5/25/16

"Hey mother, hey hey mother

Why do you cry?
Tell me what the birds have said about my father.
Hey father, hey hey father
What do you know?
Lovers on the carousel won't ride forever."
~The Carousel

As Tall As Lions, Lafcadio

I re-discovered As Tall As Lions this week, a band I abandoned by the wayside probably about three years ago because it reminded me of times and places I'd rather not occupy my daily memory with, the times and places where I was a person that I was less proud of than the person I am today. But an errant tweet with their name and music in it made me nostalgic for their full and beautiful sound, their poignant and passionate takes and full-out busts. What a treat!

I gave both the self-titled and Lafcadio a Spotify whirl. Ten years ago I couldn't decide which album I like better and that has not changed! But I think I lean ever-so-slightly more toward Lafcadio, because it has a bit more of an edge to it. While the self-titled has the pure and polished beauty of songs like "Maybe I'm Just Tired," "Love, Love, Love" and "Milk and Honey," Lafcadio has the searing pain and unsatisfied longing of "The Carousel," "A Ghost In Drag" and "Acrobat," the song that maybe set the stage for their later work.

It has been a long time since I listened to these songs but I have not forgotten them. They have a richness and a depth that I hear in active bands I love like The Hotelier or The Wonder Years, but with a symphonic flair, like Foxing or The World is A Beautiful Place and I Am No Longer Afraid to Die. This band has so many incredible songs, well-formed with memorable hooks and bridges. I saw them once live, at Water Street in Rochester, and they were as locked in and harmonic as their recordings suggest.

And what about those recordings?! They're a little on the analog side, but I love love love that, these do not feel overprocessed or overproduced, and you can hear a ton of space and reverberations in the room. I love the heavy bass lines, the frequent use of silence underneath lead vocals between sections and the ever-occurring busts at the end of the song, where the band just locks in on a melody/theme and plays the shit out of it until a slow, careful resolve. They do this more than once, but it works, and it works well. I nearly cried hearing "Acrobat" again, as I'd forgotten just exactly how magical that build resolve can be.

It made me feel so good to hear these songs again, despite the fact Lafcadio is far from a happy record. Rather, it's about about the dangers and pains of love and attachment, the scary parts of what's supposed to beautiful, and it delivers this message with a melodic assault.

I wasn't surprised, when I rediscovered these songs, that they still sounded so full and beautiful. What surprised me most was seeing they had **a whole 'nother album** that passed me by, that they released in 2009. Somehow I missed this! I haven't listened to it yet, saving it for a long drive or long run or some other time when I feel like I can really hear it. I hope it's good. I bet it's good. Maybe if it was good, though, I would've stumbled across it by now? No matter. It won't erase how good their two most popular records are, records that I will always associate with times and places that, even if I would rather bury them in the past, resonate with the core of who I still am today.



"What if nothing is just that 

And suffering's the only thing we're good at?
Dreaming, picture that
a whole world in a slumber.
But don't get too attached to the living,

Even every single memory's fleeting.
That's a fact, being torn asunder.

But to my surprise, 

No reason why, 

One day I woke up and realized

Love love love love 

After some time it's something I find true 

Love love love love 

Love's not a grave, 

It won't decay on you 

Love love love love 

Too many days I was afraid of 

Your love, your love 

Give it to me,
love love love love. 

I'll keep you in my focus
with love and affection."

~Love, Love, Love

As Tall As Lions, As Tall As Lions

5/16/16

"It really breaks my heart
To see a dear old friend
Go down in the worn old place again
Do you know the sound
Of a closing door?
Have you heard that sound somewhere before?
Do you wonder if she knows you anymore?

I wrapped your love around me like a chain
But I never was afraid that it would die
You can dance in a hurricane
But only if you’re standing in the eye."

Brandi Carlile is one of those artists who I've still yet to really indulge in, but have a feeling I'd really like. This song, "The Eye," has been in my head since I found it on a Spotify playlist late last week, and I love love love it. Whether it's representative of most of her other songs, I can't say, but I can say I've never heard a song of hers that I didn't instantly gravitate toward, and that didn't stick in my head for days -- "The Things I Regret" is equally as powerful but on the uptempo side.

