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EP PREMIERE: Emmy Wildwood “Mean Love”

Emmy Wildwood - Photo Credit Shervin Lainez — Emmy Wildwood – Photo Credit Shervin Lainez

Everyone’s had a broken heart. That’s why songs about love gone wrong are so ubiquitous; as listeners, we crave relatable lyrics telling tales of liars and cheats and unrequited crushes. We make playlists to deal with love’s letdowns, and as we sing along and we might have a good cry or hit the gym to take it out on a punch bag with our ex’s name on it. Either way, there’s no denying the catharsis inherent in woeful ballads and sassy bangers alike. Lovelorn listeners take heed: Emmy Wildwood has arrived with her debut EP Mean Love, a smoldering new crop of post-breakup jams. Over the course of four songs, she skewers toxic relationships, calls out distant lovers, and offers up a healthy dose of how to get over all that and move on.

Wildwood is a force to be reckoned with, and it goes way beyond her savvy, straight-for-the-throat anthems. She’s performed in a wide range of musical projects, fronting punk-rock outfit VELTA and alt-country band The Stone Lonesome and appearing regularly as “Lizzy Strandlin” in all-girl Guns N’ Roses cover band. And that’s just her sonic resume; she’s worked in fashion for years, both as a stylist and as proprietor of Tiger Blanket in Williamsburg. She also operates a record label of the same name, which will release Mean Love on June 24th. Not only did we chat with Wildwood about her EP, her songwriting process, Alfred Hitchcock, and the harsh realities of dysfuntional relationships, AudioFemme is pleased to present an exclusive streaming premiere of the record. Check it out below while you read Emmy Wildwood’s words of wisdom.

AUDIOFEMME: Congrats on the EP! We can’t wait to share it with the world; the songs have such irresistible hooks, and your voice is incredible. In your words, what describes the sound you’re going for on your solo project?

EMMY WILDWOOD: Well, I have a primarily punk background – I am from Tuscon, Arizona, and there’s not a lot of people, kids particularly, playing music. Except for boys, and boys played punk, where I was from. So I learned to play power chords and punk stuff early, so that I could be in bands because there was no one else playing in any other kind of band back then. So I’ve always played punk, and then I got into more distinguished music later, so there’s sort of an influence of pop singer-songwriters and things like that. But for me it always comes back to rock n’ roll and punk so I would say that that’s pretty prevalent in the voice. Even though there’s a pop sound it’s always pretty driven by a lot of nasty electric guitar sounds. I would say it’s electronic pop with a very punk feel.

AF: It definitely hearkens back to the era that produced great punk rock-inflected pop acts like Cyndi Lauper and Blondie. You use vintage drum machines to achieve that sound?

EW: We sure do. I had this idea that I wanted to just do electric guitar and electric drums, [/fusion_builder_column][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”][particularly] LinnDrum, which is like a seventies big honkin’ horrible hugely heavy drum machine. Prince used it on his Dirty Mind album which is the one he made in his living room and it sounds really gnarly and grungy and I wanted to make something like that. LinnDrum is a big part of where this project started.

AF: So when you’re recording these songs, is it primarily you at home, alone? I know you’ve had some producers come in and work on it as well, but as far as the recording process, how do you go about that?

EW: I cut a bunch of demos on my own over the last couple of years, just electric guitar and voice. And I sent this new set of songs to my friends Zach Jones and Greg Mayo. Zach and I were in a three-piece garage rock trio called VELTA. He’s in this big pop band called Great Big World – they have that song “Say Something” with Christina Aguilera – and he got this huge drumming gig and has been touring a lot, and Greg plays with everybody in New York. They’re both amazing producers, they both play a bunch. They’re really good friends of mine. I’ve known them for a long time and they knew I wanted to do this and they’re huge Prince fans, huge pop fans, and I’ve played with them for so long I felt like they knew me so well so I called them up to help me make this particular sound happen cause I knew it wouldn’t take too much to make them understand what I was trying to do.

AF: So it made sense to approach them because you’d had so many prior conversations about how you wanted your solo stuff to sound?

EW: Yes. And just like, having been friends with them, we had common love of the same sort of stuff. It was one of those things where you don’t really have to have a conversation, somebody just knows you, and knows what you’re trying to get across, it was a lot of that cause they’re such good friends. And I respect them both musically so much. They both have amazing taste. I understand melody, and rhythm and ideas, and I’ve been doing this a long time, but they’re like really studied. They have all the stuff in the library, they can make anything I wanted to happen, happen. They’re really amazing musicians and they were incredibly important cause I definitely couldn’t have done that on my own. Especially some of the weirder, more creative stuff that’s on there that’s bizarre-sounding.

AF: Well how about the writing process? You mentioned that you had demoed the tracks before you even went to them, and I think there’s a lot of really interesting concepts and themes within the record, so can you tell me more about where you were as you were writing this and influenced the material?

EW: I had a lot of demos from sort of a tumultuous last two years. Definitely driven by breakups, I will say that. Also a lot of changes. I moved out on my own for the first time after a big breakup and I wrote probably 35 or 40 songs that weren’t being put to use. I had this sort of collection it was really hard to choose; I picked three of those songs that I wrote and I demoed those out. “RVR LVR” was the fourth one which I brought to the space. We were gonna do another, sort of heavy tune that I had written called “Rosewater,” and they were like, “Man, do you really want this EP to be like, this heavy? Don’t you want something like, super fun on the record?” And I was like, “Well… I have half of a super fun song.” I didn’t have a lot of “super fun songs” written, you know what I mean? I was dealing with some health stuff too. So it could’ve been this really really heavy EP but they sorta helped me put this more fun spin on the whole entire thing because they co-wrote this fourth song with me. Because of them of them I have an EP which made my life a little bit more fun that what was going on.

AF: I think lyrically, these songs are definitely dark and heavy in subject matter, but I feel like they’re written so poetically. That’s maybe too flowery a term, because there’s also a lot of anger and bite there, but its not like you’re calling anyone specific out. A lot of times you’re blaming yourself in these situations as much as you‘re blaming another party. And it’s so straightforward, so uncomplicated – just a collection of these charged phrases that feel very powerful as a whole.

EW: Lyrically, I’m always really honest. Some people worry about things coming off a certain way. I don’t like to be shocking on purpose, but if my honesty is shocking that’s cool to me. I like to say things in a way no one’s ever heard before, I like to play things in a way people haven’t heard before. I mean I guess that’s what we’re all trying to do. Lyrically I was just really honest and really proud about that and lyrics are something that I’ve always put a lot of time into. It’s something that’s really important to me because I listen to lyrics very intensely. The words make me feel much deeper about the music. I didn’t even know that I was blaming myself as much as I was blaming myself until you said that but that’s totally true.

AF: Well a lot of what you’re referencing on this record, particularly on the first two tracks “Mean Love” and “Stung,” are really relatable scenarios. We’ve all been in a dysfunctional, toxic situation, either with a lover or a friend or even in business relationships. There are a lot of sycophants out there. And if you spend enough time in those kinds of situations, you risk becoming a sycophant yourself. The lyrics to “Blondes” in particular kind of talk about that. It’s layered under poppy, rock-driven production but the words are very sinister and violent. Can you talk a little bit about the metaphors you’re using? Or should I call the cops?

EW: [laughs] You probably don’t need to do that! I read this article actually, on Alfred Hitchcock, his movies and how he always cast blonde girls because they looked “better in blood” on screen, cause the red stood out better. And it stuck with me for a long time but then it sort of became this thing, this imagined scenario, this song. This one I would say is less autobiographical, although it always becomes that, somehow, for me, relating it back to a personal situation. The song tells a story of a relationship where one partner is angry at somebody besides the person they’re taking their anger out on. I just used that metaphor of the blonde girl as the other girl. It’s a violent song because I’m comparing that to a horror film, but that’s where that metaphor came from. Don’t call the cops, it’s all good.

AF: I have read a little bit about Hitchcock’s relationship with Tippi Hedren, who starred in The Birds and some of his other movies and the reality of his behavior toward her is more terrifying than most of his actual movies I think. He was really obsessed with her, and did terrible things to her…

EW: Yeah, he pushed her. That’s the whole thing. I feel like we sort of do this to each other in relationships, it’s this recurring theme. He pushed her to get an emotion out of her that he needed to draw power from, that the movies maybe drew power from. Just to make it more passionate, more emotional, he pushed her to these extreme places to get something out of her, and was also totally obsessed and in love with her. I was totally fascinated by that whole concept of pushing somebody and all of that sort of obsession and craziness that follows love.

AF: Obviously it’s a painful thing to have a romantic falling out with someone or a separation, but especially having now channeled all of that into the EP, do you feel like that’s a thing that has pushed you and been transformative?

EW: It did push this EP. I had a really significant twelve-year breakup. I was with someone since I was a teenager. But “RVR LVR” is actually a happy song, and “Stung” is heavy but it’s a happy song too in the sense that it’s [about] falling in love again and learning to trust somebody again and somebody loving you even though you’re, sort of, to put it UN-poetically, screwed up, or not as strong as you feel like you were. It’s really hard to go into a new relationship when you had an idea of what your whole life was gonna be like, constantly evaluating every new thing, [thinking] is this hard because this is not right, or is this hard because I thought it was gonna be another way and it’s a different way? And someone being patient with you through that. “Stung” is definitely about being in love again and someone loving you through something hard like that.

AF: You mentioned “RVR LVR” – that’s a definite favorite of mine. It almost gives the whole EP a fairy-tale ending, not just for the mythical imagery of someone rising out of the mist so-to-speak, but it’s also a breath of fresh air after all the weightiness.

EW: Good! It wasn’t the last one we did, but it was the last written. I was so excited to have it because it just sort of rounded off the EP in a way. I hadn’t seen a close to where it was gonna finish off. I didn’t know if we should do five songs or six songs or three songs or a mixtape. And then we wrote “RVR LVR” and I was like “Oh! It’s these four. That’s it.” And the guys felt that too. It was just understood, and we all felt the same way. So it was sort of a breath of fresh air to the EP in general just sonically. “RVR LVR” is about the fun stuff. It’s about like, going out and getting someone and winning someone over, so there is happiness to it. There’s a lot of honest things about what it is to break up and fall in love again and evaluate yourself through it and evaluate your partner through it.

AF: So what ended up happening to these other songs? Will they go onto an album or is it time to put that phase of your life behind you and move on? I’m sure you’re still writing new things.

EW: Where do all the lost songs go? You know, a lot of people in their lives have concentrated on being like, the best guitarist in the world or being the best singer in the world. I wanna be a great singer and I’m always trying to get better at guitar, but for me it’s always been about writing the song. I wanna have the perfect ‘song moment.’ I write so much – that’s really what I spend my time doing, almost to the point that it doesn’t feel like a choice. I don’t sit down and practice, I sit down and write. [I have] a lot of songs that I just have never produced. They’re just floating somewhere in my hard drive. I don’t know if they’ll be significant to any particular project in the future, but you never know. Actually, [with] “Mean Love” I had the chorus for a long time, and it just shaped up two years ago. But there are a lot of songs that maybe will never be heard by anyone besides my pug, Pilot.

AF: Then again, maybe you have something that’s rolling around in the ether that will be a huge hit.

EW: That would be great. You know, I feel like things like that are always surprises. There are songs that are still my favorites that I wrote, you know, seven years ago, that I think are cool songs that maybe I’ll use an idea from eventually. With the EP, to bring it back to the theme behind it… for me it’s like I’m only able to reflect on things once they’re processed. I’m like a lot of emotional human beings [in that] when things are really difficult I can’t even pay attention to them. I went through this breakup a while ago, like three years ago. I had trouble even talking about it for a really really long time. It’s something I will never forget because it has shaped a lot of these last few years for me but I’ve moved forward in a really great way. I like to reflect on the dark things and my innermost secrets and my weird feelings. I’ll always be a little dark in my writing but as far as that chapter being closed, it’s closed, and it’s cool to have this EP, listen to the songs, and be like “Holy cow, did I write that?!”

AF: Would you play these songs to your ex? Do you think he’s heard them?

EW: I have no idea. That’s pretty funny. What’s funny is these songs aren’t even particularly personally about him but more about what resulted because of him, and things that have happened since him. I don’t even know what he’s thinking. I don’t really care. I have a boyfriend now who is amazing. Actually, he co-wrote “Stung” with me. He’s a singer, too and a music writer, like you. He gets it.

AF: So I’m really interested in what you’re doing over at Tiger Blanket. It’s both a record label and a clothing store?

EW: Tiger Blanket is a label that I started a really long tome ago. It was just sort of a fantasy. Any record I made on my own or with friends we would put out under the Tiger Blanket label, but it really came into fruition a few years back with a country music project that I was in, believe it or not, called The Stone Lonesome, that we put out on vinyl. And then I realized that this label needed to be a vinyl label, because I love vinyl, and no one was buying CDs. People were collecting things in limited runs which were something that I liked in particular. Then when I opened my store in Williamsburg it all just came together. I’ve always worked in fashion to make money – cause we all know how profitable music is – so I’ve always worked on styling and [finding] vintage stuff. It became a lifestyle concept – you buy the outfit and you buy the record that you wanna listen to while you get ready to go out to see the show that you’re gonna go see. Unfortunately our landlord has followed the trend of this neighborhood and bumped it all up. So we have to find a new home, location TBD, so right now we’re focusing primarily online. But we’ll have a new release in August and out first piece of clothing specific to the brand that is our own in-house design in August as well.

AF: What records, other than your own, have you released so far?

EW: Last year we released Mother Feather, do you know that band?

AF: I actually do, we booked them for our Scene X Sound event! They’re playing June 26th in LIC on the roof of the Ravel Hotel.

EW: Oh, awesome! They’re kick ass. We also put out Erin Mary and the West Island, sort of a sixties-sounding vibe. She wrote the whole record from the voice of a dead little girl ghost.

AF: Ooooh, creepy.

EW: Yeah, it’s very creepy. I love these sort of conceptual groups and bands, and it has been all girls so far which was not necessarily my intention, but I just put out what I liked and what came in front of me, and what I created a bond with, music I fell in love with and I put it out. I have a few bands in the works, but we’re just seeing how those projects shape up right now and we’ll probably do another release in the Fall.

AF: I have no idea how you find the time to do all this! You’re also in a pretty cool cover band, I hear.

EW: Oh, right! Guns N’ Hoses! Yeah, we play a lot, our next show is June 28th at Bowery Ballroom. I joined two years ago, maybe more that that now. We started by playing all of Guns N’ Roses Appetite for Destruction album and now we’re doing Use Your Illusion as well. It’s wild, because I liked Guns N’ Roses… it was on the radio when I was a kid, I loved their performance, I loved Axl – I thought he was frickin’ bad ass. But joining this band made me get way deeper into their music and see how cool they really were and what they were doing was super innovative. I got way deeper in the catalogue and if anything it’s made me a way better guitar player. It’s harder stuff than I was used to playing – punk rock songs and Nirvana and Weezer – it’s not the same stuff. So it made me a better guitar player, that’s for sure.

AF: GNR, and that type of hair metal rock n’ roll in general, has been pegged from the get-go as both innately masculine but also sort of goofy. It’s macho but almost to such an extreme that it’s kind of a joke. As a group of women playing that music, how do you feel that changes it?

EW: We put on a show, we try and play our characters. We curse at the audience, we drink, we jack on stage, it’s all part of the show. It can be incredibly goofy. As far as us being girls doing it? I don’t know, maybe it sheds light on how ridiculous it really is. But really I think things always sort of come back to the spirit of that band. They were just nuts. They were crazy, they were living up what people really think is the insane rock n’ roll lifestyle and they fully embraced that and they were super proud to be gross and wild and addicted and promiscuous… I mean that’s what half the songs are about. It is a novelty because we’re all girls and they weren’t, but we hope that people come and they’re impressed by the playing, which they usually are. We do it because the songs kick ass, and we do it cause it’s funny and because people like it. We didn’t think it was gonna be as big of a deal when we started it as it turned out to be.

AF: People love their cover bands. Particularly with the era GNR came from, playing that genre… there aren’t a lot of modern bands that have that sound, and people who listened to bands like that in their heyday are barely interested in new bands doing that anyway. They want to hear those classic albums.

EW: Oh Yeah, I mean it’s fans of Guns N’ Roses coming. They don’t care… I mean, they think it’s cool we’re girls, but it’s fans that wanna hear the songs played live, that’s for sure.

AF: That sounds totally awesome. In terms of your solo project, though, what are your hopes for the EP? Where do you want to see it go, who do you want to hear it?

EW: This! These conversations are what I would like to have happen. Someone to hear something, think it’s cool, spend the time actually reading the lyrics and seeing that maybe it’s surprising compared to how it sounds sonically. If this happens like twenty times or ten times or five times, that would be really satisfying to me. And if the songs go somewhere else, sneak into a television show or a commercial, that would be wonderful too. I won’t make any big plans for them because I believe they will find their audience. I think we’ll be playing them [live] in July. That’s the first show.

AF: What will your live performances entail? Will you play with a full band or will it be a more stripped-down solo performance?

EW: It’s definitely me, Zach and Greg. Zach plays drums and synth stuff, Greg’s a guitar player and plays some synth stuff, and I’m gonna play a little electric guitar, some songs with and some without. But I will tell you that all three of us are fairly raucous performers and the live show is always fun when we get together. I like to lose myself a little bit on stage and get a little gnarly and eat my hair and sweat, all the good punk rock stuff.[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

INTERVIEW: Dan McGee of Spider Bags (+ Track Review “Japanese Vacation”!)

Dan McGee, of Chapel Hill garage rock band Spider Bags, does not have time to grow orchids or build model ships. He works triple duty these days, with a family, a job, and a brand new record, Frozen Letter, due to come out on August 5th via Merge Records. When I called McGee last week, though, he didn’t seem to mind the stress. In fact, being busy suits him: in the early stages of recording Frozen Letter, McGee realized that his wife was pregnant and that he had nine months to get the record finished, but the focus that pressure gave him–and the rest of the group, with Rock Forbes on drums and Greg Levy and Steve Oliva switching off on bass and guitar–led to the Bags’ most cohesive album to date. Here at AudioFemme, we got our paws on “Back With You Again In The World,” the first single off that album, a couple of weeks back, and we were psyched to hear that the Bags haven’t abandoned the sloppy and earnest feistiness that’s always made their music so much fun to listen to. But the musical ESP between the four Spider Bags is no accident, and it’s more apparent than ever on the new record that even when the music is at its noisiest and dirtiest, there’s a complex dialogue going on beneath the surface.

AudioFemme: Congrats on the new record coming out, we’re so excited! What has it been like recording Frozen Letter?

Dan McGee: We started recording in late June-early July last year, with the same engineer I’ve been working with for a while now, Wes Wolfe. I had a lot of ideas for this record and I went into the studio just wanting to see which songs worked together and which didn’t. I wanted to get four or five done. Then, while we were doing them, my wife came to visit with my daughter, and she was smiling a lot, and I was like ‘Oh man, you’re pregnant, aren’t you?’ And she was. So then I realized that I had to think about this record a little bit differently, because I had to get it done in nine months. Instead of doing five songs that weekend we ended up sleeping in the studio and doing eleven. There are eight songs on the record, but we tried three more just to see how they would fit. Actually, this is the closest I’ve ever come to making the record I started out thinking I wanted to make.

AF: So recording it all at once actually had a positive influence on the finished product?

DM: Yeah! It had that external focus, you know? Made me narrow my choices down. Sometimes I think I can get a little too spread out, so it helped that there was a really strict time limit. It was actually the record that I really wanted to make, that I’ve been wanting to make for a while.

AF: That’s fantastic. So what about it makes it the record that you had envisioned?

DM: I had an idea for a cycle of songs. I really wanted to make a record that sounded like a classic rock record, that was mixed like the old AC/DC records, or like Dark Side Of The Moon. I wanted to have songs on the record that would lend themselves to that. There’s only eight songs on the record, you know, and I wanted them to be in kind of a cycle that would have a theme, though that theme wouldn’t be real specific. And I wanted it to sound like a seventies rock record. That was kind of the concept I had going into it, and we got pretty close. I’m stoked.

AF: When you start writing individual songs, are you thinking about the general sound you want to aim for? Do you start with a riff or a chord, or just an aesthetic you want to produce?

DM: Recording songs and writing them is different for me, but most of the time when I’m writing songs I’ll have a pretty good idea–before I actually strum the guitar–what the chorus is, or the melody for the verse. When I start picking through the song on guitar it starts taking on its own life. I don’t ever really go into any specific song with any kind of concept. It’s not the same as a record, where you have to really try to have an idea of what the record is, as a collection. I’ve made a few records now, and some of them are better than others, but I think the better ones are the ones where I’ve had a really clear concept of how the songs relate to each other and how they sound together. I think that’s really important, because the songs that relate to each other are the ones that people identify with, and the other songs fall through the cracks. If I don’t have a concept for a record, I’m not doing all the songs justice. You can’t just put all your best songs on a record, because it just doesn’t work that way. People don’t hear it that way.

AF: Where did you get the idea for the title of the record, Frozen Letter?

DM: It’s from a song on the record called “Coffin Car.” That song starts with an image that I had of walking in the snow and picking up–out of the snow–a big…you know those oversized kids’ magnets that you keep on the fridge? Just the tip of one of those sticking out of the snow, except it’s giant. It’s a pretty ambiguous image. Whenever two words are together, it gives you a feeling, but it could mean anything. It could mean nothing.

AF: What’s the music scene like where you live, in Chapel Hill? Are you a big part of it?

DM: Yeah, I’m definitely a big part of it. When I first moved here eight years ago, it seemed like the musical heyday was kind of in the past–some of the older clubs were closing down, you know, not as many people were involved in the scene–but there’s been an upsurge, and a big part of that has been independent record stores opening again. When I first moved here, Bull City Records in Durham had just opened and that was huge, because it really gave a focal point for musicians and people who like music to hang out. Since then, there’s another record store that’s opened in Chapel Hill called All Day Records. It’s a pretty varied scene. There’s way more rock and roll [fusion_builder_container hundred_percent=”yes” overflow=”visible”][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”][in Chapel Hill] than there was when I first moved here. There’s also a really cool underground noise scene. Synth-driven scene. I feel lucky to live in a town where there’s a really solid scene like that. Even though people play different music and there’s different genres, everybody supports each other, because it’s still pretty small here. There’s not a lot of ‘Oh, I’m not going to that show because it’s a rock and roll show,’ or ‘Oh, I’m not going to that show because it’s a noise show.’ There’s three clubs. You know that if a guy is booking a show at this particular club it’s probably going to be interesting and cool, so you might as well just go.

AF: How did you come to live in Chapel Hill?

DM: I was traveling with a band, I was in in New York, and I had a couple of weeks off. I had friends that I knew from New Jersey who had moved to Chapel Hill. It was kind of nice to come here and relax for a couple of weeks, to be somewhere with a couple hundred dollars in my pocket, sleep on somebody’s couch, enjoy the open air. I met my wife one weekend while I was here and we totally fell in love. A year later I was like, holy shit, I live in Chapel Hill!

AF: How has having a wife and family changed your relationship with rock and roll?

DM: It’s crazy–when I was younger and on the road a lot, friends would talk about having kids and stuff and I would wanna leave the room because I was afraid I’d get the bug. But it’s funny, because at least for me, it’s given me a tremendous amount of focus where I haven’t had focus before. It just enriches your life. It makes things, in an amazing way, have constant perspective. It’s hard because I really miss being on the road. I used to love being on the road and I have a lot of friends all over the country who I don’t get to see as much as I used to. But things change, and I feel totally grateful for my family and lucky that I was able to see this part of life. I can’t imagine not being a father. I have two daughters.

AF: How old are they?

DM: My oldest daughter, Dell, she’ll be three in August. My youngest was born in March, she’s just three months old.

