3/11/15

"Most of this life's been a drag of a high
And lows like a blow in a paid thrown title fight
Most of my sins were born in a kiss on a night like this
Calling all lonely hearts

Don't you want a life like we saw on the picture show?
So come on, give me something, come on, keep me up all night
 
You say, my baby, all this time in between drives me crazy
I want a life on fire, going mad with desire
I don't wanna survive, I want a wonderful life."
~A Wonderful Life
Brian Fallon, Painkillers

The new Brian Fallon solo record is out, and it's everything I wanted "Get Hurt" to be.

Seriously. He should've released this years ago. 

Without his full band but never lacking in layers, "Painkillers" plays like the most distilled version of Fallon we've heard yet. His  references are familiar - tombs, cars, pills, they're all here for the mixed metaphor party, and the chords are too. But I've still spent the whole day playing it over and over again, surrendering to the hooks of "Among Other Foolish Things" and "Rosemary" just like the tracks off "The '59 Sound" once hooked me.

To me, this collection is the result of a songwriter's efforts to define himself around the edges. His focus is still heartbreak in all its forms, and love in all its highs and lows. Most songs have a "been-there" attitude, run down and over it but still, somehow, crawling back for more. And while he tries some different things vocally, occasionally evoking Dylan in a throat-speak kind of way, nothing that he attempts is out of his range, or out of his zone, or out of his style. And as a result, the whole thing is really cohesive, and authentic, in ways that the more recent Gaslight Anthem records were lacking.

"Smoke," "Nobody Wins" and "Honey Magnolia" are instant standouts after I'd already played the lead single, "A Wonderful Life," to death over the past few weeks. The re-recordings of "Long Drives" and "Red Lights," originally Molly and the Zombies tracks, are welcome in their revival, with a lot more harmonies and clearer guitar interplay to match the rest of the record style.  The record is littered with heart crushing lines: "Last night I remembered being 17 / I met a girl with a taste for the world and whisky and rites of spring." As was the case with The Horrible Crowes, Fallon chooses to dress up his verse-verse-chorus-bridge-chorus sort of stucture with lots of fun auxiliary - a tambourine or piano is never far out of reach and "Painkillers" is all the more itneresting for it. In a lot of ways it feels like a return to his roots, and the Americana rock that built TGA's fanbase.

As catchy as the solos can be, the star of the show, as I would've expected, is Brian Fallon's exceptional capacity for self-reflective storylines. The best lines are when he's alone struggling with his demons, drowning in dreams and getting drunk on the look of a lover. These scenes are repeated time and time again in all his work, and I have to wonder if these are real people he knows, or just characters he's invented in their image. Maybe a little bit of both. I do not know if "Painkillers" will draw any new fans Fallon's way, but for the diehards, it is a welcome, familiar taste, a new spin on the same old imagery and a perfectly sad, sweet, stylized indulgence.

"But you said
I’m alright Baby I don’t mind
I’ll get on just fine
on them long long drives."
~Long Drive
Brian Fallon, Painkillers

3/4/16

"Right in front of me
Splitting you from me
Where do these cliffs come from
They keep on lining up
 
Can you hold out your hand
just a little bit further
I can feel your finger tips
if I just reach out a bit
 
Save me from myself
Save us from all the rest
Don't rest till you've saved enough
then you know you've passed the test"
 ~Surf and Turf
Minus the Bear, Lost Loves


I must never forget how good Minus the Bear records are.

Their 2014 release, the cleverly titled "Lost Loves," totally slipped by me until someone else's Instagram shot of "Highly Refined Pirates" made me realize I needed their groovy, funky gutiar parts and silky, sexy vocals as a Friday afternoon pick-me-up. Then I realized they had this album I never heard with these releases I haven't discovered yet -- "Lost Loves" is a collection of rarities and never-before-released cut tracks. Listening to it has solidified everything I knew I liked about this band and have for years - their bright and bold guitar parts, their intricate rhythms, and the upbeat-but-chill sound they pull off in this understated and cool-off manner.

This band reminds me of spending mornings by the beach and weekends by the coast, or late-night drives through cities in the search of debauchery, or even just its guise. A copy of 2010's "Omni" lives in the passenger side of my car, still in its original packing, and I'll reach for it from time to time when a drive needs to feel good. Minus the Bear is my kind of party band -- guitar playing at its fashionable finest, decadent imagery, and propulsive rhythms for days.

