Autumn Albums, Part 2

This has been a bang-up fall for new music from my favorites. In Part 1, I looked at the latest from American veterans Hiss Golden Messenger, Beck, and Iron & Wine. This edition features two surprising returns to form and two strong albums from artists still early in their careers.

The Clientele - Music For The Age Of Miracles While there have been a few songs released since their last album, the infinitely autumnal Bonfires On The Heath from 2009, it seemed that circumstances were conspiring against us ever having a new full-length collection from The Clientele. I counted myself beyond lucky to have seen them twice in 2014, when they were celebrating the reissue of Suburban Light, their debut, but thought that might indeed be it. 

Then, a chance meeting between singer/songwriter/guitarist Alasdair MacLean and an old friend, Anthony Harmer, catalyzed the (yes) miraculous album now under discussion. Harmer plays the saz and the santur, a Middle Eastern lute and dulcimer respectively, and is also dab hand at pop arranging. He wound up producing the album, sprinkling his sparkling instruments here and there and helping to develop jewel-like settings for each song. There are are trumpets, strings, keyboards, and detailed vocal arrangements, all in service of some of MacLean’s best songs yet. Providing the perfect foundation, as always, are bassist James Hornsey and drummer Mark Keen, whose telepathic engagement with every contour of the songs is more remarkable than ever. 

Take Lunar Days, for example, where Keen’s drums tick along almost in a bossa nova style until the chorus, when subtle taps on the snare underscore each word and gently perturb the tempo, helping to emphasize the way the words “Holloways, lunar days,” seem to spill out of the preceding verse. Constellations Echo Lanes also goes through subtle changes that seem to arise organically from the flow of the words rather than just following verse/chorus/verse. There are many such detailed moments throughout Miracles and finding them is like following Ariadne’s golden thread to the heart of The Clientele’s genius. 

When I was first falling for The Clientele, around the time of their third album, I would often find myself ticking off their influences. But now I just hear The Clientele, as no one really sounds like them. That doesn’t mean they don’t push their own envelope a little, as on Everything You See Tonight Is Different From Itself, which features electronic beats programmed by Harmer, amidst Keen’s drums. Keen is also responsible for three charming instrumentals, which provide space for contemplation amidst the rainswept suburbia that is MacLean’s lyrical bailiwick. That’s not a dig, by the way, as a more literate and intelligent guide would be hard to imagine. For example, the Museum of Fog is a spoken word piece (like their classic Losing Haringey) that reads perfectly as a short story and for Falling Asleep he adapts verse from World War I poet Siegfried Sassoon, making lines about hounds and herons sound positively contemporary. 

As elaborate as the settings are on Miracles, a recent concert at the Bell House proved, yet again, that MacLean, Hornsey, and Keen are the heart of the band. All they need to create a whole world out of thin air is electric guitar arpeggios, gently meandering bass, precisely pulsing drums - and the comforting burr of MacLean’s vocals. It’s a remarkable conjuring to witness, and having new songs to play this time only injected more wonder into the night. From the smile on MacLean’s face as they brought album standout Everyone You Meet to a close that Sunday night, he agreed completely. Their U.S. tour has ended, but keep track of their activities - you never know when you might get a chance to see them.

Historian - Expanse I don’t want to be a jerk, but often when people DM me their music, it’s just not very good. So, when Chris Karman, (who records as Historian) sent me his debut album Shelf Life in 2013, it was a more than pleasant surprise. While somewhat unformed, especially in the vocal department, there was a spark of originality and craft to his melancholy songs that kept me listening. Somehow I missed his second album, Currents, which showed steady improvements on the way towards the excellence we find on Expanse. 

Led by Karmen’s stately keyboards and windswept guitar, the core of the band is tight and the strings of Quartetto Fantastico (which includes the brilliant Miguel Atwood-Ferguson) has elevated Historian’s sound into the realm of exquisite chamber pop. Karman’s singing, which reminds me a little of Mike Doughty, is more confident and compelling by several orders of magnitude. Each song creates its own atmospheric cloud of mood, matching the lyrics, which probe themes of existential import in enough detail that I wonder if the project should have been called Philosopher. But it’s more heartfelt than that would imply, and quite affecting. 

Although I could highlight songs like Here And Then, which is very catchy and nearly breezy, or Stars, which seems to create more mystery with each finely incised guitar riff, Expanse is a very consistent album and one which firmly plants Karman’s flag on today’s indie landscape as a talent with which to reckon. P.S. Currents is very nearly as good so you might as well save on shipping and order them both at once!

Michael Head & The Red Elastic Band - Adios Señor Pussycat I’m not going to recount Head’s storied past with bands like Pale Fountains, Shack, and The Strands (this article does a good job of that), but suffice to say that one of his albums is called The Magical World Of The Strands and more than lives up to its title. There’s also plenty of that magic on this new release, which is perhaps the most rapturously received album in Britain this year if my Twitter feed is to be believed. 

And why not? All the Brit-folk-rock touchstones are here, as is the spirit of The Byrds - far more strongly than on that snoozefest Tom Petty produced for ex-Byrd Chris Hillman. The sound of the album, all 12-string shimmer, swaying rhythms, perfect touches of strings and sax, and Head’s warm tenor, is nothing more than the sonic expression of a person seizing a second (or maybe a third) chance at life, fully in command of their talents and grateful for the opportunity. That means songs that flow with perfect inevitability and dole out hard-won wisdom and joyous sing-alongs in equal measure. On What's The Difference we even get a dose of Love steeped in the grandeur of Ennio Morricone - grandiose, yes, but it's great to see Head still taking chances. 

If Michael Head is a completely unfamiliar name to you, there is a 30-year wealth of great songwriting to imbibe. Start with Adios Señor Pussycat and work backwards - and sign up here so you don't miss the next 30 years. 

Warhaus - Warhaus Maarten Devoldere's first brilliant album as Warhaus was called We Fucked A Flame Into Being, after a DH Lawrence quote, and I guess he knew he couldn’t top it, hence going for the self-titled option. Or maybe he was just seeking more name recognition after the first album, which I included on my Top 20 for 2016, failed to set the world on fire.

That was the world’s loss, however, and one which will now be doubled if this second slab of louche Euro-cabaret-rock escapes the notice it deserves. Devoldere has perfected his gravelly, insouciant slur of a voice while bringing more clarity to his musical conception, which is spacious and dimensional, with plenty of air around each well-chosen instrument. Tuned drums or a brushed snare define the rhythm with upright bass as a dance partner, strings may hover above, or his trademark barking trombones might intrude with apt rudeness, as piano and guitar sketch out melodies. The last point should be emphasized as Devoldere's most surprising trait may be his uncanny ability to come up with great tunes and sweeping choruses. 

Many of the songs have familiar titles - Mad World, Dangerous, Bang Bang, Fall In Love With Me - but sound brand new, which may be his sly acknowledgment of the vast territory he wishes to occupy in the zeitgeist, or (more likely) a reflection of his warmer, more direct approach this time around. But while the music may go down with less spikiness than the first album, there are still plenty of barbs to be found in the lyrics. "You have a god to forgive you it's a privilege you have/You have a book that starts with a Bret Easton Ellis autograph/Bottles to empty and prescriptions to fill/And if no god will forgive you, baby, you know I will," he sings in Mad World with a combination of contempt and compassion. And there's probably no one else alive who could get away with this line from Well Well: "And if you want to get laid/In a fashionable way/I'll try to look like I understand/What you want from a man." Thank god for unreconstructed Europeans - never change, Maarten!

