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page updated 2 Feb 10 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * NOTE: Older links may not always work, as promotional MP3s in particular are known to disappear without warning. THIS WEEK'S FINDS January 26, 2010 "London, My Town" - The Fine Arts Showcase The hand claps you hear at the outset of "London, My Town" aren't just an intermittent percussive accent or atmospheric frill; they're here for the duration of the song, soon acquiring a riveting sort of desperation about them. Hand claps are usually smile-inducing but these ones, not so much; whether organic or artificial, they have the sound of palms being driven together with an almost violent tenacity. That they do so underneath a most graceful melody adds to their disconcerting vigor. Neither for that matter does front man Gustaf Kjellvander, with his crooner's baritone, have the kind of voice you expect to hear happy-claps behind. And so check out how the song's second section arrives, at 0:35, and immediately something feels like a clearing or a release. Yup: it's because the hand claps have stopped for the moment. "And I've given up on truth," Kjellvander sings at this point, accompanied by a pensive slide guitar line. "'Cause I'm running out of youth." Aren't we all. And then the unyielding hand claps return. The song has something to do with Kjellvander's moving back to Malmö from London after his relationship (the "Hanna" mentioned at the song's abrupt end) has broken up; the entire album, Dolophine Smile, in fact, offers an unsparing look at the crumbling relationship. Set to graceful melodies. The album, the Swedish quartet's fifth, was released back in April 2009 on Malmö-based Adrian Recordings. "London, My Town" has just been made available as a free and legal MP3 via Adrian, in advance of the Fine Arts Showcase's imminent German tour. "On Giving Up" - High Places While beat-oriented songs usually puzzle me (okay: bore me) more than engage me, "On Giving Up" offers some extra hand-holds of interest and allure that make it more, to my ears, than just another manipulated groove of a song. Let's start with the beat itself, in which a blend of distinct sounds become difficult to pry apart aurally, and create, together, something larger than themselves. You can hear it at the very beginning: there's the deeper, thumpier part; there's something of an electronic tom-tom sound closely aligned with the thumpier sound (but note how the tom misses the third beat, playing only 1-2-x-4, which helps give the song its late-night swing); and then there's this distinct, higher-pitched sound, almost like an electronic wooden drum, delivering, off the beat, what feels like the song's central rhythm. And, phew, look: all these words to describe something happening nearly below conscious awareness and before the song even really starts. Maybe that's why I usually steer clear of this stuff. So anyway then comes that reverberant synth melody (0:09) and slinky bass line (0:17) and, lastly, Mary Pearson's floaty, echoey, Beth Gibbons-y voice, equal parts burn and withdrawal. Partly I suspect this needs to be heard at ear-vibrating volume on a foggy and mysteriously lit dance floor while surrounded by blissed-out, slightly sweaty strangers. If you get there let me know how it is. "On Giving Up" is from this Brooklyn-based duo's second album, High Places vs. Mankind, set for release in early April on Thrill Jockey Records. MP3 via Pitchfork. "Numbers Don't Lie" - the Mynabirds A simple stuttering stomp of a keyboard vamp lies at the center of this nifty piece of neo-retro-gospel-pop (or some such thing; hey, I make this up as I go). While there are clearly a lot of nods to bygone times in the aural landscape of "Numbers Don't Lie," what charms me the most is the subtle but sure sense of currency that likewise defines this song. It is a song that belongs here in 2010 (numbers don't lie, after all), and I think what gives me that impression has to do with clarity of presentation. From the plainly articulated keyboard notes to Laura Burhenn's double-tracked vocals to the instantly enticing melody (note the hook-y chord change comes right in the second measure), all the pieces of the song ring with presence, with a "thereness" that separates a song that transcends its influences from a song that is smothered by them. (And, okay, those telephone-button blips in the bridge are a fun present-day touch too.) Another point of clarity involves the song's use of reverb, which is effective in its restraint. While the choral-like backing vocals get a reverb rinse, and the rhythm section also maybe a dose of it, Burhenn keeps her lead vocals clean. It makes an understated but incisive difference in the overall sound, and even though reverb is popular in present-day indie rock, this song's judicious use of it makes it seem more real, more its own new thing as a result. Laura Burhenn is known to some as half of the D.C. duo Georgie James, which played together for three years and released one album on Saddle Creek Records before breaking up in 2008. "Numbers Don't Lie" is the first song made available from What We Lose In The Fire We Gain In The Flood, her first release as the Mynabirds, slated for an April release on Saddle Creek. Burhenn by the way named her project after the Mynah Birds, a Canadian R&B band in the '60s that signed to Motown but never released any albums and at one point, impossibly enough, featured both Neil Young and Rick James in its lineup. MP3 via Saddle Creek. THIS WEEK'S FINDS January 20, 2010 "Tough Love" - Regrets & Brunettes "Tough Love" does so much so effortlessly in its first 15 seconds that a casual listener may not hear much more than an intriguing mood. But check it out: first the brisk minor key guitar strum, at once mellow and urgent; then the slightly dissonant second guitar line (harsher and crunchier but also somewhat distant); then--out of left field but instantly perfect--the wistful, Bacharachesque horn motif (and that could be a keyboard sounding like a horn, but no matter). It's an extraordinarily compact introduction; Richard Bivens begins singing, with the compellingly blasé tone of any number of great rock'n'roll singers--at 0:16. Better believe I'm listening. The opening's terrific atmosphere sustains. This is one of those unusual pop songs in which the chorus is less catchy than the other elements, and truly this seems part of the plan--as Bivens repeats "I can't shake it," I can just about feel the physical gesture suggested and it's not supposed to be entirely pleasant. Everything works together here; in fact, I'm half convinced one reason the music withdraws a bit in the chorus is to give us a chance to ponder the curious lyric Bivens left us hanging with: "You used to take off your clothes/You used to curl up your toes with me." "Tough Love" is as song off the L.A.