Voyagers and Glory Fires: The Top 14 Albums of 2014 (unabridged)

Hello! It's been a while since I've written here. As I imagine most readers know, I've been busy writing for Boise Weekly this past year. It's been a lot of work, but overall, it's been great.

This article was originally published in an abridged version in the Weekly on Jan. 7, 2015 (an apparent upload mishap made it even more abridged). I decided to publish the full version here--with the kind permission of BW, I should add--because I worked hard on it and, God help me, I actually think the writing's pretty good. Hopefully, you good people will feel the same. More importantly, I hope you like the albums I picked and maybe discover something you didn't know about.

Also, I thought that this could serve as notice that I intend to write more for HCTD in the coming year. Admittedly, 2015 has already been keeping me busy: On top of working four different paying gigs, I'm looking into contributing to a Boise-based music website that's being set up (stay tuned for info on that). Nonetheless, I do miss writing stuff here. Leaving alone the freedom to write whatever I want however I want, I have by no means forgotten that this crude-looking, stupidly named blog has been the source of nearly everything good that has happened in my life over the past three years. For that and for your readership, I will always be grateful.

Okay, enough preface. Hope you enjoy!


Tough times call for tough music--music that challenges, surprises, enlightens and delights. Whether it came from young upstarts staking their claims or old lions roaring once again, a lot of this kind of music came out last year. Here are 14 of the best albums of 2014.

Lee Bains III & the Glory Fires, Dereconstructed

The Clash is alive and well and jamming with Lynyrd Skynyrd in Birmingham, Ala. As unlikely as this description may seem, it's really what Dereconstructed sounds like.

Birmingham-raised, NYU-educated Lee Bains proclaims his undying love for the South while railing against some of its--and America's--many ills: racism, homophobia, thieving businessmen, regressive politics, blind consumerism. He and the Glory Fires back up these fighting words with snarling guitars and a rhythm section that can handle sludgy stomp, mid-tempo boogie and full-throttle blitzkrieg.

The Bitter Southerner declared that this punk-Southern rock hybrid "may be the most important record about the South ever released." It may also be the best rock album of 2014.

Jenny Lewis, The Voyager

Many reviews of The Voyager reference the rough patch that Jenny Lewis went through over the past few years. These experiences--the death of her father, the breakup of her band Rilo Kiley, struggles with insomnia--may have influenced the album, but focusing on them can distract you from the wit, empathy and complexity of her songwriting.

With production help from Beck and Ryan Adams, Lewis depicts women making their own mistakes, learning their own lessons and speaking their own minds. These concise tales of sexual and chemical experimentation feature some of the sharpest melodies and slyest vocals of her career, making The Voyager and almost perfect pop-rock album.

Run the Jewels, Run the Jewels 2

At Treefort 2014, Run the Jewels' Killer Mike got a crowd full of Idahoans to shout, "Fuck Ronald Reagan!" With their second album together, he and partner El-P pull off something equally audacious.

Run the Jewels 2 mixes social protest, trash talk and blunt-and-booze glorification without shortchanging any of them. Killer Mike and El-P deliver it all with slamming beats, razor-sharp rhymes and quicksilver flow. Add it up and you have an album that can support cameos from both ex-Rage Against the Machine frontman Zach de la Rocha and ex-Three 6 Mafia rapper Gangsta Boo. The latter, incidentally, comes on a sex rap that practices equal opportunity while piling on raunchy details.

Seun Kuti, A Long Way to the Beginning

As Jakob Dylan or Sean and Julian Lennon could tell you, making music under the shadow of a legendary parent isn't easy. As the youngest son of Afrobeat creator and political firebrand Fela Kuti, Seun Kuti's cross would seem especially hard to bear. He's managing just fine, though, in part because he inherited Fela's band. He's also absorbed his dad's vision and, in some ways, improved on it: "Black Woman," the soulful closing track on Beginning, helps clean out the bad taste left by Fela's condescending "Lady."

Seun's taste in producers helps too. While From Africa with Fury: Rise (2011) featured production from Brian Eno, the Nigerian musician turned to jazz-hip-hop cross-pollinator Robert Glasper for his latest album. Together, they concoct a denser, faster and more abrasive take on the elder Kuti's meld of funk, jazz and High Life. You might think of it as Public Enemy to Fela's James Brown.

