A music blog dedicated to my ever-expanding tastes. A musical journey with endless pitstops along the way. Bringing you the best of what I see and hear.
Landlady is back! The music project of singer/songwriter/saxophonist/jack of all tradesman Adam Schatz and his illustrious group of friends have announced their latest release, following up 2021's self-titled. A song cycle, according to Schatz, "The Car Alarm" and "The Shaky Hand", the lead singles from Landlady's forthcoming fifth full length album Make Up / Lost Time, hint at the seamlessness of the album. Growing around a simple minor arpeggio sequence, there's a sense of unease before Adam Schatz utters his first words: an equally unsettling repetitive series of "no's" before he tethers them into a narrative. "No cause for alarm, we bet the farm, we've phoned for a ride home". Schatz's songwriting has always flourished in the unexpected and "The Car Alarm" is no exception as a tale of getting lost on the road is elevated to a practically nail-biting experience. Musically, it oscillates between optimism and despair, hope and hopelessness, and crests with the sublime harmonies of Kristin Slipp and Star Busby. As "The Car Alarm" reaches a fever pitch with Schatz crooning "I don't fear the dark, I fear no one when you ride shotgun", the shuffle into "The Shaky Hand" could almost be missed.
If "The Car Alarm" built on a growing sense of anxiety, "The Shaky Hand" is its inverse, briskly moving with unfettered jubilation as Schatz and company's "Cancel all your plans" repeats with string flourishes from Macie Stewart and Lia Kohl. Considering how fluidly the tracks blend together, it's unsurprising Landlady opted to released them together. While they can be enjoyed separately, they're enjoyed simultaneously as Schatz "Belt it into the mirror again" and "Going to beat the traffic again" later in the track have you wondering if "The Shaky Hand" takes place in the same car as "The Car Alarm". It's not until Schatz's repeats "Beat ourselves to the promise land" that really buttons the songs' interconnectedness. Schatz's lyricism often pairs humor and poignancy and "The Shaky Hand" illustrates why. A sort of introvert anthem, when Schatz sings "Winning bid to leave before the party dies, we'd be wise to leave before the party dies", it's not hard to imagine the song's character trying to leave a party early. Is it about knowing the right time to leave? Or leaving when you're ready to go? "The Shaky Hand" leaves it open especially with lyrics like "Call it ancient intuition or a consolation prize, we'd be wise to leave before the party dies". It might also be about leaving a party early enough to avoid getting stuck in traffic. The jury is still out. It's a dazzling taste of what the 17 track song cycle has to offer and in the hands of Schatz and his multitudes of collaborators, it's likely just the beginning.
"The Car Alarm" and "The Shaky Hand" are the second and third tracks from Landlandy's upcoming album Make Up / Lost Time out June 6th. You can pre-order the album now on digital or tape/LP.
Whenever people ask me how I come across new music, my answer is usually a completely sincere "by paying attention". Since the days of MySpace, I realized that paying attention to what bands/artists you've already established you like are doing is a pretty revealing way to find music that, while it might not be that similar, usually scratches a similar itch that band's scratched. In the case of Brooklyn's Foyer Red, it was just a matter of realizing multi-instrumentalist Mitch Myers (whose work I had been familiar with since Hear Hums/Peace Arrow) had started another project. Foyer Red, a collaboration of Myers, Elana Riordan, and Marco Ocampo before ultimately adding Kristina Moore and Eric Jaso continues Myers' loud and proud tradition of creating music that's somewhat atypical. Foyer Red's debut EP Zigzag Wombat featured eclectic instrumentation (omnichord, clarinet), interesting production, and diverse influences.
"Etc", their first single as members of the Carpark Records roster, continues the band's style of intricately woven experimental pop. Beginning with a lilting kalimba intro that gets taken up by the bass, the vocals follows a similar pattern of being passed between members as Riordan's are underscored by Moore's harmonic response before ultimately giving way to Myers' own introduction.
A big part of Foyer Red's appeal lies in its juxtaposition of composition - complex, interweaving rhythms and melodies don't get in the way of the songs themselves being pretty damn catchy and downright memorable. The songs don't come across as being complicated for the sake of being complicated but the layering gives them an interesting texture that uplifts everything as a whole.
"Etc.", as it passes its spotlight from one member to another - Riordan's lighter vocals given room to describe, while Myers' more grounded vocals get more layers built around it. It's an apt songwriting choice - as Riordan offers more nature inclined lyrics and Myers' counters first with lyrics about concrete parking lots and car races and then electronic recalling ones.
In August 2020, Arizona rockers PRO TEENS called it quits. In their break-up announcement the band stressed the split was amicable but that they felt the band had run its course and while they had planned to release one more record, ultimately there would be no more new music. And then November of last year, the band uploaded an album pretty much without ceremony or explanation. "WE MADE AN ALBUM FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE AND IT'S THE BEST ONE YET" the band announced.