-based band's debut album, At Night You Love Me, which was self-released last month. "By and By" - Lay Low Doing musical business as Lay Low, Icelandic singer/songwriter Lovísa Elísabet Sigrúnardóttir combines a genuine feel for--of all things--classic country and western with the ability, consistently shared by musicians in her home country, to tap into something marvelous and otherworldly. On the surface, yes, the song is an upbeat, twangy little thing, but me, I am for some reason paying extra attention to how Lovísa meanders away from the regimen of the sprightly beat that appears at first to define the song. In the verses, only the first two words of each line are firmly on the beat; by the end of the verse, she willfully ignores the momentum of the song, her voice all but purring with an unusual blend of intimacy and puckishness. The chorus, meanwhile, sounds like a return to alignment (0:59) but for the life of me even when the melody appears to be in lockstep with the beat I swear she sounds like she's laying off ever so slightly. And then soon enough (1:04) she lets it go entirely. Listen to how she manages the transition between the words "before" and "I"; I cannot describe it. And behind her it's all just perky country playing, as if nothing is awry, as if it's maybe just a big guy in a cowboy hat who's on stage and we're group-imagining this (marvelous, otherworldly) Nordic visitation. "By and By" will be found on Lay Low's second album, Farewell Good Night's Sleep, due out in March on Lovísa's own Loo label. "Starting" - Matt Pond PA [not a direct link] All these years and personnel changes later and Matt Pond PA, founded in 1998, still holds it own on the strength of its front man's voices--both his singing voice and his writing voice, that is, each of which is indelible. Vocally, Pond trades on a pensive graininess of tone and an elusive range that gives him the sound of neither--or both--a baritone and a tenor. Once you've heard his singing voice it is thereafter unmistakable, which is a splendid, if probably random, characteristic. And yet his true strength is the means by which he gives himself something to sing: the staunch, well-crafted songs that he writes, full of concrete words to draw us in (dead bolts, gasoline, hips, knees), parallel structures (i.e. lyrical lines that share a certain construction) to display offhand authority, inaudible lyrics to make us listen harder next time, and bright turns of melody that in fact make us want to listen any number of other times. I especially like how, in a largely inscrutable song, he manages to slip in a conclusion as pithy and suasive as: "Make no mistake/There's no love/When the words are gone." Matt Pond PA was one of the first bands whose sound and depth impressed me as Fingertips was first getting going back in the '03-'04 time frame, and indeed became one of the first 21st-century indie bands to hit some semblance of the big time via exposure on broadcast TV soundtracks. But the '00s showed us that there is indeed a fine line between up-and-coming and down-and-going. I feel sorry for quality bands stuck navigating their careers through a fickle and fragmented culture that hews to a shallow and imaginary view of good and bad, but I am happy that Matt Pond and company persevere. "Starting" will appear on the album The Dark Leaves, the band's eighth full-length, slated for an April release on Altitude Records. MP3 via Paste Magazine. Note that this is not a direct link; click on the song title here and you will be taken to a page from which you can then download the song. THIS WEEK'S FINDS January 13, 2010 "Empty-Hall Sing-Along" - Woodpigeon A multifaceted musical adventure awaits you here. What begins as a sort of spacey, choral Fleetwood Mac-ish strummer takes a left turn at 1:37 and reinvents itself as a western hoedown a la Poco or Pure Prairie League (reference for those of a certain age). Front man Mark Hamilton clearly likes to surround himself with musicians--Woodpigeon is a shape-shifting ensemble featuring eight semi-regulars and a dozen and a half potential guests--but here their presence is as much vocal as instrumental. If you listen carefully, you'll discern more than the usual number of guitar and percussion sounds, yes, but what ultimately dominates the song are an unexpectedly large chorus of voices. Five of the central eight are listed as singers and while there's no telling who exactly is singing what, what I'm liking a lot is the vibe of a group of singers singing together, which creates an entirely different feel than multi-tracked harmonies. This is a "sing-along," after all. Woodpigeon is based in Calgary and issued its debut album in 2006. I don't think I can stop myself from telling you that Hamilton called his first band Woodpigeon Divided By Antelope Equals Squirrel. That was while he was living in Scotland and it didn't apparently amount to much. "Empty-Hall Sing-Along" comes from Die Stadt Musikanten, Woodpigeon's third album, released this week in Canada on Boompa Records; the American release will be in March. MP3 via Boompa. "Icarus" - White Hinterland Arriving on the indie scene in 2006 as a precocious, Nellie McKay-ish singer/songwriter/pianist, Casey Dienel has since taken on a band name (White Hinterland), a band mate (Shawn Creeden), and a new musical setting. I for one am happy to hear it, as I believe the world can use propulsive, mysterious-sounding, beat-driven but melodic electro-pop a bit more than it needs a second Nellie McKay. Underscored by swooshing wind-like white noise, "Icarus" has a slinky sound that gains traction via the interplay between Dienel's airy, plaintive singing style and the clattering rhythm sticks that are placed front and center in the mix. They are unavoidable there, and are thus transformed from percussive accent into full-fledged musical statement, particularly when Dienel sings the wordless refrain of "oo-oo-oohs" that functions as a chorus-like link between