Nothing surprises me anymore

Eclectic Playlist Series 6.07 – July 2019

“Polaroids” is as majestic and affecting a song as a singer/songwriter could hope to write and record, complete with an ear-catching rhyme scheme, emotive vocal work, and nimble interplay between the hypnotic melody and a chord pattern so elegant that its unanticipated gambits register as predestined. Together these elements transform a leisurely-paced six-minute narrative into a spellbinding classic, albeit a classic not a lot of people may know a quarter-century after its release.

Ideally that’s a good part of what I’m offering here–lost classics of one kind or another, from this or that genre, flecked with the intermittent crowd-pleaser for balance and character. I sometimes think of this–whimsically, if not especially accurately–as an exercise in aural feng shui, where the interaction is between the ears and the music rather than the body and physical space. The goal, however, isn’t good luck or bad luck, it’s a sense of aliveness and potency, of the subtle kind that one song, certainly, can offer but I think a disparate and well-blended group of songs can deliver with extra power and, I hope, delight. A playlist should delight, shouldn’t it? Delight is often fostered by a sense of the unexpected. But how unexpected can music be in the context of a single-genre playlist? You see where I’m going with this. I’ll be quiet now and let the music do the rest of the talking.

Random notes:

* I loved “Indian Ocean” from the moment I heard it back in 1996; it struck my ears as an unusually successful modern (at that point) update of the power pop I’ve long held dear. And yet I never ended up learning much about the unusually-named band that recorded this gem, outside of knowing that The Frank & Walters came from Cork, Ireland. By the 2000s, I had assumed they had disbanded without a trace, but now that I’ve belatedly investigated, it turns out that they are still an active band, although more of a regional than an international outfit. I just listened to a song called “Stages,” from their 2016 album Songs For The Walking Wounded, and wow, they’re still doing what they do, still creating music with a distinctive but accessible air about it. The band was originally formed by brothers Paul and Niall Linehan; Paul still fronts the band, while Niall left in 2004. But the beat goes on. Time for me to go back and listen to more of their stuff.

* So in the process of constructing this playlist I discovered that “Midnight Confessions,” a song I’ve had a soft spot for since pre-teenager-hood, was not a Grass Roots original, but a cover of a song recorded the year before by a band called The Ever-Green Blues. Although slightly slowed down from the original, the Grass Roots’ version employed a strikingly similar arrangement, and had the benefit of Hal Blaine, Carol Kaye, and the Wrecking Crew as backing band. You can check out the Ever-Green Blues version on YouTube if you’re curious. While the original version went nowhere chart-wise, a year later the same song became the Grass Roots’ biggest hit.

* So “The Stand” has a needlessly complicated history, made more complicated by robotic internet misinformation. The song came out as a single in April 1983, and then was wrapped into the band’s debut eponymous EP in June that same year. In 1984, a longer version of the song was released on a 12-inch “maxi-single” called The Chant Has Just Begun. And then in 1990, this longer version was released on a compilation album called Standards (“Stand-ards”; get it?). But a good portion of the internet is fooled by the presence of a one-minute, fifteen-second song called “The Stand (Prophecy)” that appears on the group’s full-length 1984 release, Declaration: on YouTube, the long version of “The Stand” comes accompanied by the Declaration album cover, and on Wikipedia, “The Stand” is identified as a single from the album. The super-short version on the album–not the single–seems to be a glimpse at the more acoustic-based way the song was originally written. The lyrics by the way were inspired by the post-apocalyptic Stephen King novel of the same name, and intended as a heartfelt protest against nuclear proliferation. Some things never get old.

* You had of course the Beatles and the Stones, Hendrix and The Who, and all sorts of other iconic artists that come to mind when you think of the music of the 1960s. But for me, in my own childhood memory of that time, probably nothing says “the ’60s” to me as potently as the music of Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass. Ridiculous? Maybe, maybe not. Look at the facts: between 1965 and 1968, the Brass released seven albums; five of them went to #1 on the charts, the other two peaked at #2 and #4. If you happened to be a musically impressionable youngster at that exact moment in time, the stuff just imprinted itself on your psyche. There, it seems, it remains, for some of us.

