Okkervil River

"Our Life is Not a Movie or Maybe"
from the album The Stage Names
2007
iTunes



The Stage Names plays like a response to Okkervil River's last album, the epic Black Sheep Boy; an effort by singer/songwriter Will Sheff to find a form of expression that moves beyond the cathartic darkness of what was the band's best album to date.

The sound of this new work is bright. This is Okkervil River as a true rock band, reaching out to fully embrace pop music's history. This is a compendium of Motown rhythms, post-punk drama, girl group harmonies, classic rock power, country charm, orchestral pop flourishes and folk music's universal themes. No longer does the band merely hint at these influences; now they've completely embraced them.

In a sense, it's a bold move. Over the course of the band's previous albums, Sheff and company have created a catalog that, like the work of peers Bright Eyes, Neutral Milk Hotel and Arcade Fire, seems to revel in the strangeness of pain and unhappiness.

Sometimes their music has been a difficult mess to sift through. The lyrics read like Raymond Carver without the simplicity, sharing tales of people hurt or hurting others, characters that need that pain and need to give that pain. The music has been a folk-rock mess that easily conveys that same sense of pain and longing.

The Stage Names moves past these themes. The album is built like a collection of short stories, all with the same narrative structure as past albums, but without the complete embrace of darkness. Not that the sadness is gone, but these songs are a more complicated matter -- songs that acknowledge the pain in life, while admitting that even with that pain, life is not hopeless.

There is a unity to the lyrics. Each of these songs seems to take the artist as its focus. Songs like "Plus One" and "You Can't Hold the Hand of a Rock and Roll Man" question the motives and effects of music and its lifestyle.

Each song seems to point to Sheff and company searching for the meaning not just in life, but in what they've done to this point. It speaks to a band opening up the next chapter in their already impressive existence.

~ Jeremy Iverson, College Times (Ariz.)

The Cops

"It's Epidemic"
from the album Free Electricity
2007



Seattle quintet the Cops took shape as a trio in 2004. Michael Jaworski (vocals/guitar), John Randolph (guitar) and ex-Kinski member David Weeks (drums) released the Why Kids Go Wrong EP and full-length Get Good or Stay Bad in 2005, then added former Supersucker Drew Church (bass) in early 2006. Their forthcoming sophomore LP, Free Electricity (out November 6 via the Control Group), was recorded as a foursome before guitarist Brandon Bay was added to the band this summer, finally completing the Cops as a five-piece.

On Free Electricity, the Cops' staccato stop-and-go six-string rhythms couple with abusive drumming to create a surprisingly danceable set. "Mega Suicide" and "Secret Lives" pummel like guitar-fueled bulldozers, though they serve as exceptions to the dance-rock rule. "It's Epidemic" opens the album with a frantic mess of jutting guitars, while the sparse but insanely catchy "Light It Off" evokes images of a beefed-up Spoon. "Islands" sounds like better amplified !!!, while "Modern Black Flats" compares to Wire and Gang of Four 45s played at 33 1/3 RPM. It's the organ-drenched blast "Cold Crushin'" that steals the disc, mimicking a scream-less Blood Brothers to rump-shaking effect.

~ Gary L. Blackwell, Jr., Spin.com

Radical Face

"Welcome Home"
from the album Ghost
2007
iTunes



Ben Cooper wields an array of second hand and salvaged stringed instruments, which brings Radical Face to fruition. Though primarily a solo project, Alex Kane (bass), who also plucks the four-string with label mates Electric Presidents, and brother Emeral Cooper (piano) both lend a collaborative hand.

Somber arrangements with deliberately austere lyrics aim to expose the emotional impressions left by former tenants in forgotten homes. Yes, Ghost, Radical Face's debut LP, which dropped this spring via Morr Music, is indeed a concept album. "I always considered [concept albums] to be artsy masturbation projects," admits Cooper, but that didn't stop the principal from indulging, spending over two years writing and recording the creative opus. Resourceful samples and delicate, yet complex compositions dripping with nostalgia tie Radical Face closely in temperament to the Album Leaf circa In a Safe Place. The slow building hooks and innocent choruses found on "Welcome Home" and "Wrapped in Piano Strings" just might convince you that hushed sonics are poised for a musical takeover.

