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| So simple, so good. |
Welcome to the April 2019 MAME Playlist post, which, in a better world, will be the last whale I produce. (Here’s to hoping future plans come together). I posted a 50-song playlist for the month (there’s more where that came from; username snackyd), and all the songs on that playlist are linked to somewhere down below. I highlight three artists (chosen more or less at random) down below - Faye Webster, Martha (the band, not a person), and Shad – by sharing some stuff about who they are, where they come from and what they do. The rest of the playlist is mostly random. Mostly.
I posted some other write-ups on some other artists earlier this month, and some of the songs by those bands stuck to this month’s playlist. You can read about them in those posts, which I’ve linked to under the names of each band, and I’ll list/link to the songs by each that I held onto for this playlist. Those include: Weyes Blood (mellow, airy indie with gorgeous vocals, “A Lot’s Gonna Change,” “Andromeda,” and “Mirror Forever”); Orange Goblin (metal from the hard rock school mostly, “The Astral Project,” “Magic Carpet,” and “Aquatic Fanatic”); and The Who (you know them, but the story behind Lifehouse is a doozy, “Whiskey Man,” “Pictures of Lily,” “A Quick One (While He’s Away),” “Relay,” “5:15,” and “Slip Kid”).
All right, time to look at this month’s playlist’s featured artists…in which I accidentally go from oldest to youngest.
Faye Webster, [Eponymous]
I think it was last month when Discover Weekly pitched Faye Webster’s “Room Temperature” my way. It’s probably part of the promotional push for Webster’s upcoming album, Atlanta Millionaires Club, and, between that and the still-better, “Kingston,” I have high hopes for that new release. But it’s not out yet (think it said late May, like, May 26), so I’m stuck with her 2017 eponymous album. The one with the understatedly freaking awesome album cover (see above).
I posted some other write-ups on some other artists earlier this month, and some of the songs by those bands stuck to this month’s playlist. You can read about them in those posts, which I’ve linked to under the names of each band, and I’ll list/link to the songs by each that I held onto for this playlist. Those include: Weyes Blood (mellow, airy indie with gorgeous vocals, “A Lot’s Gonna Change,” “Andromeda,” and “Mirror Forever”); Orange Goblin (metal from the hard rock school mostly, “The Astral Project,” “Magic Carpet,” and “Aquatic Fanatic”); and The Who (you know them, but the story behind Lifehouse is a doozy, “Whiskey Man,” “Pictures of Lily,” “A Quick One (While He’s Away),” “Relay,” “5:15,” and “Slip Kid”).
All right, time to look at this month’s playlist’s featured artists…in which I accidentally go from oldest to youngest.
Faye Webster, [Eponymous]
I think it was last month when Discover Weekly pitched Faye Webster’s “Room Temperature” my way. It’s probably part of the promotional push for Webster’s upcoming album, Atlanta Millionaires Club, and, between that and the still-better, “Kingston,” I have high hopes for that new release. But it’s not out yet (think it said late May, like, May 26), so I’m stuck with her 2017 eponymous album. The one with the understatedly freaking awesome album cover (see above).
Webster comes from Atlanta, Georgia, and a creative family (something I see a lot when researching musicians). Musically, she grew up on old country, but branched out into Atlanta-area local hip hop – specifically, material put out by Awful Records. That branching out eventually lead her to membership in a “rap collective” called PSA, and you hear both influences in her sound. Her choice of instruments that makes her earliest influences stand out more: “No matter what music I end up making I will always use pedal steel... It's in my roots. I love pedal steel.”
Across the handful of interviews I read for this blurb (found that one in a 2018 article on Line of Best Fit), two genre descriptors come up most often: “folk” and “Americana.” She grudgingly uses “alt-folk,” and with good reason. If you listen to “Kingston,” or, better still, “She Won’t Go Away,” the first track on Faye Webster, that’s not folk, or even alt-folk. Even if her rhythm structure sounds like it’d work in folk (or even country), the fluid, warm tones that fill in the background sound like they come from a different place, maybe even a combination of them. When those interviews referenced hip hop influence, I assume that’s where that comes from. Or, as Highsnobiety framed it (just a few hours ago):
“The twang of folk and bluegrass dominates the frame of Webster’s work, but the subtle presence of R&B and hip-hop serves as a complementary component rather than a contradictory factor.”
