Fingertips

Free and legal MP3: Jesca Hoop (not all vocal processing is evil)

The song’s dizzy momentum is bewitching, and for all the electronic processing, its human core is both obvious and dazzling.

“Born To” – Jesca Hoop

With all of the vexation I’ve been feeling these last couple of years regarding Auto-Tune, I’ve forgotten something important: I’ve never had anything against vocal distortion per se. There is absolutely nothing wrong, to me, with the artful use of filters, effects, and so forth. Any number of favored musicians and wonderful songs have employed such tools. In its proper place, Auto-Tune may offer a new range of possibilities for artful vocal distortion as well. (Hint: its over-use by and domination of today’s top 40 does not qualify as “its proper place.”)

I’m not sure whether Jesca Hoop is here using Auto-Tune or some other processing system (probably the latter; perhaps a vocoder), but the main point to my ears is that you can hear, viscerally, the quality of her singing voice (not to mention her songwriting voice), regardless of what she’s doing to process the sound. And this blending of the natural and the man-made appears to be part of the song’s purpose from the very start. The opening riff—brisk and complex and almost thrilling—is played on acoustic guitar and yet set in a hazily processed soundscape. Her voice arrives in a similar brew, full of both spirit and artifice. The song’s dizzy momentum is bewitching, and for all the electronic processing, its human core is both obvious and dazzling. Contrast this to the cynical, sheep-like use of Auto-Tune in the pop world, effecting little more than the addition of a metallic/robotic edge to the vocal that will sound fad-like and pointless once we emerge culturally from our trance-like attachment to it.

Hoop is an adventurous singer/songwriter who was born in Northern California, grew up Mormon, lived as a homesteader in Western wilderness areas, worked for five years as the nanny for Tom Waits and Kathleen Brennan’s children (no, really), and picked up and moved to Manchester, England in 2009 at the encouragement of Elbow’s Guy Garvey. “Born To” is a song from her forthcoming album, The House That Jack Built, scheduled for release in June on Bella Union. Hoop was previously featured here in 2007.

Free and legal MP3: Jonka (neo-’80s electro pop, w/ soul)

“Every Other Day” burns with the booty-shaking resolve of an old Hot Chocolate song, channeled through the ’80s electro-pop stylebook.

“Every Other Day” – Jonka

A textbook exercise in how to construct a groove, “Every Other Day” burns with the booty-shaking resolve of an old Hot Chocolate song, channeled through the ’80s electro-pop style book, Erasure edition. Listen to how the layers coalesce—first the basic beat, itself an alluring blend of distant-seeming sounds; then the bass, all fat and old-school; then the first foreground element, a slappy, tappy percussive sound playing a jittery series of double-time flourishes. At this point, it’s cool but not necessarily awesome. Awesome arrives with the next two elements: the organ-y synthesizer (0:24) that skitters away seemingly between the beats; and, the pièce de résistance, the high, swooping “oo-oos” (0:32) that deliver the song’s first melody, wordless though it may be.

Beyond the sure groove, what sells “Every Other Day” is Jonka’s commitment to vocal harmonies. Just as the twosome blend their names—Jon Neufeld and Annika Kaye—to create the band’s name, so do they blend their voices in a plush, ongoing layering of harmony not often heard in this musical setting. From the opening lyric, the band mates (a married couple, you should know) sing every word together, and are over-dubbed so that there are at least two of each of them singing at all times. Neufeld’s soulful baritone takes the lead but Kaye’s full-bodied backing vocals are just as important a part of the song’s texture. The song’s melodies, meanwhile, percolate relentlessly upward, giving the song an almost gospel-like sense of uplift.

Neufeld and Kaye live in Brooklyn. Neufeld grew up on Staten Island and Kaye, born in Sweden, was raised in Manhattan. “Every Other Day” is the first song available from the duo’s second album, Pinks and Blues, which is arriving at some unspecified date in the reasonably near future.

Free and legal MP3: Lydia Loveless

Alt-country, no holds barred

“Learn to Say No” – Lydia Loveless

Just 21, Loveless sings from a deep reserve of heart, soul, and older-than-her-years affliction. A cursory listen puts this one in the alt-country-with-an-attitude box (not that there’s anything wrong with that!), but closer inspection reveals a gratifying depth to both her singer and songwriter sides.

To begin with there’s her voice, a potent combination of anger and sadness; she navigates the pain-filled lyrics (“Why does it take so much out of me/To be this weak?”) teetering between control and breakdown. You can hear it in the tiniest moments, like the way she sings the word “I” in the phrase “when I’m usually wrong” (0:21)—there’s a lot of emotion buried in that condensed flutter that aches out and is quickly reeled back in. Or, the way she chokes out the word “someday” at the beginning of the the chorus the second time through (1:50). Reinforcing the impression that she probably never sings the same word the same way twice is a song that offers subtle changes throughout its development. We don’t hear the signature guitar riff until 1:10, and when the verses return after the chorus, the melody has been subtly changed, which you can hear most clearly at the pause that appears at 1:27—a nice moment that has no equivalent point when the verses were initially presented.