AF: Have they been to any of your shows?

DM: Dell came to a show last year and it totally blew her mind. It was in a bigger club, so she and my wife were standing in the back. She could tell it was me up there and she was totally amazed, and she thought I played the drums because the drums were the loudest. But she was jazzed for the rest of the day, jumping around and singing, totally inspired. But she doesn’t get to come to too many, because they’re usually pretty late at night. And loud.

AF: So what are your plans for after this record comes out? Do you have any hobbies or extramusical activities that you’re excited to get back to?

DM: I don’t have a lot of time, between music, family, and work. I have a lot of interests, but I don’t have time to build ships or anything. Family, music, work. That’s it right now. Maybe when I’m sixty I’ll start growing weird flowers in a greenhouse somewhere.

AF: Are you going to start touring?

DM: Yeah, totally. We’re planning to be on the road–we’re just waiting for a couple of things to fall into place. I want to be on the road as much as possible, to promote this record as much as possible. I feel like it’s the best record we’ve made as a band and I want people to hear it, I want to be out there playing the songs. Nothing’s solid yet, we’re waiting for some things to fall into place. But we’ll be out there, for sure.

AF: Do you like playing live more than recording in the studio, or is it just a totally different experience?

DM: Lately–well, I like them both. I always liked playing live more than recording. In the past, the guys I recorded with wouldn’t necessarily be the guys I took on the road, so we’d learn a song with the band on the road, and then we’d record in whatever town we were stopped in before I lost those guys, and then I’d get back, put another band together, and teach them the songs. But now, with the musicians I have, it’s a totally different process. We record the songs, and if there’s something I feel I didn’t get right when we were recording, we can work it out onstage. The songs have a life, within the three of us playing them together, which is really cool. You can feel a song still growing after we record it. Playing live is a lot of fun especially with the guys I have now. It’s just the three of us onstage, and we have really good communication together. It’s nonverbal communication, where it’s like we’re experiencing something together on this entirely different plane. Very wild.

AF: Your uptempo songs are so high energy, it must be a huge rush to play them for a crowd.

DM: It really is. It’s like this burst of energy that puts everything in life into perspective–like, ‘Oh yeah, this is what I love to do.’ It feels great. There’s a reason why I have two jobs. It makes sense.

Frozen Letter will drop August 5th via Merge Records. To tide you over, here’s the second single from the album, the jangly and raucous “Japanese Vacation.” Like many Spider Bags songs, this track can be read a couple of different ways: at its most basic level, it’s a fun-loving track and unimpeachably simple hook. Behind the catchiness, of course, is something mysterious and even kind of sinister. Lines like Every step is soft and cruel/Like how the raindrops feel/To the swimming pool stick out on “Japanese Vacation,” with imagery that’s ambiguous but vivid. Listen below!

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ARTIST PROFILE: Orenda Fink

We are all searching for something on this earth. Whether it is truth, love, acceptance, or even validation, we’re convinced that the questions we have are deserving of answers. But we spend so much time looking out into the world for answers that we sometimes forget to look within ourselves. Singer-songwriter Orenda Fink’s third solo album Blue Dream utilizes self-exploration first and foremost to answer life’s biggest questions. Prompted by a series of dreams about death, Orenda began writing introspective songs that expressed precisely what she experienced through her dreams. She’ll share those thoughts with the world on August 19th, when Blue Dream is released.

It has been said many times that dreams have varied, and invariably deep meanings, and with Orenda’s new album comes an opportunity for all of us to dig deeper into our own unconscious selves. While her previous solo LPs Invisible Ones and Ask the Night relate to events in her life, Orenda feels as though Blue Dream is far more personal than anything that she has created before. With this album, Orenda finds new ways to cope with immense pain and heartbreak. She truly believes that if we gain a better understanding of death, then we can live a better life — an intriguing perspective that challenges us to dig a little deeper, rather than just continue on, scratching the surface of our feelings. I was fortunate enough chat with Orenda about Blue Dream, as well as her progression as a musician. Here’s what went down.

AF: How would you describe your music and your sound?
OF: I usually use the words melancholic and ethereal for music and sound. I usually write about things that are very personal. I guess it’s confessional in some ways, but maybe slightly a little romantic too.

AF: What affect do you think growing up in the south has had on your music? Do you feel as though it is a strong presence in your songs?
OF: Yeah, I think that growing up in the south definitely had an effect on my music, it’s not an obvious literal musical influence, but it’s not just in sensibilities. I tend to think that the south is kind of romantic. I mean people take issues and they kind of get blown up into these kind of archetypal situations of epic proportions (laughs). At least in the deep south where I come from, and I think I get that flair for the dramatics probably, from the south. But also…you know I think there’s just something about the heat and the humidity there. It kind of holds people, holds emotions in; kind of pulls them together until they’re almost visible, tangible things outside of your own body. You know, like you can…almost have an experience with them. Like ghosts I guess, they’re almost like spirits; and I feel like that’s something from the south that seeps into my work. It’s kind of that true connection with things that could leave you, but they don’t.

AF: Tell us about your upcoming album Blue Dream. What was the creative process like for you, and what are you most looking forward to?
OF: Well the creative process for Blue Dream…I mean it kind of feels like a dream in a way because I started writing it after my dog died. Which doesn’t seem like probably a huge deal for a lot of people, but I had him for 16 years, and we had an extremely codependent relationship with each other (laughs). I mean I took this dog all over the world. So it was really really painful when I lost him. But outside of that, I had this deeper emptiness when he left that was kind of like…in a way, an existential crisis where I realized I didn’t have a framework of how to deal with death. You know, whether it be a dog, or my husband, or my friends, or myself, and it kind of left me reeling for the better part of the year, until I started doing this dream analysis through psychotherapy and during that time I just was having an insane amount of dreams, every single night, and they were all about death. And my dog was in a lot of them, but not all of them. And this went on for about six months, and I felt like I was having the answers or something close to the answers said to me, through my dreams; in a way that I could never have imagined. You know, because in my conscious waking life, I felt despondent and kind of nihilistic about everything at that point. But in my dreams there were different stories unfolding that pointed away from that. It was a powerful time for me and that was when I started writing this record. It’s not necessarily a concept record; it’s not a record about death, or not a record about a dog, or anything like that but these are the things that were happening in my life while I was writing this record. I was just writing and writing and one day I realized at the end of it that I was standing outside of the tunnel looking in, instead of in the darkness and thinking “I think I’m out of the tunnel. And I think I have correctors.”(laughs) So that was kind of what the process was. I think the creative process was going on in my dreams and the writing was just something I did outside of that.

AF: In what ways would you say that this album is different from your last two solo projects?
OF: Some people might chuckle at this, just because of the nature of my writing; but I do feel like this record is more deeply personal than the other two solo records, just because of where I was when I wrote it. You know, when I wrote the other records I wanted to break away from singing about love and love lost which was a big theme of Azure Ray ‘s because I was happily married and I just didn’t really feel those emotions, so I was looking for outside influences with Invisible ones and Ask the Night, you know Invisible ones was heavily influenced by my travels to Haiti, and Ask the Night was kind of like an exploration of southern Gothic folklore if you will, so even though those records related to me in a personal way, they weren’t deeply personal like this record is. This is the first time that I feel like I’ve felt this kind of intense heartbreak of a different nature, but that I had felt during that Azure Ray work.

AF: What is your favorite song on the album?
OF: Hmm that’s a tough one, I mean it’s hard to say because I feel like they do kind of represent different stages of that year, so there’s ones that are more redeeming, and something that are just in the darkness. And so, it’s kind of a journey for me. It’s hard to pick one or the other, but I guess I’d say either “Holy Holy” or “Poor little bear.”

AF: My favorite is definitely “You Can Be Loved” — it’s just so beautiful.
OF: Aww thank you!

AF: So I know that in the past some of your solo music was inspired by Haitian Folk music, is this also the case with your new album?
OF: You know, someone else asked me this question. I’d say probably not consciously, but when I kinda look back at some of the backing vocals, and the treatment for “This Is Part of Something Greater” it kind of has…what I hear as plaintive cries and traditional voodoo folk music. You know, I love the way the women sing and they just belt out these plaintive cries kind of in unison so I think maybe inadvertently I just hear that sometimes in my head as the backing part, without even meaning to. It’s what my ear wants to hear as part of the piece. So I think there could be some unconscious influences in there for sure (laughs).

AF: I feel like many people search for the meaning of life, but very rarely do you hear about someone searching for the meaning of death. So on your journey what did you find, in searching for the meaning of death?
OF: It’s interesting, because I feel like that’s such a good observation, but you know they’re so closely connected, but it’s just that death is scary. It’s horrifying, and that’s why you don’t search for the meaning of death because you don’t wanna think about it. You just wanna think about life, because that’s what’s in front of you, and death is this terrible thing at the end that’s unavoidable but you have to literally deny it in order to live a full life. So it’s really tricky to go down the rabbit hole for the meaning of death, and it was a weird place that I was in but I guess I feel that exploring the meaning of death can help you live your life. Through my dreams I found that I have less of a fear of death, or less of a fear of losing because I don’t feel like anyone can really know what the meaning of life or death is, but I think that through some real searching you can find out what it isn’t. If that makes sense. And I feel like what I do know now is that there is some kind of life after death. What it is? I’m not sure. But I feel like that’s what’s been told to me through my dreams and I think they’re just as good a source as anyone else in the world that tries to tell you what they think, because it’s a direct source from you; your wisdom that you can’t access in the conscious realm.

AF: I read somewhere that you feel very strongly about the idea of human beings healing, through finding their “Interior God.” Could you elaborate on this concept? I’d love to hear more about it.
OF: That is actually a quote from Alejando Jodorowsky. He’s a filmmaker, a writer; he’s made the movies El Topo and Santa Sangre and Holy Mountain. He’s an amazing experimental art film director. He’s also written a lot about spirituality, and magic and art and how they connect. So that quote is a direct quote from him that I just felt like really summed up the work that I had done, the dream work; and the journey I had gone on which is that your Interior God is basically just a way to tap into the source of something that is beyond your conscious mind because our conscious mind only drives about 10% of our actions, our thoughts, our feelings. There’s this whole other welt of something, we don’t understand what it is that is really driving the ship. And I think in that there are some archetypal truths about life and death and humanity and if you can tap into that, that’s your “Interior God.” That’s what anyone who’s ever created any religion has done. Or any kind of spiritual philosophy, I feel like is basically just people tapping into their “Interior God” and trying to essentially translate what their hearing. So I guess that’s why I feel like if you can find that within yourself it’s gonna be the purest source of information. Cause everyone can tap into it. You don’t have to have someone tell you what it is. Not to say that it’s not good to listen to a certain type of religious or spiritual background, but I think that it can work in conjunction to find like a more truthful version of life and death when you listen to your own self. And that to me is your “Interior God.” It’s the collective unconscious, it’s your personal conscious, and it’s tied into everyone that has ever lived.

AF: How have you progressed as a song writer? What are some important lessons that you have learned along the way?
OF: You know, it’s weird when you do this for a very long time, because I feel like you go in cycles that are kind of prolific, and have quality, and a lot of it has to do with inspiration I think, but also there’s an element of craft to it. That I… In previous years sometimes I kind of just scratched the craft element and just went on pure inspiration. So I feel like even though this record is darker than a lot of my other stuff, it’s “poppier” in a way. I kind of like revisited the craft of writing a song. Like the pop structure and I think that’s easy sometimes when you have heady, heavy subject matter. It’s more digestible if you can deliver that in a way that is beautiful and pleasing to the ear, so I guess I learn lessons with every record that I write, but this is where I’m at right now so we’ll see how it plays out.

AF: What are some advantages and disadvantages to being a solo artist as opposed to being in a band?
OF: Well I definitely love collaborating with people. That is where my heart is. But I do think it’s important to release solo records because they are the most self-indulgent type of art. You don’t have to consult with anyone, it’s all about you, but I think like for me, especially on this record; I don’t think it would be fair to another collaborator to even share this material with them. You know, because it is so deeply personal, but I think there is an advantage to having a solo outlet that you can do that, but at the same time I do feel like I am a collaborator at heart, I love working with other people. I feel like mentally it’s really good for an artist because you get to share the creative process, but then you also get to share the heartache, or the celebration, the triumph, all of it. And I think that being a solo artist is a little isolating for me, but I like having the option to do both.

AF: Dead or alive, who would your dream collaboration be with?
OF: Oh Gosh (laughs ). Alive: Dr. John, and Dead: Nina Simone. I actually ran into Dr. John at the Atlanta airport a couple months ago! I got off my gate and he was sitting in the airport wheelchair at the gate that I got off of and I was like: “Oh my God! Dr. John!” And I could tell he was like trying to get help and no one was helping him. So I got up my courage and I walked over and I was like: “Are you Dr. John?” and he was like “Yes.” And then I was like “Do you need help?” And then he was like “Honey, I do need help.” And he said “Would you come stand in that line for me?” And I was like “I would be honored to! (laughs).” So I stood in line for him and I got him help, and he gave me a huge hug and was like “Do you wanna take a picture with me?” And I was like “Yes!” So that’s my weird little Samaritan moment with my biggest idol ever.

AF: You got a picture with him too? That’s so cool! Are there any upcoming shows or live performances that our readers should know about?

OF: Yeah. I’m hopefully doing a tour in September. But we’re still putting that together. So my plan is to do a full length tour but I’m not sure if I’ll be supporting someone or going out on my own so that to be determined. But a tour is being planned, which is something I haven’t done in a while.

Orenda Fink’s album Blue Dream is out on August 19th. Check out her first single off the album, entitled “Ace of Cups,” below.

TRACK REVIEW: Amen Dunes “Lonely Richard”

In 2006, during the Northeast’s creepiest and most beautiful time of year–fall–Damon McMahon started recording his tightly knotted, introspective guitar melodies in the Catskills, never intending them for public consumption. Thus Amen Dunes was born, and thus–essentially–it remains: the music is simple, lonesome and woodsy, with a healthy dose of the otherworldly-creepy sensation you get from spending a lot of time alone with the Hudson Valley’s sinisterly beautiful landscape.

“Lonely Richard,” off the forthcoming album Love (out 5/13 on Sacred Bones) illustrates McMahon’s penchant for interiority–his voice, small-sounding and thick with melancholy, takes a back seat to the guitars, which screech and whine and slide all over this track. There’s a folky simplicity at the heart of it, but much more immediate is the drone of the instrumentals–how the guitar lines repeat and loop over themselves, how the strings maintain such a constant pitch that they lose form by the end of the song, assuming an atmospheric presence that evokes wind, or clouds, or something else just as environmental. The track builds low and slow, then fades away just as subtly. It’s sort of an anti-social number, but the simple chord structure underlying it keeps “Lonely Richard” from being unfriendly.

In typical fashion, Amen Dunes have released a single that reveals practically nothing about the album to come–the track wouldn’t be gripping enough to save a lethargic album or to temper an overly sweet one, but by itself, “Lonely Richard” has a deceptively compelling low-grade catchiness that will, if nothing else, awaken your curiosity. Wet your whistle with “Lonely Richard,” via Soundcloud:

INTERVIEW: Willie Watson

Willie Watson recorded his debut solo effort, the straightforwardly-titled Folk Singer Vol. 1, over the course of two days at Woodland Sound Studios, the studio owned by Gillian Welch in Nashville, TN. In those sessions, he played whichever songs came to mind: the collection features some well-known numbers like “Midnight Special,” along with rarer inclusions such as “Kitty Puss” and “Mexican Cowboy.” The track list has sprawling origins, spanning blues, folk, and rock and roll as well as decades. Collaged together by producer David Rawlings, Folk Singer ambles through its ten tracks with the lowlight unadornedness of a late-night impromptu performance.

And in a way, it is. When Watson split from Old Crow Medicine Show, which he’d co-founded and been part of for a decade and a half, he wasn’t sure where he would end up next. Though he didn’t start out with the goal of making a record of traditional songs, it does seem like kind of a neat return to basics: after a long run with a band that helped define contemporary folk music, Watson’s solo career so far has been an opportunity to revel in the old songs that made him love old-time folk music in the first place.

A couple weeks ago, I got a chance to chat with Watson about his new album, the traditional songs on it, and how he came to love old-time music. Read on for more:

AF: What made you decide to put out a solo album after you left Old Crow, as opposed to forming another band?

WW: You know, it just sort of happened that way. I’ve been singing old songs–folk songs, traditional songs, whatever you wanna call them–for years. Once I was on my own, I wasn’t sure what my next move was–if I was going to have another band, or try to write a bunch of songs. At first, I did start writing songs, but I don’t think I was satisfied with what I was writing. I was starting to do some solo shows, and I had a few songs I’d written, and I would do a mix of those with old traditional songs, at those early shows. I was a lot happier doing those old folk songs, and I think the crowd was a lot happier, too. I thought those were great songs that people should be hearing, and that I wanted to be singing.

AF: You’re in a position to introduce listeners to those old songs for the first time, in many cases. How cool is that?

WW: Totally cool, and I’m happy if I can be that guy. Alternately, if they heard where they came from, they might not want to listen to me anymore. I would much rather put on Leadbelly singing “Midnight Special” than listen to me. It’s surprising, a lot of people might not even realize that these are old songs. I think if they have the record, Folk Singer, and they read the reviews and write-ups, they’ll get it–but I’ve played shows and had people think I wrote all those songs.

AF: You grew up in upstate New York, right? What was the musical community like there?

WW: Around Ithaca and Tompkins County–which is right next to Schuyler County, where I’m from–there’s a lot of old-time fiddle music. There was a banjo player named Richie Stearns and all those guys from Donna The Buffalo, they’re old-time players. There would be a weekly old-time jam every week up there. So I was exposed to that first hand, being around the scene and the music every week. Richie Stearns had a band called The Horse Flies, and they were a mix of old-time fiddle music with eighties pop. They had a drum set and they all plugged in, and Richie Stearns was playing clawhammer banjo. Judy Hyman played the fiddle and would dance around the stage, doing this headbang-y thing with her eyes rolling back in her head. I was about thirteen, and I would see this stuff and thought it was the coolest thing I’d ever seen. It was dance music, and it really moved me in a big way. That was my introduction to old-time music. I knew it wasn’t bluegrass, this old-timey thing The Horse Flies were doing. It was something a little bit different, and it really stood out. I was already listening to Neil Young and Bob Dylan. Of course, at the same time I was also listening to Nirvana, too. They did that Unplugged thing, where he sings the Leadbelly song [fusion_builder_container hundred_percent=”yes” overflow=”visible”][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”][“In The Pines/Where Did You Sleep Last Night”]. I knew my dad had a Leadbelly record in the basement, and I went and got it out. Really, that changed everything for me right there. It was all coming together at the same time.

AF: Were there other kids excited by old-time and interested in playing it?

WW: Yeah. I started a band pretty quick. A lot of the old-time players had kids my age, so they all had guitars. We started a band called The Funnest Game that was kind of the same thing–clawhammer banjo, electric guitar, drums. People liked that we were young and we were playing this stuff, so we started playing shows at clubs when we were about fifteen or sixteen. And they’d pay us. Which was nice! It was like, “Holy cow! This could be a job?!” So I quickly dropped out of high school when I was sixteen.

AF: Did you meet up with Old Crow Medicine Show pretty quickly after that?

WW: It was a few years. I had that first band, and then Ketch [Secor] moved to Ithaca when…I must’ve been seventeen or eighteen. Richie Stearns knew Ketch from the festival scene and he introduced us. Ketch moved up [to Ithaca] and then Critter [Fuqua] moved up a bit later. When The Funnest Game was about to break up, Ketch and Critter’s band had just broken up. They opened together for The Funnest Game and sang together, harmonized, did their duo thing. I was floored. As soon as they started singing, I immediately really badly wanted to sing with them. And so we made that happen.

AF: Looking back on it now, how do you feel about having been a part of that band?

WW: What can I say? It was everything to me, to us. That band was my whole life for almost fifteen years. I wouldn’t change anything. We just kind of grew apart. In the early days we played a lot of old music and not as many songs, although we were always writing. I don’t have any regrets, but I’m really happy that I’m where I’m at now. I’m playing the music I want to play, and it’s real simple, and I don’t have a big light show–I’m in a good place with that.

AF: Let’s talk about how Folk Singer became the collection that it is. Can you tell me the story of how one or two of the songs came to be included on the album?

WW: Anything in particular?

AF: How about ‘James Alley Blues?’

WW: Okay, yeah. That’s a Richard “Rabbit” Brown song, and I don’t know too much of what he’s done, I just know that song, and also he does this great version of the Titanic story. He definitely plays ‘James Alley Blues’ different [than I do], it’s more bluesy, and he’s got all that finger picking guitar stuff. I heard it and I knew my voice would be right for it, but I had to find a different way to play guitar, because I don’t really play blues like that. That open-tuning blues stuff. I knew I really wanted to do that song because it really reached out to me. I related to what he was saying, and what the song was about really hit home for me. So I just had to find a different way to play guitar, you know, find a way that the song could come out of me.

AF: Were there any notable exclusions? Songs you were sure you wanted on the album, but that ultimately didn’t wind up making it?

WW: We recorded over twenty five songs for this album. There’s still a whole bunch of stuff in the can. That’s where Dave [Rawlings] comes in. The idea was just to get in there and sing whatever was rolling around in my head. I had a little list of songs. Then Dave would say, “Okay, that’s great, but do you have anything in the key of C?” Some songs were totally off the cuff, and yeah, some songs didn’t make the cut. Like “Kitty Puss,” that song wasn’t supposed to be on there. When I flew to Nashville to record the sessions, I was listening to that on the plane before I landed. I’d never played it before. I got into the studio and they were adjusting the sound, and the guy was like, “play something,” so I just played “Kitty Puss.” That was the first time I played the song, so I remembered what words I could. I kinda rearranged the words, I think, just because I didn’t know exactly how the guy did it on the record. He recorded in the early twenties, before there were electronic microphones. Back then they were literally singing into a funnel. It was just him and a banjo, and he’d sing a lot of children’s songs and novelty songs. I’d been listening to it for a while. I didn’t expect it to be on the record, it just came out really good.

A great big thank you to Willie Watson for talking to us! Folk Singer Vol. 1 will be out on May 6th, and you can pre-order your digital or physical copy here. Watch Watson perform the first track, the classic “Midnight Special,” below:
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VIDEO REVIEW: EELS “Mistakes Of My Youth” and Foals “Inhaler”

These past few months have brought us two new music videos that showcase the difficulty of youth and nostalgia from bands with animal monikers. EELS, singer-songwriter Mark Oliver Everett’s constantly developing alternative project has released a video for “Mistakes Of My Youth,” off of the forthcoming album The Cautionary Tales of Mark Oliver Everett. This new record hones in on interiority and personal struggle, a good focus for a fairly inconsistent band. The lo-fi melody of “Mistakes” is nostalgic, steady, and bittersweet.

Uk indie quintet Foals’ take on adolescence, “Inhaler,” on the other hand, is rife with wild, passionate movement. Both of these bands seem to be looking back to the early 90s indie rock scene. While EELS’ does so with melancholia, Foals’ channels desperate rage.

The “Mistakes Of My Youth” video hones in on suburban rebellion. Beautiful shots of streets, parks, and backyards frame the world EELS’ youth lives in. He watches old black and white cartoons; he smokes and drinks under telephone lines amid grey skies; he rides his bike around restlessly, listlessly, reminiscing about his childhood with lyrics like “Look back down the road / I know that it’s not too late.” This narrator is attempting to recreate his younger days by “repeating yesterday,” though he knows this is impossible. Behaving wildly as he did when he was younger – graffiti, broken windows – won’t restore his youth. Meanwhile, the boy in the video also represents the invert. He behaves as an adult, smoking, drinking, making out with a girl, in an attempt break free of childhood’s confines, however his angst remains. This complicated juxtaposition captures the spirit of weary teenage rebellion.

