Regina Spektor - What We Saw from the Cheap Seats (2012)

Long before ARMS or even Sondre Lerche there was Regina Spektor. My regular go-to gal and pinnacle of songwriting excellence and keeper of the eternal flame of my oppressive fandom. My experiences with Regina Spektor are decidedly long and storied and undoubtedly one-sided: A weekend trip to visit a recently displaced friend when I was in my early high school days was when I was introduced and while originally thinking her  silly and insane, I found that I had grown to like and respect her. Her songs were smart but not stuffily so and the more I listened the more I found I'd learn. The meanings were subtle but the narratives were engaging and entertaining, and her talent undeniable.

My love of Spektor's music soon grew to eclipse that of her current output and so I took to the web and discovered a treasure trove of live recordings of songs that she's yet to commit to tape. Recorded by fans at live shows spanning her entire career thus far, the collection was impressive; about 170 different songs if memory serves. I had joined message boards and even regularly visited a Livejournal group (despite not actually operating a Livejournal) just for the latest scoop on her and information about where I might obtain more recordings.

Despite not seeing a single live show of hers (due to being a high school student with absolutely no disposable income), I felt like I could personally vouch for the impressiveness of them because of the recordings. Her song "Making Records" seemed to all but agree with this as she seems to lament committing her voice to tape noting the machines ability to bring her vocals to a level of perfection she cannot humanely recall. In fact, my love of her was so strong that sensing the obvious bias one of my blog's first major tenants was that I was not allowed to blog about her.

And I remember exactly when the fires of my love were snuffed out: the release of 2009's Far. The album wasn't terrible, not by a long shot but my love of ska/punk music as well as my own distaste with what other kids around me were listening to had distilled in me a distrust of major labels - a distrust which heretofore had never been directed at Spektor despite her place on a Warner Records subsidiary.

"Laughing With" took all of the mystery out of her songwriting making it quite clear what she was singing about, not allowing me to discover for myself the serious tone of it. But even that was fine. The act of severe betrayal happened in the form of much beloved "Folding Chair" - a simple little love song that was quintessentially silly Regina but still serious, it was when the overproduced instrumentation and overproccessed vocals kicked in that I felt my fandom deflate, a suspicious shield of distrust erected in its place. I could never completely dislike her because quite frankly, the album was still packed with more than enough good songs and her back catalog still had the same effects on me. But I knew from that day on, I'd be dubious of any of her future releases.

When Regina Spektor announced What We Saw From the Cheap Seats earlier this year, I had mixed feelings. I remembered the sting of Far's overproduction and death of Spektor's simplicity but I was still curious and filled with hope. First single "All the Rowboats" though relying on production techniques did so inoffensively and my hope was renewed though with a heavy layer of mistrust. The first sign of a misstep would see me bolting never to return. Or so I thought: With the release of second single "Don't Leave Me (Ne Me Quitte Pas)" there's synthesized piano and drums which I wasn't quite fond of and yet, I stuck around and I'm certainly glad I did.    

Opener "Small Time Moon" proves like "All the Rowboats" that the studio perks that are afforded to Spektor aren't always bad thing, giving the track a bouncy, joyful flare that might not have come off before. "Oh, Marcello" sees the return of a quirkier, much missed Spektor as she fully adopts the character of a Italian woman, affect included, to spin a plot that could very well be out of Shakespeare or his contemporaries which she combines with a stolen set of lyrics from The Animals' "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood" to create a bit of a quizzical anachronism. After "Don't Leave Me (Ne Me Quitte Pas", Spektor finds a pretty spot on balance between her own talents (vocal percussion abounds) and those of the studio so that you don't have the same jarring experience ever again. You even get a very obvious peek to her likes and influences with the soulful "How" which recalls Billie Holiday plainly and simply without merely sounding reductive.

My problem with What We Saw From the Cheap Seats is exclusively from a place of privilege. I had heard many of the songs before a multitude of times before I suppose I was meant to. While Spektor has supported the recording of her songs and the sharing of her songs (in most cases, if they aren't detrimental to another person's vision), I essentially have undue knowledge I shouldn't have. Perhaps if I hadn't heard the live version of "Folding Chair", I wouldn't have been so offended by the album version or so distrustful of the computer-friendly "Ne Me Quitte Pas" (I will call it by its originally name forever), my ears might have still pricked up (not in a good way) when I heard both of these songs but who's to say.  And so my feelings while not to be totally disregarded aren't exactly the status quo. Even at her most overtly poppy, Spektor is at her most endearing. They may not give her the proper forum to display her impressive plethora of talents but they're hard to fault.