verses. Check out how the clacking rhythm stutters and syncopates along the way, just enough to keep your head in the game, to keep the song from fading into over-smoothness. Time passes much more quickly because the ears aren't being lulled to sleep; every time I get to the end--at 3:47, the song is not notably short--I feel a little startled. Born and raised in the Boston area, Dienel studied classical voice and composition at the New England Conservatory of Music before leaving to have a go as a pop musician. She is now located in Portland, Oregon. "Icarus" will be found on White Hinterland's second album, Kairos, which is due out in March on Dead Oceans. MP3 via Dead Oceans. "Pearl and Oyster" - Sangre Degrado "Pearl and Oyster" has the casual aplomb of some forgotten nugget of early '70s rock goodness. And it's not so much that this California trio sounds precisely like this or that long-ago band as much as that they don't especially sound like anything I'm hearing out of my trusty desktop speakers these days. Lead singer and guitarist Dan Chejoka has a chesty baritone with an elastic range, not to mention an engaging falsetto; behind him, his twin brother Nart, on drums, and their good friend Greg Johnson, on everything else, romp with determination and spirit through this sleeper of a song that has gotten about zero attention to date from the fickle and trend-obsessed blogosphere. And pretty much everything you need to know about this one you can hear even before Chejoka opens his mouth, in the brisk and yearning introduction with its rubbery, soaring guitar line. That's the sound of people not just looking to fill up space before the lyrics start, it's the sound of a band with a story to tell that transcends words (which is what good music, even if it has words, should ideally do). The easy way the song unfolds from there--the elaborate melodies in both chorus and verse and the effective instrumental building blocks in between--is both delightful and matter of fact. Listen in particular to how the dramatic, falsetto-charged chorus builds to an emotional--but, interestingly, not a musical--resolution. I don't think that's easy to do. "Pearl and Oyster" is from a debut album with a great title, The Nerve of That Ending, which the band self-released in October. MP3 via the band's site, where the entire album is in fact available for free. THIS WEEK'S FINDS January 6, 2010 "Thank God The Year Is Finally Over" - Paper Route A bracing blend of majesty and wistfulness, from its direct and poignant title straight through to an unexpected appearance by a harmonica in the outro. (The harmonica is surely one of music's most wistful instruments.) There's enough fuzz and noise along the way for shoegaze fans to appreciate but not enough to overwhelm the song's simple but effective melody (note how the long descending line of the chorus sounds nicely late-December-ish), not to mention the octave harmonies in the vocals. (I love me my octave harmonies--that is, when the harmony vocal is the same note but one octave higher or lower.) This band surely aims for a big-hearted sound, and yet more than ever, it seems, there's a fine line between a band with big heart and a band with a shallow heart. Somehow. The fact that these guys are touring with the curiously popular Owl City doesn't help the "big heart" case but listening with my ears (a good practice), I find something splendid in this smartly-paced piece of expansive, electronic-tinged rock. And that harmonica surprises every time. Paper Route is a quartet from Nashville; their debut full-length CD, Absence, was released on Universal Records in April 2009. "Thank God The Year Is Finally Over" is from a free Christmas EP the band released in December. MP3 via Spinner. (The entire EP is available as a zip file here.) "Vendela Vida" - Dinosaur Feathers Ramshackle, pseudo-Latin indie pop that may engage your ear and spirit in a way that Vampire Weekend didn't manage to (if, that is, you happen to be among those whose ears and/or spirits were not, in fact, engaged thereby; I know some of you are out there). The music by this Brooklyn-based trio has an amiable, second-nature feel to it, while singer/guitarist Greg Sullo possesses a marvelous rock'n'roll tenor, at once lazy and insistent. He sounds like a guy who doesn't sweat the details and yet for whom the details seem to work out pretty well most of the time. Vendela Vida--and isn't her name fabulously easy to say?--is a writer, and wife of the perhaps more well-known writer Dave Eggers. Not sure how the song relates--Sullo does manage to rhyme "Vida" and "read her"--but she was born to be a lyric, among her other accomplishments. You'll find the song on the band's debut album, Fantasy Memorial, which is scheduled for self-release in March. MP3 via Magnet. Oh and as another sign of these guys' musical aptitude, check out the cool mixtape they made in conjunction with an interview on the Music is Art blog last summer, which connects the Kinks to Harry Belafonte to NWA to Genesis and more. "Hotel Lights" - Amy Cook And here's a real new year's treat--a song as good as anything you're likely to hear over the coming 12 months. On the one hand, it's a quiet bit of singer/songwriter fare; on the other hand, oh my, what an exquisite tune. Cook plays an electric guitar here--the old-fashioned kind, with f-holes--not an acoustic one, and its rich, rounded tones lend an immediate depth to the song, and nicely complements her ever-so-slightly-dusky voice. But it's sheer songwriting prowess that makes this one shine. Cook, based in Austin, works wonders in particular with asymmetricality. Listen, first of all, to the melody line at the beginning of the verse (0:12), and how those three words ("All the girls") are set apart, separated by a measure and a half from the rest of the line, which then streams out without a break through the lyric's end. There's great power in that quiet lack of regularity, and Cook uses it again, in a different way, at the opposite end of the structure. After the first two lines of the chorus, in which her words emerge in two-syllable clusters at the beginning of each measure, she proceeds to extend the second line four extra measures, partially mirroring the two-syllable clustering but now filling in the empty spaces with an uneven but luscious melody. Much more delightful to listen to than to read about. "Hotel Lights" is from Cook's album Let