All Radical Face's recording efforts are turned out in a tool shed, which lacks both heat and A/C, situated behind Cooper's Jacksonville Beach, FL abode. The combination of sweltering Florida heat and its proximity to a major highway force the band to record only between the hours of midnight and 5 A.M.

~ Eric Nowels, Spin.com

Josh Ritter

"To the Dogs or Whoever"
from the album The Historical Conquests of Josh Ritter
2007
iTunes



Josh Ritter is the type of artist, as opposed to today’s mainstream stars, who doesn’t sit in long hours studio sessions, just to let the computers do his work. He likes to walk in a studio and just start recording whatever comes to his mind, singing with his heart and mind; the end result can be seen in his latest album, The Historical Conquests of Josh Ritter, a very raw and passionate release.

Did I mention he very much resembles Bob Dylan? Actually if you aren’t listening carefully you probably think it’s Dylan playing, luckily Ritter has his own signature sound: fast, spitting, almost rap like vocal lines, dusty guitar and old piano lines, are all almost omnipresent sounds in his songs.

"To the Dogs or Whoever" is an excellent example to the stated above, fast lyrics and dirty guitar lines, toped by piano notes, while the chorus erupts. A very passinote song and very worthy listen.

~ Tibi Puiu, zmemusic.com

Patrick Park

"Here We Are"
from the album Everyone's in Everyone
2007
iTunes



Songwriter Patrick Park never saw a single episode of the soapy show "The O.C." before the series ended earlier this year. (The singer hasn't owned a television set in nearly a decade.)

So how did Park's "Life is a Song" end up landing the sweet spot as the series' final musical number?

"The music supervisors just heard the song on my Myspace page and left a message," Park says. "That was pretty cool. Usually, all I get on there is spam for Viagra."

So far, the exposure hasn't resulted in the kind of "O.C."-driven boost that helped break bands like Death Cab for Cutie. But it deserves to. Operating under the radar, Park has written some of the most lyrically astute, and sonically sensitive, songs by a solo artist today. His debut CD, 2003's Loneliness Knows My Name, threatened to give old-fashioned singer-songwriters a good name, providing a modern answer to early Jackson Browne.

This month Park issued his second CD, Everyone's in Everyone, which kicks off with "Life is a Song." The number epitomizes the album's main motif.

Here, and throughout the disk, Park ruminates on how our assumptions about ourselves doom us to repeat bad behavior and bar us from change. "It's time to let go of everything we used to know/ ideas of strength and who we've been," he sings. "It's time to cut ties that won't ever free our minds/from the chains and shackles that they're in."

"Certain things happen to us in our lives and we identify those things as being part of us," Park explains. "But once they're gone there's no reality to them anymore. The past is a figment of our imagination. If you hold on to it too strongly, you can't see what's really around you."

That struggle came to obsess Park between his first and second CD. After his debut ran its course, he says he was "a complete mess."

While declining to go into specifics, Park offers: "There are a million ways to self-destruct and I feel like I've found a lot of those -- whether that be sabotaging relationships, personal and professional, or substance abuse -- trying to get away from whatever feeling I haven't been able to deal with."

The struggle to confront those emotions defines much of the new CD. Lyrically, Park does so in an uncommonly clear way. Unlike many pop scribes, who seem hell-bent on making their words as inaccessible as possible, Park pens vivid verse that's poetic, too. "The trick is to be clear without being too literal," he says. "I want people to know what I'm getting at."

Park learned some of that from his mother, a poet. "She taught me that there are a lot of ways to say something. You can make it more powerful by turning it on its head."

Park has written songs since he was an early teen growing up in Morrison, Colo. "The place was out of the way of a lot of things," he says. "So I didn't have a lot of outside influences."