* And then there’s Lene Lovich, a singular star in the new wave firmament of the late ’70s and early ’80s, who rose and faded abruptly, her quirkiness at once her advantage and her undoing. “It’s You, Only You (Mein Schmerz)” comes from her neglected 1982 album No Man’s Land, which I picked up a while back for a few dollars on vinyl in the discount crate of a local record store. As it turns out, after many years away from the music scene, Lovich released an album in 2005 called Shadows and Dust, which I missed entirely; she started actively touring again in 2015. She is now 70, which causes me mein own kind of schmerz. Time time time. You can by the way, rather unexpectedly, check No Man’s Land out on Bandcamp.

Full playlist below the widget.

“Indian Ocean” – The Frank and Walters (Indian Ocean EP, 1997)
“Nova” – Baula (Nova, 2017)
“Was I On Your Mind” – Jesse Baylin (Firesight, 2008)
“Stand!” – Sly and the Family Stone (Stand!, 1969)
“Loneliness” – Horslips (The Man Who Built America, 1978)
“Polaroids” – Shawn Colvin (Fat City, 1992)
“More and More Amor” – Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass (Going Places, 1965)
“It’s You, Only You (Mein Schmerz)” – Lene Lovich (No Man’s Land, 1982)
“I Wasn’t Her” – The Blueflowers (Watercolor Ghost Town, 2009)
“Joanne” – Michael Nesmith (Magnetic South, 1970)
“Motion Sickness” – Phoebe Bridgers (Stranger in the Alps, 2017)
“Something to Believe In” – The Ramones (Animal Boy, 1986)
“How Can You Mend a Broken Heart” – Al Green (Let’s Stay Together, 1972)
“Pot Kettle Black” – Wilco (Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, 2002)
“Midnight Confessions” – The Grass Roots (single, 1968)
“Not Too Soon” – Throwing Muses (The Real Ramona, 1992)
“Ponteio” – Astrid Gliberto and Stanley Turrentine (Gilberto With Turrentine, 1971)
“I Already Forgot Everything You Said” – The Dig (Midnight Flowers, 2012)
“The Stand” – The Alarm (long version; single, 1984)
“Adventure” – Be Your Own Pet (Be Your Own Pet, 2006)

Keep your eyes open

Eclectic Playlist Series 6.06 – June 2019

I thought last month’s mix was one of the better ones I’ve concocted, and yet there it was, with the meagerest number of listeners to date. Good thing I’m not doing this for fame and fortune! Thanks to the loyal core here–you know who you are. I believe in the value of creative work, and in the value of our culture’s diverse musical legacy. If 2019’s hyper-capitalist, click-centered world is screwed up beyond the ability to separate the worthy from the worthless, the delightful from the despicable, well, how surprising is that? Elizabeth Warren says, rightfully, that capitalism without regulation is theft; I would add that capitalism without human values is, well, capitalism. Where we have ended up, with the failed steak salesman as leader of the free world, is pretty much the logical end result of an amoral system. A microscopic audience for quality playlists is the least of my worries. But, if you’re here, I hope you enjoy the ever-eclectic mix….

Random notes:

* The accepted story is that the Strokes lost their magic after their first two albums, but here’s a song from their 2011 album Angles that stands up to anything else they’ve recorded, to my ears. I have no idea what Casablancas is singing about, of course, but “Under the Cover of Darkness” nevertheless acquires so much delightful musical momentum as it unfolds that it makes me want to jump out of my seat with glee by the time it’s halfway through.

* I recently saw a short video essay by Jeff Tweedy in which he extolled the benefits of listening to music that you don’t like. He says he’s learned that his initial reactions to music can be based on preconceived notions and/or aversions that may be irrational, and that it’s worthwhile to make an effort to overcome these things. Which brings me to Rush, a band I definitely used to have an aversion to, preconceived notions about, you name it. These were formed when I worked in college radio, caught up in a cohort as passionate about music as we were unintentionally close-minded. I still don’t love Geddy Lee’s voice but I have to admire the musicianship on display, and the band’s efforts to pack complexities into radio-friendly material. As soon as I was able to open my little mind up to the possibility that I didn’t hate everything they recorded, a song like “Limelight” was able to reveal its charms.

