Tuesday, June 30, 2015

6/30/15

"I swear I'll never let you down again."



Is there anything - anything - better than the solace of an incredible new song from an incredible band about to put forth an incredible new album? I am still so in awe of "The Greatest Generation" that I was holding my breath a little bit on what we might hear from The Wonder Years this year, but after hearing "Cardinals" I feel this will be amazing, when Dan Campbell continues to write such phenomenal words and pull out these devastating truths ("We're no saviors/If we can't save our brothers") and the band supplies such layered melodies and frenzied rhythms. I stayed at work an hour later than usual, because I didn't want to be without it on the drive home and haven't bought the pre-order yet. The hook is so good, and so telling of what this band can do. Can't get over the drum part in the chorus, it's too tricky for me to count but I love how it ascends, and then the gang vocals at the close, something of a trademark for this six-piece-plus, tie the whole thing together. Putting out a single this soon makes me think there will be another one or two before the album drops in September - or at least, that's what I can hope for, because new songs and new sounds and new feelings are all that I can hope for on the horizon, even better when they're grown from the same favorite spots I always founds them.


Monday, June 29, 2015

6/29/15



Currently celebrating the fact I had the wisdom to make the spontaneous purchase of Elliot Smith on vinyl a few months ago. Called "An Introduction to Elliott Smith," it has some of my most favorite tracks including the original "Miss Misery" and "Twilight." After a weekend with rained-out plans and little to do but listen to the storm and my head and the music, I put this on and heard Smith the closest to the way I did when I first discovered his work: closed up, locked up and searching for serenity.

People will tell you he is sad and melodramatic. He certainly can be those things,  but listening to his music has such a profound, uplifting effect when you're already mostly down. It's partly his playing style, patient and plucky, and largely his vocal delivery, as delicate and withdrawn as he was. His heat so obviously broken always  - even when he's a little more aggressive about it, or when it's barely beating. He's a songwriter's songwriter, when it comes to the simplicity he displayed. The best lines that punch you in the chest are the ones that come with the least anticipation, like in this little two-verse lament. The rhymes are elementary, accessible, as they toss around these concepts of love and loss and death and lucidity.

There's something so somber-pleasant about his work, like wildflowers plucked off by the wind.

"I'm waiting for the train
Subway that only goes one way

The stupid thing that'll come to pull us apart,
And make everybody late.
You spent everything you had
Wanted everything to stop that bad,
Now I'm a crashed credit card registered to Smith -
Not the name that you called me with.


You turned white like a saint,
I'm tired of dancing on a pot of gold-flaked paint.
Oh we're so very precious, you and I.And everything that you do makes me want to die,
Oh I just told the biggest lie.

 
I just told the biggest lie.
The biggest lie.
"

~The Biggest Lie
Elliott Smith, Elliot Smith
 

Monday, June 22, 2015

6/22/15

"There's something about you
That reminds me of all those times
When I wasn't sorry, when I wasn't blue
The cherry moon it shone down on us
Under the stars shining down every one for you
If I could count them all
I would circle the moon
And count 'em back to nothing
Till I got to you."




Is "Cold Roses" really a decade old, somehow, this year? I'll take it - I'll take any excuse I can to indulge in this indulgent Americana exercise. It's a damn brilliant record.

I know "Cold Roses" like I know the bottom of my feet, in the sense that I could tell you what they look like without sacrificing the potential surprise. I love Ryan Adams, and this was among the first full-lengths of his I really got into. For a double LP, it is incredibly memorable, with a sound and style that truly carry in the same frame throughout. I like how it sounds on vinyl- no, love, because the track order is different a bit and it still keeps you guessing then. I bought this on vinyl, in Austin, before I had a record player, because I knew that even though I didn't have one I'd known then I would want it later.

That was 2012. Sounds farther away than it was, really, time passes so fast and full. This track, "Meadowlake Street," passes up too, it goes so fast without much of a command before the snare, and everything changes to the ear except the melody, which is familiar by this three-quarters through point. That theme picks up later in the album, "Beautiful Sorta" with a more up-front swing, then the title track's own solo frenzy. In the same vein is "If I am a Stranger," though the softer takes of "Now That You're Gone" and the blues-tinged "Life is Beautiful" are of a softer touch. I don't ever tire of his guitar sounds, lyrical subtleties or finer points of naivete indulgence. Bring it - that's the only way you learn, Given that ten years out we're all still talking about Ryan Adams, I'd say he's not the worst as far as following your inspirations is concerned.