Dentistry, the band's posthumous release, might unsurprisingly be the best PRO TEENS album. One of the qualities that appealed to me most about PRO TEENS was their ability to exist in contrast. A sound that is equal parts retro and charmingly current, laid back and filled with blustering agita, Dentistry is a calmer follow up to their previously released Twos. Beginning with the aptly titled "(To The Tune Of An Electric) Toothbrush", which builds off the buzzing of an electric toothbrush before metamorphosing into a jangly pop rock jaunt, Dentistry is a veritable masterclass in guitar tone. Both front-person Andy Phipps' vocals and the band's guitars are incredibly versatile - offering a very dynamic sound that's an obvious peak for the band. Songs like "Mavs in 6" effortlessly switch to whole new sections without skipping a beat.
Album standout "Ode To Curse" shifts between lilting chamber pop and a barrelling rock scorcher. Dentistry feels the most narratively dense of all of PRO TEENS' oeuvre and "Ode To Curse" feels like a definitive songwriting flex for Phipps. Similarity to "Do Right Bayou" Phipps has an ability to sing about seemingly abstract concepts that suddenly coalesce into these moments of being known or yearning to be. "Overwrought with final thoughts, it's hard, sometimes we just need to fall apart but I can't help holding on" Phipps sings ahead of one of the track's big tempo shifts, plodding drums, glancing guitar strums, and an earthy bass clarinet underscore the moment. "Ode To Curse" is filled with these absolute gems of songwriting and composition eventually becoming an high speed locomotive as Phipps croons the song title over and over until everything comes to an exasperated fever pitch.
"Do Right Bayou" meanwhile is a slow burner, as Phipps realizes some wants and desires have no real grasp in reality. In a lot of ways Dentistry wrestles with twenty-something ennui but also realizes the role community/or anything external can have in defining the self. "Well I get caught up in what could've been, I'll spend a whole lifetime absolving sin, there's so many choices, what do you choose, if I could do one right I'd do right by you" Phipps concludes. In a song where Phipps ponders all the ways big and small that they could be different, in which their dreams align with actual reality, the main takeaway is that all that is ultimately needed is someone else.
A fan of PRO TEENS since fellow Arizona band AlhhlA recommended them to me around the release of their album Philistines, I am glad not only that PRO TEENS get to put a tidy bow on their time together but also that their final effort is such a perfect encapsulation of what makes them so worthwhile. If Dentistry truly is their final album, it sees PRO TEENS going out on an absolute high. Even more special because it's a record that wasn't supposed to even happen. Even if you've never heard PRO TEENS before, Dentistry is more than a nostalgia trip, it's a brilliant album in its own right.
When last we heard from Philadelphia experimental pop purveyors Son Step, they had offered up new ears, a 5 song collection of songs featuring collaborations from drummer Ben Sloan, and now they're releasing another collaboration with vocalist Sophie Coran in the form of "Mutual Assurance". Based on the idea of mutually assured destruction - the deterring strategy that the use of nuclear arms would result in the annihilation of all in an attack/counter-attack. Much like new ears "Hissing Sauna", "Mutual Assurance" plays on the anxiety of living in the modern era and turns it into a dance jam. Son Step write an apocalyptic dance track that stresses the interconnectedness of us all. "Your loss is my loss", Joel Sephy Gleiser sings amid a cushion of harmonies provided by bandmate Jon Coyle and Sophie Coran. It's a track that really puts the last two years into perspective - how heavily intertwined the lives of everyone is. How reliant on our neighbors we are for collective care. And so while Son Step are inspired by nuclear disaster and the last party on Earth - there's also a sense of fun - swirling synths and keyboard flourishes rise and fall along the processed beats.
"Mutual Assurance" is out now and available for purchase on Son Step's Bandcamp.
Around the time of his 2014 album Please, Norwegian singer/songwriter Sondre Lerche essentially abandoned his established songwriting formula - writing about 20 songs between records before narrowing them down in pursuit of somewhat continuous form of songwriting that where each album kind of feed into each other. The result was Please, Pleasure, and Patience, a series of records that form a sort of loose trilogy but feature songs that were all developed sometime in the seven years between Lerche's self-titled sixth album and the end of the last year's Patience. While covid lockdowns forced many bands/artists to essentially buckle down and explore new methods of music making and music sharing, Lerche was fortunate enough to be able to return to his native Norway where he was able to both tour rather extensively as well as work on new music with his regular collaborators. "Dead of the Night", the first single from what fans can all assume is a forthcoming album, is a taste of Lerche's Norwegian return. Clocking in at 10 mins long, it eclipses the album ender "Things You Call Fate" from his debut Faces Down as his longest track, while also continuing an ongoing trend of Lerche taking his pop sensibilities and using them to explore long form songwriting.