* Brenda Kahn, back in the ’90s, gave us one of the sharpest and most distinctive singer/songwriter albums of the era. Epiphany in Brooklyn, released in 1992, had enough muscle and momentum to break through to alternative-rock radio stations (remember “I Don’t Sleep, I Drink Coffee Instead”?), and enough craft and spirit to promise great things to come. Then her record company–a Columbia Records imprint–folded two weeks before her follow-up release. She continued touring and releasing records independently through the ’90s but without the mainstream notice the first record garnered. Eventually she left music behind, to concentrate on raising her children. I only recently discovered that she’s been making music again here in the 21st century; I entirely missed Seven Laws of Gravity when it came out in 2010, but happily stumbled upon it a couple of months ago.

* Cate Le Bon has the distinction of being the answer to a trivia question no one asks, which is: have I ever, by mistake, featured the same song by the same artist twice within the Eclectic Playlist Series? Turns out I have: the Cate Le Bon song “Are You With Me Now”?” ended up both in EPS 3.03 in March 2016 and in EPS 4.05 in May 2017. Go figure.

* Graham Parker, on the other hand, I haven’t managed to feature until now. He fell into that category of “hard to choose just one so I won’t choose any” artists. And, to be frank, despite how vital and wonderful many of his songs remain, his overall sound just doesn’t seem to want to blend in to an overall mix, somehow. I’ve tried many times, for instance, to work the amazing “Discovering Japan” in and it just won’t go. “Something You’re Going Through” has its pseudo-reggae-ishness going for it in the context of a eclectic mix, plus its perennially useful advice, which I’ve borrowed this month for the title.

Full playlist below the widget.

“Under the Cover of Darkness” – The Strokes (Angles, 2011)
“There’s Nothing Else to Say” – The Incredibles (single, 1967)
“Falling is a Form of Flying” – Pal Shazar (There’s a Wild Thing in the House, 1995)
“Something You’re Going Through” – Graham Parker & The Rumour (Heat Treatment, 1976)
“St. Thomas” – Sonny Rollins (Saxophone Collosus, 1956)
“The Consequences of Falling” – k.d. lang (Invincible Summer, 2000)
“Limelight” – Rush (Moving Pictures, 1981)
“Chelsea Morning” – Joni Mitchell (Clouds, 1969)
“I’m On My Way” – Rhiannon Giddens & Francesco Turrisi (there is no Other, 2019)
“Guitar Swing” – The Winks (Birthday Party, 2006)
“I Wish I Was Your Mother” – Mott the Hoople (Mott, 1973)
“Regular Job” – Brenda Kahn (Seven Laws of Gravity, 2010)
“Wheel of Evil” – In Tua Nua (The Long Acre, 1988)
“I Really Love You” – The Tomangoes (single, 1968)
“The Crying Scene” – Aztec Camera (Stray, 1990)
“Black Hearted Love” – PJ Harvey (A Woman A Man Walked By, 2009)
“99 Miles From L.A.” – Art Garfunkel (Breakaway, 1975)
“Daylight Matters” – Cate Le Bon (Reward, 2019)
“Moment of Weakness” – Syreeta (With You I’m Born Again [import], 1990)
“Grey Seal” – Elton John (Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, 1973)

Free and legal MP3: Alejandra O’Leary (squonky midtempo rocker, w/ melodic twists)

Combining an assured employment of squonky guitars with satisfying melodic momentum, “Wires” quickly brings the ear back to the heyday of early ’90s alternative rock at its most accessible.

“Wires” – Alejandra O’Leary

Combining an assured employment of squonky guitars with satisfying melodic momentum, “Wires” quickly brings the ear back to the heyday of early ’90s alternative rock at its most engaging. This feels like a nice thing to hear with a fresh coat of 2019 paint. And, as with some of the best material from that era (think Belly, think Garbage), “Wires” isn’t content staying exactly in one place and phoning it in from there. Hang in through the chorus (0:50-1:05) and you get an even higher level of songwriting payout, as the melody there expands in buoyant, unexpected directions.