That sound blended with Webster’s vocals set a mood both soothing and disarming. Or disarming because it’s soothing.
When I first saw that three years that passed between Webster’s debut album, Run & Tell, I got it in my head that she’s a slow-output artist. There’s some truth to that (Highsnobiety, again), but it was also a matter of growing up. Webster has been writing music since age 14 and she dropped Run & Tell on the Debbie Gibson time-line (e.g., she was 16). She’ll crack 22 at some point during the run of Atlanta Millionaires Club (she has to, right?), but, even if she’s been in the music business for close to one-third of her entire life, she still has a lot to learn. And when I went from Run & Tell (a couple times) and really started to Faye Webster and the two teaser tracks off Atlanta, you hear a woman who’s learning fast.
Like just about everything Webster has put out, Faye Webster tops out at an easy second gear. Her step forward comes with the layering and accents – just the dimension she adds to Run & Tell’s barer folk sound (and I’d count “Kingston” her most assured song). Faye Webster is not a “fuck you” to folk by any means (see “It’s Not a Sad Thing” and “What’s the Point”), and she has interesting things to say about that in an interview with Ladygunn:
“So I really wanted to make sure I had at least two songs kind of like my old record, but it’s kind of like: “Okay, I’m growing away from this, kind of starting a new thing.”
To wrap up, “She Won’t Go Away” was always my favorite track from the album – it’s the most “out there” – but she stretches her creative chops in within a fairly narrow sound palette. For instance, the 70s-mellow rock vibe of “Say It Now” stood out for the same reason the closer to hip hop rhythm on “I Know You” (when it finally comes in; especially the bass). Anyway, those were the songs I kept for the playlist from Faye Webster – that and “Kingston” (fwiw, “Room Temperature" stuck to April’s playlist). As surprised as I am to like what Webster puts out, I think a found a thread that explains it. Those start with her thoughts on Nashville and majoring in songwriting, but this comes even closer:
“It was just how to sell your songs, or how to write for other people, and I would never want to write for someone else — that just disgusts me.”
Martha, Blisters in the Pit of My Heart
I strongly suspect that the late release of Martha’s latest album, Love Keeps Kicking, caused Spotify to “accidentally remember” that I once carried “Ice Cream and Sunscreen” on a variety of playlists through from the second half of 2016, and into 2017, it was nice to reconnect with that band and that song. It’s also a chance to do something I failed to do last time – i.e., actually look into Martha in order to update a cutesy shorthand that now feels woefully incomplete: “They have described themselves as queer, straight edge, vegan and anarchist.”
Based on the few things I’ve read about Martha (including this email dialogue with NPR that felt like spending a week with them), they are very much all of those things, and that collection of words bears the burden of certain cultural expectations – among them, being insufferable and insufferably serious. And if you watch a live performance, they do come off a little serious, even a little stiff (also, they made Chris Gethard (which I can’t translate to a comedian doing Carson in any meaningful way)). Martha provides a useful push against stereotype because, while who they are informs what they do, it translates into their music as smart, endearing, rock-kick puncuated stories. A better description of what makes Martha works comes from this quote by Radiator Hospital’s Sam Cook-Parrott (from a complimentary Rolling Stone(!) article about that recently-released album):
“One of the first things that drew me to Martha is that they have a perfect way of mixing politics and pop songwriting. That’s really hard to do. A lot of times it just comes off heavy-handed or awkward, but they effortlessly write really catchy, fun pop songs that are super thoughtful and have a lot of important things to say.”