With these two Warhaus albums, Devoldere is carving out a unique spot in rock, but one with enough broad appeal to be less niche than it appears. If you're looking for something with the unfiltered edge of a Gauloise and the sensibility of a true devotee to the craft of songwriting, do not hesitate. And you can bet that if he ever ventures outside of Europe for a concert, I'll be first in line. I hope you'll be ready to join me.

To find cuts from these albums and others in similar veins follow AnEarful: Of Note In 2017 (Rock, Folk, Etc.) on Spotify.

Next time I'll return to the Record Roundup format to report on some eclectic electronica that's come out over the course of the year.

You may also enjoy:

Best of 2016: Reissues

Best of 15: Out Of The Past

Reflections After The Clientele

From Warhaus To Your House

Best Of 2016: The Top 20

Beam & Bridwell's AOR Utopia

Cover albums are rarely universally praised, except perhaps by music publishers looking to squeeze some new life from an old copyright. I remember having this argument with my father when David Bowie's Bertolt Brecht's Baal came out. Dad was an old-school Brechtian and thought Bowie put a little too much of himself into his interpretation of the German master's songs. I was (and still am) a dyed in the wool Bowie fanatic - although one raised on the Marc Blitzstein Threepenny Opera - and thought the Thin White Duke could have pushed his own personality further in his versions. 

Therein lie some of the pitfalls of covering songs. If they're familiar chestnuts, do we just want to be reminded of something we have loved? Or do we want to hear a radical new take that opens up new possibilities in old structures? Do we want to hear a classic retooled to fit a newer artist's style? Or do we want that new artist to demonstrate hitherto unknown aspects of their talent? And what about the idea of a current favorite bringing an old song to light, something that influenced them and deserves wider exposure?

This brings me to Sing Into My Mouth by Iron And Wine & Ben Bridwell, a covers album that manages in its 12 songs to touch on almost every issue mentioned above, triumphing in every situation. And for their troubles, Sam Beam (who is Iron And Wine) and Bridwell have received mostly terrible and even dismissive reviews. Some of that could be due to the casual flavor lent by the cover painting, which shows a bearded dude "speaking" a toast to be drunk with two beer bottles. Some of the reviewers seem to think that's how Beam & Bridwell made the album: cracked a couple of cold ones, tuned a couple of guitars, hit "record" and just sang whatever came to mind. 

I'm calling foul on that construct. This is an extremely well-conceived survey of songs from the last 50 or so years, demonstrating a wide array of interests on both Beam & Bridwell's parts. It's also gorgeously produced by Beam, with an overall acoustic-based warmth that allows for many individual touches to fulfill their vision of each song. My only issue with the album is that Beam is one of the most gifted singers of his generation, near the pinnacle of Robin Pecknold, Justin Vernon, and Hamilton Leithauser, while Bridwell, leader of Band Of Horses, is merely good. So while I prefer the the songs where Beam takes the lead, the dichotomy in no way interrupts the flow of the listening experience. 

In a certain way, they have pulled this mosaic of songs from various places and times and placed them all in an imagined utopia - that of 1970's Album Oriented Rock (AOR) radio. Keep in mind that this is done without a shred of irony. And why not? Staples of AOR were known for their solid song structures, masterful studio productions and universal lyrical themes. Beam & Bridwell succeed so completely at this at my wife is convinced she heard nearly all of these songs on the radio. In the case of the songs by John Cale, Marshall Tucker Band, Sade, J.J. Cale and Bonnie Raitt, this is certainly possible. Spiritualized? Not so much. I don't remember listening to the radio much in 2001 and I'm not even sure The Straight and the Narrow was released as a single in this country. 

Either way, that song is a great example of the pleasure and depth of Sing Into My Mouth. I've always felt that Jason Pierce of Spiritualized had some good instincts and ideas but nothing I've ever heard from them felt fully realized, partly due to his voice, a fairly thin instrument that rarely reaches the level of his ambitions for the grandiose songs he writes. Despite this, there is a huge well of affection for his band, making for dangerous waters into which the cover artist must wade. Beam and Bridwell brush all that aside, stripping away Pierce's grandeur to find this lovely song, which they rebuild with pedal steel, organ, a Nashville backbeat, and - crucially - Beam's background vocals, a rich arrangement that envelops Bridwell's everyman delivery without ever overwhelming him. While I might like their version better, I now have new appreciation for Jason Pierce's skills as a song classicist.

Talking Heads are even more of a sacred cow than Spiritualized (mostly for good reason) but what a relief to hear This Must Be The Place rescued from its slightly too chirpy 80's production! Beam & Bridwell have received much love for their take on that song, however even more of a revelation is the version they do of Bulletproof Heart by Sade. For all her success, she is slightly underrated as an artist - it all sounds so smooth - but she is the real deal as a songwriter. And Sam Beam is the real deal as a quiet storm soul singer. He could do a whole album of soul and R&B and I would wake up early to get on line to buy it. Unsurprisingly for the man who wrote Woman King, Beam has a special sensitivity to the female perspective, which he shows again on the intimate performance of Raitt's Anyday Woman included here. Bridwell also gets his chance to put some soul-power into his voice when they do Am I A Good Man, a much-sampled slice of sixties soul by Them Two that can stand a new airing.

God Knows (You Gotta Give To Get), originally by El Perro Del Mar, is another salvage operation. Erasing the memory of that band's irritating and mannered vocals, Beam & Bridwell sing this charming song without affectation while applying a brooding restraint with lots of original bits and pieces to the arrangement. In the case of David Gilmour's No Way Out Of Here they combine the best aspects of his recording and the one made by Unicorn to come up with maybe the definitive version, full of dynamics and banked fire. And if their version of Ronnie Lane's Done This One Before is a virtual xerox of the original, let it serve as a reminder of the continuing relevance of a neglected rock & roll savant. If a few people go and buy some Ronnie Lane albums after hearing it I'm sure no one will be happier than Sam Beam and Ben Bridwell. 

The album ends with a haunted re-imagining of Pete Seeger's Coyote, big as the desert sky, which wouldn't sound out of place on a Bon Iver album. Seeger was a towering figure for sure, and someone who imbued my childhood with song - but he never let you forget that he was teaching you how to sing the song while he sang it. The dangers of populism, I suppose. Beam & Bridwell sing it as if it arose from their blood and demanded release. Along with the rest of Sing Into My Mouth it's a stunning reminder of the elasticity of great songs, which sometimes have to hibernate for decades before reaching their true fulfillment, or at least to show off the further facets contained within them. Blow out the cobwebs of what you think this album, or these songs, should sound like and just listen - then drink a toast of your own to these brave young masters of song. 

Sing Into My Mouth is available on all streaming services and in all stores. To hear nearly all of the original songs, visit my playlist here: http://open.spotify.com/user/jshatan/playlist/2N2i78MbKdVdZeseU3Gpvw.

