A funny thing happened while listening to Bibio’s exquisite, organic guitar arrangement: I accidentally opened it up in two browser windows and let both downloads play simultaneously…and it was beautiful. Rather than a clash more disconcerting than a skipping CD, the lilting loops — and here’s where I’m going to say something I try to never say about sound — danced with each other in perfect harmony. The great thing is that playing the track just one at a time is an equally calming, inspiring, uh, dance. If only there were more downloads to get us through the weekend.
Fairmont
Can’t tell if that fuzzy sound is a low bitrate or an honest-to-god garage band ethic from Jersey. Either way, fuzz sounds good today.
Magnolia Electric Company
Apparently there’s this guy named Jason Molina whose jangly voice and honky-tonk geetar owe a great debt to Neil Young and who had a band called songs: ohia. Apparently he renamed his band after one of the latter band’s album titles. And apparently the hazy barroom rock sounds as sweet as Tennessee bourbon whiskey on Magnolia Electric Company’s debut live release. If you’re wondering why all the parenthetical talk, it’s because Molina’s as new to me as he might (or might not) be to you. And apparently I’m kicking myself for not discovering him about five years ago.
Red Eyed Legends
Here’s a sure-fire invitation to hatemail: My world would be just fine without the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and other New York scenesters that would do your biology homework for you if you paid them enough but couldn’t share an unironic moment if the presidency of these United States depended on it. That’s why it’s entirely illogical for me to like this faux-Brit pinball dance of a song from Red Eyed Legends as much as I do. Maybe it’s their Midwestern roots that make their post-no wave head-jerking sound so free of pretense even though they’re trying so damned hard to be pretentious. If there’s any musical lesson to be learned from the recent election it’s that we New Yorkers are way out of touch — it’s the middle of America that shapes our collective conscious, so listen up.
Busdriver
Rapping about the rap lifestyle anymore comes off as uninspired straw-grasping. But when it’s rolling off Project Blowed crewman Busdriver’s tongue it sounds more like the demon spawn of Cornel West, H.L. Mencken, and Jon Stewart — and believe me, that would be some demon friggin’ spawn. In a genre full of cultural critics, Busdriver is the guy whose intelligent sarcasm almost always exceeds his peers yet is funky enough to let the masses in on the joke. I wouldn’t want to be holding the other microphone in a rap battle with this cat, but I’d sure want to be in the studio audience.
Carla Bozulich
After recent events left me feeling a little, shall we say, agitated, I went searching for some cynical sounds to get me through Wednesday. What I found gave meaning to my gritted teeth: the singularly powerful Carla Bozulich careening through a nine-minute version of one of the greatest protest songs ever written — not to mention one of Dylan’s best songs, period. When Wednesday gave way to a cold, rainy Thursday, “Lonesome Roads” and the fabulous Willie Nelson cover “Blue Eyes Cryin’ in the Rain” were just the nudge of strained melancholy I needed. Now that Friday’s here, the woman who channels Patsy Cline, Janis Joplin, Tom Waits (there’s even a Waits cover here) and something nobody had heard until she wailed for herself, should help you make it through a long, lonely weekend. I know she’ll help me.
(P.S. There’s plenty more on her website from her many side projects — if you have the bandwidth, it’s worth your time.)
Landing
Landing’s music-as-ripples-in-a-pond swirls in and out of focus around a riffless guitar and the spaciest of keyboard calls. It’s horribly out of vogue in these times of ballsy beats, retro-rock posturing, and other fashionable music movements. But Marshall McLuhan dubbed the persistence of fashion “The Bore War,” and I’m guessing that if he were around today he wouldn’t be bored at all by these sweet ambient sounds.
Chin Up Chin Up
“We Should Have Never Lived Like We Were Skyscrapers” is one of those cleverer-than-thou song titles that’s long, pretentious, and altogether undeserving of seriousness. Yet it’s full of chaotic meaning, the kind indie musicians strive for and then deny striving for just to keep their ambivalent cred. It’s pretty much perfect for the song itself: a burbling rush to nowhere that comes across as a math-rocky Polyphonic Spree. When I read back over that description I feel like I should hate the band, but I don’t. In fact, I think I love those crazy skyscrapers.
Walking Concert
Those who were ushered into junior high by Gorilla Biscuits, into college by Quicksand, and into adulthood by Rival Schools are all too familiar with what Walter Schreifels can do with an aggressively tuned guitar and a chest full of angst. The blister-hooks of those past efforts still make an appearance here and there in his latest band (also featuring a journeyman from Salt Lake City and a freelance underwear designer — viva la difference!), but Walking Concert showcases Schreifels expanding his horizons into areas more melodic and, dare I say it, quietly retrospective. He�s grown up, and growing up still sounds just right.
The Black Keys
The two-man jam might make you think of the White Stripes and the name doesn’t do anything to discourage the comparison. So you might as well just go with the roadhouse flow and enjoy some new and old from the duo with the reverb to shake your favorite parts and the quiet side to make you wanna kiss somebody sloppy.