"Dead of Night" slowly unfurls, Lerche taking listeners on a detailed tour of feelings felt and experiences experienced in the late night hours. Much like "Why Would I Let You Go", Lerche's aim is largely narrative, not necessarily in hooks or choruses and "Dead of the Night" is a smörgåsbord of verses - though not without its share of quasi-hooks. It's a song that nods to the themes of Please, Pleasure, and Patience without really indulging in them itself; for every mention of the body, of pleasures sought, rejected, or indulged, there's a forward momentum that carries you through - they're merely landmarks on scenic ride Lerche's embarking on. Lerche essentially takes his greatest strengths - his ability to craft incredibly relatable songs and his succinctness while doing so and flips them on their head - it's Lerche at his most narratively exploratory and his least committed to traditional song structures - instead offering up a lyrical fantasia that still taps into the visceral. "We're living in the dead of night in the hope that we might inspire another ending", Lerche croons, and even among its expansive sprawl, among its numerous twists and bends, still manages a concise encapsulation of the song's true takeaway.
Sondre Lerche's latest single "Dead of The Night" is out now.
Considering the range of sounds on Philly experimental pop trio Son Step's last album Fossilillies, I should hardly be surprised at the difference between "New Ears" and new track "Hissing Sauna" and yet, considering how mellow their previous single was, I certainly didn't expect such a dance-floor ready track to come from the same EP. As emotive a set piece as "New Ears" was, Son Step operates best when everyone is given their time to shine and everyone certain does here - especially guest drummer Ben Sloan. Where keyboardist Jon Coyle took the lead on "New Ears", this time Joel Sephy Gleiser takes the reins - though their trademark harmonies and layered vocals are still very much present. Inspired by Unknown Mortal Orchestra's "I Can't Keep Checking My Phone" as well as the multitude of dystopian tales of Black Mirror, Gleiser weighs the consequences of the constant state of connectedness our phones give us. It's a crisis numerous artists have tackled as the digital landscape continually introduces new way to keep people engaged and Gleiser wonders if it's all worth it. "All that I can be is in this thing concealed, all that I can be can never be revealed, when the feeling of an image disappears what does it mean to feel", Gleiser croons at arguably the most toe-tappingly energetic moment of the song - as Gleiser essentially asks if our reliance on technology is desensitizing at the same moment the song compels you to dance. There's simultaneously a "pay no attention the man behind the curtain" feeling to the track's embrace of outright pop at it's most climactic moments and a "spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down" approach.
Son Step's New Ears EP is out October 8th. You can pre-order it now.
Originally starting as a solo artist in Athens, Georgia before adopting the moniker Mothers, it seems as though singer/songwriter Kristine Leschpher is returning to creating music under her own name. While last year Leschper realized track "Something Like An Exit" as part of a pretty expansive 30 song covid-19 fundraiser for Kasra Kurt and Ada Babar's Nino Tomorrow label, Leschper has also announced new single "Figure & I".
From the earliest days of Mothers, Leschpher has returned to the body as a songwriting subject and both "Something Like An Exit" and "Figure & I" share that focus in different ways. In "Something Like An Exit", accompanied by a soft bed of synths, Leschper sings about catching her own reflection. Mirrors and other reflective surfaces - in this case a window, are treated as portals outside of the self even as you use them to view the self. The song buoys between whether that's necessarily a good or bad thing - "whats the point? Building yourself a beautiful box with no entrance". Whether you're preening yourself in a mirror or fully accepting how you look in it, there no escaping your own body. Where that was used for drama in Mothers' "Beauty Routine", here it's delivered as a soothing admission.
"Figure & I" is perhaps the most succinct Leschper's been with her words. "Figure and I, it's not always hard to find time to be alive" are the track's lyrics and she delivers them in different inflections, with clapping and vibraphone providing percussion. It's brief, it's vague, but transfixing - there's no answers to the question the lyrics raise - even as Lescpher, with the aid of Sammy Weissberg and Garrett Blake craft a multi-layered dream-pop tapestry.
"Something Like An Exit" and "Figure & I" are out now.
When I was introduced to Philly based experimental pop outfit Son Step, I was taken by the rush of sound Jon Coyle and Joel Sephy Gleiser could create. I had first seen them live as a duo in a period of transition but you absolutely couldn't tell. Armed with a series of synthesizers and their interwoven vocals, they filled the room but their sound was also distinct - kaleidoscopic layers and life-affirming lyricism, Son Step effortlessly craft fantastical reveries that transport and uplift. Now, two years after the release of their brilliant album Fossilillies, return once more with New Ears. Enlisting Ben Sloane in place of long time percussionist Matt Scarano and written by guitarist Chris Coyle, "New Ears" the eponymous track from their upcoming EP, is a gentle lilting lullaby that explores a softer, more mellifluous style of their vibrant, percussion laden dream pop. Articulated through Jon Coyle and Gleiser's vocals, Chris Coyle lyrics channels Son Step's characteristic exuberance towards a sense of familiarity and comfort that both acknowledges a sort of futility in trading in definites and relief in knowing that things change. "Step into my garden, it's bare but it has started, hey I'm growing now" Coyle and Gleiser assure and reassure. Maybe it's the strip backed arrangement, while still engaging in some intriguing textural layering that's soothing enough to quiet the most racing thoughts.
Listen to "New Ears" from Son Step's forthcoming EP of the same name out October 8th.