Drive-By Truckers, English Oceans

The Drive-By Truckers have gone through two major crises in the course of their 18-year career. The first, which led to the firing of singer-guitarist Jason Isbell, produced the masterpiece Brighter Than Creation's Dark (2008). The second, which caused bassist Shonna Tucker and guitarist John Neff to quit, produced English Oceans, the Truckers' best album since Brighter.

It's tempting to infer that the band's internal struggles seeped into the album's songs: More than usual, Patterson Hood and Mike Cooley's lyrics focus on fraught, complicated relationships. What's more important, though, is that the two songwriters delineate those relationships with humor, wisdom, respect and solid tunes. Two acidic portraits of political hustlers provide some socio-cultural perspective. The two songs that bookend Oceans--Cooley's tough-talking, hard-rocking "Shit Shots Count" and Hood's majestic "Grand Canyon"--provide uplift.

John Nemeth, Memphis Grease

If you like your soul music with two dimensions or less, go ahead and buy St. Paul and the Broken Bones' much-hyped Half the City. If you want the real thing, pick up the latest release from one of Boise's favorite sons.

On Memphis Grease, John Nemeth joins forces with The Bo-Keys, whose members have played with Rufus Thomas, Al Green and Otis Redding (bassist Scott Bomar also scored the great 2005 hip-hop film Hustle and Flow). Nemeth's smooth, nuanced vocals almost steal "Crying" away from Roy Orbison. Also, you might wonder who wrote songs like "If It Ain't Broke" and "Keep the Love a Comin'" until you check the album credits and see that the man did himself. (Sidenote: Nemeth didn't write this one. Otis Rush did.)

St. Vincent, St. Vincent

Annie Clark, a.k.a. St. Vincent, has been dropping so many jaws lately that her music and videos should come with a warning label from the American Dental Association. She stunned viewers and critics with her cover of Nirvana's "Lithium" at the 2014 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony. Last February, she released her most accomplished and accessible album to date.

On St. Vincent, Clark wraps her idiosyncratic lyrics and playful, alluring vocals in bumptious beats, mind-warping noises and loads of irresistible hooks. It's too bad that Lady Gaga already used the title Artpop: This album embodies the concept better than almost any in recent memory.

Sylvan Esso, Sylvan Esso

While St. Vincent kicks down the door, Sylvan Esso sneaks in through the window. Amelia Meath's sweet coo and grounded lyrics ride atop Nick Sanborn's waves of sinuous beats and quirky synthesizer hooks. This spare, clever electro-pop may seem unassuming at first, but these songs will stay stuck in your head for days if not weeks.

Wussy, Attica!

Is Wussy, as Robert Christgau claims, "the best band in America?" It's debatable, but the case for this Cincinnati, Ohio-based indie-rock band gets stronger with each new album.

Wussy's latest, Attica!, is its best yet. Front-people Lisa Walker and Chuck Cleaver have never sung with more confidence or delicacy. A beefed-up rhythm section and some distorted slide add heft and bite to the duo's surefire melodies and droning guitars. Thanks to the power and beauty of the music, Walker and Cleaver sound triumphant even when they compare their apartment to a prison cell or sift through the ashes of their burnt-down home.

Angaleena Presley, American Middle Class

Sturgill Simpson may sound like Waylon Jennings, but his hit record Metamodern Sounds in Country Music has more in common with Youth Lagoon's The Year of Hibernation. Both albums let listeners indulge a fantasy of escaping from this mean old world.

With Angaleena Presley's American Middle Class, such opiates for the masses aren't on the menu. Instead, you get 12 songs that combine the down-home feminist sass of Loretta Lynn (or Presley's Pistol Annies cohort, Miranda Lambert) with the tough-minded yet compassionate class-consciousness of Merle Haggard. Presley may have sweeter tunes and vocals, but she hits just as hard as Lee Bains III or the Drive-By Truckers.