The Light In, produced by Alejandro Escovedo and slated for an early March release. This appears to be her third album but details are sketchy. Thanks to Bruce at Some Velvet Blog for the head's up. THIS WEEK'S FINDS December 16, 2009 "Walls" - Shout Out Louds Musically astute and thematically cohesive, "Walls" features an odd, almost discomfiting build-up. First, we get front man Adam Olenius singing over stark bass and drums accompaniment, the melody hard to discern. (I suggest paying attention to that bass note--a D, I believe--because it is not going away for a while.) After the sparse, foreboding opening verse, a piano riff arrives to mix things up a bit but listen to how the bass note persists, and keeps the ear from sensing any resolution. The full band kicks in with a second verse, followed by the piano riff again, and then a third verse, and all the while, sure enough, the bass pounds that one same note. If you're feeling a bit claustrophobic by now that's why. Because of the intervening piano riff we may not quite realize we haven't heard a chorus yet, but here we are, two minutes into the song, and nope, we haven't. It feels as if the song has stayed in one chord this whole time. Then, at 2:15, we are released: the chorus arrives, almost transcendently, using the piano riff melody but now set free from the one-note bass anchor. The forcefully sung lyrics seem especially consequential in this setting, and we hear them now three times running because there are no more verses left. By 3:15, the song is done and it's like we don't really know what hit us. But it was good. Shout Out Louds are a quintet from Sweden; "Walls" will be found on the album Work, their third, due out on Merge Records in February. MP3 via Merge. "My Cosmonaut" - Emily Neveu Not many lo-fi, reverb-drenched songs sneak through the Fingertips filter (certainly not as many as are out there) but this one struck my ears as a keeper, for at least a couple of reasons. To begin with, there's that appealing acoustic guitar riff in the introduction--appealing because it moves musically (many lesser songs will use an acoustic guitar as a kind of place-keeper, via monotonous strums) and because the chords themselves are refreshing (i.e. not just basic chords, but inversions, which are played higher up the neck). Second, there's Neveu's cloud-like voice and the layered way she's recorded it; such soft tones she sings with, but that doesn't keep her from experimenting with some intriguing harmonic intervals. Third and maybe best of all, this is one sturdy melody, from the ancient undertones of the folk-like verse to the distilled beauty of a chorus that hinges, poignantly, on a suspended chord. The 26-year-old, Berkeley-based Neveu has played in the bands Calico Horse, Clock Work Army, and Indian Moon. She is currently preparing a solo album, on which "My Cosmonaut" is slated to appear. She offers a nice assortment of free and legal MP3s--both her unreleased solo stuff and band songs--on her web site. And Radiohead fans may also want to check out her charming, front-porch cover of "Idioteque," via Lefse Records. When it emerges, the solo album will be out on Lefse. "Resilient Bastard" - ShellShag Come to think of it, not a lot of rough-hewn DIY stuff ends up here either. I've never been personally into the anarchic posturing of old-school punks, nor the fetishistic preference for noise over musicality. But every now and then I stumble upon something from that world that reminds me that a certain number of punksters are popsters at heart, and that, when used in symbiotic tandem, punk and pop can offer a uniquely satisfying experience. And I'm not talking about what has been labeled "punk pop" on the commercial side of things. I'm talking about something like "Resilient Bastard," with its squonky guitar work, unschooled but determined vocals, sly sense of humor both lyrically and musically (sleigh bells? really?), and, best of all, its spirited hook, which depends equally on the words and music. No way that chorus kills the way it does if the singer leads with a line other than "I don't care/I'm a resilient bastard." Johnny "Shellhead" and Jen Shag (Shell, Shag, you see), although from different places--he, Missouri; she, New Jersey--are both rooted musically in the '90s DIY scene in San Francisco, and began playing together in 1999, first in the trio Kung Fu USA. ShellShag emerged from that experience. "Resilient Bastard" will be found on the album Rumors In Disguise, ShellShag's second full-length, scheduled for release in February on Don Giovanni Records. THIS WEEK'S FINDS December 8, 2009 "Castaways" - Shearwater With his monumental voice, and taste for monumental subject matter, Jonathan Meiburg creates music with the sad grandeur of ruined palaces or Russian novels. But take your ear off Shearwater's front man for a moment, if you can, and check out what else is happening here, or not happening. The rumbly drama you're listening to is all about the vigorous rhythm section, which seems to have changed places with the rest of the band: the pounding drums and agile bass line are front and center, they're what Meiburg is singing with, they're what forms the musical center of the song, while guitar and keyboard play with care and tenderness around the edges. Yes, you'll hear the guitar and keys in the introduction, daintily, but once the drums kick in at 0:35, "Castaways" swings with its rhythm section's portentous rumble. I may be imagining it, but I feel as if I am more often hearing the guitarist's fingers moving on the strings than I am hearing the guitar itself. This is the type of tender detail that helps give the song its poignant depth, above and beyond its more obviously dramatic ambiance. "Castaways" is the first available song from the band's forthcoming album, The Golden Archipelago, slated for a February release on Matador Records. Note that Shearwater, from Austin, is a band that still very much believes in the album format. The CD will come with a 50-page booklet, and the vinyl LP is slightly reordered, with two additional songs, allowing for the difference in listening experiences. Note too that Shearwater has twice previously been featured on Fingertips: in March 2008 and May 2005. MP3 via Pitchfork. "Struck Dumb" - the Futureheads The 21st century has not been lacking in New Wave revival bands, with their metallic guitars, punchy rhythms, and clipped British-sounding