His father, a doctor, played American folk and blues records around the house, which made a deep impression on Park. While he played in bands as a teenager, the singer says he never collaborated much with the other members. "I don't how much fun I was to play in a band with," he laughs. "I just wrote the songs on my own and then would take them to the other members."

In 1998, Park moved to New York to try to make it. But he lasted less than eight months. "[The city] pretty much kicked my ass," he says. "I was really young and didn't know anybody."

The singer retreated to Los Angeles, which felt a little more like Colorado. There he took jobs as a waiter, retail clerk and karate teacher (he's a black belt, incongruously enough). At the same time, Park self-produced a CD called The Basement Tapes, which he sent to producer David Trumfio (Wilco, OK Go). He'd met Trumfio some time earlier in Denver. Impressed by the music, the producer cut an EP with Park, which led to a contract with Hollywood Records and his Loneliness debut.

The CD's title reflected the end of a bad relationship, as well as the death of Park's father (who'd been sickly for years). While the CD got great reviews, it didn't sell. Park became disillusioned with the company. "They had no idea what to do with me," he says. "They're a pop label, so they were always trying to fit a square peg in a round hole."

The new CD appears on the indie imprint Curb Appeal. While it continues the melancholy mood of the first, the music has a more spare beauty and its lyrics show a new precision.

Park's lyrical questioning of assumptions has more than a psychological resonance. There's a political angle too. Many of the songs muse on the rigid ideologies that led us to the Iraq war. "So many problems in the world have to do with us acting like there's truth in things that are really only opinions," he says.

Of course, it's threatening to question those things -- especially on a personal level. But to Park it's necessary. "Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to admit you're not the person you always thought you were," he says. "But in the end, that's the only honest place change can come from."

~ Jim Farber, New York Daily News

Queens of the Stone Age

"Make It Wit Chu"
from the album Era Vulgaris
2007
iTunes

A half hour after his concert ended in a dizzying assault of noise, Josh Homme stood behind a catering table quietly handing out bottles of Corona to fans who lucked/talked/connived their way backstage at the Duluth Entertainment Convention Center.

A pretty blond in a short denim skirt seemed especially amused that the frontman for one of the best hard-rock bands of this decade, Queens of the Stone Age, was playing bartender.

"This is one of the coolest days of my life," she told him. "We never get this kind of excitement up here."

Homme lifted his Corona to hers in salutation. "That's exactly why we played here," he said.

"Here" could have meant any of the out-there cities that Queens of the Stone Age played on its way from Los Angeles to Lollapalooza in Chicago three weeks ago: Boise, Fargo, Cedar Rapids, Missoula and even Billings were on the itinerary. They not-so-ironically called it "The Duluth Tour."

"Before we booked these shows, we were like, 'We need to go to cities we've never done before -- like (expletive) Duluth!'" he said.

With sweat still dripping from his red pompadour, Homme (rhymes with "mommy") bowed out of the backstage party for a post-concert interview. We wound up in a hockey warm-up room, complete with rubber floors and a coach's rink-shaped marker board.

The 34-year-old rock star genuinely looked amused by the surroundings.

"Good rock 'n' roll translates everywhere, and we're having fun proving ours is that good," he said in a vaguely cowboy-ish drawl, acquired while growing up in the California desert.

Homme was full of comments that sounded more like rock mantras than interview answers. The best was: "I don't need to be in the biggest band in the world. I need to be in my favorite band in the world."

That distinction became apparent when it came time for Queens of the Stone Age to follow up its 2002 million-seller, Songs for the Deaf, the album that landed them a radio hit ("No One Knows") and -- for a brief time -- a household-name drummer (Dave Grohl).

The band's iron-hot status cooled, though, when Homme split with childhood pal Nick Oliveri, who formed QotSA with him in 1997. Oliveri wrote and sang a good chunk of the first three QOTSA albums, so his departure obviously disappointed fans. And so did the album that followed, 2005's Lullabies to Paralyze.