That’s even more surprising given where Martha come from a village in the northeast-touching-Scotland of England called Pity Me (another favorite anecdote). The nucleus circles around a brother and sister – Nathan Stephens-Griffin (drums/vocals) and Naomi Griffin (bass/vocals) – and the Durham DIY punk community, JC Cairns and Daniel Ellis (both guitar/vocals; yes, they’re all vocals). They came into the DIY ethic honestly because, as noted in that NPR epic:
“And when it comes to DIY, living in a small town, it's kind of ingrained. You're forced to do things yourself, because otherwise they won't happen. We've been putting on and playing shows together since we were kids…”
I hardly hurts that, again, the Griffins’ dad was a pub musician (is it handed down, generation to generation?). However I rate them as performers, Martha put together one hell of an album with Blisters in the Pit of My Heart, the album that featured “Ice Cream and Sunscreen” and where the title came from. A list of their influences signals what you’ll hear (and loudly; thanks, Wikipedia!): “They have variously cited The Housemartins, Motown, Billy Bragg, The Thermals, Ted Leo, power pop, The Replacements, Heart, The Marked Men, Big Star, Masshysteri, and The Exploding Hearts as influences.” If you like half of those bands, and one of those things (e.g., power pop; like I do), there’s a better than fair chance you’ll like Martha. The musical opposite of dour – think anthemic, melodic and, a lot of it, outright peppy – they’re a fun band to listen to.
The songs I fell in love with from Blisters in the Pit of My Heart show off Martha’s (always) collective talent for lyrical hooks, musical hooks, and that split-second of dead-air that they shatter with a crash from every instrument they play. (Just to note it, they started by incorporating horns and keyboards, and more of a Motown inspiration, but they kept drifting back to pop punk.) After “Ice Cream and Sunscreen,” “Do Whatever” landed that trick best for me, while I drifted toward songs like “St. Paul’s (Westerberg Comprehensive)” and “11:45, Legless in Brandon” for something else people cite when admiring Martha’s music: the personality and specificity of it, the attempt to put their specific (if lightly adapted) experiences out into the world to see who responds. As it turns out, quite a few people – as that Rolling Stone piece points out, they sold out a good-sized venue in London, and, as Wikipedia notes, they’re well-known enough to tour in the U.S. (and only on DIY tickets, of course). And they do all that while holding down day-jobs. All the same, a favorable review by Rolling Stone makes the case that authenticity still sells.
Shad, A Short Story About a War
“It feels natural to me. I am into making music as a fan. I’m not trained as a musician. I’ve learned everything I know by listening to the music.”
Of all the artists reviewed this week, Shad (aka, Shadrach Kabango) is the one you might know, even if accidentally. For instance, some Canadians might not him from his very brief run as Gian Ghomeshi’s (eek!) replacement on CBC’s q (“Canada’s liveliest arts, culture and entertainment magazine”), but that seems like localized mainstream, and he lasted only one year at the helm. His broader claims to fame include providing narration/enthusiasm to Netflix’s Hip Hop Evolution documentary series, or from his own work as a hip hop artist. Both deserve attention (Hip Hop Evolution is really, really good), but his latest project – 2018’s A Short Story About a War – takes a big step toward arresting.
That’s even more surprising given where Martha come from a village in the northeast-touching-Scotland of England called Pity Me (another favorite anecdote). The nucleus circles around a brother and sister – Nathan Stephens-Griffin (drums/vocals) and Naomi Griffin (bass/vocals) – and the Durham DIY punk community, JC Cairns and Daniel Ellis (both guitar/vocals; yes, they’re all vocals). They came into the DIY ethic honestly because, as noted in that NPR epic:
“And when it comes to DIY, living in a small town, it's kind of ingrained. You're forced to do things yourself, because otherwise they won't happen. We've been putting on and playing shows together since we were kids…”
I hardly hurts that, again, the Griffins’ dad was a pub musician (is it handed down, generation to generation?). However I rate them as performers, Martha put together one hell of an album with Blisters in the Pit of My Heart, the album that featured “Ice Cream and Sunscreen” and where the title came from. A list of their influences signals what you’ll hear (and loudly; thanks, Wikipedia!): “They have variously cited The Housemartins, Motown, Billy Bragg, The Thermals, Ted Leo, power pop, The Replacements, Heart, The Marked Men, Big Star, Masshysteri, and The Exploding Hearts as influences.” If you like half of those bands, and one of those things (e.g., power pop; like I do), there’s a better than fair chance you’ll like Martha. The musical opposite of dour – think anthemic, melodic and, a lot of it, outright peppy – they’re a fun band to listen to.