Jessica Lea Mayfield, Make My Head Sing

Great rock and roll takes risks. On her latest album, Jessica Lea Mayfield takes a couple of large ones. Singing softly and carrying a big guitar, she ditches her earlier folk sound and unleashes all the grungy thoughts and noises in her head. She gets support from husband Jesse Newport's steadfast bass and Matt Martin's muscular drumming. Make My Head Sing is raw, tender, brave and beautiful.

Tennis, Ritual in Repeat

"Night Vision," the lead track on Tennis's latest album, fuses the sensual and the spiritual over a hypnotically simple, syncopated drumbeat. It's one of 2014's sexiest songs, but that's just Alaina Moore's warm-up. Drawing from '60s folk and girl groups as well as '70s new wave and disco, Moore and husband Patrick Riley stand up for tender-hearted bad girls and craft affectionate portraits of Vivienne Eliot and a Fundamentalist grandmother. Throughout, they turn three-minute pop songs into odes to female desire, strength and independence.

Various Artists, A Tribute to Bob Dylan in the '80s: Vol. 1

2014 had two excellent Dylan-related releases. One was The Bootleg Series 11: The Basement Tapes Raw. The other was this tribute album, which applies just the right balance of respect and irreverence to the great songwriter's most uneven period. Highlights include Built to Spill's anthemic "Jokerman," Craig Finn's down-and-out "Sweetheart Like You," Aaron Freeman's goofy "Wiggle Wiggle" and Lucius's transcendent "When the Night Comes Falling from the Sky."

The Old 97's, Most Messed Up

"We've been doing this longer than you've been alive," Rhett Miller sings on the first song. You wouldn't know it from the way these alt-country stalwarts kick out the jams on their tenth studio album. With amped-up tempos and unfailingly catchy tunes, they get drunk and get it on like a bunch of freshly minted 21 year-olds. Is it really better to burn out than to fade away? Looks like The Old 97's will find out.

Honorable Mention
Wovenhand, Refractory Obdurate
Frazey Ford, Indian Ocean
Dave Alvin & Phil Alvin, Common Ground
Bob Mould, Beauty and Ruin
Robert Plant, lullaby and... The Ceaseless Roar
Desert Noises, 27 Ways
The Both, The Both
Eyehategod, Eyehategod
YOB, Clearing the Path to Ascend
tUnE-yArDs, nikki nack
White Lung, Deep Fantasy
Brandy Clark, 12 Stories
Peter Murphy, Lion
Badbadnotgood, III
Thompson, Family
Aan, Amor Ad Nauseum
Azealia Banks, Broke With Expensive Taste (note: This one came VERY close to making the top 14 list. If you have any feel for hip-hop, check it out. Aside from a surf-rock parody near the end--seriously, WTF?--this album is stunning.)

You can find info on Facebook and elsewhere online. And if you haven't done it already, follow HCTD on Facebook to keep track of what I'm up to. (You'd think it would've dawned on me to mention that a couple years ago...)

Wild Belle, Saint Rich and Hey V Kay @ Neurolux (9/19/13)

Some of my co-workers at the Record Exchange turned me on to Wild Belle (for a while, it made the regular rotation of CD's played over the store's stereo).  I liked what I heard enough to put this show on the calendar.  The chance to see Hey V Kay again was a nice little bonus (well, not so little, actually--I've put Gut Wrenching on the stereo a few times, and the listens re-convinced me of its excellence).

I counted about thirty-five people when I got to Neurolux.  When Wild Belle played, I counted about eighty.  And actually, the crowd might have been closer to ninety or ninety-five.  A very respectable turnout.

Hey V Kay opened the show.  A few songs into the set, a friend who'd never seen Karen Havey before asked me why she isn't huge in the music scene right now.  I didn't have a good answer.  "Middle-Class Sweetheart" and "Call It" (the song she debuted at the Crux show last June) sounded as tuneful and hook-laden as I remembered, and Havey's gorgeous vocals did well both by them and by her older songs.  Not only did my friend get to hear Havey's "Wicked Game" cover, she got to hear her "Toxic" cover too.  I guess I know what to get my friend for Christmas now...

Saint Rich, a five-man band from New Jersey, played next.  I came up with two different ways of describing this group's mix of ringing guitars, slinky rhythms and nasally, deadpan vocals.  The first is a sweeter, friendlier Strokes.  The second is a less interesting Soft White Sixties.  Which one you prefer will probably depend on your affection for 60's hard rock (and possibly for Delicate Steve, two of whose members are in this group).

Wild Belle closed out the show.  Whenever one of my co-workers plays something... not quite to my taste, shall we say, I just try to remember the good stuff that they've introduced me to.  Like this, for instance.  This Chicago group's blend of skanking reggae grooves and sunny, soothing pop fit together like rum and Coke.  Natalie Bergman's honeyed, lightly smoked vocals topped it all off.  The dance floor was packed and bubbling for the entire set.

You can find info on these groups on Facebook and elsewhere online.  Special thanks to Neurolux and the Record Exchange.

Boise Weekly Review: Lauren Mann and the Fairly Odd Folk, Holly Johnson Loves You, Starlings Murmurations and Kevin Schlereth @ Neurolux (7/25/13)

photo by Tyler Carney

“You guys can join us up here if you want,” Lauren Mann told the 15-person crowd at Neurolux near the start of her set.

No one moved. However, the song that followed the Calgary musician’s invitation earned a round of loud applause.

In spite of a meager turnout, Lauren Mann and the Fairly Odd Folk delivered a polished, enthusiastic performance on Thursday, July 25. The audience responded by whooping, whistling and clapping to the beat.

***

To read the rest of this review, go to the Boise Weekly's Cobweb blog.  Special thanks to Tyler Carney for his photos.

Adventure Galley and Blurred Vision @ Neurolux (7/2/13)

As faithful readers know, I don't mind seeing a band I've never heard much about.  Quite the opposite.  And hey, with a name like Adventure Galley, it almost felt like a dare to go see them.

I counted about thirty people when I got to Neurolux.  About forty-five people were there when Adventure Galley played.  A pretty good turnout.

I sat at the bar for a while, wondering why the show hadn't started.  Then I realized that local DJ Vestral was doing his set.  It wasn't too bad at all--your straight-ahead booming, bombastic clubbin' stuff.  I recognized one sample from a TV commercial.  Nobody danced, but that was probably less the music's fault than the unsuitable sunlight and blood alcohol levels.

Blurred Vision's set surprised me.  I haven't cared much for these guys in the past, but they sounded better here than I remembered.  It could have been due to a better mix or better acoustics.  Whatever the reason, I could hear more little layers and rhythmic wrinkles to their simple synthesizer riffs and stomping, steady beats.  Their detached, heavily filtered vocals stood out more as well.  Not that the lyrics seemed particularly important; I did appreciate having my rational mind tickled, however.  The flashing lights, smoke and lasers were nice touches too.  I still prefer Cloud/Splitter and Edmond Dantes, but pretty good nonetheless.

Adventure Galley played next.  At first, their airy synth drones and squiggles seemed a bit like the fluff on the lead singer's pirate hat: cute and fun but not especially crucial.  However, as their material progressed from a blend of surf, disco and New Wave to a more straightforward, Killers-esque dance-rock, they felt more integral.  In any case, their strong beats, snarling guitar, charmingly cheesy keyboards and pleasantly rough vocals got the dance floor to fill in pretty nicely.  If this group comes back, maybe they can get the Dirty Moogs to open.

You can find info on Blurred Vision and Adventure Galley on Facebook and elsewhere online.  Special thanks to Eric Gilbert and Radio Boise.  If you like what you've read and would like to help keep it going, click the yellow "Give" button and donate.  Even $5 would help.

Sallie Ford and the Sound Outside and Finn Riggins @ Alive After Five; Radiation City, Sallie Ford and the Sound Outside and Death Songs @ Neurolux (6/26/13)

I'd liked what I'd heard by Sallie Ford and the Sound Outside, but I'd never seen them play live.  When I saw that they'd be playing Alive After Five, then, I marked it down on the calendar.  I just hoped that I'd take enough notes before converting into liquid form.

There were so many people when I got down to the Grove that I didn't bother trying to count them.  I'd guess that there were at least a couple hundred folks.  When Sallie Ford played, there were maybe a couple hundred more.

I got there in time to catch about half of Finn Riggins' opening set.  Lisa Simpson's voice and guitar sounded as melodious, Eric Gilbert's keyboards as textured and Cameron Bouiss's drums as propulsive as ever.  It made me smile to see about a dozen people dancing, especially a couple of young girls and an elderly Asian lady with a tan Army hat.  The set's last song, "Pannin' For Gold," went out to Eric Gilbert's mom, who couldn't make it to this gig.  Nice fella, that Eric Gilbert.

Sallie Ford and the Sound Outside played next.  Rarely do formalists have both the heart to fully embrace their chosen traditions and the smarts to put their own stamp on them.  One part Wanda Jackson, one part Liz Phair, one part the vinyl-collecting librarian of my dreams, Ford is one of those few.  Originals such as the swaggering "They Told Me" and the sassy, surf-tinged "Bad Boys" sounded right at home next to the cover of Loretta Lynn's "Fist City."  Ford seemed a bit subdued, but her pinched, squealing snarl still struck a nice balance between geeky and sexy.  Her bandmates pitched in with strong, swinging rhythms and yowling guitar.  And if their "Heart of Glass" cover didn't quite fit, who cares?  It's a wise formalist who knows when to leave formalism alone.

Miraculously, I stayed close enough to solid after Alive After Five to make it down to Neurolux.  The show there excited me because it featured Death Songs, an act I hadn't seen in well over a year; the Cave Singers, a Treefort 2012 act I'd missed; and Radiation City, one of my top 10 Treefort 2013 acts.

Unfortunately, I learned when I got there that the Cave Singers' van had broken down, forcing them to cancel their appearance (lotta that going around, seems like--the same thing happened with the Nekromantix about two weeks before).  Radiation City and Death Songs were still on board, however, and Sallie Ford and the Sound Outside jumped on the bill to fill things out.

Death Songs played first.  I likened Nicholas Dellfs to Skip James in my review of his April 2012 performance at the VaC.  Hearing his eerie, quavery tenor and ominous but catchy tunes here, however, I thought that he sounded a bit too pop for that analogy to work.  I toyed with comparing him to Travis Ward at first, but Dellf's sharp cover of Townes Van Zandt's "Lungs" brushed that one aside too.  Works for me: I dig Skip James, but nowadays, I play "Snake Song" and "To Live is to Fly" more than "Devil Got My Woman."

Sallie Ford and the Sound Outside played next.  Third time's the charm: I don't know if it was the air conditioning or the beer or the two-set warm-up, but Ford stepped up her game considerably here.  Her vocal attack had more bite ("You may thinkofmeas just some littlegirlyoumet..."), and her interactions with the crowd felt more open and comfortable.  She even told a joke: "Don't have phone sex; you might get hearing AIDS!"  Meanwhile, the band sounded as smooth and strong as they did a couple of hours earlier, and the enclosed space seemed to give the music more concentrated force.  The dance floor filled up early on and stayed full for the duration of the set.

Radiation City closed out the show at Neurolux.  Their shiny tunes, chiming guitar and misty keyboard sounded just as dreamy, but their lithe, bouncy rhythm section sounded much funkier and more rocking than I remembered.  Also, while I'm loath to call someone's singing "soulful" (really, the word gets used way too damn often), Elisabeth Ellison's moans, coos and wails all but demand it.  "Heart of Glass" would've made more sense coming from them than from Sallie Ford.  Given the savvy elusiveness of their lyrics, however, "Happiness is a Warm Gun" worked just as well.

You can find info on these groups on Facebook and elsewhere online.  Special thanks to Eric Gilbert and Duck Club Presents.  If you like what you've read and would like to help keep it going, click the yellow "Give" button and donate.  Even $5 would help.

The Very Most, PETS, the Dirty Moogs and Hey V Kay @ the Crux (6/14/13)

I've always liked the Very Most, but I hadn't written about them in over a year.  This show attracted my interest for that reason and also because it celebrated the release of their new EP Just a Pup.  The presence on the bill of the Dirty Moogs, whom I also hadn't written about in a good while, and Hey V Kay, one of my favorite local acts, didn't hurt either.

I counted eleven people when I got to the Crux.  The audience would peak at about forty-five, by my estimate.  The Very Most didn't play until around 11:40, but over thirty people stuck around to watch them.  Pretty good.

Hey V Kay opened the show.  Karen Havey told the crowd up front that she'd come down with a cold and apologized if she sounded nasally.  Given her low, breathy singing style, however, I couldn't hear much of a difference.  Indeed, her voice, her melancholy tunes, her dance-worthy beats and Owen Havey's elegant guitar lines all sounded as irresistible as ever.  "Middle-Class Sweetheart" was as impressive here as it was at Treefort, and a frantic, intricately crafted new number matched both it and the older material.  The cherry on top was a swooning, disco-ish take on Chris Isaak's "Wicked Game."  I've said it before and I'll say it again: Hey V Kay needs to do a covers album.

The Dirty Moogs played next.  In keeping with the Very Most's sunny pop sound, the Moogs opted to twee things up here: tinkling keyboards, purposely dinky beats, even an acoustic guitar.  That the songs held up under the cutesification was a testament to their charm and craftsmanship.  Having Gia Trotter sing harmony on "Julie's an Android" was an especially nice touch.

After a DJ set by Discoma a.k.a. Jake Hite, PETS played.  I can't think of any other group that could call to mind both Beat Happening and the Ohio Players.  Melodic, buoyant basslines and smooth, steady drums anchored ringing guitar and high, murmured vocals.  I couldn't make out all of the lyrics, but what I heard didn't threaten to turn my stomach (not even the song about drinking apple juice).  Twee but funky: a very interesting combination.

Jeremy Jensen dropped a bomb near the end of the Very Most's set: he announced that this might be the band's last live performance ever.  That'd be too bad, but happily, he mentioned afterwards that they still planned to record.  Besides, they picked a good show to go out on.  The groove between Jake Hite's lean, swinging drums, Brion Rushton's driving basslines and the Jensen brothers' elegant, jangling guitars felt as lived-in and comfortable as your favorite sweater.  In addition to her usual gorgeous harmonies, Gia Trotter took the lead on "It's Not Unusual" and brought a nice bit of sultriness to it.  Last but not least, the melodies sounded as sweet and fresh as I remembered.  Congratulations indeed.

You can find info on these acts on Facebook and elsewhere online.  If you like what you've read and would like to help keep it going, click the yellow "Give" button and donate whatever you can.  Even $5 would help.

Calley Bliss and Angie Gillis @ the Sapphire Room (Riverside Hotel) (5/25/13)

I would've liked to have attended this year's Ranch Fest, but I needed to stay around Boise this past weekend.  One of my oldest friends graduated from BSU, and no way in hell was I gonna miss his celebration party.  It worked out well overall: the party was fun times (the morning after, not as much), and the open spot in my Saturday schedule gave me the chance to check out this Idaho Songwriters Association show.

There were about thirty-five people in the Sapphire Room when I arrived.  The official count of the evening was ninety, a number that my own count bore out.  Very respectable.

Local musician Angie Gillis opened the show.  If you've seen her tending bar at the Red Room, you know that this is one smart, tough dame (got good taste in music too: I remember her putting on Exile On Main St. one night).  Anyway, I was glad to find that these qualities carried over into her music.  Her breathy vocals may have reminded some of my indie-centric brethren of Cat Power, but her plainspoken, no-bullsh*t lyrics were much closer to Loretta Lynn or Miranda Lambert.  And actually, her singing had plenty of spunk in it too: on one number, she adopted a nice, sarcastically girly screech to emphasize the middle finger that she was giving some guy stupid enough to tell her how a woman should behave.  Gillis came off as a little nervous--she had to turn away from the relatives sitting up front at one point--but her voice, words, solid country tunes and good sense of rhythm still earned some loud cheers and whistles from the crowd (and not just her family either).

Up next was Calley Bliss.  With her polished jazz-pop tunes and yearning, thoughtful lyrics, Bliss went down much smoother than Gillis did.  She had her share of piss and vinegar, though: she capped off her first set with a sweetly, sensibly strident anti-Monsanto number ("Let's bankrupt those suckers.").  The populist in me also appreciated the opening sing-along of U2's "MLK" (Bliss thoughtfully provided the lyrics on slips of paper) and the guest spots that she gave her music students (she wasn't just being nice; some of those kids could play).  But whatever your feelings about her politics, her vocals could not be denied.  Warm, strong, low and lustrous, Bliss's voice may not be the most beautiful that I've ever heard, but it's definitely in the ninetieth percentile.  Throughout, bassist Tom Jensen and pianist Dustin Wilson provided sensitive support.  It's just a shame that I found out about her so late--she'll be moving to New York soon.

You can find info on Calley Bliss on Facebook and elsewhere online.  Special thanks to Rich O'Hara, Martha Hopper and the Idaho Songwriters Association.  If you like what you've read and would like to help keep it going, click the yellow "Give" button and donate whatever you can.  Even $5 would help.

Telekinesis and Deep Sea Diver @ the Flying M Concert-Garage (5/22/13)

I hadn't heard of Telekinesis prior to this show.  However, I took it as a good sign that Deep Sea Diver, one of my favorite Treefort 2013 acts, was opening for him/them.  I just hoped that more people would show up at this show than at the Couches show on the night before.

Well, a few more people showed up.  The crowd numbered about twenty-five when I arrived and included most if not all of Hollow Wood.  By my estimate, it would peak at somewhere between ninety and a hundred.

Deep Sea Diver played first.  Hey, I never said I wasn't petty.  I enjoyed this Seattle band's Treefort set very much, but when I listened to their album afterwards, the ee-dee-oh-seen-kwah-sees of Jessica Dobson's vocals got on my nerves.  Hearing their warmth and tenderness live again, however, I couldn't help but feel like a bit of a dick.  Dobson's joyous stage presence didn't assuage my guilt.  I managed to put it aside, though, in order to enjoy the strong, smooth beats, the chiming guitars, the rippling keyboards and the 60's pop-tinged tunes once more.  Also, not only can Peter Mansen beat them skins hard, I can't remember the last drummer I saw who was this much fun just to watch (grinning, hair-flailing, etc.).

Telekinesis played next.  I listened to two or three songs and thought, "Damn good indie-pop/rock."  Then I noticed how, on number after number, the turbo-charged rhythms, sunny guitars, ringing keyboard and lovely melodies didn't falter or let up.  Then I noticed the unaffected, un-cutesy forthrightness of Michael Benjamin Lerner's breathy vocals.  Then I started thinking that I should change that "damn good" to "damn great."  A lot of people seemed to reach that conclusion quicker than I did: it took about two songs to get them on their feet and in front of the stage.  The band grinned, bounced and clapped to the beat, and the crowd followed suit.

Before I wrap up this post, I have to share a joke that Telekinesis' bassist told during their set: "Why can't they put a statue of Skrillex in the town square?  Because of the wobbly base."  Hey, I thought that that was hilarious.

You can find info on these bands on Facebook and elsewhere online.  If you like what you've read and would like to help keep the blog going, click the "Give" button and donate whatever you can.  Even $5 would help a lot.

There Is No Mountain (2013)

Preface: In case you forgot or you missed it, There Is No Mountain opened for Angel Olsen at Neurolux back on 4/16.  Click here for the post on that show.  Below is a review of their new album.  I meant to get this out sooner, but, well, stuff happens...

The name change made me raise an eyebrow.  "There Is No Mountain?" I thought.  "What, like the Donovan song?  What was wrong with the name 'Ascetic Junkies?'  Don't tell me they've gone all mush-brained and woo-woo."

A listen to their self-titled new album's first track, "Owl Hymn," alleviated most of my fears on that point.  Sure, its lyrics talk about sending out your blood to search the deep end and what have you.  However, between the sprightly beats, Matt Harmon's spiky, dexterous guitar and Kali Giaritta's bright, sweet, strong vocals, the song trounces Donovan's warmed-over folk-rock psychedelia quite handily.  "Well, okay," I thought then.  "If you're gonna go all New Age-y, this is a fine way to do it.  At least they still sound like the Ascetic Junkies."

The next track, "Wave of Taboo," was even more encouraging.  Over a rippling, stuttering riff, Matt Harmon croons about how the titular wave--a metaphor for all of our earthly troubles and insecurities--will not leave him be.  Not that he'll give up without a fight: "Release me, release me," he and Giaritta chant on the blithely raging chorus.  "Aha," I thought then.  "So the world is still very much with them.  Okay, that's promising."

The rest of the album makes good on that promise.  The jittery "Nail Salon" playfully conveys the hustle and bustle of daily life that such establishments are meant to relieve.  "Stories" dreams of shuffling off all the baggage that comes with this mortal coil.  The subject matter gets heavier from there, ranging from the broken glass and broken dreams of "Broken Glass" to "A Blizzard's" vision of the end of civilization.  For anyone bothered by the totemic stuff at the beginning, there's "O! Painted Hills," which casts a cold eye on both "Top 40 fossils" and religious fundamentalism.  For anyone who wants to keep their options open, there's the declaration of agnosticism in "I'm Not Convinced."  Taken as a whole, the lyrics make clear that the sweetness and light of There Is No Mountain's music represent neither pie-eyed naivete nor willful denial.   Instead, they represent a philosophical triumph.

They're a musical triumph too.  The melodies and harmonies go down so smoothly that you may not notice right away how much work has gone into these songs.  The sudden tempo shifts and swinging rhythms add some kick.  Matt Harmon's nimble fretwork makes me wonder if the man did a tour with a metal band or two.  His light vocals may seem tossed off until you realize that they hit the bulls-eye on every single note.  As for Kali Giaritta, her voice reminds me a little of the good girls in those 40's and 50's films noirs: it seems all cute and innocent at first, but then you start to notice its muscle, heat and curves.

All of these elements coalesce in the album's masterpiece, "Good News."  In all of American music, does any other song so succinctly, levelheadedly, lightheartedly and wholeheartedly embrace death, loss and the meaninglessness of existence?  If so, I haven't heard it.

The same old windy whisper that tells the fruit to fall
Has blown into my bedroom, leaving word behind: "This is all."
But when I look around, I notice I've got everything,
That there's no difference between the joy we leave with and the joy we bring.

Paired with a fully blossomed tune and as sung by Giaritta, this becomes almost as perfect in its calm beauty as John Keats's "To Autumn."  I can't imagine setting Keats to a bouncy African beat, though.  Simply put, this is one of the greatest songs I've heard in my life.  And it helps make There Is No Mountain one of the best albums that I've heard this year.

You can find info on There Is No Mountain on Facebook and elsewhere online.  Their album is available now on Bandcamp.

Little Barefoot and A Sea of Glass @ the Crux (5/6/13)

A Sea of Glass had impressed me greatly when they opened for Garage Voice back in November, but I hadn't seen them since.  That gave me a good reason to check this show out.  It helped as well that I'd never seen or heard Little Barefoot before.

I counted a little over twenty people at the Crux when I arrived.  Unfortunately, Cary Judd had already played by that point.  Oh well.  I'll see his band, the Blaqks, soon enough.  Besides, I guess it's kinda refreshing to have a show start before its advertised time (the Facebook event page said 9 PM).

A Sea of Glass's set reconfirmed my good opinion of them.  Their angelic vocals, ringing keyboard, serene violin, driving drums and rubbery bass flowed together with impressive ease and assurance.  Their bittersweet lyrics and melodies and their polished arrangements would sound sharp coming from bands twice their age.  It's funny: I like to think that I pay close attention to the music scene around Boise, and it just feels like these guys popped up from out of nowhere.  Well, in any case, they're here.  And more people should know about them.

Little Barefoot closed out the night.  This Utah band's murmured vocals, soothing tunes, supple rhythm section and gliding violin sounded not dissimilar to A Sea of Glass's.  Their music had an agreeable folk/country tint, however, and their gently clanging guitar and tripped-out distortion added a touch of straight-ahead rock.  The crowd stayed in their seats for the most part but still applauded warmly enough to get an encore.

You can find info on these bands on Facebook and elsewhere online.  If you like what you've read and would like to help keep it going, click the yellow "Give" button and donate whatever you can.  Even $5 can go a long way.