A star by any names, Joanie Wolkoff, formerly performing under Her Habits, an AudioFemme Artist of the Month, is back. Wolkoff’s addictive collaboration with The Hood Internet, “Going Back” is still stuck in my head, yet her latest release, “The Homecoming” might just be the first song by any artist to start a new reign in my grey matter.
“The Homecoming” is the Canadian-turned New Yorker’s first song off her debut album, Without Shame, due out April 15. Indeed, shame is for humans, in the synth-pop artist’s transformation to surname recognition she flutters into goddess territory. On “The Homecoming,” Wolkoff’s signature vocals remain, delicate yet undoubtably lethal, like assassination via tai chi. They’re paired with glittering and hypnotic synth beats; the song and album were “inspired by symphonic 90’s euro-pop and deep house coupled with new wave motifs.” Adding spice to the cauldron, the album was engineered by the Grammy-winning Ariel Borujow and produced by Icarus Moth.
“The Homecoming” just premiered on Noisey, take a listen below.
To set you up for the come down from Valentine’s Day, for this New Music Monday, take a listen to Philadelphia newcomer Valerie Broussard‘s “A Little Wicked.” The soulful, dark, and hauntingly full vocals are just what you need to forget about sweet nothings and boxes of chocolate to invoke the dark goddess within.
Glancing at the tracklist for Money’s sophomore LP Suicide Songs, one might suspect singer/songwriter Jamie Lee has a tenuous relationship with subtlety. Titular track aside, the record touts audacious titles such as “Cocaine Christmas and an Alcoholic’s New Year” and opening anthem “I am the Lord.” The album art is no less provocative, featuring a par-naked Lee balancing a knife on his forehead. Though these names and images may seem flippant on paper, the gorgeous density of Money’s music elevates them contextually; there isn’t a scrap of irony to be had here.
The Mancunian band made a grand entrance with their debut record The Shadow of Heaven(Bella Union) in 2013, a dazzling hymnal pop opus that is nothing if not beautiful and original. The album dealt with dense themes, manifesting in songs such as “So Long (God is Dead)” and “The Cruelty of Godliness.”
In keeping with the last record, Lee is approaching concepts laden with baggage and trying to look at them from a different vantage point, perhaps imbuing them with new meaning along the way.
“Above all else, I’m just trying to project and portray a poetic truth,” Lee said in a press release. “Suicide is about anonymity, to the point where you don’t exist, which I definitely feel in my songwriting and as a person. But rather than writing myself out of anonymity, I want to remain there, in this record at least. It’s recognizing a kind of sacrificial nature, in making artistic choices. By rummaging around in your feelings and trying to make sense of life, to the detriment of your health, there might be some poetic value to what you have created.”
In a strange way, despite the intensity of Suicide Songs, it does seem Lee has achieved a sort of anonymity, if only due to the force of the album’s instrumental arrangements. His vocals are less pristine on this new material…there is a drunk and snarling slouch to them, and they easily surrender to the orchestral maelstrom of each track. He sounds raw, worn and drowned by desperation, but with good reason. In a press release, Lee confirms that he “wanted the album to sound like it was ‘coming from death’ which is where these songs emerged.”
It seemed that The Shadow Of Heaven would be a difficult act to follow up, but this new record is nowhere near slumping. Instead, it’s leaping upwards towards vast sonic peaks employing horns, strings, choirs, sorrow, and pandemonium. It is, in a word, a BIG album. Sprawling and open, it practically generates its own tidal system.
“I am the Lord” kicks off with lulling strings that resolve to twanging guitar. It builds with atmospheric hand drums, and ghostly harmonies reminiscent of Cocteau Twins. Lee diminishes the implication of the song’s title when he sings “I don’t want to be god, I just don’t want to be human.” It’s the kind of otherworldly, yet oddly relatable statement that has become Money’s lyrical trademark.
Part lullaby, part funeral ballad, “You Look Like a Sad Painting on Both Sides of the Sky” is a strangely sweet song. It is one of the more sonically sparse offerings on the record, sticking to hushed acoustic guitar and piano, with understated drums and cello. But its pretty simplicity doesn’t ebb its melancholy. In fact, the contrast seems to heighten our sense of woe as Lee belts out lines such as: “there will be music all around, when they put me in the ground.”
The entire album is rife with this sort of tension, whether it lies in the discrepancy between lyrical content and the key of the song, or Lee’s ability as a composer to make you feel uplifted and miserable at the same time. This isn’t a record for people who like background music. The closer you listen, the more nuances you can enjoy. It’s a piece of work that unfurls more with every play.
In “Night Came” Lee establishes himself as a modern maestro of crescendo. The track commences in sprawling, muted riffs only to rise steadily into a skyward collision. But the album’s most powerful track is without a doubt “All My Life,” a banging six and a half minutes of heartrending majors and plummeting minor chords. This is Lee at his biggest, holding nothing back. Not reverb, not gospel harmonies, not lead guitar, and certainly not a full drum kit. But once again, the emotive scale of the song is undercut by bleak lyrics. In the chorus Lee confesses “all my life I’ve been searching for something, so I always ended up with nothing,” a truth that leaves him neither here nor there.
Part of what makes this record so great is that it was composed as nothing less than an album; as a continuous narrative in which each song sonically relates to the next, like chapters in a book. While so many contemporary LPs seem thrown together as a compilation of disparate tracks, Suicide Songs maintains a dense thread throughout its 42 minutes. And this thread is as much formal as it is textual. Lee delivers a consistent dose of heady subject matter, yes, but he’s also managed to arrange this album to bear the aural equivalent of dramatic structure; grabbing our attention with “I am the Lord,” building to the crashing climax of “All My Life,” and settling with “Cocaine Christmas and an Alcoholic’s New Year” (the latter having Lee at his most Tom Waits).
At the end of the day, Lee does seem to prefer the overt to the subtle, as he plainly explains that “the record is morbid and bleak, and never resolves itself. The only real kind of triumphant realization is being able to express the morbidity of the situation I found myself in.” It’s the kind of statement you’d expect from someone like Lee, a self-effacing British musician, but I’d say that Suicide Songs is triumphant all on its own. Period.
You can pretty much tell The Saint Johns vibe well together once the first guitar chord is struck in “Lost the Feeling,” and this is just further confirmed when you hear the way their voices swirl together in perfect harmony. Upbeat yet ethereal vocals come from singer Jordan Meredith while Louis Johnson provides a more savory sound as well as crisp guitar riffs—like I said, they really just complement one another so well. Their newly released official video for “Lost the Feeling” starts off a bit reminiscent of “Spring Breakers,” the rush and excitement of a successful robbery fresh in the air as the Americana duo plays in what appears to be a small town bar. Tension mounts and ultimately dispels, following the ebbs and flows of the song just perfectly. It’s the type of track you want to know the words to immediately so you can sing along to it—maybe a bit loudly, but who’s judging?—in the privacy of your bedroom.
