M. Ward
30 Mar
M. Ward is releasing his new album, A Wasteland Companion, with Merge on April 10. The album was recorded with 18 musicians from bands like Oakley Hall, Devotchka, Sonic Youth, and Dr. Dog to name a few. Ms. Deschanel sings on a couple of tracks as well. Merge was gracious enough to send us the song “Primitive Girl” from the forthcoming album to share with you. “Primitive Girl” is in classic M. Ward form, although it’s a piano driven track with his guitar skills taking a back seat. The song moves along quickly, finishing well before you want it to. I guarantee at least two repeats. Check it out below, and make sure you get out to your favorite record store on April 10 to get yourself a copy.
M. Ward – Primitive Girl from A Wasteland Companion (2012)
Paul Young left a comment on my last 3hive entry — a Julie Doiron re-post — that said, “Yo JC! Paul Young wants to hear about the new Superchunk album.” While I don’t remember Paul speaking of himself in the third person while a student in my class, he is somewhat of a legend in the halls of a certain suburban Detroit public school. And so, it is with much pleasure that I comply with his wishes and dish up a track from what has been maybe the second most important band in my own life. Without Superchunk, I’d be a fraction of the poet I am, and way more boring too. So Paul, I’m glad you’re alive, and thanks for asking. “Misfits & Mistakes,” appropriately titled for both of us, I think, sounds like 1990 all over again, but instead of being the secret bonus track behind “Brand New Love,” it’s new. Leaves in the Gutter, an EP released this month, is the band’s first fresh spin since Paul was in 8th grade. So here you go; let me know what you think, and say hi to Laura for me.
â€Saws are tremendous pranksters, and the ruse of causing Human Beings to believe that they are actually playing them is perhaps the most beloved and persistent joke in Saw-kind’s long history.†That’s funny because when I think of saws, I usually think “sharp teeth†and “missing fingers.†Of course, I’ve never been intimately involved with a saw and, though I’ve heard melodies made from them, I believe this is the first time I’ve heard saws sing with no accompaniment. Julian Koster — he of The Music Tapes and Neutral Milk Hotel — coaxes from the saws a sound that is eerily placid. Yes, it’s shrill and not for everyone, but it’s quite lovely if you’re in a right merry frame of mind…and if you’re tired of the same-old holiday songs sung by pompous humans. The bewilderment comes roughly every three minutes or so as you realize, holy crap, you’re listening to an entire album of holiday standards played on a piece of actual hardware. But, as Koster notes, Jesus was a carpenter. Who knows—after a particularly stressful day of sermonizing and house framing, maybe the Son of God sat down with his saw, bow and a goblet of wine and conjured a soothing rendition of “Silent Night†to remind him of that fateful evening away in the manger.
I’ve already written about how Mac has been my personal shrink. Portastatic’s got a double disc of demos, singles, B-sides and covers — Ryan Adams, Galaxie 500, etc. — coming out in a week. Some Small History: sign me up!
Merge Records has this up-and-comer named Conor Oberst. Have you heard of him? He’s been in all sorts of bands or something. Now he’s releasing a self-titled album, which would make you think that it’s just him and a guitar but really he has this group called the Mystic Valley Band, which is a trip because it’s talking about the valley in Mexico where the album was recorded when you would think, from listening to “Danny Callahan,†that it was recorded in a not-so-mystic valley closer to Oberst’s hometown of Omaha, Nebraska. Much of the album has that same vibe: reflective roadhouse ballads with rousing instrumentation and lush lyricism. This Conor Oberst fella writes some decent songs. He might just have a future. You heard it here first.
In 2001, while I was living in Mark Eitzel’s hometown of San Francisco, I saw him play at the Great American Music Hall as part of the annual Noise Pop Festival. Eitzel is notoriously passionate about his music and stories abound about his being brought to tears by the memory of the songs he sings while he’s playing them. On this night, however, the spirit was more a mix of frustration and contrition. He was trying out new material and just couldn’t seem to hit the right notes. Plus, he’d been preceded to the stage by Bright Eyes and he seemed self-conscious and intimidated by Connor Oberst’s raw yet nearly flawless performance. Eitzel is a consummate musician, and on that night it seemed apparent that the old adage applied and he just didn’t want to have to follow Oberst’s act. Which was too bad, because many times I’ve seen Eitzel, both solo and with American Music Club, play warm, intimate sets that command your attention like the glow of a single candle in darkness. Likewise, the songs that American Music Club have made since reforming almost four years ago after a decade-long break are certainly older, wiser and more refined. But they’re hardly workmanlike — Eitzel and crew are much less concerned about what we all think, and we think it’s all the better as a result.
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