Lizzyville

Mp3 | White Hinterland - "Lucky Cloud" (Arthur Russell Cover)

Mp3 | Pierre de Gaillande - "The Princess and the Troubadour"

Video | Brandi Carlile - "I Will" - Live on Q Radio Canada

Video | Lissie - "Look Away"

Lissie Maurus, who got kicked out of high school.

"She lives by herself, with her dog, in a farmhouse in Ojai, Calif., where she tends to drink wine and will, on a whim, go to the store to buy paint for her rocks so she can construct a medicine wheel in her big backyard." [Daytrotter]

Um, yes please.

Mp3 | Basia Bulat - "Gold Rush"

The Canadian folk-pop singer is coming to Brooklyn's Bell House tomorrow, October 7. The show has been canceled due to visa issues, according to Beggars Group. Listen to "Gold Rush" from her forthcoming second album, Heart of My Own, out Jan 26, 2010.

Hear, Here | Mp3s from Girls, Choir of Young Believers & DM Stith

Here's my new free mp3 feature. Don't ask how often it'll run. It was inspired by reading Greg Kot's Ripped: How the Wired Generation Revolutionized Music, subsequently writing "The (Indie) Music Industry Is All Right" for my PopMatters column, Backslash (top article on the site for two weeks!), and subsequently reading Nick Hornby's "The thrill of it all," about mp3 blogs, in The Guardian (read it now!)

Choir of Young Believers - "Action/Reaction"

DM Stith - "Pigs" feat. Jefferson Street Band

Girls - "Hellhole Ratrace"

On Your Shopping List:

Choir of Young Believers - This Is For The White In Your Eyes (Ghostly, 8.18.09)

DM Stith - Thanksgiving Moon EP (Asthmatic Kitty, 11.3.09)

Girls - Album (True Panther Sounds/Matador, 9.22.09)

Photo courtesy of Girls

Photos: Lia Ices at Sir | Fashion's Night Out | 09.10.09

Lia Ices performed at Sir's Williamsburg store last night as part of Fashion's Night Out. (Unfortunately, I photographed her using a crap point-and-shoot.) She's really catching fire following the 2008 release of her debut album, Necima. She's put out a few videos, did an acoustic performance for Fader recently, and will be playing Joe's Pub on October 20. When I emailed her people about press coverage of that show, she responded herself. Let's just say that by this time next year, she won't be answering her own e-mails. This virtuosic Vermonter is one of the most talented singer-songwriters I've heard in awhile.

Video | Glasser - "Apply"

This is relatively old hat but somehow has only been played 1,800 times on YouTube. It perfectly captures the feeling one gets after downing some (legitimately prescribed!) painkillers and drinking a glass of rosé.

Florence + The Machine

"Kiss With A Fist," the Florence + The Machine single that many of us heard long before her debut, Lungs, dropped, was nothing to speak of. It's a White Stripes song. It's a Hives song. It's a rock song. Placed on the end of the lengthy Lungs, which at 13 tracks features two covers - "You've Got The Love" and "Girl With One Eye" - and 11 originals, "Kiss With A Fist" makes little sense, because the rest of the album is all Patrick Wolf, Annie Lennox, a smidge of Neko Case and a lot of gospel influence. There's definitely some Hayley Williams in there but I'll refrain from referencing solely other redheaded singers. It's a heavy album. It's a loud album. Florence Welch's voice will pierce your eardrums. You won't always love its consistent need to shout and get the feelings out, but the melodies for the most part make up for it.

At 22, she's a young lass. She hails from Ireland and as the story goes, was discovered in a club bathroom while singing in the stall. She had been writing songs for some time, but didn't do anything with them. That bathroom trip did wonders. So did getting into the studio, where the results seem to be just what Welch likes: the power of a "big, fat choir": big drums, vocal layering, heavily manipulated keys and the occasional (and unnecessary) guitar. Her lyrics are quite accomplished, which you'll observe in the track I've included below. She sings about "guilt," according to one interview, about love, about "air," about a bird that does something wrong and then bequeaths his guilt to the human who eats him.

Her own songs are never timid, never cute, and never without reference to countless forebears. Blame the producers: Welch is on Island Records, which hired Paul Epworth (Muse, Bloc Party, Goldfrapp, Annie...the list goes on) and James Ford (Mecury Prize-winning Klaxons album Myths Of The Near Future, a member of Simian Mobile Disco, and currently the drummer for The Last Shadow Puppets) to work their magic. The result is that there are some clear hits on this album and some clear non-hits. Drowned In Sound's early track-by-track assessment is worth reading to see what kind of "huh?"s the overproduction inspires.

