Favorite Free & Legal MP3s of 2010 (pt. 2)

For the last Fingertips post of the year (cue drum roll), here are my top 10 favorite free and legal MP3s of 2010.

For the last Fingertips post of the year (cue drum roll), here are my top 10 favorite free and legal MP3s of 2010. This follows up last week’s post, which contained my “second” top 10 (numbers 11 through 20).

All songs are still available as free and legal MP3s, so you can download them the usual way, or listen via the play button if you happen to be reading this directly on the Fingertips site. 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.

As with last week, I will run them down in reverse order. If you want them from 1 to 10, stand on your head:


10. “The Mermaid Parade” – Phosphorescent  (May 12)
Laid-back, expansive, affecting tale of love gone awry.

9. “Down By The Water” – The Drums  (August 3)
’50s melody set to a hymn-like march. Accrues gravity and pathos as it develops.

8. “Zebra” – Beach House  (May 12)
A lovely, elusive dream of a song.

7. “Let The Record Go” – The Mynabirds  (May 4)
Short fiery piece of retro pop (see also song #1).

6. “Zorbing” – Stornoway  (July 28)
Bursting with melody and innocence.

5. “If You Wanna” – The Vaccines  (August 24)
Catchy lo-fi greatness; Ramones meet Joy Division.

4. “I Walked” – Sufjan Stevens  (September 15)
As poignant as an electronics-driven song is likely to get. Beautiful and majestic and heartbroken.

3. “My Heart is a Drummer” – Allo Darlin’  (October 7)
Bright smart pop with movement and charm.

2. “Hotel Lights” – Amy Cook  (January 6)
Exquisite singer/songwriter fare, and a quiet argument against most other singer/songwriter fare.

1. “Numbers Don’t Lie” – The Mynabirds   (January 26)
Neo-retro-gospel-pop at its finest, from one of 2010’s greatest unsung albums (see also song #7).


Favorite Free & Legal MP3s of 2010 (pt. 1)

With MP3 activity winding down with the end of the year, it’s time for the annual year-end “Fingertips Favorites” list, in which I, as tradition has it, bitch and moan about how hard it is to narrow down a year’s worth of really good songs into a top 10 list and as a result present a top 20 list.

With MP3 activity winding down with the end of the year, it’s time for the annual year-end “Fingertips Favorites” list, in which I, as tradition has it, bitch and moan about how hard it is to narrow down a year’s worth of really good songs into a top 10 list and as a result present a top 20 list.

Especially attentive Fingertips followers will know that the entire list has already been placed on the site, but for the sake of those whose regular access to Fingertips is either via email or RSS feed, I’ll spend these last two weeks of the year presenting the list—numbers 11 through 20 this week, and the top 10 next week.

All songs are still available as free and legal MP3s, so you can download them 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.

And now, in super-suspenseful reverse mode, here are Fingertips’ favorite free and legal downloads from 2010, part one:


20. “The Best Things in Life” – The Silver Seas  (April 28)
Effortlessly enjoyable pop with a faux ’70s-soul sheen.

19. “Buy Me Presents” – Darren Hanlon  (October 13)
Lovable, organic, speak-singing fun from an underappreciated Australian.

18. “Alouette!” – Tallest Trees  (July 21)
Gleeful, skewed, and clattery; more good-humored than electronics-based songs usually manage to be.

17. “Icarus” – White Hinterland  (January 13)
Propulsive and mysterious-sounding electro-pop with both beat and melody.

16. “Rio” – Hey Marseilles  (May 4)
A sweetly rollicking neo sea shanty.

15. “Orange Yellow” – The Spires  (June 30)
Smartly-written garage rock with a Velvet-y aura.

14. “The Kiss” – Pallers  (May 18)
Graceful electronic dance-ballad that unfolds with a New Order-like majesty, minus the melodrama.

13. “Quarry Hymns” – Land Of Talk  (August 24)
Gorgeous and expansive rock, with a Fleetwood Mac influence and a timeless feel.

12. “A Walk Around the Lake” – Lost in the Trees  (July 28)
A poignant, introspective, and dramatic three minutes.

11. “Doubles” – Amy Bezunartea  (September 29)
A swaying, mournful melody, beautifully sung, with short-story-like lyrics.



