Some 3hive history for you: Dan Snaith, a.k.a. Manitoba, was the inaugural posting to this site. Today Snaith announced that he was legally forced to change his nom de plume, hence Manitoba has been reincarnated as Caribou. I was hoping this announcement would coincide with a release date for his new album. No luck. Sounds like he’s only halfway finished. Sigh. Until then…
Dosh
This kid that lives seven houses down from me has this dope, super clean Cadillac. One sticker graces its rear window, dead center: Anticon. My neighborhood certainly isn’t a hotbed of fellow fine music admirerers (it’s more prone to Amway-esque consultants), so this discovery was a pleasant surprise. I’ll let him listen to my advance of Pure Trash if he lets me take my lady out in that ride of his.
Daniel Johnston
Where to begin? The liner notes to Johnston’s new retrospective/tribute pin the “Godfather of Lo-Fi” label on him. That’s a start. Name check the tribute and you’ll get a sense of the depth of Daniel Johnston’s influence: Beck, Bright Eyes, Mercury Rev, Sparklehorse, and Tom Waits. He began in the early eighties, committing simple, raw, gorgeous songs to tape (“Put My Love Out The Door”), via handheld recorder. While his production quality has improved over time, it’s never been at the expense of his primary craft, songwriting (George Lucas take note! The new Star Wars movies suck!) Daniel Johnston makes me wanna toss my computer out the window (gasp!) and never use a cell phone again. He’s proof, and hope, that the medium doesn’t have to be the message.
Elliott Smith
No explanation needed.
Palomar
Palomar make me hungry. They sing a song about my favorite cut of sushi. The song’s got so much zip it’s like getting a few, thin slices of jalapeÒo and a sprig of cilantro on your shiro maguro. If you tend towards the darker side of “pop-rock,” hit “The Planeiac.” It’s a more mature sound, no need for frills. Like the first time I walked into my neighborhood sushi bar. One look at this gaijin and they quickly said, “No rolls!” They meant business. Palomar mean business.
Lateduster
An all-star collective from the Minneapolis underground, featuring the chaps who record individually as/with Fog, Dosh, Hymie’s Basement, and Neotropic. Post-rock instrumentals with an improvisational jazz flair. These are early recordings, birthed before the debuts of Fog and Dosh. Merck’s re-releasing Easy Pieces this month, with new recordings and a tour to follow next year. This generation is lucky to have more “easy-listening” options than Windham Hill.
* For residents of the OC: join me Tuesday at the Apple store for a little presentation. Would love to meet any local 3hivers.
Travis Morrison
Travis Morrison, the artist formerly known as 25% of The Dismemberment Plan, drops his first solo record just a year after the demise of TDP. A glimpse into Travistan (the first three tracks offered here) reveals PETA-inspired pop, an eager, piano-driven morality play, and a sing-song memoir cluttered up with live studio audience effects and Defender(TM) samples. Lick off Ben Fold’s sugar-coating, but don’t go as dour as Elliott Smith, and you got Mr. Morrison here.
The Shifties
West Coast slowpop vibe via Windy City. The pace picks up by “Can’t Go On”: the verses spunky like “Kids in America” while the chorus jangles like something off Reckoning. A fun find from the suggestion box.
Dolour
I was first exposed to Made In Mexico Records when I came across Pedro The Lion‘s album It’s Hard To Find A Friend. Instantly I was a fan, with the band and the label. Made In Mexico seemed like the perfect indie label: wonderful bands and a simple, small, intimate vibe. The label eventually closed its doors and has remained dormant for almost five years, until now.
Singer/songwriter Damien Jurado, along with a couple friends and the blessing of the original owner, has resurrected Made In Mexico. Dolour is their first offering. Band leader, Shane Tutmarc, continues the Northwest’s too frequently slighted tradition of indie-pop craftsmen proving once again that sunny songs and cloudy skies are not mutually exclusive.
The Legends
A Stockholm band built on the whims of nine friends, many of whom had never even picked up an instrument before, with the simple desire of writing songs together. A study in desire, fuzzed out guitars, drive, and handclaps.