The Wilco Diaspora, Part 2: Tweedy & Son

When last we met the members of Wilco, nearly every member of the venerable band had released their own albums - everyone except for main singer and songwriter, Jeff Tweedy. Now his record is here, a double album called Sukierae, made in collaboration with his son Spencer under the name Tweedy. For years, Wilco watchers have been hearing about Spencer's drum prowess, and even hearing it on the last Mavis Staples album produced by Jeff, or on recordings by The Blisters, the OK indie rock band Spencer founded. But now we have the full parental endorsement, 20 songs, several of them featuring just father and son.

Let's get one thing out of the way: Spencer can play. Just 18 years old, he is a tuned-in, versatile rock drummer who easily handles anything his dad throws at him, from the punky blast of opening track Please Don't Let Me Be So Understood, to the tense art-rock of Diamond Light Pt. 1, or the chugging folk-rock of Low Key. It would be unfair to compare him to Glenn Kotche, Wilco's groundbreaking percussionist, but he's not missed in this context.

But as integral as Spencer is to Sukierae, make no mistake: Jeff is in the driver's seat, writing all the songs, singing, playing multiple instruments, producing, arranging and recording nearly everything at the Wilco loft in Chicago. The end result is as convincing a display of his casual mastery as we're likely to get. Despite sometimes sounding tossed off, almost all the songs resonate emotionally and contain well-turned hooks and tangy little touches that keep you coming back. I could see an argument for paring Sukierae down to a single disc, but if you listen in a sitting (try it, you might like it), there's an accretive effect of all the verses, choruses and bridges stacking up, seemingly generated from an unending fount of creativity. You might find yourself thinking American song is in a healthy place with this Tweedy guy.

His deep engagement with the history of his medium is reflected in that first song, with its jokey reference to the classic song sung by The Animals, Nina Simone, and so many others, and Hazel, the penultimate track, which calls back to an under-appreciated Dylan song of the same name from the Planet Waves album. Also, the sequencing of the record can't help but bring to mind the White Album, with its whipsaw shifts of mood and its variety of approaches. The sonic environment of Sukierae is more limited than the classic Beatles album, but Tweedy shows a lot of imagination in how he chooses to present each song.

Like The Beatles, Jeff Tweedy also knows when a little help can be useful, deploying Scott McCaughey (who played with R.E.M. for more than 15 years and currently heads The Baseball Project) on several tracks, mostly on piano, and calling in Jess Wolfe and Holly Laessig (who perform as Lucius) to sweeten things with their background vocals on nearly half the songs. I especially love their work on sardonic rocker I'll Sing It, where they channel a little of that Flo & Eddie sound from Electric Warrior. Their Lucius bandmate Dan Molad is also heard on two tracks, but credited differently for some reason. There are three songs with Jeff on his own, with Fake Fur Coat an excellent example of the genre of "strumming and picking folk songs with lyrics that blend the surreal with the quotidian." It is, after all, Dylan's world and we can hardly blame Jeff Tweedy for living in it.

Although the lyrics can be oblique at times, there is a general sense of vulnerability, and even fragility at times. Nobody likes to cry in front of their kids, but there is absolutely no sense that Jeff is holding back to protect Spencer. While Jeff has had his rock star troubles, it seems like things turned out pretty well on the home front, and that feeling of familial cohesion is one of the external delights of the album. It should also be mentioned that father and son share at least one of the emotional cruxes of the album: wife and mother Susan Tweedy's diagnosis of non-Hodgkin lymphoma, for which she is currently being treated. Sukierae (pronounced "sookee-ray") is one of her family nicknames, making the album partly a tribute to her - and it's one she and all the Tweedies can be proud of.

Coming soon: Wilco returns with two career-spanning collections, celebrating 20 years of excellence and exploration. The first, Alpha Mike Foxtrot, will be a box set of rarities and unreleased material, and the second, What's Your 20?, will feature that number of "essential" songs from their eight studio albums.

 

Make Time For Black Hours

Listen. It's a storyteller's trick, this command to lean in and pay attention - it may just now have worked on you, in fact - and one Hamilton Leithauser deploys with great effectiveness in 5 AM, the opening song from his brilliant debut solo album, Black Hours. "Listen...summer's coming," he intones to the accompaniment of piano and strings, "Slow down...don't chase crowds,'cause I'm right here." It's a mini-overture to both song and album in which he's literally instructing you how to engage with his music. Then the arrangement of strings and winds gains fervor along with his voice: "Do you ever wonder why I sing these love songs? When I have no love at all? Is the life you seek filled with senseless ease? Do you need someone just to cool your blood?" The rhythm section of upright bass and tambourine brings Kurt Weill to mind - but with lyrics by Faulkner and sung in a gleaming tenor to pierce your heart.

Of course, it's all a feint - "I'm right here," he sings, all the while he's constructing this lovelorn persona. Call him "Hamilton Leithauser" if you want to distinguish him from the actual person of the same name. Observed from the outside, Hamilton Leithauser (the real one) seems to be someone who values deep human ties and connections. After all, his wife, Anna Stumpf, sings on one track and has been on tour with Leithauser, playing keyboards and singing back up, while her brother, Nick, is the tour drummer. Paul Maroon, who co-produced and plays guitar on most of Black Hours, is, like Leithauser, an ex-member (or on "extreme hiatus" from) The Walkmen, the band they formed in 2000.

The Silent Orchestra picks up the pace, almost like a film's first scene after the credits. Leithauser's string arrangement has the sweep and pluck of an old Peggy Lee number, with piano and Marimba upping the bounciness. "When you get bored of your mind, come and find me," Leithauser sings, issuing the invitation with which all art summons us. The combination of the two-step beat with the dark and vaguely surreal lyrics is incredibly effective. This is a landmark song. As thrilling as it has been to hear Leithauser's development over the course of The Walkmen's catalog, he's taken another leap here.

The third song, Alexandra, is one of two produced by (and co-written with) Vampire Weekend's Rostam Batmanglij. It's shamelessly romantic, with a huge beat, wheezing harmonica, and Batmanglij's irrepressible backing vocals. Like their other collaboration, I Retired, it's one of the lighter tracks on Black Hours. In the movie I'm creating in my mind around the album, these two songs are performed by the character onscreen as he tries to get his life back on track.

11 O'Clock Friday Night returns us to the more subtle and complex sound of the first two songs and has quickly become an essential part of my musical life. Some compositions just entwine with your soul in an ineffable way, like they've always been there just waiting to be heard. Morgan Henderson, of Fleet Foxes outdoes himself here, playing bass, percussion and marimba. Both he and Richard Swift, who drums on most of the album, are as important to Black Hours as Leithauser and Maroon. That said, St. Mary's County finds Leithauser in full crooner mode, singing over piano and strings. As on the rest of the album, his phrasing is precise and original.

Self Pity begins with a ghostly sound that leads into a two-note riff, with Leithauser singing in a spooky high register. Halfway through, a near reggae beat is introduced along with a dub influence. It's entirely unexpected but feels completely inevitable. Writing a song with a turn like that is a sign of real skill, and one Leithauser pulls off on more than one occasion. I Retired does it, too, sliding into a woozy singalong that wouldn't be out of place if sung by Elvis Presley with The Jordanaires. It's just to the right side of jokey, and sensibly fades out.