When I was introduced to Brooklyn's Landlady during a Hometapes showcase at SXSW back in 2014, there was certainly a lot that would appeal to me - a stage full of members including two drummers, a style of music that deftly evades categorization but feels strikingly familiar but if I'm being completely honest the thing that sold me was the sincerity of frontman Adam Schatz. In a crowded bar in Austin, Texas during a festival where each band's goal is make the most of the brief amount of time allotted to make a lasting first impression on showgoers with tenuous attention spans, Schatz asked the crowd to engage. Not just with him but each other, with people who weren't in the room whether miles, ages, or lifetimes away in a sing-a-long on "Above My Ground". It was bold. It was unexpected. But most importantly, it was incredibly sincere. It was the kind of thing that made me immediately take notice and pursue every opportunity I could to see them again and again from small intimate sets in the back of Greenpoint's now defunct Manhattan Inn and Half Moon in Hudson, it was Schatz's initial openness that led me to discover through obsessive listens that Landlady were a damn good band. Over the years and through the albums, the lineup has changed but a few things have remained the same - the band is tight-knit and perform with an awing juxtaposition of playfulness and precision, Schatz's narrative subjects take the road less traveled but still achieve a beguiling universality, and Schatz is still disarmingly sincere. Even following their career for years, Schatz still manages to surprise with an ability root his songs in an inextinguishable honesty. "Why did my friend have to die?" Schatz asks on "Supernova", the first single for their fourth and self-titled album, and with such a succinct statement I knew the new record would be unlike any other.
With lyrics that hit you like a mack truck, "Supernova" still plays into Schatz's sense of connection. Personal loss and failures coalesce with a collective understanding: "At least I know everyone's having a harder day today". It's a statement he first delivers fully and clearly with it's resurgence broken up - into four part vocals harmonies, adlibs "At least I know I'm not okay", Schatz sings, and instrumental flourishes, Schatz lands on a feeling of interconnectedness despite his individual sadness. The fact that it's followed by "Sunshine" is a masterful display of tracklisting. "Hold your breath, hold mine instead for now" Schatz opens and despite the fact that he's played it live several times, it takes on new life here. It's almost uncharacteristically sparse - featuring Schatz on keys for much of it. It's tender, as close as Landlady could arguably come to a ballad as Schatz makes a declaration of mutual support - take care of me and I'll take care of you. It's a love song but one with much broader applications than typical romance. Along with "The Meteor", "Take The Hint", and "Supernova", "Sunshine" follows themes of the heat burning up or burning out, "Sunshine" is the only one which doesn't treat it as an inevitability. "Careful with the sunshine, I won't let it burn you up" Schatz delivers less like a warning and more an expression of care and protection.
Songs like "Sunshine" and "Nowhere To Hide", which have been played live by the band or Schatz at his solo sets for years find new life and meaning on an album that seems exceptionally timely. The core of Landlady's truths are about resilience and drawing comfort in little insular moments. Whether that be loudly singing along to "God Only Knows" on "Molly Pitcher", a game of Hearts on "Tooth and Nail", Landlady is about turning to each other in good times and bad and they tackle the subject with characteristic aplomb. Schatz doesn't claim to have all the answers as "Nowhere To Hide" attests but Landlady seems to posit that many of life's solutions lie in caring about others.
The most appealing thing about Landlady is that instead of songs on an album - it functions largely as a series of conversations both between narrative subjects and the songs themselves. There's references and callbacks - reoccurring themes and images but also solitary moments, self-contained episodes. Landlady coalesced into the version of the band they wanted to be on their second album Upright Behavior and yet each subsequent effort has expanded what the band is in a way that's been enjoyable to experience. A self-titled album tends to function as a reintroduction, signaling some sort of seismic shift in sound or mythology but Landlady doesn't need anything of the sort. There's no band that sounds like Landlady and each album has solidified that. There's a distinct sound that carries through without retracing its steps. Landlady is a band that makes music that's meant to entertain and challenge themselves and then invites listeners into that space and the result are songs and albums that are celebration of music and musicianship. Landlady arrives a little more than 4 years after the band's previous full length effort The World Is A Loud Place and wastes no time in drawing you into its embrace like an old friend. There's less guests and collaborators this time around but there's no shortage of dynamic musical ideas as Schatz has a wealth of new stories and witticisms to share.
Landlady, the fourth album from Landlady is out now and available to purchase from the band's Bandcamp with $5 of all proceeds going to The Okra Project.
After the release of her follow up to her debut EP Kitsch last year, the appropriately titled Kitsch II, singer/songwriter Caroline Sans notably marked almost half a decade of intensive creative labor with a surprising amount to show of it. Several of the EPs songs had existed for several years since the very formation of her project Sur Back, surviving delays, setbacks and reworkings, and though Sans has been offering work at somewhat more consistent speed than before, hers is delicate work that benefits from the passage of time.