Look out for EELS new album The Cautionary Tales of Mark Oliver Everrett, coming out 4/22 on E Works/Pias.

“Inhaler” shows teenagers and Foals as discreet cohorts. A group of kids stand under a train trestle with hoodies, headphones, skateboards, and backpacks. Their rowdiness is palpable, resting just beneath the surface. The band is physically separate from them yet somehow still part of their delinquent resolve. Both groups cop a strong sense of rage and discontent, as if the sentiment itself is waiting to burst out, as opposed to EELS’ sense of emptiness. Here, the youth are full of temper, of resentment. Foals’ vocalist Yannis Philippakis yelps hoarsely and glances ominously at the camera. The body’s import to youth is part of the visual motif: they are attempting to find freedom that is outside of their physical selves and we see them strive for this through acts of physical defiance, through the pushing of physical limitations. Their sense of entrapment to the point of sickness is communicated throughout. Their confusion and rage pulls them together, unites them as a force of movement seeking escape.

Foals is currently on a spring tour with Cage The Elephant and will be making stops at Terminal 5 in NYC on 5/6 and 5/7.

AF LIVE: Emerging artists of 2014, 3/5 @ Spike Hill

Hi all you babes of the interwebs. Festival season is upon us! Tho’ the weather here in NYC isn’t inspiring any vernal urges–like the desire to go running naked in the streets, for example, fret you not: a whole crop of amazing new bands are springing up like chicks out of eggs and we’re delivering them to you personally, live in the flesh just like jesus himself when he rose up from the grave (hopefully these guys taste better than the awful communion wafers they force you to eat in church, however). If you can’t make it to Austin for one of our SXSW showcases, DON’T WORRY WE HAVE ONE HAPPENING IN NYC THIS WEEK!! All the details can be found here. In the meantime, peruse our artist profiles below, to get up close and personal with the talent we booked. Or just come meet them face to face and buy them shots of whiskey for traveling all the way from places like Montreal, just to play for you. Yeah that’s right, you’re welcome.

Hope to see your beautiful faces this Wednesday!

Yours,

Audiofemme

ADULT DUDE:

Adult Dude is a self-defined “rock” band from Brooklyn. Their music combines pop, punk, and alternative elements into short, catchy tunes. They released their EP in July of 2013.

AF: How do you think people respond to the 90s pop punk sound nowadays?

AD: People like what people like. We have had a hard time defining “our” sound, but we like that fact that people from lots of different musical backgrounds seem to be into it, whatever it is.

AF: What are some of your favorite venus in new york?

AD: Probably our favorite NYC venue is the Gutter in Brooklyn. Great room, great sound, great people… it’s also about 10 feet away from our practice space. Johnny Molina is the man.

AF: How did you four meet?

AD: Grindr.

AF: Are people generally disappointed or intrigued by the length of your songs?

AD: We sort of just decide to end songs when we think they’re done. It just happens that the first batch were pretty short. People haven’t seemed too phased by it, but it’s cool we were able to fit 4 complete thoughts on a 7 inch record.

AF: Speaking of length, how long do your shows last with such short songs?

AD: Our set at our first show was probably 5 songs, 12 minutes. These days we’re playing a lot of newer stuff which is longer, so we can fill up a solid 25 now… no band should ever play more than 30 minutes in our opinion.

AF: Is coors light the epitome of an “adult dude”?

AD: It’s harmless, watered down, and shitty. So yes.

AF: What’s your favorite beer?

AD: Whatever the drink tickets will get us.

AF: How do you guys write the music and lyrics/what’s your songwriting process?

AD: Generally someone will bring in an idea and we’ll all work on it as a band. From there we just keep working on it til we think it’s done, or we throw it away because it sucks.

AF: One of my favorite lines of yours is “Sneakin into heaven through some holes”, from “Change” – how did you come up with that?

Manny: I don’t even remember writing that line to be honest!

Watch Adult Dude at Radio Bushwick below:

CTZNSHP:

CTZNSHP is a Montreal fuzz rock – something between shoe gaze, indie, and post punk – group. They’ve played in numerous festivals with big names like Beach Fossils and A Place To Bury Strnagers. They just recorded their debut album Doom Love.

AF: How do you like performing in Festivals like M For Montreal? Is it better than individual shows? Worse?

C: I think it really depends on the night. We have had great festival shows and not so great ones. Same goes for Individual shows. You never really know until you get up on stage how it’s going to go down, what the sounds going to be like or the vibe of the audience, so we try to treat them all the same and not let any of that stuff effect us too much.
Festivals can be kind of a crazy experience. There’s no sound check, you’re using strange gear, there are a ton of bands on each bill, you might not be playing until 3am. They are really fun and exhausting for the same reasons.
AF: Why do you think we’re seeing a rise in the popularity of shoegaze in the past few years?

C: I would guess that since shoegaze fell out of fashion during the late 90’s enough time has passed for it to sound fresh again. Now there is a whole new crop of kids who are discovering bands like My Bloody Valentine, Jesus and Mary Chain or Galaxy 500 for the first time.

AF: I’ve heard you described as “gloomy”, but that doesn’t seem appropriate.. Would you consider yourselves melancholy, considering your pop influence?

C: Ha! I wouldn’t say gloomy although I like that someone did. There is definitely a sense of sadness to our songs and melodies. I like to explore the darker parts of life and relationships because I find them more interesting but there is also a real sense of humor. At least in the lyrics. I think some of them are pretty funny in a dark kind of way. If you are gonna make big loud songs that lean towards anthemic then you have to keep a sense of humor. It’s music for people who are really trying, but just keep fucking up.
AF: Who are some of your favorite emerging bands?

C: We have been in love with Future Islands for the last few years. So far what I have heard off of their new record is awesome as always. We all loved the last SUUNS record too. They are ferocious live.

AF: Who were some of your favorite artists to play with?

C: Opening for the National was a thrill. They were such nice people. We got to play with a Canadian singer named Hayden who Scott and I grew up listening to, so that was a big deal for us as well. We played with A Place To Bury Strangers a while back and I was really sick and had lost my voice. I drank about a bottle of Buckley’s cough syrup before the show and then some whisky on stage. By the time APTBS started playing my head was really swimming and their smoke machines were so intense that it set the fire alarms off and I thought the stage was on fire. I couldn’t move because of the medication.All the while they played some of the loudest most intense guitar rock I have ever seen. I felt like I had stepped into the Black Lodge. It was kind of terrifying.
AF: What’s interesting about “haze” or “fuzz” in music? Do you think it encourages sensation or evocation? Visuals? A sense of dreaminess or calmness?

C: I like the dreaminess of it. It’s kind of like the musical equivalent of impressionist painting. It’s not providing a lot of answers but it is asking a lot of questions. It allows for a lot of interpretation on the listeners behalf kind of like sonic Rorschach tests. It’s fun fitting pop songs and lyrics into that world.
AF: If you could experience your music through one of your other senses besides sound, which would it be? And what would it look/taste/smell or feel like?

C: Taste?
I would hope that it would have a Tex Mex kind vibe.

Here’s CTZNSHP with “Swan Dive”:

BFA:

BFA (Bachelors of Fine Art) is an indie rock band out of New York City. Although much of their sound can be traced back to post punk and new wave bands of the ’70s and ’80s, their pop sensibility reflects that of a group of kids raised on the likes of Pavement, and then later bands like The Strokes and LCD Soundsystem. Shimmering, jangling guitars mesh with soaring synths and gripping vocals, all anchored around an explosive rhythm section that blasts through the crowd of Brooklyn chill wave acts and commands your attention. Audiofemme interviewed Sam, the synth player, and Darius, the guitarist.

AF: How did you guys meet and what prompted you to form BFA?

Sam- We all lived in the same dorm freshman year of college. We all lived on different floors. Charlie, Will and myself were in the same music program at NYU. We met Darius through a mutual friend, and began working on a song in my room that Will had written earlier that year called ‘Josie’s.’ I had a very rudimentary recording set-up, but the song excited us enough to make us want to start a band.

Darius- That summer, Will messaged me and told me about an idea for a band and then a few months later, we started putting stuff together.

AF: What’s the number one thing you’d like to do or accomplish this year?

Sam- We have an EP in the pipes. It’s our first and we are pretty excited. We’ve released one or two demos online but now it’s the real thing. We’ve been working very hard on it and it’s exciting to think about where things could go once it’s out there. In a way, it’s our first major step. How it’s received determines the rest of our year. We plan on performing all over the place.

AF: What’s been your best moment as a band thus far?

Darius – Playing in Connecticut a few weeks ago. It was our first time playing out of the city and it was really enough to whet our appetite. It’s the kind of thing that makes the experience of being in a band, writing songs, practicing, etc. more visceral. It all comes together in that moment and that first glimpse made us all want more.

Sam – The music becomes your baggage that you are carrying from place to place. You unpack the songs for a crowd, and then the next day, pack up what you have and drive home.

AF: What are you guys currently up to? Can we expect new releases anytime soon?

Darius – Our EP is coming out really soon and is almost done. Along with that, you can expect a few music videos. The next step is always on our mind.

Sam – It’s difficult because at this juncture it’s important that we put all of our energy into the present but we can’t completely forget that there is going to be a tentative future release that’s begging for new songs.

AF: If you had to pick a really cheesy song to cover, what would it be?

Darius – I don’t know if it’s cheesy but either “Girls & Boys” or “London Loves” off of the album “Parklife” by Blur. Also, I have a soft spot for Oasis (I’m the only one in the band and everyone else will disagree with me) and would love to cover “Cigarettes and Alcohol” off of “Definitely Maybe” by them.

AF: If you could experience your music through any one of your other senses, which would it be? What would it taste/smell/feel or look like?

Sam- I was reading somewhere about a chef that made a ten course meal to Kid-A. I loved the idea. I’m not sure how our music would taste, but I’d love to know. I’m starting to wonder what sort of dish ‘A Night at the Opera’ by Queen would inspire.

Darius – We’re all big food people. It would have be taste for me as well. I don’t know how that would pan out, but I’d give it a shot.

Listen to their debut single, “Skytanic” and check out upcoming shows to say you were there from the beginning:

LONGARMS:

LongArms is a New-Yorked based Dj/Producer from Miami. He’s worked with DJ B-Tips the past two years as the co-founder of Famous NYC and CROCMODE, a series of DJ session parties held across the city, from the Lower East Side to Bushwick. With influences like Boys Noize, Bloody Beetroots, Justice, and Daft Punk, LongArms hopes to take Electro Funk to the next level.

AF: What got you particularly interested in funk and electronic to begin with?

LongArms: I went through a wide variety of tastes before I recognized electronic music as my genre. I think rollerblading listening to 90’s techno at birthday parties has a lot to do with it subconsciously. Really though, when I heard Daft Punk’s ‘Around the World’ my mind was blown. I also went through a German techno phase, then electronic music progressed so much recently—but I feel like I’ve been producing this kind of music for so long now, if nothing more than a hobby at first. But it wasn’t all electronic at first. I was really into metal for a while, and bands like Finch and Senses Fail.

The artist that inspired me initially to get into electronic music was Ayla, a german techno producer. I also think videogame music has a lot to do with me producing electronic music initially at fourteen years old. I think Koji Kondo is a genius. Other than that I love Enya, Tchaikovsky, Justice, and System of a Down…so my influences span many genres. Still Funk transends pretty much everything.

AF: Which do you enjoy more—producing or DJing—and why?

L: I would definitely call myself a producer before a dj, but I do love to DJ as well. Producing might be my favourite thing to do in life. There’s nothing quite like creating your own universe of sound. Being a creator gives me unparalleled satisfaction. On the other hand having a connection with other people while playing original music is an incredible experience too. I craft my songs to be pleasing to my ear first, then to give a message. If someone isnt playing the music, then the message isn’t received. That being said I’m not necessarily the person who has to be Djing the music, though it is an incredible experience.

AF: It’s been a while since you released your Laundry EP…any plans for future releases?

L: People who know me say I’m insane for making so much music without releasing anything. Its been a little over a year since I released Laundry, and i’ve really just been making so much music that I have yet to release, really polishing everything. My EP “Following Me,” will have three tracks and come out on my birthday April 22^nd. which also happens to be Earth Day. Lets just say I have a ton of music ready to go as soon as the right opportunities reveal themselves. I don’t plan on ever waiting so long between releases again though. I’m also in a collaboration called Vandalay which will be releasing dark deep house music. All good things.

AF: Anything currently influencing you/your music these days?

L: I’ve been taking days off producing electronic music to listen to Jazz or classical recently. I’ve been going back to baroque composers like Lully and Rameau. I’ve been rediscovering artists I never really gave a chance like Miles Davis, Stan Getz and John Coltrane and just get so inspired by the natural sounds. In the electronic vein I’ve been really influenced by Blood Orange and Chrome sparks to name two that pop into my mind. I think everyone can learn something from listening to these two producers. They’ve tapped into something deeper. I’ve also been really into FKJ (French Kiwi Juice) lately. He’s too funky for his own good.

AF: Do you miss Miami? What’s your favorite thing about New York City?

L: I miss Miami insofaras its a beautiful place, aside from that New York does pretty much everything else better. My favorite thing about NYC is probably that I can get anywhere I need to be in thirty minutes. Going to four different venues in one night by walking is an experience i’ve found few other places do as well as NYC. I also like NYCs no bullshit- get shit done – do it yourself attitude. And the pace of this city keeps things very exciting. If you want to know what I mean in musical form check out NY Rush by The Seatbelts, which sums up that feeling really well. I guess the best aspect of the city is how dense it is. There’s a million things to do in a mile radius.

AF: If you could experience your music through any one of your other senses, which would it be? What would it taste/smell/feel or look like?

L: Like this idea a lot. Synthesia is actually the name of a track I have yet to release. Honestly all the other senses pale in comparrison to hearing for me. I think i’d almost rather be blind than deaf. That being said I think visuals that represent auditory sensations are very cool. I love cymatics, which is visual manifestations of frequencies. Feeling music is also a titallating prospect. I’d rather choose them all I suppose, if you wouldn’t die from sensory overload!

Here’s LongArms with “laundry”:

ALBUM REVIEW: Angel Olsen “Burn Your Fire For No Witness”

She’s the one with the haunting warble, sometimes menacing or self-deprecating, but always a bit fragile and always a bit bold. Angel Olsen is a singer-songwriter with a unique talent for forging emotional connections with her listeners—that is, the ability to make any member of her audience freeze, cry, or reach deep into some hollow part of themselves. For her newest album, Burn Your Fire For No Witness, her unwavering self-possession is strong as ever, stretched across more present instrumentation and, of course, her gorgeous crooning.

The album is sensitive, soft, subtle, occasionally sweet, and all together that complexity makes it very human. Her uncertainty about what it means to be lonely, about what she truly feels, is what makes these songs so engaging. This ambiguity makes it easy for the listener to enter that space and recall their own inexplicable melancholy. Her voice is difficult to describe, a bit like folk singer Karen Dalton or Emmylou Harris; shaky, but clear.

Burn Your Fire For No Witness begins with “Unfuck the World.” For such a powerful title, this song is incredibly soft. There’s an immediate sense of interiority, a passiveness: “Here’s to thinking that this all meant so much more / I kept my mouth shut and opened up the door.” But her voice soars in the chorus with a lo-fi melancholy that is just heartbreaking: “I am the only one now / You may not be around,” she repeats and repeats like a mantra, a tiny peek into her aloneness. Normally, break-up songs can get a bit irritating, especially when they harp on a lover’s absence. This song is all personal reflection, rather than a reflection on the other person or even the relationship itself.

In “White Fire,” the track the album is named for, her vocals sound almost dead. The song itself is immediately sad, and there are waves of guitar strumming that paint a dark atmosphere. She tells us herself: “Everything is tragic / It all just falls apart.” From here, we move into an uncomfortably empty mind. Even when she’s singing about anger or bitterness, she’s nearly flat, but it conveys as much as if she’d been shaky or close to tears. In fact, it’s more effective than singing with movement, at least for this song, which describes Olsen’s feelings of disillusionment. You’re only “fierce and light and young,” she tells us, “When you don’t know that you’re wrong / or just how wrong you are.” This may be my favorite track.

Olsen plays up the guitar and drums in “Forgiven/Forgotten” and “High & Wild.” Both songs are forcefully catchy in an unexpected way. “Forgiven/Forgotten” has heavy drums and bass and the words drive you through with repetition. Her voice is bolder and far more scornful in “High & Wild” with its grungy riffs. It’s not as sad as most of the other songs, and there’s a powerful melody that recalls ’60s femme rock. It comes close to being somber, but then she sarcastically sings: “Well, this would all be so much easier / if I had nothing to say.”

“Hi-five” is another song that positions itself outside of the sorrowful, instead tip-toeing on the edge before diving into bitterness. The simple guitar chords and drums go well with the blues-y, old country lyrics: “I feel so lonesome I could cry.” Olsen’s definitely warbling here, reflecting the movement in the instrumentation. There’s such sudden raw emotion when she shouts “someone who believes” that the entire tone of the song turns around. “Are you lonely, too?” she asks. “So am I,” she says after calling for a hi-five. But then, in a completely delicious twist at the very end she reveals herself: “I’m stuck too / I’m stuck with you.”

The whole album is narrative and extremely emotional, with Olsen occasionally throwing in an endearing word like “darlin.'” There’s also a great deal of experimentation here—songs are different in tone, in rhythm, but they all run smoothly from one to the next. If you’re okay with your own feelings lurching out, and maybe shedding a tear or two that you didn’t know was lurking inside, then give this album a good, long listen.

Check out “White Fire” from Burn Your Fire For No Witness:

ALBUM REVIEW + ARTIST PROFILE: New Bums

Although Ben Chasny and Donovan Quinn’s initial dislike for each other when they met, a few years ago, was personal–not musical–it’s tempting to talk about, because their work together now is so dependent on their bond. They always liked each other’s music (Quinn released albums with Skygreen Leopards, Chasny with Six Organs of Admittance, Rangda, and Comets on fire, to name a few). When the pair formed New Bums, they entered into a collaboration that uniquely fused each member’s skill set into a partnership that couldn’t be broken in half. On their debut album together, Voices in a Rented Room, the group wears its intent on its sleeve: Quinn’s trademark folky lyric imagery seems to be emitting simultaneously and from the same point of origin as Chasny’s delicate instrumental ramblings.

The low-lit, husky vocals of the first song on Voices, “Black Bough,” immediately conjures a backdrop of moodiness and melancholy, and that aura stays strong throughout the album’s twelve tracks. Acoustic guitar-based melodies, bearing tight-knit likenesses to their lyrical counterparts, emerge over this backdrop, waxing and waning as the songs wear on. It’s dark, sparsely-laid stuff, with lots of chilly backup oohs and ahhs, that also brings some catchy phrasings–like the ones on “The Killers and Me”–that have kind of an old-time cowpoke feel. “The longest train I ever saw..” one line begins on “Town on the Water,” in un-showy evocation of the traditional–and great–“In The Pines.” In other spots, too, New Bums tip a quiet salute to Old, Weird America with ragged vocals and guitars that trill like mandolins. The band side-steps a direct descendant-ness from American folk, though, with switched-up rhythmic weight and a modern approach to lyrical metaphor. Though the music emerges from a couple different songwriting traditions, New Bums’ tracks are too interior, and too personally crafted, to really resemble anything but themselves. The influences are visible, but none will smack you over the head.

Separately, Chasny and Quinn have been associated with the new folk and acoustic-leaning psychedelic schools of music-making. This project’s most apparent deviation from their other lives as musicians is how dialed down the impulse to push into new, extreme turf feels on Voices. The music demands attention the way a whisper makes you quiet down to hear it. “I don’t know if anyone will notice it or care about it, but I like it because it’s sweet,” Quinn told AudioFemme last week, explaining “Town on the Water” is one of his favorite tracks off the new album. A lot of the songs on Voices, sweet or not, are like that, quiet enough to slip by unnoticed. Whether sighing like a woodsier, and slightly less devastated, Elliott Smith on “Mother’s Favorite Hated Son” or tracing the feathery, high-register melodies of “Black Bough,” Quinn and Chasny’s vocals yield more the more–and the closer–you listen to them. If you like your folk low and slow, your guitars sweet and your lyrics bleak, try Voices in a Rented Room on for size. The album’s out February 18th on Drag City. Check out the music video for “The Killers and Me” below:

Last week, I called up New Bums to talk about the recording of Voices and get some insight into their collaboration process. Turns out, there’s a mystery man named Willem Jones behind the duo, and he started it all–even directing the video you see above. The story of their initial dislike for each other became even funnier when, since the two band members were in different parts of California and I kept losing one or the other’s line when I tried to put them on conference call, they started ragging on each other like Jewish mothers. “I don’t think he has service,” Quinn said first. “Let me give you another number. Once Chasny was on the phone, Quinn dropped out. “He has a land line,” Chasny insisted. “Ask him why he isn’t using his landline.” The pair had clearly overcome their differences, and then some. Read on to discover how New Bums write their songs, where they got their name, and which of them is secretly a malevolent space alien just biding his time before pursuing world domination.

AF: We’ve heard your band is a “grudging match-up.” How did you guys meet?

Donovan Quinn: We had a mutual friend named Willem Jones and he brought us together. At first we didn’t get along for various reasons, but over time we started talking about music and different writers and found that we had a lot in common, but there are also a lot of differences to our approach. I’ve always been a fan of Ben’s music. I just jumped at the opportunity to work with him.

Ben Chasny: We had crossed paths at festivals before we started hanging out with Willem, and I think [fusion_builder_container hundred_percent=”yes” overflow=”visible”][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”][Quinn] had a dislike for me from then. Apparently we had already met once, and then I ran into him while I was at Amoeba Records shopping, and he tells me that he came up to me and I didn’t recognize him. So he got offended and wrote me off forever.

AF: So you just got off on the wrong foot? Your differences were always personal, not musical?

DQ: Yeah, I think Ben is easily one of the best guitar players in the world. He’s a shredder. But he’s also a great songwriter, and songwriting has always been my main interest. We tried to make that the focal point of the group—as opposed to the other projects we’ve each been a part of—so we always try to start a song by having the lyrics and melody together, and then work from that.

AF: You guys are both veterans, you’ve each been involved in a bunch of different collaborations.

DQ: Yeah, we’re old. We’ve both been around for a long time and have done a lot of music. When we got together and decided we wanted to start New Bums, we really wanted to come up with an idea and an aesthetic that we hadn’t done before, that would be its own thing. We do benefit from having done different albums, been involved with different bands, but it was important to make sure we were doing something new with this project.

BC: An interesting thing I’ve noticed throughout the years, is when two people get together to collaborate, they kind of always want to do what the other person is doing. So if you have some guy—not me, but if I take this out of my perspective—who was doing a lot of heavy metal, and he got together with someone who was doing dance music, the heavy metal guy would start wanting to do dance music and the dance guy would be like, ‘Oh, no, I want to do what you’re doing!’ That’s what always happens to me when I collaborate. With Donovan, it was apparent pretty immediately that there was a certain middle ground we were going for. I mean, what we do separately isn’t so different in the first place.

AF: Where does the name New Bums come from?

DQ: I don’t know if Ben will remember this differently, but that’s another Willem Jones thing. We would get together at his parties, and we were the only people there under sixty years old, and we were called the new bums. It just stuck. I really like the name. I don’t know if it’s the best name, but for better or worse, we just became the New Bums.

BC: It came to the point where we’d try to come up with other names. When we tried to do that, nothing else made sense, because that’s what those guys were calling us. We don’t see each other that way, but we thought it was funny.

DQ: It’s really a partnership. We wanted to have a band where, with anything we put out, we couldn’t do it without the other person. Especially because now, if you meet a band, every single person in the band has their own thing, too. They’ll play drums, or whatever, but also have their own project. We wanted to try to get away from that auteur thing and have it really be truly collaborative.