I love how the song feels slightly unhinged and tightly controlled at the same time, with O’Leary’s clear-toned voice steering us through its twists and turns. You may notice that the verse disappears after its second go-round, replaced by a repeating bridge-like section (1:51) that offers its own hooks. And if you’ve been patiently waiting for those crunchy guitars to break out, your dividend arrives at 2:45, when O’Leary leaves off in mid-lyric for a few moments of concluding instrumental frenzy.

O’Leary is a half-Colombian, half-Irish singer/songwriter based in Portland, Maine. “Wires” is the lead track from Everest, which will be released next week. You can listen to the album, and buy it, via Bandcamp. Her back catalog of three albums and an EP are also there and worth investigating.

Free and legal MP3: Middle Kids

Terrific new song from top-notch band

“Real Thing” – Middle Kids

The gifted Australian trio Middle Kids is back with a follow-up release to its superb 2018 album, Lost Friends; we remain in excellent hands.

“Real Thing” pulses with an off-kilter rhythm section, navigated with nonchalance by smoky-voiced frontwoman/guitarist Hannah Joy. The melody starts casually, on the second beat of the measure, much of it double-time, comprising a lot of words but only a couple of different notes. I get from this a sense of escalation, which gets suspended by a verse extension in which the melody slows down and expands, right on the resonant phrases “hopeless romantics, anxiety magnets” (0:25). We retreat briefly into the opening melody before advancing into what we’ve been waiting for: the killer chorus. Middle Kids are in fact masters of the killer chorus; for evidence look no further than the song “Mistake,” from Lost Friends (and featured here on at the beginning of the year on EPS 6.01), which still gives me goose bumps.

What makes the chorus here work so well feels like a magic trick. It neither attempts to pound a simplified musical phrase into your head nor relies on a flagrantly memorable chord change. The most noticeable thing it does is alternate double- and single-time lines; the other prominent feature is its asymmetry: the way the third line doesn’t directly mirror the first line, as the ear expects, but extends an extra measure. And right there, somehow, is the hook, when Joy sings, “Are you like me, do you lie awake thinking?” (0:44) The line illustrates an ongoing feature of Joy’s presentation, which subtly fluctuates between phrases that seem slightly slurred or indistinct and those that jump out with precision. The chorus finishes with some wordless vocal leaps that now show how much more elastic Joy’s range is than you might initially expect (0:50-1:00). Somehow, altogether, the effect is brilliant.

Lastly, note the guitar work throughout. The band presents as a trio but uses an extra guitar in the mix, and when performing live. As you listen, it’s worth reminding yourself that this is a completely guitar-based band; all the heft and drive of their sound on top of the rhythm section comes from guitars. They’re kind of a glorious anomaly that way here in 2019, with no laptop twiddling or sampling going on. And look, I’ve got nothing against technology per se but dislike when sounds become fads and in any case look to music as something requiring intellectual, emotional, and physical skill, generated by vibrations arising from three-dimensional reality (plucked or hammered strings; breath disturbing the air). These guys, to quote their own song, are the real thing.

You’ll find this track on Middle Kids’ brand-new six-track mini album New Songs For Old Problems, released last week. Grab it for just $5.99 at Bandcamp, where you’ll also want to buy Lost Friends if you don’t already have it. MP3 via The Current.



(Note that MP3s from The Current are available in files that are 128kbps, which is below the iTunes standard of 192kbps, not to mention the higher-def standard of 320kbps. I personally don’t hear much difference on standard-quality equipment but if you are into high-end sound you’ll probably notice something. In any case I always encourage you to download the MP3 for the purposes of getting to know a song via a few listens; if you like it I still urge you to buy the music. It’s the right thing to do.)