Like much of Sans' oevre, "Nostalgia In Motion" has been a work in progress several years in the making, meticulously thought artfully sculpted over a period of about three years while Sans was still based in Florida. From its fluttering start, "Nostalgia In Motion" is bright and expansive with elements of Sur Back's darker baroque pop turns - enriching it into a multifaceted piece of layered electronic pop.
With "Nostalgia In Motion", Sans continues her winning streak, crafting a song of arresting beauty that conveys meaning less through lyrical content and more through its production. Sans vocals are as richly colored as her brass riffs, her stutter-stop drums. "And I keep calling you back to show I'm not your nostalgia in motion" Sans coos and though the lyrics read as a sort of kiss off, Sans delivers them with a gentle caress, like sun steaming into a bedroom window. It's not meant to be a harsh wake up, but a soft rousing to exist in the present.
The lyrics all seem to build to this titular moment, the production following suit, and it's evident the idea means a lot to Sans; of not merely functioning as a walking, talking embodiment of good times past but wanting to be an active participant in life for better or worse. To weather whatever storms live may bring despite uncertain or a lack of control. "I can't hold on like I'm used to" Sans sings with an aching tenderness before "I'm not your nostalgia" hits like an ocean wave.
Sur Back's new single "Nostalgia in Motion" is out now. Sans is playing a single release show with Den-Mate, NOIEA, and Rare DM at Alphaville in Brooklyn on July 18th. Tickets and details available here.
I was introduced to the layered electro pop of singer-songwriter Renè Kladzyk's project Ziemba during a night at Elvis Guesthouse curated by SoftSpot's Sarah Kinlaw back in 2015, and immediately noted both the artistry and precision of Kladzyk's loop based art pop. While I've done rather a poor job of following her career since then (she's released her debut full length Hope Is Never since then), most recently she released the third part of a series of concept records entitled ARDIS based around an utopian vision of Earth and the steps Kladzyk invisions need to be taken to get there.
Though she just released the third part earlier this month, this week saw the release of the video of "Ugly Ambitious Women" from the first part of the project. Inspired by a Youtube comment "Ambitious women can't help being ugly", Kladzyk turned the sexist comment into an artistic statement both on the nature of misogynistic attempts to control and define femininity and her own self reflection of what womanhood is as society defines it. "Ugly Ambitious Women" is both a radical reclamation and cheeky derision of what other people decide. "Ambitious women can't help being ugly, look at me" Kladzyk sings with a smile and an eyeroll. Her lyrics are mostly mocking, barely concealed distate with the antiquated notions of womanhood and femininity: "hysterical, too quick to cry, built to break, delicate rose, got a complex, silly old bleeding a mess". Kladzyk lists a series of stereotypes and her contempt is evident despite a notable lack of bile. And that in itself is her playing into another stereotype of the calm, placid feminine - her voice an angelic chirp even when voicing obvious displeasure.
Visually, Kladzyk leans fully into her anima, embodying the various roles men expect women to play and women are told they have to conform to - she's the radiant, nuturing goddess, the bubbly, fun one, the voluptuous beauty. But Kladzyk also gets to fulfill the roles she wants - clad in a power suit, fierce and fashionable, wearing ornate head pieces and costumes. There's a certain power in appealing to the stereotype - to deceive, to Trojan Horse your own particular point and that's essentially what Kladzyk does here - lampooning society's definitions of femininity through dressing up in its various costumes. Femininity may be a prison but Kladzyk wears it as her armor as she attempts her jailbreak.
Watch the video for "Ugly Ambitious Women" directed by Veronique Halbrey:
My introduction to Brooklyn based experimental pop duo Boio happened, very much like Boon, in two parts. Firstly through our two bands being booked to play together. I was taken by their brand of energetic, infectious songs but there was very little in terms of consumable output post-show, an EP with four songs and outtakes entitled Sleep appearing and subsequently disappearing from the band's personal Bandcamp as they geared up for an actual release, and though I meant to keep up with the band, it wasn't until a year later that I saw them again.
Boio was already a strong project capable of delivering instantly catchy melodies but in the year since I've seen them, the band had made some changes namely in the presentation of those same songs that had won me over so easily. Already high energy, the duo somehow ramped even that up so that their live shows were something that had to be experienced to be truly understood. Finnegan Shanahan previously juggling guitar, violin, and viola, instead focused solely on guitar and the various sounds he could pull from it while Robby Bowen elevated his drum kit to a full on percussion laboratory with a number of different knick knacks and homemade tools providing a broader sonic palette to match Shanahan's array of sounds.
Last week, Boio released a new track "Ball", one that hints of a future album in the works and one of my person favorites to watch them perform live. Another one of their avant pop jams - it's an encapsulation of their experimentation, their pop sensibilities and their talent as musicians. "Ball" like much of Boio's oevre treats lyricism as both a jumping off point and a brush by which to paint their diverse aural tapestries and timbre exploration. It starts simple enough with effected guitar, chugging drums, and Bowen and Shanahan's mellifluous harmonies. It's a particularly scenic track that establishes the duo's hamonic language and textural interplay from the forefront and essentially sees how these two constants persist under duress even as Bowen and Shanahan are the cause and pursue it doggedly. The chorus "You drive the pool around the world" becomes an experience not wholly akin to semantic satiation but a phrase with no real meaning whose repetition imbues it with such. It persists through its various utterances and dynamic delivery - spoken, sung, shrieked, split up, and reconfigured, enjoying as rich of an exploration as Boio invest in its instrumental elements and insuring this particular ear worm burrows deep. But then "Ball" is such a delightful five minutes, listeners are sure to welcome its insistent catchiness.