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 don’t get the snappy one-sentence summaries over there. I have to leave something for next week.

Free and legal MP3: Sarah Lee Guthrie & Johnny Irion (old-fashioned feel, rock-solid songwriting)

A rollicking, low-key stomper with an old-fashioned feel and rock-solid songwriting chops.

Guthrie/Irion

“Speed of Light” – Sarah Lee Guthrie & Johnny Irion

A rollicking, low-key stomper with an old-fashioned feel, a gut-kicking beat, and rock-solid songwriting chops. The husband-wife duo of Guthrie and Irion don’t sound like they’re breaking a sweat here as they let the song do the work for them, with its three strong sections (verse, pre-chorus, chorus), its echoes of some vague lost soul classic, and an incisive lyrical payoff—almost a punchline, except it’s insightful rather than funny—at the end of the chorus that pivots the whole song into place. And I won’t give it away because you should hear it in context. And don’t miss the lyric’s musical punctuation, that vintage instrumental accent first heard at 0:54. An essential and exquisite touch.

“Speed of Light” is a song from the pair’s second full-length Bright Examples, due out in February on Ninth Street Opus. And yes, Sarah Lee is a genuine Guthrie: daughter of Arlo, granddaughter of Woody. Although she sang at age 12 on one of her father’s albums, she hadn’t necessarily planned on a musical career but eventually found collaboration with her husband too fruitful to resist.

MP3 via Ninth Street Opus. Thanks to Largehearted Boy for the lead.

Free and legal MP3: Strawberry Whiplash (reverby, jangly holiday sweetness)

“Santa Needs a Holiday” – Strawberry Whiplash

Candy-coated holiday fare from the Glaswegian (that is to say, from Glasgow; but one must not miss the opportunity to use the word “Glaswegian”) duo Strawberry Lemonade, itself a syrupy-sweet side-project from Bubblegum Lemonade front man Laz McLuskey. (Call it twee if you must, but only if you must.)

Long-time Fingertips followers may remember that I don’t go crazy with the Christmas tunes in December–not because I have anything against Christmas tunes (not at all!; I love them only as much as a Christmas-music-deprived nice Jewish boy can) but because, truthfully, and alas, not much of what the genre offers year to year, new-musically-speaking, is very good. Trust me when I say I’m performing a public service by keeping most of what I hear out of your browser/inbox/hard drive/smart phone/whatever-the-hell-you-listen-to-music-in-or-on.

But this one is lovely in a jangly, lo-fi kind of way, full of melodic nostalgia and 21st-century indie-pop blurriness. Vocalist Sandra sings with a lightness befitting someone who operates resolutely without a last name, but listen closely and you’ll also hear a breathy roundness to her tone that brings (sigh) the late great Kirsty MacColl to mind. Perhaps best of all, the song traffics in its Christmasiness with graceful restraint. The one musical element that flavors the song seasonally is the descending guitar riff we hear at the end of the chorus, which smartly echoes the familiar descending bell motif delivered by any number of holiday standards.

“Santa Needs a Holiday” is found on the latest incarnation of annual holiday goodness put out by Santa Barbara-based Matinée Recordings. This year’s offering is an EP called Matinée Holiday Soiree, which also includes a song from Champagne Riot, a band featured here in 2008. MP3 via Matinée.

Free and legal MP3: The Heligoats (chunky & moody but w/ spunk)

A chunky, cheerfully moody antidote to anything (everything) you might be hearing out there in the “popular” realm during this newly-christened “golden age” of pop (hey, don’t look at me, it’s Billboard’s idea).

Live Free and Let Loose

“A Word From Our Sponsor” – the Heligoats

A chunky, cheerfully moody antidote to anything (everything) you might be hearing out there in the “popular” realm during this newly-christened “golden age” of pop (hey, don’t look at me, it’s Billboard‘s idea). “A Word From Our Sponsor” is rhythmic (but you can’t dance to it), the vocals are filtered (but not Auto-Tuned), and if there’s a synthesizer to be heard, it’s masquerading as a guitar (but I don’t think there’s a synthesizer to be heard). And listen to those guitars, will ya? They’re heavy and grumbly and played by actual human fingers. This is a song that catches the ear through the vague alchemy of craft and spirit, of vocal presence and lyrical spunk. You won’t hear it on the radio.

