This one came in too late to post prior to year’s end, but it’s also too good to let slip by. Download, tuck it away, and be pleasantly surprised to find it when you go looking for under-played holiday songs next time Christmas rolls around.
A newly-minted instrumental with an old-school air, “Free Christmas” offers a stately, lower-register electric guitar melody over a lilting acoustic guitar setting. Without any words beyond Marr’s whispered introduction, and without either blatant lifts from well-known tunes or sonic cliches, the music, almost magically, feels like Christmas. You can just about hear the sleigh bells, even as there aren’t any in the mix. I think what does the Noël-ish trick here is how the melody culminates in that five-note, choir-tinged descent (first heard at 0:58). Coming down the scale like that evokes Christmas music in the gentlest way, even as the song otherwise seems to operate with its own vibe. While there’s nothing here to directly recall Vince Guaraldi’s famous “Charlie Brown Christmas” music, what “Free Christmas” has in common with Guaraldi’s marvelous compositions is a willingness to be its own aural world first and foremost. It’s less “I’m writing Christmas music” and more “I’m writing music and I’m inviting Christmas into it.”
In any case, I’d definitely invite this one into your 2012 Christmas mix. You’ve got plenty of advance notice. As for Marr, this free and legal MP3 appears to be a sign that his reunion with the Healers, a band he fronted in the early ’00s, will remain a going concern. He had reassembled the group, with personnel changes, this past fall, for two shows in the UK and one in NYC. (Smiths songs were played, it should be noted.) Here’s hoping for some more Marr this year, as he seems to have left the other bands he was part of and perhaps aims, at last, for a bit of front man glory.
Lovely and deliberate, “Tuck the Darkness In” turns cathartic before its five minutes are done. The key to the transformation is the song’s determined pace, which does not change from beginning to end. As minimal and serene as the arrangement feels at the outset, this is a toe-tapper from the get-go—the music truly seems to enter the body as soon as the drum and guitar begin their joint, muted cadence five seconds in. Close your eyes and bob your head and torso to the rhythm here. You’ll see.
And then we get this interruption, this tension and suspension that glides into the song at around the two-minute mark, which becomes a bridge (a suspension bridge?) rife with the sense of something about to happen but not yet happening. Each lyrical line here begins with the preposition “before” (“Before the hours took over,” et al), which reinforces a sense of incompleteness and mystery; we’re never given the countervailing thought directly (what? what happened before the hours took over?) but the weight and intent of the whole song gives it to us indirectly. The song is a striking and poetic meditation on mortality. Live and pay attention, now, is the message. It’s all we ever have.
The bridge seamlessly re-engages the heart of the song at around 2:50, the drumbeat now insistent, backing harmonies added. The sound expands, with electricity and ghostliness; the melody, anthemic all along, brings us home. This is thoughtful, powerful stuff.
Bowerbirds is a Raleigh-based duo that has had (and maybe will yet have) more members at other times. The band was previously featured on Fingertips in 2007. “Tuck the Darkness In” is the first song available from the forthcoming album The Clearing, which will be here in March on the Dead Oceans label. MP3 via the record company.
Brendan Harney and Scott Levesque, of the Boston-based band Wheat, answer five questions about the state of music in the digital age. It’s the first Fingertips Q&A of 2012.
Wheat should probably not even exist at this point. Founded in 1997, the Boston area band has been around long enough to have experienced all the ebbs and flows one expects to see in the career of idiosyncratic, independent bands—the roster changes, the unanticipated hit song, the squabble with the major record company—without, yet, the end result of the group just giving up and going away. If anything, Wheat’s brain trust of Brendan Harney and Scott Levesque seem readier than ever to be doing their difficult-to-describe thing, for whomever is left out there that wants to hear it. I can’t help feeling that the world is a better place as a result.
The band’s most recent full-length album is 2009’s White Ink, Black Ink. But this fall, Wheat announced the intention of releasing three double a-side singles in advance of a sixth album, which will come later in 2012. The first single included the song “House of Kiss,” which was featured here on Fingertips last month. The second single will be arriving this month. In the middle of this flurry of activity, Harney and Levesque were kind enough to stop by, virtually, to tackle the Q&A questions. Both contributed to the answers, as you’ll see.