I Don't Need Anyone has a patented Maroon guitar figure that any fan of The Walkmen will find familiar. Leithauser gives his all, powering over the strings and organ. "Don't know why I need you. I don't need anyone," he sings, a universal cry of the lonely person trying to put a brave face on their solitude. Even if you know Leithauser's wife is right there with him in the studio, singing back-up, you believe every sad word "Hamilton Leithauser" sings. Bless Your Heart stars out in a ruminative mood, pushed along by Morgan Henderson's bongos and Amber Coffman's dreamy vocals. Then the beat picks up in another one of Leithauser's crafty transitions, with the song gaining a epic fervor as he wails wordlessly. Another spellbinding song and one that will stay with you.

Unless you have the deluxe version of the album, The Smallest Splinter is the final song. It features an indelible melody and finds "Hamilton" seeking redemption ("Give me a kiss and tell me I'm alright) and forgiveness ("Show me the man who never disappoints"). It's a fitting end to Black Hours, completing a satisfying song-cycle and a strong argument for the album as a form. And yet...the vinyl release comes with an additional four songs on a one-sided 12" (also included in the tracks available for download in a variety of formats using the code provided). They're also available on iTunes and I strongly recommend that you make the investment one way or another.

These are in no way B-sides. All four songs are as strong as anything on Black Hours proper - in fact they may be more essential than the two Batmanglij songs. Not only do they occupy the same emotional territory, they expand the sonic palette a bit, whether via the the hymn-like horns of Waltz or the Neopolitan sweep of In Our Time (I'll Always Love You). The latter song also contains a hopeful ending to the movie in my mind: "Today is the day/That we're starting again/If I don't look the same/Well that's gotta be a good thing." Utrecht, however, finds "Hamilton" alone again, with just his acoustic guitar and a bed of strings, and the final final song states bleakly I'll Never Love Again. The story, if there is one, fills in a little here: "You liked your hollow world/I guess you're just that kind of girl/And now you'll never know why/ You were thrown to the dark/from the center of the spotlight," and finally: "Your songs may live on, but I don't sing'em." Credits roll, and the silenced audience files out of the theater.

Black Hours is the culmination of everything Leithauser has been working toward over the last few years, a vision of timeless, elemental singing and songwriting that harkens back to the past while remaining resolutely of the present. His work here vaults him to the highest rank of contemporary artists, and one with a bright future irregardless of what happens with The Walkmen. He can deliver this material live, as well, based on the short set I saw at the BAM Harvey Theater as part of WNYC's Radio Love Fest. The charming suavity he displayed with The Walkmen was still in full effect along with a coiled excitement about his new songs. The band was great and will likely get tighter with a little more time on the road. They'll have plenty of opportunity as he is touring extensively throughout the summer and fall, both on his own and opening for Spoon and Broken Bells.

And what of the othe members of The Walkmen besides Leithauser and Maroon? None of them are sitting on their hands. Revered drummer Matt Barrick is also a talented photographer and will surely have no trouble getting session work. Peter Matthew Bauer and Walter Martin, who shared bass and organ duties in the band, have new albums of their own out, with varying success. Martin's record, We're All Young Together, calls on a who's who of indie rock (Karen O, Nick Zinner, Matt Berninger, Alec Ounsworth) to put across songs supposedly for the whole family - to my ears it's a smug as a Laurie Berkner album, from the overly cute lyrics to the affectedly casual way he sings. Not for me. Bauer's Liberation!, however, is an appealing and slightly ramshackle affair, with hints of the folkier sides of The Rolling Stones and The Faces. His voice is very relatable, reminding me of Paul Westerberg at times, and the songs are sturdy and sometimes soaring. It's a solid, enjoyable album and seems to hint at more places to go for him.

The GOASTT Is Real

At this late date, I doubt that there is very much that surprises Yoko Ono. Yet there she was, on Soundcheck, expressing astonishment that Sean Lennon, music director of the reconstituted Plastic Ono Band, knew all of her and John's songs, "... all the intros and everything, note for note!" My immediate thought was: "Where have you been, lady?"

Sean has been a major part of my musical life since 1996 when Into The Sun came out. Not only did he play most of the instruments on the album, but he wrote songs alternately vulnerable and bluff - sometimes in the same song - showing an easy mastery of the loud-quiet-loud thing, and also incorporating sounds from Brazilian psych before it was fashionable. Into The Sun was a constant soundtrack that resonated emotionally with things I was experiencing at the time. I found it strange that some the critical community had a quite different reaction - that album still only has 2.5 stars on AMG.

Never mind those bollocks - I was a fan, and have remained one. In 2010, a few years after the supremely accomplished Friendly Fire (check out Headlights), he started a new project with his girlfriend Charlotte Kemp Muhl called The Ghost Of A Saber Toothed Tiger. Picking up on the softer side of French Ye Ye pop, the delicate (OK, precious) songs were a far cry from the blood-drenched songs on his earlier albums (Dead Meat, anyone?). But the two made such a charming pair that headed down to the South Street Seaport with my daughter to see them live.

Along with a loose crowd on the pier we witnessed the emergence of a duo with star power, and more importantly, musical power. They performed with a full band and if there had been a roof, they would have blown it off. The folks drinking their iced tea on the nearby terrace looked a bit startled. Thing was, the album they released consisted of acoustic demos. There was another collection that was at first only sold on tour but, while it featured the whole group, it had the distinctly tentative air of a rehearsal session.

So here I was blathering away to everyone about this vision in sound but I might as well have been trying to convince people that I actually saw a ghost. Mystical Weapons, Sean's aural action painting project with drummer Greg Saunier, which came out last year, helped my cause quite a bit. "That's Sean Lennon?" people asked when I played it. A few songs later: "Is that still Sean Lennon?"

Now we have Midnight Sun, the new album under the GOASTT moniker and the only word that came to me seconds after clicking play on the Soundcloud stream was: Finally. Now people will believe me, here's the full package of where Lennon is now - and it is a package deal as Charlotte is a full collaborator. She's a terrific, economical bass player, has a delightful voice and a mischievous quality that leavens some of Sean's darker impulses - but not all of them. The mighty impala-slaying riff that opens the record comes from her, as Sean revealed in a recent interview.

After Too Deep, we get Xanadu, a jaunty churn drenched in Chamberlin flute, and the trippy Animals, constituting a one-two-three punch combo that both the album and listener have to recover from slightly. Not everyone will be charmed by the slightly cutesy Johannesburg, although its richly detailed outro is a delight, ending with Charlotte's laughter. The sense of play continues with the title track, with its question mark of a riff that resolves into a killer chorus: "And I'm melting into the midnight sun/And I'm just another ordinary alien."

Last Call lands us on the dark side of the moon on swoops of slide guitar, but bounces into the light when Sean and Charlotte trade gnarly lines of singsong surrealism, before blasting off again via a Wurlitzer solo and an expansive workout by Sean on guitar. They also show their range by covering the classic Golden Earrings as a lysergic waltz - works perfectly.

My pick for second single would be Great Expectations, which shades into self-reference on the ascending winner of a chorus: "Great expectations/All eyes on you." It's an instant ear-worm, but he wisely doesn't overwork it. Poor Paul Getty tells the gruesome tale of that scion's kidnapping, keeping it light in contrast with the subject matter. Like Great Expectations, however, there's that resonance with Sean's own life. Not only has he dealt with critical skepticism but he knows first-hand what it's like to grow up with a target on your back.