vocals (whether actually British or not). When bands fall flat in the effort it's when they get the sound right but forget to give us a worthy song in the process. So-called angularity is a notably two-dimensional quality. The ear needs more to feel satisfied. The Futureheads, a Sunderland (UK) quartet with three albums now under their belt, have a couple of extra things going here. First, to their spiky neo-New Wave sound they bring an intriguing outside element: walls of harmony. It's an attractive addition to my ears, a kind of Devo-meets-Queen vibe that works unexpectedly well. Second, the song moves musically in a way a lot of similar-sounding songs--some by the Futureheads themselves, I might add--do not. Yes, that Jam-like introduction is fun and effective, but it succeeds, to my ears, precisely because the song isn't content to stay put. Sometimes this can be a simple matter of finding the right chord at the right time. The first place I hear the song open up is at 0:31, on the line "Stop living in the clouds"--it's subtle, but the chord they move through there has a wonderful theatricality to it, and it foreshadows what we'll hear in the chorus moments later. Listen in particular to the line "Negativity is controlling your dreams," beginning at 0:44, and how the chorus takes a left turn from there. We remain on the one hand within the tight sonic world of the neo-New Wave and yet also we've been launched out of it. Everything still wraps up in under three minutes, which is another triumphant gesture. "Struck Dumb" is from the Futureheads' upcoming album, as yet without a title or a release date, although some time in 2010 is a safe bet. MP3 via Spinner. "Hand of God" - Jason Boesel Loping, good-natured Americana from the voice and sticks of one of the indie scene's busiest drummers. While the casual beat, agreeable steel guitar licks, and gang-style harmonies (i.e. no harmony) in the chorus imply a lightweight yarn, there's a bit more here than might initially meet the ear. I suspect, in fact, distraction is part of the design, and that it's precisely because the words so easily roll off Boesel's friendly, reverbed voice--think Nashville Skyline Dylan crossed with Ron Sexsmith--that you don't readily notice how he's messing with you. But he's doing just that, largely via the time-honored songwriting trick of changing one or two key words in lines that, repeating, otherwise appear the same. In the chorus, for instance, he first is "recovering," while "remembering" is hard; on the repeat, he is "remembering," and it's "recovering" that's hard. Or, in the first verse, he goes up the stairs and doesn't know why, while in the last verse he goes down the stairs and now he knows why. (And we do too, if we're paying attention.) Also, he first hears laughing in the dark, which he realizes "could" have been him; later he hears screaming in the dark, which he admits "had" to be him. And then this subtle, trickily told story of love gone bad climaxes with an offhand lyrical gem: "I thought I was a secret/But I was too easy to keep." A song this carefully crafted always rewards repeat listens. Boesel is drummer for Rilo Kiley, and has also sat at the kit for Bright Eyes, the Elected, and Conor Oberst, among others. "Hand of God" is from his debut solo album, Hustler's Son, slated for release next month on Team Love. MP3 via Team Love. THIS WEEK'S FINDS December 1, 2009 "Good Boys" - the Minor Leagues Exuberant, horn-laced pop, performing that endearing trick of sounding more slapdash than it actually is. I think drummer John Kathman, brandishing a combination of full-out bashing and asymmetrical fills, has a lot to do with this. The horns, too, carry with them the sound of a band a half step away from flying apart, maybe just from the inherent imprecision of brass instruments, which must create multiple octaves of notes from (typically) three valves. On a guitar or a keyboard, each note is precise and unique. On trumpets, less so. This occurs to me as important all of a sudden. And then, in the middle of this burstingly happy-sounding song comes a philosophical interlude we may not be quite prepared for, as singer Ben Walpole wonders, "Jesus, why did you give me a conscience/If I can't use it to influence my actions?/And Jesus, why do I have to know wrong from right/When the knowledge never ever beats out passion?" Um, hmm--can we get back to you on that? In the meantime, what happened to the trumpets? The guitars have taken over, along with the existential crisis. Drummer Kathman is still bashing away, however. The Minor Leagues, from Cincinnati, have grown to seven pieces from the quartet they were when last featured here in 2006. I like how each band member, in the bio material on the Datawaslost site, places him- or herself in an exact year with a particular band, to illustrate with unusual clarity the sound each feels most connected to. "Good Boys" comes from This Story Is Old, I Know, But It Goes On, released in November via Datawaslost, which is both a musical collective and a record label. MP3 via Datawaslost. "Sunrise" - Soulsavers I'll admit I have something of a mental block against music that emerges from so-called production and remix teams. Maybe it's because I dislike remixes with such a pointless passion. But that's just me and my bias towards song--I find music that's so blatantly constructed (and re-constructed) to be odd and artificial at its core. And yet, here are Soulsavers, a production and remix duo from England, and I like this one quite a lot. Then again, this is not just a laptop creation. "Sunrise" began life as a real song--it was written by Mark Lanegan and was first heard back on his 1994 album Whiskey For The Holy Ghost--and in this incarnation features new performances by, among others, Will Oldham, who does the singing here. (Lanegan, it should be noted, has been Soulsavers' chief vocalist for the past two albums--2007's It's Not How Far You Fall, It's the Way You Land, and this year's Broken.) In Soulsavers' hands, "Sunrise" has become atmospheric in a gratifyingly swampy sort of way--we get a piano vamp, washes of cymbals, and a dirty-sounding harmonica, all rinsed through with reverb. And front and center we get Oldham singing with more rough-edged gravitas than he gives us in his more fragile Bonnie "Prince" Billy mode. He seems in fact to be doing an homage to Lanegan; this version of "Sunrise" sounds almost more Lanegan-y than the original, somehow, with its dark echoey groove and that killer harmonica, which replaces the sax heard in the original, to great effect. Broken was released back in August, without a lot of fanfare, on Columbia. (Note how even now the big labels don't know how to promote off-kilter projects.) "Sunrise" is actually a non-album single, released just prior to the CD. "Wide-Eyed, Legless" - Laura Veirs Long-time Fingertips favorite Laura Veirs has a plainspoken presence, a gift for evocative lyrics, and the capacity to weave magical melodies into unassuming songs. "Wide-Eyed, Legless"--and that's quite a title, eh?