Jack White continues to solidify his role as one of the most proflic figures in modern rock. He’s always creating, and never dissapoints. That being said, none of his divergences have ever quite lived up to the raw power of his White Stripes material, his new song under the name Dead Weather being no exception. For this band, White has teamed up with lead Kill Allisson Mosshart, Queens of the Stone Age guitarist Dean Fertia and Raconteur‘s bassist Jack Lawence. White plays drums and sings. Muddy, droning guitars back androgynous vocals (is it White or Mosshart? Whitehart? Mosswhite?) and a savage hi-hat attack, courtesy of White. For the time being, this’ll satisfy my Jack White intake. I’m still eagerly awaiting whatever he does as the Stripes next though.
I have several places of note I would like to direct you. Once a month, at a house in Allston, a bunch of folk singers get together to sing songs for each other. Along with my friend Addision, I covered this event for the Boston Phoenix. Addison also edited some footage for the Boston music blog EnoughCowbell.com, some of our friends. Here are several links to some amazing performances by some genuine Boston folk singers. And check back with EnoughCowbell over the next few days for some more footage. (Above photo credit: Ryan McCune)
The Boston Phoenix – Montage video and accompanying article. Brief into to the absurd talent gathered in the room that night. As we gather more footage, we’ll unveil these glimpses in full.
Cymbals Eat Guitars is a Staten Island four-piece that plays some pretty sweet indie-rock. End generic intro. Their album “Why There Are Mountains” plays like a slideshow – each track has it’s own flow, it’s own personality, it’s own definite chronological place, yet it retains the cohesion of a purpose-built album. The songs flow through valleys, high into peaks, and descend on the other side, guided by squealing guitars into a loopy haze (perhaps a literal interpreation of the album title?).
I’m dropping two tracks today, representative of two different sounds.
Spacey-keyboards start “Share” before giving way to the slow, industrial trudge on guitars channeling the axe-saw grind of My Bloody Valentine’s “To Here Knows When.” The requisite haze shimmers over the vocals and bass plods along, roughly mirroring the melody with several notes. The song plateaus as horns enter the mix, bellowing triumph over crushing guitars, and a screeching, Malkmusian guitar solo. Victory.
And here we have the opener. A see-sawing harmony teetters over screaming synths and guitars before the songs mellows, and the vocals enter atop softer, prettier instrumentation. It’s a six-minute joy ride. I’m pretty tired, and this album is now lulling me to sleep. So instead of half-assing the rest, I’m just going to tell you to listen. So do it.
The Drones are a grizzled, straight-up hard-rock band from Australia. I’ve been stuck in a twisted post-rock/hard rock cycle after downloading the top 25 releases from Touch & Go last week (Slint has haunted me since high school, the Jesus Lizard is further eroding my sanity). I haven’t slept much, and my dreams have been sinister. The Drones have not helped my predicament.
This isn’t typical IndieMuse material, but this album has hit me hard. Singer Garret Liddiard sings, screams and growls his way through the songs, following loosely constructed guitar narratives that are as gnarled as they are melodic. The more grizzly segments are punctuated by fluid, post-rock instrumental breakdowns and intense, cross-panning guitar solos; a shining light lent to the chaos. Their crescendos reach drastic heights, only to immediately plummet into paced, segmented arpeggios, an approach that mirrors Liddiard’s overwhelmingly bleak lyrics. But where the album is universally downcast – failed marriages, broken friendships, and a general disdain for the human race – it’s a contextual down. It’s an accessible heartbreak, because while his stories sound far more wretched than anything encountered in my own life, I’m totally with him when he wails at the end of “Nail it Downâ€: “Cause I’d try anything if I could only get along with you.â€
On “Luck in Odd Numbers,†random double drum hits, spaced throughout the song, propel warbling guitars into the cosmos, backed by a spindly, walking bass lead that sounds like a corrupted John-Paul Jones. Each drum hit lends Liddiard more confidence, an increased gait as he spits his story. And deep into the song comes the requisite hard rock solo – squealing leads and layers of fuzz, a massive guitar and drum attack; the complete, visceral discharge of the previous seven minutes. Check the lyric sheet here.
I’ve recently been obsessing over a delightful album called Silent Shout, the 2006 album by Swedish brother/sister duo The Knife. First, a little background on The Knife: Composed of siblings Karin Dreijer Andersson and Olof Dreijer, The Knife released their debut self-titled LP in 2001 on their own label, Rabid Records. Since then, they have released two more LPs, Deep Cuts in 2003 and Silent Shout in 2006, before announcing a three year hiatus after the release of Silent Shout. Karin Dreijer Andersson has already turned heads in 2009 with her self-titled debut Fever Ray. Silent Shout is truly one of the best pieces of music I’ve heard in a while. The sound of the album could fall loosely into the genre of minimalist techno, but yet there is so much more.