Free and legal MP3: Claude Fontaine (hazy neo-bossa nova)

Claude Fontaine

“Pretending He Was You” – Claude Fontaine

“Pretending He Was You” sweeps you immediately into a world in which hazy neo-bossa-nova feels like a natural, contemporary means of expression—a world in which a dreamy, whispery female singer commands so much unequivocal authority you wonder why anyone ever has to shout.

The vibe is impeccable, and so is the songwriting. Heeding not in the least today’s call to truncate songs for battered attention spans, “Pretending He Was You” lopes to a sultry beat, its languid melody line spreading itself out over 15 measures—notable both for its general length and its ability to wrap itself up so smoothly at that odd moment, structurally speaking. (Most melody lines in rock’n’roll genres carry on for four or eight measures, or very occasionally for 16.) The effect is beguiling and effortless.

A singer/songwriter based in Los Angeles, Fontaine discovered vintage tropical music by accident one day in a record store while living in London for a year, and it literally changed her life. The store was Honest Jon’s, on Portobello Road, and, as she tells it, she began badgering them daily to play for her as many records from tropical genres and sub-genres as they had. Which led her, first, to start writing songs in bygone styles like rocksteady and tropicalia; and then—a testament to her obsession—she enlisted, to record with her, session players with authentic experience, including, for instance, on this track, drummer Airto Moreira, who played in the ’70s with Astrud Gilberto and Antonio Carlos Jobim, among many others.

“Pretending He Was You” is the sixth of 10 tracks on her very groovy self-titled debut, released in April. The record is consciously divided into the Jamaica side (first five songs) and the Brazil side (second five). “I hope this record will transport people,” Fountaine has said. “I wanted it to feel like those lost records, like it got lost in the bottom bin of some world music store in London because that’s how I felt when I walked in to that record store. I wanted it to be its own world.”

MP3 via KEXP. Do yourself a favor and listen to the whole album, via Bandcamp. You can buy it there too, including a vinyl version, which I am feeling very tempted right now to indulge in.

Free and legal MP3: Charly Bliss (enticing, contemporary pop rock)

To show you I’m not averse to music sounding rather more up-to-the-minute, here’s a three-minute, forty-two-second slice of 2019 pop goodness from the Brooklyn quartet Charly Bliss.

Charly Bliss

“Capacity” – Charly Bliss

To show you I’m not averse to music sounding rather more up-to-the-minute, here’s a three-minute, forty-two-second slice of 2019 pop goodness from the Brooklyn quartet Charly Bliss. Of course my idea of pop goodness in 2019 is not necessarily what appears on your basic “Top 50” Spotify playlist, but whatever. The public wants what the public gets, as Paul Weller tartly framed capitalism’s fatal flaw some 40 years ago.

In my little world, the public gets something like “Capacity,” and wants it. From the start, the contrast between the buzzy heft of the synth bass line and Eva Grace Hendricks’ girl-ish vocal style arrests the ear. (She has self-described her vibe as “overgrown teenybopper.”) The song then leads you through three distinct sections, each more enticing than the last, culminating in a chorus that hooks us, somewhat unusually, by slowing things down (0:49), with Hendricks luxuriating in a dreamy melody line with a gratifying resolution and a punctuating drum roll worthy of an arena rock band.

There are in fact any number of engaging production touches fortifying the composition from beginning to end. I like how the active, noodly synthesizer that enters after the song’s first section proceeds to weave in and around Hendricks in the song’s double-time second section. Or how about that one strummed guitar chord that acts as the gateway to the chorus (0:48), which is at once out of the blue and just kind of wonderful? No doubt we can credit a lot of this to the band’s bringing Joe Chiccarelli on board as producer; he’s a veteran who has worked with an incredible variety of artists over the years, from Elton John and U2 through to My Morning Jacket, the Strokes, and the Shins. Expertise!: what a concept.

The four members of Charly Bliss, meanwhile, have known each other quite a long time for relative youngsters—Eva H.’s brother Sam is the drummer; bassist Dan Shure is a friend from childhood; and Shure introduced relative newcomer Spencer Fox, the lead guitarist, to the others back in the second half of the ’00s.