"Something in you dies, when it's over
Everybody cries sometimes
If loving you's a dream
That's not worth having
Then why do I dream of you?"

~Meadowlake Street
Ryan adams and the Cardinals, Cold Roses

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

6/16/15



My summer of spontaneous concert opportunitues continues to shock and amaze me - tonight I get to hear the reincarnated works of the Smashing Pumpkins, and assess once and for all how I really feel about Billy Corgan.

I'm no superfan, though my heart breaks every time I hear "Disarm" and "Today" is one of my go-to morning commute jams. I remember first listening to Mellon Collie when I was a sophomore or junior in high school, maybe, intimidated by its epic reputation and wondering if I was going to "get it" the way I was supposed to as a concept album (one that will be celebrating its 20th anniversary this October). I was pretty enthralled, intrigued by the thundering, aggressive beauty that seemed so much harsher and also darker, than my pop punk interests. I latched onto "Siamese Dream" shortly after, and thus began a lasting respect for one of modern rock music' most enduring acts.

The tour is billed as electro-acoustic. I'm expecting to hear new songs, as they're promoting a recent release that so far seems O.K. I'm crossing my fingers for the stripped-down classics, which remain relevant and real and moving, no matter the decade or circumstance.

"Mother weep the years I'm missing
All our time can't be given back
Shut my mouth and strike the demons
That cursed you and your reasons

Out of hand and out of season
Out of love and out of feeling so bad."

~Mayonaise
Smashing Pumpkins, Siamese Dream

Monday, June 15, 2015

6/15/15



I first heard this song on a long drive back sometime this spring. From where, I don't remember, but I was heading in some direction on the Turnpike, and when I drive the those kinds of highways, I often like to listen to the radio. Whatever market it is, I just pass the time by sipping coffee and scanning the stations. So much through the midstate is country or Christian or talk radio. I wind up listening to NPR a lot, and on this particular occasion, the program had an interview with PHOX and played their single "Slow Motion."

I enjoyed it - her voice especially, and that banjo riff - and then I found myself wondering about all the little bands out there with their new, derivative sounds, and could this one cut through the noise? It wasn't until this played during a set change at a local rock show last night and I recognized the hook that I remembered them. In the past two days, I've played it about eight times.

From the creator's perspective, you always strive for your work to be memorable. In the highest of daydreams, your work connects to others in a way that inspires them, that heals them, that gives them better perspective to understand the world or their lives or our times. But this goal is also really flexible. Just giving someone an enjoyable few minutes is success. The next listen, or the next listener, becomes a better marker for how well the work connects overall. That lasting potential is the elusive ingredient.

I'm feeling a weird listener's guilt for enjoying this song earlier and then not checking out the band further, as is my usual mode of finding new music and enjoying artists. But, since it came back around and I recognized it, I'd say PHOX did their job. Tough to not like that hook. I've decided it's a sweet new tune to kick off a week of muggy, wet summer, something to interrupt the daily doldrums and constant mental maladies. It is not quite happy, but it is perceptive and wandering and patient, and full of air and lightness.

I'm surprised I like this. I don't love this formula. And I usually hate whistling in songs. Like really hate it. It's kitschy as hell. But I don't mind it here, it works - maybe because it's followed by such a heavy, up-front bass, and the banjo is charming, and the oboe solo (!!!) before the bridge is pretty magnificent and rich and unexpected. I really appreciate the fullness this song builds to, and the skill required to make it sound cohesive with so much going on isn't nothing. Bands like this can get so overanxious and obnoxious with too many elements weaving in and out of another, but this builds really well, like a long and winding road, with honeysuckle vocals and blue bonnet bells dotting the path.

I checked out some of their live material on YouTube and found it really interesting. Better playing than expected, and a bluesy vibe lurking under the strings. While that interest may rise and fall, or pass with time and other surprises, I feel it is worth recognition, if just  the lesson: one simple - albeit instrumentally complex! - song can be heard once and promptly forgotten for a myriad of reasons, and then catch you off-guard as a perfect fit. No matter how long it lasts.

"Everything I do, I do in slow motion
I don't know what to say
Everywhere I fall, don't know name or location
Baby, I'll just find my way, I'll find it
Heavy is my sleeping, terror is my dreaming
While you are pretty through the night
You may taste the salt that rolls off my cheekbone
But you don't know why I cry."

~Slow Motion
PHOX,PHOX

Tuesday, June 9, 2015

6/9/15



"And you're, you're the kind to hide your eyes from the sun
And in your world the strong survive
But won't you lay your body down
Yes and now, now's the time to wrap your ears around the sound
Of your train coming round
You'll have to lay everything down."