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.
That's Scott Levesque (left) and Brendan Harney (right) in the foreground; Luke Hebert can be seen on the drums in the back; photo credit: Beth Freeman Doreian
Q:Let’s cut to the chase: how do you as musicians 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:(Brendan) Well, that’s the big issue facing artists these days – is kinda like, “if it’s digital and on the web, it’s free.” So, as producers of music (and the same goes for movies, books, etc.), we have to be super careful that we just don’t give the store away. The average consumer of music out there probably has no idea what goes into making a finished product in terms of songs. It not only takes a tremendous amount of time, but also money. So, the bottom line is: if it’s free the bottom will come out completely as far as quality goes. And, no, i don’t think it’s destined to be free. It’s intellectual property, and once it becomes generally understood by those who make music that there needs to be an avenue for compensation, artists will find ways to kinda keep there music out of “free land.” You’re already seeing it—look around and more and more artists post partial songs/videos instead of the whole thing. And physical product is evolving various forms of art and hand-made stuff, etc.
(Scott) I think people shouldn’t download anything that’s not for sale, period. Not like a buddy sending you an amazing mp3, but like you know, a big mass portal thing. It’s a totally new realm. It’s basic thievery and under-handedness. And not the cool robin hood type liberation of wealth from the evil giants in all cases. All an artist has is concept. Some of them are worth paying for. I mean if a guy makes a nice chair, shouldn’t we have to pay him if we like sitting in it over and over again? I buy digital music for some things, but i love objects more. I build shelves in order…I don’t believe I’ve ever flipped through a single pdf of liner notes. I love books! I love the cover, the binding…I love the soul of the object! I can almost feel all of it in my hands when I hold it. It gives home to the gravity of the music, a place to hang your adoration with some books and records. Viva la object!
Q:What do you think of the idea that music is destined for the “cloud”?
A:(Brendan) To me it sorta slowly is taking the beauty and mystery out of the experience. And I truly believe that eventually that will become clear to everyone who loves music. I know this: when I was growing up and first started to buy and collect music for myself, it was important for me to feel that I wasn’t just grabbing whatever blew my way—that I was instead carving out an identity with my music choices. Again, even now, you’re seeing a desire (from a small fraction, granted) for this kind of experience, even in this “everything free and now” cyber world. People will just simply make spaces to create and consume that are not part of the mainstream digital world. Music is rebellion and when this digital world truly becomes (if it’s not already) the “powers that be,” people of all ages will start to rebel against it.
(Scott) Can I get an amen…?
Q:How have your lives as musicians been affected—or not—by the existence of music blogs?
A:(Brendan) I like the music blogs, personally. I like the various and sundry voices. I don’t think it’s ever good when there are one or two sources of music criticism and everything is judged by that. I mean it’s crazy to think of one person’s opinion of a record sorta deciding for everyone whether it’s good or not. But, you never know, because even on the web there have become a few “voices” that have become arbiters of taste. It’s pretty zany!
(Scott) Yeah, I think it’s totally all kinda the same thing, meaning: good taste and refined desire will always get into the mix on a pretty high level. There are some super hip folks both turning people on to new junk, as well as providing a healthy and mutual agreeable platform for artist, writers, musicians, etc. to produce, promote, connect, etc. There’s always more junk, but that’s just basic math.
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:(Brendan) Totally a benefit. You can really present yourself and your work the way you intend without any filtering or morphing by outside influences. It does take some extra time, but it can be truly meaningful and cool to have a running dialog with fans.
(Scott) It’s cool being in touch with folks. I mean, I don’t invite folks in on my writing process. People vote w/ their feet anyway. I and most people I know that do stuff are too busy to let junk like that distract anyhow. It has broken down a few bogus walls in the process between bands and fans but that’s a good thing. Plus, there’s always an off button.
Q:There is clearly way more music available for people to listen to these days than there ever used to be. How do you cope with the reality of an over-saturated market, to put it both economically and bluntly?