AF: Do you write songs totally collaboratively?

DQ: Usually, one of us will have an idea, and then try not to develop it too much, so that the other person can have some input. It might just be a chord change or a couple of lines, a lyric idea, and then the other person will just jump on. An example would be “Your Girlfriend Might Be A Cop,” I started with the idea of hanging out with a new friend and getting the crazy paranoid idea that this new friend of yours actually might be a cop who’s gonna turn you in. Ben saw that in a notebook of mine and came up with a melody around it. He came up with this idea of the unreliable narrator, and it being somebody’s girlfriend. That’d be an example of how we would work—somebody comes up with an idea, the other one rearranges it, and it goes back and forth.

BC: Donovan’s really lyric-oriented, and I’m more driven by chords and music. He doesn’t work on chords as much, and I definitely don’t work on words as much. But it’s funny, on the record, the songs came in every different way. Some songs he wrote all the lyrics, some songs I wrote all the lyrics, on some songs the verses are half mine and half his. The music is written mostly by one person, though. Every song seems like it was created in a different way. Which is pretty exciting. We don’t have a template.

AF: Is that an example of what you were talking about before, about picking up on what the other person in your group is doing and wanting to get into that?

BC: Yeah. That’s the reason why I’m in this band. I’m in a bunch of bands, doing different things, but the reason why I’m in this band is because of the word stuff. This is my band to work on lyrics. Also, to have a good time.

AF: Even if you did get off to a bad start, you seem to have gotten very close. Is the music you’ve made a byproduct of your friendship?

BC: Yeah, I moved away from San Francisco for a while, and we would use the band as an excuse to get together. He’d say, ‘I’ll fly up to Seattle,’ where I was living at the time, ‘We’ll finish this record!’ And he’d come up and we wouldn’t even work on it, we’d just hang out. In that way, the band was more of a vehicle for friendship, but now we’re doing it more seriously.

DQ: Like I said, I was a fan of Ben’s. I think he has a great aesthetic and a great mind for music. We’d go to the bar and talk about Townes Van Zandt for hours. I just get excited about working with someone I can see eye to eye with, and who also has ideas I never would have. Even if there was no record, or shows, we would still have become New Bums and it would have been a secret band for our own enjoyment.

AF: It sounds like a really fun and easy experience for you, making music right now.

DQ: Our idea of fun may be different than some peoples’. Both me and Ben—we aren’t known for, uh, a relaxed demeanor when it comes to music. We’re both liable to have a total meltdown during any given moment at a show, but it does help to have somebody with you who you can kind of rely upon. It is really fun. Ben says that it’s kind of like a buddy film. We try not to be ever at all lazy with the music—have space and all that, yes, but we also take a lot of time to make sure that we can listen back to a song a thousand times and there’s not something in there that we think is shitty.

AF: How did that come through on your new album, Voices From A Rented Room? What were your goals for the record?

DQ: Every step of the way, the way we came up with the songs was a product of all these ideas and dreams we had and that we had talked about for years. We tried to get the feeling of the two of us in a room playing the song together, very loose and late-night feeling. I feel that a lot of new music is really built up. Whether it’s pop, or heavy music, or whatever, it’s really pushed up to ten—armored, in a way. I think that’s because it’s hard to get attention in the music world, because there’s so much music, and so many ways to hear it, that people really want to immediately make a big impression. We kind of want the opposite of that. We want to come across naturally, the way we would if you were in the room listening to us come up with the songs and jam.

BC: I was just happy to have songs with more of a narrative—an apparent narrative—as opposed to the kind of material I usually work with, which has more of a hidden narrative and fewer words. I think if New Bums has any philosophy, it’s just…um, to record songs ourselves and not spend a lot of money. True to our name. We tried not to be very extravagant, and at the same time, we wanted to take a lot of care and pay a lot of attention. I don’t know that we have a philosophy beyond that. If we do, it’s still in the works.

AF: The first track “Black Bough,” which you’ve released already, feels very pared down and sparse.

DQ: That was the first song that we wrote for the project. After we came up with “Black Bough,” it gave us a lot of confidence to go forward with the band. That song, maybe more than any other on the album, has all the ideas that we wanted to get across with the band. It’s sparse, and has a lot of space, which we always enjoy. It’s got the kind of space you hear in seventies outlaw country music, and early hip hop, too, where the beats are really spacious.

AF: What was the process of recording that song like?

BC: We were just trying to figure each other out, at that time. We lived really close to each other, and he would come over late at night. He had that song, and I remember just playing it my garage, because I was lucky enough to have a garage in San Francisco at that time. I remember drinking a lot, and not remembering how to play the song. It was a pretty fun song.

AF: It’s funny you should say that, because the song—and the whole album—also seems very melancholy. Do you both prefer darker stuff?

DQ: Yeah, me and Ben have that in common. We tend to do dark music. Different people have different things that make them want to write, and usually I write when I’m looking back on something. I write a lot of songs about relationships—romantic, family, friendships—but the point of view I find it easiest to write from is when it’s over, and you’re looking back on it, which is inherently sad. So that leads me into darker territory more often than not.

AF: What’s your favorite song on the album?

DQ: I have a couple. I really love “Your Girlfriend Might Be A Cop” and “Black Bough.” “Town on the Water” is kind of a band favorite. It’s one of those songs where I don’t know if anyone will notice it or care about it, but I like it because it’s sweet. It’s a kind-hearted song, which is hard for our band to write. We’re better at the dour, shattered songs. “Town on the Water” is about combing your hair to go out on a date, dancing in the hallway and stuff. I was really excited to have a song like that, that I thought my mom would like. In fact, Chasny gave his father the album and he said that was his favorite song. We were pretty excited about that.

AF: Earlier, Donovan, you mentioned that Ben kind of thinks of your band as a buddy film. If we were watching “New Bums” The Movie, how would that buddy film end?

BC: Well, I would hope it would be a sci-fi buddy film. Donovan would definitely end up being an alien. Or one of us would, at least—much to the surprise of the other one. Not a nice alien. A real mean alien. But an alien that wouldn’t harm the other band member. It would be like—oh wow, here is this creature that’s usually really mean, but it’s been nice to me this whole time.

AF: So Donovan the Alien would wreak havoc on the world, and then spare you?

BC: Maaaaybe. It would be a big question mark. Just like The Thing, at the end. Would I actually be spared, or not? In fact I think there’s a good chance that that’s actually how the band is gonna end. Maybe without the alien part.

AF: Well, that leaves room for a sequel.

BC: Precisely. A big question mark.

Many thanks to Ben Chasny and Donovan Quinn for entertaining our questions! Once again, Voices in a Rented Room is out 2/18/14 via Drag City; you can pick up your copy and learn more about the Bums here. Listen to “Black Bough,” the first track off the album, via SoundCloud:
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ALBUM REVIEW: Roman Remains, “Zeal”

Zeal may not be the most dynamic album released this year, but despite any misgivings, Roman Remains’ debut full length (out March 4th on H.O.T Records Ltd) beckons us into an immersive, dissonant world. Not to mention it’s catchy, synth-filled fun. Liela Moss and Toby Butler, of The Duke Spirit, set out with this electronic side project to create something “playful, but never dumb”. Though some of the bass lines and melodies echo The Duke Spirit, Roman Remains has a disparate vibe. Butler switches from bass riffs to potent downbeats and Moss from english rock band to powerful femme fatale. The strong female vocals and atmospheric musical backdrop lends depth and menace to an otherwise less notable album. While Moss has a voice like Bjork, Roman Remains is more reminiscent of Ladytron or Portishead – propulsive beats and seemingly sweet, but commanding lyrics. With this album they’ve captured grungy, otherworldly sensations with simple words and sounds.

The titles range from pastoral (“Agrimony”, “Gazebo”) to more dangerous (“Apoidea”, “Tachycardia”, “Vulture Beat”) to narrative (“Nest In Your Room”, “Thursty As A Truck”). Most of the songs are quite similar in structure: a simple, often slower opening that jettisons into the club-like, laden with heavy bass. While they could definitely benefit from some variation between songs, the narrative is what really pulls the listener in. The lyrics, while simple and often repetitive, lend to the powerful atmosphere. They can be very visual – “Looking at the people / Moving in the space between”, “Hard to see early evening stars” – as if looking through the eyes of the narrator. There are many possible interpretations. Personally, I see that narrator in some shadowy, cyberpunk club. She speaks strongly but effortlessly of power plays, melancholy, and anger. Simple images evoke all of these sensations, and as a result it’s difficult not to be drawn into the mood.

Track ten, “Vulture Beat”, has one of the more interesting openings – dreamy, and environmental. But it moves into familiar territory with the chorus, which presents yet another catchy, repetitive melody. The words are great, though, direct and sensual: “Help me / Help you / To pleasure”, “Help me / Help you / More”. Tack nine, “Animals”, also has a unique start. The sounds aren’t quite dissonant, but they’re strong and harsh with vocals leading in. Moss commands: “Back off”, “Keep / Keep / Watching this”, leading into the simplest chorus: “Oh Woah / Animals / Oh Woah / Oh no”.

Tracks seven and eight are more visual and speak towards the narrative. “Gazebo” is a bit melancholy. The beat is obvious, but softer than many of the other songs. The vocals are blended, and a bit hazy. Moss pulls the listener in when she sings “One hundred ways to watch / The shadows lose their light,” and manages to sound both earthy and soft. “Influence and Atlas” is more menacing. It begins with a thumping beat and words that construct a vague setting: “Looking at the people there / Moving in the space between”. Then, they build a vague relationship: “I didn’t know if you would influence it / I didn’t know if you would ever try” with a bit of “Oh / Oh / Oh” in between. It was easy for me to lose myself to this space, ambiguous, perhaps even slippery, but distinct.

Roman Remains plays with dissonance and juxtaposition. They’ve succeeded in making an album full of dark, urging energy and a powerful, yet fairly intangible story. There’s simplicity and there’s intensity. I felt empowered and emotional after I listened, a little weary, too, but more so compelled. Perhaps the next release will be more well-rounded and try a few experiments with genre and composition.

Check out the album’s first track, “This Stone Is Starting To Bleed”, below.

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AudioFemme’s Top 50 Tracks of 2013

In a given year, thousands of records are released, many of them having upwards of ten tracks apiece. So it’s actually physically impossible to hear them all, and can be downright daunting to wrangle them into some kind of intelligible countdown. But we certainly have done our best, here cataloging the tunes we just couldn’t stop playing, and stuck fast in our heads when we finally managed to turn them off. For this list, we tried to reach beyond picking our favorite tracks from our top 50 albums (although some artists did make both lists). We gave special attention to one-off singles and those featured on EPs (since we only included full-length albums in our year-end rundown). If you’d rather play them in Spotify, you can access our Top 50 Tracks playlist here.

50. Miley Cyrus – We Can’t Stop (from Bangerz)

Despite the walking shit-show that was Miley Cyrus this past year, people couldn’t deny the slick production on this infectious and weirdly unique track—the response pretty much across the board was a meek “yeah, this is a good song… but don’t quote me on that.” I think it’s about time people just came out and said it: kudos on the song, Miley. – RD

47. Holograms – Lay Us Down (from Forever)

The stirring swan song from the Swedish post-punks’ follow up to their highly-acclaimed 2012 release ends the distinctly darker Forever on a slightly positive note. More refined and restrained than the rest of the album, its razor-sharp riffs and plodding percusssion still pack quite the punch. But there’s an unusual strain of hope in the hollow, echoic vocals, the lyrics offering an unexpected anthem of perseverance, issued almost like a chant. The reverential motif continues with sporadic church gongs and roomy synths, adding to the track’s epic sway. – NP

48. RAC feat. Penguin Prison – Hollywood (from Don’t Talk To)

Andre Allen Anjos’ ability to remix good songs into even better songs is what made RAC a hipster household name, but this year marked his first foray into making entirely original music. His collaboration with Penguin Prison was the stand-out of his Don’t Talk To EP, with that catchy-as-all-hell bass riff that had me instantly hooked. It’s a little funk, a little Phoenix, and a lot irresistible. – RD

47. Keep Shelly In Athens – Time Only Exists to Betray Us (from At Home)

This song is a force to be reckoned with. It’s powerful, disturbing, and sexy. Lead vocalist Sarah P. stretches from a light murmur to a heady snarl. Its backing samples make reference to trip-hop, while the instrumentation is reminiscent of psych rock. Simultaneously ambient and chaotic, the track is dynamic and fluid, a true show-stopper. When I saw them in October they opened the set with this song and it immediately intoxicated the crowd. – MB

46. Ha Ha Tonka – Lessons (from Lessons)

The fresh-faced and earnest fellows of Ha Ha Tonka mix a healthy dollop of Southern farm boy into their rock ‘n’roll, and this track’s gospel vocal harmonies and antsy, guilt-ridden repetition add depth to the group’s signature stuck-in-your-head, drum-thumping formula. – CL

45. Vondelpark – Always Forever (from Seabed)

This track from Brit trio Vondelpark is only 3 minutes long yet feels erudite and expansive. Melding familiar synth underpinnings and smooth R&B vocals that are stretched and distorted over electro-pop beats and twinkling melodies, the listener is swept into a web of fantasy and romance, in which the lines between dreaming and reality come in and out of focus at the turn of each phrase. It’s simultaneously danceable and ambient simultaneously, a promising direction for electronic music in the coming year. – AW

44. Young Galaxy – New Summer (from Ultramarine)

Oh, the sweetness of a summer fling. Not since the Grease soundtrack have we had such a fitting anthem for seasonally-affected affection, illuminated here by swoony synths and bouncy bass and Catherine McCandless’s yearning cries of “let’s get out of the roooooo–oo-oo-ooom, ooooh”. Optimal listening recommendations come from the lyrics themselves – with the windows down and the stereo loud; basically the perfect way to listen to anything, but maybe even more so with someone you’ll never see after the fall. – LR

43. Haerts – Wings (from Hemiplegia)

On the Brooklyn quartet’s charismatic EP Hemiplegia, Nini Fabi’s resolute intonations soar over infectious beats and dynamic guitars. On “Wings”, the band adopts a sparkling 80’s pop vibe appropriate to the tune’s subject matter of unconditional adoration. While Fabi’s vocal range is technically impressive, it’s the drama she is able to convey within it – the wide range of emotion that comes across on every listen (and on the subsequent tracks from the EP) – that stays with the listener long after the last notes have faded. – LR

42. Albert Hammond, Jr. – St. Justice (from AHJ)

Albert Hammond Jr. has never really bothered to distance his solo self sonically from his work with The Strokes, but he’s often displayed a genius knack for expanding on those simplistic rock themes ever so slightly. His past two records, written and recorded as he struggled with heroin addiction, hinged on subtle production adornments, but the four songs on his AHJ EP eschew those kinds of embellishments altogether in favor of rootsy, infectious grooves and getting back to stripped-down basics. As the first track on that EP, “St. Justice” is a perfect sort of warm-up, with Hammond’s haughty vocals sailing over a needling, catchy guitar line. – JA

41. Denitia and Sene – she’s not the only one. (from his and hers.)

Denitia and Sene’s entire album is a wonderful exchange between the two performers, but this hip-hop infused track is particularly striking. Denitia’s soulful vocals are perfectly sensual over Sene’s old school beat, and the overall effect is a simultaneously futuristic and nostalgic feel that hits all the right spots. – RD

40. DIANA – Born Again (from Perpetual Surrender)

The most exuberant track from the Canadian quartet’s stirring debut Perpetual Surrender, “Born Again” features airy synths, glitzy saxophone (courtesy of Destroyer’s Joseph Shabason) and sees vocalist Carmen Elle’s breathy whispers amped to the open throated demand “Now’s the time for believing / Lay your hands on me, I need healing”. Not since a DJ saved Indeep’s life has such dire import been placed on dance music, but this time the focus is on escape from a tiny town buoyed by the company of a like-minded lover, rather than rescue from a broken heart. It’s a glorious moment that shimmers on a standout album and the dancefloor alike. – LR

39. Cakes da Killa – I Run This Club (from The Eulogy)

Opening with laser fire and maniacal laughter before erupting into a frenzied late-night party anthem accented with frequent air horns, Cakes da Killa proudly represents the onslaught of gay rappers that turn the oft-homophobic genre on its head. Less raunchy than most of the other material on his debut The Eulogy, Cakes’ braggadoccio begs booty bouncing (getting a boost from Philly beat-maker Siyoung), his twisted, clever rhymes on par with like-minded Le1f or Mykki Blanco. – LR

38. Lorde – Royals (from Pure Heroine)

It’s easy to accuse a seventeen year old of being naive about certain things (like the fact that her breakout single might come off as just a tad racist since she skewers a particular brand of consumerism most celebrated through hip-hop) but honestly, in 2013 it’s almost refreshing when a teen pop singer is as unaffected as Lorde. And it’s also refreshing when “pop” refers more to popularity than to any overriding, over-produced sound; the infectious, finger-snapped percussive elements in “Royals” feel more minimal than epic and provide a perfect backdrop for that honeyed, slightly witchy voice. No matter how ubiquitous the single, it’s hard to deny that kind of obvious talent. – LR

37. Jagwar Ma – Come Save Me (from Howlin’)

There’s a lot at play on this Australian duo’s mostly overlooked debut record Howlin’. Rooted in the pop-goes-bizarre vein of Animal Collective’s best Beach Boys imitations, none of the tracks hover there too long before branching into the dubbiness of the sweatiest club anthems. With energy to spare, “Come Save Me” hinges on these elements coming together in dense layers as it channels girl groups of Spector-era fame and moves through kinetic rhythms and bright synths. – LR / MB

36. FKA Twigs – Papi Pacify (from EP2)

There’s been plenty of talk this year about women harnessing sexuality as a means of empowerment, and unfortunately most of it has centered on the clumsiest examples in pop music. Luckily, there’s also Tahliah Barnett, who performs an updated version of trip-hop as FKA Twigs. On the Arca-produced EP2, her breathless vocals lilt sensuously over sparse beats. The videos that accompany each of the songs highlight their dense sexuality in artistic, enigmatic ways, with “Papi Pacify” being the most intense to date. As the minimalist soundscape builds into churning R&B, Twigs calls out for her lover to “clarify” and “pacify”; in the gorgeous black-and-white clip she’s made to look fragile against the outsized landscape of her dominant partner but her gaze rarely leaves the viewer’s, asserting her control and complicity over the situation. It’s liberating in an unflinching way that doesn’t beg any half-assed justifications about who’s in control of her persona as a performer. – LR

35. The Entrance Band – Spider (from Face The Sun)

Having struggled with depression and addiction, the three members of L.A. based Entrance Band are poised to borrow sonically from trance-inducing stoner rock while waxing introspective about their demons. There are plenty of literal examples on Face The Sun, their first studio album since 2009; Guy Blakeslee’s desperate warble is more than convincing on songs like “The Crave” and “Year of the Dragon”. “Spider” takes a less direct approach, unspooling surf rock riffs with bleedingly evil distortion and lyrics that read more like Aesop’s fables. Bassist Paz Lenchantin created an intoxicating stop-motion video to accompany the track that compliments its dark themes with a film noir feel. – CL

34. Anna Calvi – Suddenly (from One Breath)

Anna Calvi brings an almost theatrical rock ‘n’ roll tone to everything she sings, but on slow-burner “Suddenly” she’s unusually commanding. With strong, strummed power chords and rotund vocals, “Suddenly” knocks you on the ground and keeps you there. The verses are lyrically vulnerable but plummet into clattering instrumental leaps when least expected, building the emotional energy of the song to its breaking point and paying off in the release. – RK

33. Gap Dream – Chill Spot (from Shine Your Light)

In his quest to find the most chill of all spots, Gabe Fulvimar moved from Ohio to California to live in a storage space adjunct to Burger Records, the Fullerton imprint known for releasing garage pop and surf punk cassettes. The influence of Burger Records and California cool is all over Gap Dream’s sophomore release Shine Your Light, and “Chill Spot” typifies that shift while describing Fulvimar’s trajectory. In “organizing his mind” we see him mostly ditching the gritty guitar so present on his self-titled debut for warbling synths. In the video he’s proudly repping his label (as well as ABBA), wearing his trademark orange aviators, and slipping across Cali sunsets, down palm-tree lined streets, and though a shimmering neon underground; it’s probably safe to say he’s found the “Chill Spot” he was searching for, and he fits right in. – LR

32. Kim Deal – Are You Mine? (single)

I was disheartened when Kim Deal left The Pixies and underwhelmed by The Breeders’ reunion tour but delighted in Deal’s self-released 7-inch series, recorded with her patented All Wave (no computers, digital recording or “auto-tuning” as defined by Wikipedia) process and issued sporadically throughout 2013. The crowning jewel in what is thus far a trio of releases is this lovelorn lullaby. Just think what the ASPCA could do with this song in those commercials filled with sad-eyed puppies and mangled kittens begging you to donate money to their rescue efforts! Sarah Maclachlan ain’t shit. – LR

31. Sevyn Streeter – It Won’t Stop (single)

I can’t tell you how upsetting it is to me that when Sevyn Streeter’s EP finally dropped “It Won’t Stop” had been remixed and now overbearingly features woman-abuser Chris Brown on the track. I mean, I knew that she had written songs for him and found a home on on his CBE imprint, but I took the fact that the single had been Diplo and Free School produced as at least somewhat redemptive. Luckily, the version of the song that I jammed to all summer (and isn’t co-opted by any Rihanna-beater) is still available thanks to the miracle of the internet. – LR

30. Say Lou Lou – Better In The Dark (single)

A seriously stunning twin sister act from Australia and Sweden, this duo inspires vicious wonder with their dreamy pop. Perfect for the end of the night, after the lights have flickered off and faded out, with a lover or without one, this song feels both epic and internal in scope. The Kilbey sisters exhibit something of an Olsen twins business sensibility, having established their own label for releasing singles after putting out “Maybe You” via Kitsuné; all this has been enough to grab the attention of acts like Twin Shadow, with whom Say Lou Lou toured. We expect big things from their first full-length which will hopefully see release sometime in early 2014. – JA

29. Foxygen – On Blue Mountain (from We Are the 21st Century Ambassadors of Peace & Magic)

Foxygen’s debut confidently weaves oldies rock influences (including obvious nods to The Beatles and Bob Dylan, among others) with poignant and playful storytelling. This song embodies their curatorial versatility, transforming in a single beat or a lone lyric from weary to lovelorn to rousing and anthemic and back again. It’s a quick-moving and complicated track that manages extreme swings without sounding psychotic; in fact, its movements are downright elegant. In other words, it’s an instant classic. – CL / RD

28. Drake – Hold On, We’re Going Home (from Nothing Was The Same)

With an 80’s feel reminiscent of Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean”, Drake’s exploring synthy territories he rarely broaches. Drum machine pops and cracks with a retro vibe, the vocals on the bridge more Hall & Oates than traditional Drizzy. Lyrically it shares a line (“you’re a good girl”) with one of 2013’s sleaziest songs, but takes the high road where the other does not, casting Drake as a lovesick knight in shining armour. It’s Nothing Was The Same‘s truest gem, despite having failed to spawn any catch phrases. – TT

27. Local Natives – You & I (from Hummingbird)

At once soothing and emotionally gripping, “You & I” is notable as much for its composition and complexity as it is for the feelings it stirs. The plaintive lyrics (“In all this light / all I feel is dark / had the sun without its warmth”, etc) combined with Taylor Rice’s soaring tenor vocals (stylistically reminiscent of Animal Collective and Fleet Foxes), indeed pull at the heart strings. However the composition itself captivates, with expansive percussions and tight melodies that drive the song forward in a way that lends it happier, more uplifting elements. The subsequent tension between these two contradictions makes “You & I” one of the best tracks on this already exceptional sophmore album. – AW