Last year the release of their debut Spirit Mane EP saw Brooklyn based quintet Toebow offering their self described brand of "cartoon rock" to more than those lucky enough to see them play one of their spirited live shows in their adopted hometown and now almost a year later the band are releasing their debut full length album Themes.
Since my discovery of them through word of mouth, their from-the-ashes association with the Vermont psych pop collective BOBBY, and as many live shows as I could possibly manage in the year between their EP and eventual album release, I have come to know Toebow as an incredibly reliable band with a unique vision. Part of the fuel for that lies in their collaborative nature and ability to follow almost every musical idea that comes their way to some sort of conclusion. This method of collaborative composition has led to guitarists and vocalists Martin Zimmermann and Nate Ulsh joking referring to themselves as an idea band.
Though she has since moved on, both to form her own project Uni Ika Ai as well as becoming a member of The Dirty Projectors, Maia Friedman is featured the first single as well as elsewhere on Themes. Considering how heavily group harmonies and intricate instrumental interplay factor into the band's core dynamic, "Bed In Breakfast" is a bit of a curveball; a mellow sunrise greeting number. Yawny and languid without remaining utterly static.
While "Bed In Breakfast" is a bit surprising in its restrained energy, some of the elements I've come to know from the band's live set are present: the harmonies, the vocal hand-offs, and the springy twang of Zimmermann's guitar occur in the subtler slow jam.
"Bed In Breakfast" much like the songs on Spirit Mane exists in a world of the band's own creation. The lyrics are presented without much exposition or extrapolation. With songs like "Starfucker" or "I'll Be Gone", Toebow is building its own mythology and the references don't receive much in the way of explanation. To Toebow's credit, they don't really need them. Much of Toebow's brand of playful, vibrant colored psych rock is about capturing a particular mood than narrative fortrightness and "Bed In Breakfast", with its bedhead lethargy feels like a downright lucid dream.
Toebow's debut full length Themes is out May 24th on Imaginator Records. You can pre-order it now.
Late last year when Harry Burgess of Adult Jazz and Jack Armitage aka Lil Data premiered their collaborative project Offer with the pastoral hymnal reminiscent twelve minute debut single "Day Away", they teased more music on the horizon. Now nearly five months later, they've loosed eponymous single "Offer" which trades the meticulous unfurling craftsmanship of "Day Away" for a much more insistent slice of cacophonous experimental pop.
Where "Day Away" was narratively focused and every element of it's composition served to heighten the track's sense of drama, "Offer" is all lyrical coyness and compositional grandeur. Trying to wrestle against and distract from its vulnerability with ear-catching pyrotechnics. Burgess quickly dispenses with the lyrics early - presenting nearly every iteration of bridge-hook-chorus before the song is even half over and that's when things truly get unpredictable. Armitage sets out a flurry of spectacular effects, previously building throughout the tracks verses and first and secondary choruses and Burgess' voice becomes but an other instrument for him to direct. They're pitched up, doubled, spliced, and otherwise affected to form a part of the track's sort of disorienting tension and compulsory catharsis. "I don't wanna offer it up to you, don't wanna offer to you" Burgess sings, trying to tramp down his feelings but Armitage's stellar production works as the response to Burgess' call as sounds zip and ping and are otherwise loosed. They never quite reach all out chaos but there's a measured sense of disorder: a lack of control without letting everything get completely away from them.
"Offer" and "Day Away" are complimentary, similar in theme if not tone and essentially having their development happen inversely. Where "Day Away" is a gentle crescendo into it's climactic moments - starting from nothing, peaking, and then ebbing away slower and slower until it's brassy fanfare brings things to a close, "Offer" is immediate, frenetic in its presentation without losing the polish on its production. "Day Away" aspired to folk ballad stature with each of its sounds intending to recall something more or less organic, "Offer" doesn't hesitate to utilize effects and sounds that are in no way meant to recall man-made ones.
Considering Bay area duo The Dodos released not only their seventh studio album Certainty Waves but singer/guitarist Meric Long's own solo album Barton's Den as FAN last year, I thought it'd be quite some time until we've heard anything even remotely new from the band. And yet after touring behind Certainty Waves last year, Long was feeling particularly inspired and, with a brand new Recording King acoustic guitar, set about chasing said spark of inspiration while it lasted. "The Surface" is the result of one of these post-tour writing sessions.