The songs I fell in love with from Blisters in the Pit of My Heart show off Martha’s (always) collective talent for lyrical hooks, musical hooks, and that split-second of dead-air that they shatter with a crash from every instrument they play. (Just to note it, they started by incorporating horns and keyboards, and more of a Motown inspiration, but they kept drifting back to pop punk.) After “Ice Cream and Sunscreen,” “Do Whatever” landed that trick best for me, while I drifted toward songs like “St. Paul’s (Westerberg Comprehensive)” and “11:45, Legless in Brandon” for something else people cite when admiring Martha’s music: the personality and specificity of it, the attempt to put their specific (if lightly adapted) experiences out into the world to see who responds. As it turns out, quite a few people – as that Rolling Stone piece points out, they sold out a good-sized venue in London, and, as Wikipedia notes, they’re well-known enough to tour in the U.S. (and only on DIY tickets, of course). And they do all that while holding down day-jobs. All the same, a favorable review by Rolling Stone makes the case that authenticity still sells.
Shad, A Short Story About a War
“It feels natural to me. I am into making music as a fan. I’m not trained as a musician. I’ve learned everything I know by listening to the music.”
Of all the artists reviewed this week, Shad (aka, Shadrach Kabango) is the one you might know, even if accidentally. For instance, some Canadians might not him from his very brief run as Gian Ghomeshi’s (eek!) replacement on CBC’s q (“Canada’s liveliest arts, culture and entertainment magazine”), but that seems like localized mainstream, and he lasted only one year at the helm. His broader claims to fame include providing narration/enthusiasm to Netflix’s Hip Hop Evolution documentary series, or from his own work as a hip hop artist. Both deserve attention (Hip Hop Evolution is really, really good), but his latest project – 2018’s A Short Story About a War – takes a big step toward arresting.
If Shad’s musical output dried up during all the traveling, interviewing and taping to make Hip Hop Evolution, his 2018 release shows off what he can, oh, drop a creatively and conceptually ambitious project during his down time (described as two weeks on two weeks off in a 2019 interview with an outlet called Vancouver Is Awesome). For an artist who often comes off as playful and uplifting, and focused on day-in-the-life observation (e.g., “Fam Jam (Fe Sum Immigrins)” and “Fire,” both on the playlist), A Short Story serves up a dark, unified narrative – the short story of the title. Yes, A Short Story About a War is a concept album. Shad actually returned for an interview with q where (after some cross-talk*) he laid out the three primary characters that narrate the short story’s war: The first, "The Sniper" (here’s that track), represents uneasy wealth, the all-against-all scramble for security and privilege; "The Stone-Throwers" come next (the track), the dispossessed and downtrodden, the people fighting with stones because that’s all they have; lastly, and the musical tone signals the shift, he introduces The Fool, a visionary who sees fear that’s driving the war and rejects it, all the way down to believing bullets can harm anyone. In a Now Toronto Review, he sums up the thrust of the album/story like so:
“Also when I think about this album and the central question of ‘What does it take to see through the illusion of fear?’ to me, the answer is something spiritual – it’s not facts or figures. It’s a discipline – of finding hope and love, and maintaining it.’”
He puts it even more succinctly toward the end “The Fool Pit 1 (Get It Got It Good),” with this: “Answer this one question, but answer honestly. What are you afraid of?” If that’s not a question for the times, I don’t know what is.