Luckily The Saint Johns are currently touring, so you have the chance to watch their dynamism live. And for those of you who are also in the New York area, maybe I’ll catch you at their show at Gramercy Theatre on March 31.
An entrancing voice and charismatic presence are the perfect ways to define singer/songwriter Shira and her recent show at Rockwood Music Hall on January 26. Shira captivated the audience by playing tracks from her upcoming album, Subtle Creature, as well as chatting with the crowd in between each song.
Sitting on the stage basked in dark red and purple lights, she crooned and jammed out on guitar, breaking from her normal routine of sampling and electronic influences. She played singles like “Heartbeat is a Prisoner,” “Dark Snow,” and “Tiptoe,” making sure to provide a background on the process behind the songs and what they meant to her. It was a more intimate setting for what felt like a personalized show—watching her perform and engage with fans, you recognize immediately she isn’t holding back; she has an honest connection with music, and delivers it as such.
After seeing Shira perform, I pretty much knew I had to talk to her, even if just for a little bit. Luckily I got the chance to have a brief email interview with her, which can be seen below.
Nicole Ortiz for AudioFemme: I remember at your show you mentioned that you have an album coming up. Can you tell me about the album and the work that went into it? What’s your favorite song on the album?
Shira: I’m releasing “Subtle Creature” this August 2016! I’m so excited about it. It’s been two years in the making. I wrote primarily on the Roland-404 Sampler, then added a ton of textures: drums, electric guitars, synth, cello, horns. It’s turned out to be a really undefinable, genre-switching album. I got to work with some of my favorite artists: the sister-trio Joseph, Shannon F. of Light Asylum, Neon Music of Youthquake, Jamila Woods, Mal Devisa, and cellist Emily Dix Thomas. My favorite song is the title track. It’s eight minutes long—the longest song I’ve ever written and produced. It really got away from me and started doing it’s own thing. It’s got like four verses and two choruses and tons of swimmy instrumental sections! I tried to reign it in and hold it down, but it refused. I like work that guides the way and demands you to stretch. Now when I listen to it, I hear an epic. I trusted where it was going (eventually!), and it lead me somewhere far vaster, cooler, stranger.
NO: I know you’ve been considering making another music video as well with a director whose work really spoke to you. What do you hope to show through this collaboration?
S: I recently saw the video for the song “Relief” by Wilder Maker directed by Evan Cohen. It’s an incredibly patient, inventive video. We live and work in such a fast-paced culture that, to see a video that sort of asks the viewer to lean in, that doesn’t beg or hit over the head, really stayed with me. I immediately got in touch with Evan. We’re both excited to get lost in the creative process together, to make something tender and unexpected.
NO: During your show, you mentioned a song about your grandmother and also spoke openly about being diagnosed with bipolar disorder, which resonated with me as I’ve suffered from anxiety for most of my life. Do you think this awareness and openness come into play in your creating process? How do you think it affects your music?
S: If we’re lucky, our art makes us more honest. It demands us to look closer at ourselves and the world. There’s a realness, a rawness it desires. It acts like a friend who would never let us fool ourselves. I know that it’s a choice I make to reveal parts of my personal life, including my health, but in some ways I don’t feel I have a choice. To be quiet, or stealthy, about vital parts of my being feels like choking myself, my truth. It’s just a part of my nature—I feel compelled to be honest. I know that when we risk honesty, we reap intimacy. I have no shame about my mental illness, and I want to welcome others into the conversation. That’s why I speak about it. As for my music, it’s a literal record of my life—how amazing is that? To have a lifelong sonic diary. When I look back on my life, I’m excited to have literal “records” of 2002, 2006, 2010, and so on and so on. When I look back, I want to see/hear where I was at truthfully, not a costume of where I was at. This requires a certain willingness to be transparent and take risks.
NO: I see on your site that you also create poetry, art, offer classes, and have a zine—you’re kind of an artistic jack-of-all trades! Do you ever showcase these pieces as well? Which outlet do you feel the strongest connection with?
S: Each outlet fulfills a need. Sometimes I don’t want to talk or think or make a sound, so I draw. There’s a quiet, a privacy, that my whole being desires. That’s why I endeavored on my SQUARES project, a year-long visual diary built of 1 x 1 inch squares. To daily enter that quiet [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”][and] just be with myself. Sometimes I need to untangle a moment that got stuck—often that’s where poetry comes in. I’m working on a poetry manuscript, “Odes to Lithium,” which is entirely composed of praise-poems to the medication I take. Nearly every poem in that collection is me running my hands along a moment of stigma, mistreatment, or misunderstanding and breathing new understanding into it, or at least acknowledgement. Then there’s music—that’s like getting set loose in a candy store. I just lose myself. I never had a sister, so maybe it’s a bit like that, having a sister—I make a sound, [and] it becomes separate from me, almost like another’s voice. There she is—I listen to her, I hear what she has to say, I feel less alone. Ultimately it’s all about connection. Connection to myself. Connection to others. The Zine, the classes I teach, the work—it all fosters that, just from different angles.
NO: Do you have any other upcoming shows planned, or are you going to tour anywhere?
S: Yes! I constantly play in New York. You can always check my site for updates. I just got back from a month-long Writing Residency at Vermont Studio Center after touring the Midwest with Andrea Gibson. I’m cooking up plans for spring and summer shows as I get closer to the album release.
This week’s New Music Monday track is “Sanity,” the first single from soul artist Francesca Loeber’s debut EP of the same name. It’s a slow and sultry number that will make it even harder to get out of bed today, as it’s a song fit for lighting red candles and making a cocoon out of bed sheets. Check out the entire EP below.
The Beacon Theatre‘s playbill for Jenny Lewis’s concert last Thursday displayed a curious itinerary: M. Ward at 8PM, Rabbit Fur Coat at 9PM, and a “voyage through the past, present and future” at 10PM.
“Voyage” was a reference to both Lewis’s latest solo album The Voyager and her musical journey from 1998 to the present — a trajectory that became palpable as the night unfolded.
2016 marks 10 years since the release of Lewis’s first solo album Rabbit Fur Coat, which was just reissued on red vinyl. The record broke from her work as lead singer of indie-pop band Rilo Kiley, incorporating country and folk influences and featuring collaborations with indie-folk legend M. Ward, former Bright Eyes frontman Conor Oberst, and alt-country sister duo The Watson Twins.
Two of these three collaborators shared the stage with Lewis Thursday night. M. Ward’s opening set, which included a cover of Tony Martin’s “I Get Ideas” that was featured on HBO’s “Girls” and a track from his upcoming album No Rain, delivered the solid performance expected of an artist who has been releasing albums since 1999. He shone brightest, though, alongside the headliner.
For part two of the performance, Lewis entered with The Watson Twins, each holding a candle and harmonizing on “Run Devil Run,” Rabbit Fur Coat‘s first track. In fact, the entire segment followed the album’s order, ending with a reprise of the bittersweet ballad “Happy.” Ward contributed his guitar to several numbers and sang in “Handle with Care.”