They made a name for themselves in the height of indie emo's popularity in the early 2000s, with the sultry hooks of "Menos el Oso," even though they never really represented that sound, and since then their vibe has only veered even further from the "the scene," favoring this brooding, full-bodied rock and roll.  The songs on "Lost Loves" exemplify this masterfully, as such a collection ought to -- from the thumping outro of "Broken China" to the echoing organs of "Cat Calls and Ill Means," and the brilliant fast-fingered soloing on "Invented Memory," these phrases and fills that are all feel, all atmosphere, produced with the kind of technique that shows off swagger through restraint.

Must remember to work them back into my rotation. More days could use this.

"Throw all the clocks out
Tell time by touch
Feel it fall through your fingers as it rains down on us"
~Invented Memory
Minus the Bear, Lost Loves
 

3/2/16

Seeing Jason Isbell perform for the second time tonight. I almost didn't buy tickets - stupid, I know! - in an attempt to be fiscally responsible and see if any freebies or friend offers came may way. But last night, with neither of those plausible chances coming to fruition, I made sure to secure myself a seat and I'll be there in six hours or so, on the third deck of the Benedum Center balcony, so I can hear the genius Isbell and beautiful Amanda Shires play the highlights.

There's a 110 percent chance I'm leaving in tears, the quiet, hot kind that you try to hide but can't stop because you'd rather feel through your emotion than lock it up for the sake of saving face. Something about his songs - both melodies and words - cuts to the quick of what moving songs are supposed to do. He can channel the heartfelt without overplaying its effect. He can evoke memories you never knew you had. Few artists in this wide open music scene have the literary way with words that has made Isbell's records such a classic --

"I'll throw rocks at your window from the street
And we'll call ourselves the flagship of the fleet."
~Flagship 
Jason Isbell, Something More Than Free

--not to mention the things he can do to a guitar, extending solos into mini-epics, playing each note a little clearer, a little truer, a little longer than the last. Hearing him for a couple hours tonight promises a respite from the rest of the world, just as it was last February, just as his albums from my speakers provide the most solid soundtrack, appealing to the better parts of my taste and humanity.

"It's a strange thing to write a love song," he said during a live session on WYEP today.

Strange, but beautiful.

2/23/16

"We spent some time
Together crying
Spent some time just trying
To let each other go

I held your hand so
Very tightly
And told you what I
Would be dreaming of

There's nothing like you and I
Nothing like you and I
There's nothing like you and I
So why do I even try?
There's nothing like you and I"
~Nothing Like You and I
The Perishers, Let There Be Morning

Some nights you have to give up on the promise of sleep. Too much in your head, or too much caffeine, or too many loud neighbors. The best remedy, I have learned, is to go with the awakeness -- don't fight it, you will only end up frustrated with yourself. It winds up being the perfect time to pull out the headphones and find some new music, or revisit old favorites lurking around, like The Perishers.

Oh, how I love this little song. Patient and delicate, space in the slow rhythms and lightness in the vocal melody. Warmth in the keys. Perfect for a mix CD, the kind with random one-off songs from random one-off artists. I love how it starts very simply, and builds to a harmony-filled key change, so together and polished in that Swede-pop way. I've been paying extra attention to band origins since reading the absolutely excellent "The Song Machine" by John Seabrook, and upon returning to this find from The Perishers, I realized their perfectly timed rhymes and uplifting chord choices are a pure product from their scene, the late 90s pop rock eruption, directly from its epicenter.

At the very least, it's a happier sound than the muffled grunge radio and hipster horns blaring from the apartment beneath me at this hour. At the very best, it's a daydream, when I should be sleeping, a reminder of the lightness that lies ahead once the sun comes back up and the world wakes up.

2/19/16

“If you feel down and you write that down, most of the time it is going to be a country song.” ~Billy Joe Shaver, songwriter

I keep Billy Joe Shaven's advice in my inbox. I like to look at it when I'm feeling stressed or tired or uninspired, or some combination of those. I like to remember how good it feels to purge whatever I'm feeling into music, even if it is with songs I can never remember on a guitar I can barely play for an audience that, despite their attentive ears, doesn't have much feedback to offer (because they are felines).

Every time I tell myself that *this* is the weekend I'll revisit some songs or *this* is the weekend I'll post a new video, it becomes so much easier to do anything but stay home and practice -- meeting up with friends, running, shopping, laundry, pretty much anything is preferable to indulging in my own creativity when, as much as I enjoy the feeling of playing music, it altogether feels like a selfish pursuit. But then I remember this quote, and all the others about how music can save souls and change lives and uplift the darkest of spirits. And then I think that yeah, maybe it is worthwhile to practice a little, even if it's for 10 minutes, or for 30 minutes, even if it's the same old songs I've always loved to play, or even if it's whatever nonsense I need to say.