The Heligoats are a quartet from Bellingham, Washington fronted by Chris Otepka, last seen around these parts as lead singer for the Chicago-based Troubled Hubble, featuring on Fingertips back in 2005, not too long before they broke up. I hope it wasn’t something I said. The Heligoats actually co-existed with Troubled Hubble for most of that band’s existence, but did not get around to a recording debut until 2008.

“A Word From Our Sponsor” is from the 10-inch split EP Live Free and Let Loose, coming next month from Greyday Records, based in Portland, Ore., featuring four songs from the Heligoats (the Let Loose side) and six songs from singer/songwriter Sam Humans (the Live Free side).

December Q&A: Ross Flournoy (Apex Manor)

For December the Fingertips Q&A returns to pick the brains of Ross Flournoy, front man for Apex Manor.

For December the Fingertips Q&A returns to pick the brains of Ross Flournoy, front man for Apex Manor. If you’ve been keeping close tabs on Fingertips you may remember that Apex Manor is a newly-formed L.A.-area band that has risen in the ashes of the late, great Broken West. You may also have noticed that the Q&A is a bit late this month, and that is only because Flournoy has been seriously working on his answers. I mean, seriously.

Apex Manor’s debut album, The Year of Magical Drinking, comes out next month on mighty Merge Records.


Ross Flournoy



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: For someone at my level in terms of sales—which is to say, someone who doesn’t sell a ton of records—it’s really hard for me to tell what, if any, effect illegal downloading has on my “numbers.”

When I was in the Broken West, I was of the mind that illegal downloading wasn’t so bad—if anything, I thought it might be beneficial in the sense that if someone got our record for free and liked it, then perhaps that person would be inclined to come to a show or buy a t-shirt. Or maybe—just maybe—if they liked it enough they would decide to buy a CD. If they downloaded it for free and DIDN’T like it…well then, they weren’t going to buy it anyway. So in that sense, illegal downloading can almost be viewed as a kind of promotional tool. I can’t say my view has really changed.

I will say that as a music fan, I have downloaded music illegally. However, it’s almost always from bands that I love, and I’ve downloaded those records in advance of their release dates because I just couldn’t wait to hear them. Three specific cases come to mind: LCD Soundsystem’s This Is Happening, Spoon’s Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga and Wilco’s Wilco (The Album). In all three instances, though, I made it a point to purchase a physical copy of the record once it was available. Even if I hadn’t loved all three of those records after listening to them illegally (which I did), I still would have purchased each record to support the band. So in that sense I was kind of “voting” with my dollars—I wanted to help out, albeit in a very small, artists that meant something to me.

I think that’s common for a lot of so-called “indie” bands and their fans— that notion of supporting what you love. Even for bands that are selling hundreds of thousand of records—The National, New Pornographers, Spoon, etc.—I’d hazard a guess that illegal downloading doesn’t really hurt them that much. And that’s because the people that are into those bands and buying those records because they feel a real connection with the artist.

I think illegal downloading really hurts the majors, and artists that are accustomed to or expect to sell millions upon millions of records. Unless you’re Lil Wayne or Taylor Swift or Susan Boyle, that shit just doesn’t happen anymore. And it most likely won’t ever happen again. And the majors and Lenny Kravitz and Korn and whomever else need to wrap their fucking minds around that.

As far as how the industry is dealing with this, I think Merge has the right idea in streaming records for free prior to their release so fans can check them out and see if it’s something they dig, something they could live with, something they’d want to buy. I remember very well at the age of 14 going into some chain record store in Memphis and finding, for the first time, they’d let you take CDs to this little listening area, they’d unwrap them, and put them in a CD player so you could sit down and listen on headphones. I just thought that was the coolest thing ever—I’d never seen it before. That way you didn’t just have to buy a record and hope you liked it—you had a chance to experience it first. Obviously that idea has been writ large with iTunes, illegal downloading, etc.

To be honest, I don’t lose a lot of sleep about illegal downloading—or even record sales, for that matter. I don’t mean that to sound like some bullshit, artsy fartsy, “I’m just in it to make art and nothing else matters” kind of statement. Of course I’d LOVE to sell a tenth of what Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga sold. But the truth of the matter is, up to this point I haven’t made my money from record sales—I’ve made it from licensing. My goal in life is to be able to make a living writing songs and recording them. As long as I’m able to achieve that goal and hopefully turn a profit for Merge (and they WOULD NEVER ask or demand that of me, just to be clear—but I love them), I don’t care how I do it.