At age 40, Lewis is no longer the damaged former child actor who belted her quarter-life angst as Rilo Kiley’s frontwoman. The band, which dissolved in 2011, explored unrequited love, suicide, and other themes that let millennial teenagers know at least someone somewhere was as sad as them.
Rabbit Fur Coat tackles more mature experiences like growing disillusioned with religion, coming to terms with a dysfunctional upbringing, and overcoming fear of intimacy. In its 12 tracks, Lewis makes peace with her troubled past and accepts responsibility over her future.
Lewis’s performance style has paralleled her personal and musical growth. She shouts less and smiles more than in her Rilo Kiley days. Like M. Ward, she’s been making music since the late 90’s, and she commanded the stage with the professionalism and ease only a music industry veteran can project.
The flip side of Lewis’s musical evolution is that she comes off less connected to her older songs. During the concert’s third portion, “Silver Lining” felt detached without her former sass.
Throughout the evening, Lewis’s lyrics came to life, taking on new meanings amid her psychedelic set. Rabbit Fur Coat‘s eponymous track, which sounds like an amusing cautionary tale about materialism in recordings, became an intimate confession about her estrangement from her mother as she sang it alone with no instruments but her guitar. “It Wasn’t Me,” a cynical song about dodging responsibility, became funny as she lackadaisically belted, “it doesn’t count because I don’t care.”
At one point, though, she actually altered the words. In “The Charging Sky,” where the recording describes her parents as “spreading infection, somehow we’re not affected,” she instead sang, “somehow I’m not affected.”
Whatever her intentions, I couldn’t help but read this slight rewording as a testament to Lewis’s transformation from part of a “we” to a freestanding “I,” connected to but independent from her former band and upbringing.
The dimly-lit green room at Music Hall of Williamsburg smells of cigarettes, but in an unassuming way, perhaps because Chris Chu of POP ETC kindly apologizes to my plus one, Caroline, and I in advance. I hardly noticed what he meant once we got up there, and no one else seemed to mind either.
Before we sit down, Chu offers us a drink.
“Water? Beer? How old are you guys?”
I feel nervous that if I say yes, I’m imposing, though I notice the array of drinks in the mini fridge: Tecate beer cans, water bottles, and a Snapple that Chu brings out to sip occasionally, post-interview.
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Ysabella Monton for AudioFemme: Between The Morning Benders and becoming POP ETC, and even between the POP ETC album and Souvenir, I’ve noticed changes in the sound and your evolution as a group. You guys have had this awesome, loyal fan base, and you’ve done a great job of doing something new while maintaining that. What do you want your old fans to take from Souvenir?
Chris Chu: Well, love our fans and we do a lot to show them that. We respond to everything, we get people into shows all the time and give away all our guest list spots. We’re thinking about our fans a lot, but when we’re making music, the idea of trying to cater to any kind of specific listener or demographic is just dangerous. So, for Souvenir, we took our time, wrote tons of songs, and waited until a family of songs or a sound just emerged from that. And we’re happy with it. I just think, if you’re catering to your fans or trying to do something with your previous sound or anything like that, at least for us, it feels really stale. It’s hard for me to honestly sing songs like that or go on tour to play songs if we’re not excited about them. I think people notice that, so it would be a disservice to our fans to do the same thing over and over.
YM: No, I know what you mean. [laughs] Well, if you’re constantly having these new ideas, especially over the past three years — it doesn’t seem like it hasn’t been that long since the last record, but I think the change shows. What are you guys drawing inspiration from these days?
CC: It’s all over the place. For this last album, because we made the decision to take our time and approach it really patiently, we traveled a lot. For the last couple of years, I spent probably half my time in Tokyo, where I was working on other projects. So that was a huge difference, just working with people in Japan and being introduced to all this Japanese music. That was amazing, because there’s bands that are equivalent to The Beatles here that no one knows outside of Japan. Like, the number one albums in Rolling Stone Japan. I felt like a kid in a candy shop discovering that.
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Something about inspiration leads us onto a tangent, reminiscing about 80’s music. I use “reminiscing” lightly, since neither of us were actually spinning those records through the decade. As Chu explains, “It’s similar to some of the ways we became interested in Japanese culture with rediscovering that music from the 80’s. We’re too young to have grown up with it, but our parents listened to it and we knew about it.”
I tell Chu a story about being in the car a week ago with my mom, listening to the likes of Tears for Fears, Spandau Ballet, Culture Club. Just for fun, I threw in “Running in Circles” from Souvenir.
“A seamless transition,” Chu laughs.
My mom thought so too. I tell Chu her review of the song: “I’ve never heard it, but I bet it probably played in the disco.”
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Mid-interview, photo by Caroline Sugg for AudioFemme.
CC: That’s amazing. Similar to how I was describing the stuff in Japan, the cool thing about the 80’s is that it didn’t happen long enough ago that it’s been canonized in the same way. I grew up listening to The Beatles, The Beach Boys, Neil Young and all that stuff, Dylan. It’s so long ago that there are so many lists, so much critical discourse about music from the 60’s and you can still go and explore it yourself, but in general, it’s like history’s been written whereas with the 80s, there’s hit songs here and there but there’s a lot of records that people just haven’t given fair due because not enough time’s passed. Tears for Fears, for instance, I feel like people only know the four or five singles…
YM: Tracks like “Everybody Wants to Rule the World.”
CC: Yeah, and that’s one of my favorite songs, ever. Not knocking those songs, but I think that got us excited, like we could go back into the 80’s and write our own history and find things that spoke to us. It makes sense because we’re always listening to pop music. It’s like going into Cyndi Lauper records and Madonna records — again, people know the singles, but there are so many good album tracks.
YM: Definitely. Along with the 80’s influence I noticed some R&B as well in a few songs. I listened to “I Wanted To Change The World But The World Changed Me” and immediately the guitar at the beginning reminded me of “No Scrubs” by TLC.
CC: Yeah. [laughs] Actually, somebody else told me that, and we didn’t think about it, but it totally makes sense. It probably subconsciously made its way in.
YM: Was R&B something you were also listening to growing up?
CC: Yeah, I mean, growing up in the 90’s, you kind of couldn’t escape it. But with every song, especially from a production or sonic standpoint, we never wanna make anything that feels too dated. We’re happy to wear our influences on our sleeves, and it’s only better if people use our music as a gateway to all these 80’s bands that we love. We’re covering Tears for Fears in these shows and I’m sure especially younger kids don’t know that band, and we’d love for them to check it out. With “Running in Circles,” for instance, in the beginning it feels really 80’s, but then in the chorus, the way the guitars kind of sit in the mix, the sound of that feels almost more 90’s rock to me. Then in “I Wanted To Change The World But The World Changed Me,” we were using kind of deeper, subby, 808 kinds of sounds that have that hip hop and R&B influence for sure.