~Arms Like Boulders
The War on Drugs, Wagonwheel Blues

Tonight I get to see one of my favorite bands of 2014, The War on Drugs, perform here in town. I'm crossing my fingers for a setlist full of "Lost in the Dream." I will give myself a present if I don't break down in tears during "In Reverse." Or maybe, if I do, that will be a present of its own kind.

I am taking this day as an opportunity to revisit some of their older tracks, which carry much of the same aesthetic with less of the study. The story of how hard Adam Granduciel worked on this album for a year in and out of Philadelphia studios became intertwined with its own success, told and retold in celebratory reviews. Rightfully so, I'd say, as I like it when critics recognize and reaffirm the work that goes into creating something worthwhile. This album is full of shadows and light, woven together with seemingly off the cuff lyrical content, from daylight observations to silent musings alone in the dark. These are not words, or melodies, that try too hard. Patience is the key to this album's success-- it is also the biggest difference from past releases, and it is in this self-actualization and realization Granduciel found commercial success. A dream, indeed. 

It's easy to write, when you know how to. Writing well is another matter entirely. That takes a different kind of concentration and focus, one that's hyped up and hurried by intensity and insanity. I'm hoping to see some of that on display tonight. I need to see some of that on display tonight. I want that reminder of how working hard is worth it every time, trusting yourself is not a risk but a challenge, and while giving up is for losers, getting lost isn't losing at all. 

"And I don't mind you disappearing
When I know you can be found
When you livin' on the dark side of the street, damn?
We just livin' in the moment, making our past, losin' our grasp through the grand parade."

~In Reverse
The war on Drugs, Lost in the Dream



Friday, June 5, 2015

6/5/15


 
"So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go
'Cause I'm leavin' on a jet plane
Don't know when I'll be back again
Oh babe, I hate to go."

~Leaving on a Jet Plane
Eisley/John Denver

Beautiful song, beautiful interpretation. On replay now. Can't believe this is the first time I've heard it with a string section behind it. Let me reiterate how stunning I think Sherri DuPree Bemis is as a singer and human being. And, knowing the life she lives as a musician who is also married to one, I can only imagine the sentiment of goodbye and return with the one you love as so eloquently displayed in this song have a meaning near and dear to her heart. While there are not shortage of covers of this track, I am very glad to hear this one from this vantage point. Some songs, some sentiments, do not get old or tired no matter how many times you encounter them. Some just floor you every time.

Thursday, June 4, 2015

6/4/15



"Chancing, glancing, so enough mood for romancing
So love dawn can't you see
That you only gotta dance with me."

~Lowdown
My Morning Jacket, At Dawn 

Because friends are cool and summer tours are better, I get to see My Morning Jacket perform in a few hours. What an epic band they truly are, maintaining such a strong presence and popularity despite the labels they've encountered as a jam band for a decade and a half. While I am hardly heading into this concert as a superfan, I'm familiar enough with their aesthetic and discography to know my ears are in store for some fluid guitars, loud swells, classic-rock rhythms and the powerful high range and almost-twang of Jim James.

It's a fortunate coincidence I've been in classic rock and alt-country mode all week. My mind is on forests and trees and lakes and grasses and skies instead of the pavement and highways and sky-high structures around me daily. Summer calls for open-air getaways and I've yet to be able to escape. If I cannot be there myself, it is at least a comfort to run away to music that can make me feel just as pensive or reflective or carefree, or otherwise altogether chill. So many bands do it well but My Morning Jacket is one of the leaders of this tribe, with refreshing American rock that does not bother with the trends of the day, and instead relies on satisfying progressions and melodies, a healthy dose of harmonies and a dash of blues-rock soul. To last this long, in this era, requires timeless chops. How else could they make it 15 years?  This is not a band to be sad to, though they can be back, this is not a band to flaunt to, though I anticipate hispter fashion galore as I roll up in my work clothes.

Should be a treat - and an unexpected one at that. Obviously I hope they play "Bermuda Highway." That line about dreams and the crack of the bed and the wall is an unforgettable metaphor. But their latest LP, "The Watefall," is lush-lush-lush and a bit wordier than their older material, which I totally dig. Regardless of whether I am familiar with the songs or not, I'm looking forward to jaw-dropping guitar playing, and getting lost-lost-lost.



"There is only so many ways that one can
Look at a given situation
And I wish you all the love in this world and beyond."

~Get the Point
My Morning Jacket, Waterfall