--begins with a plucky, fairy-tale sort of ambiance, its sing-song-y verse rooted in an ancient, semi-pentatonic refrain (mostly but not all black notes) and set against gull-like synthesizer lines. And that would just about be cool enough, but then comes the chorus and one of those brilliant little melodies of hers. "Will you ever more tie up my hair with velvet bows?" she sings (0:50), delivering, in the midst of that bouncy, spiky tune a moment of poignant melodic resolution. Complete with that old-fashioned wording, it's quite lovely, but she doesn't dwell on it; even as the melody repeats for a second line in the chorus it changes a bit, and ends without the resolution, plunking us back into the "hornet rain" both lyrically and musically. Something, certainly, is going on here, having something to do with ships and storms and lost love, perhaps, but I can't really be sure, and that mystery is part of the song's quirky allure. "Wide-Eyed, Legless" will be found on the album July Flame, Veirs' seventh, scheduled for release in January on her Raven Marching Band label. MP3 via her site. THIS WEEK'S FINDS November 24, 2009 It's Thanksgiving in the U.S. this week, and so "This Week's Finds" is taking a holiday. Not to leave you empty-handed, here are five current free and legal MP3s that are available from artists previously featured on Fingertips, minus lengthy reviews. Princeton was just featured last week so I will not likely feature them again quite so quickly, but any of the others may yet get a full-fledged review here, once I listen in more detail and see what my ears make of each of them. Wishing a Happy Thanksgiving to all those who celebrate, and a cheerful week to one and all in any case. It's up to us, really; the world is certainly not cooperating in terms of putting a smile on our faces. Maybe that's not its job. * "Korean War Memorial" - Princeton These guys were featured just last week; here's another song from their Cocoon of Love album. MP3 via NME. * "Good Boys" - the Minor Leagues The Minor Leagues are a seven-piece band from Cincinnati; their song "Scene It All Before" was featured here in June 2006. "Good Boys" is one of two free and legal MP3s available from the band's new album, This Story Is Old, I Know, But It Goes On, released this month via the Datawaslost collective. * "Wide-Eyed, Legless" - Laura Veirs Laura Veirs has returned to the land of free and legal MP3s after a few years at sea on Nonesuch (a fine label, but anti-free-and-legal). This song comes from her forthcoming album July Flame, to be released on her own label. She was featured here back in 2004. MP3 via her site. * "Hundred/Million" - the Whigs The Whigs, from Athens, Georgia, are one of those bands that hit it indie-big with a song, from their second album, that didn't strike me nearly as well as the stuff they put on their first album, when they were featured here (October 2006). Could've just been me, of course. In any case, now comes the third album, and we'll see which way they go from here. MP3 via Magnet. * "The Ballad of Cherry Hill" - Steve Goldberg & the Arch Enemies Goldberg heads up a Pittsburgh-area ensemble with a big-hearted sound. His first album was recorded as as senior project while he was at Carnegie Mellon University; a song from it was featured here in September 2007. This song comes from a forthcoming EP. MP3 via his site. THIS WEEK'S FINDS November 17, 2009 "Salvation" - Scanners The London-based foursome Scanners make a kind of music once all too common and now all too rare: smartly-produced, aurally interesting, musically astute rock'n'roll. This is music that isn't trying to be fancy, or arcane, or difficult; and yet neither is it simple-minded in sound or concept. Now, I said that this sort of smartly produced (etc.) rock used to be pretty common, which leaves us with the interesting reality that we are not, in 2009, used to hearing music like this in songs that we don't already know. (Such a dispiriting genre, "classic rock"--sealed off by definition from the living, breathing world.) Kind of an odd truth, and one which makes a song like "Salvation" all the more appealing. I like, right at the start, how the song offers depth and drama with such sparse instrumentation: until 55 seconds in, we hear precious little but an itchy acoustic guitar lick and some distant chimes, joined for a bit by a quiet keyboard motif. The atmosphere is fostered by the minor key melody and those resonant backing vocals, which are echoey and mixed in such a way as to sound as if the voices were shouting but the volume was turned way down. It's a foreboding effect. Keep an ear on the harmonies throughout--they remain central, and get increasingly interesting. And for all the sonic theatrics, discipline rules the day. You don't hear too many rockers that will dial back halfway into a song (1:19) so that you can only hear, for three seconds, one repeated note on an acoustic guitar. "Salvation" is from the band's forthcoming album, Submarine, scheduled for a February release on Dim Mak Records. The band was previously featured here in Aug '06, around the time of the first album, Violence is Golden. MP3 via Better Propaganda. "Sadie and Andy" - Princeton From its faux classical intro to its jaunty doo-wop melody and deadpan storytelling, "Sadie and Andy" is all craft and artifice. And pretty much irresistible. "I stock the milk and all the eggs there," Andy sings, catching Sadie up on his daily doings in the grocery store, "And all the herbal tea." Sadie is radically uninterested. It's been ten years. "I haven't thought of you at all," she says. "And I don't wish to know." It's the standard boy-meets-girl, boy-loses-girl, boy's-love-grows-with-loss, girl-could-care-less story, and it's found its musical apotheosis in this cheerful-wistful piece of precisely orchestrated pop, with its swirling strings, diligent trumpet, elusive oboe, and martial snare. That it's much ado about nothing--did she mention she hasn't thought of him at all?