26. Little Daylight – Overdose (from Tunnel Vision)

You’re gonna hear this in a car commercial or trashy drama eventually, so why not enjoy it fully before Lena Dunham’s music supervisors get ahold of it? This dancefloor-worthy ditty glamorizes the whole caught-up-in-an-endless-cycle-with-someone-who’s-so-so-so-so-bad-for-you thing. Over a wall of addictive synths and heart-stopping, foot-stomping beats, Nikki Taylor’s AA-inspired confessional spirals from low, sultry verse to manic chorus. – LR

25. Courtney Barnett – Avant Gardener (from The Double EP: A Sea of Split Peas)

This song is like Exile in Guyville on acid, a.k.a. the best thing ever. Over guitar distortions and a simple, repetitive bass line, Barnett’s dazed vocals recount the story of a panic attack she has in the middle of some very enjoyable gardening: “I feel proactive, I pull out weeds / All of a sudden, I’m having trouble breathing in”—life can be such a bitch. – RD

24. The Denzels – 222 (from Blow)

This new EP from the Denzels came in juuuust under the wire on 12/1, but packed a huge punch. Each track gives the listener a glimpse of what to expect from their full-length – namely upbeat, irresistibly catchy post punk with retro, drawling vocals and loud, driving drums that hit you over the head. “222” stands out for its ability to sweep you inside of it like it’s some sort of tornado on a destruction path. It starts out with 15 seconds of fuzzy synth before bursting drums and a driving two-chord guitar melody break through the static like an adrenaline mainline. The song feels like a four-minute long marathon, at the end of which you feel exhausted but happy. And as an added bonus, you get the brilliant, oh-so-concise one line chorus as follows: “This little light of mine / will light you on fire.” They should put that on my gravestone. – AW

23. Kate Boy – Northern Lights (from Northern Lights)

In 2011, Kate Akhurst was introduced to the other members of what would become Kate Boy during a visit to Sweden. The first time they met they penned the words “Everything we touch it turns, turns to gold” – a declarative rallying cry to follow smokey-voiced verses draped over elastic bass and an ascendant, bouncy synthline. Akhurst moved to Sweden, and the electro-pop quartet released the single late in 2012, followed by this year’s debut EP of the same that’s every bit as catchy and textured as this first glimpse of magic. – LR

22. Mariah Carey feat. Miguel – #Beautiful (single)

Mariah and Miguel are a match made in hashtag heaven. Somehow managing to recall Motown-era smash hits and sugary sweet 90’s jams at once, the unadorned, fuzzy charm is akin to finding a random summer anthem on FM radio. While the backing beats are tactile and raw, the vocals are buttery and double-tracked at every turn. Mariah’s signature high octaves are repurposed as cat-call-like whistles – their most appropriate and least grating use to date. Kanye was probably listening to this song nonstop when he envisioned the “Bound 2” video. – LR

21. Queens of the Stone Age – If I Had A Tail (from …Like Clockwork)

“If I Had A Tail” absolutely blindsided me–which is quite the illustrious feat these days. When I first heard it I thought it was some unreleased Talking Heads track. On the verses, Josh Homme’s voice sounds as if it now inhabits an entirely new register in which he has never sung before, and by the chorus their signature gritty, glitchy guitar underpinnings reveal the song’s roots as a classic Queens Of The Stone Age jam. That they’ve enjoyed such longevity as a band (nearly 20 years old now) by recycling the same electric guitar-dominated alt-rock motifs over and over says quite a bit about their strength as musicians (although I personally lost interest in them after bassist Mark Lanegan left the project). That said, it’s cool to hear them branch out into a newer, more experimental style that lets a bit of idiosyncrasy permeate their sound, all the while maintaining the structural integrity of the music and the elemental aspects that make what they do exceptional. Everytime I listen to this song I find a new layer of complexity, which is what in my estimation separates the quotidian from the great. – AW

20. The Knife – Full of Fire (from Shaking the Habitual)

While music journo went wild over Kanye, most everyone slept on an avant-garde noise epic every bit as political and possibly more sonically harsh. Shaking the Habitual is admittedly difficult to digest as it ambles through creepy abstract soundscapes, and perhaps it could have benefitted from a little distilling to its more ecstatic moments (like the clubby “Stay Out Here”, seething slow-burner “Ready To Lose”, or the airy, tribal “Without You My Life Would Be Boring”). But that would have been “selling out”, and those who can’t sit through the entire gauntlet of bizarro breaks and otherworldly acoustics have an almost party-ready set of Cliff’s Notes in the album’s lead single. – LR

19. Mapei – Don’t Wait (single)

I hate to use the term “worldly influences” but it’s pretty fitting here. Mapei’s killer single draws from her Liberian background, her Swedish upbringing, as well as her time spent living in Tunisia, Portugal, and Brazil. This song is pretty sparse instrumentally, but Mapei’s rich voice comes in like caramel, oozing into all the crevices of your brain. – RD

18. Cass McCombs feat. Karen Black (from Big Wheel and Others)

McCombs’ second collaboration with late singer/actress Karen Black is sweet and bare-bones. Following a simplistic formula that rocks like a lullaby with warm twang and the innocent lyricism of Goodnight Moon, a bevy of entities – from planets to musical instruments – are implored to glow, well… brighter. The song isn’t wholly innocent, occasionally interjecting pops of snap and sass with lines like “Brighter, my ass!” into its casual singsong without losing any of the loveliness. – CL

17. CHVRCHES – Recover (from The Bones of What You Believe)

Lauren Mayberry, Iain Cook, and Martin Doherty knew they had great chemistry when they started messing around in the studio, and were pleasantly surprised when the internet took notice of tracks they posted on soundcloud, but certainly weren’t expecting to become one of the most buzzed-about new acts of 2013. “Recover” exemplifies the signature sound that took them to the top – expansive synths, earnest and elfin vocals, unforgettable hooks and glittering production. That the band handled production themselves instead of turning it over to record industry bigwigs shows integrity as well as keen insight and promises many more hits to come. – LR

16. Run the Jewels feat. Big Boi – Banana Clipper (from Run the Jewels)

The latest and greatest from Killer Mike and El-P’s stellar collaboration, made all the better by the presence of Big Boi, this track is bouncy, badass, and a bit eerie with its chopped-up, tinny-sounding samples. It captures the reckless spirit that made the entirety of their collaboration so exciting, presenting the larger-than-life personas of the duo (and guest star) through well-timed, verbose rhymes over a hyperventilating beat. – MB

15. Phosphorescent – Song for Zula (from Muchacho)

It sounds shimmery and pretty, but “Song for Zula” is bitter in the way that makes me feel almost more sorry for the titular trollop than I do for Matthew Houck, who here resolves to move on after getting burned so badly he wanted to kill her with his bare hands. In this scathing who-needs-you-anyway hymn, Houck sings of racing through the desert, wary of fickle love. And the strings present the auditory equivalent of a mirage, see-sawing sweetly through delicate guitar reverb. Perfect for those who’d rather go kick-boxing than on a crying jag in the face of heartbreak. – LR

14. Postiljonen – Supreme (from Skyer)

A few years ago, a couple promising albums from jj and Air France it made it seem like Balearic-tinged Scandinavian pop was about to be huge. The phenomenon kind of died, with acts like M83 (who are actually from France) the only clear successor. Somewhere in the middle are Swedish trio Postiljonen, whose debut record Skyer is laden with ethereal vocals, vibrant synths, and the occasional, but always sweeping saxophone solo. “Supreme” is the band’s anthemic ode to wild love, replete with breathy spoken passages and soaring guitars – a perfect introduction to the band’s brand of slightly nostalgic, beautifully wrought electro-pop. – LR

13. Blood Orange – Chamakay (from Cupid Deluxe)

Dev Hynes’ signature Prince-esque vocals play brilliantly with a guest appearance from Chairlift’s Caroline Polachek on the lead single from Cupid Deluxe. A lithe marimba melody floats over echoey percussion while those bittersweet vocals swirl around the mix, expertly translating the quiet but lacerating essence of heartbreak that permeates this track. Hynes’ production choices are consistently fearless throughout the entirety of the record, but never more bold than when he ends “Chamakay” with a sultry sax solo. – LR

12. King Krule – Easy Easy (from 6 Feet Beneath the Moon)

While Lorde was busy slamming hip-hop for its fantastical excess, Archy Marshall enlists his deep-throated croon to lambaste gang culture (with a decidedly English take). It’s a beautiful moment in the rising artist’s career; in the chorus he’s calming himself down as a means of carrying on, despite his unsatisying life as a pauper. After the release of this year’s phenomenal 6 Feet Beneath the Moon, Marshall won’t be economically downtrodden for long. – LR

11. Wet – You’re the Best (from Wet)

Finally, the ladies have their answer to alternative R&B in Kelly Zutrau, whose American Idol-worthy vocals are the icing on a cake layered with Joe Valle’s popping production and Marty Sulkow’s meandering, sensual guitar. Lyrically, Zutrau deals with the conundrum of wanting what she shouldn’t and doubting what’s best for her (or knowing what isn’t regardless of how good it feels to have) and nowhere is this attitude more prescient than on the Brooklyn trio’s breakout single. – LR

10. Portugal. The Man – Purple Yellow Red and Blue (from Evil Friends)

On Evil Friends (their seventh studio album), Portugal. The Man enlist prolific producer Danger Mouse to punch up tracks like infectious single “Purple Yellow Red and Blue,” which has all of the workings to be a shout-along live favorite or club-ready dance anthem. While the drug references could maybe be a bit more subtle, it’s the catchy hooks and singable chorus that are truly addictive. – RK

9. Flume feat. George Maple – Bring You Down (from Flume)

Flume’s particular brand of R&B laden electronic dance music (the kind that works so incredibly well when it’s good and is equally atrocious when done poorly) holds a special place in my heart, as both genres herald from my nominal place of origin, Detroit. And indeed, Flume is of the ilk who do this hybrid really really well. “Bring You Down”, featuring the beautiful Australian songstress/producer, George Maple, beckons the listener in within the first few bars of the track, with the lyrics “Hush now, you’re standing on a landmine”. The opening verse builds, advising the listener not to “tread lightly” and “keep your wits about/ let it bring you down”. – AW

8. Darkside – Paper Trails (from Psychic)

The most accessible track off an impeccable album, “Paper Trails” has a velvety, downtempo beat laced with a Dire Straits-esque guitar line. It expertly adopts blues and funk elements, here given a modern facelift by Dave Harrington and Nicolas Jaar. Jaar’s smoldering vocals add a surprisingly earnest touch to what could easily have been vapid, repetitive club-jam lyrics when he reveals paternal, homesick longings; it’s a hint at the warmth this project manages to convey despite its electronic roots. – RD

7. Kanye West – Black Skinhead (from Yeezus)

The quintessential mission statement from Yeezus, Kanye reminds us where he’s been with a razor sharp focus on where he’s about to go. So much of the anger that fueled Yeezus is in full effect on this track, which tackles black-on-black youth violence, criticism from conservative religious groups, both the embrace and loathing received from white “Middle America”, and entrenched racial stereotypes all in the first verse. The industrial beat is a far cry from Kanye’s usual soul-sampling but an appropriate backdrop for his rabid rapping, complete with heavy panting and screeches echoing throughout, literally gasping to imitate the rappers he calls out in the last verse. Kanye’s flow doesn’t often deliver as wholly as his production skills do, but this blistering track is an assured exception. – TT

6. Lucius – Turn It Around (from Wildewoman)

Brooklyn-based band Lucius reference 1960’s girl groups throughout this year’s debut album, Wildewoman, but never do so more euphorically than on “Turn it Around” thanks to a stretchy bass riff and hand-clapping percussion. Jess Wolfe and Holly Laessig take turns singing lead and backup vocals, each accenting the other with spirited yelps and yips before eventually coming together in unison for an ultra-catchy chorus. It’s a great ambassador to the quirky, energetic pop that awaits on the rest of the record. – RK

5. Daft Punk feat. Pharrell Williams – Lose Yourself to Dance (from Random Access Memories)

Goes hand-in-hand with 2013’s best music-related weird twitter tweet:

Daft frowned. "What if we … added a robot voice?" Punk leaned back and grinned. They'd done it again. Their fifth billion dollars.

— Bill Hanstock (@sundownmotel) July 23, 2013

4. David Bowie – Love Is Lost (Hello Steve Reich Remix by James Murphy for DFA) (from The Next Day: Extra)

It’s a simple equation: Bowie vocals over The Rapture’s “Sister Saviour” leftover synth patches circa 2006 times Music for 18 Musicians equals vintage James Murphy genius. But the real reward comes six-and-a-half minutes through when Murphy randomly injects little snippets of Bowie’s 1980 classic “Ashes to Ashes” through all those loops and claps and everyone just goes “Oh, what have you done?”. This is Father, Son, and Holy Ghost level musical trinity at work, brilliantly referenced by DFA’s everlasting production mastermind. – LR

3. Parquet Courts – You’ve Got Me Wonderin’ Now (from Tally All The Things That You Broke)

Released as a teaser for an EP to follow-up last year’s stellar Light Up Gold, this single embodies everything that’s great about the Brooklyn punks, namely their DIY approach to assembling ramshackle rhythms, relentless guitar riffs, and semi-awkward rants (anyone who caught their ultra-extended diatribe tacked to the end of “Stoned and Starving” at this summer’s 4Knots fest can attest to Andrew Savage’s ability to ramble). While the rest of the EP was remarkable mainly for its mention of Crown Heights (WHAT UP!!!!!!) it hints at about a hundred amazing directions the band might take in 2014. – LR

2. Disclosure – When A Fire Starts To Burn (from Settle)

Combine a skillfully chosen, passionate, and catchy vocal sample with an intoxicating feet-stomping, hip-swinging, hand-clapping beat and you’ve got a basic recipe for a crazy, sweaty dance track (yes, this song sounds sweaty). These youngins had a bang-up year following a popular remix for Jessie Ware and a string of buzzy SXSW performances, ultimately leading to sold-out shows at premier NYC venues and the critically acclaimed release of Settle. – RD

1. Haim – The Wire (from Days Are Gone)

The numbers speak for themselves on this one: in November when Spotify decided to quantify the most-played songs by borough, it confirmed a deep obsession with the sisters that spanned Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Queens. And that appeal is certainly not limited to NYC; far and wide, it seemed impossible to get sick of this tune, with its fuzzy electric guitars, indisputably catchy beat, and expertly implemented synth. At its heart, it’s basically a no-frills breakup song (with an amazing music video that features three melodramatic dudes crying over the trio), but interestingly it’s not one that places blame on the rejected partner, who’s “gonna be okay anyway”. All throughout the Haim’s debut, there are examples of that same soul-searching ability, made so accessible by pitch-perfect production and all the right inspirational references. – RD

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FLASHBACK FRIDAY: “Morning Has Broken”

My maternal grandmother, Mary Ann Brown (she is both my namesake and the genetic source of my snarkiness), died three years ago today. She passed away in her sleep at the age of 93 after out-living the entire 20th century and even the first decade of a new millennium (I remember the evening we prank-texted my youngest cousin). She raised three brilliant daughters and saw 8 grandchildren evolve into relatively high functioning adults (jk my cousins are all amazing people). She taught us every card game on the planet (Quiddler being her fave), cooked delicious green bean casserole perfected exclusively by those who lived through the Great Depression, and talked me back from the emotional cliff’s edge after Bush got reelected. It was a sunny November afternoon in DC. I was on the phone with her in tears, me, the idealistic college junior, freaking the fuck out about the world’s imminent demise as a result of what…? Bad policy? She gave this inimitable chuckle of hers and talked to me about all the national elections she’d witnessed in her life. She told me about how with hindsight, you can see that the metaphorical pendulum indeed swings inexorably back and forth across the entire spectrum of human experience, yet when you insist on standing beneath the damn thing watching it from that myopic vantage only the youth seem to stake, one apprehends nothing more than the looming shadow it casts. This simple axiom is something I’ve managed to carry with me and apply to more than the disquieting circumstances surrounding electoral politics. Like, for example, situations in which I have felt powerless to life’s inertia. Or situations in which dead certainty (regarding anything–love, friendship, one’s sense of epistemic truth) becomes crippling doubt in a matter of moments, leaving you with the feeling of numbing loss. Or the experience of slowly crawling back from heartbreak…when the jaws of hell may just finally snap you in half…You feel stamped out, exhausted and dehumanized. Yet, sure enough, (and as if by some act of alchemy), the pendulum swings.

At Mary Ann’s funeral the entire room sang an old Christian hymn “Morning Has Broken”, one of her lifelong favorites, and a beautiful and befitting send-off. And since then whenever I hear it (usually the version below, popularized by Cat Stevens) it stops me dead in my tracks. There’s something indelible and compelling, albeit it elementary, about the chord progression–it starts off in the key of D major and then jumps to C within the first few bars before the opening verse begins (a common device used to induce the feeling of physical transcendence). Halfway through it switches back to D, keeping us in its grips, only to fall to C again. Back and forth it goes for the track’s entirety. By the end it feels like you’re dismounting an emotional roller coaster. This is one of my favorite kinds of songs to listen to: simple and physically gripping in equal measure, all as a result of exceptional composition. The truths expressed lyrically are universal, and coalesce with those exact words of wisdom that she imparted to me nearly a decade ago: A new morning awaits, and you should praise it, for whatever it may bring whether it be adversity or peace, joy or pain. It comes and it goes. And it’s going to teach you something about yourself, which is all we really have in the end.

Listen with your eyes closed (unless you want to see a montage of Cat Steven photos–even though holy shit he was hot in his youth).

PLAYLIST: Christmas Songs That Don’t Suck

Anyone who’s worked in retail can tell you what a headache Christmas carols can be. You’re working eight hour shifts surrounded by irate customers who forgot the meaning of holiday cheer in a rush to get presents for their shitty boyfriends and picky sisters. These people have no regard for the fact that you’re stuck in a mall neatly folding the pile of t-shirts they just demolished instead of out getting sloshed with your friends or exchanging gifts with your loved ones. And all the while, that awful Mariah Carey song is just blaring. Over and over and over again.

I’m of the opinion that not even David Bowie could save “Little Drummer Boy” from being the most annoying piece of music ever composed, and that “Baby It’s Cold Outside” is basically a rape-carol. But that doesn’t mean the whole Christmas catalogue is a lost a cause. There have been a handful of songs (usually lesser known and therefore less overplayed) that can still manage to put me in the holiday spirit instead of making me want to gouge my eyes out with a nutcracker. These are my personal favorites.

Merry Christmas Baby (Please Don't Die) — Dee Dee of Dum Dum Girls & Brandon Welchez of Crocodiles teach Santa to rock on their single “Merry Christmas Baby (Please Don’t Die)”

The Kinks – Father Christmas: Somewhere along the line, I stopped asking my parents for gifts around the holidays and started requesting practical things instead: a trip to the dentist, a gift card to Target, rent money. These things would keep me alive whereas candles from the Dollar Store would not. So I am not sure if I side with Ray Davies or the antagonistic children who mug him while he was playing Santa, but choosing sides isn’t the point. On the one hand, threatening violence is not cool, children can be terrifying, and machine guns are not appropriate gifts. But what these kids really want is jobs for their dads or the cold hard cash that will allow them to survive their harrowing, impoverished existences, rather than dolls or blocks or whatever. They’re just trying to check some volunteer Santa’s privilege (and ours) by reminding us that there are plenty of folks out there who can’t put food on the table at Christmastime (or any other time). But this isn’t some depressing ballad; the message comes in a catchy rock ‘n’ roll wrapping, its riffs Xmassed up with some cheery chimes that make a nice foil for Davies’ ragged snarl.

Sufjan Stevens – Christmas Unicorn: The thing about Sufjan is that all of his songs are about 10,000% better if you just imagine he’s a singing unicorn. And from the first line of this song, he presents himself as not just any unicorn, but a Christmas unicorn, with a mistletoe nose and a shield and a gold suit. Sounds cool right? But wait: Sufjan as the Christmas Unicorn is actually a symbol for American hypocrisy, out-of-control consumerism, Christians adopting Paganism, Baby Jesus, drug addiction and insanity. But this outlandish gem from last year’s epic (what isn’t epic with Sufjan?) Christmas-themed limited edition six LP vinyl boxset Silver & Gold doesn’t stop there. It goes on for twelve minutes and gets so weird it needs a play-by-play. After the introductory takedown of hodgepodge Anglo-American Christian-Pagan ideals, there’s an expansive instrumental break that falls somewhere between swirly space rock and something you’d imagine playing over loudspeakers at a Ren-faire, flutes and all. About halfway through, the meandering melody grows pegasus wings and starts flapping around all wildly a la those choruses from “Chicago”. And eight minutes in, it becomes a Christmasified cover of Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart”. This song is the best kind of holly-jolly trainwreck.

Joni Mitchell – River: Easily one of the most gorgeous songs in Mitchell’s oeuvre (and of all time, pretty much), the power of “River” lies in Mitchell’s ability to evoke nostalgia via her contemplative lyrics and her timeless voice. She’s alone on Christmas due to perceived failures on her part, ruminating on a recent breakup and feeling detached from the festive mood of the approaching holiday. It’s an anthem for any adult’s first Christmas away from home, the first holiday where those carefree childhood days have faded and you can no longer escape all the grown-up responsibilities you have in the simple act of lacing up a pair of skates and taking to the ice. Extra points on the shout out to all the evergreens slaughtered for the sake of Christmas spirit.

The Waitresses – Christmas Wrapping: The Waitresses had two songs. One was the theme song for “Square Pegs” which famously starred Sarah Jessica Parker (before she was famous). And the other is this Blondie-esque narrative about a semi-Scroogey girl having a frustrating holiday/life. See, all year long she’s been bumping into this cutie, and because of her first world problems (like sunburn – ugh!) she’s never actually able to connect with him. The daily stresses keep piling up until she just, like, can’t even with Christmas. I mean, her turkey was all in the oven and she forgot cranberries! But in a fateful trip to the only all-night grocery, she finally finds love; her crush is in the check-out line, having also totally fucked up his grocery shopping. Bright brass and zippy guitar lines are the perfect accent for this tale of bitterness diminished by serendipitous Christmas magic.

The Sonics – Don’t Believe In Christmas: While it seems like any number of bands (especially those on the Burger Records roster) might write a song like this today, it was released in 1965, a decidedly un-scuzzy era for rock n’ roll. It’s snarky and skeptical and goes beyond greedy to straight up entitled, moving about a mile a minute all the while. When you don’t get cool presents or kisses from the ladies, there’s simply no reason to celebrate. Ironically, the single finds its home on an Etiquette Records compilation entitled Merry Christmas, also featuring The Sonics’ singular contemporaries The Wailers and Galaxies. Most of the songs are brilliant originals completely overlooked every December. It makes sense that they don’t play The Wailers’ scathing anti-consumerist romp “Christmas Spirit???” in Saks Fifth Avenue but “She’s Coming Home” and “Maybe This Year” evoke melancholic hope with a slightly psych-tinged execution. That sound carries over into the Galaxies’ unique covers of Christmas favorites. Elsewhere on the record, Santa stiffs The Sonics once again; lead singer Gerry Roslie asks the titular Claus to bring new guitars, money and babes in his sack but gets “Nothin’! Nothin’! Nothin’!”, according to Roslie’s embattled cries. Looks like not believing in Christmas didn’t stop the guy from trying.

John Lennon & Yoko Ono – Happy Xmas (War Is Over): Shortly before the rest of The Beatles started recording Christmas fluff, John Lennon furthered his anti-Vietnam War protest efforts by releasing this 1971 single featuring Yoko Ono and Harlem Community Choir. Lennon believed that coating the political content in sweet, sugary Christmassiness would make his message easier to accept (his Christmessage?). It was not an instant classic, but endures today as a reminder that we should all just get along. It also reminds us that the English say “Happy” instead of “Merry” which shouldn’t fuck with my head as much as it does. The track was produced by Phil Spector (who certainly did not get along with Lana Clarkson, the actress whom he murdered). If you’re going to listen to traditional carols, though, you can do no better than 1963’s A Christmas Gift for You from Philles Records on Spector’s label. There’s even a bearable version of “Frosty the Snowman” by the Ronettes.