A:(Brendan) Yeah, that’s tricky. There’s just soooooo much stuff out there right now. And, as with mostly everything—mostly everything is average at best. I honestly find it hard myself to wade through it. And, you know, that’s another downside to the “cheap and easy.” When it’s cheap and easy, the result usually is crappy. But, you know, that’s the way it is right now. What kinda helps to separate it all is live music—you still have to be able to bring people together physically to advance as a band. And that really, over time, cuts a lot of the waste right outta there. Cream still does rise to the top; that hasn’t changed at all. The bands that people are excited about today are there for a reason—they’re better than most.
(Scott) And it’s not just other music. People, now more than ever, have way many more options as to where and what to do with their time and money. Hip blogs are one way to escape the chaff, but I agree with Bren: good songs, ideas, concepts, etc. will always exist and re-exist. But maybe with just a slightly smaller share of the market.
Fingertips’ top 10 favorite free and legal MP3s of 2011.
Here in week 52, the last Fingertips post of the year takes you through my top 10 favorite free and legal MP3s of 2011. If you missed favorites 11 through 20, you can see them in last week’s post.
To be considered for the list, songs had first of all to have been featured on Fingertips during the year 2011, and second of all must still be available as free and legal MP3s. You can download any or all of them right here the usual way, or listen via the play button if you happen to be reading this directly on the Fingertips site.
As with the first part, I’m going here in super-suspenseful reverse order. Without further ado….
Part one of the annual two-part presentation of the year-end Fingertips Favorites list.
Either a great way to catch up with some good songs you might have missed, or an excellent argument starter, the annual Fingertips list of favorite free and legal MP3s of the year is now online. If you’re visiting the site, you can access the entire list through one of the main “tabs.” For those accessing the site via RSS feed or email, I will be spending these last two weeks of the year presenting the favorites in two separate lists of 10.
To be considered for the list, songs had first of all to have been featured on Fingertips during the year 2011, and second of all must still be available as free and legal MP3s. You can download any or all of them right here the usual way, or listen via the play button if you happen to be reading this directly on the Fingertips site. If my snappy one-sentence song summaries leave you wanting more, you can read the original reviews by clicking on the date next to each band name, which is the date of the original Fingertips post.
I’ll start, as tradition has it, with the list presenting my numbers 11 through 20 favorites, but in reverse (for suspense, you see). Stand on your head if you prefer them in the proper order. Next week I’ll be back with the top 10.
Okay, that’s the second ten. If you like surprises, tune in next week for the top 10; if you need it all right now, you can go here, although be warned: you won’t get the incisive one-sentence summaries over on that page. I have to leave something for next week.
Born as a trio, featuring identical-twin sisters Alejandra and Claudia Dehaza, the Brooklyn-based School of Seven Bells found duo-hood forced upon then when Claudia announced in October of last year that she was leaving. While Alejandra was the songwriter of the two—she and guitarist Benjamin Curtis compose the band’s music—there was concern (by me, anyway) that the twosome version of SVIIB would suffer in comparison. The twin-sister harmonies were central to the band’s presentation; Curtis, in fact, told NPR in 2008 that the sisters’ precise, heavenly vocal synthesis was “the most important part of School of Seven Bells,” adding: “Everything else is accompaniment, you know, in my opinion.”
But life goes on: as it turns out, the instantly seductive tone of the Dehaza voice, at once sweet and searing, remains intact, and Alejandra does a splendid job now harmonizing with herself. How this will work in performance remains a question, but the duo version of the band, recorded, sounds pretty much the same as the trio—which is a fine thing for a band with such a distinctive sound to begin with. While the label-fixated blogosphere tosses SVIIB quickly into the dream pop or shoegaze box, this is a band that from the start has been blessed with a truly individual sound: a whirly, driven amalgam that floats airy atmospherics over a guitar-heavy core, while featuring a harmonic language that does not always feel Western and lyrics that veer towards a mystical kind of incomprehensibility.
