I have been known to play guitar [poorly] in the band Kid Omega. All songs posted are for sampling purposes only and will only be hosted for a short time; you should support artists that you like by buying recordings, going to shows, and buying sweet band merch. If you own the rights to a song and want me to take it down, or if you want to submit music for review, shoot me off an email: confoundedfretbuzz [at] gmail dot com
This is a pretty darn good first effort from Long Island's For Those Who Can't Wait. There were three tunes that stood out to me in particular.
"Play Your Note" is a little bit Latterman/Shorebirds-like, and there's nothing wrong with that. After all, given where they call home, it makes perfect sense that their sound would be informed by these groups.
"The Tiger Becomes a Zebra" is a delightfully slow-building epic that sounds like Mineral/Texas Is the Reason/etc. strove to form a more perfect union. I have great love for second-wave emo, so I thus found much endearing about this song.
"Jesus Chrisis" is a fine closer. More dashes of Long Island punx here.
William Elliott Whitmore, purveyor of a fine sort of backcountry Midwestern blues-folk, is mad as hell and he's not going to take it anymore.
From the call and response of the opener "Mutiny" to the closing bars of "A Good Day to Die," there's 37 minutes of one pissed off man spouting about issues of the corruption and evil that surround us in life, of the need to stop dwelling on questions of salvation, and the virtues of hard work. Don't trust the cop ("Johnny Law"), don't trust the politician ("Old Devils," "Who Stole the Soul"), and most certainly don't trust the preacher. Life is a bitter struggle ("Hard Times"), and it's difficult to navigate the way, but it's well worth carrying on and even celebrating the journey ("Hell or High Water").
This is an album autobiographical and incendiary, rustic and timely. Favorite record of the year? Maybe. I'm gonna wrestle with that question for the next few days before I put up a year-end post. So be sure to check back.
A while back, I named 1372 Overton Park as one of the albums coming out this fall that I was most excited to hear. Especially given the strength of the lead single "Hey Darlin' Do You Gamble," I came into this album with high hopes for excellence. On the other hand, I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop with Ben Nichols' voice for years now, and I was afraid that one day he'd trash it and it just wouldn't come back (his backing vocals on "Constructive Summer" on The Hold Steady's 2008 excellent Stay Positive gave me pause). Those fears, thankfully, while certainly not obliterated, have been dulled for the time being, much like the senses and higher brain functions of the band members on any given night they're out on tour (see "Can't Feel a Thing").
The first song, "Smoke," is notable for the inclusion of some Hold Steady-esque piano in the first minute or so. A change of pace for sure, but not all that surprising I suppose given Nichols' work with Craig Finn and company. "Mom" is another standout, just a fantastic ballad and a fine closer for the album. And I would be remiss if I failed to mention "What Are You Willing to Lose?," a sort of call to live life on your own terms, understanding that your path probably isn't going to be easy.
As for the addition of the horns, I don't think their inclusion is a negative. Expanding the sound a 'lil bit, nothing wrong with that. As for moving to a major, this effort doesn't feel overproduced or sterile, so those concerns were allayed. It's just really, really good Southern punk-tinged rock'n'roll. After seven albums, ten years and well over a thousand shows, the boys of Lucero may just now be hitting their stride.
Now We Can See is the document of a band that's grown up a bit. They moved from Sub Pop to Kill Rock Stars, which I'd imagine is part of the reason why they went three years between releases. The band has gradually mellowed from the ferocious, lo-fi attack of their infancy back in the early 2000's, a development especially evidenced on this record. That said, maturity hasn't yet gotten the best of Hutch & Kathy and company. While my first impressions of this album were less stellar, it's a grower. Repeated spins have been beneficial.
2006's The Body, The Blood, The Machine took on organized religion, grabbing you early and refusing to let go for the duration. Now We Can See lacks the same kind of amped-up power chord glory that its predecessors have reveled in. Maybe the more relaxed tone of this record is meant to reflect the greater calm of death; if The Body, The Blood, The Machine was the midst of a war, Now We Can See is the fatalities making small talk.