Q: Related question: there’s a lot of talk these days that says that music in the near future will exist in the so-called “cloud”—that is, on large computer networks—and that music fans, even if paying, will not need to “own” the music they like any longer. How do you feel about this—do you see anything really good or really bad in the idea?

A: Is this a good thing or a bad thing? That’s like asking a guy who builds carriages how he feels about the Model T. I don’t really think it’s that cool, but there isn’t a goddamn thing I or anyone else can do about it. It’s just the evolution of technology, and so far as I can tell it can’t be stopped.

I used to like holding a physical artifact in my hand. For my generation, that was a CD. Ten years ago, I remember thinking that there was no way in hell the CD would disappear during my lifetime—that maybe in the future people would expect music to be intangible in the sense of its being experienced through invisible means. But that that was a LONG way off.

Clearly I was wrong about that, and my own habits bear this out. The last time I bought a CD was six months ago. I’ve bought a ton of records since then, but all of them through eMusic or iTunes. That’s primarily because I’m impatient. If I hear something and love it, I want it now. And thanks to the internet, that can happen. I’m a huge liner note freak, so I miss that a lot. But ultimately, it’s more important to me to be able to hear something I love immediately as opposed to waiting ’til the next day and heading out to the record store.

At the end of the day, I think music itself is far more important than whatever particular means through which it is experienced. So, although the “cloud” maybe isn’t as cool as having an LP or a CD, as long as people are listening, we’re gonna be okay.




Q: How has your life as a musician been affected—or not—by the existence of music blogs?

A:I think blogs did a LOT in terms of gaining exposure for The Broken West, especially around the release of first record in early 2007. Even before then, bloggers were the first people to sort of champion the band and get our name out there. There were a couple of people—Justin at Aquarium Drunkard and Alan at Sixeyes—who wrote very nice things about us prior our being signed to Merge. So I’d say that music blogs have had nothing but a positive effect on my life/career as a musician.




Q: What are your thoughts about the album as a musical entity—does it still strike you as a legitimate means of expression? If listeners are cherry-picking and shuffling rather than listening all the way through, how does that affect you as a musician?

A: I have mixed feelings on this subject.

On the one hand—as a music fan—I wish I could look you in the eye and tell you that I’m heartbroken about the “death of the album.” But I’m not sure I am. Let’s be honest—the vast majority of good records these days have, at best, three or four great songs and the rest is middling to total shit. Also, I am and pretty much always have been a “song” kind of a guy. I absolutely love the Doobie Brothers’ “What A Fool Believes,” but I couldn’t tell you what record it’s on if you put a gun to my head.

Having said that, there are a bunch of records that mean the world to me—records that I love all the way through, and that I love for the way in which they’re sequenced: Exile On Main Street, London Calling, Wildflowers, The Soft Bulletin, Good Morning Spider, Sound Of Silver, Midnite Vultures, My Aim Is True, Teatro—these are records I listened to from start to finish a million times. And it kind of kills me to hear a song from one of these records out of context—like on a greatest hits or something. I remember when I heard the Stones’ Forty Licks, it really pissed me off that after “Tumbling Dice” I had to hear “Undercover Of The Night” instead of “Sweet Virginia.”

As a songwriter and a guy who makes records, I definitely spend a LOT of time thinking about sequencing. For my new record, I was actively sequencing for a good six months. Writing down sequences, crossing them out, making iTunes playlists, etc. So from that point of view the album as a musical entity is important. However, always in the back of my mind was this reality you’re talking about—that ultimately maybe all of my fretting about sequencing was for naught, since people were just going to listen to the songs they liked.

It’s worth remembering that the “album” is a relatively new conceit. The record business started as a singles game, and it wasn’t until the mid-’60s that the idea of the “album” really took hold. So it’s kind of funny that we’re returning to where we started—people seem to be a lot more interested in experiencing music as singles as opposed to albums.

As far how it affects me as a songwriter and a musician, it’s another one of those things that’s pretty much out of my hands, so I can’t really fret too much about it. Selfishly, I’d love it if I sold more complete records than single downloads, but that’s probably not the way it will play out.