She's got a way with the hook- and in a catchy rock song, that's the part that you need to master. Her voice is strong and supple, and her guitar parts are folksy and melodic. There's a lot of layers here, but the pleasant kind, warm and inviting. Brandi doesn't sugar coat, though, and tackles these issues of dealing with life and love and oneself with some kind of passionate abandon; she's all about never giving up in the face of adversity but instead letting it make you more beautiful, more colorful somehow. And uses these powerful metaphors, about forces of love and war and the universe. Listening to "The Eye" makes me think about the tumultuous times in my life, however distant or recent in memory, and realize how I got through them by finding some sort of center, whether that center was my routine, my company or my discipline.

I was happily surprised tonight when, in going back to look for this song, I found this video with an uncut live performance with Brandi and two accompanying back-up vocalists with some sure and steady harmonies. While I thoroughly enjoyed the recorded version of this song, this video is proof: a good song is a good song is a good song, and needs little else but voices and an instrument to see it through. Purely performance. Simply stunning.

"I am a sturdy soul

And there ain't no shame
In lying down in the bed you've made
Can you fight the urge to run for another day?
You might make it further if you learn to stay.

I wrapped your love around me like a chain
But I never was afraid that it would die
You can dance in a hurricane
But only if you’re standing in the eye
You can dance in a hurricane
But only if you’re standing in the eye."

~The Eye

Brandi Carlile, The Firewatcher's Daughter

5/12/16

"Moving on
Is moving in slow motion
To keep the pain to a minimal
Weightless, only wait for a fall."
~How
Daughter, Not to Disappear

The ethereal elegance of Daughter is back and better than ever. I know that is a cliche thing to say, but it is true.

"Not to Disappear," their 2016 release, is one of the most smoothing, stunning and haunting collections I've heard in months. Not only is Elena Tonra an incredible vocalist, with a delicate and haunting soprano, but she writes these passionate, stirring lyrics, ones that are so very affected by emotional states of being. On "Not to Disappear," she tackles loneliness, aging, her own melancholic thoughts, and she does it in such a brash manner, unafraid of admitting her own failings and vulnerabilites without coming across as too apologetic for them. 

But on this record I hear so much more than Torna's thoughts and feelings, in a good way. The percussive echoes and delayed, climatic guitar parts prove a precise vision; the other musicians are not simply her backing band. As beautiful and moving as her poetic lyrics are in their own right, the choices made in regard to space and rhythm. Guitar breaks walk a line between atmospheric shoegaze and chord-contained punk rock, for the most part holding back aggression and letting it seep out around the edges. 

There's so many beautiful, moving moments here, the bust before the first verse in "How," the hypnotic hums filling out the outro of "Fossa," and the seemingly dance-inspired beats behind "Alone/With You." Daughter does an excellent job at blending genres and sounds, creating something that is not rock, is not folk, is not emo, but draws on all of the above. Mostly I think they just represent solid, inspired songwriting, showing what it means to take and idea and a motif and keeping coloring around them. Each of these songs feels like lungs holding too much air and hearts beating out of their chests, with a profound sense of tension and emotion. 

It's weird how songs that deal with madness and sadness and self-doubt and turmoil can be this stunning, in a way. Shouldn't those topics be uncomfortable? But I've always kind of believed that songs, like stories, don't say much of anything if they don't have a happening of some kind to speak of, and those happenings are often conflicts, either with lovers or the world or oneself. On "Not to Disappear," Daughter tackles all those relationships with a mature curiosity, and a reckless abandon, but holds onto their emotional, meditative, core.

"Chemically enlaced faces
Black out nights and tight spaces
We'll feel distant embraces
Scratching hands 'round my waist, yeah
I'll wash my mouth but still taste you

I feel numb
I feel numb in this kingdom
I feel numb
I feel numb in this kingdom
You better, you better, you better
You better make me
Me better, me better
You better make me better."