Anyway, that’s one hell of an album. I accidentally started picking at it last month when I pulled “The Fool Pt 1” onto the March 2019 playlist. I liked it for sounding like “a Shad song” - e.g., “It Ain’t Over,” which showed up on Melancholy and the Infinite Shadness, which, between the song and that album’s name, gives all kinds hints as to what he’s all about. As revealed by this month’s playlist, I went through a lot of Shad’s albums and EPs before settling on two of them after A Short Story About a War as favorites: 2013’s Flying Colours (probably my favorite overall) and Boarding Pass - EP. Shad shines as a lyricist across everything he does, a sharp, light sense of humor lacing through the word-play, and he quotes and references relentlessly (the first few bars of “It Ain’t Over,” as well as the sample). The song “Stylin’”(again, Flying Colours) makes as good an introduction to Shad and his sensibilities as any I can think of, so maybe start there.
The fragmentation of media and the death of gatekeepers makes it less clear whether anyone is truly “big” beyond the obvious names (e.g., Jay-Z, Arianna Grande). Still, when he talks about being “the biggest thing to come out Canada since Pamela’s double-Ds” halfway through “I Get Down” (good track; from When This Is Over), I thought “Drake?” every time I heard that, until I read that Shad swiped the 2011 Juno Award out from under Drake, which means that held up for at least one year. And Shad was as surprised to win the award as anyone else.
To wrap up Shad before flagging the rest of the tracks on this month’s playlist, A Short Story About a War impressed me for its focus and scope. That said, he tackles political themes with aplomb (see “Homie” from The Spring Up), at least as easily as his slice-of-life observational stuff (TSOL’s “Rose Garden”). To wrap up, a few more Shad tracks made the playlist: “Y’All Know Me” and another, representative gem from A Short Story, “The Revolution/The Establishment.” And, to finally pivot to the rest of the playlist, I pulled “Good (Enough)” from his side project called Your Boy Tony Braxton, in he which he decided to put together an album of him taking a stab at 90s R&B. It’s a fun little lark, and it boasts a couple decent tracks (“Fall (Girl)” made my 2018 Top 100). Now, onto the rest of the playlist.
First, and this assumes the next phase of this project comes together as planned, I’ll be producing shorter playlists and posting them more often going forward. Ideally, that’ll free up time to where I can at give (really) short details about all the relevant artists I’m listening to. This time around, and in the interest of getting this posted, I’m just going to list songs and artists and give a thumbnail description of the songs.
Anderson.Paak – “King James”
A fluid, funk-inspired tribute to…LeBron James, I’m pretty sure.
Autolux – “Change My Head”
A lightly, synth-psychedelic slightly absurdist track with a dash of paranoia.
Betty Davis – “Hangin’ Out”
More an extended jam session/thread of riffs than a song, but it’s one hell of a toe-tapper.
Courtney Barnett – “Small Poppies”
I’ve struggled with liking her for as long as I’ve known about her, but the hungover steel guitar sound on this one worked for me.
Earthless – “Gifted by the Wind”
This very capably feeds my appetite for 70s-inspired hard rock.
Easy Life – “Sunday”
A slurring synth iteration of what R&B might sound like if the Brits invented it.
Ezra Furman – “Tell Em All to Go to Hell”
A 50s-inspired rocker. Straight-forward as you like.
Harlem – “Friendly Ghost”
Garage-rock sound with the goofy premise of speaking as, near as I can tell, Casper the Friendly Ghost.
Hayes Carll – “KMAG YOYO”
I gave this artist a fair shot (and will circle back one day), but this one really stood out. A tale about a soldier serving in Afghanistan, served up in the spirit of “Subterranean Homesick Blues.”
H. C. McEntire – “Houses of the Holy”
One of my favorites of the month, a quiet, elegant slice of Americana.
Kinski – “Punching Goodbye Out Front”
Love the guitar in this one, from the heavy side of the indie-rock tradition.
Laura Jane Grace & the Devouring Mothers – “China Beach”
That’s clearly a dude singing, but there’s something charming to the puzzled/angry lyrics. Leans punk, musically.