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As he describes that process of putting together different sounds from different eras, there’s a bit of a twinkle in his eye. It becomes clear very quickly that he’s rightfully proud of what POP ETC has accomplished in this regard.
“We love music,” Chu says, “so we’re just listening to stuff all the time and putting it all together.
I ask if that’s where the “et cetera” comes from, since the music they make transcends the meaning of the word “pop” on its own.
“Yeah, we were very intentional about choosing that name,” says Chu. “When we chose ‘The Morning Benders,’ we didn’t even think it would be a real band. But with ‘POP ETC,’ we like the idea of it. Not only does it kind of feel like a genre, so we can say we play “pop et cetera,” but we like it as something bigger than a band, like a kind of concept.”
Especially seeing as “pop” tends to have a negative connotation nowadays, the way that POP ETC have branded themselves is an effective, cohesive labor of love.
“We’re making shirts and stuff, we love it from a design perspective,” explains Chu. “Now, we’re putting things out through our own imprint called ‘POP ETC Records.’ I like how it fits into all these different arms. It all serves the music. And we do play ‘pop et cetera,’ that’s our genre.”
Photo by Bee Vivian.
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YM: Since you mix genres so effectively and all these different aspects go into it, when you have an idea for a song, how does that become a collaborative effort?
CC: Well, it actually changed substantially for this record. Especially with The Morning Benders, probably because I was younger and scared of letting go of total control, I wanted to wear all the hats and try to engineer it, mix it, produce it, and direct everyone exactly how to play things. With this record, and with my brother in the band, and Julian, who I’ve known for half my life, I really trust them. I’ll still write the core of a song by myself, and they give me very honest and merciless feedback. They’ll often be like, “We don’t like this,” and I’ll trash it, or, “The chorus is working, but the rhythm in the verse isn’t,” something like that. They help curate the songwriting even though they’re not writing lyrics or melodies that much. Then from a production standpoint, everyone plays. Julian is just a natural drummer, and as he’s playing drums, he starts guiding a song in a certain way from his style and his idea of what he likes. So yeah, I think this is the most collaborative record we’ve ever made.
YM: Does that have to do with it being recorded in the apartment?
CC: Yeah, that’s a huge factor. I get kinda stressed out being in a studio. I mean, you can find a great studio and make it warm and cool and if you can kind of bunker down for a month or something and you can feel comfortable there, but it’s just harder and harder to do that these days…I just always felt, especially with vocals and things that I wanna do in a really heartfelt, personal way, it’s kind of odd to do it in a studio where you don’t know the space or you don’t know anyone. There’s assistants standing around, staring at you or whatever. We just liked kind of being at home and having the freedom to really be patient. If I wanted to geek out over a certain way I sung a line or something for a couple hours, I could do that, whereas in a studio, you feel bad because you’re having an engineer do this thing over and over, and you just wanna get on with it.
YM: So did you not bring too many other outside people into it?
CC: No, no. We ended up having a couple of people mix it, so we sent it off for that phase just because we thought it would be nice to get some clarity. We ended up spending so much time on this record that we all felt like we were too close to have clarity on organizing sound. But we produced everything and played everything ourselves.
YM: So in the last three years, it wasn’t like a, “We spent most of this time writing, most of this time recording…”
CC: That’s the thing with being able to record at home now, it’s all much more ambiguous and those lines don’t really exist. When we did our first record, it was all the tape and we knew that we’d be going into the studio with not much time so we’d learn all the songs really well, went in and banged it out, and made a record. But with this it’s just everything is a moving part. You’re not committing something to tape where you can’t change it…The songwriting, and the recording and production are all intermingled. And some songs, we’d be fully recorded and go back and rewrite the chorus or a lyric or something. There’s substantial changes to every facet of a song.
YM: So how does that process reflect in the title of the album being Souvenir?
CC: We named it Souvenir for a lot of reasons, but in regards to that, because we took so much time and spent these years making this record, and it really felt stretched out across those years, it wasn’t like we did a couple of months and then vacationed for six, we were really tinkering with it. So I think it feels like a snapshot of what we were going through during those times. We liked the idea of having a souvenir that we could hold onto and keep with us going forward.
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At this point, Jon, Chu’s brother and bandmate, pops in, waiting for a lull in the conversation. I turn to ask if he wants to add anything.
“Oh no, sorry to interrupt,” he says, “We just didn’t submit a guest list.”
Soon, drummer Julian Harmon comes in too, reaching for the beers and taking a seat on the couch with a few other people. There’s an air of ease in the room, no tension despite there being an interview going on and show time in around fifteen minutes.
“I thought Christine would’ve done that, but I will send it to you,” says Chris
“I’ll send that to you now,” says Chris, and Jon thanks him and apologizes again. “Okay, I sent it to both of you guys.”
“Are you guys doing an interview?” Harmon asks.
“Yeah, and we’re recording,” says Chris, jokingly adding, “So get the beers, and go.”
They leave the room and I get nervous, as it seems like I’m intruding on their time to hang out before the show.
“I mean, the only other thing I was wondering was…” I begin.
“It’s fine! Take your time,” he reassures me. “Don’t worry about them, there’s always something going wrong.”
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YM: What kinds of things do you want new people who are discovering your music to draw from?
CC: That’s a good question. I don’t know.
YM: Not that you have to peg it for anything specific.
CC: I mean, obviously we put so much time into this record, I hope that people connect with it. In the same way that it’s a souvenir for us and we have it for these times, I like the idea of people having it — and for me, this is how music works in my life — as I’m living and listening to a record, my life experiences get kind of wrapped up in that, so ideally, that was what would happen. It could be a souvenir for other people.
YM: Yeah, definitely.
CC: To bring it full circle with what we were talking about early on, I really want fans to know how much we appreciate them caring about what we’re doing. I would like them to connect with us, especially with all the social media ways you connect with fans directly. I really think that it’s a blessing that we get to make music all the time for a living. We really do believe in that exchange and we’re feeding off the energy of our fans. Their support really does affect us and our music.
My favorite gush worthy trip-hop duo, Gosh Pith, returned this week with another treat from their upcoming EP, Gold Chain, due out February 26. Directed by Shane Ford and chock-full of my friends, acquaintances, and fellow kindred city spirits, “K9” is described as “a story about a young love triangle in the heart of the Detroit underground.” The video is dizzying, enchanting, and perfectly encapsulates the hazy romanticism of Detroit’s landscape.
Shot through the eyes of explorative youth who are tempted with growing up too fast, “K9” is met with a thoughtful innocence and sweetness that speaks to that nostalgic space of feeling small in a big world and the desire to be taken seriously. Each scene explores familiar rites of passage. From stealing a gold bottled beverage and gold chain candy bar from the convenience store, to becoming blood brothers and sisters on the steps of an abandoned house, to sneaking into an after hours club where they yield a gun for fun and turn down the offer to snort lines of gold glitter. As the viewer, you never fear for these kids and you don’t criticize their judgment because what “K9” does best is connect us to the restless teenager buried within our jaded adult skin.