Homme conceded that it was a troubled time.

"People wanted us to make Songs for the Deaf II, and there was so much personal stuff going on instead of musical stuff," he said. "I just tried to get back into the music, but then I started to lose my temper."

Things especially got rough when QotSA went on tour with Nine Inch Nails. Suffering from knee and back pains (plus bad reviews and the fallout with Oliveri), Homme said he was just plain frazzled.

"So I just disappeared for a while, and re-emerged in Eagles of Death Metal, which was way funner for me at the time."

Homme has issued two albums with Eagles of Death Metal, a sexed-up, T. Rex-copping rock band fronted by another of his childhood friends, Jesse Hughes. It's one of several well-received side projects spawned off of QOTSA (others included the Desert Sessions and Mondo Generator). Of the much-steadier Eagles gigs, he said: "They freed me up to do this again."

"Music is the pursuit of things I love the most," he said, offering another mantra. "If it starts to sting, I stop and do something else."

Homme clearly found the love again in time for the fifth QotSA album, Era Vulgaris, which plays like a wild, sweltering muscle-car ride through the desert in summer. It's a clear rebound for the band, sonically ambitious and more diverse than past records.

He credited a lot of the rekindled verve to his bandmates, especially guitarist Troy Van Leenwen and drummer Joey Castillo.

"This lineup is fantastic, maybe be the best of them all," he said. "Joey and Troy have been here for five or six years, more than half the band's life. They're hardly the new guy. But if you're not there at the beginning of the band, people always see you as the new guy."

Era Vulgaris also marks a noticeable step up in the lyrical department for Homme, who took the translation of the album title ("our common era") to heart. He wrote about his generation Pete Townshend-style in songs like the moody dirge "Suture Up Your Future" and the playful and cocky "I'm Designer."

"I don't care if it hurts, just so long as it's real," he sings in "Suture." In "Designer," he offers wry observations such as, "My generation don't trust no one/ It's hard to blame, not even ourselves/ The thing that's real for us is fortune and fame/ All the rest seems like work."

Homme said of the song, "It's not a finger in the face or a judgment, it's just an observation. I love this generation. I think we take sort of a blood-sport attitude to people like Paris Hilton. It's like, 'You're entertaining. Fine.' But when it's time to get down to something, get out of the way."

Era Vulgaris also hints at the personal ups and downs in Homme's life of late. On the up side, he has a 20-month-old daughter at home with wife Brody Dalle, leader of the Aussie punk band the Distillers.

"I miss my family a lot; it's the thing I care about most now," he said, adding that he's excited for his wife to go on tour with her new act, Spinerette. "The band is so good, it's stupefying. And then I get to stay home when she goes on tour, happily."

On the downside, Homme wound up having to take anger-management classes recently after he purportedly punched out Dwarves singer Blag Dahlia for trash-talking him in the press.

"I wish I could tell people the truth about what I really did and did not do, but I'll leave that to the imagination," he said, not offering much more comment on the anger classes: "Something like that, you just show a piece of yourself that they want to see. ... Sometimes I wonder if I ever really went there."

Homme opened up a little more when asked about his split with Oliveri, which he said "was better for the band."

"I miss being around someone that I really love but can't be around," he said. "But I can't drink a little poison every day, certainly not for somebody else."

In the end, Homme said he has indeed wound up with his favorite band in the world, if not the biggest band in the world. With Oliveri gone, he said, "We can get away with rock 'n' roll murder now."

At least they slayed 'em in Duluth.

~ Chris Riemenschneider, Star Tribune

1990s

"You Made Me Like It"
from the album Cookies
2007
iTunes



1990s come from Glasgow, but they're more in the recent sleaze-rock tradition of Louis XIV and Morningwood than the neo-post-punk of their fellow countrymen in Franz Ferdinand. The band favors sparkly riffs and chant-y vocals, chockfull of strut and coo, and at times, bandleader John McKeown seems to be parodying power-pop cockiness -- especially in "Cult Status," where he sings "my cult status keeps me alive" in a bratty voice, taking the piss out of every drunken rock-god who every ripped off The Stooges and the Stones. A little of 1990s' debut album Cookies goes a long way, but bouncy, witty anthems like "You Made Me Like It" kick hard, whether they're meant to be ironic or not.