The Everly Brothers – Christmas Eve Can Kill You: It’s not just the twangy pedal steel that gives this song its melancholy mood. Its emotionally devastating lyrics are narrated by a sad hitchhiker trying to catch a ride on a frigid Christmas Eve, ignored by drivers in a hurry to get home to their families. The moral of the story is that you should really be kind to your fellow man, especially in the winter, and even more especially on holidays. But let’s also be real – it’s actually dangerous to pick up hitchhikers; they can kill you too.

The Fall – (We Wish You) A Protein Christmas: Okay, so this bizarre offering from The Fall is way more cryptic and terse than say, “Dashing Through The Snow” – what is a Protein Christmas anyway? We may never know. It’s a reference to (and a rewrite of) “Proteinprotection” but, just like a previous episode of Lost, we had no idea what was going on the first time around either and were basically left hanging without answers to the mystery. It might have something to do with DNA, or aliens, or both. But Mark E. Smith’s atonal poetics and Scizophrenic laughter punching through meditative, repetitive bass rhythms make for a great debate winner with your punk friends who think they’re too cool for Christmas.

Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings – There Ain’t No Chimneys in the Projects: No one’s gonna make a fool out of Sharon Jones. Least of all her mother, with that trifling explanation of how presents wound up under her Christmas tree. Replete with a jazzy sax solo that revisits “Jingle Bells”, this groovy soul number from the prolific funk revivalists takes a cynical look at all the continuity errors in the Santa myth while simultaneously pointing out economic inequalities that don’t simply end with a lack of fireplaces in housing developments.

The Flaming Lips – Christmas at the Zoo: In this hazy, lazy jam from Clouds Taste Metallic, Wayne Coyne sings about freeing animals from the zoo Brad-Pitt-in-12-Monkeys style. Zoos are sad fucking places, it’s true, but something about listening to this song is akin to flipping through and filling in a coloring book with your most psychedelic crayons. Rubbery guitars waver like the bars bent back on peacock cages, trumpets sound like liberated elephants. Coyne’s Christmas obsession didn’t fizzle after the release of the song in 1995; they released a secret Christmas album in 2007, re-recording one of the tracks (“Atlas Eets Christmas”) four years later with Yoko Ono Plastic Ono Band. And then there’s Christmas on Mars, a film Coyne wrote, directed, and starred in with other members of the Lips. It debuted at Sasquatch Festival in 2008.

Joey Ramone – Merry Christmas (I Don’t Want To Fight Tonight): This is the only worthwhile selection on Joey’s 2002 Christmas Spirit… In My House EP. It’s got to be one of the few Ramones-related songs that separates “want” and “to” instead of using the stylized “wanna”; I was under the impression that the Ramones had no idea such a thing could be done. Yet here it is, right at the intersection of Christmas cheer and heartfelt pleas to your significant other to end the bickering for once. The reason this song is listenable when the others on the EP are not is mainly because it hearkens back to Ramones glory days, only trading a bit of the usual grit for some shades of Doo-Wop and festive jangle.

Crocodiles/Dum Dum Girls – Merry Christmas Baby (Please Don’t Die): Dum Dum Girls’ collaborated with Crocodiles in a 2009 all-night recording session that resulted in this Yuletide look at love and mortality. Christmas, no joke, is a time when a lot of people struggle with depression, and this song is particularly sweet in that it addresses a lover who seems to have fallen prey to those demons. Real-life couple Dee Dee and Brandon Welchez take turns spreading the cheer in this garage pop jam, which should be enough to rouse even the saddest bopper.

https://play.spotify.com/track/0EYmrHaROYJszJzeTphpn0

Kishi Bashi – It’s Christmas, But It’s Not White Here In Our Town: In this short and swoony number, the multi-instrumentalist with a heart of gold longs for an idyllic, frost-covered wonderland, the reflections as dreamy and romantic as a tape on rewind. Kishi Bashi’s vocals are extra angelic, layered airily over sweet strings. It could have been a great opener for one of those claymation Christmas specials, maybe one in which the protagonist has to fight to save the town from a snow-less winter. But in a real-life heroic move, the musician donated all proceeds from sales of the snowflake-shaped flexi-disc to Ear Candy, a charitable organization that provides kids with used instruments.

The Pogues – Fairytale of New York: There really aren’t enough Christmas songs with the word “faggot” in them. JUST KIDDING, THERE’S ONE TOO MANY. Kirsty MacColl’s cavalier use of the epithet almost disqualified it from the list, but this song is a fixture on so many lists already because all anyone associates with it is ending up in the drunk tank on Christmas and those triumphant “And bells were ringing!” chorus declarations from Shane MacGowan. I considered including Wham!’s “Last Christmas” or The Vandals’ “My First Christmas (As A Woman)”, decided that the latter did more harm than good and that the former represents the kind of annoying things I hate about Christmas songs in the first place. Incidentally, there is no such thing as the NYPD choir. According to the song’s Wikipedia entry, the NYPD does have a Pipes and Drums unit but they didn’t know “Galway Bay” when they appeared in the video for “Fairytale”, playing the Mickey Mouse Club theme instead.

So there you have it. These songs go above an beyond the cloying carols dripping with good tidings. Whether political or personal, they represent a more thoughtful, far less narrow view of what Christmas is about, embracing the controversial and updating the conventional.

In other news, Iggy Pop wants you to have a happy holiday, or go swimming, or cuddle with his cockateel, or something.

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YEAR END LIST: Top 10 Album Covers

Let’s all just agree to agree that hip hop as a genre won the album cover contest this year, okay? Much of the new heavy metal out this year bore covers that ran the gambit between overstatedly woodsy to just plain inexplicable, and pop albums favored stark, angular glamor shots and occasionally left us confused as to why these artists are so mad at us. Release for release, hip hop had some stellar, memorable artwork, much of it instantly iconic portrait art, like Drake’s diptych of his child self mirrored with a matching image of himself as an adult. However, one exclusion from our favorite cover art of 2013 is a hip hop album worth mentioning: Kanye West’s Yeezus.

I know, I know: Yeezus saves. Equally loved and detested, West’s new album will, I predict, come to be one of the lasting albums from 2013, and he’s had his share of notable, exquisite, and ridiculous moments. But Yeezus’ album cover art isn’t any of the above. First of all, the red tape slapped onto the homemade CD is at best a humble-brag for the contents’ breadth and slick production–the record itself is far more magnum opus than it is demo tape, and both West and Yeezus know it. Secondly, it’s neither iconic nor indicative of the year West has had–the image is tepid, and in 2013, the rapper was anything but. Number 10 in our Year End Album Cover countdown employs the same understated formality of Yeezus’ image, but goes for an effect more subtly surreal.

10. Kid Cudi – Indicud

The contrast of the stately frame makes the fire in this image come alive, as if it’s three-dimensional. Dangerous, uncontainable things come inside unassuming packages, and this image is so memorable because it’s unpredictable, framing a scene that doesn’t naturally observe boundaries.

Listen to “Unfuckwittable” off of Indicud here via Grooveshark:

9. Warm Soda – Someone For You

Flat, room-temperature yellow backs this ambivalently nostalgic cover, bringing listless summer days to mind. In fact, the image captures the album’s blistering-but-catchy, vaguely seventies-era sound perfectly.

Listen to “Someone for you” off of Warm Soda here via Grooveshark:

8. The Civil Wars – The Civil Wars

High-definition billowing smoke, a black and grey scale, and the austere white script across the dark grey cloud make this album cover memorably melancholy and archaic. This image looms, foreboding, channeling the loneliness and stark beauty of this band’s self-titled album.

Listen to “From This Valley” off of The Civil Wars here via Soundcloud:

7. The National – Trouble Will Find Me

This odd, and vaguely threatening, photograph evokes a chilly quirkiness that The National’s Trouble Will Find Me delivers. The sterility of the floor–bathroom tiles, maybe–lends a particular spookiness to this shot.

Listen to “I Should Live In Salt”, off of Trouble Will Find Me here via Grooveshark:

6. Bill Callahan – Dream River

The broad brushstrokes of the album’s title look almost like vandalism, as if they’d been painted over an otherwise stylistically intact impressionistic scene. Vast and epic, the foggy image draws my attention to that peeking square of sky above the mountains, and the music on this record is equally complex and easily obscured.

Listen to “The Sing” off of Dream River here via Grooveshark:

5. Tyler, the Creator – Wolf

The yearbook aesthetic is brought off with hilarious attention to detail, but what really makes this cover so bizarre are the faces Tyler, the Creator makes here. Simultaneously nostalgic for and mocking innocence, this rapper nails high school’s un-selfaware awkwardness (no surprise, since the rapper was only twenty-one when this picture was taken).

Listen to “Awkward” off of Wolf here via Grooveshark:

4. A$AP Rocky – Long. Live. A$AP

Sweet baby Jesus, this album cover is terrifying. Strongly evocative of a screenshot from The Ring, A$AP Rocky huddles with his head down, cloaked in an American flag, as the (presumably) VHS film recording him stutters between frames.

Listen to “Purple Swag” off of Long.Live.A$AP here via Grooveshark:

3. Daft Punk – Random Access Memories

Adapting the cursive script made iconic by Michael Jackson’s Thriller to a shiny, austere image of their own, Daft Punk set the standards high for their 2013 release. The album delivered on a grand, complicated scale, setting the band’s course for dance music that was at once nostalgic and intensely intellectualized.

Listen to “The Game Of Love” off of Random Access Memories here via Grooveshark:

2. Death Grips – Government Plates

There’s nothing frill about this stark, badass album, and nothing frilly about the stark, badass album art, either. As nihilistic as the music within, this image zooms in on the message.

Listen to “Birds” off of Government Plates here via Soundcloud:

1. Deafheaven – Sunbather

Like shoegaze metal itself, this cover–an utterly pink black metal album–seems like an illogical combination of things (see the album’s gorgeous Abstract Expressionist-inspired Vinyl design up top as our featured image), but makes glorious sense taken altogether. The image represents a view of the sun from behind your eyelids, a harsh and not wholly possible ascent towards the sublime that perfectly mirrors the journey the group takes over the course of the album.

Listen to “Dream House” off of Sunbather here via Bandcamp:

YEAR END LIST: AF’s Guide to Riot Grrrl’s Influence in 2013

It is a goddamn golden age for girl-fronted punk. It’s not that there haven’t been important works by women in the ensuing years, but 2013 saw a Riot Grrrl Renaissance unlike anything since its early ’90s inception. Back then, Kathleen Hanna had to make safe spaces at Bikini Kill shows for female attendees by calling out aggressive dudes. The ladies at the forefront of the movement had to blacklist the mainstream media that painted them alternately as fashion plates, dykes, or whores (sometimes all three, and always with negative connotations; it shouldn’t be implied that to be any of these things is bad or wrong in the first place). By all accounts, they “couldn’t play” anyway, so the medium and its messages were barely worth discussing as anything more than a passing trend. Meanwhile, riot grrrls preached their radical politics one Xerox at a time.

If the wisdom of these women seemed to skip the generation that adored Britney Spears’ “Hit Me Baby One More Time” without criticism, it has finally come full circle in a way that feels vital and urgent now. Not only are we as a culture stepping up to finally examine sexism and exploitation and appropriation within the industry, there are more acts than ever completely unafraid to do their own thing – be it overtly political (see: Priests) or revolutionary in its emotional candidness (looking at you, Waxahatchee). Maybe it has to do with direct influences of stalwart ensembles like Sleater-Kinney and Bratmobile, and maybe it’s a thing that’s happened gradually as those first voices carved out room for other female performers (for instance, in establishing Rock Camps for young female musicians throughout the country, a project that initially came about through discussions and direct action in riot grrrl communities). There’s no way to make an inclusive list of all the phenomenal bands (punk or otherwise) now blazing their own trails through their various scenes but taking a tally of at least a few of these acts felt like a necessity for me as someone whose entire life was informed by music like this, and girls like them. And because fifteen years after I discovered it for myself, 2013 feels like one giant, celebratory dance party/victory lap.

CARRYING THE TORCH

If 2013 is the year female-fronted punk broke, it has to be said that not all 90’s era veterans burned out or faded politely away. In fact, two of the grunge scene’s most influential women put out intensely personal releases this year.

Kathleen Hanna Kim Gordon — Hanna and Gordon in 1994’s “Bull in the Heather” video

Body/Head, Kim Gordon’s noise project with Bill Nace, created a moving exploration of feminine and masculine tropes in the form of a noise record. I wouldn’t want to reduce Coming Apart to a document of her split from long-time partner Thurston Moore, but the whole thing feels every bit as raw and awkward as a life change that catastrophic must have been. It’s Gordon’s most powerful, wild moments in Sonic Youth distilled down and then blown up. Her vocals can sound desperate and strained at times, but this is ironically the most forceful aspect of the recordings – the anger and the vulnerability existing together in all its anti-harmony.

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Body/Head at St. Vitus — Kim Gordon and Bill Nace perform as Body/Head in June at St. Vitus

Likewise, Hanna’s record is not a chronicle of her late-stage Lyme Disease, the chronic illness that forced her to quit touring with socially-conscious electro outfit Le Tigre (for that, check out Sini Anderson’s brilliant Hanna doc The Punk Singer) but a testament to the triumph that creating it had over her sickness. Reviving her moniker from ’97’s bedroom-recording project Julie Ruin by adding a “The” to the front and four incredible musicians and co-conspirators at her back, the band released Run Fast in September. It manages to meld every one of Hanna’s prior sonic sensibilities, burnishing the the dance-punk of Feminist Sweepstakes with the sass and cacophony of The Singles and adopting the confessional tone of that first solo record.

This is riot grrrl all grown up; though neither project should necessarily bear that particular label, it feels like a continuation of the story that in turn validates its importance. And the influence of Gordon and Hanna and others of their ilk can certainly be heard in a whole host of bands with break-out records that landed this year. Again, it’s not that anyone in these bands are running around calling themselves riot grrrls, just that they’d be right at home on a playlist with bands who did (and bands of that era, from Red Aunts to Discount to that dog., that demanded my affection as equally).

NEXT WAVE

Katie and Allison Crutchfield have been making music since they were teenagers, most notably in P.S. Elliot before splitting up to pursue creative projects as separate entities. Katie released American Weekend in 2012 and Cerulean Salt in March, Allison released a self-titled record with her band Swearin’ last year and followed it up with Surfing Strange a few months ago. The girls are mirror twins, meaning they’re identical but that their features are reversed in some instances, and that’s a good approximation of how their musical projects merge and divide. Cerulean Salt is stripped down sonically and hyper-focused on thematic subject matter, dealing directly with her family history and its personal stories. Swearin’ takes a music-making approach more classic to pop punk, its subject matter just as earnest but with a broader focus. The two have reunited for one-off projects (like an incredible cover of Grimes’ Oblivion for Rookie Mag) and live together in Philly with their boyfriends (both of whom play in Swearin’). In interviews and in their song lyrics they espouse feminist ideas unabashedly and have talked openly about finding inspiration in the riot grrrl movement.

Speaking of Alison’s boyfriend, Kyle Gilbride produced girl-punk supergroup Upset’s debut album, She’s Gone, out this year on Don Giovanni. Uniting Vivian Girls contemporaries Ali Koehler and Jenn Prince with Patty Schemel of Hole, She’s Gone is a quirky collection of catchy, rapid-fire jams that at first listen might come off as slightly superficial. But at the crux of the record is the idea of examining female experience, in particular the formative teenage years, in which break-ups and female rivalry loom large. Taking what might be written off as juvenile and giving it its due importance in song is what makes the album both accessible and relevant. If it seems precocious to compare one’s dreams to a dinosaur, at least it validates them by re-calibrating the scale.

Don Giovanni put out another astounding release in The Worriers’ Cruel Optimist. Fronted by Lauren Denitzio of Measure, the project seeks to combine her interests in literature, art, and queer activism in a way her past musical projects have not. Over hooky guitars and crashing drums, Denitzio talks about privilege in feminism and the need to re-evaluate personal politics with growing older on “Never Were”, references Jeanette Winterson as a way to talk about androgyny and gender identity on “Passion”, and ruminates on the toll that conservative politics took on a personal relationship in “Killjoy”. The album closes with “Why We Try”, a triumphant reminder of the reasons these discussions still need to happen in music and elsewhere. “If we expect something better / things won’t just move forward / Remember why we try“.

In talking about New Brunswick’s esteemed DIY circuit, we’d be remiss to not include Marissa Paternoster, active for several years now in the punk scene there, releasing work under solo moniker Noun as well as with her band Screaming Females. It’s the latter’s most recent release, Chalk Tape, that sees the band going in some very interesting melodic directions with their particularly searing brand of guitar rock, recording most of the songs without revisions based around concepts scrawled on a chalkboard. Paternoster’s commanding vocals, gliding easily between out-and-out aggressive and tender, looped sophistication, paired with her exceptional guitar work, make Chalk Tape a tour de force. Here’s hoping a few misguided Miley fans accidentally stumbled on the wrong “Wrecking Ball”.

Nestled in another well-respected DIY scene, Northampton-based Speedy Ortiz represent a collective of 90’s-era rock enthusiasts with a poet at the helm. Sadie Dupuis feels more comfortable behind a guitar than on open-mike night, but the lyrics she penned for Major Arcana and delivers with brass are practically worthy of a Pulitzer. Razor sharp wit, slyly self-deprecating quips, and vitriol marked by vulnerability characterize the general tone of the record, its particular lyrical references so nuanced and clever it begs about a million listens.

Potty Mouth sprang out of the same scene when Ally Einbinder, frustrated with the difficulties of booking shows and playing in bands with men who rarely asked her input when it came to songwriting, decided to form and all-female punk band. Einbinder and her cohorts are frequent participants in Ladyfest, which has sought to showcase feminist artists across different mediums for thirteen years running. Bursting with energy and attitude, Potty Mouth’s debut Hell Bent calls bullshit on punk scene bravado, questions obsessive tendencies, encourages punk girls in small towns “it-gets-better” style, and delivers acute, sharp-tongued kiss-offs to any doubters.

Though the pun alludes to classically trained harpist and witchy-voiced weird-folk patron saint Joanna Newsom, Alanna McArdle and her compatriots in Joanna Gruesome stray pretty far from that reference point. Instead, the UK band cherry-picks from shoegaze, twee, and thunderous punk with Adderal-fueled ferocity. McArdle is a study in contradictions, one moment singing in a sweet-voiced whisper and the next shouting psychotically, often about crushing skulls or some other, equally violent way of expressing her twisted affections. The group met in anger management, and every second on Weird Sister sees them working out some deeply seated issues, the end result proving what a gift anger can be.

NEXT YEAR

This particular calendar year, it seems, is only the beginning. With a record crate’s worth of amazing releases from 2013, there’s a bevvy of bands with bandcamp profiles, demos, EPs, cassettes and singles that hold a lot of promise for future releases. Across the board, when asked how their bands formed or when they started playing, the response is “I wanted to do it so I got a guitar and I just started playing.” The DIY ethos and “fuck it” attitude are what make these projects so vital and exciting.

Priests

The DC group are explosive live, in particular thanks to Katie Greer’s spastic growl and Daniele Withonel’s revelatory drumming. The band’s been known to spout off about anti-consumerism between songs, out of breath from the high-energy set, but there’s plenty of radical content in their self-released tapes, too. Those searching for manifestos need look no further than “USA (Incantations)”, a spoken-word bruiser that skewers the non-inclusive founding of America and ends with “this country was not made for you and it was built on lies and murder”; it kind of makes me want to vote for Priests for president. Elsewhere on Tape 2, Withonel steps from behind her drum kit to flip the script on the male gaze, with perfect Kathleen Hanna pitch. Whether they’re singing about Lana del Ray or Lillian Hellman, these self-described Marxists provide an electrifying listen.

Perfect Pussy

Perfect Pussy plays notoriously brief shows – if you blink during their set, you’ll miss ’em – but all have played the Syracuse scene for years now. The quartet got a lot of attention this over I Have Lost All Desire For Feeling, a four song EP with walls of guitar fuzz and synths and some forceful vocals from Meredith Graves buried low in the mix. Trained in opera but trying out punk, she’s said that because she’s insecure about her singing they’ll likely stay that way when the band records a full length. But it’s not because she’s trying to hide her words – you can read them by clicking through each song on Perfect Pussy’s bandcamp. They are well worth extracting from the sludge, coming across like a Jenny Holzer send-up of rape culture, mixed in with some personal meditations on growing past a female betrayal and catharsis through relationships thrown in for good measure.

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Palehound

Ellen Kempner writes off-kilter lyrics that perfectly distill the wonder and worry that comes with being a teenager, but with a wise, almost nostalgic tone that does not belie the fact that she is, actually, a freshman in college, living these experiences for the first time. Her musician father taught her how to play guitar, and in high school she was in a band called Cheerleader before releasing some solo recordings that morphed into Palehound. Their excellent Bent Nail EP came together this year, featuring the quintessential “Pet Carrot”, which seesaws from sing-songy folk to scuzzy 90’s grunge more reminiscent of Liz Phair than of Lorde.

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Cayetana

The Philly trio are a perfect picture of female solidarity, repping other girl bands from Philly in interviews and inking their bodies with matching arrow tattoos, as well as getting involved with Philly’s Ladyfest. They sing about friendships and loss and the city around them with a raspy roar, holding back just enough on their three-song demo to hint at the spaces they’ll grow into.

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All Dogs

Coming out of Columbus, Ohio’s great lo-fi scene (which bands like Times New Viking and Psychedelic Horseshit helped build, and contemporaries Sex Tide and Connections will only continue), All Dogs take that same energy and clean up the grime just a bit to let Maryn Bartley’s hopelessly catchy vocal melodies shine. There’s a youthful exuberance and earnestness that propels the material on their split cassette with Slouch and their self-titled 7″ released on Salinas Records. The Crutchfield sisters have been big early supporters; Katie booked them as openers on an upcoming Waxahatchee tour after saying they “made her cry”.

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Tweens

About an hour south in Cincinatti, Bridget Battle takes an endearing 60’s girl group intonation and spits it snottily into a microphone while her bandmates in TWEENS play messy, immediate punk rock. Their CMJ performances earned them rave reviews and helped them release a bit of the energy they’d pent up during the recording of their first full-length in DUMBO, set to see release sometime this spring. Until then, they’ll be touring with fellow Ohioans the Deal sisters for The Breeders’ extended reunion shows.

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Heavy Bangs

“I don’t care what you think as long as I can’t hear it / I’ll be a fly some other place. / I don’t care what you do / As long as you stay away from me / I can’t stand the way you do the things you do.” So begins “All the Girls” from Heavy Bangs’ bandcamp demos. It’s a departure from the quirky indie pop Cynthia Schemmer played as guitarist for Radiator Hospital, but it takes cues from the same attention to clever melody. The best indication of what might come from her solo project are the artful and contemplative postcards she posts to her tumblr (http://cynthiaschemmer.tumblr.com/) before sending them to to friends, apologetically explaining why Philly drew her back after time in New York, or recounting conversations she had with a therapist over the loss of illusions. Like the two tracks she’s shared, these can feel sad but are intently self-aware, the attention to detail speaking volumes between the lines.

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Are those alive in a golden age ever able to really realize it? Or can it only be understood by looking back? With the passage of time we grow older and wiser and we’re better able to put things into context, but there are some moments that are simply meant to be lived. If you’re not screaming at the top of your lungs to these records or dancing in the front row at one of these shows, you’re doing it wrong.