“Capacity” is the lead single from Young Enough, the band’s second album, released earlier this month on Barsuk Records. You can buy it in a variety of formats via the record company. MP3 via Barsuk.

Drop the other shoe (Eclectic Playlist Series 6.05 – May 2019)

You know the drill: it’s another mixed-genre, multi-decade playlist, inspired as always by the heyday of so-called “progressive” radio stations. Only think about how many more decades of music we have at our disposal than the DJs had back in the mid-’70s! Such opportunity here, once we break out of this fever-dream of separation and isolation. Give it a try, tell your friends, and stay strong. You may notice a bit of a netherworld-related interlude here; let it serve to remind us of Churchill’s famous piece of advice: “If you’re going through Hell, keep going.”

Random notes:

* “We All Go Back To Where We Belong” was the last official R.E.M. release and maybe we had a bit of R.E.M. fatigue at that point, still unconvinced that the Bill-Berry-free version was ever really any good, but I feel in retrospect this song was kind of just kind quickly heard and then forgotten. To my ears, it’s a fabulous song, with bonus points for the charming and somehow poignant video, which is just a black-and-white close-up of the actress Kirsten Dunst listening to the song in real time. (As the story goes, Michael Stipe was actually singing it to her live, a capella, which she found something of an overwhelming experience, as a long-time fan herself.)

* The Smiths were such a singular-sounding band that they couldn’t really influence anyone else without the influencees sounding merely like pale imitators. “The Headmaster Ritual” was I think the Smiths song that really turned my head around back in their heyday. Who writes these words? Who finds these melodies, and employs these chords? Still gives me goosebumps if I really stop to listen.

* “Presidential Rag” sounds kind of quaint now, huh? Being worked up over a president who didn’t admit everything that he knew? Now we have one who is too stupid to know what he doesn’t know, leading a cult of hatred and resentment whose members don’t give a fuck. Someone should write a song as good as this about *that*.

* Hadestown, now on Broadway, was just nominated for 14 Tony Awards last month. But the project has been around since 2006, when singer/songwriter Anaïs Mitchell first put it together as a community theater production in Vermont. Four years later, with the help of Ani DiFranco, Hadestown became a concept album, on DiFranco’s Righteous Babe Records, with a number of stellar guest vocalists, including Justin Vernon, Greg Brown, and DiFranco herself. The song “Flowers” first came to my attention early in 2010 as a free and legal download, which was featured here in February of that year. Still a stunning piece of music. (Also stunning, especially in retrospect, is the song “Why We Build The Wall,” which you might want to check out here—https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8sQ8R54C53o—and think about in conjunction with Arlo’s sense of righteous grievance.)

* Were Adam and the Ants, all the rage in the UK for a year or two, merely a novelty band? Probably. But a song like “Antmusic,” as silly as the words may be when simply read, was constructed with such great pop know-how that I find it irresistible still, nearly 40 years later.

* “In a Long White Room” is a fun example of a straight-laced standards-oriented songwriter doing their best to dive into the psychedelic vibe of the late ’60s. The end result is not really psychedelic at all, but it’s oddly engaging in the effort. The lyrics here came from Martin Charnin, whose career soon enough led him to Broadway, where he hit it big for having conceived, directed, and written the lyrics for the musical Annie. The music was written by Texas songwriter Clint Ballard, Jr., who also wrote the songs “Game of Love” and “You’re No Good,” among many others that were not big hits. As much as I appreciate talented singer/songwriters, I guess I remain rather entranced by the pre-singer/songwriter days, and connecting unexpected dots between who wrote what. On top of all this, kind of a weird song for Nancy Wilson, but it’s the one of hers, from my long-ago childhood, I recall most vividly.

Full playlist below the widget.