Don't Look Back Orpheus is a concise telling of that ancient tale on a wonderfully labyrinthine melody, with Charlotte's percussion lending an air of ritual. Moth To A Flame is the perfect closer to the album, another Floydian voyage that takes off on waves of Sean's snarling electric lap steel. Like several songs, he plays most of the instruments, circling back to his early days as a developing studio virtuoso. He has helpers, however; besides Charlotte several songs feature Jared Samuel, another multi-instrumentalist that's also part of the touring band.

The album is self-produced and, although they call on old hands Dave Fridmann (mixing) and Greg Calbi (mastering), there's a distinctly handmade feel to Midnight Sun, including the book-like packaging featuring Sean and Charlotte's artwork. It's easy to imagine boxes of CD's and vinyl in the entryway to the New York brownstone that serves as headquarters for their label, Chimera. This only adds to the appeal of the album, confirming that this is no mere product, but music made by people driven to do it. Find your passion in theirs, in the land of the Midnight Sun.

The GOASTT is touring extensively this summer, opening for Beck as well as headlining. Expect no itinerary when they hit the stage...

 

A Chilly Welcome From Hospitality

Amber Papini in NYC

Amber Papini could probably order coffee with a cadence that would stick in your head for days. Though the singer from Hospitality is from Kansas City, MO, she has an unusual relationship to vowels and her consonants often have a crisp anglophonic sound. The end result is that the hooks in the band's perfectly composed songs have captivating little hooks of their own, but never in a self-consciously quirky way. She's never trying to be different - she just is. While she's a very talented musician, probably the best thing that could have happened to her was hooking up with Nathan Michel, a Berklee grad with a degree in electronic music (he's "obsessed with Stravinsky," apparently), whose training may help lend a compositional rigor to Hospitality's sound.

Their charming debut album from 2012 featured a highly detailed (some have called it Baroque) production that seems to not have been entirely of their choosing, as hinted at by the rawer sounds of The Drift and Monkey, two songs released later that year. Also, some of songs dated back to as far as 2007, before family issues sidelined Papini's career for a couple of years, so their concerns might not have been as up to the minute as they sounded, at least in relation to the lives of Papini and Michel and their bass-playing compatriot Brian Betancourt.

So now we have the follow-up, called Trouble, produced by Michel with Matt Boynton, and sounding like a sleeker take on the sound of The Drift. Nightingale opens the album with big chords and a tough riff from Papini's guitar that alternates with delicate cello-infused verses. The lyrics, rather than sounding like a plot-line from Girls (nothing wrong with that), delve poetically into that dark terrain where childhood tales mingle with adult realities. This theme is picked up in Going Out, with it's dress-up imagery ("Ruffled dresses and parasols") leading to our heroine walking home alone as the "rain rolls down/like an empty sound." The mood is leavened by some nifty handclaps and percussion as the song plays out. Betancourt's limber, melodic bass proves itself essential here, as it does throughout the album.

While Trouble still has some of the enveloping warmth of the first album, there's an intriguing chill at its core, like an icy stare from a friend you inadvertently offended. Even for all that, Hospitality's pop instincts are even more well-honed. Rockets And Jets toys with synth-pop and becomes more of a companion to my life with each listen. Like all great songs, you miss it when it ends. The bleakest moments on the album come in Last Words, also the longest track and one of two Papini co-wrote with Michel. "I took a boat to Eden," she sings in the second verse, "The priest was there to greet me on the sand/He led me to a gate/You enter once but never leave again/These brackish waves/Surround me and I have no exit." Pulling that blanket tighter yet?

Last Words leads into the stunning melancholy of Sunship, the other co-write, which has the largest ensemble on the record as the core trio is joined by trumpet, cello and flute. Like five other songs on Trouble, Papini calls on water, either from the sky or in the sea, in her evocative lyrics. These ancient tropes shore up the classicism of Hospitality's approach as, like Spoon, another great band on Merge Records, they seek not to reinvent the canon but to add to it. Also like Spoon, their 10 song album is concise but never feels slight. The last song, Call Me After, features Papini solo and feels entirely complete. If she ever does find herself alone - as her characters do in four of the songs on Trouble - you get the distinct idea she'll be fine. And there's your comfort, cold though it may be.

###

I took my daughter and her friend, both ninth graders, to see Hospitality at The Greene Space. As we waited to enter, a woman (who turned out to be Michel's mother - and Papini's mother-in-law) asked me if the girls were in the string quartet. I had no idea what she was talking about until we sat down and, after some remarks, Helga Davis introduced Pannonia, a string quartet made up of high school students from the Face The Music Program. In the collaborative spirit of the 2014 Ecstatic Music Festival, which was kicked off with this concert, Hospitality would be performing with the young musicians for part of the show.

Not surprisingly, it sounded terrific. As Michel remarked when asked about working with the quartet, "I think that Amber's songs can live in a lot of different worlds, and so it was actually a pretty natural translation from the rock band format." Even though he admitted to having little experience in arranging for strings, his adaptations of Rockets And Jets, Nightengale, and Sunship from Trouble, and Argonauts from the first album, flowed beautifully and captured the emotional tenor of each song perfectly. Pannonia also performed his first string quartet, Offshore (there's the ocean again), which was short and to the point and melodically redolent of classic American composers like Copland and Ives. The quartet played beautifully as well - obviously Face The Music is working wonders.

Hospitality finished the night with a short set as a band and while they didn't stretch out a lot, they did push some of the dissonant and abrasive leanings of Trouble slightly to the fore, while beefing up the older songs a bit. Besides his arranging skills, Michel is a triple-threat on stage, handling guitar, drums and keyboard with ease. Papini was assured on the keyboard as well and proved herself dynamic and occasionally explosive on guitar, while Betancourt wielded his Hofner bass with aplomb. They were aided by an unnamed drummer who stayed in the pocket and switched to keyboard as necessary. So, the "rock band format" was a success as well for Hospitality - no trouble at all.

Watch Hospitality and Pannonia at The Green Space below and keep an eye out for them in your town.

Breton: Expanded Parameters

On Breton's second album, War Room Stories, the brief - electronic sounds and organic instruments combined, vocals alternately soulful, anthemic or quietly enraged, found sounds, dance rhythms - is maintained, but the parameters are expanded significantly. Listened back to back with their debut, Other People's Problems from 2012, the leap in sophistication of both songwriting and production is striking. One main difference between that album and this one is that they worked mainly in Berlin, out of their usual London haunts. Also, singer/guitarist Roman Rappak composed and arranged orchestral parts for five songs, which were then recorded by a 44 piece orchestra in Macedonia, an ambitious plan that is executed with perfect assurance.

The first song, Envy, is further evidence of their widened scope, as it is very nearly a sunny pop song, a fact that will likely surprise those who think they have Breton pegged. There are even steel drums, coming on like rare sunshine in the alleys of Brixton. "Cos you're a tourist/There's nothing wrong with that," Rappak sings, almost tossing off the words, "What you never could've noticed/Is how your bags were packed." Of course, it's never that easy: "It's how the odds were stacked against you/You're only here as long as they rented it to you." The song also has a tricky prog underpinning that keeps you on your toes while demonstrating a new nimbleness to the rhythm section of Adam Ainger (drums) and Dan McIlvenny (bass).