What We Saw from the Cheap Seats seems to be the foil to Far, featuring Regina Spektor at her most fun, thoroughly enjoying herself. Not that there's not fun songs on Far, but where songs like "Two Birds" and "Dance Anthem of the 80s" seemed more cute than anything, What We Saw from the Cheap Seats pulses with smile-inducing splendor even at its most serious ("The Ballad of the Politician", "Open"). It's fitting that Spektor returned to fan recordings to select songs for this album because they allow her a certain freedom she doesn't really take full reign of in her more recent songs. Rediscovery imbues in her a sense of wonder and playfulness.  The album's strongest tracks are in fact, the oldest "The Party" and "Jessica" don't really hold a candle to "Open" or "Patron Saint" and yet, the album's not a competition. Even the weaker tracks sparkle with Spektor's radiant charm.

Will Stratton - Post-Empire (2012)

It's a marvel that I was introduced to Will Stratton purely by chance; a stray tweet from Knox Road advertising the upcoming release of Post-Empire piqued my interest and directed me to Stratton's Bandcamp where a two song preview wait for me. Honestly enough, on my first couple listens to the full album upon its release date, the tracks that most jumped out at me were the first two - the tracks that had hooked me in the first place.

And yet as I listened to the album again and again, I couldn't deny my enjoyment of the album as a whole. "You Divers" functions as a rather exceptional prelude to the collection of plainsy, windswept tunes of Post-Empire and "When You Let Your Hair Down to Your Shoulder" grabbed me with its Marling-esque inflections but the whole album is a rich, nuanced work of talent. As evidenced by the aforementioned "You Divers" with its almost 3 minute instrumental introduction, Stratton displays a careful attention to detail and patient plotting that benefits the album greatly in the long run. Post-Empire becomes an album that sort of sneaks up on you after catching you in its web of brilliant finger-picked melodies and bewitching vocal harmonies. Slowly you become aware of the man's uncanny ability for heartwarming poetic lyricism and Stratton's own tenor pleasantly initiates you into his realm of delicate folk hymns.

Post-Empire is an album that doesn't rely on catchiness at least not outright. It's undeniably memorable but not from a poppy approach. No, instead Stratton draws you in with the abundance of talent both compositional and lyrical that radiates from each song. Post-Empire is an album that does what it wants in exactly the time it wants to do so and manages to take its place as one of the best folk albums of the year as a result. While the foursome of "At The Table of Styx", "If You Wait Long Enough", "The Relatively Fair" and album closer "Mercury Id Blues" form a rather impressive lead out, the album takes its time getting there with the cascading riffs of "Tell Me, Where Do I Begin?" and the most notably story-driven track on the album, "Colt New Marine". It's these middle tracks where Stratton's lyrical prowess becomes the most important, driving the songs more than the arrangements. Will Stratton should certainly be proud of such a majestically aurally pleasing endeavor and we should all be in awe.

Listen to Will Stratton's Post-Empire here or on Spotify:

Watch: Andrew Bird - "Eyeoneye"

Can you believe it's almost been 3 months since Andrew Bird released his latest album Break It Yourself? After unveiling the first single right around the release of the album, it seems perhaps a little belated to offer up a video for it months later and yet, that's exactly what Bird is doing here. And when you see it, in all it's handcrafted felty goodness you really can't blame him. The result is perhaps a rather literal interpretation of the song and yet dripping with Bird's trademark quirk and affinity for cuteness.

And fitting for such a creative endeavor, Bird premiered the video on Etsy. Not bad, Mr. Bird, not bad at all.
Watch Andrew Bird's video for "Eyeoneye":

Watch: Hundred Waters - "Sonnet" Live

A couple weeks ago, Gainesville Florida quintet and current soundtrack to my dreams Hundred Waters tweeted about recording an acoustic song for Portals out in Denver while on tour. "How?" I thought as the groups majestic awe-inspiring tunes are largely powered by their dizzying electronics. Of course I was intrigued. From their live set you could tell the group are tremendously talented and don't use their gizmos and gadgets as a crutch but more of an extension of their wealth of ideas and vehicle for otherworldly transportation, how would they stack up without them? Would they still be able to create dreamy tapestries? In case you're still pondering the answer to this question - the answer is yes. Swapping out synths for guitars, and adding in a muted trumpet alongside Sam Moss on glockenspiel, the band still have it; that magical ephemeral spark that makes you get lost in their quiet calm and Nicole Miglis and Sam's ethereal vocals.

Check out Hundred Waters acoustic version of "Sonnet" for Portals:


Their debut self-titled full length is out now, listen/buy/stream/love it here.

(via Portals)

Pitstop: Lucius

"You've never seen Lucius before? You're in for a real treat."

These words, spoken to me by Conveyor guitarist Alan, were my only warning before I was ushered completely uninitiated into the fantastic siren song of the she-beasts of Lucius. Donned in matching black dresses, knee-high boots, and bows in their hair, the synchronized style of Lucius' Jess Wolfe and Holly Laessig is enough to throw you off the trail of their absolutely awe-striking vocals. As I watched them at their most recent gig at Cameo for Deli Magazine's Best Emerging Artists Fest, I was massively unprepared for what I would witness. Elaborately constructed, infectious and highly memorable pop-songs, the girls and their band of three similarly dressed gentlemen were a veritable force of nature. Each and every aspect mindbogglingly amazing - from their onslaught of percussion (almost each member had their own snare drum), their bewildering powerhouse vocals that exploded from the females with an intensity that was nothing sort of overwhelming, and a clearly talented band which helped frame it all. No one part overtook the other and yet, the girls vocals cut clear through all everything straight toward the audience's hearts and ears. Every man and woman at the show no doubt left a little more in love with Lucius than when they arrived.



