Add father, restorer of modernist architecture, and solo artisit to Brad Laner’s lengthy resume. Laner’s always been somewhat of a DIY kinda guy as he’s practically steered such fine musical vessels as Medicine, Electric Company and Amnesia single-handedly. Maybe it’s because he’s a father now, or maybe it’s because he’s got a place, a self-restored a 1964 mid-century modern Eichler home, to proudly call his own that Brad Laner has finally shed his many masks and is releasing his first proper solo record, Neighbor Singing. At least his son and home have both inspired and restrained him, allowing him small windows of recording time which helped him keep an objective view on the album. These two tracks hint at a sunny, summertime pop record, a loopy-Beach Boys kind of sound. A sound, Laner says, that has emerged not from his record collection, but from his own biological self: “I wanted to shamelessly utilize all of the different skills that I’ve built up over a lifetime of musical experiences.” No shame necessary. Dig this.
The Evens
To quote my friend Rick, “The best band ever.”Ian MacKaye and Amy Farina made this wonderful lo-fi pop (in punk rock style, of course), and frankly, we at 3hive have never featured a Dischord band until now. It was time to right this wrong.
Shelter Two [MP3, 3.6MB, 160kbps]Pushed Up Against the Wall [MP3, 3.3MB, 128kbps]
[ingenting]
File under: Better Late Than Never. [ingenting] may mean “nothing” in their native tongue of Swedish, but this wonderful single, a favorite of mine since Labrador offered it for free, oh, about 11 months ago (see first sentence), is anything but. The post-punk guitar, the keyboard-driven simple melody, the disco bass, and the crisp drumming are awfully catchy and do not deserve to be horded by me any longer.
Tulsa
Things are always bigger in Texas, right? And Tulsa’s in Oklahoma, which is next to Texas, and thus things should be a little bit bigger there too. Um, yeah. This Tulsa’s actually from Boston, but they’ve got some big sound, and lots of it. The three songs below, from the recently released album I Was Submerged offer up a good idea of what the band’s all about. Some shimmer here and some crunching guitar there, understatement in one track (“Shaker,” which might be my favorite of the bunch) and a little 1990s Brit-rock swagger in another (“Mass”) — good stuff to fill the wide open spaces.
The Cotton Jones Basket Ride
It might take a few spins — there must be something spinning inside the computer, right? —for this debut track from The Cotton Jones Basket Ride to really work for you. Greg and I were hanging around, giving it a listen, and our first thought was to turn down the volume, for the sake of discretion. But there’s something about former Page France frontman Michael Nau’s voice that begs to be heard. In this case, it’s the refreshingly bluesy, breezy falsetto of “Had Not A Body.” He’s singing about demons in his head and fire in his throat, but you know, the song is so cool and laid back, it’s really nothing to worry about. Time will tell if the rest of his new debut, Paranoid Cocoon, will be equally tranquil; it’s due in early 2008. Until then and according to the promo people, “an individually handmade, hand-stamped, limited EP Booklet of five songs is available for purchase at all Cotton Jones shows, and via the Quite Scientific website. The booklets are hand made, hand stamped, and include a CD of four songs set to appear on the upcoming record, and one exclusive to the release.” Right on.
Elk City
So there is this perfect meal that I like to make in the fall (due credit must be given to Marcella Hazan, the grande dame of Italian home cooking). I just take some plum tomatoes (canned are best, but the good kind, not the five for a dollar kind) and I put them in a pot. Then I take an onion, cut it in half and put it in the pot. Then I take five tablespoons of butter and, ahem, put it in the pot. I then cook the contents of the pot for 45 minutes, spoon it over piping hot pasta and sit in my pajamas watching wretched TV. It tastes just as good as any complicated and fussy meal I’ve ever made. But this is not a cooking blog, its about the music, so what the hell is my point? My point is that Elk City’simple and lovely “Los Cruzados” is the long missing final ingredient to this simple, yet high octane, tomato sauce. My point is that songs don’t have to redefine the rules to be good, and sometimes taking a few simple, common, high quaity ingredients and mixing them into the pot can yield the most comforting, pleasure inducing things. And then of course you add some butter. If you were wondering, singer Renee LoBue’s melty, raspy voice is totally the butter.
