Electronic, acoustic, classical, it all goes together to create beautiful music. Letting Up Despite Great Faults create music from the heart, ignoring formulas and expectations, letting their freedom and creativity flow. There are no great faults, and hopefully no letting up.
Walter Meego
No one in Walter Meego is named Walter. Ironically, the 3hive reader who tipped us off to Walter Meego is named Walter. But, lest you think he’s just one of these vain guys who’ll go see any band named after him, he actually went to see Caribou — who was known as Manitoba up until about a year ago — and Walter Meego was the opening act. Confused? Good. Now you’re ready for Walter Meego (the band, remember, not the reader) and their wry, funky, glitchy brand of “mutant dance” music.
The Warmth
Let’s all take a moment to thank the guy who invented the Internet. And we should probably thank the billionaires over at Google, too, for if it weren’t for these individuals, we wouldn’t have the machinery by which we can stumble upon new music purely by accident. Not only was I looking for another band when The Warmth came up, but I had misspelled that original band’s name — badly. Yet, there was The Warmth, offering up an electro-acoustic vibe not unlike Travis and David Gray — something vaguely familiar and comforting but hardly stuck in Dullsville. There’s precious little information available about the band’s latest album, Fox & Weathervane, on their website or, irony of ironies, through Google searches. But they do have some music to share, so take a listen while you try to figure out this mystery wrapped in a riddle wrapped in…a website.
Faux Pas
A week ago I posted Gotye. If I hadn’t been in such a serious carb coma on the heels of Thanksgiving I probably would have posted an Australian two-fer including Gotye’s friend and countryman, Faux Pas (aka Tim Shiel). These two take great care to make their quirky, sampleriffic musical explorations feel warm, organic, and spontaneous. Faux Pas even goes as far as to eliminate vocal samples lest we get lured into the obsessive spotting exercise that Gotye’s tracks inspired. The frenzied big beat sound of “Cup of Wonder” provides instant gratification but “White Light” definitely steals the show. I am now convinced that spacey theramin, Asian dulcimer, and R&B horn riffs were always meant for each other; all they needed was a tumbling drumbeat to rally around… As a bonus, it turns out Tim’s also a bit of an MP3 blogger himself. Check out the Blog section of his site to get a good sense of his musical reference points.
Ehroehed
Ehroehed is Lonny Potter, who records music in British Columbia, apparently to give away to his friends. Erik Ratcliffe is a nice person from somewhere, wherever, who dropped Ehroehed in our Suggestion Box. If I knew Lonny Potter personally, I’d tell him to burn a disc of his music to give to Erik Ratcliffe because, you know, that whole sharing the sharing thing. Plus, it’s gonna be the holidays, so let’s all be Lonny’s friends, yeah? Like Will Oldham in the Palace days, Ehroehed reminds me that there are plenty of weirdos out there making beautifully strange songs just for the hell of it (and for that I’ll count my blessings).
Blue Bone Express
I often wonder what kind of music my children will end up listening to. When I was their age I was fed a steady diet of The Beach Boys, The Carpenters, Bee Gees and Roger Miller, so my parents were understandably distraught when the sounds of Dead Kennedys’ Fresh Fruit For Rotting Vegetables blasted out of my room. I had a peek into my future when I mentioned to my son that if he kept practicing the piano and clarinet he’d soon be playing music like the punk rock that was shuffling through the car stereo at the time. “No dad,” he said, “I want to play in the Disneyland band.” Well, thanks to Patti Bao, one of our fine readers, I’ve found possible musical mentors for the kid. Straight outta Oakland, Blue Bone Express — nothing but lively traditional Dixieland jazz here. Look, I’m always worrying that he’ll end up bringing home a pan flute, or let his appearance deteriorate like this, so I am extremely relieved at his choice of aspirations.
Gotye
Gotye is Aussie one-man band Wally De Backer who, like his fellow countrymen The Avalanches, humanizes bedroom beats, quirky samples, and the odd live instrument and weaves them into epic pop structures. I guess it’s summer down under, which would explain the decidedly upbeat tone of these preview tracks from his forthcoming LP.
Au Revoir Simone
So long, Simone! Have a nice Thanksgiving in Brooklyn. (I’ll probably get yelled at by our loyal fact-checking readership, who will remind me that none of the three women in this band is named Simone.) I’d love to spend my T-day in Brooklyn, or listening to Verses Of Comfort, Assurance and Salvation — which the Japanese consider to be “8 tracks of perfect lo-fi synth pop” — but it looks like I’ll be at home with just one song by Au Revoir Simone to ease me through my tryptophan hit.
Speaker Speaker
I thought I’d impress the lady and take her up to L.A. to see a rock and roll show. It’d been too long since we’d got our rock on. We were on the guestlist and everything. We had a babysitter and everything. As we were getting on the 405 at 7pm on Friday night I knew we were in trouble. Traffic. Long story short: missed the show, did a quick shopping spree at Amoeba, replaced a Housemartins (The People Who Grinned Themselves To Death) CD that we’d lost, and sang-along to it all the way home while sucking down milkshakes from In ‘N’ Out. Not a bad night after all. Probably, because, unlike Speaker Speaker, I was right when I picked my girl. We still share a similar taste in music years down the road. And like you, it’s safe to assume, we’re still listening to music fanatically when many of our friends have given up on it, or somehow, unexplicably, started listening to Top 40 Country radio. Speaker Speaker shares The Housemartins and Joe Jackson’s youthful exuberance that too many people lose when they hit their late 20s/early 30s. Don’t let it happen to you.
Dog Traders
Drew is from Columbus, Ohio. He draws comics (Toothpaste for Dinner) and makes music (Dog Traders). You probably already know that. Prior to Jason B.’s suggestion, I may have been the only American of my particular demographic to have slept on Drew’s wicked ballpoint funnies. I may be in broader company by saying I’d never heard his sandblasted garage pop either. But that, too, has changed and I’m a better man for it. Drew’s distant, mumbled vocals remind me at times of J. Mascis or Michael Stipe on REM’s circa Murmur. His lyrics are as odd, clever, and compelling as you would expect from the man who brought you this. Not only is the music good, it’s free. All of the songs on Dog Traders’ A Panic in a Pagoda is available as a downloadable .zip file on Drew’s site (though at $7 I’d recommend buying a copy of the packaged CD, if only to get your hands on the lyrics).