Loveless, raised in rural Ohio, has a complicated back story, but the upshot is she has been playing professionally since she was 13 and quickly fell into habits and behaviors not necessarily associated with the middle-school-aged, to put it delicately. After being in the new-wavey band Carson Drew with her sisters and her father, Loveless released her first solo album in 2010. “Learn To Say No” is from album number two, Indestructible Machine, which has been out on Bloodshot Records since September. The song has been floating around the internet since at least December but it just came to my attention last week, thanks to Largehearted Boy. ~~MP3 via Bloodshot Records, and there’s one more free and legal MP3 from the album available via the record company.~~ Note that the label also sells a beverage cooler/holder that says “DRINK MORE. LOVE LESS,” which has a certain pugnacious charm about it.

Fingertips Q&A: Theresa Andersson

Theresa Andersson answers five questions about the state of music in the digital age.

Sweden-born, New Orleans-based musician Theresa Andersson first turned heads in 2008, when her kitchen-made video for the song “Na Na Na” inadvertently became a YouTube sensation. She had made the video to help potential venues understand the nature of her one-woman-band live performances. In the process, she made the use of electronic effects (in this case, loop pedals) look unusually charming.

Andersson was featured here in January for her song “What Comes Next,” at that point an advance track from her album Street Parade. The album, full of similarly alluring musical concoctions, is being released this week on NOLA’s Basin Street Records. And yet, Andersson, embracing the realities of the 21st-century music scene, sees recorded music as secondary to live performance, which is where, as she says, she makes the real connection with the listener.

The Fingertips Q&A, for the uninitiated, is a recurring feature. More than 30 artists to date have participated. The Q&A’s sole intent is to allow actual, workaday 21st-century musicians a forum for discussing the state of music in the digital age. So-called experts and futurists have far too loudly dominated this discussion for too long.

Q: Let’s cut to the chase: how do you as a musician cope with the apparent fact that not everybody seems to want to pay for digital music? Do you think recorded music is destined to be free, as some of the pundits insist?

A: It used to not matter so much at shows because people would still want to buy a physical copy of the CD. On my most recent tour to Sweden I noticed a drop in sales which was disconcerting. I can see that the fan or consumer is redistributing their funds—i.e., spending less on CDs and putting more towards a ticket price. My answer to this is to develop my live show more to make it a must-have experience…something that can’t be downloaded.

Q: What do you think of the idea that music is destined for the “cloud”?

A: What’s next? Is “the cloud” going to control what we listen to? No, I might be old fashioned here, but I like to have physical contact with my own collection. Not everything is about efficiency.

Q: How has your life as a musician been affected–or not–by the existence of music blogs? Do you miss old-style music criticism, or do you welcome the non-professional music fan into the mix?

A: The more the merrier. There’s such a thick forest of information out there that is so difficult to cut through. And every little bit of press hopefully helps reaching someone!

Q: One obvious thing the digital age has introduced is the ease of two-way communication between artist and fan. Does this feel like a benefit or a distraction, or a little of both?

A: I like it. In fact, I utilized this in the making of my new record Street Parade. One of the Kickstarter perks was to be able to listen in on the recording sessions via a webstream and later have a chat session. It was fun to get the fan input.

Q: There is clearly way more music available for people to listen to these days than there ever used to be. How do you as a musician cope with the reality of an over-saturated market, to put it both economically and bluntly?

A: For me, this allowed me to be heard. I am thinking of my YouTube video “Na Na Na” that has now been seen by close to 2 million people. This sparked an interest that gave me a good start. A lot of the work after that has been the direct contact with the fan—i.e., the live show. I really believe that this is where I truly make the connection with the listener.

Photo credit: Shervin Lainez

Free and legal MP3: Slowdim

Sturdy, potent power pop

“Money” – Slowdim

A winner from beginning to end, “Money” is shrewdly constructed but gloriously unfussy, its pure (power) pop heart hearkening back to decades of rock radio hits without any air of contrivance or over-retro-ism. Songs this well-built rarely sound so free.