Q: Because basically anyone can record and distribute music now, there is way 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: It’s kind of lame. It seems like instead of being able to let your music do the talking for you, you’ve got to put on a gorilla suit and film yourself fucking a goat and post it to YouTube to get attention. Look at those guys in Ok Go—that seems like a major bummer to me. No one really knows anything about their songs; they’re just those guys on a treadmill. I imagine they started out as people who loved music and wanted others to hear it, and now they’re basically just video directors. That kind of sucks.

However—and I hate to sound like a fatalist yet again—there’s nothing I can do about it. So I try not to fret. As I turn into more of an old man with each passing sundown, I’m trying hard to stop letting shit bother me that I have no control over.

And the other side of this coin is that we’re seeing a bunch of really cool bands and songwriters bubble up who might not have otherwise, say, 10 or 15 or 20 years ago, when recording and distribution were still prohibitively expensive. So that’s a good thing.

Free and legal MP3: Asobi Seksu (lovely, satisfying noise pop)

Try as he might to scrape down the walls with a siren-y electric roar, guitarist James Hanna always leaves room for singer Yuki Chikudate to settle the ear with a bit of sweetness.

Asobi Seksu

“Trails” – Asobi Seksu

Try as he might to scrape down the walls with a siren-y electric roar, guitarist James Hanna always leaves room for singer Yuki Chikudate to settle the ear with a bit of sweetness. “Trails” is a particularly intriguing version of this NYC duo’s distinctive blending of melody and noise, as Hanna launches his attack underneath a mid-tempo ballad; he so distracted me, in fact, with his initial onslaught (say, 0:07 and what follows)—including some ear-bending dissonance (e.g. 0:30)—that the cool pop assurance of the chorus caught me by delighted surprise.

And then: check out how the guitar ferocity lets up around 2:30—we get a quieter lead line, more jangly than jarring, and a softer but now more audible snare beat. When the noise starts up again, it’s muted, and grander, almost symphonic, with choruses of echoey reverb which may or may not be voices framing the soundscape. Note too how Chikudate, who can do the breathy soprano thing with the best of them, likewise shows us a full-bodied belt in this closing section that is vivid and savory. All in all a thoroughly satisfying four minutes.

“Trails” is from the band’s forthcoming album, Fluorescence, scheduled for a February release on Polyvinyl Records. MP3 via Spinner. It’s the band’s fourth album, and second as a duo (they began life as a quartet). No strangers around these parts, Asobi Seksu was featured on Fingertips both in 2004 (for the sublime “I’m Happy But You Don’t Like Me,” no longer free and legal but always great) and 2006 (“Thursday,” still available).

Free and legal MP3: Destroyer (unexpectedly smooth and saxy)

“Chinatown” sashays unexpectedly across your speakers with a jazzy spring in its step, complete with ’60s-pop female harmonies and not just a sax solo but a trumpet solo too.

Kaputt

“Chinatown” – Destroyer

“Chinatown” sashays unexpectedly across your speakers with a jazzy spring in its step, complete with ’60s-pop female harmonies and not just a sax solo but a trumpet solo too. This is an altogether smoother and more digestible environment than we have previously found Dan Bejar wandering around in; but if he has outwardly de-quirk-ified himself here, there’s something charming in the effort, and knowing, too. Because maybe the quirkiest thing of all in this freaked-out shoutfest of a world is to mellow out a bit.

Besides, once you get used to the chill groove, listen to Bejar and you’ll see he still sounds semi-crazy and mysterious, he’s just not flaunting it the way previous Destroyer songs might have. Less can be more—steering clear of his more obvious vocal kinks still allows him to show off his sweet, torn-sweater voice; his phrasing remains satisfyingly idiosyncratic and the lyrics as cryptic as ever. Unless it’s actually just about the movie Chinatown (“Forget it, Jake; it’s Chinatown”), in which case it’s still a little cryptic because he just can’t help himself. Oh and meanwhile, check out the way he manages to blend electronics and horns here. Except for those horns, just about everything else sounds non-organic. It’s spookily effective.