Envy leads into the darker realms of S Four, all ticking rhythm box beats and pizzicato strings until Ainger's drums kick in and the song finds its footing, eventually arriving at an epic sweep courtesy that Macedonian orchestra. Legs & Arms also has plenty of sweep, along with a stomping swagger slightly reminiscent of Edward The Confessor from the debut. Rappak's vocals are processed to a thin stream of static, and the lyrics are slightly threatening: "I've found a way of walking without sound/What scrapes the skin/I'll weigh you up/I'll weigh you in." Somehow in this forbidding atmosphere Breton manage to inject hooks by way of Ian Patterson's keyboard line or in the background vocals, further signs of their expertise in building a track.

Got Well Soon was the first track leaked from the album in late 2013, it's doomy synths a perfect accompaniment for the grimly hopeful video created by the band. The little film tells the tale of a suicidal teen rescued by a would-be home invader, a pointed example of how some of the most important connections in life have randomness in their DNA. Speaking of DNA, the song has antecedents in the chattering keyboards of Talking Heads and the witty swing of Dennis Davis's drumming on Bowie's Fashion - good bones indeed.

The Macedonians - conducted by a man named Igor, apparently - return in the reflective Closed Category, its refrain of "Stay poor, spend more," undercutting the lush orchestration. National Grid's fleet rhythms and driving bass are surrounded by clouds of synths and the insinuating tone Rappak adopts to sing "Well we haven't got a school and we haven't got a name/And they're struggling to count us now," lends a further edge to the post-apocalyptic atmosphere. The two-tone police siren that ends National Grid provides a direct bridge to Search Party, which seems to take place in the same burned-out civilization. This time, the the air of casual violence is leavened by the strings, and the tolling bells in the fade out brighten the mood as well. Maybe there is "hope for us," to quote the chorus of Breton's terrific 2012 single, Population Density.

302 Watchtowers is sadly lyrical and may well be the most sheerly beautiful song on War Room Stories, with gradually accreting layers of electronics and vocals. Brothers starts off similarly, and just when the album seems to be miring down slightly, it takes another turn toward dance-pop. Between the percussion, the vocal effects and the catchy chorus, remixers are going to have a field day - as they often do with Breton's music.

The album ends with 15 Minutes From Now, which alternates static moments with the band at full gallop, strings soaring overhead, in an optimistic show of strength. The ultimate message of the song, and War Room Stories as a whole, maybe boiled down to "if we all stick together we'll be alright," but it's Breton's clear-eyed acknowledgment of the complexities of sticking together that lends teeth to their worldview. Most humans have no doubt that they need a society of others to survive and perpetuate the race, yet that doesn't stop a notable proportion of our planet's inhabitants from stabbing their kin in the back in some fashion or another. Perhaps another version of the message would be "accept dependence but be wary." And the way the album ends with 30 seconds of mechanical noise - film running out of a projector? a ventilation system struggling to function? - somehow conveys the idea that these War Room Stories are far from over.

The album comes out digitally on 2/4 and physically on 2/11, and their North American tour begins in Dallas on March 16th, touching down at Glasslands in Brooklyn on May 16th. If all goes as usual, the show will feature visuals edited live by Ryan McClarnon. Breton sell out to 1,000's in Europe - catch them in an intimate venue while you can.

 

Ambition: Not A Four-Letter Word

Sometimes it seems that ambition is a dirty word, a way to damn with faint praise and an acknowledgment that an artist's ideas have exceeded his or her talent. Four recent albums, all among the best of the year, put the lie to that construct.

Jonathan Wilson - Fanfare His last album, Gentle Spirit, was my dark horse (George Harrison reference purely intentional) of 2011, spotted by chance on a crowd-sourced Spotify playlist started by the late, lamented Word magazine and taking a firm place in my top ten. Gentle Spirit was located at a Laurel Canyon intersection of Pink Floyd and Gram Parsons and featured Wilson's virtuosic guitar accompanied by his warm tenor and a band consisting mainly of himself. I played Gentle Spirit for many people and nearly everyone who heard it had their eyes closed and their head nodding by the third track, if not before - he brings the bliss.

Those with mainstream tastes and a tolerance for ham-handed lyrics probably know Wilson as the producer of Dawes, but his studio skills have been better employed by Father John Misty on 2012's brilliant Fear Fun and Jenny O.'s wonderful Automechanic, released earlier in this year. Somewhere in the midst of working on those records as well as putting his hand in Roy Harper's Man & Myth and touring extensively, Wilson has found the time to put together Fanfare, a sprawling double-vinyl length affair that finds him working with some of the legends to whom his sound pays homage.

Even with the guests, there is no mistaking that this is Wilson's album. You gotta wonder what David Crosby and Graham Nash thought when he brought them to sing on Cecil Taylor (who's "on the White House lawn," apparently) after laying down tracks for guitars, bass, piano, Hammond organ, drums and percussion. I suppose they've seen it all by now and, after all, he did have to get someone else to play the flugelhorn! Just as on Gentle Spirit, however, all of this one-man-band stuff is no stunt, but is in service of Wilson's rich songs and the evocative sound he's after. If you didn't read the credits, you would assume each song was recorded by a group of simpatico virtuosos sitting in a circle and making beautiful music together.

Fanfare is definitely on a grander scale than Gentle Spirit, with episodic compositions that take the listener on dynamic journeys to inner space. He also adds a few new textures to his palette, as on Love To Love, which mingles sprightly Yoakam-esque country with Dylan and some dark, jazzy chords in a way that surprises even after the first hearing. Actually, there are several moments that astonish repeatedly: Benmont Tench's rhapsodic piano solo on Moses Pain, Wilson's hair-raising harmony vocals on Her Hair Is Growing Long, the expansive guitars of Dear Friend, the tough, funky breakdown in Lovestrong, among others. Speaking of tough, among the exploratory (OK, slightly hippy dippy) lyrics, Lovestrong features the wonderfully nasty line, "Coyote would chew off his own paw to get out of what you've tried to achieve, lady." I can hear that idiot wind blowing...

Mixing bitterness with optimism was also a specialty of the latter day edition of The Sopwith Camel, who were relics of sixties San Francisco (their hit was the regrettable Hello, Hello), when they reformed to record a second album in the early 70's. Wilson resurrects Fazon from that album here, perfecting their proto jazz-funk investigation into alternative housing ("Who's gonna live in all those cities underground?") with respect and depth. You don't have to move underground to enjoy Fanfare, just turn off the shuffle play and allow yourself to be transported. Wilson will be touring extensively in 2014 - get there.

The Darcys - Warring Speaking of ambition, how about attempting a full-album cover of the top-selling record by one of the most complex and technically assured bands of all time? That's exactly what Toronto band The Darcys did when they released their take on Steely Dan's Aja in early 2012. It was a complete success, mining the rich vein of darkness hidden in Becker and Fagen's slick studio funk. It was also a great introduction to The Darcys sound, which features Michael le Riche and Jason Couse's heavily treated guitars and keyboards, Dave Hurlow's stabbing, aggressive bass, and Wes Marskell's alternately busy and spacious drums. Couse is also the singer, often exploring his upper range to soar above the band's driving soundscapes.

Warring, their third record with the current line up, is the most complete expression of their art and ethos yet. No longer marred by the somewhat murky sound and slightly directionless songwriting that characterized the self-titled debut, The Darcys freely explore dub-infused space and unleash melodic and memorable choruses while delivering a set of songs filled with variety and dynamics. Couse's singing is more confident than ever and instead of Steely Dan's bleak LA tales, he draws on Cormac McCarthy's even bleaker Blood Meridian for lyrical inspiration.