It begins with a “two-level” intro—10 seconds of restrained warm-up, the guitars swirling and jangling but as if from maybe the next room; then, the real thing, with a full-bodied, sing-along lead guitar riff that first grabs attention and then gets out of the way so the song can start. Less obvious than the great guitar line here is the note with which the bass launches said guitar line (listen carefully at 0:11), a nifty music-theory maneuver that adds subliminal texture and alerts the ear, however unconsciously, that what follows is worth listening to. I like too how the two-part intro is a subtle mirror of the heart of the song, with its two-part chorus. Speaking of which, listen to how what you might call the pre-chorus (first heard at 0:45) is itself a great hook and yet feels incomplete without the arrival of the true chorus. Note that the song’s title derives from the pre-chorus—another subtle songwriting trick, simultaneously adding substance to the pre-chorus while creating, via the pre-chorus’s unresolved melodies, an emotional demand for the second part, which delivers a spirited release with its layered harmonies and gratifying, descending melody.

Not to be confused with the British shoegaze band Slowdive, Slowdim is a four-piece band from Boston that has been together for about a year, although various combinations of its members have known each other for a good deal longer. “Money” is the band’s first single. They are currently recording their debut album. MP3 via the band.

Free and legal MP3: The Spring Standards (evoking bygone folk w/ up-to-date flair)

A song about leaving, evoking bygone folk music but with a 21st-century attitude.

“Only Skin” – The Spring Standards

There’s something tender and unfinished about “Only Skin.” Fading in at the beginning, the musical setting (piano and percussion, and a bit of guitar later on) is a tentative one, the instruments sketching rather than fully painting the scene. The feeling is not minimalist—there is a full-fledged sense of musical warmth here—but the restraint feels introductory, as if we are waiting for something larger to happen.

It turns out that what is larger that happens is Heather Robb’s voice, a wise and honeyed instrument itself. The arrangement leaves her so exposed you can hear her breathing. She sings about leaving, and the lyrics evoke bygone folk music, both for the way the verses begin and end with the same lines (hey, M. Ward did this last week too) and for some of the lyrical conceits, notably the way the song’s narrator urges the lover she is leaving behind to “Remember me with yellow hair and freckles on my nose.” And then the song takes an abrupt and delicious turn into the 21st century: “Remember me in purple shoes and turquoise pantyhose.” The lover who is leaving is determined to the point of harshness; the titular phrase arrives in the guise of one of the greatest lyrical kiss-offs I’ve yet heard: “Your name is just a noise now/Your face is only skin.” (Ouch.) And yet it comes wrapped in that careful melody, and embellished by those aching, wordless harmonies. Does the narrator mean it, or is she trying simply to convince herself? One can’t be sure, but the bittersweet gentleness of the nearly nursery-rhyme-like music suggests heartbreak under the bravado.

The Spring Standards are three musicians who have been playing various instruments together since their teenage days growing up along the Pennsylvania/Delaware border. They are now located in New York City. “Only Skin” is a track from their double-EP release yellow//gold, which is coming out in May on Parachute Shooter Records.

Free and legal MP3: David Ramos (jagged, hip-hop-inflected allure)

It is not clear what Ramos is singing about specifically but the overall vibe is at once troubling and peppy, the sound of a man coming to grips with life’s vicissitudes, or trying to.

“Digital Memory” – David Ramos

With some very computer-like beeps and boops, “Digital Memory” lurches into a jagged, hip-hop-inflected verse, the syllables piling up at the end of each line, and each succeeding line adding more syllables to the pile-up. You rarely hear rapping and singing blended so effectively, as Ramos really does seem to be doing both at the same time. You also rarely hear this kind of rapid-fire outpouring of words so fully framed by the underlying music rather than merely grounded in the confluence of beat and rhyme. It’s cool in fact to hear how Ramos isn’t really rhyming that much here, which to me gives the rapping an unexpected allure. (A confession: my ear has never been attuned to the kinds of conspicuous rhyming hip-hop fans appear to treasure.)

The chorus—concise and mysterious—is sung, the rhythmic hiccup of the verse slightly smoothed out but still intact. It is not clear what Ramos is singing about specifically but the overall vibe is at once troubling and peppy, the sound of a man coming to grips with life’s vicissitudes, or trying to.

Ramos (first name pronounced the Spanish way: dah-VEED) is a drummer by trade; he was in fact named one of the top 10 progressive drummers by Modern Drummer magazine while still a student at Wesleyan University. He played for years in the loose-knit ensemble Anonymous Inc., along with his brother Ceschi. “Digital Memory” is from Ramos’s third solo album, Sento La Tua Mancanza (“I miss you”), which was written in the aftermath of the death of his grandmother, who had been a kind of parent to him (his father was an addict, and not there for him). Ramos had gone to Wesleyan largely because it was not too far from her, and upon graduating he started the label Fake Four right in New Haven, where she lived. With his grandmother’s health declining, Ramos moved in with her and did not leave the state for three years. She died in 2010.

Free and legal MP3: M. Ward (no-nonsense, keyboard-driven tale)

“Primitive Girl” doesn’t aim to change the world or blow your mind but it feels wise and it warms the heart, and there’s something to be said for that.