The appeal of "The Surface" essentially lies in the fact that while one of the most consistent recording acts, the band revisited and challenged their own mythology on Certainty Waves. The result was a record that freed them from the confines of the band they thought they were - that other people had elected as their narrative and allowed them a freedom to experiment with form, instrumentation, and substance. And after a record of exploration, "The Surface" arrives to establish The Dodos likewise flourish under the simplest means as they do their most experimental. While the duo challenged their acoustic guitar and percussion persona on Certainty Waves, "The Surface" returns right to it. Beginning with a langouring prelude punctuated by bursts of chords and which self reference Long's bouts of writer's block, the entrance of Logan Kroeber's drums snaps everything into sharp focus; from cynical self-doubting melancholy to a more spirited probing inquiry. It's a rousing piece of percussive guitar pop not unlike many in The Dodos' oeuvre and yet, there's a freshness to it as it revels in it's own simplicity. It's a testament to the effectiveness of good songwriting and ode of sorts to introspection. "Where do we go from here? The question, it's not the one to answer." Long offers and while it may be incredibly demonstrative of The Dodos' own creative self-inquiry, it's almost universally applicable. What kind of question you ask frames the argument; yields different answers. "The Surface" doesn't intellectualize it to much but captures that very spirit of it
"The Surface", currently a one-off single, is available now as a digital single from Polyvinyl:
I was introduced to Philly synth pop duo Son Step when I attended a fundraiser show for American Immigration Council they put on at Threes Brewing last May with Renata Zeiguer, Wilder Maker, and Zula. I went exceptionally familiar with Renata Zeigeur and Wilder Maker and had at least heard of Zula but Son Step were a total unknown to me and their set absolutely surpassed any possible expectations I could've formed. Jon Coyle and Joel Gleiser were essentially sat adjacent synth setups and created an immersive wash of kaleidoscopic melodies that held me completely transfixed until even after their set's final notes. They had mentioned that both the setup and the songs were mostly new and I was incredibly intrigued. Their songs were incredibly lush despite the fact that they were essentially stripped down. Though I haven't been able to see Son Step live again since but at the very least the duo have announced their third full length album Fossilillies, introducing it with "Saucy" recorded with former members Chris Coyle and Matt Scarano.
"Saucy" is an absolutely resplendent piece of multi-textured bliss pop. It's a buoyant, jubilant ode to thoughts and feelings that are utterly indescribable. And the duo don't really intend to try. Their lyrics evoke quiet little moments to create emotionally resonant echoes in lieu of actual explanation. Coyle and Gleiser's vocals are effortlessly intertwined into radiant harmonies, absolutely in line with the song's vibrant coloring and light-centered lyrics. Their vocals weave serpentine swaths, stratospheric arcs, and glance like skipping stones on sun dappled waters all the while they create effortlessly dreamy layered soundscapes to accompany them.
Fossilillies, Son Step's third full length album is out May 17th on Grind Select. You can pre-order the record now.
Despite releasing her debut full length album Old Ghost just last year, singer/songwriter/multi-instrumentalist Renata Zeiguer has already hard at work on its follow up. While the product of that particular effort remains to be seen for the time being, Zeiguer is offering up an EP called Faraway Business featuring two covers and two alternate takes of Old Ghost tracks "Gravity" and "Wayside".
"Chega de Saudade" is a cover but holds such a place in Zeiguer's musical DNA that not only has an English translation of one of its lyrics inspire the title of Zeiguer's interim collection of songs but she returned to it as a way to sort of center herself musically. Originally written by Antônio Carlos Jobim and Vinícius de Moraes and popularized by João Gilberto as a single and also by his album of the same name, Zeigeur tries to achieve a similar intimacy of the original while also experimenting with Ace Tone drum machine from the 60s. For old and new fans of Zeigeur alike, "Chega de Saudade" provides a raw glimpse of Zeiguer's musical influences and tendencies stripped free of Zeiguer's stellar layered arrangements. While Zeiguer's musical history in classical and jazz can be gleaned in her approach both to her own project and involvement in others, her sparse rendition of a bossa nova classic really snaps into focus how much musical styles that are widely characterized by their subtlety has informed Zeiguer's own approach to both songwriting and arranging.
Faraway Business is out April 12th on Northern Spy Records and is available for pre-order now.
My first encounter with Raleigh pop rockers Truth Club, then a trio but since expanding into a four piece, was in Neptunes on the 2nd night of Hopscotch Music Festival in 2017. I was instantly taken with the band's dynamic - churning around vocalist Travis Harrington with an energy both frenetic and breezy and ability to shift tempos and moods with an impressive amount of ease. It was the strength of that set alone that marked them as a band to watch in my mind even as they seemed relegated to being one of the Raleigh music scene's best kept secrets. With "Not An Exit, the first single from their upcoming debut full length of the same name, the band are making a splash on a much larger stage.