More like a film than a video, Gosh Pith found a poetic way to capture ennui, peer pressure while still remaining “cool,” which seems to be the shared goal of our three, baby faced actors. The repeated hook, “We just don’t know nothin’ baby” is simple and telling of the human condition (and the teenage one, respectively) and reads more like a movie script line than a lyric, making “K9″ an unexpectedly evolved and evocative experience.
Today for New Music Monday, we have for you the debut single “You Give Me That” from New York’s soul singer Raveena. In an email to The Fader, she wrote: “The lyrics I wrote are about submission, perhaps not even in a sexual sense, but completely losing yourself in something sensual and human with no care for anything else you have to do that day.” Rather than fight the lethargic Monday blues, nestle into your chair, take a listen, and submit to that something something.
Joseph Sant just released Sea White Salt, and it’s a pure string of ambient tracks. His new EP includes the single “Nor’easter,” which can possibly relate to his voyage from Seattle, to right here. He now seems to like Brooklyn, performing at places like Pete’s Candy Store, with no shortage of dreaminess. In the core of the new release, there lies influences of the atmospheric presences of New York City. Performing along with Sant is Gabriel Galvin on guitar, Georgia Tan playing bass, Stirling Krusing on harmonica/lap steel, and Tyler Graham with percussion. Together, they deliver some organic, shapely harmonies.
If you’ve seen the cover of this month’s TIME Magazine or have recently tuned into any national media outlet, you know that Detroit’s sister city, Flint, is in crisis. Due to corrupt government, dangerous mismanagement, and incompetence, thousands of Flint residences have been poisoned by lead through the water system.
Long story short, Flint was getting its water from Detroit until 2011 when Gov. Rick Snyder, due to economic disparity, decided that Flint would begin receiving water from the Flint river, despite the water’s highly corrosive makeup and the cities aging, weathered pipeline. The water itself is not poisoned with lead, but is so corrosive that it is stripping the lead pipes. Last fall, auto manufacturers refused the usage of Flint water as it was corroding the auto parts, yet it continued to pump into every household, poisoning an entire city. Despite the President issuing a state of emergency and the allocation of 80 million dollars in FEMA relief funds to assist Flint in its recovery, the damage is irreversible.
I know what you’re thinking. What does this have to do with music? Well, nothing, really. Other than the fact that I feel that I bear the shared responsibility of social consciousness as an artist and fellow human taking up space on this floating ball in space. I couldn’t help but search for some convoluted way to draw attention to this issue, while also finding personal solace through the only outlet that I knew. I’ve curated a playlist of “water songs” by Michigan artists with the hope of a healthy resolve for the millions of people around the world who do not have access to safe drinking water, which now include the thousands of children and families of Flint, Michigan. Let these tracks wash over you and extinguish any unwanted fires.
Eddie Logix and Blair French are BLKSHRK. Released last year, Jellyfish on Cassette is an ocean of temperamental pulsations. The project fuses programmed sampled, live takes and improvisation all of which swell. “Arm Floaties (Night Swim)” gives gives the aural allusion of treading deep water.
This alternate take of “Tidal” from 800beloved‘s dreamy sophomore record, Everything Purple, is a trembling and sedated beachside lullaby. Lynch’s breathy vocals paired with the distant and upbeat pop distortions forms the sensation of having a sun stained memory you wish you could return to.
A standout track off of their 2013 album Wormfood, “Water” is drowsy and pleasantly complacent, much like falling asleep in a filled-to-the-rim bathtub. It’s a smug track about the things we normally don’t have the guts to confess about the disinterest in meaningful love and sex. It’s the type of song that demands hydration; a sonic hangover.
Before they dropped the Nascar kitsch, JRJR released Patterns. “Dark Water” is reminiscent of The Shins with hints of Jon Brion, making it both sugary and brooding. The Beach Boys-esque harmonizing and piano crescendo mask the heaviness of the repeated imagery of drowning which makes this bubbly pop track ironic and bittersweet.
One of my favorite Detroit duos, Gosh Pith, channel a sleepy Animal Collective/Vampire Weekend vibe with a track off their 2015 EP, Window. “Waves” challenges the listener to let go, internalizing the symbolic properties of water via a gentle, lapping synth pop track.
The Gories: “Goin’ To The River”
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The Gories formed back in 1986 and were fearless in welding 60’s garage rock with hyper rhythm blues. “Goin’ To The River” from I Know You Fine, but How You Doin’ released in 1990, is defiant and demands rowdiness. This track by The Gories is a perfect example of their lasting and often overlooked influence.
What I consider to be the most under appreciated album in Iggy Pop’s catalogue and one of the most important contributions to post-punk, New Values is full of songs as jutting as this one. “Endless Sea” is particularly provocative. The synth breakdown along with seductive, temperate vocals are the perfect pairing for giving the drugged sensation of literal endlessness.
The Dead Weather: “Will There Be Enough Water”[/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”]
The Dead Weather may be my favorite collaboration from the diverse repertoire of Detroit’s golden child, Jack White. White along with Alison Mosshart (of The Kills) make for a sexually hypnotic rock experience. “Will There Be Enough Water” is a smokey, blues infused anti-apology that is as thirsty as it is satiated.
The folkiest track on the playlist, “Waterfall” off of Fred Thomas’ Kuma is moody and textured like a messier, sleep deprived Elvis Perkins. The song begs “Come on everyone/it’s time to go see the waterfall” an uplifting chorus partnered with moaning string arrangements keeps “Waterfall” in the heartache category.
This track off of Don’t Wait by experimental pop duo Valley Hush could easily be a secret video game level trudging through sparkling, underwater sludge where Lana Del Rey meets St. Vincent. It’s more sensational than literal, but the ominous gurgling noise is animatedly visual.
If you would like to learn how you can help the residents of Flint, Michigan, click here.
Berkeley-born and Brooklyn-based trio POP ETC are back with Souvenir, a follow up to 2012’s eponymous release.
In the last three years, the band has traversed in an even poppier direction, almost a little cheesy. But in a time when “pop” is considered an obscenity, a genre to be left for the tweens, POP ETC makes something shimmer on Souvenir.
The first single, “What Am I Becoming?” stands out as one of my favorite tracks, right next to the relentlessly catchy “Vice,” where lead singer Chris Chu sings, “You’ve got that vice that I like/No matter how hard I fight/It takes a hold of me right now.”
“Your Heart is a Weapon” and “Running in Circles” most clearly relay the 80’s synth-pop feel dominating the album. Slowing it down, “I Wanted to Change the World But the World Changed Me” (apart from being a mouthful of a title) is set in motion by a catchy guitar hook immediately reminiscent of “No Scrubs” by TLC.