Recording-wise Lucius are almost a completely different beast. Restrained but no less ear-catching, no less crush-inducing, their recently released self-titled EP is a far quieter taste of the Brooklyn band in a short but sweet set of four tracks. Sparse but not empty arrangements spotlight the gals uncomfortably good vocal chops while hitting a rather diverse palette of ideas and sounds from folk and 60s Spector pop ("Don't Just Sit There") to sassy noise pop a la Treats-era Sleigh Bells with far less actual noise ("Genevieve") with jazzy ornaments  thrown in for good measure, the girls manage to blend all these together to create an undeniably great style that's endearingly hard to explain. And with a more permanent roster of members like guitarist Peter Lalish and Dan Molad on drums, the band's clearly only going to get better and more dynamic in their recordings.



Did you hear that? Lucius have arrived and every band should quake a little in their shoes. Lucius, with their tempting blend of raw talent, insane live energy, and knack for pitch-perfect pop of the best kind, just might steal your fans away.

Get a taste of Lucius with their live version of "Don't Just Sit There" for The Wild Honey Pie:


You can grab Lucius' self-titled EP on iTunes as well as listen to on Spotify.

Listen: Tallest Man on Earth - "1904"

There doesn't seem to be any stopping Swedish folk guitarist Kristian Matsson aka The Tallest Man on Earth. After releasing not only his incredible sophomore album The Wild Hunt back in 2010 but his Sometimes The Blues Is Just A Passing Bird EP later that same year, the man took what we all would agree was a well deserved break - although not really considering he toured a bit and released "Weather Of A Killing Kind" as part of the Adult Swim Singles Program last year. Turns out, that break wasn't even real. Matsson is gearing up to release another selection of what promises to be finger-picked guitar gems with his upcoming third album There's No Leaving Now next month.

While everything's been pretty quiet since the initial album announce, we can now hear brand new track "1904" which is more of that Tallest Man goodness we've come to love. It's a bit of a conundrum how the man can keep churning out tracks of his high caliber of songwriting while also improving his technique (both vocally and instrumentally speaking) but it's certainly appreciated. "1904" is almost bursting at the seams with hopeful splendor, a rolling surprisingly fast-paced (at least in the rather fluid guitar lines) track which is really just makes the album seem tragically far away.

Listen to The Tallest Man on Earth's "1904":


The Tallest Man on Earth's third album There's No Leaving Now is out June 12th on Dead Oceans.

Kishi Bashi - 151a (2012)

It may have been a streak of determined Sondre Lerche fandom that first brought me into contact with Kishi Bashi last year but the man quickly won me over on his own merits. An utterly awe-inspiring one man band structured live show and the brilliantly eclectic debut Room For Dream EP, it's no wonder I fell in love with the violinist extraordinaire and the release of his debut full length 151a was at the very top of my most anticipated list - an album I and many, many others made possible through funding on Kickstarter.  A cursory listen to Kishi Bashi's EP (for the tragically uninitiated) is all the answer you need for why so many were clamoring to make K.'s vision a reality.

Given the cinematic scope of 151a, it's no coincidence that many of Kishi Bashi's songs make references to movies (or a novel in the case of "Manchester"), from "Intro" which leads right into "Pathos, Pathos", the album has an unceasing flow, thoughtful care obviously given not only to each track but also to their place on the album as each track slides virtually seamlessly into the other and builds upon the mood of its predecessor. Plaintive, introspective "Manchester" becomes the carefree flutter of "Bright Whites" then endearingly joyful "It Began With A Burst" with its abundance of man-made percussion and overflow of positive feeling. Each tonal shift and evolution is pleasantly familiar without being at all expected; a testament to K.'s gradual, organic growth of ideas and deft handling of them. When the album hits sparse, ethereal "I Am the Antichrist To You" with its frolicsome pizzicato, it's an inspiring moment of complete euphoria. The overwhelmingly beautiful track spirals into lushness while retaining its barebones simplicity that almost guarantees its place as the most emotion-stirring track on the whole album.

151a is an album after my own heart - clearly composed with a stunning delicacy and breathtaking intricacy while also having emotive tone-shifts. On 151a, K. effortlessly juggles fun ear-catching pop with serious orchestral flair and the result is a smile-inducing and earnest work of art. A soaring, heartfelt masterpiece grounded by artistic intent and sincere ingenuity.

Kishi Bashi's 151a is out now on Joyful Recordings. Give the stellar album a listen: