Bombadil is a band and a word that I was unfamiliar with. I did a quick check on Wikipedia and apparently there’s a fellow named Tom Bombadil that is described in J.R.R Tolkien’s 1934 poem, “The Adventures of Tom Bombadil,” as a “merry fellow” living in a dingle close to the Withywindle river, where he wanders, exploring nature at his leisure. Oddly enough, that spirit of back-country exploration is a fair description of the band and their recent release, Tarpits and Canyonlands.
Bombadil was formed by Duke University alumni in North Carolina by way of Bolivia, giving them an international flavor on folk and Americana music. Tarpits and Canyonlands will be released by Ramseur Records, which was the first sign that I’d most likely love the album. The second sign was the second song called “Sad Birthday.” It’s an upbeat piano driven, hand-clap accented number that is brimming with musicianship and raucus energy.
“Honeymoon” is the next song and another standout. Much like “Sad Birthday,” they take a serious theme and marry it (pun intended) with playful arrangements as they question “what lies beyond that honeymoon?” Their sound is a blend of Cat Stevens and The Avett Brothers that will have you tapping your steering wheel, bouncing in your chair, skipping in your step, or otherwise drawing a bit of drudgery out of your day.
Tarpits and Canyonlands will be released on July 7th.
“Don’t you believe the words of handsome men.” Conjures up thoughts of politicians, news anchormen and American Idol hosts, however in this particular case it comes courtesy of the third song on Rock Central Plaza’s new album, At The Moment of Our Most Needing (Paper Bag Records). This is the band’s fourth release and follows up 2006’s critically acclaimed Are We Not Horses—a concept album about, of all things, mechanical horses with real horse feelings.
No surprise, given the subject matter behind their previous release, this Toronto band tends to get the “literary” label thrown its way. A label like that frankly can be a little off-putting, but also leads to the other common reference…the music of Neutral Milk Hotel. And yes, at times, this band does sound like NMH partly because of the Mangum tinged vocals of Chris Eaton and the plentiful horn sections throughout these songs. At other times, the music borders slightly on the baroque, reminding me of Beirut but in a good way. Eaton’s voice takes a little while to get used to and occasionally takes on the characteristics of a wailing dog, but it adds an undeniable element of strained emotion to these songs.
Some of the notable tracks include the previously referenced third song, “(Don’t You Believe the Words of) Handsome Men” and “Holy Rider,” which has some fantastic string and trumpet/trombone sections while “Them That Are Good” kicks off with something similar to a New Orleans style funeral march and lyrically poses a riddle, “when we fall from the light, will it make our darkness bright?” One other thing – the sequencing of the tracks appear to be carefully chosen by the band, and meant for an end-to-end listening experience. There are two instrumental tracks that act as interludes or intermezzos. One occurs following “Holy Rider,” a song that darkly concludes with Eaton yelping “I have lost my way.” An instrumental follows and eventually slips into one of the more optimistic songs on the record, “We Are Full of Light.” The instrumental is well placed to transition the emotion of those two very different songs.
There is a time investment required to gain full appreciation of what is some very inspired indie-folk. Those that are patient enough to understand Rock Plaza Central will be rewarded with something beyond unique.
The Builders and The Butchers are back, so let’s start with some lyrics:
Close your eyes and you draw one more day to a close.
You choose to be alone. You float through your life as a ghost.
And everything heals given time. And everything dies given time.
And the scars run together, mixing the nerves with the blood.
And the soldiers light houses on fire and they burn down.
And all your belongings turn to dirt in the ground.
When your heart’s deep and dark as a well.
And everything that’s golden and green goes to hell.
And away we go kids, for another uplifting collection of tunes from Portland’s The Builders And The Butchers. The thing that initially drew me to B&B on their self-titled debut is how their storytelling transplants you to another place. Tunes likes “Bottom Of The Lake” and “Red Dresses” made me an immediate fan. As evident by the initial verse of “Golden And Green” shown above, Salvation Is A Deep Dark Well sees the boys moving forward with their bluegrass/punk music.
The Builders and Butchers are built around vocalist Ryan Sollee’s Southern-Gothic inspired lyrics backed by a host of instruments, including mandolin, pump organ, violin, stand-up bass, keys and whatever else they could find to bang on or slap together. They revisit the Spanish Civil War on “Barcelona,” a song that features an excellent dose of trumpet that offsets the tension in Ryan’s vocals. It’s a brilliant composition and sign of the band’s progress. “In The Branches” is another winner that features a choir down the stretch, giving it a gospel vibe.
The music blends gospel, country, folk in a bouillabaisse of noise and sound that leaves you on edge, but wholly satisfied. Their bio has this to say about Salvation and I couldn’t have worded it any better: “The story of Salvation is a Deep Dark Well is that there’s joy and celebration through the darkness, there’s light in the hardest of times, and when you reach the bottom may salvation light your way.”
Stanley are a five-piece outfit from South London that found its way in to our inbox a couple weeks back. After assuring me that they weren’t Chelsea fans, I spun their debut EP and my toes were tapping immediately. They deliver a blend of indie pop with hints of folk – and folk tends to hit our sweet spot.
My buddy Moish once described She & Him (The M. Ward and Zooey Deschanel collaboration) as saccharine because it was sweet and just left you feeling good. The same description would also work for Stanley. Fronted by the angelic voice of Hazel, the band eases through the five song EP in effortless fashion. The tunes are wonderfully arranged and leave you in a better place.
No US dates in the foreseeable future, but for our UK readers, they seem to be playing all over London. In fact, there are some pictures on their site from a performance at a place called The Barfly, where I once got monumentally wasted.
Generationals. I don’t even know how to start this album review. Here goes nothing…
So I started riding a bicycle to work. It’s nearly impossible to ride home in a bad mood when you’re commuting by bike. It’s completely impossible when you’re riding your bike listening to a New Orleans band called Generationals.
As I listened to “Angry Charlie,” the album’s second track, I had an intense desire to steer in wide, sweeping turns wearing a huge grin on my face. The song made me want to wave at every passing car and pedestrian. I wanted to give a stray dog a bowl of water and help an old lady with her groceries. I felt like the chubby dude in that Comcast commercial – the one where everyone loves money.
Then “Faces In The Dark” started and my desire shifted from meandering bicycle maneuvers to beach side antics. I want to put a keg in the sand and bat around a beach ball with random strangers. Maybe I’d ask someone to toss a Frisbee out into the shallow waters where I’d sprint, leap into the air and effortlessly make a mid-air grab before crashing into the waves. I’d settle for sitting topless in my cubicle with Zinka on my nose and a margarita concealed in my coffee thermos.
“When They Fight, They Fight” followed and made me want to dance like Carlton on Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. I won’t elaborate much there, but those that watched Fresh Prince understand the side-to-side leg movements and arm circles punctuated by finger snaps.
Con Law is a must-own album for the summer. Catch Generationals on tour, including a stop at Schubas in Chicago on July 18th with Plants and Animals and at Cafe Du Nord in San Francisco on July 27th with Floating Action and Golden Boots.
From the magnificent city of Vancouver (known for its recently vanquished Canucks at the hands of the mighty Hawks) come the sounds of native son Stephen McBean and his close collective of contributors. McBean is better known for his role fronting the psychedelic Black Mountain, but don’t mistake Pink Mountaintops for a “side project.” Outside Love is an ambitious effort that reveals McBean as one of the great arrangers/composers of the day.
Whereas Black Mountain borrows from 70’s psych such as Floyd and Jefferson Airplane, Pink Mountaintops employs the softer 60’s techniques, including those of Phil Spector. Black Mountain kicks out “stoner operas” featuring tracks that extend well into the 8 to 10-minute ranges and there’s always that pounding percussion driving their music forward. In contrast, Pink Mountaintop’s rhythm section is scarcely noticeable, sometimes coming courtesy of a drum machine or a guitar pick. Of course there are similarities between the bands, the dark themes, melancholy lyrics and cynical religious imagery, to name a few.
I do love this record–seemingly for some new reason with each additional listen. There are layers upon layers in these tracks with orchestral string arrangements, choirs, and bridges provided by horn sections. One of the highlights is the opening song, “Axis: Thrones of Love” with its reflection of wall-of-sound and 60’s girl group qualities. McBean, as the narrator, cynically asks his listener “how deep is your love?” while describing his as “cheap and plastic”.
Other gems include the title track, beautifully backed by a church organ and male-female harmonizing vocals, intertwined with skuzzy lead guitar and Andrew Bird-esque whistling. I wouldn’t throw this one on your breezy summer BBQ mix tape because it’s one dark show-stopper. I also really enjoy the country-tinged duet “And I Thank You” along with “The Gayest of Sunbeams,” which could pass for a Handsome Furs or Kills track. The latter includes one of my favorite lines on the entire record, “she rose like an arc in my spine.” The former is accented nicely by soft mandolin. Fans of Black Mountain will love this music for its experimental take on those same dark themes while fans of indie music will love this record for its variety.
Patterson Hood of Drive-By Truckers is set to release his sophomore solo album called Murdering Oscar on June23rd. Killers and Stars, his solo debut, was an acoustic album that sounded like it was recorded in a bathroom. The lo-fi treatment served the album well. It’s a depressing affair that was recorded at a time when Patterson was going through some tough shit. I was expecting similar slow, acoustic sounds on Murdering Oscar, but that is not what greeted me when I pressed play.
Big, ominous guitar riffs roll in like thunderheads when the title track opens things up. You immediately feel the song’s intensity before a grizzled word is uttered from Patterson’s southern jowls. Then the tale of kill or be killed begins to unfold: “I killed Oscar/Shot him in the head/Put the gun in his mouth/ Watched his brains fly out.” Um, okay. Let me start that song over knowing what I know now. And proceed.
The song reminded me Patterson’s song “The Assasin” from Killers and Stars about a professional killer that loses the taste for his murderous ways. On “Murdering Oscar” it’s as if this same character is confronted from someone he’s wronged and relapses back into blood thirst. While on “The Assassin” the character contemplates quitting for good, he is now remorseless and says “I don’t need forgiveness for my sins/ I don’t need redemption for my sins/ Got the satisfaction of a job well done with my own bare hands.”
After “Murdering Oscar” ends, you’ll need to press pause just to catch your breath. It’s like watching a Quinten Terrintino movie where you can’t quite believe the casual treatment of violence and gore. Once recovered, the rest of the album lowers the intensity level on songs like “Pollyana,” “Pride of the Yankees” about Lou Gherig, “Grandaddy,” a song about growing old, and the whimsical “She’s A Little Randy.”
Drive-by Truckers fans will not be disappointed. Most songs would fit in perfectly on any DBT album, but these are Patterson’s and Murdering Oscar is a great step forward from Killers and Stars. Head over to his MySpace page to hear more tracks and check tour dates. He’ll be in Chicago on June 20th at the Metro with Will Johnson of Centro-matic.
John Vanderslice has been a staple in the San Francisco music scene. He’s now put out six albums and, while I’ve sampled most of them, I have never pulled the trigger on a purchase. Something about his sound was too experimental, using too many sound effects. Romanian Names is his first album released on Dead Oceans and its accessibility should expand the Vanderslice audience to include the hipster outsiders like me.
After hearing “Fetal Horses” prior to the release, I was anxious to hear what else Romanian Names had to offer. The beauty of the record slowly crept in after the fourth or fifth time through. Vanderslice’s vocals are warm and his lyrics, provocative:
“Fetal Horses gallop in the womb/ Seeing corpses in an empty room.” And then later: “Elise today your pixeled bloody face/ It seems to me to be finally dead with you him/ So come back to me again/ You’d break everything I have.”
I don’t have the patience to reflect on his lyrics for deeper interpretation, but as I left on a week-long business trip last week, these songs moved me. “Too Much Time” especially struck a nerve and I found myself mesmerized by the lyrics:
Stone by stone/ I left my only home/ And brick by brick/ I woke myself from happiness/ And dead fur and almond wood/ Storm crosses over Mount Hood/ I’ve got too much time/ Too much time gone by/ And I can’t find you if I tried.
Side note: I once lived in a small town on the base of Mount Hood.
I wasn’t expecting to like Romanian Names and this is not the type of music I typically listen to or write about. I am a sucker for poetic lyrics, however, and I guess that’s why Vanderslice is striking a chord with me. Branching out into new musical terrain has never felt better.
The Roadside Graves, a criminally overlooked New Jersey band, is back with a massively ambitious release. After 2007’s No One Will Know Where You Have Been, the boys have landed on Autumn Tone Records which is also home to J. Tillman and The Henry Clay People. My Son’s Home is 18 tunes strong and, while that usually is a signal that a band needs to trim some fat, this album is brimming with alt-country genius from beginning to end.
Each song is unique in sound with exceptional lyrics that strike you between the eyes. For those unfamiliar with them, I would liken their sound to a blend of Felice Brothers, Trainwreck Riders, Son Volt and The Band with a sprinkling of Gaelic influence in the vein of The Waterboys. The band is fronted by John Gleason and his voice and songwriting will have you believing the man has lived a number of lives.
In a day, where America spends countless time voting on their next plastic wannabe superstar, our time would be well-spent listening to bands like The Roadside Graves who fill their songs with emotion, heart and soul. Oz and I both have the same favorite track, “Ruby.” This is one of the tunes that has that loose, ramshackle Felice Brothers sound as it tells the story of a man back from war and his love, Ruby. Gleason and Jeremy alternate singing verses towards the end of the tune and the interplay is extraordinary.
On the opposite end of the spectrum is the title track, “My Son’s Home.” Gleason pours every ounce of his soul into the tune with the barest of instrumentation and backing vocals. It’s absolutely mesmerizing and hasn’t lost an ounce of its impact despite numerous listens.
I could rattle off amazing tune after amazing tune which would make this review about 2,000 words long but instead I will just urge you to purchase this brilliant album. The boys will be doing a tour later this summer and will be making their way through Chicago, hopefully with a stop in Shirk’s studio for a session.
The Dexateens take it easy on Singlewide. Building on the success of Hardwire Healing and using a few tricks they picked up while working with Patterson Hood of Drive-By Truckers, the boys from Alabama decide to dial things down a notch on their fourth album. And while the amps may not be as high as the old days of Red Dust Rising, the songwriting has never been better.
Led by Elliot McPherson and John Smith, Singlewide produces a sound more fitting of a back porch than a smoky rock club. I actually fired this up while knocking down a cool one this past weekend. The sun was going down as I sat on the porch watching my monsters romp around and it felt so right.
Songs are structured around the acoustic guitar as McPherson and Smith trade easy going licks. The harmonies that flow throughout the album are effortless and its hard not to imagine the boys on rocking chairs drinking a big pitcher of Lynchburg Lemonade.
The second song, “Caption,” is my favorite. It’s an introspective look at one’s place in life and the lazy guitar lick that permeates throughout the tune sounds half-exhausted as it leaves the amp. A couple other faves include “Charlemagne” featuring slide guitar and “Missionary Blues” with standout lyrics. And to top things off, David Berman of Silver Jews makes a guest appearance on the final track, “Can You Whoop It.” It’s the last song Berman recorded before quitting music in January.
We’ll have a live session with The Dexateens in the coming weeks. Until then, you can Buy it at Amazon for $7.99.