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TRACK OF THE WEEK 11/25: “Gillie Amma, I Love You”

In the spirit of giving thanks and giving back, we’re featuring Four Tet’s mesmerizing “Gillie Amma, I Love You” as this week’s track of the week. The song comes from upcoming double album BOATS, part of the ambitious Everything Is New project benefitting Dalit (“untouchable”) children in southeast India.

The track samples the dulcet voices of the Light of Love Children’s Choir, comprised of only some of the 600 children who reside at the Light of Love Home and School in Andhra Pradesh, India. Four Tet unwaveringly focuses on the children’s voices, some softly speaking, others singing or humming, all of them expertly and delicately layered so as to create an atmospheric, almost elegiac quality. Very little is added instrumentally—a velvety synth quietly thrums along, building up only slightly near the end as the voices become echoes. The song closes with a few raspy, indistinguishable noises and whispers, like ghosts. It’s an overall amazingly subtle but powerful effect—melancholy, meditative, and time-stoppingly gorgeous.

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“Gillie Amma, I Love You” is the fourteenth track on the 29-track-long BOATS, featuring new original music from No Age, Deerhoof, Dan Deacon, YACHT, Son Lux, Bear In Heaven, El Guincho, A Sunny Day In Glasgow, and a whole slew of other artists. The double-disc compilation will be the second of two albums released Jan. 20 (the first being Scottish band Marram’s album Sun Choir featuring collaborations with Owen Pallett, doseone, and Jarvis Cocker) via Scottish-based arts collective Transgressive North, which is working in partnership with charity organization Scottish Love In Action to raise funds for the Light of Love Children’s Home. Proceeds from the two releases, as part of the six-year long effort behind the Everything Is New Project, will go directly to providing food, clothing, education, and medical care to the Dalit children cared for at Light of Love. Every track included on BOATS features samples of the Light of Love Children’s Choir.

The project describes itself as an “attempt to counter any inherited preconceptions the children might have about their own value and legitimacy by giving them the opportunity to ‘star’ in music and film works specifically designed to celebrate and empower their identities and means of expression.” You can learn more about the Everything Is New Project, and the organizations behind it, at these websites:

www.everythingisnewproject.com

www.transgressivenorth.com

www.sla-india.org

ROADTRIP: Moonface and My Bloody Valentine in Philly

Part mix-tape, part choose-your-own-adventure, AudioFemme leaves the confines of NYC to bring you long-form accounts of the crazy things we do for the love of live-music. In this installment, Lindsey travels to Philly for Moonface and My Bloody Valentine, with plenty of pit-stops along the way. – Eds.

In February I lay on my couch with headphones on, slow tears streaming from the corners of my eyes and into my hair. I was listening to m b v, the first record by Dublin shoegazers My Bloody Valentine to be released in over twenty years and I felt as though my blood was running backwards. I’d discovered them long after their seminal Loveless had been released, unearthing the quintessential record as a high schooler at the dawn of digital downloading. In college, I dated a guy who introduced me to their earlier releases, and I fell in love with those songs as hard as I fell for him. They were a band that I considered mostly inactive, even as Kevin Shields involved himself in side projects here and there, even as Lost In Translation brought the band’s music to larger masses. Even when they “reunited” for shows in far-off places like Indio and London and Niigata (places it seemed impossible to get to) I thought of My Bloody Valentine as a completed project from which new music would never really come. And I’d pretty much given up hope of ever seeing them live. But then out of nowhere came m b v, with its gliding, grinding guitar on “who sees you” which felt like an extension of Loveless, its punishing flanger on “wonder 2” sounding not just like the end of the record, but the end of the fucking world…

My pulse quickened not only to hear these new compositions, but also because I knew there’d be a tour behind them. And I could already picture myself in the audience with more tears streaming down my face.

* * *

Months later when My Bloody Valentine tour dates were announced, I could already see that the NY dates at Hammerstein would be prohibitively expensive. But they were playing Philly, too – at The Electric Factory – and ticket prices were literally half the cost of those here. A good friend of mine who’d been begging me to come down all summer offered to host me for the weekend and the decision was made. So last Friday, I stood shivering on 6th Avenue, waiting for a Bolt bus.

My Bloody Valentine tickets — seeing these made my heart leap.

I felt almost melancholy; it had been a strange week. I’d lost my wallet after getting wasted at my ex boyfriend’s birthday bash on Tuesday, gone home with him, and burst into tears mid-makeout. It was no secret that I’d had flings with this Philly friend off and on for the last eight years of my life, and my ex didn’t really want me to go, sometimes saying it was only because he felt left out, other times admitting that he didn’t want things to be over between us. Philly friend had come down with strep throat and though he claimed to no longer be contagious that pretty much ruled out any hook-ups anyway. So my weekend of sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll seemed doomed from the get-go. But the thought of missing My Bloody Valentine filled me with a dread so excruciating that all I could do was shuffle onto that bus, find a seat, and watch the skyline fade behind me.

On the way down I listened to She’s Gone, the debut of supergroup Upset. Vocalist Ali Koehler and guitarist Jenn Prince are contemporaries of what can be described most simply as the Vivian Girls scene (both played in the band at one time or another, as well as several of its satellite projects) but what blew my mind most was that Patty Schemel (as in, Patty Schemel of fucking HOLE) was drummer of the band. My anxieties started to fade in a wash of bubblegum-snapping, toe-tapping pop punk. The little details took me back to my youth, from the disaffected chuckle at the beginning of semi-snotty “About Me” through the brazen “I just want to take you under the covers” coo on “Game Over”. All the songs stay short and sweet and two minutes at a time, my heart lightened.

And then “Let It Go” summed up my exact position in the universe at that moment:

i kissed the bottle when i coulda been kissin you / i know that i shouldn’t be missin you / so i’ll try / but how will i let this one go / i wish the subtle things i say to you / would read the way i want them to / but i know i should try and / just let this one go / you can call this an obsession or an indiscretion but i just dunno if / i can let this one go / you wanted romance well here it is / i just wanna love you from afar / and keep you just the way you are / safely distant from my heart / but close enough still / to keep that spark

…caught geographically and emotionally between two boys, neither really a viable option at this point.

I was so nostalgic for the days I’d spend driving around with my high-school punk rock partner-in-crime Patti that I actually sent her a facebook message though we haven’t spoken in two years.

There are so many albums coming out lately that I really wish I could listen to driving around Northeast Ohio with you. You have to check out Swearin’ and Upset and Perfect Pussy and Priests and Joanna Gruesome and Waxahatchee and Hunters and Tweens!!!! It’s a golden age of girl-fronted pop punk and a GREAT time to start up our band 73 Cents (or the Vanities as I wanted to call us). Hope you’re well!

No response yet. I tweeted:

Pretty much every band I've been listening to lately sounds like a that dog. throwback and I couldn't be happier

— Lindsey Rhoades (@le_jazzz) November 8, 2013

Then I actually put on that dog. and melted into wistful reverie until my phone warned me my battery was at 20%. So not punk.

* * *

Philly friend fed me grilled cheeses and spicy tomato soup and meatloaf sandwiches and tater tots from his favorite bar as soon as I got in. We dropped my things off at his house and I met his cats and his roommate and her pug who has a licking-things compulsion. Spencer Krug was playing at Underground Arts that night under his solo moniker Moonface to support his new record Julia With Blue Jeans On and I insisted we go; I’d been lucky enough to see him at Littlefield in Brooklyn the spring prior when he’d debuted a lot of the material that wound up on the record and the set was just gorgeous. In the bar earlier while I was shoving food in my face they were playing Wolf Parade’s flawless 2005 record Apologies to the Queen Mary so I was already primed for Krug’s crooning.

Underground Arts is a new venue in Philly with a lot of big plans. After Moonface they were hosting an Afrobeat dance party in the back room, which was actually larger than the one where Krug was set to play. I glanced at a poster on the column we’d committed to lean against and noticed that Thee Oh Sees had played there at the end of October and if I’d known how great this venue was I would’ve come down for that, too. Their beers on tap were legit, the sound was perfect, the floor plan pretty open (they’d set up chairs in clusters around the stage for the night’s performance that could easily be reconfigured or removed depending on the performer).

Saltland, a.k.a. musician Rebecca Foon, was already playing when we arrived. Foon is best known for stints in Esmerine and A Silver Mt. Zion and her solo project, while hinging on her very skilled cello compositions, also features some loops, backing tracks, and powerful if occasional vocals. She gave shout-outs to her mother’s charity organization, repped Montreal, thanked Krug and called his audiences “beautiful” and kicked her right leg like a marionette with a charley horse as she sawed her bow across the cello’s strings in more urgent passages. The songs took turns as dramatic and expansive as the imagery inherent in Foon’s nom-de-plume would suggest.

Krug and Foon have been friends for a while, coming from the same city and sharing a music scene, and they both display the trademark humility Canadians are stereotypically known for. Krug’s long hair obscured his face anytime he leaned over to play piano, but he would conscientiously tuck it behind his ear when he turned to address the audience with anecdote or gratitude, casually flashing a million-watt smile. He explained that he’d mainly planned to play through the material from his latest record before opening with album stunner “Love The House You’re In” . Even from the get-go, his voice was emotive and intense, needing no build-up or practice to slip into its full-bodied range. His piano playing was deliberate and complex and though he complained of some broken keys and out-of-tune-ness it sounded perfect with or without the supposed flaws.

Spencer Krug Moonface live Philly Underground Arts — Spencer Krug, a.k.a. Moonface @ Underground Arts, Philly

True to his word, he stuck to material from Julia, moving through powerful renditions of the title track, singles “Barbarians” and “Everyone is Noah, Everyone Is The Ark”, as well as “Black Is Back In Style”, “First Violin” and “Your Chariot Awaits”. There was one song with the line we both know that we’re both crazy that had really stuck with me from the show I caught in May and was particularly delighted to find on the record. Krug introduced this song, “November 2011”, as his most straightforward love song. “If you’re thinking of proposing to someone now would be the time” he laughed. Someone in the back of the audience shouted “Marry ME!” but Krug politely declined before launching into the relatively bright, sweet melody.

It’s hard to know how personal to get here, how much to reveal. I can tell you that the first time I heard that song I was standing next to my ex and we were in the midst of a doomed reconciliation, but he looked down at me and took my arm and held my hand and I’ll never not think of that moment when I hear the song. I can also tell you that in 2005, a few months after I met Philly friend, I invited him to come visit me in Ohio and we had a time that very closely follows the narrative of the song. I can tell you that when Krug was one verse in, a lady near the bar fell off of a table she was sitting on and it clattered and it broke some of the gravity of all those memories, just a little. I don’t know how many details it’s appropriate to share, ever.

* * *

We went to a whiskey and go-go bar after the show that made me wish New York didn’t have weird cabaret laws. I drank Willet on the rocks and an elderberry cider and I can’t remember any music we might have heard in the bar or otherwise discussed. We went to another bar and got late night snacks (duck confit potato skins and pineapple habanero chicken wings) and he confessed he was kind of involved with another girl who sort of wanted to get serious and I confessed that I had no idea what was even going on with my love life and we laughed all the way to his place where I immediately fell asleep under an electric blanket trying to watch movie trailers on the Carnosaur DVD I’d found on his shelf earlier that day and had been making fun of him for owning since.

* * *

The next morning we drove to a Tex-Mex brunch place where I got a breakfast quesadilla filled with eggs and smokey pulled pork and something called a Cowboy Coffee which had Kahlúa and Bulleit in it. They were playing a pretty decent punk mix which is so different from the Michael Bublé bullshit I’m used to hearing at brunch that I got really wound up when Thee Oh Sees came on. We checked out a couple junk stores and I insisted on listening to the new Swearin’ record as we drove around because they’re from Philly and I’m an obsessed creep.

When I lived in the Midwest the place I listened to music most was in my car. Now I’m on a bike constantly (at least before the winter winds turn me into a wimp) or taking public transportation from Point A to Point B either lacking headphones or with my only mechanism for playing mp3s threatening a swift death if I open Spotify. So these days, it’s a bit weird to find myself in the front seat of a car cruising down highways and side streets and everything in between. Swearin’s first single from Surfing Strange puts me right back in the driver’s seat, if not literally.

We picked up my friend’s roommate and headed to the Trenton Punk Rock Flea Market. She has this wry sense of humor, not wholly unblemished by the bitterness that goes along with sticking close to the same music scene your whole life. Having grown up in the Trenton area, it seemed like she knew everyone. The flea was filled with hand-made jewelry and record crates almost too overwhelming to dig through and the softest thrifted tees in bins labeled 4 for 10$ and lots of horror-movie paraphernalia and vintagey goodness. We drove back to Jersey with No Age blasting and the sun setting against Philly’s approaching skyline. We refueled with food and beer flights at Johnny Brenda’s where Tim Kasher was playing later that night. But we’d be at My Bloody Valentine, of course.

* * *

As showtime drew nearer I felt an excitement growing that I rarely feel about shows anymore. Most of the time I’m attending shows to check a new band out, or sometimes just because it’s something to do instead of staying home. Even with bigger bands whose catalogues I cherish I don’t feel jittery and I knew it was more than the Cowboy Coffee. I really felt poised to have a moment with Kevin Shields & Co., to be cleansed by intense volume and lose myself in guitar haze.

We got to the venue after Dumb Numbers had played. It took almost an hour for My Bloody Valentine to set up, a ring of monitors and amps poised to surround Shields like a sonic Stonehenge. I’m normally pretty good about weaving my tiny self politely toward the front of a crowd but the way Electric Factory was set up it bottlenecked between the impenetrable bar and the sound booth and a wall of the tallest people I’ve ever encountered had already posted up shoulder-to-shoulder between the two. I thought the crowd might shift a little and open up but nothing moved so we decamped to a balcony. The sightlines were great but it certainly wasn’t as excruciatingly loud as I’d wanted it to be, and the psychedelic light show couldn’t quite penetrate the darkness up there in the rafters in any retina-scorching way. Still, I was pretty pumped for things to get started.

They opened with “Sometimes” before I even felt prepared for it and it oddly felt like they were just trying to get it out of the way. As the show went on it felt more and more like the band didn’t even want to play with each other. Like chewing pot roast in silence at an awkward family dinner after mom and dad have been fighting, the quartet plodded through “I Only Said” and “When You Sleep” before appropriately introducing their most recent material with “new you”. By then, some worrisome sound issues were cropping up. I’d expected the mix to be a little muddy, especially as they visited works from Isn’t Anything, Tremelo, and You Made Me Realise – that is, after all, part of the allure of My Bloody Valentine’s oeuvre. But it wasn’t that the vocals were buried under fuzz – it was like the fuzz was flat. It all felt sloppily executed; the layers of distortion feeling disparate instead of layering gracefully on top of one another. Several times, Shields stopped songs a few bars in and restarted them. It was unclear whether these technical difficulties were occurring due to fault of the venue, but even from so far away I could see Shields point an accusatory finger at the audio engineer present on stage. Worried techs rushed out here and there in a desperate attempt to try to alleviate some of the problems but the whole thing seemed like a train wreck.

In the purest, most unsullied moments I felt a sort of dizziness, and though part of that was true exhilaration, I think it also happened because I had to hold my breath lest the magic dissolve in some tragic technical difficulty. “To Here Knows When” went off without a hitch and exuded an incredible warmth, “wonder 2” was almost as assaulting as I’d wanted it to be but I couldn’t help feeling like it should have been bumped way up in the set instead of buried near the end. The squall of closer “You Made Me Realise” almost approached bliss but the so-called “Holocaust” section felt like little more than an “Off-handed Anti-Semitic Remark” section. Which, referring to the jam session you tack on the end of your set as one of the most tragic genocides in human history probably is. And then Shields, who said little all night in terms of between-song banter except to apologize here and there for the technical difficulties, said what I could have sworn was “Fuck” but I guess could have been “Thanks” in heavy Brogue. Either way, he stomped offstage like a petulant child, the lights came up, and there was no encore.

The roughly 80-minute set was about as long as it had been in other cities, other venues, and the list pretty much identical. But I felt so jilted by the experience it was all I could do to not immediately buy tickets to the $70 Hammerstein shows I had been trying to avoid in the first place. I was stunned and crushed and not in the way I had expected to be at all. I didn’t want to believe that it had gone so badly, that what would likely be my only experience with a band so beloved would be utter rubbish. And almost everyone tweeting about the show had only glowing remarks with almost no mention of the sound issues, which made me feel as if I was going crazy. Other attendees were saying it was the best show they’d ever seen (do you even go to any shows ever actually?) and using pretentious phrases about “angelic drone” and all I could feel was total jealousy of their ability to suspend disbelief and make delusional snap judgments. I wanted to love that show more than anything and instead it was one of the hugest let-downs in terms of concert-going that I’ve experienced in my life.

* * *

I get that sometimes things aren’t the way you expect them to be. That often, disappointment goes hand-in-hand with any expectation at all. That you might imagine one scenario and have the reality end up completely opposite from the fantasy.

I spent the rest of my evening stress-eating cheesesteaks (from Pat’s – far superior to Geno’s in my opinion) and decompressing in front of a pinball machine. In the morning over cream-cheese filled Pumpkin French Toast and Chicken N’ Waffles Benedict I apologized to Philly friend for being so emotionally detached and physically hands-off, citing weird feelings I was having about my ex in NYC and my resent lack of self-esteem as factors contributing to why I’d been less than present. He shrugged and said he’d just assumed I was worried about catching Strep. Then he asked me why I’d been feeling so bad about myself. “I’m just tired and I feel old” I said, “and I haven’t been going to yoga.”

I am searching for a balance right now, but the ease I long for has been elusive. Weighty memories and distorted renderings are fine when it comes to a live music experience but there’s been too much of both in my personal life lately and it’s really complicating my ability to make decisions about the future of my relationships.

Back on a Bolt bus and headed home, I listened through Static, the newest from Brooklyn-based dream-poppers Cults. Vocalist Madeline Follin and guitarist Brian Oblivion had formed the band as couple but split up after a grueling tour in support of their critically acclaimed self-titled debut. No one wanted to make a big deal about the break-up, worried that the focus would shift from the music to the personal lives of the duo behind it.

For what it’s worth, the record stands alone without that back-story; it’s a bit grittier and fuzzier than the last collection of songs we heard from the group but is still akin to that material in its updated 60’s girl-group pop vibe. Follin and Oblivion are joined by members of the touring band they enlisted to help flesh out the material live, and that synergy and practice shows on Static. While there aren’t as many standout singles on the record, the dark undertones that the band typically bury in sunny melody here have their moments in the forefront, allowing for greater depth. Cults has grown up.

That being said, the fact that Static was written and recorded by former lovers lends another kind of weight to tracks more outwardly breezy. Follin is known for her impish vocals but lyrically she displays a no-nonsense bravado. She comes across as disappointed in the turn of events despite knowing that things are over and is determined to move on, castigating her former lover and her former self on “Were Before” and then delivering healthy doses of inspiration in the soaring “Keep Your Head Up”.

Follin and Oblivion could have chosen to break up the band when their relationship ended, of course. Instead, we have Static, because there was too much there to walk away entirely. The force behind their creative collaboration was all the glue that was needed to pull everything back together, and it’s a permanent fixture in the group’s trajectory. “Always and Forever” highlights and celebrates the remnants of that relationship and the form that it’s now taken on, with Follin unleashing her sky-high falsetto.

I suppose there are just feelings that endure no matter the circumstance, no matter the disappointment involved as time marches forward. I’m not going to throw my copy of Loveless in the trash based on one lackluster live performance. And even though I wish I possessed the strength to whip my personal life into shape, I’m more in a position to be bandied by unpredictable whims than I am to take control. At the root of all it is true sentiment unraveling endlessly from my sensitive heart, drowning out everything else like so much noise.[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: “The Murder Mystery”

When I sat down to write my first entry for Audiofemme, I knew that I wanted to write about Lou Reed. While there are undoubtedly swarms of articles surfacing in memory of the late Lou Reed, I found that journalists mostly took one of two routes; some discussed Reed’s life and his social impact in popular culture, while others discussed his influence on punk, rock and alternative music. Being a lifelong Velvet Underground and Lou Reed fan, I believe that Reed’s actual musical contributions are what should be commemorated in the wake of his recent passing. I will highlight here one of the Velvet Underground’s more underrated songs, “The Murder Mystery”, off of their 1969 self-titled album.

If you have never heard “The Murder Mystery” before, listen to it immediately. It’s one of the Velvet’s quintessential songs, incorporating rhythmic and melodic dissonance, sound feedback and unconventional composition. “The Murder Mystery” consists of four different songs that have been forced together to create one song . Each member of the group sings/recites their own narrative. These narratives are constantly clashing. All four band members (Reed, Maureen Tucker, Sterling Morrison and Doug Yule) speak over each other, either by overlapping the other’s narrative, reciting lines at half the speed of the other, or by completely clashing.

The song is just shy of nine minutes long, and is divided into two parts, with a brief transitional section. The first five minutes follow the same format, consisting of verses with two narratives directly clashing while Tucker and Yule sing a brief chorus of overlapping melodies. At around six minutes into the song the music starts to climax and the rhythms develop dissonance as the music becomes increasingly discordant. This is elevated when the track is suddenly filled with feedback and Yule haphazardly slams on the keys of a organ.

The final section is the most interesting. Amongst all this disorder, a poppy, upbeat chord pattern is introduced on the organ. The discordance fades as the organ increases and the last verse of the previous section is cut short mid-word. This new section is accompanied by new vocal patterns, where two different narratives are recited in unison. The organ accelerates and the lyrics of the song become increasingly macabre.

“…contempt, contempt, and contempt for the seething for writhing and reeling and two-bit

reportage, for sick with the body and sinister holy, the drown burst blue babies now dead

on the seashore, the valorous horseman, who hang from the ceiling, the pig on the

carpet, the dusty pale jissom…”

The music accelerates as clashing chords and notes appear amongst the original pattern. Someone smashes on the organ once again, as a mountain of noise builds briefly only to fade out. The dichotomy between the cheerful melody and the morose lyrics creates a sinister atmosphere that adds to the unsettling feeling that “The Murder Mystery” leaves you with.

The lyrics of the whole song are extremely esoteric and hard to interpret. Most of the song feels like a flow of consciousness, making it impossible to follow. At times it seems like they are ranting about the superficiality of the popular music scene:

“ …with cheap simian melodies, hillbilly outgush, for illiterate ramblings for cheap

understanding the simple the inverse, the compost, the reverse, the obtuse and stupid,

and business, and business, and cheap, stupid lyrics, and simple mass reverse while

the real thing is dying…”

At other times it just seems like the lyrics are so meaningless that they are mocking the listeners: “No nose is good news” . Sometimes they are self-referential, making subtle nods to “Sister Ray” and “Black Angel’s Death Song.”

To say that I completely understand this track would be a lie. It is, however, one of the Velvet’s most innovative and unconventional songs. The Velvet Underground made a creative shift on this album, most likely as a result of John Cale’s departure from the group. Other members of the group began to feature more prominently, and Reed moved away from his power rock guitar chords to a more lo-fi folk sound. Listen to the “The Murder Mystery” first all together, and then listen to it again with only one ear to your headphones, to decipher each narrative.

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FLASHBACK FRIDAY: Kings of Leon “Youth and Young Manhood”

Anthony Caleb Followill, Ivan Nathan Followill and Michael Jared Followill — who go by their middle names — spent their childhood traveling the southern states while their father, Ivan Leon Followill, delivered sermons as an United Pentecostal Church pastor. As detailed in the Kings of Leon’s documentary, Talihina Sky, their father’s religion had a great influence on the family. The boys were enrolled in religious education when they were not home-schooled by their mother, Betty Ann. Eventually, Ivan became overwhelmed by his religion, which may have been a contributing factor in his divorce with Betty Ann and the boys going their own way — Caleb and Nathan moved to Nashville, Tenn., their birth state, to try their hand at music. They had performed in choirs with their church, but now that they were on their own and free of the religion’s strict hold, they began experimenting with heavy drugs and rock and roll. The two rejected the idea of a musical duo and recruited their younger brother Jared as their bassist — although at the time he had no experience with a guitar — while Caleb and Nathan would become vocalist/guitarist and drummer, respectively. Once they “kidnapped” their cousin Matthew to play guitar, the band was set.