Michael Rault – “I’ll Be There”
I’ve bumped into this artist before, and this sounds livelier than what I remember, and in a good way. I pulled this from a decent compilation called The Wild World of Wick Records; I really dig the interplay between the bass and guitar.
Scallops Hotel – “Gnosis, Black Nationalism, Rice”
Mellow, cool-toned hip hop with smart, abstracted lyrics (as you’d expect from that title); also, I found the line “Understand I’d trade my entire fanbase for one more handshake from Rob” either arresting or haunting.
Shovels & Rope – “Mississippi Nuthin’”
Kind of like X meets Springsteen, only from Mississippi, and all that implies.
TeaMarr – “One Job”
I can’t explain why I love this song, but I think it involves its bluntness.
The Coathangers – “Bimbo”
I’ve heard them a few times – garage-meets-girl-group (roughly) – but they do something more subtle here, and I like it.
The Drums – “Body Chemistry”
An electronic, 80s-esque track that features a truly great chorus.
The Fratellis – “Whistle for the Choir” and “Chelsea Dagger”
Twitter should ask people for their five favorite bands every day. Really good power-pop – can’t believe I’d never heard them before now – and those songs show them in a couple modes.
Titus Andronicus – “Above the Bodega (Local Business)”
Hard to nail down a genre – folk-meets-indie-rock – but the backing vocals make it stand out a bit.
Weaves – “Slicked”
A quirky indie-rock number, with lots of potentially grating touches, but I find those charming.
All right, that’s the whole thing. Hope people find something to love in there.
“Also when I think about this album and the central question of ‘What does it take to see through the illusion of fear?’ to me, the answer is something spiritual – it’s not facts or figures. It’s a discipline – of finding hope and love, and maintaining it.’”
He puts it even more succinctly toward the end “The Fool Pit 1 (Get It Got It Good),” with this: “Answer this one question, but answer honestly. What are you afraid of?” If that’s not a question for the times, I don’t know what is.
Anyway, that’s one hell of an album. I accidentally started picking at it last month when I pulled “The Fool Pt 1” onto the March 2019 playlist. I liked it for sounding like “a Shad song” - e.g., “It Ain’t Over,” which showed up on Melancholy and the Infinite Shadness, which, between the song and that album’s name, gives all kinds hints as to what he’s all about. As revealed by this month’s playlist, I went through a lot of Shad’s albums and EPs before settling on two of them after A Short Story About a War as favorites: 2013’s Flying Colours (probably my favorite overall) and Boarding Pass - EP. Shad shines as a lyricist across everything he does, a sharp, light sense of humor lacing through the word-play, and he quotes and references relentlessly (the first few bars of “It Ain’t Over,” as well as the sample). The song “Stylin’”(again, Flying Colours) makes as good an introduction to Shad and his sensibilities as any I can think of, so maybe start there.
The fragmentation of media and the death of gatekeepers makes it less clear whether anyone is truly “big” beyond the obvious names (e.g., Jay-Z, Arianna Grande). Still, when he talks about being “the biggest thing to come out Canada since Pamela’s double-Ds” halfway through “I Get Down” (good track; from When This Is Over), I thought “Drake?” every time I heard that, until I read that Shad swiped the 2011 Juno Award out from under Drake, which means that held up for at least one year. And Shad was as surprised to win the award as anyone else.
To wrap up Shad before flagging the rest of the tracks on this month’s playlist, A Short Story About a War impressed me for its focus and scope. That said, he tackles political themes with aplomb (see “Homie” from The Spring Up), at least as easily as his slice-of-life observational stuff (TSOL’s “Rose Garden”). To wrap up, a few more Shad tracks made the playlist: “Y’All Know Me” and another, representative gem from A Short Story, “The Revolution/The Establishment.” And, to finally pivot to the rest of the playlist, I pulled “Good (Enough)” from his side project called Your Boy Tony Braxton, in he which he decided to put together an album of him taking a stab at 90s R&B. It’s a fun little lark, and it boasts a couple decent tracks (“Fall (Girl)” made my 2018 Top 100). Now, onto the rest of the playlist.
