I haven’t decided if William Fitzsimmons is a bastard with an irritating beard, or the undiscovered perfect boyfriend I missed sitting in the back of my most boring college class. Perhaps he’s both, and maybe I dated his evil angelic twin. Joseph, the boy who knew he’d never fight with his true love; the artist who was so sure he’d leave his young family in the dark of night.
Fitzsimmons’ most recent album, “The Sparrow and the Crow†is about divorce. His divorce, but I’m certain any divorcee could glean some ah-ha from listening. Call it music to listen to once you’ve accepted what has happened, comfortable with it or not. With a Master’s Degree in mental health you have to hope he’s got solid ideas about the delicacy of marriage. The joy that aches.
If You Would Come Back Home is officially on repeat in my head, rarely interrupted for a week. It’s a nice sunshine melancholy soundtrack to the spectacularly mundane everyday stuff. He understands what took me so long to see, good writing is not about the fanciest words, it’s about the perfect arrangement of the most simple words.
(by our friend Emily M.)
A few years ago I went to a political fundraiser where it was decided everyone would more likely hand over their pennies if all the begging was disguised as a hoe down. BBQ beef on rolls as big as your head, piles of potato salad and hay. Bales and bales of hay. Cowboy boots on hundreds of people with too much money who’d never even seen a cow in real life.
I recall an interview with Robin Guthrie of Cocteau Twins many years ago where he said that in his head the music he wrote sounded like death metal. I get the same sense with King Loses Crown. While this San Francisco duo exercises their love of hooks and synthesizers analog and digital, somewhere in their heads perhaps their music sounds more like death metal than the electronic power-rock of their self-titled debut EP.
Rae Spoon is, according to the publicists, “one of the world’s only transgender country singers.” He’s also a clever songwriter and a bit of a wit, and really not all that country, at least on his most recent release, superioryouareinferior. This disc is a trip through musical styles, from lo-fi indie pop to mod folk. Drop a buck and download “If You Lose Your Horses” if you’re looking for a classic country track, or check out the album’s opener for an example of Spoon’s songwriting smarts — I never knew I wanted to write a song for the Great Lakes until I heard his. Oh, and if you’re looking for a record full of what it means to be a transgender country singer, you might want to keep on looking, because this isn’t it.
Mona and Anar were destined to make this music together. That’s the only explanation of how they can (seemingly) effortlessly create such beautiful, personal, intimate, and delicate music. Their second LP The Hot Summer is out now, again self-released; why there aren’t labels lining up to get their John Hancocks on the dotted line is beyond me.
L.A.’s Intricate Machines seem to find inspiration in their own name, taking an intricate approach in their creation of pop music. They don’t necessarily pay more attention to the details in their music than anyone else; that’s impossible to judge. It’s just that the details and textures on which they elaborate are less obvious than most. Really, it’s just my roundabout way of saying they have a roundabout way of getting to the hooks in their songs. Intricate Machines require time to soak, simmer, and settle. If you’re willing to give them that time you’ll find plenty of pleasures to sink your chops into. Considering the minute attention span of music consumers these days, Intricate Machines take a big risk attempting to break into the indie scene with less than immediate hooks. This ain’t no microwave meal; this is some slow-cooking, crock pot rock. You may have noticed I haven’t mentioned exactly what Intricate Machines sound like. This is deliberate. I don’t want to contribute to the instant-gratification impulse they’ve obviously worked hard to avoid. Enjoy the journey.
This makes me sick! (Well, the sick feeling probably comes from the dizzying bout of Neuritis I’ve been battling for the past week. Makes typing a bit tedious.) Peeved may be a better word. Either way, I can’t believe I let 2008 lapse without mentioning my favorite EP to come our way at the end of the year. Chicago’s Loyal Divide is at once cold and earthy, shoe-gazey and trip hop, Nine Inch Nails and Autolux, Laurie Anderson and Portishead. Your not so typical post-industrial-shoe-goth if you don’t mind me taking such liberties. “Labrador” is tethered to time as the track unwinds into a chugging locomotive pace, driven by Can’s tribal basslines, until ethereal vocals hauntingly give way to a languid narrative about a dog with “blackest eyes and softest mouth / she buried her bones behind the house / she grabbed a bird trying to steal my food / she squeezed its head until it cooed.” The vocals float along through punchy bass-lines and electronic tickings and tweets as everything but the bassline drop out, then rush back in. The Loyal Divide creates the most compellingly textured music I’ve heard from a new artist in some time.
Wintermitts is a quartet from Vancouver, that inexplicably chipper Canadian raintown that is lax on the doobie laws and serious about its pop music. Wintermitts is so serious that it features accordion and flute regularly and bring in horns, harmonica, melodica, and even glockenspiel for extra-special occasions. If that weren’t enough, they’re also serious conservationists — they gave away an Heirloom tomato seedling with their previous CD, aptly, Heirloom. But wait…there’s more. They sing in French sometimes, and sometimes is perfect because us monolinguists can enjoy how they make an octopus a symbol for true love (really, it’s not far-fetched at all once you know that octopi have three hearts) in English and then enjoy whatever blah blah blah they’re saying in French on tracks like “Petit Monstre.” Seriously, Lise Monique Oakley can be singing about emptying the litter box for all I know and I still want to grab her and say “Kiss me, mon amour!”
I love the way “Georgia” meanders its way into my consciousness. It opens in the middle of an off-the-cuff saxophone riff, then the low-end guitar joins in and finally the sweet, laid-back double vocals of Kim Talon beckon my full attention, and unlike Odysseus I’m fresh out of beeswax, so I can’t plug up my ears to avoid certain destruction. Or certain seduction in this case. There’s a bit of nostalgia at work for me with Eagle & Talon. I love Kim’s double-voice work like I loved Julie & Gretchen’s vocals in Mary’s Danish, although Eagle and Talon’s low-fi, earthy production and their stop/start rockin’ and slowin’ recall Sleater-Kinney’s red light, green light energy. Lyrically, Eagle and Talon cover all stages and consequences of desire, from the lead up in “Hot Caught” to the act in “One Lark;” then you’re living with the product of that desire from birth, “Georgia,” through high school, “Ice Life.” Eagle and Talon provide an alluring soundtrack to the entire cycle.