The strongest cut may be the last, Lost Dogfights, which takes the tempo of a dead man walking, expressed mainly by Marskell's brick-hard drums. Hurlow's bass plays more space than notes, and a piano ostinato repeats like a recurrent nightmare that doesn't end when you wake up. There are also ghostly vocal harmonies and spidery guitar and synth, all adding up to a place of despairing beauty. Like McCarthy's gimlet-eyed vision of the west, it's a place you'll want to visit often.

Son Lux - Lanterns Ryan Lott, who releases music under the name Son Lux, seemed to come out of nowhere in 2008 when he released his debut, At War With Walls & Mazes. It was a fascinating song cycle that drew on his skills as a trained composer and on his love for contemporary production techniques as used in the realms of hip hop and electronic music. It was alternately thorny and contemplative and his passion for breaking barriers between genres - and people in general - came through loud and clear. It made a lot of top ten lists, including my own.

The follow up, recorded during a 28 day period as part of the RPM project, did not work for me at all. The elements were in place but the songs on We Are Rising seemed enervated, devoid of all forward motion. As much as I tried to like it, listening to it never ceased to be a chore. Now comes Lanterns, a rhapsodic collection that may be his best yet. The sonics are his most accomplished and innovative, with a joyful energy to many of the songs. Lost It To Trying and No Crimes are splashy and fun, the real "artpop" (sorry Gaga), while sparer tracks like Easy and Pyre seem to construct and deconstruct before your very ears.

While Son Lux occupies some of the same space as Dirty Projectors and Tuneyards, Lott deploys his talents with none of their arch condescension, a quality which makes listening to those critical darlings impossible for me. Nonetheless, fans of those bands and anyone who gets excited by the collision of compositional intelligence, production chops and savvy songwriting should let their musical universe be brightened by Lanterns.

Isadora - EP Since we're discussing artful and ambitious releases, allow me to introduce you to Isadora, whose debut came out near the beginning of the year. I discovered them when they were on the bill with Napoleon (who I discovered at the Mystical Weapons show earlier in 2013). Of course, I investigated Isadora before the show to see if I should plan to stay for their set. I knew within a minute or two of the first song, that I wouldn't want to miss them. While their debts (to Radiohead and The Beatles, among others) are clear, they have more than enough of their own personality to make their EP one of the most promising debuts of the year.

Over the course of the EP, they demonstrate a sure hand at crafting complex songs full of organic tempo changes and dynamic shifts in volume and tone. There's an experiential quality to their music, where by the end of each song you feel like you've been through something. This is even more apparent in concert, where they push the dynamics to the limit, but the crystal clear recording doesn't sacrifice the sense of spontaneity and interaction that helps their music achieve liftoff.

The five members of Isadora are all excellent musicians, with Nick Burleigh an important double threat on both guitar and violin, Joshua Rouah mainly playing atmospheric keyboards but also guitar on occasion, Ian Mellencamp melodic but not groove-averse on bass, and Jesse Bilotta knowing just when to ratchet up on the drums and when to lay back. Aaron Mendelsohn's vocals show a lot of range and flexibility, going from a reflective croon to a biting intensity as the song demands. Together, the music they make is incredibly satisfying. Get the EP now and keep an ear out for more from Isadora in the future.

Coming Next: But of course - The Best of 2013 and The Best of The Rest of 2013. 

Repaving The Way To A Fantastic Fall

Others have probably pointed out that not everything Justin Vernon touches turns to gold, but he's had such a charmed career since his Bon Iver debut in 2007 that I think it bears restating. Just a few months ago, in fact, he met up with a couple of old cronies who perform occasionally as The Shouting Matches and released Grownass Man, about 40 minutes of pointless blues rock. Maybe it was fun at the time, but he should have left it in the garage or released it for free. While The Shouting Marches is certainly the least interesting of Vernon's many side projects, others such as Gayngs and Volcano Choir have been hit or miss affairs. The one Gayngs album was almost one long 10cc-inspired inside joke (to be expected with the regrettable inclusion of horrid Har Mar Superstar), while the first Volcano Choir album, Unmap, alternated between classic Vernon and self-indulgence.

While I enjoyed Unmap, it didn't live on my iPod for very long, unlike both Bon Iver albums (and the Blood Bank EP), which remain there to this day. It was starting to seem as though, aside from his spectacular contributions to Kanye West songs, Vernon's best work was always going to be as Bon Iver. But now all that's changed, with the release of Repave, the second Volcano Choir album. While it's still a collaborative effort, with the six members listed in alphabetical order, the sense that we're getting the full Vernon is evident from the opening track Tiderays. Introduced by an organ drone and a circular acoustic guitar figure, Vernon's voice enters loud and clear and cuts straight to your heart. The lyrics are occasionally oblique but also descriptive and relatable: "You wake up/Soft denim on the floor/Spent nights last sleeping like two fours." Tiderays builds up to a rousing finale that feels completely organic, which may be a good word to describe the whole album. While there are startling moments, like the processed vocals in Comrade, nothing feels forced, as Unmap often did.

It helps that Comrade features a towering performance from Vernon, with his falsetto sounding more assured than ever, along with a new toughness in the lyrics, which may be a result of all that time spent in the company of Kanye and Pusha-T. The fourth song, Byegone, features a massive ascending guitar riff that should be on the radio and will surely be transcendent in concert, along with the "Set sail!!!!" refrain. While its lyrics are nearly incomprehensible wordplay, the brilliant arrangement and passionate vocals communicate very directly. The same can be said for Alaskans, with it's spare instrumental backing and its crystal-clear note of regret and loss.

Keel is another stunning falsetto outpouring, with its outré poetics coming to a focal point at the heartbreak of "Just stay here/Stay here just loving me/or just STOP bloody loving me." The album closer, Almanac, has a stomping beat when the drums come in, and goes out in an anthemic haze of stately guitar and vocal susurrations, ending a perfectly sequenced and soul-satisfying album. Follow @VolcanoChoir on Twitter and Instagram. Also, try to catch them on tour. Having seen Bon Iver in the past, I can safely say that Vernon is one of the great performers of our day - he gives his all, every song.

Repave is merely one album that, along with the masterful Hesitation Marks from Nine Inch Nails and the slyly groovy AM by Arctic Monkeys, is leading the way to what is shaping up to be a spectacular series of fall releases. Here are just a few that I'm looking forward to.

Jonathan Wilson - Fanfare: Following up 2011's wondrous Gentle Spirit, genius producer, guitarist, songwriter and singer Wilson is expanding his sound with legendary guests like Graham Nash, David Crosby, and Roy Harper, along with Pat Sansone of Wilco, Father John Misty and others. Get tantalized with Dear Friend.

The Darcy's - Warring: These moody Toronto-based art rockers got my attention with their pitch black full-album cover of Steely Dan's Aja, but their self-titled debut proved they have a number of arrows in their quiver. Warring should only further establish their great sound. Take a trip on The River.


Juana Molina - Wed 21: It's been nearly five years since we were last mesmerized by this former TV star from Argentina. I am more than ready to get obsessed again. Here's Eras to start the induction process.


Jonwayne - Rap Album One: A series of mixtapes, the last three on cassette, has established this Bay Area rapper-producer as someone to watch. And based on Reflection, he's playing for keeps on his debut album.