The album is sprinkled with bits of R&B influence throughout, and it’s fair to assume these guys have spent some time listening to the likes of both Duran Duran and Mariah, and everything in between.
Perhaps that explains where the “et cetera” comes from.
There’s a clearly deliberate cohesion on Souvenir that was lacking on the overdone POP ETC. Simplifying the production and easing up on the auto-tune makes for a delightful listen, and a pretty good dance party playlist for fans of other contemporary indie pop artists like Ra Ra Riot or Washed Out.
The boys are currently on tour with Oh Wonder, and will be playing Music Hall of Williamsburg this Friday and Bowery Ballroom on Saturday.
The mysterious electro-R&B 4am released their debut track, “More,” and we’re here to share it with you on this New Music Monday. There’s little known about the male/female duo, but fans of The XX, James Blake, and Chvrches will dig the haunted, sexy cool electro beats, as staticky female vocals poke through to explain: “I need more…” The song invokes emotions surrounding that distinct mental break, hot with both sadness and the thrill of self confidence, when you finally say out loud that you need more, and decided to go out and get it.
For all of the venues we’ve lost in the past couple of years: Death By Audio, Glasslands and 285 Kent to name just a few, I sometimes find myself creeping back into Manhattan in search of a cozy room. The Mercury Lounge is one of those spots that, despite its address in the oft-maligned Lower East Side, has yet to fail me as a concert hall. Where else can you see acts as disparate as Nathaniel Rateliff and Ty Segall? Where else is there an intimately sized space with a soundman who actually knows what the hell he’s doing? Where else would Yonatan Gat be able to order half the crowd to mount the stage while the rest of us encircle him and his band on the floor?
I went into Friday night not quite knowing what to expect, an outlook I’ve always believed yields the best results. I had never seen Monotonix in their heyday, but of course was well aware of the legacy…and the riotous, hedonistic, often-flammable sets they played. Would the night end in sirens? Fisticuffs? Human sacrifice? None such luck for the sadists, but I can say us music lovers were well pleased as Yonatan Gat and Co. delivered the best live performance I’ve seen this year.
Warming the crowd for Gat was local band PC Worship, who I’ve been hearing good things about for a while now. Their set was somber and hard-hitting, with more complexity than you see from most openers. Right off the bat I catch sight of drummer Shannon Sigley, who I can’t help but liken to a young Sandy West. Aside from being ace behind the kit, Sigley is no doubt the charismatic core of the band-with a kind of sex appeal that isn’t tawdry, just plain badass. What can I say? I love a lady drummer!
Vocalist Justin Frye manages to be the technical bandleader while giving his fellow musicians enough breathing room, which makes all the more sense when you learn that many PC Worship members were once New School jazz majors. The length and the freedom of their songs speak to that fact-at one point I split for the restroom mid-track, only to return to the same song, still droning.
PC Worship is a difficult band to genre-baste. Their music is far too texturally interesting to sum-up in one word. There’s punk, jazz, shoegaze, grunge, kraut rock, space rock, jam band…space jam? Whatever you want to call them, you have to hand it to a band who’s bassist doubles as a squealing sax man, and who’s rhythm guitarist can opt for the conga while sat on a cinderblock.
I wasn’t entirely paying attention to the set up between PC Worship and Yonatan Gat, and I have my companion to thank for noticing in time that Gat’s gear was being assembled on the ground. Audience members formed a circle around the instruments and a sharp green light beamed from its nucleus. By the time Yonatan Gat, drummer Gal Lazer, and bassist Sergio Sayeg took to the…floor, there was a tangible buzz in the air.
Something I think of far too little as a music journalist is the crowd – and what an integral part of a show they are! The séance-like encircling of Gat’s band provided a panoramic view of the fans and a chance to stare into the eyes of your peers while sharing the excitement of this one moment in time.
And what excitement! We got 45 minutes of near-unpunctuated noise. Yet another genre-swapping band, the trio volleyed between psych-rock, garage, punk, surf, jazz, and just general sonic mayhem. Both Gat and Sayeg were wizzes on their respective strings, but the drummers stole my heart that evening: Gal Lazer was off the chain.
An immensely skilled percussionist, Lazer looks like Iggy Pop and drums with the thrashing insanity of Keith Moon-a sort of precise madness that you don’t see too often. His style was sexy, staccato, punk-jazz genius. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him…or his unzipped fly, the latter of which may have distracted me from the fact that his brilliant playing was emanating from a toy drum kit. He played so fast that I originally thought he was working a double bass pedal, but I don’t think those have saturated the Fischer Price My-First-Drum-Kit market quite yet.
The colorful workman’s lamps set up by each band member suddenly flicked off, leaving us all in darkness for a moment. As cheers swelled the band remained fixed. Eventually the lights slapped on again to the sound of Gat saying “thank you, very clever.” As it turns out, encores are just as exciting when the band never leaves the room in the first place.
Thursday, January 14 saw Cardiknox opening for The Knocks at Baby’s All Right, making for a poptastic, dance-worthy night. They took the stage with an energy that didn’t leave until the last song was done, and I have a feeling it probably followed them to the merch table, too.
The show had a mixture of the old with an emphasis on the new as their upcoming album, Portrait, just became available for pre-order. This show was the first of Cardiknox’s tour with The Knocks, and it looks like it’s going to be a pretty successful tour if Thursday was any indication.
Frontwoman Lonnie Angle bounced around the stage as Thomas Dutton jammed out next to her. She hit some impressive falsetto notes, and Dutton made sure to follow up with equally impressive riffs. When they played their latest single, “Into the Night,” the crowd lost their minds, jumping to rival Angle’s enthusiasm. They certainly gave everyone there plenty of reason to dance, so it only made sense to react appropriately. There’s not enough concerts that make getting down and boogying into a priority, and Cardiknox are proof enough that we need more of it.
Until you can catch them on tour, listen to “Doors” below.
Coming off last week, one filled with mourning for the moving on of icons from earth to constellations, we found it important to kick off this cold January Monday with something you can dance to. Labeled alt pop, but twinkling like alt disco, RYAL’s single “Jill” will audibly fill your room like a thrift shop disco ball. The song comes from the New Yorker’s upcoming EP, slated to come out February 19.
At first click, I saw visions of Janis Joplin singing “Loaded Gun,” the single off Chrystyna Marie‘s upcoming EP (also named Loaded Gun). She’s a Toronto-native chick and sultry vocalist—also super stunning. She’s no alien to performing and making music; she has won the Kiwanis Music Festival a couple times. When she’s not seeing Infected Mushroom, she’s writing and releasing her own material. Now, her next feat—the EP is definitely grungy, but melodically so. Her voice compliments lyrics like “Yeah, your love is a loaded gun. You shoot me down, just for fun. But tonight, you better run.” Loaded Gun is a brief ensemble of tracks, yet shows the different sides of her blues-y style. In “Down The Road,” she croons like a pre-swing jazz musician, although the track is very much gritty and grungy. Then she tunes down in “No More” and “The Tower,” to a more personal struggle. Adding more piano than guitar riffs in “The Tower,” Chrystyna Marie delivers a more haunting tone. “There will be no breaking down, just breaking through. When it all falls down, who will wear the crown,” she sings. The EP finishes on a poetic note. Look out for the release of Loaded Gun on February 29.