The album’s sparse drum loops, simple arpeggios and thick reverb layered sound calls to mind Thom Yorke’s 2006 solo effort The Eraser. But tracks like “Silent Shout,†“The Captain,†and “Forest Families†create an aura something closer to psychedelic trance inducing vibes of Brightblack Morning Light, Black Moth Super Rainbow or Animal Collective’s Merriweather Post Pavilion. The vocals are unique and varied; some songs feature Olof Dreijer moaning at a distorted evil low pitch while others find their energy in the sheer power of Karin’s voice. Whether she’s spitting rhythmically, in songs like “Neverland†or the brilliantly catchy “We Share Our Mother’s Health,†or emotionally proclaiming her love over brooding synths during “Marble House,†Karin Dreijer Andersson is what gives The Knife their cutting edge. Upon doing more research on the group, I quickly became acquainted with their oddities. Wearing strange masks onstage and in photo shoots, sending people to accept awards for them, etc. For me, their mysterious personas only made the album even cooler, because Silent Shout is one of those albums whose rich textures makes you feel like you’re in another world. The album comes paired with Silent Shout: An Audio Visual Experience, which is a recording of a show during the Silent Shout tour. From the looks of photo’s like this:
Hey everyone. Just wanted to quickly share some sweeeeet music with y’all.
I don’t really watch anime, but in terms of soundtracks, some of the most thoughtful arranging and composition can be heard in shows like Cowboy Bebop, for example. A friend of mine recently gave me the soundtrack to Samurai Champloo, a ShinichirÅ Watanabe creation. It features work by producers, musicians and artists: Nujabes, Fat Jon, MINMI, Force Of Nature, Tsutchie. It’s amazing. Once again, I don’t know much about the show, but the use of sampling, sequencing and fusion makes for an unbelievably smooth, Eastern-influenced compilation spanning four discs and 79 tracks–if you like what you hear, you will not be disappointed. It is a tasteful balance of trip-hop beats, jazz and the underground Japanese hip-hop movement that feels new and comfortable all at once. For your weekend chillout:
It’s becoming increasingly difficult in today’s music industry to see artists initiating connections with their fans. With the instant gratification both bands and fans have demanded with innovations in technology, I sometimes feel that less emphasis is put on the culture of music, and more is put on the business aspect. Both sides are obviously important, but as a species bound by incentives, I really appreciate when people find as much reward in connections and the sharing of ideas, as they do in monetary value.
This is one of the reasons why I feel so attached to Ben Cooper’s music. He is in the duo Electric President and also has a great side project called Radical Face. Both are signed to Morr music, and while Cooper understands the importance of having to make money just as much as the next guy, he also understands the need to go beyond that. Unlike many artists, who turn into businessmen and quickly forget about the art, Cooper has upheld his love for music to the fullest.
Cooper recently started a project called “Patients,” which is more or less a compilation of recorded songs that never had a good home. The project consisted of him personally producing 100 CDs and decorating it and its package with spray paint and markers. To receive one of the CDs, you had to trade something, anything, with Cooper, as long as it wasn’t money.
To get a full appreciation for how much time Cooper put into this project, you have to check out his site. Not only did he invest money—in producing the CDs, opening a P.O box, and paying postage– he also thoughtfully wrote about the entire project by listing the 100 trades that he received and the explanations behind each track on the album. It’s easy to tell how meaningful this project was to him. From his blog:
I feel odd using this phrase, but multiple times I found myself moved by the things someone traded or said — moved to sentiment, or laughter, or surprise. Some even left me scratching my head, or made me blush.
I love that many of you included letters with your packages, explaining your trades, and sometimes even sharing a little slice of your life with me. In many ways, that was my favorite part — getting little glimpses into what motivated you to do this, why you chose what you did, what it meant to you. I love stories, and genuinely appreciate that I got so many of them. And more than once I was pretty shocked that someone traded me something of such obvious sentiment to them. As strange as it may sound, this project was kind of reaffirming. It changed my outlook on people as a whole to something more optimistic. And the best thing is I didn’t see it coming. To be blindsided in a positive way is a wonderful thing.
This project also moved me, and I’m thrilled I was able to take part in it (can you guess which number I am?). It too left me with a feeling of optimism knowing we can still triumph our capitalist ways. I would have gladly paid to receive this album from Cooper, but it wouldn’t have held nearly the same value that it does this way. This is an album that I am never going to forget.