Bejar, from Vancouver, has been recording as Destroyer since back in 1996; he is also a founding member of the New Pornographers, and in 2006 became part of a second indie side-project/”super-group,” Swan Lake. “Chinatown” will be found on the album Kaputt, due out on Merge Records next month. MP3 via Merge. Thanks to Largehearted Boy for the head’s up.

Free and legal MP3: The Robots (gripping, driving 21st-century rock)

“I Didn’t Know What I Was Saying,” from the Prince Edward Island quartet the Robots, performs the unusual 21st-century trick of sounding influenced by Radiohead without sounding slavishly hypnotized. I don’t think we’ve heard enough of this sort of thing, actually—bands recognizing Radiohead’s seminal power while spinning the vibe into something very much their own.

Hey Buddy Dummy

“I Didn’t Know What I Was Saying” – the Robots

With the year-end easing off of new releases comes the intermittent Fingertips tradition of revisiting my folder of songs that were seriously considered for review earlier in the year, to see what I might have unaccountably overlooked—heard at the time but didn’t really hear. There are always one or two goodies in there that are well worth (re)discovery.

For instance: “I Didn’t Know What I Was Saying,” from the Prince Edward Island quartet the Robots, which performs the unusual 21st-century trick of sounding influenced by Radiohead without sounding slavishly hypnotized. I don’t think we’ve heard enough of this sort of thing, actually—bands recognizing Radiohead’s seminal power while spinning the vibe into something different and worthy. Bands did this with the Beatles all the time (and still do). Not everyone gets to invent the wheel; we need folks who can work on the chassis and the engine as well. Here, the Robots take Kid A-ish intensity but reapply guitars: searing and itchy lead lines, dark and jumpy rhythm lines, rumbly background washes. Actual keyboards—not just synthesizers—enter the fray as well. The song’s disciplined vehemence is epitomized by its very structure, which places the semi-undiscernible verses all together in the first two-thirds of the song, followed by a chorus section of marvelous power; there, front man Peter Rankin lets a bit of his inner Thom Yorke out of the bag, while the churning background swells with an almost orchestral grandeur. As for that last 40 seconds, with its foghorn guitar and thrummy white noise, not sure if it’s necessary but it’s actually pretty interesting.

The Robots come from Charlottetown and released their debut full-length, Hey Buddy, Dummy, back in April on Halifax-based Night Danger Records.

Free and legal MP3: British Sea Power (crooning while the world burns)

“Living Is So Easy” is a splendid example of the band’s softer aspect—a confident glider, its muted electro effects and partially mechanized percussion quickly fading into ornamentation thanks to the seductive velvet of the melody, as delivered by Bowiesque lead singer Yan Scott Wilkinson (no longer just Yan, as previously).

Living Is So Easy

“Living Is So Easy” – British Sea Power

For a melodramatic, high-concept, quasi-camp, neo-post-punk band, British Sea Power has managed to develop its tamer, subtler side over the years without however abandoning its crunchier, more angular output. It’s as if Roxy Music recorded “More Than This” on the same album as “Virginia Plain.”

“Living Is So Easy” is a splendid example of the band’s softer aspect—a confident glider, its muted electro effects and partially mechanized percussion quickly fading into ornamentation thanks to the seductive velvet of the melody, as delivered by Bowiesque lead singer Yan Scott Wilkinson (no longer just Yan, as previously). Muted volume does not require muted sentiment, however; Wilkinson may croon voluptuously about the party everyone is going to, but he is taking down the partiers along the way, skewering the hollow victory of shallow consumerism via the repeated image of everyone going to this unnamed party—which is really just life in our celebrity-addled world—and how “easy” everything is. By the end I think we understand that maybe “easy” isn’t all it’s cracked up to be; maybe “easy” isn’t the sole value to which we should be aspiring.

Once a quartet, BSP today features six members, including, now, a woman (Abi Fry, who plays viola and sings harmonies). The band has eased up on some of its posturey quirkiness (they’re not in WWI military uniforms in their press photos anymore, and they’ve ditched their one-name names), but the musical power and poise remain, 10 years on. “Living Is So Easy” is a song from the band’s forthcoming album, Valhalla Dancehall, arriving next month on Rough Trade Records. MP3 via Rough Trade. The album is BSP’s fifth full-length release; the band has been featured previously on Fingertips in 2003 and 2005.