La Laque is not a French band. Sure, they sing in French, and the name is French, but no one in the band is French. Les filles parlent francais, mais les garcons ne parlent pas francais (need to run that by Sam, 3hive’s resident Francophone). Regardless of origin, NYC’s La Laque do have a more eccentric pop outlook, and they’re not afraid to let the violin drive the song, as shown in “Secret” from their split single with PAS/CAL.
The Lil’ Fighters
Upon seeing the Walkmen play the Hi-tone on Tuesday night, I was just blown away. They were so good and so loud live that I couldn’t even stand to listen their own albums the next day. So while we can’t post the Walkmen again, we can instead talk about the Lil’ Fighters, a New York band with links to the Walkmen. The Lil’ Fighters, however, don’t share that much musically with the Walkmen, prefering a pop foundation that lends to glowing warmth and feeling pleasant and singing lots of la-la’s, which is just what I need to let my ears recover.
Delaney
Midas himself must have touched the ears of the folks over at Pehr. They’ve just released the first album from 33-year-old Parisienne, Christelle Delaney, here in the States and I find myself going back for more and more (kind of like I did last week with the cream puffs at Papa Beard’s). Delaney is indeed comfort food to the ears, whether you’re looking for a little ray of sunshine, “A Quoi Bon” (dig the dusty beat), or a soundtrack for heart break, “La Nuit On A Toujours Tout.” Either way, prepare for deliciousness.
Brendan Benson
If Brendan Benson’s indie cred translated into cash money, he could probably find what he’s looking for, instead of still looking for it. All the hip Detroit bands link to his website; he runs a ghetto recording studio and hangs out with Jack White; he got screwed by Virgin Records in a ’90s album deal but is back with V2 anyway — what more could you ask for? Benson’s got a little twang, some ’60s sensibilities, and a whole lot of talent. If he could only get Jack to punch him out in front of some photographers…
My Enemy
The band claims to know all your secrets. Their label says My Enemy will kill you with poison. A wolf in sheep’s clothing? Harmless? Find out for yourself. Recommended if you’re a fan of imagining Múm up all night smoking crack…well, okay, maybe Múm after a couple Diet Cokes.
Mike Doughty
In my hotel of fond memories, Mike Doughty will always have a guaranteed late arrival, smoking-permitted Junior Executive Suite, complete with Heavenly Bed™ and a pillow mint. When I was a young player trying make it in the journalism game, Doughty was a consistently magical interview and overall nice guy. Also, unbeknownst to him, Doughty sparked the first major argument my wife and I ever had: About three hours into a five-hour road trip I popped in Irresistible Bliss. After a few songs, my then fiancee says, “Do we have to listen to this again?” To which I respond, “Listen, if I were a band, I’d be Soul Coughing. So get used to this.” In the stuff of sitcoms, our pal Ned had to sit through the next two hours in the backseat, wishing he’d found a different ride. I’m happy to report that our marriage weathered that debate and that Doughty is back, badder and deffer than before. My man’s talent still lies in his intrinsically rhythmic yarns, wherein he turns observational minutae into hypnotic commands through nasal, raspy repetition. But his writing has matured and the subway busker sound of his first solo effort has been replaced by some genuine instrumental weight, making Haughty Melodic sound bigger and warmer.
P.S. All you other Mike Doughtys are just imitating…
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
At some point I had to acknowledge the wonders of this band despite or due to the fact that every single one of my favorite music-related blogs has jocked Clap Your Hands Say Yeah — which I won’t acronym-ize because it ends up reminding me of Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young when, in fact, they remind me of all that’s good about the Talking Heads, early Radiohead (yeah, Heather, I said Radiohead), and hazy, distorted memories of childhood.
Tom Vek
In one of our 2004 Year-End Lists we each named the artists we wished would make MP3s available so we could rave about them on 3hive. Well, dreams do come true, people, as I can finally cross one Tom Vek off that list — just in time for his debut album to drop Stateside. The unassuming Londoner records deliciously tense, warm, and infectious songs from his parents’ garage. Feel free to listen in your garage, or wherever else you see fit.
Mazarin
I’m camping. Download and drop a DIY review in the comments. The most pithy review wins Mazarin’s full-length and a couple other treats from the 3hive storage shed.
Space Mtn
What’s in the Los Angeles air (apart from way too much carbon monoxide) that makes even the struggling, DIY bands look and sound like they’re just one rigged TRL away from mass market stardom? Space Mtn, with the hot librarian looks and open diary lyrics of lead singer Dina Waxman combined with multi-instrumentalist Chris Jacks’ deft ear for melody and melancholy, are a case in point. The duo crafts ridiculously tender, ridiculously listenable pop music which, with or without a well-financed marketing push, will find daylight sooner or later. Watch your back, Hilary Duff…for real.