You can still participate in the project via email! Check here for details.
“This was the last song I wrote on my former piano before the hammers got completely stuck and it had to be thrown out [read Dec 27th, 2007 post to read story, see piano.] It was originally just a scratch demo for a general sound I wanted to use on my next Radical Face record, but I kept running with it and liked how it came out. And since that piano died on my the next night, it wound up being the last song to ever come out of it.”
“This is basically a country song. I wrote this song about 3 years ago, and recorded the drums for it while working on Astronautalis’s record “The Mighty Ocean …†down in Orlando. I tracked the guitars, banjo and bass when I returned home, but didn’t put any vocals or extra instruments on it due to getting sick. Then I forgot about it. So it sat on a hard drive for about a year and a half until I was making back-ups and stumbled upon the files. I still had the notebook with the lyrics, so I went ahead and finished it over the course of a night.”
I only discovered XTC after I finally got sick of hearing Pretty & Nice consistently compared to them and not knowing who they were. So Pretty & Nice, I owe you for introducing me to Skylarking. This album has captured my mind for the last few weeks. I’ve left places early to go home and listen to it. If I have to walk somewhere, anywhere, if even for a minute, I’ll listen to Skylarking. Even 30 seconds of the first song. The hooks are irresistible. I’m slightly more insane for having heard this album. So cheers to my eroding sanity, and all hail Skylarking.
Skylarking has no grounding. The hooks float. They dive when they should pop, and explode when they’re bound to disappear. It’s entirely unpredictable pop music, a bit unsettling but ultimately enveloping. And that’s it, that’s the draw, the part that speaks to some evolutionary swirl beneath each passing listen. Of course the music stays the same, but the mind twists the interpretations and the associations. It’s nearly symbiotic in it’s infectiousness. The bass lines skirt the vocal melody in “Summer’s Cauldron†while jangly keyboards and piano build a dream-like foundation. There’s also a flute line that might have inspired the creation of the Forest Temple in Ocarina of Time. The bass/guitar interaction in “Meeting Place†is all Built to Spill, and the vocals punch from the ether, floating to and from existence before dissolving into lush, sweeping harmonies. Oh, and this lyric: “Machines that make you kiss in time.†There’s something oddly compelling about kissing in time. Romantic, even.
Also, this was released three days before I was born. Coincidence?
It came to me as a pretty big surprise that the Bowling Green, KY’s Foxhole is frequently grouped in with the Christian genre. There is a certain level of quality we are used to with music of the “Christian” variety, and objectively, it has definitely been a limiting factor for some bands, who are immediately dismissed (for whatever reason) simply due to the fact that their music has a spiritual side. My experience with Foxhole’s 2004 LP (Reisued: Burnt Toast 2008), We The Wintering Tree, has led me to believe they are an intelligent and multi-faceted group of individuals with the ability to create well-layered rock music–in any scene. Moreover, almost all of the songs on the LP are, for the most part, vocal-free. Perhaps it’s just their prerogative.
Whatever connotations you associate with the Christian scene or otherwise, there are great moments to be had. Channeling epic sounds that remind me of Explosions in the Sky, Maps or I Love You But I’ve Chosen Darkness, Foxhole has a firm grasp on moving a song along and getting the most out of a particular motif or concept. There is a good deal to find in their music, although it can feel dry or played out at times. Most of the pleasure I’ve found in this album is rooted in its production and harmony. The album feels like it has glue holding it together. That is to say, the album is coherent. As an instrumental endeavor, guitarist and co-foudner Adam Moore has helped create a polyrhythmic sound–through use of horns, strings, sequencers and delay–that is as formidable as it is ethereal, as tasteful as it is an overload. Check it out:
As a dedication to yesterday’s Oscars, I thought I’d help spread this video of Elliott Smith performing “Miss Misery” at the 1997 Academy Awards. As many would agree, it’s one of the most beautifully written songs ever created, and it lost “Original Song” to James Horner’s “My Heart Will Go On” (Will Jennings provided the lyrics famously sung by Celine Dion).
You can listen to the two songs, and decide for yourself, but as far as I’m concerned this award was stolen from Smith. I was going to make a lame, tasteless joke about how “My Heart Will Go On” should have gone down like the Titanic, but it’s probably too soon. Besides, I like to keep it on the safe side and follow the century rule (slavery, ha!), so be expecting many Titanic jokes on Indie Muse in 2012.
But in all seriousness, RIP Elliott. You’ve changed a lot of lives for the better.