The lead single (and title track) is nothing short of infectious. If you don't "oh ey oh oh woah oh" during that song at least once you either a) don't have a soul or b) don't have a pulse.
Not everything is here is so instantly catchy. The first couple of times I listed to "At the Bottom of the Sea," I wasn't a fan of the plodding first half of the song, but eventually grew to appreciate it for the epic build that occurs thereafter. Now it's one of my favorites here.
Overall, this album fails to match the same level of passion and immediate reward of TBTBTM, but multiple listens reveal an album that while perhaps not quite as good, is not dwelling too far below the high water mark. After a band puts out a great album, it is unrealistic to expect them to follow it up with a release that is equally as good. Given this rule of tempered expectations that I have adopted, I will gladly accept Now We Can See as a more-than-satisfactory offering of awesome.
First off, credit goes to Dana for notifying me of this album's existence. Without her, this post would not have been possible.
In short, this is a fantastic album of Springsteen covers. I mean, the songs are already classics and really good anyhow, but there is something about a frantically strummed acoustic guitar and imperfect, often straining, emotional vocals that lends a new urgency and infectiousness to these tunes. It's really hard to pick out a favorite because it's all so enjoyable. Alford's sweet voice complements Baribeau's rougher-edged singing quite nicely. I remarked to my friend Adam as a first impression that it sounded like it could have been a recording of an impromptu open mic performance (save for the occasionally present xylophone). I think I'll largely stick to that assessment, though these recordings lack the same sort of epic Brian Fallon-esque vocal reverb that Freud's Open Mic performers revel in at the Clark University Bistro on Thursday nights at 10 pm...
I had been marginally aware of Baribeau's existence before I listened to this album; "Ten Things" quickly became a favorite of mine a while back but for some reason I never got around to getting much else of his recordings. Also, I saw a Pink Couch session with him earlier this year, and some slightly unhinged fellow who wandered into my dorm room back during sophomore year was also apparently a big fan. After listening to Darkness On The Edge Of Your Town, I feel as though I have been missing out and will have to remedy this immediately. Plus, the dude's beard is ridiculous, a characteristic for which I always have great respect and admiration.
John K. Samson is notorious for his slow output, averaging three to four years between albums since The Weakerthans formed in 1997. Of course, many would argue that such waits have been well worth it for what has ended each of them, and I would certainly be inclined to agree.
Thus, it unsurprisingly has been more than two years since the last release of a new song from him, be it solo or with The Weakerthans. Now the time has come, with last Tuesday's release of City Route 85, the first in what is to be a series of EPs exploring the roads around Winnipeg, Manitoba. It is the first solo release from Samson since the 2006 re-release of 1995's Little Pictures. Listening to the two EPs back-to-back strikingly displays the leaps and bounds of musical and lyrical maturation that have occurred over that time. City Route 85 is over almost before it starts, comprised of just three songs totaling just under ten minutes. But the brevity of this EP is made up for by the quality of the material contained therein.
Samson is man whose art is as intertwined with the city he calls home more than anyone else who I can think of. Over the years he has time and again explored the bleak city not too far north of the U.S. border, and yet clearly has not tired of mining it for material. What is impressive about all of this is that for significant percentage of his discography spent dwelling on Winnipeg in one manner or another (for example, even the "Virtute" series is in reference to the city's civic motto, "Unum cum virtute multorum," which more or less means "one with the strength of many"), he might be dealing with the same specific geographic region, but that does not mean he has been writing the same song over and over from the same point of view. On City Route 85, his ability to craft characters who exist within the confines of the city, and who define their lives in some small way by it, is in excellent form.
The production is very stripped down, consisting mostly of just Samson and his acoustic guitar. For a man whose material is so much about the lyrics, he unsurprisingly delivers under these quiet conditions where words are apt to find closer scrutiny.
"Heart of the Continent" is a fantastic little track which reminded me a bit of "One Great City!" if only for the fingerpicking. This is from the point of view of a much more limited narrator than that song, however, as opposed to some omniscient being. Further research confirmed my suspicion that both song titles referred to official slogans that Winnipeg has had.