Do not listen to the craptastic and lazy reviews that have listed Kate Bush and Tori Amos as influences of Welch's as if those two women are the only creative female singer-songwriters in the history of mankind. Also as Bat for Lashes said in a recent Pitchfork interview - why do women musicians have to be compared with women musicians? Awful. Those reviewers never should have been hired (inevitably on the basis of one capable piece of writing) and I'm not even going to grace them with a link.

Explore the intense vocal power in the video for "Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up)":

Now here's a track, my personal favorite:

Florence And The Machine - "Cosmic Love"

Video | Cat Power Power Hour

Photo: Paper Magazine

I give you (60) 35 minutes of Cat Power. I just read the lady's first biography, "Cat Power: A Good Woman" by music critic and former Blender editor-at-large Elizabeth (sometimes Lizzy) Goodman. Fair & balanced review in PopMatters forthcoming. Let's just say it is the longest PR one-sheet I've ever read and I loved it because I love Chan. Her story speaks for itself. Terrible title though. Embarrassing to read on subway.

BEFORE YOU WATCH ANYTHING ELSE: Watch the Cat Power AOL Sessions here! 5 videos. If you haven't already, that is. The Lady Gaga sessions are also incredible.

"The Greatest" live on "Later With Jools Holland."

The video that started it all: "Cross Bones Style."

"He War"

THE ICING ON THE CAKE: "Maybe Not" live on Letterman.

New York Times interview from 2006.

"Nude as the News" (OLD SCHOOL).

"Love and Communication" acoustic.

"Metal Heart" live in 1998.

Ok that's enough.

Song of the Day | Patrick Wolf - "Hard Times"

Patrick Wolf's "The Bachelor" is, more than any of his previous albums, a soundtrack to his life that appears to draw imaginatively from verdant countrysides and films set there, such as "Shakespeare in Love" or "LOTR" or "Braveheart." Many of the songs feature recorders (hard not to think of "My Heart Will Go On") and sweeping string arrangements. I picture Wolf riding on a dragon's back through Middle Earth. Excuse the mixed reference.

The first full track, "Hard Times," is completely different. It's serious and scary and probably the best on the album. While he may actually be discussing hard emotional times (see "Damaris," with the lyrics, "Damn you, Damaris / I really loved you"), it's a perfect anthem to the recession. The tone is hopeful and determined. There are no recorders in sight. The lyrics are:

As these are hard times
We'll work harder, harder
Through these hard times
I'll work harder, harder

Divided nation,
In sedation
Overload of information, that
We have grown up to ignore
Mediocrity applauded

In these hard times
We'll work harder, harder
Through these hard times
I'll work harder, harder
for resolution
Show me some revolution
This battle will be won!

Forced to count the hours
Since two towers
Fell to fiction
Those higher powers
Putting gods to war
Who keeps score?
Ignorance is still adored

And through these hard times
We'll work harder, harder
Give me hard times,
I'll work harder, harder
For revolution
Hard time for some resolution
Time for some revolution
This battle will be won!

Harder, harder, harder, now!

If they only see you with their fear
And they only hear you with their pride
And they only see you with their fear
And they only hear you with their pride
And we'll work harder, harder, harder, harder,
Harder, harder, harder, harder,
Hard times!

Video | DM Stith - "Pity Dance"

DM Stith- Pity Dance from Asthmatic Kitty on Vimeo.

I am OBSESSED WITH HIM. Last night at Neko Case I even had this momentary reverie where I was like, hm, I wish DM Stith was the opener or was here right now or was playing in NYC this week. He's off to Europe though. COME BACK SOON.

Album Review | Bat for Lashes - Two Suns

Syke! You'll have to read my review (which I began writing in February!!) at Tiny Mix Tapes, where my music criticism has taken up residence for the foreseeable future. CLICK ON IMAGE or here.

Other reviews of Bat for Lashes for comparison purposes!

PopMatters - 6/10 - includes really cute pic of Natasha that perfectly captures the mood of the album.

The Guardian - 4 stars - short and sweet and overly complimentary.

Paste - 84 - the album "demands attention," apparently. I say at least "Siren Song" does.

Neko Case's "Middle Cyclone" Remains High on Billboard Chart

Neko Case's album, well-received by everyone from Sasha Frere-Jones in The New Yorker to Paste Magazine, Pitchfork, SPIN, The Guardian, and The Onion, debuted on the Billboard album chart at 3, slipped to 17 in its second week, and is now at 28. Well, with bands like Twiztid now in the mix, what do you expect? Also, Kelly Clarkson flew in to the number-one spot last week, with that lollipop-like cover begging a purchase, or at the very least a stream. But I imagine it's one of those albums that was recorded too loud and gives the listener a jump upon first listen. From the 30-second samples on iTunes, it sounds like it has about three quality pop numbers on it.