[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”]Illustration by Bejamin Schwartz of The New Yorker.
David Bowie Dies
Just a week ago we were celebrating David Bowie’s 69th birthday and the release of Blackstar, but reviews of the album turned into eulogies with the news that he passed away on Sunday after a fight with terminal cancer. Memorials quickly appeared outside of his Manhattan apartment, and across the country, Bowie Street in Austin was replaced with a sign that read David Bowie Street.
His last album was amazing to begin with, but after the realization that Bowie recorded the album knowing he would not be here much longer, Blackstarhasbecome even more beautiful and haunting. AudioFemme’s Jerilyn Jordan wrote a moving review, which you can read here.
Courtney Barnett Releases New Song
Courtney Barnett has a bad habit, but it’s not what you think. On “Three Packs A Day,” the Australian singer/songwriter celebrates a vice that isn’t cigarettes, but instant ramen: “That MSG tastes good to me, I disagree with all your warnings.” Similar to the work on previous album and EP, Barnett uses her humor to show that she’s a bit of an introvert (and also to warn us of the dangers of ramen addiction): “I’m down to three packs a day, I sneak away to find a kettle/ I withdraw from all my friends and their dinner plans, I’m sick of lentils.” The song will be on on the Milk! Records compilation Good For You, available February 14th.
Father John Misty Performs On The Late Show
“Maybe love is just an institution based on resource scarcity.” The ever-cheerful Father John Misty performed on “The Late Show With Stephen Colbert” last night, playing the normally quieter, stripped-down song “Holy Shit.” If you’ve ever seen FJM live, you’ll know that he thrives on being unpredictable, so naturally, midway through his song things take an unexpected turn. He’ll be going on a Spring tour in April, but won’t be coming to NYC until the Governors Ball Music Festival this summer.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o3eDqluZ-Cs
Brooklyn’s Market Hotel Anounces Reopening
The DIY space on Myrtle and Broadway in Bushwick was closed for five years, but after an anonymous grant (and a Sleater-Kinney show last month), Market Hotel announced they will be officially, and legally reopening the weekend of January 22nd. Bands that will playing that weekend include Via App, Kill Alters, Dreamcrusher, Malory, Guerilla Toss, PC Worship, Pill and special guests that have yet to be announced.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NN4PDI1VDHY
Upcoming Shows
For our readers in NYC, here are the shows we recommend for this weekend and next week:
You probably won’t be surprised to hear that Rubblebucket completely rocked my and many other worlds on Friday, January 11 at Brooklyn Bowl. And you also probably won’t be surprised to know that attending one of their shows is an unrivaled live experience that stuck with me for days afterwards.
Opening with their slow yet jammy “My Life,” the group was greeted by jumping, dancing fans almost as soon as their fingers struck the first guitar chord. From there, people only proceeded to lose their minds in the best way possible. It was difficult to figure out who was having more fun at the show—Rubblebucket or their fans.
Lead singer and saxophonist, Annakalmia Traver, knows how to get down. No, seriously. Not only can she belt out spine-tingling vocals, but she could probably also exhaust an entire class of kindergarteners with her seemingly endless supply of energy. There was also an incredible amount of synchronized dance moves, whether it was Alex Toth on trumpet and Adam Dotson on trombone getting down together or the entire band sweeping the stage in rhythm. It’s rare to find a band that grooves together so seamlessly, and Rubblebucket has got a serious connection to each other.
Not only did they perform some fan favorites like “Origami,” “Shake Me Around,” and “On the Ground,” but they also regaled us with plenty of new music. Traver, Troth, and Dotson hopped off the stage during “Came Out of a Lady,” weaving their way through the crowd while keeping the song going. And during “Carousel Ride,” Traver donned a fluffy pink tutu and jumped around the stage, completely lost in the song. And that’s a perfect way to summarize pretty much the entire show: lots of singing, dancing, and an overall passion for music from both performers and fans.
Now, I know what you’re wondering—was there confetti? Of COURSE there was confetti! And balloons! And balloons filled with confetti! And costume changes! And an inflatable raft carrying Traver across the crowd! It was ridiculous and amazing, and now I kind of want it to happen at every show I go to from now on.
They closed out the set with their cover of Fugazi’s “Waiting Room” and “Hey Charlie,” making for a very ska-inspired, dance-worthy night. But it didn’t quite end there. Toth and Dotson walked off into the crowd where they jammed out a bit more with a robot that danced overhead. It’s almost hard to find the proper words to articulate the aura around Brooklyn Bowl that night, but I haven’t really stopped smiling since Friday.
Of the many adjectives one could foist upon musicians, “pure” does not top the heap. And yet no word could ring more true when describing Cass McCombs’ set at the Bowery Ballroom last Thursday. And when I say “pure,” I do not mean chaste or innocent, but pure in form. Unadulterated. Music for music’s sake, void of frills, gimmicks, and needless chatter.
Opening the evening were Soldiers Of Fortune, a band (or as their bandcamp page declares, an ANTI-BAND!) with incredible stamina given their 12-year history. Often described as a sort of “indie rock supergroup” (Brooklyn Vegan), Soldiers Of Fortune includes members of already successful bands such as Oneida, Interpol, and Chavez to name just a few. Wordlessly taking the stage, they built a layer cake of sound over a span of 45 minutes. Without stopping. Drummer Kid Millions (Oneida) was a sort of charismatic focal point-an odd role for a drummer to be sure. Kid jostled around with a playful Davey Jones air, yelping inspired nonsense throughout the epic “song.” I’d hate to describe SOF as a jam band, due to the horrendous connotations (PHISH!), however it is difficult to think of any other brand with which to stamp them. I suppose this is why labels are so discouraged in the arts.
In a pre-show interview, again from Brooklyn Vegan, McCombs expressed a desire for the evening to be a warmer for the cold weather…a kind of “wintertime orgy,” as he put it. Unfortunately for McCombs, the only sex appeal omitted that night was provided entirely by him. Watching from dead center of the balcony, I cast a wide sight on the at-capacity crowd, and much to the dismay of a hopeful orgy conductor, things were a bit stiff. (No. Not like that, perverts.) Aside from Cass’s effortless magnetism, the most sensual antic the audience could muster came from the boisterous woman to my right, shout-singing the lyrics to “Proud Mary” over a song that was anything but. Meeeeowww.