“Presidential Rag” – Arlo Guthrie (Arlo Guthrie, 1974)
“Pedrinho” – Tulipa Ruiz (TU, 2017)
“Angels” – Peter Holsapple & Chris Stamey (Mavericks, 1991)
“To Be Gone” – Anna Ternheim (Halfway to Fivepoints, 2008)
“Antmusic” – Adam and the Ants (Kings of the Wild Frontier, 1980)
“Ask the Lonely” – The Fantastics (single, 1970)
“Come a Long Way” – Michelle Shocked (Arkansas Traveler, 1992)
“Heart Full of Soul” – The Yardbirds (single, 1965)
“The Headmaster Ritual” – The Smiths (Meat is Murder, 1985)
“Imposter” – Jonatha Brooke (Imposter EP, 2019)
“In a Long White Room” – Nancy Wilson (Nancy, 1969)
“Carolyn” – Steve Wynn (Kerosene Man, 1990)
“See No Evil” – Television (Marquee Moon, 1977)
“Flowers” – Anaïs Mitchell (Hadestown, 2010)
“Lucifer Sam” – Pink Floyd (The Piper at the Gates of Dawn, 1967)
“The Pharaohs” – Neko Case (Middle Cyclone, 2009)
“Caught” – Anna Domino (Anna Domino, 1986)
“A Hit By Varèse” – Chicago (Chicago V, 1972)
“Didn’t Cha Know” – Erykah Badu (Mama’s Gun, 2000)
“We All Go Back to Where We Belong” – R.E.M. (single, 2011)

Free and legal MP3: Lauran Hibberd (terrific rocker w/ old-school crunch)

With satisfying, old-school crunch, “Hoochie” is the kind of song that reacquaints the ear with how simple and vital a rock song can yet be, here in our beleaguered 21st century.

Lauran Hibberd

“Hoochie” – Lauran Hibberd

With satisfying, old-school crunch, “Hoochie” is the kind of song that reacquaints the ear with how simple and vital a rock song can yet be, here in our beleaguered 21st century: guitars still excite, catchy and uncomplicated melodies still delight, and can still be put in service of sardonic young folks, especially those possessed of the right combination of charisma and purpose, as young Isle of Wight singer/songwriter Lauran Hibberd surely is. (And that’s no typo: it’s Lauran with an “a.”)

One of the main glories of rock’n’roll, well illustrated by “Hoochie,” is how musical strength renders all in its path worthy of attention. I’m not sure, for instance, that the lyrics here would be all that impressive if stripped from the music and read aloud, but the point is that this doesn’t matter in the slightest. Riding on top of this heroic groove, nestled in their textured setting, and delivered with Hibberd’s casual aplomb, the words acquire a primal sort of substance that supersedes precise meaning on the one hand, and then (this is the extra magic) delivers a new level of meaning on the other. I’m not sure I can explain this properly, but for me, the lyrics in a great rock song often don’t need to be paid close attention to and yet, then, as they present as an intrinsic part of the sonic experience, become great in their own inscrutable way. This is why it’s not often necessary to pay close attention to lyrics, even as the words nonetheless become a pivotal part of the final package.

Anyway, give this one a few listens and maybe you’ll sense that extra magic going on here too. If I were still tracking my Top 10 songs of the year, I have no doubt that this would end up there in December. You can check out all of Hibberd’s releases, six songs to date, on SoundCloud. “Hoochie” is her latest and, to my ears, best—so far.

Free and legal MP3: Shana Cleveland

Lonesome western vibe

Shana Cleveland

“Face of the Sun” – Shana Cleveland

So one thing I’ve learned after reviewing songs here for the past (now) 16 years is that one of my signature sweet spots is when contradictory elements coexist in one piece of music. An easy example of this from the realm of pop music is a song that sounds happy but has sad lyrics.

Another example: songs with slow melodies and fast accompaniments—such as this one, from Shana Cleveland. Note that musical juxtapositions such as this often happen a bit below conscious recognition. For instance, only after sitting down to write this, a process that involves a lot of close listening, did I actively notice what was going on musically beyond a basic “Hey! I like this!” Once I was paying closer attention, however, I found that the song announces itself right from the start, with that leisurely slide guitar motif working against a rapid-fire acoustic guitar, mixed far enough down that the ear picks it up more as rhythm than notes or chords. When Cleveland begins the verse (0:18), her reverbed voice mimicking the slide guitar, she luxuriates in the deliberate pace of the melody, and in the general lonesome-western vibe, even as the acoustic guitar continues its tense support. Once you notice it it’s not subtle at all, but because a piece of music by necessity presents itself as a whole—the ear is forced to listen in real time—separate elements are easy to overlook, whether in isolation or in conjunction with other elements. This is in fact precisely what I make an effort to listen for in doing these reviews; my intention all along has been less to say “I like this” (anyone can do that) than to try to tease out as precisely as possible what it is I’m liking about it.