~Numbers 

Daughter, Not to Disappear

5/11/16

"Make me feel alive

Make me believe that I don't have to die

Fawn, doe, light snow

Spots on brown of white

make me believe that there's a God sometimes."
~Soft Animal
The Hotelier, Goodness

The Hotelier's "Home, Like No Place There Is" was one of 2014's biggest rock masterpieces, rocketing a relatively unknown band from Massachusetts into a scene-specific spotlight and elevating the bar for what little-bands-that-could can do. To me, it was one of the most original, emotional albums I'd heard in what felt like ages, something that ripped open my chest and found the most secret thoughts to expose in all their pathos on a stage. I can't think about my first spring and summer in Pittsburgh without thinking about the mournful chorale of "An Introduction to the Album," or the agonizing shame of "Your Deep Rest."

This year we get a new Hotelier LP. The songs released so far are nothing short of epic promises, hinting at an album that's slightly more optimistic but nonetheless emotionally motivated, full and relevant. "Goodness" is going to be good. Great, even. But until that arrives and I get the chance to memorize another 13 tracks of riveting self-reflection at the hands of Christian Holden, there's these two great singles to chew on (AND this fantastic cover of The Cure's "Doing the Unstuck").

It's hard for me to pin down just what it is that makes this band so good - is it the lyrics themselves, these strong metaphors and perfectly metered phrases sung in a soulful, stretching baritone? Is it the guitars, with distortion aplenty and moody, melodic chords? Maybe it's just talent. I can't say just what it is, but it's woven into "Piano Player" and its crashing, thrashing, peripatetic motion, and in "Soft Animal" yearning, pleading hooks. I'm so sold on this band, and I'm confident they won't fall into that same familiar pattern of a band who broke through and broke down. Songs this deep and rich will always find an audience. Songs this exploratory, this well-versed and composed, will always need to be written so they can be heard.

5/3/16

"Aligning stars that you wait for
Always know if you're holding back
Don't slow yourself down anymore

We watch the days fly
While all the years try
Telling us something
Don't waste a whole life
On just a half try
It's all or nothing."

~All Or Nothing 

Mutemath, Odd SOul

Whenever I tell people I'm into music, I have to do it somewhat sheepishly, bracing for what comes next. The natural follow-up question is usually some variant of "Well, who are your favorite artists?" and I think this is one of the most difficult questions to answer. My favorite today? My favorite who are active in this decade? My favorites from all-time? It all depends, and I cannot be asked to choose, out of fear of leaving out some great influence. Should it be favorite as defined as who you listen to the most in times of aimless soundtracking??

If we're going by the latter definition, I'd unquestionably have to say Mutemath, as well as recommend them to any listener of rock music who has not yet uncovered them. I've listened to this band for close to a decade now (dammit, time!!!) and have only grown more attached to and impressed by their sound. The newest LP "Vitals" is a significant addition to their discography, reaching the top five of the alternative and rock charts, meaning any music fan who pays attention to new, big and happening bands ought to have come across them in some manner by now. 

I've spent enough time with them to issue this decree: "Odd Soul" is their best record. It's the most eccentric. It's their most assertive. It's the record where they take risks as musicians, as a band and as writers, unafraid to be aggressive and loud and weird. It is a one-way, non-stop train to Groove City, no matter what kind of mood I'm in when I choose to play it.

When it debuted in 2011, I devoured it from start to finish, and it's never gotten old. It's never gotten tired, and the older I get, the more familiar its themes start to feel. It has an over-arching narrative of being yourself and pushing yourself to the limits, denying the doubts and scrubbing the haters from your mind, buoyed by the best drumming Darren King ever laid down and these proggy, spacey guitar riffs that just hammer on and on and on. From the off-beat senses of the intro into the discoesque "Prytania," through the moody melodic "Cavalries," this is an album where you can press play and let it go, riding it out until those gorgeous echoing synths closing "In No Time" fade out.

It's become one of my go-to pick-me-ups for when I am feeling down on myself, or when the general malaise of a workday or life sets in. Because those moments are going to happen, those feelings are going to be unavoidable in the constant reviewing conducted by the emotional mind, but they do not need to rule the day. Instead of running from what hurts, what lurks, what is dark, we can can explore and wonder about and even celebrate the odd soul. We all have one.



"I was once a son, now I'm on my own
Wade through everyone and I've got myself to show
The trials and tribulations seem to always track me down
I'll ride off into the sunset and try me another town

I'm an odd soul
Ah, yes an odd soul,
Walking side roads
'Cause that's the only way I know."

~Odd Soul 

Mutemath, Odd Soul