"Middle Cyclone," meanwhile, has many more great tracks, but squarely none of them is a pop song, so it is a triumph that the album is swimming so strongly in the mainstream. I would go as far as Frere-Jones did in saying that it is her best album yet. But its trajectory to the listener is the opposite of its trajectory on the Billboard chart, as these things often go. The more experimental instrumentation--namely a bunch of old pianos, the saxophone on the stunning "Red Tide," a dulcimer and traditional strings--hit you first, followed by the complex arrangements. Yes, the traditional song structure lies skeletally there on every track, but she leaps out of the constraints frequently.

Listen closely for the way "Fever" transforms itself into a march of powerful vocals halfway through. "People Got A Lot of Nerve" manages to be both intrinsically Neko, but melodically bold. "I'm An Animal" is randomly this modern classic rock ballad, a pleasant, energetic rhythm full of strong but simple chord strums. "Prison Girls," which follows it, returns Case to her drawling guitar howling, but surprises with pepperings of pizzicatto strings, an oddly confident exploration of a confused identity, and a nice little assonant refrain that alternates with the chorus, "I love your long shadows / and your gunpowder eyes." Case is intrinsically herself a lot, primarily because her time signatures all verge on, or simply are, a waltz. But there is enough else going on that this becomes unimportant on subsequent listens.

In the past few week's flurry of new albums to listen to including the (overrated) "It's Blitz," "Living Things," "Fever Ray," and "Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix," "Middle Cyclone" got tossed aside after a couple of weeks of concentrated intimacy. But there are so many more layers to peel off this onion.

What I liked about "Fox Confessor Brings the Flood" (2006) was how diverse and sort of uncompetitive it was. "Hold On, Hold On" is still one of my favorite songs of hers and is one of many that seem quickly forgotten. But then, Neko Case isn't about hits, whether she's on the Billboard chart or not. Each fan has their own hits on their own chart.

Photo credit: Neko Case's Myspace page.

D.M. Stith

Is there ever going to be anyone like Thom Yorke again? We're okay for now because Thom Yorke still exists and works. But I've always yearned for his virtuosic, sad, shy vocal rivulets and cryptic little poems in someone else. Could his shtick exist in someone else, somewhere else, and be owned by that person? Or would it be derivative, subject to endless comparison and bashing? I suppose I just want someone to have that drive and courage, new yet familiar, promising and stunning.

D.M. Stith, a visual artist otherwise known as David Stith, is a worthy candidate. (So is Grizzly Bear--see previous post.) According to an interview on WNYC, Stith, who has worked with My Brightest Diamond, apparently promised Asthmatic Kitty a record. I don't know how many artists can say their musical career began in such a way. In any case, he made it, spending a year trying to figure out what the hell he was doing while probably knowing deep down he was capable of doing well at whatever it was, or at least, enjoying the project. Stith describes the album as a reflection of this search process. He would sit down at his computer every day and have no idea what was going to come out. Like his "bad poetry" from high school, which he started with a single word, "one foot in front of the other, one word in front of the other," the album came through a series of little tinkerings and utterances. It is wonderful that such tentativeness yielded such a brilliant work.

Stith likes creating cacophonic vocal lines that swirl like an angry pack of ghouls around your ear. He employs piano, acoustic guitar and small orchestra to lend weight and fear to this already powerful mixture. Crackling percussion fed semingly by nature does fine work decorating more readable vocal lines like on the much-discussed "Pity Dance." I see witches dancing in front of a cauldron, a Greek chorus of wolves baying in the background. On "Creekmouth" he uses a powdery artillary of drums to roll the rhythm forward, wild vocals egging them on. This is the kind of stuff Mystery Jets has tried to do. And of course, there are some sleepy moments, like "BMB," but even those are carefully woven, instrumentally varied and ultimately just as memorable. Another standout track is the Jolie Holland-like "Thanksgiving Moon" and the Andrew Bird-like "Fire of Birds." Andrew Bird is definitely Stith's kindred spirit.

The album is out now. Check D.M. Stith out on MySpace, and prepare to suddenly have a fondness for the end of winter.

D.M. Stith - "Fire of Birds"

Talkin 'bout irony

Here.

Also, how fabulous is the Deerhunter album, really?

Work's got me tumblin in the undertow with hope and glee like a bad surfer on Bondi Beach.

M. Craft

I like just about anything with the word 'craft' in it, or maybe just two things.  This underrated, underpressed specimen of Australian rock happens to be named M. Craft.  As in Martin.  His album is actually available for free via this, his website, so I will post a track below.  I like to source myself so I will say that I found out about Mr. Craft from the Top 20 Albums list of Soundbites, music blogger.  This song is simple, sad, and beautiful.  He generally reminds me of Erlend Øye in his Whitest Boy Alive incarnation, but only on certain songs.  And he's way more successful at underdone rock ballads.  This song is more of a +/- or Iron & Wine or Long Winters sort of jam with weird creepy female vocals occasionally and a dark, scary guitar riff at the chorus.  Listen!