“Primitive Girl” – M. Ward

I’m not sure what makes M. Ward so M. Ward-y. I’m also not sure I’m a completely huge fan of M. Ward-iness; but the man without question has something going for him, and I find myself falling for some of his songs without completely knowing why. This is one of them.

So yeah we get those reverbed, slightly-processed, just-woke-up vocals. That’s an important part of the M. Ward sound. You can clearly picture the scruffy, pillow-crushed head of hair that goes along with the voice. We also get the brisk, no-nonsense musical setting that Ward likes to offer, in this case a percussive, immediately likable blend of keyboards and drums. Built upon the olden-days effect of beginning and ending each verse with the same two lines, “Primitive Girl” doesn’t aim to change the world or blow your mind but it feels wise and it warms the heart, and there’s something to be said for that. Note that the song wraps up within about two minutes, after which comes a wistful, Tom Waits-ish coda that, on the album, segues directly into the next track. As a standalone MP3, it ends abruptly, be forewarned.

“Primitive Girl” is a song from A Wasteland Companion, M. Ward’s seventh solo album, released this week on Merge Records. The album does feature She & Him compatriot Zooey Deschanel on a couple of tracks, but this one is all him, no she. MP3 via the good folks at 3hive.

Free and legal MP3 Joywave (well-crafted, retro-y synth pop)

“True Grit” is slick and stylized even as it likewise feels heartfelt and handmade.

“True Grit” – Joywave

A delightful splash of retro-y synth pop, “True Grit” is slick and stylized even as it likewise feels heartfelt and handmade. With its well-crafted blend of electronic sounds—pulse-like, percolating, plucky; wooshy and shimmering—the song floats in the airiest of spaces yet remains grounded and determined. First we get a fully-developed, Eurythmics-like instrumental melody; then comes Dan Armbruster, singing with New Romantic aplomb, cool and hot at the same time, telling us far less with his words than with his tone. The song appears to pivot on the melodramatic, non-sequitur-ish “Sometimes the English countryside remembers war”; yeah, I’m not sure what that’s about either but it glides by with marvelous ease.

The song hinges on that lyric largely because it’s one of the few lines that emerges from Armbruster’s mouth with purposeful clarity. For most of the song, he obfuscates with elegant panache, singing words that you can only almost understand. It’s an underrated pop song trick, not unlike pairing sad words with happy music: pairing a smooth-as-silk sound with not-quite-intelligible lyrics. The ear is captivated and, perhaps, happier this way than if it also has to process a storyline. Works for me, anyway.

Joywave is a quintet from Rochester that formed in 2010. “True Grit” is one of seven songs on the band’s debut EP, Koda Vista, a work indirectly inspired by the rise and fall of hometown behemoth Eastman Kodak. You an stream the album on Joywave’s Bandcamp page, which also offers a variety of corporate-themed purchase options, one of which includes credit towards the purchase of Eastman Kodak Company stock.

Free and legal MP3: Scott Matthew (minimal yet luxurious, off-center ballad)

“Sinking” – Scott Matthew

You won’t get too far in reading about Scott Matthew without Antony Hegarty, of Antony and the Johnsons, coming up (and I, oops, have just added to the pile). But here’s the funny thing about that kind of RIYL short-cutting: its inherent superficiality, typically connecting a singer to someone else he or she sounds like, can be drastically misleading. I, for instance, don’t much care to listen to Hegarty, despite his obvious depth and talent. I don’t connect with his music, for whatever reason. But Matthew—whose theatrical, husky tenor bears a passing resemblance to Hegarty’s singular voice—is here singing a song I like a lot. Let us note once and for all that RIYL is a defective recommendation engine.

Anyway, “Sinking”: a languid, off-center ballad, at once minimal and luxurious, backed by piano, layered vocals, and the delicate strumming of a ukulele I can only, and unexpectedly, describe as lovely. The song’s unusual sense of pace is rooted in a 3/4 time signature at once deliberate and unsteady, and amplified by the drawn-out melody line, which extends to nine rather than the typical eight measures. And I would not want the Antony comparisons to distract anyone from the vividness of Matthew’s own voice, both musically and lyrically. To the extent that one can follow them, the words he croons are striking. The song is a keeper.

Born in Australia, Matthew moved to Brooklyn in the late ’90s. He was in a short-lived band called Elva Snow in 2002 with Morrissey compatriot Spencer Cobrin, then wrote music for a few movie soundtracks, including John Cameron Mitchell’s Shortbus. A self-titled solo debut emerged in 2008. “Sinking” is from Mitchell’s third album, Gallantry’s Favorite Son, which was released in March on Riot Bear Records.