Matthew E. White - Big Inner: Outer Face Edition: Like the slow-burning songs within, White's first album has taken its sweet time getting properly noticed. Capitalizing on the growing interest, he will be putting out an expanded edition with five additional tracks. This is one case where I will feel no conflict buying the album all over again, if that's the only way to get the new songs. Have a taste of Hot, Hot, Hot and the others.

There have also been rumblings from the camp of Brooklyn titans TV On The Radio, with a new song from them and an upcoming release from Tunde Adebimpe's side-project, Higgins Waterproof Black Magic Band.

Whatever else comes down the pike between now and the first snowflakes, a musically memorable autumn is a certainty. What new releases are you anticipating?

Great Expectations

The more rapturous the reception to an album, the more devoted the fans for a band, the greater the expectations for any subsequent release. Here are four recent releases that were confronted with this obstacle.

The Strokes - Comedown Machine After a brief period of incomprehension, I fell head over heels for Angles, the last album from the former saviors of NYC rock - in fact, it's now my favorite of theirs after Is This It?, their instant-classic debut. The energy, the intricate but not dispassionate guitars, the precise work of the rhythm section, the heart-on-sleeve vocals of Julian Casablancas, and the overall mixture of gloss and scuzz made for a thrilling listen. Many complained about the band's supposed 80's fixation on Angles, but while the the sonics of the late new wave era were evident, The Strokes use of sophisticated chord sequences and counterpoint-riddled melodies make for a far deeper musical experience than that surface would suggest.

So my expectations were high for Comedown Machine, not because I'm still desperately waiting for Is This It? Or Angles redux, but because I just wanted another great album, no matter what it sounded like. And Comedown Machine delivers, and at almost as consistently a high level as Angles. It has a similar combination of ballsy rockers and keyboard-heavy songs, and features about as many of complex arrangements and clever production details, not to mention jaw-dropping guitar solos from Nick Valensi. Like Angles, it's a very witty album with a great sense of fun. While there have been hints of a tortured process in the studio and tensions between band members, if they were giving any interviews they might suggest that their fans lighten up.

Many have dismissed Comedown Machine and Angles as essentially Casablancas solo albums. The other guys must be bringing something to the table, however, as I found Phrazes For The Young, his actual solo album, an unsatisfying listen. Other complaints have centered around Casablancas's use of falsetto (which doesn't bother listeners of the wretched Passion Pit). While its true that the vocals on something like Chances make Casablancas sound lost and lonely, I take that as the feeling of the song not an incompetent vocal performance. As for comparing One Way Trigger, the first single, with A-Ha's Take On Me, it's the same issue of surface versus depth. While the Strokes take some of the spiky style and romantic sweep from the Norwegians, the melody is entirely different and the little rocket of a guitar interlude that starts at 1:30 could only come from Valensi and his six-string partner, Albert Hammond, Jr.

I'm not going to tell anyone what to like, but I hope people will give Comedown Machine (and Angles) a listen with an open mind, whether they're fans of The Strokes or not.

Iron & Wine - Ghost On Ghost Sam Beam's project is another case of early work being held so dear that any alteration in the formula is met with a sense of near betrayal. The fact is, Beam has been building on his original recipe of strummed nylon strings and hushed vocals for almost a decade now and his latest only continues that trajectory. One major difference between Ghost On Ghost and predecessors Kiss Each Other Clean and The Shepherd's Dog is the use of crack session musicians like Tony Garnier and Brian Blade. But this is no slick anonymous effort; the sound is lush, evocative, and completely distinctive. There are horns and strings, an increased (and sometimes raucous) jazz influence and always the sense that Beam is doing exactly what he wants to do.

Just like every other Iron & Wine record, all the sounds are in support of brilliantly crafted, enigmatic songs that demonstrate Beam's deep engagement with American and British folk traditions. When performed solo, these songs prove that Beam is developing one of the richest song catalogs of the current century. Even though there are moments of darkness and sorrow on Ghost On Ghost, overall the mood is lighter than the last album, which, while never surrendering completely, had a creeping bitterness similar to that evinced by Van Morrison on Hard Nose The Highway. While Beam's essential mellow-ness has always benefited from a slight edge, he sounds like he's in a good place on Ghost On Ghost and I'm happy to join him there.

Mount Kimbie - Cold Spring Fault Less Youth The first album by the duo of Dominic Maker and Kai Campos, Crooks & Lovers (2010), was one of the best electronic records of recent years, harking back to the IDM (Intelligent Dance Music) of the 90's delivered by artists like Aphex Twin and Autechre. In some ways it was almost chamber music, featuring pieces that were abstract and unconventionally structured. It wasn't hard to imagine something like Before I Move Off in the concert hall rather than the club. With so much electronic music becoming almost entirely beat-driven, Mount Kimbie was a bright spot.

They still are, but that brightness is slightly dimmed to my ears, as Cold Spring Fault Less Youth is a far more conventional record. While their command of texture and production remains firm, and this is a gorgeous sounding record with a great sense of color and space, these are mostly very definite songs instead of compositions. There are verses and choruses, more prominent vocals (with the stentorian King Krule on two tracks) and abounding 4/4 rhythms. While the end result is not a turn-off like when lovable eccentrics Efterklang went pop, I do find myself searching for more to get interested in while I'm listening. It might be that a series of deconstructive remixes will reveal the heart of these tracks - I'll be sure to keep my ears open.

John Fogerty - Wrote A Song For Everyone How many living legends still regularly stride across the rock'n'roll stage? It's a pretty short list but John Fogerty is definitely on it. As the leader of Creedence Clearwater Revival he helmed a band that put out seven albums in four years, with at least five of them being stone classics. As a songwriter, he duked it out with Lennon & McCartney for the top spot on the charts. Proud Mary alone has been covered over 100 times. He was also a dynamic performer who proved his ridiculous guitar chops on Creedence's last tour, when they played as a trio following the departure of genius rhythm guitarist Tom Fogerty. Fogerty plays both lead and rhythm with a command and fury that's hard to understand when just listening - I'd like to see video! 

In any case, by the time CCR atomized, Fogerty's place in the pantheon was assured. I grew up a fan and have remained one ever since. My wife can tell you that I was playing a tape I made of favorites when it was deeply unfashionable to do so. This new project has him working up new versions of some of his classics with a hand-picked cast of partners. It's been in the works for a while, and while my expectations were as low as mentions of the Foo Fighters and Kid Rock could make them, I wasn't prepared for the train wreck result. The worst thing is that many of Fogerty's own vocals are mannered and the guitar playing is completely pedestrian. The two new songs he eked out are filled with cliches. One, Mystic River, even has a bridge that takes enough from Black Water by the Doobie Brothers that it might be actionable. You'd think someone who was sued for plagiarizing his own songs - as wrong as that was - would strive to be more original.

As for the guests, is his taste really this bad? Besides the Foos & the Kid, he chooses to work with Jennifer Hudson, Zac Brown and mostly other mediocrities. How about Lucinda Williams, Wilco or Jonathan Wilson - artists who are on the same level? I'll say no more except if you love Creedence, NEVER listen to this album.

P.S. I'll let those who thought Daft Punk's Homework was really all that weigh in on whether their latest, Random Access Memories, is a culmination of what they stood for, or a rejection of those principles.