you a sad story and you’re going to listen.” Here, an incisive, bell-like guitar line propels a tragedy I can’t completely decipher–but any song that starts with the line “Having no idea that his youngest son was dead/The farmer and his sweet young wife slept soundly in his bed” is not heading to a happy place. And yet the song has such presence and verve–Bazan writes long melodies, offers gratifying chord changes, and sings from his soul–that it feels stirring and heroic nonetheless. “Discretion” can be found on Pedro the Lion’s recently released fifth CD, Achilles Heel (Jade Tree). The MP3 is available on the band’s site.

“Captain” – Shapes of Race Cars

You could do worse than blast this song from your car’s sound system with the top down all summer long. Provided it doesn’t rain. And provided you have a convertible. But you get the idea: this here is a big, bashing dollop of tuneful, hard-driving, summer-anthemy energy. Shapes of Race Cars may be a new band, but the fact that they describe themselves as a “power trio” tells me what I need to know. It takes a certain amount of heart and guts to hit the rock scene with just guitar, bass, and drums: there’s no room to hide, no aural space for mushiness or lack of clarity. What’s more, these guys take what could’ve been an effective two and a half minute ditty and open it skillfully into an engaging four and a half minute mini-epic, thanks largely to an instrumental break that starts about two minutes in. Sailing out of chorus harmonies at that point, the song pulls back instrumentally, singer/guitarist Dylan Callaghan turns a high note into a thoughtful couple of “doo-ooo”s which are are mimicked on the guitar, launching a well-crafted, melodic solo that evokes nameless, bygone moments in rock history through both sound and gusto. “Captain” is one of six songs on a new, self-released EP called Apocalypse Hurts; the MP3 is on the band’s web site. Thanks to Largehearted Boy for the heads up.

“Airstream” – Low-Beam

Vaguely off-key keyboards (off-keyboards?) lend an appealing goofiness at the outset, but when the joint male/female lead vocals kick in, “Airstream” takes off, steadily acquiring an unexpected sort of classic majesty, like some great lost late ’70s nugget–“Roadrunner” meets “I Zimbra” meets four 21st-century believers from New London, Connecticut. The repetitive, circular melody works in tandem with the driving rhythm and fuzzy-around-the-edges soundscape to create an inexplicably catchy song–its own sort of cruising with the top down summer song, come to think of it. And fans of unexpected instrumental entrances will no doubt appreciate the muted trumpet that wanders in during the last 50 seconds of this one. The band aims for an admirable sense of cohesiveness both musically and thematically; I like this explanation of the name, from the band’s web site: “Low-beaming is night-driving along the river road on the long way there, navigating by moonlight, almost into the river sometimes. Or out to the lake in a traveling party and shutting the lights off behind the lead car. And full moon motorcycling through the woods, the visual soundtrack equivalent to a CCR song or maybe Elvis in the ghetto.” “Airstream” was first released on a vinyl single in September 2003, then emerged on a six-song EP called Every Other Moment in March of this year; the MP3 is on Last.fm. A full-length CD is in the works.

“The Letter” – PJ Harvey  link no longer available
Energized by its ragged, syncopated beat, “The Letter” shows me within a measure or two that maybe, just maybe, I’ve been listening to a bit too much indie rock of late. Harvey’s raw yet radiant assurance enlivens the music with a rich texture unlikely to be encountered in the lo-fi indie world. One of the most critically acclaimed singer/songwriters to come of age in the the midst of the “alternative rock” eruption of the early ’90s, Harvey is back with her seventh CD, the just-released Uh Huh Her, on Island Records. The deep, fuzzy guitar that lends the song its arresting groove all but hypnotizes me even as Harvey’s words–emerging in bursts between the guitar’s funky drive–snap me to attention, as she effortlessly charges the act of letter-writing with brash eroticism, before resolving into cathartic wailing in the wordless chorus section. Listen to how she enriches the sound in the second verse, as the guitar is supplemented by a mysterious-sounding low-register vocal below and a judiciously added synthesizer above. Unfortunately the song is available through the creaky, ad-crazed Artist Direct site. The link above should take you to a page that allows you access to the download, rather than directly to the song; this is one of those that gives you a license allowing for a limited number of plays.

“You Are Not A Song” – Come Down  link no longer available
This NYC band is going to have to get used to being compared to Radiohead, as both the dreamy, melodic ambiance it creates and singer Mark Pernice’s slurry, emotive voice rather quickly bring the great British band to mind. But sounding like another band is not a bad thing–I mean, “Beatlesque” is not an insult; neither is “Radioheadesque” (although maybe we need a better coinage). To begin with, there are far worse bands to embrace as a major influence. Second, if rock’n’roll is to remain vital in the 21st century, it’s important for sounds to establish themselves independently of any one band–too much fragmentation and there are too many islands, no mainland. Plus, when the band itself has talent, the more one listens, the more the apparently derivative work emerges with its own attributes and charms. I like the engaging interplay between acoustic and electric guitars here, and am particularly enamored of the droning guitar that accompanies much of the way through, adding a subtle ache to an already wistful song. Check out how the drone stutters and reverberates with added intensity in the second verse, but never (quite) overwhelms the melody. “You Are Not A Song” can be found on the band’s self-released Happy Hunting EP; the MP3 is available on the band’s web site.

“Waiting for October” – Polaris  link no longer available
A bouncy slice of good-natured rock’n’roll originally featured on the mid-’90s Nickelodeon show, “The Adventures of Pete & Pete.” I hear a big dose ofSteve Wynn in this track, for you Steve Wynn fans, both in the tone of singer Mark Mulcahy’s friendly voice and in the goofy good energy of the whole thing. One particularly endearing element here for me is the echoey background harmonies in the chorus, recalling another bunch of good-natured rock’n’roll goofballs, Jonathan Richman’s Modern Lovers. Polaris was “Pete & Pete”‘s “house band,” more or less; the band sprang from the core of a Connecticut-based band called Miracle Legion, which featured Mulcahy as singer and songwriter. Mulcahy, in turn, began his career in the mid-’80s as a Michael Stipe-inspired jangly-guitar indie-rocker, but transformed over the years into more of an emotionally forward singer/songwriter type and is said to have inspired none other than Radiohead’s Thom Yorke (him again) somewhere along the way. “Pete & Pete” was one of those shows that acquired a devoted cult following (many fans consider it the best TV show ever, in fact) while operating just below the pop cultural radar screen. The music was a definite part of the show, and “Waiting for October” is apparently a fan favorite. The song can be found on a CD released in 1999 called, simply enough, “Music From The Adventures of Pete & Pete” (Mezzotint Records).