But I digress. Wasn’t this show about the purity of form? The Music? That’s right. Much like SOF, McComb’s played a nearly banter-less set, pausing between songs only a couple of times for a “thank you” or “peace.” So the fact that he and his band (including Jon Shaw, Dan Iead, and not one, but two drummers) played a two-hour-plus selection of tunes. Thrown in the mix were such greats as “Robin Egg Blue,” “Brighter,” and “Big Wheel.” Naturally, the encore was as aimless and unpredictable as a troubadour like McCombs would have it – just one big “jam.” McCombs actually is a big Phish fan, which might dock his sexy points. But not that much.
But Phish or no Phish, shouting par-drunken fans falling into me or not, nothing can spoil McCombs’s allure, let alone detract from the quality of his songs. He truly has what makes a great musician, solely on these grounds, but goes further with regards to value. He recently threw a benefit for Bernie Sanders, and his ballad for Bradley Manning surfaced on the acclaimed news program Democracy Now. Sex appeal and substance? Yes please.
[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”]Photos by Alicia Gbur. Clockwise from top left: Christian Doble, Michael Spence, Matt Rickle, and Alicia Gbur.
Whilst record shopping, my eye caught a gig poster featuring none other than one of my longtime favorite local foursomes, FAWNN, and I thought to myself, “these assholes should take that poster down.” I figured it was old, and that the record store should be punished for getting my hopes up. To my surprise, it wasn’t old, and the show hadn’t happened yet. In fact, FAWNN joins Siamese, Odd Hours, and Tart January 30th at The Loving Touch in Ferndale.
When FAWNN formed in 2010, they were already seasoned veterans of the indie rock Detroit culture. Alicia Gbur was front woman of The Nice Device as well as a touring member of The Von Bondies. Christian Doble rocked with Child Bite and Kiddo, and later added drummer Matt Rickle of Javelins and Thunderbirds Are Now!, along with Mike Spence who was a member of the sultry pop force Those Transatlantics. With their rich musical resumes backing them and their irreverent collage of talent propelling them, FAWNN created their first LP, Coastlines, in 2012. Reminiscent of The New Pornographers’ Twin Cinema meets The Shins’ Chutes Too Narrow with a sprinkling of Surfer Blood’s Astro Coast, Coastlines fell into the category of albums that demanded an encore.Four years later, it looks as though we will finally get one.
“We’ve been recording it over the last two years and it’s finished! It’s called Ultimate Oceans and will be out on Quite Scientific in the late spring,” says friend and drummer, Matt Rickle. “We’re stoked about it. The four of us really hit a good stride.” The gap between releases was contingent on guitarist Mike Spence, who split to take a job opportunity. “We didn’t want to replace him,” Rickle said. “But now he’s back! It took a little time to get this album together. It never really felt like we stopped.”
Yes, it’s great news that FAWNN is returning. But after knowing Rickle for as long as I have and learning that he is as passionate of an admirer as I am, it was impossible for me not to mention the magnitude of our shared mourning over the loss of the incomparable David Bowie. “Ever since I discovered my dad’s copy of Young Americans 20 years ago, Bowie has been it for me. He gave me a taste of the strange early on, and my tastes went sideways ever since then,” says Rickle. “I feel like I recognize his urge to always try something different and reinvent your creativity.” I have no doubt that FAWNN’s followup will be an expression of the aforementioned reinvention of creativity, and Detroit can’t wait to hear what that sounds like.
Check out the video for “No Wave” from FAWNN’s 2012 release here:
Today for New Music Monday we have the debut track “Monde” from Stranded Horse. The African-influenced French language track is one of many magnificent gems from their latest LP Luxe.Soothing and introspective, the song warms like a bath surrounded by candles, the room filled with vocal incantations. Stranded Horse is the latest inception of artist Yann Tambour. Plucking at his guitar, on “Monde” Tambour’s strings are augmented by vocals from friend Eloise Decazes of Arlt.
This is not a reinvention. This is not an attempt at recreation. And this is most certainly not a desperate cry for relevancy. This is Blackstar, the latest resurrection from our fearless space age troubadour and faithful freak, David Bowie. There is simple poetry for releasing his 25th studio album on his 69th birthday. Blackstar feels like a gift and paradoxically a curse as he explores tragedy, nihilism, and dystopia — but with a hopeful tonality that makes us believe what I’ve always thought to be true: Bowie knows something we don’t. What feels like a gentle retaliation against the pressures of legacy and the acceptance of finality, Bowie filters his message through a voice that is less fictionalized character or crafted moniker but through David Bowie at 69: a man who has lived it ten times or more.
“It’s like Blackstar is his attempt at invisibility,” Michael said. We sat in the still of the closing track “I Can’t Give Everything Away.” I explain to him my elementary attempt at a scientific definition of a black star and how the way in which one is forged prevents the particles from occupying the same space at the same time. We talk about Bowie’s body of work and I remind Michael of that time three years ago when I had decided I would crash my car into a cement divider on the freeway. I was crying, it was raining, and Bowie’s “Modern Love” came over the radio as I closed my eyes and stopped tracing the lines of the road in my mind. “But I never wave bye-bye/But I try/I try.” Bowie forced my eyes open as the road curved to the right and my hands regained their grip. I didn’t die that day three years ago. Bowie made sure of it.
It is after two thorough listens of Blackstar that I go out for a cigarette. I was already procrastinating and flirting with my deadline, but a cigarette in the quiet confines of Michael’s garage seemed necessary. Michael follows behind even though he doesn’t smoke. I squat on the ground for warmth and open Facebook instinctively. I scroll through three statuses all claiming the same horrifying news. I hand Michael my phone. “Tell me it’s not real.” He takes it from my hands, scrolls, scrolls, taps and shakes his head with an open mouth. “I’m sorry.” He said. “David Bowie is dead.”
We stand several feet apart, suspended by loss and paralyzed with “What now?”
“Let’s get some air.”
I fumbled with the frozen door handle and propel myself forward, as if the house were on fire and I was fighting for smokeless air. I looked to the sky and desperately wanted to see a star or a sign of life. But the winter clouds were thick and the air was tight against my throat. “I hope he knew. He had to know that we loved him.” Michael and I shivered against each other as I covered his shoulder in tears and snot. “He knew.” Michael said. Similarly, I knew the universe continued to swell and explode from behind the Michigan clouds and out of human sight in the same way that Bowie will never truly be gone. Out of reach, maybe, but never gone.
A final act, Blackstar is not. Rather a fitting ellipsis on his countless cosmic journeys through the perils of reality and once again Bowie has invited us to take his hand and follow behind, trudging gracefully against gravity and the notion that we are more than just messy, breathing constellations of matter. This journey is different, though. In this story he lets go. He leads us to the glittering precipice and simply lets go. It’s up to us now, both alone and together, to find our way back to Earth (or wherever it is we call home).
During the track “Girl Loves Me” Bowie cries, “Who the fuck’s gonna mess with me?” I can’t help but imagine him during the moments before his earthly departure with that very question on his lips and I can’t help but silently and lovingly answer “No one.”
Watch David Bowie say goodbye in the video for “Lazarus” below.
Ticket Giveaways
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