First, and this assumes the next phase of this project comes together as planned, I’ll be producing shorter playlists and posting them more often going forward. Ideally, that’ll free up time to where I can at give (really) short details about all the relevant artists I’m listening to. This time around, and in the interest of getting this posted, I’m just going to list songs and artists and give a thumbnail description of the songs.
Anderson.Paak – “King James”
A fluid, funk-inspired tribute to…LeBron James, I’m pretty sure.
Autolux – “Change My Head”
A lightly, synth-psychedelic slightly absurdist track with a dash of paranoia.
Betty Davis – “Hangin’ Out”
More an extended jam session/thread of riffs than a song, but it’s one hell of a toe-tapper.
Courtney Barnett – “Small Poppies”
I’ve struggled with liking her for as long as I’ve known about her, but the hungover steel guitar sound on this one worked for me.
Earthless – “Gifted by the Wind”
This very capably feeds my appetite for 70s-inspired hard rock.
Easy Life – “Sunday”
A slurring synth iteration of what R&B might sound like if the Brits invented it.
Ezra Furman – “Tell Em All to Go to Hell”
A 50s-inspired rocker. Straight-forward as you like.
Harlem – “Friendly Ghost”
Garage-rock sound with the goofy premise of speaking as, near as I can tell, Casper the Friendly Ghost.
Hayes Carll – “KMAG YOYO”
I gave this artist a fair shot (and will circle back one day), but this one really stood out. A tale about a soldier serving in Afghanistan, served up in the spirit of “Subterranean Homesick Blues.”
H. C. McEntire – “Houses of the Holy”
One of my favorites of the month, a quiet, elegant slice of Americana.
Kinski – “Punching Goodbye Out Front”
Love the guitar in this one, from the heavy side of the indie-rock tradition.
Laura Jane Grace & the Devouring Mothers – “China Beach”
That’s clearly a dude singing, but there’s something charming to the puzzled/angry lyrics. Leans punk, musically.
Michael Rault – “I’ll Be There”
I’ve bumped into this artist before, and this sounds livelier than what I remember, and in a good way. I pulled this from a decent compilation called The Wild World of Wick Records; I really dig the interplay between the bass and guitar.
Scallops Hotel – “Gnosis, Black Nationalism, Rice”
Mellow, cool-toned hip hop with smart, abstracted lyrics (as you’d expect from that title); also, I found the line “Understand I’d trade my entire fanbase for one more handshake from Rob” either arresting or haunting.
Shovels & Rope – “Mississippi Nuthin’”
Kind of like X meets Springsteen, only from Mississippi, and all that implies.
TeaMarr – “One Job”
I can’t explain why I love this song, but I think it involves its bluntness.
The Coathangers – “Bimbo”
I’ve heard them a few times – garage-meets-girl-group (roughly) – but they do something more subtle here, and I like it.
The Drums – “Body Chemistry”
An electronic, 80s-esque track that features a truly great chorus.
The Fratellis – “Whistle for the Choir” and “Chelsea Dagger”
Twitter should ask people for their five favorite bands every day. Really good power-pop – can’t believe I’d never heard them before now – and those songs show them in a couple modes.
Titus Andronicus – “Above the Bodega (Local Business)”
Hard to nail down a genre – folk-meets-indie-rock – but the backing vocals make it stand out a bit.
Weaves – “Slicked”
A quirky indie-rock number, with lots of potentially grating touches, but I find those charming.
All right, that’s the whole thing. Hope people find something to love in there.
HEYA! I am just checking this site out before I head to a show- and yes- that is a DAMN good album cover........
ReplyDeleteAnderson Paak - rocks and that song is so frickin timely - I dig him - he os coming to Seattle and I think I might go (if not sold out) --- something of a 70's vibe to it --
ReplyDelete