--is part of the thematic point. Matt Kivel's Andy sings with great nasal earnestness, a wannabe crooner with neither quite the voice nor the charisma to pull it off. Guest vocalist Meredith Metcalf, for her part, is a breathy ice queen, a Sadie not in any obvious way worthy of Andy's obsession, but that's always the underlying irony of this story. Princeton is a quartet from L.A. featuring the twins Jesse and Matt Kivel. (The name comes from the street they grew up on street in Santa Monica.) "Sadie and Andy" is the lead track on the band's debut album, Cocoon of Love, released in late September on Brooklyn-based Kanine Records. [FS] "Careful What You Say" - Class Actress Given the synthesizer's inherently goofy sound--the rubbery beeps and boops, the cartoonish echoes, and so forth--it's a bit surprising, now that I think about it, that the instrument isn't more jovially presented as a rule. Indeed, the synthesizer is offered up rather humorlessly in rock music by and large, far more often used with austerity or gravity than with a sense of humor, even when--or maybe especially when--propelling dance music of one kind or another. Not so with "Careful What You Say." From the opening noodles, the synthesizer tones are charged with something resembling mirth, if not flippancy. After the song settles into a seductive electro-groove--no organic instruments in sight--something else now goes against the electro-pop guidebook, which is front woman Elizabeth Harper's singing. Rather than float above with requisite frosty archness, a match for the cold equipment around her, Harper pretty much purrs her way through this one. Whether down in the rich tone of her lower register for the verse or in the airier range of the chorus, Harper sings as if maintaining a wry, secret smile throughout, regardless of the emotional wreckage traced by the lyrics. As for that exquisitely breezy chorus, I like it all the more for how it is fitted into a song that refuses simply to be about its groove--and refuses, in the process, to take itself too seriously. (If you have any doubts about that latter point, check out the instrumental break that begins at 3:17; and just wait for it.) Class Actress began as a solo project for Harper, but has become a full-fledged band. On the MySpace page, Harper is listed as "Songwriter," Mark Richardson as "Beatmaker," and Scott Rosenthal as "Heartbreaker." "Careful What You Say" is a song from the trio's debut EP, Journal of Ardency, slated for a February release on Terrible Records. MP3 via Pitchfork. THIS WEEK'S FINDS November 10, 2009 "Johanna" - Think About Life So this may be about the best thing I've heard all year. How sharp and sleek and funky; how multileveled and well-crafted and exuberant; what deeply gratifying fun. The basic groove alone is impressive, established at the outset by some brilliant horn charts, with their stuttery swing and that softly dissonant chord they settle on at the end of each phrase. But "Johanna" has so much more going for it than the basic groove, including an memorable melodic spine--the song just hangs on it so perfectly--and Martin Cesar's delightful, full-throated singing. When everything kind of caves in on itself momentarily, at 1:14, this isn't just a cute effect, it's spirited statement of purpose: this Montreal-based quartet can and will do anything they want with the sound they're creating. In an indirect way, Think About Life brings to mind Remain in Light-era Talking Heads--not because the sound is similar, but for this group's willingness and ability to simultaneously work with and deconstruct the funk. I have rarely heard a band manage to give off a kitchen-sink air of anything goes while at the same time writing and playing such tight, kick-ass music. This isn't just someone pushing a button to put this sound in here, then this sound here; as with Talking Heads before them, I get a strong sense of both brainy tinkering and physical exertion in the presence of this song. The crazy-awesome instrumental interlude at 2:26--30 seconds of time standing still right in the center of the groove--is not to be missed. "Johanna" is from the band's second album, Family, which was released in Canada in May and in the U.S. last month, on Alien8 Recordings. The MP3 was made available last week via Magnet. [FS] "Who Will" - Will Stratton Gorgeous and swaying, but with a deep-down sense of gravity. (Anyone remember the old Fleetwood Mac instrumental "Albatross"? This evokes that, pleasantly.) I like the sonic interplay between the crisply strummed acoustic guitar at the front of the mix and that big dark open space underneath--space created seemingly by just a lonesome-prairie guitar and Stratton's voice, each enhanced as they are by a steady, stately reverb. The acoustic guitar offers naked immediacy, the reverbed layers lend a shadowy, contemplative air. Somewhere in the middle someone is sitting at a piano and playing a few chords every so often, adding to the engaging three-dimensionality. Later we get female harmonies, violins, even a trumpet, all of which contribute further to the song's gentle dream. But this song has a haunting quality that seems to be larger than the sum of its parts. In a weird way it's as if the reverb itself, independent of what's reverb-ing (the drums get it too, and the trumpet, and the female backing singers), is a visceral part of the intimate yet spacious landscape, is itself somehow its own presence in the music. The 22-year-old Stratton recorded his first album, What the Night Said, the summer after he graduated from high school, and it was released two years later, in 2007. Two years further on, he's out the other side of college, and along comes his second album, No Wonder, released last week on Stunning Models on Display. MP3 via the record company. "In Perfect Time" - the Sun A fuzzy blast of melodic noise, "In Perfect Time" seems to want to be played really loud. As a matter of fact, it has a kind of sneaky effect going--the louder I turn it, the louder still I feel I need to hear it. This clearly has to do with how singer Chris Burney's voice is mixed down, but it's more than just that. Any number of other bands have done the mixed-down-vocals thing and it doesn't always