Their first release since 2017's two song release Interest Meeting, "Not An Exit", with it's sightly off-kilter jangle, quickly establishes itself as an inescapable ear worm before guitarist Travis Harrington's vocals even enter. And when they do, they're a kind of unassuming half mumble that make it all the more effective when certain phrases leap out at you. Harrington is the kind of songwriter that doesn't assume everything he has to say is profound and with that freedom ends up creating some pretty stirring turns of phrase. "Not An Exit" essentially deals with the body as a prison. No matter how confidently you grew up or how normal or cool of a life you've lived, we've all had at least one of those moments that were so jarringly awkward that you've contemplated an escape from your own body; to wink out of existence. Harrington locks onto that in "Not An Exit" but also offers that regardless of how much you might want to escape its inescapable confines, the body is your home. While "Not An Exit" draws its inspiration from the anxiety of post-adolescent youth, it's charmingly mature even avoiding some cliched "it gets better" ending. No, Harrington's closing remarks: "There's not an exit from a form and there's never gonna be" is much more true to life while also striking an uplifting chord. You can't escape your body or its flaws but you can get more comfortable with them and hunker down for the long haul.
Listen to "Not An Exit":
Truth Club's forthcoming debut full length album Not An Exit out May 3rd on Tiny Engines. You can pre-order the record now on digital or limited edition colored cassette.
I was introduced to now Durham based singer/songwriter and former member of Oakland collective Trails and Ways Madeline Kenney as a solo artist last year due largely in part to the role Jenn Wasner of Wye Oak/Flock of Dimes had in producing her sophomore album Perfect Shapes. Her lead single "Cut Me Off" was a such pitch perfect piece of vibrant guitar pop that I was instant on board and made sure to check in occasionally to see else she had up her sleeve.
Considering how closely they worked together: with Kenney living with Wasner out in Durham as they engineered Perfect Shapes, it's hardly surprising that two would stumble upon a kindred enough connection to collaborate further and the two wrote and recorded a split 7" together. The 7" is essentially a conversation of sorts between Wasner and Kenney as they navigate their positions as women in a male dominated industry. Wasner, an industry veteran for more than a decade, who at one time was so averse to being tokenized as the "woman guitarist" crafted a whole Wye Oak album without it to demonstrate her other talents and strengths, offers us a gauzy, obfuscation in "The Sisters". It is multitudinous in its production as driving bass lines, lithe guitar riffs, Wasner's aching, craning vocals, and a synth sheen are all blended into a hazy miasma of melancholy.
Kenney's part of the dialogue, "Helpless", is a sort of tongue-in-cheek but certainly no less sincere bit of roleplay. Vulnerability is the mark of any gifted songwriter but seems to be expected of any/every female songwriter and Kenney casts herself in that role: "Look me over, I am helpless" she coos and if her songwriting on Perfect Shapes' didn't reveal her as versatile songwriter/guitarist equally capable of vulnerability and fearlessness in equal measure, it might be easy to take the 7" track as characteristic, partially added by Kenney more or less playing her role straight. The lightness and ease that define much of Perfect Shapes is present with Kenney relying on lyrical specificity rather than verbosity. "What if they see me or worse believe me?" Kenney sings before a layered outro begins where verses are stacked upon each other and essentially are left to battle for dominance in a surprisingly orderly fashion. And it seems a worthwhile indication of Kenney's struggle in accepting the role of the helpless woman trope with her being perceived as truly a damsel in distress as the worst possible case scenario. It's a track of beguiling simplicity with Kenney's featherlight vocals providing an interesting contrast to Wasner's more grounded ones.
"The Sisters"/"Helpless" digital 7" is out now and with physical edition available from Carpark Records on April 16th. You can pre-order now.
From the release of her debut self-titled album, New Zealand singer/songwriter Aldous Harding has made a career out of carefully plotted tales of love and all its disasters. With sophomore album Party, released by 4AD in 2017, Harding made a slight pivot from the creeping folk of her self-titled to a more polished production rooted more concretely in pop. The result was an absolute stunner of an album that didn't trade accessibility in for Harding's excellent though furtive lyricism.
"The Barrel", the new single from Harding's upcoming third album Designer, is the latest in her surreptitiously plotted oeuvre. Preferring poetic lyricism over narrative clarity, "The Barrel" leaves a lot to the listener's imagination in both its words and its accompanying visuals directed by Martin Sagadin and Harding. "The wave of love is a transient hunt" Harding offers up as bread crumb of the song's intent. Ultimately, though Harding's a deft hand with particular turns of phrase, Harding's real skill is encompassing a feeling that she doesn't feel the need to rely on narrative structure to convey. Her intent seems not to tell you anything you can't get a feel for from her words and her song's twinkling, dreamlike svelteness. And in that regard "The Barrel" succeeds: holding you in thrall with as Harding's vocals wash over you like siren song. For all the drama she can invoke with her vocals, Harding maintains a enchanting hush and in the video - maintains firm eye contact and a subtlety of motion. Ever choice seems tailor made to mystify while Harding seems to assert a sense of independence. "I'm not getting wet", "I'm not getting led along". "The Barrel" might be a love song of sorts but Harding quickly establishes it's not one where she's getting sweep along in the rush of it. She's clear eyed and, while not all together apprehensive, intends to be in control.
Aldous Harding's third full length album Designer is out on 4AD and Flying Nun on April 26th.