~ Noel Murray, The A.V. Club

Tegan and Sara

"Back in Your Head"
from the album The Con
2007
iTunes



Every band dreams of its first tour, but indie-pop sisters Tegan and Sara Quin's earliest road trips were not your average rock & roll fantasy. After signing to Neil Young's Vapor Records imprint in 2000, the Calgary-born identical twins were on tour by themselves, making overnight journeys across their native Canada on a Greyhound, accompanied by the drunk homeless folks who ride the bus to stay warm in the winter. "I remember once when our dad came to pick us up at the Greyhound station -- we had dropped fifteen pounds, and Tegan had a crazy sinus infection," says Sara. "He was like, 'Are you sure you don't want to go to university or get a job?'"

By the time the 26-year-olds began prepping for this summer's tour in support of their new album, The Con, they didn't need an office gig. Tegan and Sara were nominated for a Juno -- Canada's equivalent of a Grammy -- for 2004's So Jealous, and the White Stripes covered that album's break-out single, "Walking With a Ghost." Now the girls are making enough money to bring their own videographer on the road with them, this time in a real tour bus.

But those early travails were formative for the pint-size, intricately coiffed twins, who have been shaping their own career since they were three years old. "For Christmas, my parents got us one of those Fisher-Price tape recorders," says Sara. "We were total narcissists: All we wanted to do was listen to our own voices." When she and Tegan started writing songs at age fourteen, they taped themselves and sold the demos to friends. "We were like, 'It's not enough to listen to ourselves,'" Saray says. "We want to make other people listen to us -- for money!"

Thirteen years later, thanks to the success of So Jealous, Tegan and Sara landed a major-label deal that allowed them to spend $50,000 on their new record, the most polished album of their career. Produced by Death Cab for Cutie's Chris Walla, The Con is evenly split between Sara's angular, hook-filled ditties and Tegan's melancholic odes to heartbreak. More so than their previous releases, The Con features keyboards, danceable post-punk rhythms and computerized beats, imparting a creeping dissonance that matches the hum of their voices. Only a studied ear could tell you which twin has the higher-pitched harmonies or which tends to play on the offbeat. To the girls, however, the differences are clear. "It's impossible for me to think Tegan sounds likes me, " says Sara. "I literally might as well be in a band with Nick Cave."

Still, they sisters, both lesbians, are in sync when it comes to their favorite lyrical subject. "Even though our first songs were deceptively convoluted with metaphors, they were always about getting a girl," says Tegan. "We're relationship people. We're, like, doctors of love."

Adds Sara, "There is something so complicated about loving me and loving Tegan. Every girl I've ever dated has said that by dating one of us, you're dating both of us, because we're always together. We love each other in a way that most siblings don't understand."

~ Jenny Eliscu, Rolling Stone

Spoon

"Lines in the Suit"
from the album Girls Can Tell
2001
iTunes



The Spoon of the '90s and the Spoon of the '00s sound almost as if they're two completely different bands. With Telephono, the Austin based group had emerged as a scrappy indie rock combo, unpolished, concerned with punk ferocity as much as pop songcraft, but, most of all, concerned with rawness. With a major label leap to Elektra for the release of second album A Series of Sneaks, Spoon had compressed the sound of Telephono into tighter, even more strongly constructed pop nuggets that made little impact upon release, but the Pixies-like brevity, get-in/tear-it-up/get-out approach heard therein resulted in the album later being heralded as the group's first masterpiece. As with most of the indie rock major label signings in the '90s, Spoon didn't last long on Elektra and were left without a label for a few years, thus creating the dilemma of where to turn next. Left in commercial limbo, Spoon continued to play shows, and commenced recording album number three, without label support, and without a timeline. Post-Y2K, Spoon emerged a renewed and highly evolved group of musicians, re-introduced with their best album yet.