“The Night” has an itchy vibe; launching from a sparse, uncentered interplay between two opposing guitar sounds, the song takes off at a running clip and yet also fosters an ineffable tension. Listen carefully and you’ll see how few chords are employed here. If I’m not mistaken, we may not have a chord change until 1:20. Note the lyrical clue at 0:50, when, still on the opening chord, Dehaza sings, “You’ve frozen my thoughts/You’ve frozen me out/I’m in the same place you left me baby.” We go from there into the chorus and still the music, almost claustrophobically, refuses to offer a chord progression for yet another 20 seconds. We have been set a purposeful, musical trap, and the song ultimately delivers, but for reasons which defy explicit description. Chalk it up to the same alchemy that allows SVIIB to craft its unique sound from the same ingredients theoretically available to everyone else.
“The Night” is the first track the duo has made available from their upcoming album, Ghostory, which is due in late in February as a joint release by Vagrant Records and Ghostly International. MP3 via Pitchfork. School of Seven Bells were featured previously on Fingertips in 2008.
A sharp little song presented in a thin, lo-fi setting, “I Couldn’t Say It To Your Face” has a languorous feel that disguises its solid musical chops. Let’s start with the lack of an introduction. Now then, I’ve got nothing against introductions, at all, but songs that manage without them are often pretty cool; it’s a ballsy move as a songwriter to just say “Here it is, folks,” without any throat-clearing to smooth the way.
And Baylin here doesn’t just start right in, she starts right in with the chorus—another unusual, forthright move. And funny, too, if you relate it to the song’s context: the central, repeated lyrical line is: “I couldn’t say it to your face/But I won’t be around any more.” She can’t talk to the person she’s talking to, but she can jump right in and tell us. The chorus itself, furthermore, has an unusual feel and structure. The main lyric is repeated twice at the beginning and once more at the end, sandwiching a separate line that initially feels like it’s going to be the verse but somehow gets wrapped into the chorus. Time signatures toggle back and forth between 4/4 and 6/4 in the process of this sleight of hand, and continue to do so when we glide into and through the verse. It becomes difficult to locate the beat even as the basic, languid movement feels sustained and unwavering, bolstered by the friendly depth of Baylin’s scuffed alto. We get to the end quickly; the song has no fat, and the home recording keeps the sound simple, flattened, and oddly satisfying.
“I Couldn’t Say It To Your Face” is one of five songs on Baylin’s new Pleasure Center EP, available for free via SoundCloud. She made it in her Nashville living room on a four-track recorder with singer/songwriter/multi-instrumentalist/producer Richard Swift. A full-length album, Little Spark, is coming in January. Thanks to Largehearted Boy for the lead. Baylin was here once before, in 2008. Trivia buffs note that since then, Baylin was married to Kings of Leon drummer Nathan Followill.
Another short song for you this week. Not many chords this time either. Easy to fit in around your pre-holiday hubbub: you can listen, and get on with it. And hey, you get a lot of sound for the time invested here. I mean, check out the fuzzed-up bash of background noise that Earthquake Party churns up, and that heavy, decisive “mi-re-do” downward riff that anchors the song. Everything immediately feels buzzy and overheated, like someone’s pinned the recording levels too high.
Then front man Justin Lally comes along and just kind of speak-sings against the noise, neither shouting to be heard nor being drowned out by the sludge; it’s a balance I find counter-intuitive and appealing. (Note that this is a phenomenon singularly available to recorded music, not live music.) Even more appealing: when keyboardist Mallory Hestand adds harmony in the chorus, and their two voices seem to ricochet away from each other B-52s-ishly. The melody they somehow describe between them is richer and deeper than the one either of them sings. And bonus points for the pithy lyrics they sing, full of both mystery and implication: “All I want’s a pretty little hand/That’s full of pills and candy.” I like how, in the end, this song feels like pop, despite all the fuss and noise. It’s amazing what a good chorus can do for you.
Earthquake Party is a trio founded last year in Boston. “Pretty Little Hand” is one of three songs on its debut EP, vs. Pizza, that the band released on a so-called cassingle (yup, a cassette tape) last month. And I do mean self-released: they bought 200 blank cassettes for $100 via mail order, put the music on them, and then made the inserts and labels, all by themselves. You can listen to all three songs and buy the cassette and/or downloads at the band’s Bandcamp page. The cassette will come with the download codes, so you don’t really need to have a cassette player, although all the better if you do. MP3 via the band. (And don’t worry about the generic-looking URL; this is a legitimately free and legal download.)