Miss Fairchild
The promo materials promise that Miss Fairchild aren’t a bunch of “suburban white kids play-acting at being an ’80s funk band.” Well, unless they were born in Detroit fifty years ago they are exactly a bunch of suburban white kids posing as an ’80s funk band, and guess what??? THAT’S OK. All I care about is that you actually pull it off without a whiff of irony. Miss Fairchild does just that. They are 100% committed to a rump-shakin’ dancefloor party, no wink-wink-nudge-nudge attached. Miss Fairchild bring the smooth, R&B-styled party-pop, the kind that’ll have all your friends waving their hands in the air like they just don’t care, especially during the “cha-cha” breakdown in “Number One”…”Yeah Rosie, Yeah Rosie, Yeah Vije, Yeah Vije, Yeah Patty, Yeah Patty, Yeah SylviiiiiiAAAA!!”
Now all they need to do is hop on the road with Hunter Revenge and Gen-Y’s Prince will have his Morris Day counterpart. Deluxe.
Wojtek Godzisz
I’m really not a huge fan of overly theatrical pop. I don’t like show tunes at all, and musicals make me cringe. So, I have trouble explaining my fascination with the likes of Wojtek Godzisz (that’s voy-tek go-jeesh). It’s not just because the Brit is Polish — czesc, dude! Instead, I think it’s the drive in these tunes that captures my attention. Even though “December Will Be Magic Again” has all the makings of stage drama, it’s going somewhere, and that beat is moving me around the house when really I’d rather nap. And covering The Smiths is just fun.
Club 8
I feel a special numerical affinity for Club 8. The number eight holds a particular significance with me, a significance that I don’t believe I’ve shared outright with our readership, which is surprising, even to me, because I’m quite obnoxious with it in person. Put it this way, I probably would’ve been much better at math if we worked off a base eight system. OK, I’ll put it another way: I wouldn’t get very far hitchhiking. Here, you’d better just have a look (Taken, probably ten years ago, by Mr. Lifto backstage at a Jim Rose Circus Sideshow. No it hasn’t been Photoshopped.). Now that we’ve established I’m a member of Club 8, onto the music at hand (pun not intended, seriously)…
Club 8 is the Swedish boy-girl duo of Johan AngergÃ¥rd and Karolina Komstedt, homemaking music since 1995. Incessantly smooth and gorgeous, both the singing and playing, Club 8 has toyed with different takes on their cozy pop sound: ’60s folk, trip-hop, and bossa nova. It’s been five years since the last Club 8 album due to the fact that both Johan AngergÃ¥rd and Komstedt also play in Acid House Kings, not to mention AngergÃ¥rd’s work with The Legends. Their new album, The Boy Who Couldn’t Stop Dreaming, promises to balance sunshine (“Heaven”) and melancholia (“Jesus, Walk With Me”—a quiet rebuttal to Sam Harris et al). In a word, stunning.
Ferraby Lionheart
Lately, everything has just seemed charming. And my last few posts have reflected that. (Uh, I hope?) Ferraby Lionheart completes my “charmed cycle” and, with Clare and the Reasons and Jens Lekman, has been fillling my little apartment with happy sounds. He doesn’t sound like Ryan Adams to me at all, but somehow when Ferraby Lionheart is playing, my brain is somehow right back in Chicago circa 2000 listening to Whiskeytown and driving down Lakeshore Drive watching the leaves change. Or I am in Minnesota listening to the Strokes first album for the first time. In short, this is music to mark time to. Mr. Lionheart is a mishmash–there are strings occasionally, some Otis Redding style whistling, tics sometimes, a little harmonica and a small, appropriate amount of irony mixed up in this man’s music. But mostly its just pretty and solid, and tis the season for pretty, transporting songs.