Girls Can Tell was Spoon captured, on their own terms, unhurried, taut and dynamic, but natural. As much ass as A Series of Sneaks kicks, this is where the band hit their stride, ushering in an as-of-yet unending series of amazing records, each one displaying a new, refined facet of the nearing legendary Austinites. Girls Can Tell came as quite the surprise to those expecting more of the Guided by Voices-like pop scruff of yore. This was a deeply soulful side of the band, still steeped in post-punk yet rife with bare emotions and coolly rhythmic.

It's been noted by some that Spoon is a band known for sounding super cool, yet rarely showing an emotional depth in many of their songs. To anyone who believes this notion, Girls Can Tell should remedy them of such silly notions. Perhaps coincidental given the band's separation with Elektra, Girls is a break-up album, its songs ringing of loneliness and desolation, of desperation and of bitterness. They're not so much bitter tirades or cries for forgiveness, but rather subtle post-relationship musings, details sometimes spoken in abstracts, though Britt Daniel's lyrics often cut to the chase. The album begins with "Everything Hits at Once," which seems to tell the story right as the relationship ends. Daniel sings, "don't say a word/ the last one's still stinging," making clear that things have gone sour, yet it's not until he sings "I go to sleep alone but think that you're next to me" that the loneliness and the impact become tangible. Strikingly subtle musically, "Everything Hits at Once" arrives with a powerful drum break before rolling into a cool, albeit restrained groove. With some mellotron courtesy of Trail of Dead's Conrad Keely, the song's climax comes slowly but powerfully, and what initially sounded cool and different becomes a mighty punch to the stomach, one worth taking over and over again.

With an angular, slow-burning groove, "Believing is Art" finds a less directly emotional muse, sounding more like a funkier Wire with its descending bassline and scratchy riffs. Britt Daniel adopts a more cynical tone as he sings "things everybody should know/ the end will come slow/ and love breaks your heart," a stark contrast to the album's opener. The mid-tempo pop of "Me and the Bean" is simpler and more straightforward, executed marvelously, of course. Interestingly enough, it is a cover of a track by fellow Austin band The Sidehackers, whose John Clayton later appeared on Spoon's Kill the Moonlight. "Lines in the Suit" is another standout track (that makes four in a row, and it basically continues until the album ends), taking on a tight, jagged rhythm backed by an electric piano. Though not exactly a breakup song, its lyrics are heartbreaking all the same, tapping into the painful realization of being slowly killed by a soul-crushing job: "how come she feels so washed up/ at such a tender age now." By contrast, "The Fitted Shirt" is a song about shirts that fit right, set to a "Back in Black" beat, rocking exceptionally hard, and, well, just plain sounding cool.

On "Anything You Want," the group delves into an upbeat groove, creating a feelgood sound while still exploring the roadblocks between two people. Its keyboard hook is irresistible, its bassline deep and soulful, while its climax tugs at the heartstrings, Daniel's voice raising as he explains "I feel so alive yet feel so alone/ cause you know you're the one and that that hasn't changed." Next comes "Take a Walk," the hard driving rock track that should have been a single, but wasn't. Daniel sounds his most vindictive here, viciously spitting "tough break handjob broke it all right in two/ and it won't get back together with stitches and glue/ and now that song's been sung/ it's just the cost of what's been done/ the cost of taking a walk with you." It's as if Daniel is going through Kübler-Ross's five stages of grief, and this, being the angry stage, is by far the most fiercely badass.