This isn’t nostalgia, it’s sheer presence: the rumbling drumbeat, the unadulterated guitar lines, and, at the center, mighty Erica Wennerstrom, who can make your heart skip a beat if you listen too closely
Flaunting a compact, muscular sound, the Cincinnati-born Bastards, now residing in Austin, have a timeless air about them. This is rock’n’roll as if the internet not only never happened but wasn’t even supposed to. And yet I like how unnostalgic they still manage to sound, via sheer presence: the rumbling drumbeat, the unadulterated guitar lines, and, at the center, mighty Erica Wennerstrom, who can make your heart skip a beat if you listen too closely. Whatever she’s doing, more singers should do it. Or: would if they could.
As befitting the title, “Parted Ways” is really two songs that kind of move through each other and then separate. The first half is launched by the easy charm of the verse, with its ambling, descending melody and its seamless connection to the upward-oriented chorus. Punctuated by some Stones-worthy rhythm guitar playing, that fluent shift to the chorus (first heard at 0:31) really settles the ear; when it comes up again at 1:32, it seems newly powerful and true. As it turns out, there appear to be dualing choruses—the previously mentioned one that segues out of the verse, and then a succeeding one, beginning with the words “Out in space, I’m a long way from home” (first heard at 0:46), with a slower melody and a suspended sense of rhythm. The second chorus eventually takes the song over and moves it into a more expansive, jam-like (but not jam-band-like) space. An instrumental section modulates into an augmented version of chorus number two and then, at 3:32, we get a new vocal section with a loose, chuggy feeling that sounds like Wennerstrom doing a vocal solo the way she, as a guitarist, takes a guitar solo. Which she then in fact does as well. She is no slouch in that regard either.
Heartless Bastards were formed in Cincinnati in 2003. For most of its performing life the band has been a trio. A second guitarist (Wennerstrom has been the lead) was recently added; the band’s forthcoming album, The Arrow, will be its first as a quartet. It was produced by Spoon’s Jim Eno and is due out in February on Partisan Records. MP3 via Rolling Stone. This is the Bastards’ third appearance on Fingertips, with previous reviews in 2005 and 2006.
Everything about this song seeks first to evoke a blurrily-recalled pop era—it’s kind of ’60s, kind of ’70s, without pinning itself down—and second, well, to razz it ever so humanely.
Spacious and glistening, “St. Croix” appears as a burst of lemony sunshine on what may be a rather cold and/or dreary day where you are, depending on your hemisphere and latitude. Not to mention attitude. In any case, “St. Croix,” mood-wise, is all swift, swaying sweetness, nailed together with one memorable, signature guitar riff. To the extent that the central lyrics might stand out as rather gooey—“You bring the ocean/I bring the motion/Together we make a love potion”; yes, really!—I can assure you they come to us purposefully, and playfully.
Because as it turns out, everything about this song seeks first to evoke a blurrily-recalled pop era—it’s kind of ’60s, kind of ’70s, without pinning itself down—and second, well, to razz it, ever so humanely. It’s all very post-postmodern; the approach is no longer ironic, but embracing: they’re laughing with the music, not at it. And gently! The band sprinkles the humor around the edges, where it barely intrudes, so as not to disturb those who want or need to hear “St. Croix” as a straightforward romp in the sun. But from the opening bongos to the very suspicious single-syllable “oh!” that peppers each verse but once (in addition to one “cell phone!”) to the aforementioned signature riff, which is both super-delightful and rather silly (running up and down an octave as if bounding a flight of rubbery, jangly steps) to the “uh-oh, the batteries are dying” ending, “St. Croix” cruises along with a smile both of joy and comedy. A splendid time is guaranteed for all.
Family of the Year is a quartet based in Los Angeles. “St. Croix” is the title track to the band’s second EP. A second full-length album, Diversity, is scheduled for early 2012. Both releases are via tinyOGRE Entertainment. The MP3 comes to us from Magnet Magazine.
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