Another enjoyable bit of subtlety in “Face of the Sun” is how the verse and the chorus are differentiated more by choices in accompaniment than in melody or structure—first, the introduction of backing harmonies (0:56); and second, the insertion of a conspicuous chord change in between the two sections of lyrics (1:10-1:13). This is surely as nuanced a way to say “Here’s the chorus” as you are usually likely to hear. Even in its closing moment, the song offers us a subtle gesture: that descending guitar line starting at 3:21, four notes long, strongly implies one last resolving note that it pulls up short of delivering. And yet as that last note is held for a few seconds, the ear manages to hear resolution in that unresolved. This is a very subtle effect, which I may be entirely imagining, but it feels aligned with the song’s sense of playful mystery, so there you are.

Shana Cleveland, based in Seattle, is the lead guitarist and vocalist for the group La Luz (who have been featured here previously, in February 2013). “Face of the Sun” is a track from her recently released second solo album, Night of the Worm Moon. You can listen to a few more songs from the album, and buy it (digital, CD, vinyl, cassette) on Bandcamp. MP3 via KEXP.

Free and legal MP3: Strand of Oaks (anthemic indie rock)

This may be a slow build, but it’s not just a tedious beat; there are expressive lyrics, and, best of all, an impressively well-built melody.

Strand of Oaks

“Weird Ways” – Strand of Oaks

I am not often a fan of the slow build, I will admit that up front. In particular I usually run screaming from songs that have introductions that are both slow and long; bonus (negative) points for being overly repetitious. I’m always thinking, “This is a friggin’ pop song! Get to the point!”

But what we have here with “Weird Ways” is a slow build I’m down with. For one thing, the singing starts right away. This may be a slow build, but it’s not just a tedious beat; there are expressive lyrics, and, best of all, an impressively well-built melody. Things may not entirely cohere in your ear during this slow introductory section, but when the song opens up at 1:30, abetted now by riff and backbeat, we soon get re-introduced to the opening melody and can hear it now in all its anthemic glory. This is the kind of melody that feels classic as soon as you hear it in this setting.

A minute later, the song veers into misty reverie, but with enough texture and pulse to keep things interesting. A minute after that, a head-bobbing bridge, with layered vocals, leads into a big-time guitar solo. The bridge returns nearly a minute later, with additional drama in the vocal layers, culminating in a portentous sustain that closes things out. So much going on! But wait a minute. What happened to that anthemic melody? We hear the last of it at around the two-and-a-half-minute mark of a nearly six-minute song. As a listener, this is maybe slightly frustrating but also slyly engaging. Look, Strand of Oaks mastermind Timothy Showalter could have easily given us more of that haunting refrain but consciously decided not to. Part of it relates to the wise dictum of “Always leave them wanting more.” But he could have done that with, simply, a short song. “Weird Ways” is a long song, but only about a minute of it delivers its rousing, straightforward hook. Given that the lyrics, as much as I can follow them, talk about leaving something established behind while finding an unanticipated new path, I’m surmising that the music here is intended as thematic corroboration. Maybe ear-pleasing melodies come too easily for Showalter; maybe his soul is calling him in another direction. Or, maybe I’m reading too much into what is no more or less than an excellent 21st-century rock song.

Born in Indiana and based in Philadelphia, Showalter has now recorded five studio albums as Strand of Oaks, plus an adjunct album of demos, b-sides, and alternate takes. “Weird Ways” is the opening track on his most recent album, Eraserland, released earlier this year. MP3 via KEXP. You can buy Eraserland (digital, CD, vinyl) at Bandcamp. (Thanks to Glorious Noise for the screen cap!)