"Grace General" explores the bleakness of winter on a dilapidated block nearby the hospital where one of the narrator's loved ones (my guess would be his wife) has recently passed on, and the helplessness and hopelessness that the narrator feels with the void left in his life.
"Cruise Night," the catchiest (and shortest) of the three songs, dwells with that common practice of young people of driving around with the music on for the sake of it, symptomatic of the lack of other things to do in town, and also a demonstration of freedom within a confined space--you may be chained to your parents and to your city by your youth and and your means, but you have enough wiggle room within your cage to buy yourself music and drive around your hometown, even if it's not even in your car. There is a great feeling of freedom and being in complete control that comes with operating a vehicle, and this song epitomizes that feeling.
So, you should most definitely pick this up. Especially on seven inch, because vinyl is awesome, ya know?
I was one of the masses won over to this band by the film Once a couple years back, and it's really hard for me not to get behind them. They're just such likable folks, ya know? 2006's The Swell Season had some fantastic tunes with good energy. With a largely acoustic act, one expects things to tend to the more low-key side of things, but on their debut they were able to sprinkle in enough cathartic moments to keep things interesting.
This time around, things seem just a bit more even-keeled, with Glen Hansard not letting loose nearly as often. That's not exactly a harsh indictment of the album; it's as well crafted and heartfelt as its predecessor, and is a better than solid sophomore effort from the group. Perhaps with a few more spins I'll grow to love it instead of just like it. The first track "Low Rising" is a nice soulful song (and a pretty fair choice for the lead single), and "In These Arms" is another highlight, just a straight-up good song (and probably the quietest song in which I've ever heard the word "asshole" used).
I'll admit it. I had a few misgivings about this record before it came out. As much as John Darnielle protested on The Mountain Goats website that he had not experienced some religious revival and was still as much of a lapsed Catholic as ever, and that the new record would not be some uber-religious screed, I had my doubts ["I come from Chino where the asphalt sprouts"].
Should I have feared? No. After all, Darnielle has been seasoning his music with varying degrees of religion for his entire career, be it "Trans-Jordanian Blues" (from On Juhu Beach), "Blues in Dallas" (from All Hail West Texas), "Genesis 19 1-2" (from Devil in the Shortwave), or "I Corinthians 13 8-10" (from Nothing For Juice). Of course, the fan favorite "Golden Boy" deals heavily with themes of the afterlife, cynically portraying heaven as a place as bleakly overrun by commercialization as this mortal coil we know so well. There are other examples in the catalogue I could point to, but by now I'd like to think I've made my point that he has dealt with religious themes frequently throughout his career and always come out the other side without seeming overbearing.
So onto the album. The release of "Genesis 3:23" for download on the 4AD website during the summer worried me. I was afraid that QC had slipped, because to be honest it felt sorta like a rehash of BNL's "The Old Apartment," and given the very close proximity of Darnielle and BNL on the Ships & Dip V cruise this past February, I thought that maybe he'd been tainted by the troubled and fading Canadian band who so owned the late 90s. If this was indeed the case (and in retrospect I don't really think that it is), it's only really apparent on that one song. And yes, Darnielle is allowed to delve into subject matter that other people have tackled before in his own way; if musicians were required to come up with a completely original topic to write a song on every time, that would just be unmanageable.
On the whole, it's a very quiet, spare work, reminiscent of 2006's Get Lonely. To be honest, I much prefer the more "boisterous" Goats songs, and if you're craving that, you're not going to find much of it here. However, "Psalms 40:2" is a real barn-burner that will appease those folks who tend to shy away from much of the quieter stuff. The vast majority of the album embodies a sort of understated desperate darkness, dealing with some heavy material such as the death of his mother-in-law in "Matthew 25:21," which is absolutely devastating.
Did I like Heretic Pride better? Most definitely.
Is this a good album in its own right? Yes. Comparing the two is apples and oranges.