M. Craft - "The Soldier"

Top 20 Albums of 2006

On Artists

Not to keep on about this chickadee, but I must say, Chris Dahlen had it right when he said last week,

"nobody's going to reject a record this bold just because Newsom uses the word "thee" on occasion, or because she appears in promotional photos wearing a wolf pelt ass-up on her head.  What we really can't handle is escapism. We instinctively balk at artists who hunker down in their own worlds-- especially when they force us to guess what they're thinking."

When I was more or less 'go-getting' at my place of work last dim Sunday eve, I stood for a moment before the window, watched the night fold over and over like coats of paint, and observed the tree in the backyard as my customer jogged beside me on a treadmill, my brain running away with words I hoped I'd remember to write down later.  I was having one of my catatonic moments of "hunkering down," and felt nearly ashamed for it. 

There's a time and place.  I don't get paid to "hunker down," but by God, I love hunkering down. While I do it, I discover new wines,* the endurance of my computer's battery, and the elasticity of my mind.

Try it!

*A compadre in shoe sales and endurance athletics (and hence life, and even hunkering down) recently said, [strong Western Mass. accent], "Wine opens up areas in your mind that you didn't even know were there."  And being a sentimental soul, I've saved all the corks and recorded my visits to the theres.

Live: Joanna Newsom, Webster Hall, 11.13.06

When a set of music has been literally orchestrated, as a symphony or, in the case of Joanna Newsom's new album, a veritable concerto––five tracks, supported by strings, ranging in length from 7 to 16 minutes––the pleasure in hearing it performed live is not really related to sound so much as meaning.  Even for those of us most interested in sounds––the sound of music, the sound of word––sight will trump.  As we find ourselves yards back from the stage fixated intently on the performer, we'll be transformed as fans.  And it's not the eighteen dollar double shot of whiskey; it's that face hammering home hundreds of words.

Joanna Newsom is petite and pale with wavy, dirty blond hair that cascades down her back.  She's Californian, but is more convincing as a Hardy heroine, with a girlish figure, a makeup-free, nearly unkempt face, and an expression of modest bewilderment also known as intense concentration.  Watching her on Monday, it was easy to see she’s a classical musician at heart: a hardworking and subdued individual with a great talent, both with words and music, that allows her to eloquently unharness emotion and passion.  Her new album is, as many have said, a masterpiece, intimidating and embracing, and something that must be embraced even (especially) by the most diehard haters of women, of female musicians other than Patti Smith, or of The Milk-Eyed Mender, her two-year-old debut. 

At Webster Hall, Newsom played each track of Ys in order and employed guitars, banjos, and a backup vocalist as her replacement Van Dyke Parks. This of course adds to the intimacy: Ys becomes less a concerto and more just another unplugged folk performance.  But it’s not fucking folk.  And it’s not ‘just another’ anything. It’s unclassifiable and stunning.

What you notice in your drunken transfixion is a) that the orchestra’s soul is still there, just missing a half dozen strings and their guts: the guitar family is minimalist and reserved, following along behind Newsom’s melodies like timid animals; and b) that the context of these songs begs understanding.  The live performance is only further enlightenment of their pretty much unknowable meaning.  My guess is: family life gone astray, romances destroyed by loss, and a life lived in ornate and peaceful landscapes, removed from cities and the boring, overcooked energy with which music about cities can be composed. 

Hence Thomas Hardy.  Newsom is not so much a fan of metaphors but, as Hardy was, the intense relationship between nature and the mind; the psychological connection between a person and his/her landscape.  This is not an oeuvre of comparisons so much as literal, concrete interactions: Newsom’s father explaining meteors; her affectionate observations of flora and fauna. (Though of course the metaphors are valuable, too.) Ys is an example of how nature transforms and helps our understanding of inward problems with which nature might have little to do.  The album is richly visual, and in a live performance Newsom’s lyrics are louder, are more substantive. It’s the same effect as being taught something in a classroom, if only one were drunk and standing in a sweaty crowd in a classroom. At a Newsom show,  you’re listless, adoring, attentive.  There are glimmers of meaning you didn’t hear before. You finally get this or that. And every subsequent listen of the album will yield more meaning.

This is why live shows exist. Not only to give the artist a little money and watch her face glow with stunned surprise at the vastness of her happy audience, but to examine the work in another light, which, by the bye, was red and blue, bright and sharp, focused directly over Newsom’s immaculate pallor, angel hair, and the majestic instruments of lady and harp.