Caleb and Nathan had signed a deal with RCA, who promised to check up on the band after a month. In that month, the brothers and cousin began planning what would become the Holy Roller Novocaine EP, a five-track offering of drug-induced hard rock with blues influence, released in 2003. The boys sang of women, narcotics and fame. Their hair was long and their bellbottoms were flared: they were the image of southern rock and rebellion. Four songs of Holy Roller Novocaine became part of the band’s first full release, Youth and Young Manhood, later that year.

The album opens with clashing guitars and drums and Caleb’s quick lyrics about a girl prostituting herself and the attitude of the men she serves. This song quickly sets the tone of the rest of the album full of smoky rooms and rock and roll. The best of the album is found in the songs riffed from Holy Roller Novocaine. “California Waiting” involved Caleb crooning about how he just wants to be alone and live his life how we wants without the influence of others. “Molly’s Chambers” was redone to a quick, hard-hitting jam about a girl who enslaves men in her “chambers” for her fun. They both hate and love this temptress. “Holy Roller Novocaine” is probably the track most straightforwardly about drugs — and also sex, of course, likely the result of many days spent in the Followill’s basement, jamming and drugging, (just like all great rock and roll, right?) The closing track ends with “Talihina Sky,” a rare, slower track for this album. The song is a homage to their hometown in Tennessee and explores the theme of leaving. Beautiful both sonically and conceptually, it is the track that they later used as the name of their documentary and is probably one of their best overall. It’s relatable in the sense of wanting to leave home, and offers a serious note regarding the themes of drugs and sex, pervasive throughout the album.

Youth and Young Manhood set Kings of Leon up on their path to stardom. It’s interesting to think that before Caleb penned 2008’s “Use Somebody,” a commercial hit, he and his family were producing music of this nature. But it’s some of their best work. The brothers and cousin revisited some of their roots with Mechanical Bull‘s “Don’t Matter,” paying homage to some of the rock that influenced them early on. Though they’ve evolved in their sound — some say “selling out” into the mainstream — they will always maintain that southern rock and roll ethos they developed in the beginning.

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ALBUM REVIEW: Our Solar System’s Vårt Solsystem

Our Solar System describe themselves as “a floating crowd of people, where everyone who wants to be part of creating within these cosmic frames is welcome.” That’s about as specific as they get, but we do know the newly formed Swedish music collective includes ten musicians hailing from other Swedish bands like Dungen and Life on Earth!. Their debut album, released Oct. 29 on NYC label Beyond Beyond is Beyond, is a compelling piece of concept art, composed around the artists’ thoughts and feelings about—you guessed it—our solar system. Vårt Solsystem is a pretty short album, with the ten tracks (each representing a planet, but also including the asteroid belt and Pluto) clocking in at a little over 45 minutes long.

The prerequisite with Vårt Solsystem, which was recorded live over the span of two nights in Stockholm, is to listen to it all the way through with no interruptions. All of the tracks lead seamlessly into one another, creating the sense that this is all one whirlwind journey through space—some kind of quick guided tour that stops at each planet for photo ops and bathroom breaks. The first track (and the first stop on our tour), “Merkurius,” bursts open like the big bang itself, spilling out a frenzied blend of flute, bass, drums, and keyboard effects (to name a few of the main players) that quickly coagulate into a fast-paced rhythm perfect for take off.

“Venus” has a very interstellar sound, stripped down but volatile, tranquil and suspenseful at the same time, which I would think is a pretty accurate portrayal of what traveling through space might feel like. We then come to “Jorden”—Earth—which is the shortest track on the record, comprised solely of an amalgam of voices, some speaking emphatically (“JUST LEAVE!”) and others softly singing (“Are you lonesome tonight…”). The two minutes of poetic white noise give you just enough time to picture our little Earth as if from afar and wonder what each of its billions of inhabitants are doing at that exact moment.

According to their bio, Our Solar System perform their shows “in identical outfits adorned with planetary symbols to highlight the concept’s power over the individual.” That sounds pretty zany but once you get into this album, you begin to realize that the “concept’s power” is for real. For me, the moment of realization came right after “Jorden” and before “Mars,” a chaotic and heavy concoction with a slight Jimi Hendrix tincture. The five-minute-long track comes to an off-putting end, though, as cooing voices become a little frightened and then become high pitched, panicked shrieks. Mars sounds like a straight up scary planet, which is made more apparent when contrasted with the subsequent, minimalist, and quintessentially alien-sounding track, “Asteroidbältet.”

Next are the two longest tracks, “Jupiter” and “Saturnus.” The former is a bass heavy, hazy number—appropriate for a planet that’s perpetually cloudy and tempestuous. “Saturnus,” on the other hand, begins seductively, with a smooth, female voice ooh-ing and aah-ing, but as the song progresses the voice takes on a weary quality and the instrumentals become frantic and overwhelming.

The trip continues with “Uranus,” a very Sigur Ros-esque, melancholy affair replete with wailing violins, subdued electric guitar, and a celestial choir of female voices. This leads into “Neptunus,” which first lulls you into a sense of happy serenity, as if you’re floating through a stream of stars, before picking up into a ‘90s alt-rock jam along the lines of Yo La Tengo (except with some weird, psychedelic chanting thrown in for good measure).

The last three minutes are reserved for Pluto, but they’re really just a rather vacant outtro with a few extraterrestrial sound effects. It serves its purpose, though, of making a smooth transition back to reality, kind of like when a hypnotist tells his subject that they will wake up at the snap of his fingers, feeling oddly calm and refreshed. You might come out of Vårt Solsystem in a similar, subtle daze, but only if you take the time to delve into the album and commit yourself to the ride. I think you’ll find it’s worth it.

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FLASHBACK FRIDAY: Morphine – “Cure For Pain”

Mark Sandman, bass player and vocalist of Boston three-piece Morphine, died a classic rock star death: while performing in Palestrina, Italy in July of 1999, he suddenly collapsed, and succumbed almost immediately to cardiac arrest. Sandman had felt fine the day of the show, aside from stress and temperatures nearing a hundred degrees Fahrenheit, and afterwards, his Jewish parents declined an autopsy in accordance with religious law as stated in the Talmud, so the cause of his death remains a mystery. Speculation ran—rock star deaths being rock star deaths, after all, though Morphine never gained quite enough recognition to make them out-and-out famous—that drugs had played a part, but that story didn’t add up: no one present reported seeing Sandman smoking anything stronger than cigarettes on the day he died, and he hadn’t been associated with drug use at any previous point in his career. Then again, there was the group’s name, and their best-known album, Cure For Pain. If this murky, masterfully depressive 1993 release doesn’t suggest the haze and isolation of drug use, then damned if I know what does.

A no-nonsense trio of drums, sax and two-string slide bass, the group emerged as a kind of seductive, uncanny mash of jazz and nineties alternative rock. Morphine put out five albums from 1992 to 2000; Cure For Pain was their second, and far and away their best. It has loud, angry songs—dizzy and rollicking like “Buena” and “Mary Won’t You Call My Name”–and it has moody, atmospheric songs, like “Miles Davis’ Funeral.” All of them cuttingly bleak, though not alienating. In lesser hands, the lyrics would come across overblown, but carried by Sandman’s hypnotic voice, lines such as one lyric that occurs in the title track (Someday there’ll be a cure for pain/That’s the day I throw my drugs away), are as essential as any of the instruments. The odd musical assembly the band was working with meant that they only had so many kinds of songs they could write, but on this album, the possibilities seem infinite.

Mark Sandman’s death may have kept Morphine from real stardom. The band disintegrated quickly after his death. It seems to me, though, that even at the height of its powers, the group was bound for obscurity. Not because they sounded too strange or unpalateable—far freakier bands have played on MTV—but because no story Morphine tells is ever very simple. The songs often change halfway through. The music suddenly becomes bogged down in a swampy sax line or, just as suddenly, maniacally loud and fast. It often demands the ability to dramatically switch moods in an instant. It is ugly when it has to be.

Without the promise of ever finding out exactly what caused Mark Sandman’s death, many fans lost interest in the band. Were his story more legend-friendly, and had the band been active since the Internet took over the world, Morphine would certainly have received more general acclaim. Though the four other albums Morphine put out in the nineties are immensely solid, Cure For Pain reigns supreme. There’s simply not a bad track on the album. In fact, there isn’t a track that isn’t great on the album.

In Cure For Pain, the dominant mood—overwhelming melancholy—gets so heavy that it can be difficult to listen to. There is a pleasing parallel between the band’s name and the effect of the music. Ditto the frontman’s name and his singing: the Sandman of folklore, who sprinkles magical dust on sleeping children’s eyes to bring on good dreams, makes for a close metaphor of Mark Sandman’s warm and lullaby-like vocal style. The bit about the magic dust rings true as well. Sandman seemed to live and play with precision, as if remaking himself into a musical character, a slight intorsion of the rock star myth.

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ALBUM REVIEW: Susanna and Ensemble neoN “The Forrester”

Norwegian vocalist Susanna Karolina Wallumrod has roamed from singer-songwriting solo work to electro-pop collaborations. She’s teamed up with musicians, conductors, and arrangers from different genres to form Susanna and Ensemble neoN. Ensemble neoN is known for their flexible and experimental work, blending art forms, and partnering with visual and installation artists. The sound they have created with Susanna is hard to define, somewhere between classic, pop, and chant. It’s breathtaking, but easy to fall into, conjuring otherworldly spaces to accompany Susanna’s gorgeous, inviting vocals.

The first track is “The Forrester I, II, and III,” actually three songs in one and totaling fifteen minutes. “The Forrester I” very minimalist, in all aspects – mellow, minimal melody, minimal words repeated in different ways, minimal build and movement between parts. I find this an interesting choice for the opening song. There’s a bit of Bjork here, but, surprisingly, given Susanna’s pop background, it’s the Bjork of “Anchor Song”, not “Play Dead”. It’s more beautiful and less powerful in this case, though. Susanna’s voice is sweet and lovely, reaching some truly melancholy high notes.

The music does pick up a bit here and there with guitar and reverb in “The Forrester II”, but it’s a little bit boring. The music is close to creating a great atmosphere – it succeeds at some parts of the song with wind instruments and violin doing some world building – but fails to make enough of an impact a lot of the time. It has a score-like quality. I imagine if they pushed it just a little bit more in terms of melody and harmony it could inspire brilliant visuals instead of waning into something soft and sad and somehow less natural.

“The Forester III” has lyrics that push the storytelling into a more navigable space. “We can hear our children call,” Susanna cries, “Forest leaves us cold.” There’s still that melancholy that’s so easy for quieter, minimal music to fall into, but it feels less confessional and more actually personal.

Susanna sounds great on “Hangout” with its easy to follow melody and far more casual lyrics than “The Forester”. “Why can’t you hang out with me a little longer?” She pleads with someone unknown to us. The music also seems to take most of its direction from her vocals. This puts the importance of the song in the words, which is intriguing for a fairly classical sounding piece. The logic is simple – “When you’re not here / I wish you were here . . . Breathing the same air,” but the effect is very sympathetic. Though we don’t know who Susanna is singing to, it doesn’t really matter. That loneliness, that longing is palpable to us as human beings, something we can understand without getting at the complications or details.

When I say cross-genre, I mean it. The piece “Oh, I am Stuck” combines the group’s classical and jazz elements with a pop piano and vocal melody. Susanna seems more comfortable singing on this track. I’m not sure if I like that better, but I think it provides a necessary juxtaposition to the softer sounds on the rest of the album (the dreamy, wistful “Intruder” and the unexpectedly upbeat “Lonely Heart”).

This record is definitely worth a listen if you can get into a space that combines human fragility and daydreams of dark, enigmatic woods. Listen to “Intruder” by Susanna and Ensemble neoN below:

LIVE REVIEW: Low and Mike Doughty @ Music Hall of Williamsburg

Mike Doughty has been through a lot in his musical career. He divorced his commercially successful band Soul Coughing, which he considered a “dark, abusive marriage”, was dropped from Warner record label, and battled it out with a drug addiction. Through his struggle, he’s grown into a grounded solo artist who makes music with simplicity, sincerity and wisdom. This June 19th he brought his stripped down singer-songwriter act to Music Hall of Williamsburg, and shared the headline with Low, another Americana inspired band. Doughty’s mischievous demeanor and catchy singer songwriter style balanced Low’s emotionally drenched slowcore approach.

Doughty’s songs revolve around poetic storytelling. Doughty recently released a book of poetry entitled Slanky, and uses this brand of poetic wordplay and fantastic imagery in his lyrics. The lyrics are heady yet relatable and touch on classic folk and americana themes of love, leaving and emotional journey. With only guitar and drums on stage, the vocals are exposed; thus his strong lyric writing abilities carry the songs.

“Looking at the World from the Bottom of a Well” is Doughty’s most commercially successful song, and was created out of literary inspiration from Haruki Murakami’s novel Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. On stage, Doughty quips “Sandra Oh made out to this song in an elevator once.” The hit song was indeed featured in an episode of Gray’s Anatomy, as well as on Veronica Mars and on David Letterman. Doughty also draws inspiration from John Denver, and his latest album The Flip Is Another Honey includes several covers. “Sunshine on My Shoulders” is a cover of Denver’s “Sunshine”, and unexpectedly incorporates rapping. The impetus for this style mash-up, Doughty explains, is that he needed to impress his rapper girlfriend.

Doughty’s music is best live, as he inserts amusing tidbits of his musical journey and colorful past. Doughty quickly lets the audience in, shares his secrets and disarms the crowd. His guitar playing is not virtuosic, nor does it need to be. He plays with unique flare, as though his guitar is nearly too hot to touch, and keeps an upbeat rhythmic style coursing throughout. He pokes and prods drummer Pete “Pancho” Wilhoit, as Wilhoit has quite the serious attitude in relation to Doughty. The exchanges between the two were entertaining, partly because Doughty’s musical background sounds more instinctual than technical, and can be a challenge for a technically minded drummer to follow.

Dave Matthews is a professed fan of Mike Doughty, and it’s no wonder; they sound quite similar at times. Just add a soulful saxophone solo to Doughty’s “Looking at the World…”, and the Matthews songwriting formula is captured. Doughty’s signature vocal lilt and low bluesy rasp, folk rock/blues influenced range compares closely with his American rock contemporary. Yet Doughty diverges from Matthews in his stripped down performance style and ability to catch his audience off guard.

Mike Doughty has released five solo albums and is currently in the process of reworking some of his older Soul Coughing songs. His music connects to emotional depth and honesty, but keeps it light all the same. He’s a singer songwriter who boldly shares his wisdom from mistakes and struggles, all with a twinkle in his eye.

Low has made a career of slowcore, which is a feat to sustain over the course of their lengthy run as a band. The slowcore genre envelops listeners with minimalist melodies, downbeat tempos and emotionally vulnerable vocals. Low embodies this genre, and rarely diverges from the melancholy mood they create onstage.

The band is based out of Duluth, Minnesota. In my college years at the University of Minnesota Duluth, Low was an unforgettable musical discovery. In 2009 I saw them perform on a small stage of Teatro Zuccone, and I was electrified by their ability to shift the mood of the entire theater, hush and lull the crowd, and create a beautifully vulnerable performance. Now, seeing Low again after all these years, I was elated to hear the band stay true to their roots and the sound they crafted years ago.

Low played plenty of crowd pleasing hits from their catalog, including “Violent Past”, “Monkey”, and “Dragonfly”, but also languished in their newest album The Invisible Way. This album breaks a bit from their traditional sound, as the music focuses more on drummer Mimi Parker’s vocals. She sings with a rich, dark , trembling tone, and her vocals are thick with expressiveness and a hint of sadness. Parker typically sings harmony to Alan Sparhawk’s lead vocals, so this shift added greater variety to their sound as a band.

By committing to this mood influenced style, Low limits their musical range. The band rarely performs upbeat music, although they do have the ability to uplift their listeners or bring them to a sad melancholy state. Their vocal harmonizing melts the heart, and Steve Garrington expertly upholds the melody on piano and bass. Parker’s drum playing is extremely simple and straight forward, and serves as the heart beat of the band.

“On My Own” was a weak spot in the set. The song is off the latest album, and falls flat on stage. Sparhawk sings the words “happy birthday” over and over until he begins to sound like a broken record. Possibly the intention was to transport the audience through repetition, but to where, it was unclear. Low closed with the song “Canada”, which has a driving drum beat and an uplifting mood, and showed off the band’s emotional range.

The set at Music Hall of Williamsburg was pretty, emotionally wrought, exposed, dark, sad, gentle and intense. Low captures so many nuances in their songs, and continues to grow and deepen as a band. If you’ve been a longtime fan, or are hearing them for the first time, you’ll hear a sound that is current and familiar all at once.

LIVE REVIEW: The National @ Barclays

Five years ago I was depressed. I was going through my first real breakup, I was drinking too much (the kind of drinking where you justify having vodka with breakfast) and I was taking a lot of two-hour long walks. It was during those walks along Lake Superior that I first fell in love with The National. Matt Berninger’s forlorn voice was the perfect companion for my sorry state; he didn’t judge me as I drank by myself watching ‘How I met Your Mother’, he sat right along side me, laughing with that gravely voice of his.

When I imagined seeing The National live, I pictured sitting next to Berninger at Club Saratoga (a strip club/music venue in Duluth) while he serenaded me sweetly across glasses of whiskey & rye. Instead I entered the belly of Barclays center, clutching my Stella as I looked around the auditorium thinking, “Is this really where I want to see The National?” The arena seemed imposing and the stage looked liked a child’s dollhouse in comparison; the amount of sound & stage presence needed to fill such a venue was not something that I would normally attribute to The National.

Opening act, Youth Lagoon, seemed determined to prepare the audience for the night’s melancholy orgy. Standing in a straight line across the stage, the bands music as well as its style was strangely uniform. It took me a good four songs to figure out who was the lead singer, and by that point my beer glass was empty so I quickly vacated to the booze line. Overall, the Boise, Idaho band, fronted by singer Trevor Powers, gives off the feeling of listening to music under water: pleasant, calming, easy to ignore.

The National, from the moment they stepped on stage, gave off the confidence of a band well seasoned. “This is where it all started. We’re so happy to be back at Barclays, “ Berninger quipped with an uncomfortable laugh. “Don’t Swallow the Cap”, from their most recent album Trouble Will Find Me, lead off the night, but the third song “Mistaken for Strangers” was what got audience attention. The most interesting part of the night was watching the band’s nervous, excited energy shift throughout their set as they reacted to the crowd. The audience was practically a member of the band: encouraging, singing backup, quick to clap at the slightest inference of a beat.

“We know this song better than any of our other songs right now. We’re well rehearsed,” Berninger joked of the song “Sorrow” from 2010’s High Violet, which the band recently performed at MoMa Ps1. Created by Icelandic artist Ragnar Kjartansson, the installation was titled “A lot of Sorrow”; the band performed the song for six hours, a total of 105 times. The joke was lost on me at the time, but after the show I was able to watch the exhausting repetition. Similar to their Barclay show, fans drove the music, raising their voices in unison to the memorized words.

St. Vincent’s Annie Clarke joined them on stage for their performance of ‘This is the Last Time’; her voice was airy and barely floated in the background. It would have been an interesting song to do a different take on, but as it was, it felt like Clarke wasn’t even there. Another aspect that didn’t quite hit was the inclusion of stock video in the background; it wasn’t until I saw video of smoke billowing up behind a tree line that I once again became aware of my lack of beer.

While I would still have preferred to sit close up at a bar or a tavern, breathing in the moody gloom, I was duly impressed with the energy The National conveyed on stage; the space they were able to easily fill. After a three-song encore, the band played an unamplified performance of “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks,” from 2011’s High Violet; the performance was sparse, raw. As my date for the night noted, “I think that was the most honest moment of this whole show”.

50. Miley Cyrus – We Can’t Stop (from Bangerz)

47. Holograms – Lay Us Down (from Forever)

48. RAC feat. Penguin Prison – Hollywood (from Don’t Talk To)

47. Keep Shelly In Athens – Time Only Exists to Betray Us (from At Home)

46. Ha Ha Tonka – Lessons (from Lessons)

45. Vondelpark – Always Forever (from Seabed)

44. Young Galaxy – New Summer (from Ultramarine)

43. Haerts – Wings (from Hemiplegia)

42. Albert Hammond, Jr. – St. Justice (from AHJ)

41. Denitia and Sene – she’s not the only one. (from his and hers.)

40. DIANA – Born Again (from Perpetual Surrender)

39. Cakes da Killa – I Run This Club (from The Eulogy)

38. Lorde – Royals (from Pure Heroine)

37. Jagwar Ma – Come Save Me (from Howlin’)

36. FKA Twigs – Papi Pacify (from EP2)

35. The Entrance Band – Spider (from Face The Sun)

34. Anna Calvi – Suddenly (from One Breath)

33. Gap Dream – Chill Spot (from Shine Your Light)

32. Kim Deal – Are You Mine? (single)

31. Sevyn Streeter – It Won’t Stop (single)

30. Say Lou Lou – Better In The Dark (single)

29. Foxygen – On Blue Mountain (from We Are the 21st Century Ambassadors of Peace & Magic)

28. Drake – Hold On, We’re Going Home (from Nothing Was The Same)

27. Local Natives – You & I (from Hummingbird)

26. Little Daylight – Overdose (from Tunnel Vision)

25. Courtney Barnett – Avant Gardener (from The Double EP: A Sea of Split Peas)

24. The Denzels – 222 (from Blow)

23. Kate Boy – Northern Lights (from Northern Lights)

22. Mariah Carey feat. Miguel – #Beautiful (single)

21. Queens of the Stone Age – If I Had A Tail (from …Like Clockwork)

20. The Knife – Full of Fire (from Shaking the Habitual)

19. Mapei – Don’t Wait (single)

18. Cass McCombs feat. Karen Black (from Big Wheel and Others)

17. CHVRCHES – Recover (from The Bones of What You Believe)

16. Run the Jewels feat. Big Boi – Banana Clipper (from Run the Jewels)

15. Phosphorescent – Song for Zula (from Muchacho)

14. Postiljonen – Supreme (from Skyer)

13. Blood Orange – Chamakay (from Cupid Deluxe)

12. King Krule – Easy Easy (from 6 Feet Beneath the Moon)

10. Portugal. The Man – Purple Yellow Red and Blue (from Evil Friends)

9. Flume feat. George Maple – Bring You Down (from Flume)

8. Darkside – Paper Trails (from Psychic)

7. Kanye West – Black Skinhead (from Yeezus)

6. Lucius – Turn It Around (from Wildewoman)

5. Daft Punk feat. Pharrell Williams – Lose Yourself to Dance (from Random Access Memories)

4. David Bowie – Love Is Lost (Hello Steve Reich Remix by James Murphy for DFA) (from The Next Day: Extra)

3. Parquet Courts – You’ve Got Me Wonderin’ Now (from Tally All The Things That You Broke)

2. Disclosure – When A Fire Starts To Burn (from Settle)

1. Haim – The Wire (from Days Are Gone)

CARRYING THE TORCH

NEXT WAVE

NEXT YEAR

Priests

Perfect Pussy

Palehound

Cayetana

All Dogs

Tweens

Heavy Bangs

Ticket Giveaways

Each week Audiofemme gives away a set of tickets to our featured shows in NYC! Scroll down to enter for the following shindigs.

See you there! xoxo