have my hand reaching for the volume dial (okay, not a dial anymore, but whatever). So what else is going on here? Part of it has to do with the unerring melodicism on display. Songwriters with the talent to write this kind of strong, earnest pop melody--Matthew Sweet in his heyday had this kind of sound--typically give you the thing right out front. You don't have to fight for it. I turn the volume up here because I'm trying to put the melody where I'm used to hearing it. But, of course, turning the volume up only turns all the background wash louder also. And the noise is not at all unpleasant, mind you. It's bashy and tinny and crunchy. And when it gets louder, I need to turn the volume yet higher, again trying to raise the vocals to a more audible level. A losing battle in this case, especially since--strange but true--the wall of sound appears to get proportionally louder than the vocals as I increase the volume. Producer Mike McCarthy has some wacky magic going here, perhaps the after-effect of working with Spoon's studied minimalism for so many years (he's produced all their albums since 2001). The Sun is a band from Columbus, Ohio that did not name themselves with Google in mind. "In Perfect Time" is the closing track on the album Don't Let Your Baby Have All The Fun, released this week on Rock Proper. Rock Proper happens to be a so-called "netlabel," which means that its releases are entirely digital and entirely free. You can download all the songs from the album as free and legal downloads here. THIS WEEK'S FINDS November 4, 2009 "Hearts of Palm" - Ravens & Chimes Cheerful songs are usually vigorous things. Songs that seem hesitant, wavery, or otherwise introverted, on the other hand, tend to be at best wistful if not downright mournful. "Hearts of Palm" subverts the formula, and is all the more effective for it--a sprightly, hopeful-sounding song edged by an equivocal, somewhat trembling vibe. Some of this is due to the vocal qualities of Asher Lack, who sings like someone wading into cold water, at once timid and determined, while instruments chug forward around him. But listen and you'll hear how the music yet reinforces the partially timorous atmosphere: it's peppy, yes, but likewise stuttery, and lacking the oomph and crunch of a typical rock band. This isn't for lack of personnel. Ravens & Chimes is a six-person outfit, but the members are busier playing things like harmonium and flute and glockenspiel to bother with the din of standard-issue rock'n'roll. And so this is how we end up with this buoyant, reserved piece of pop and I for one am happier for having heard it. I especially love the agile, islandy flute lines and the beautiful, pure-toned female harmony vocal that blends and yet doesn't quite blend with Lack's quasi-speak-singing in the chorus. "Hearts of Palm" is a single from the band's forthcoming and as-yet untitled second album. Its first CD, Reichenbach Falls, came out in 2007. Prior to the album's release, this song is slated to be released soon as the a-side of a 7-inch single. MP3 via the band's site. "Unpredictable" - Tahiti 80 Carefree English-speaking French pop from a band doing it before it was a genre. There's something not only charming but truly satisfying about a song that works quite so well both for people who are barely paying attention and for people paying close attention. This is no small feat. For the first group, a jaunty, smoothly sung tune is all that's required. Great background music. The second group is trickier to please, as the music has to display a sort of depth that jaunty, smoothly sung tunes by their nature often lack. The depth here, for me, is rooted in the song's offhanded musicality. "Unpredictable" is full of interesting moments that whisper rather than shout as they unfold. Listen, for instance, to the very start: we hear a basic drumbeat that the ear expects to be established through four standard measures but instead--there for us to notice, or not--it's interrupted after three seconds, in the second measure, which grounds the song in a sort of percussive pre-introduction. Only after that comes the standard four-measure intro. Listen, as another example, to the subtle adjustments the melody makes in the verse and how seductively singer Xavier Boyle wraps his faintly textured tenor around them: the way the melody mimics the keyboard riff at 0:23; the slow then fast pacing in the phrase "knock me down" at 0:31; the way the verse line is shortened and turned on the unresolved phrase "on the wall" at 0:35; and that's just in the first verse. I give the band points, too, for an entirely different kind of craftiness--how the song title comes not from the chorus but from the verse. That's rare in a chipper number like this one; anyone seeking only the inattentive audience will place the title where it repeats most obviously. Bouncing along since 1993, Tahiti 80 is quartet from Rouen, France. "Unpredictable" is from the album Activity Center, the band's fourth, which has been out for a year in Europe; its U.S. release comes, at last, later this month. "Illuminated" - Múm The fact that Múm wrote the music to its most recent album in the middle of Iceland's economic meltdown and political upheaval adds poignancy to the already melancholy beauty of "Illuminated." Against a bed of mystical tinkling and mysterious vocal arpeggios, "Illuminated" doesn't so much start as float into being. The extended chord progression described by the angelic arpeggios becomes the framework of this soothing but enigmatic song. A minute passes before front man Gunnar Örn Tynes begins a lyrical exploration of the central chord progression, a 30-second vocal segment that we hear just twice, the second slightly altered from the first: in both cases, a dreamy, impressionistic account of a man falling off his bike, into the snow, and then melting the snow and drinking it. There is nothing to analyze here intellectually. The song floats into being and floats out of being. A man falls in the snow, illuminated. Voices sing wordlessly, unusual keyboards play, and a string quartet. Somewhere a country is falling apart. Somewhere else someone falls off a bicycle into the snow. You'll find "Illuminated" at the tail end of Múm's latest album, Sing Along to Songs You Don't Know, the band's fifth. MP3 via Better Propaganda. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
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