Throughout the course of the second half, there are even wider swinging styles at play. There's the brief, acoustic "1020 AM," the soulful Motown exercise "Take the Fifth," and the post-punk instrumental "This Book is a Movie." Yet, as many of my favorite albums often do, Girls Can Tell ends with its best song, the magnificent "Chicago at Night." Having long been a set opener at Spoon's shows, "Chicago at Night" is an essential entry in their catalogue. Though more cryptic lyrically, this song is more evocative with its dark and smoky tones. The eerie interplay of surf-inspired guitars and organ creates a haunting atmosphere, gorgeous and dripping with uneasy mood. When Daniel sings "everybody's at disadvantage/ speaking with their second language," the tension becomes thick and palpable, as the metaphorical "wall" in the song is erected and the two characters in the play go their separate ways off into the rainy scenery.

Spoon would continue to evolve with each album, and would continue to produce amazing song after amazing song. With Girls Can Tell, they mastered a perfect album, flowing seamlessly from one song to the next, baring emotions, allowing a common thread to weave in and out of each song, while mixing lighter moments with darker laments and woes. Not every song has the fun, lighthearted feel of those on Kill the Moonlight, or the epic arrangements of Gimme Fiction, or the manic energy on A Series of Sneaks, but each of those characteristics is present, as is an impeccable craftsmanship and flawless execution.

~ Jeff Terich, treblezine.com

Portugal. The Man

"My Mind"
from the album Church Mouth
2007
iTunes



Portugal. The Man (which, to keep things really confusing, is not a man, but a band) is an Alaska-based group that has gotten some nice buzz for its offbeat, prog-rock meets punk rock sort of sound. Much of the band's appealing weirdness comes from singer John Baldwin Gourley, the son of Alaskan dog sled mushers whose bizarre lyrics and mutable stage show makes one wonder if he spent a little too much time in the blazing Arctic sun.

~ Rob Thomas, The Capital Times

Pinning the trio down genre-wise is about as frustrating as figuring out why there's a period in the middle of its name. One minute it's trawling the post-Zeppelin blues swamp, the next it's haunting the shadows with psych-pop, then it's getting its dance groove on with fatback drums and call-and-response vocals. Sometimes in the same song.

All of which might suggest a lack of cohesion, but no. Whatever notion it pursues, Portugal. The Man plays solid rock that sacrifices neither hooks nor power. It all hangs together with an accessibility one wouldn't suspect from its punctuation.

~ Curtis Ross, The Tampa Tribune

Christopher Denny

"Time"
from the album Age Old Hunger
2007
iTunes



The power of a voice can go a long way. And no, for once I am not referring to the "voice" of diction or figurative language, but actually quite literally in the sound and emotion of a voice itself. Though the history of his musical upbringing remains somewhat of a mystery, Christopher Denny may have ended up taking vocal lessons at one point in his life. Regardless, any individual who even listens to a few seconds of his powerful, twangy, and robust vocals could determine that even the most proficient of lessons would not have been able to shape a set of vocals like his without naturally born skill. At this point, he is merely a blip on the radar in retrospective to the national music scene. Though he is heavily regarded around his originated Little Rock, Arkansas, as an extremely promising artist, the word has yet to get out on this multi-talented singer/songwriter.

Whether he is accompanied on stage by a full-on band (Chris Atwood, Marcus Lowe, and Jesse Bates) or by no additional help at all, Denny's stage presence is known to be admirable and gutsy. The 22-year-old appears to be beyond his years in musical skill, both vocally and instrumentally, and plans to undergo the introductory process of an up-and-coming songwriter to release his debut album, Age Old Hunger, later this year. Originally found on the local Tomato House Records, Denny recently signed to a promising New York-based label in the oddly titled 00:02:59 for the national release of Age Old Hunger. Merely a local fixture at this point, it proved rather difficult to find additional information concerning the promising songwriter. Either way, we should all learn more soon because Christopher Denny won't be a secret for much longer.

~ obscuresound.com

Pale Young Gentlemen

"Fraulein"
from the album Pale Young Gentlemen
2007
iTunes



Blurb from The Isthmus removed upon request, but a fine replacement from the friendly folks at Dane101:

Although the motley crew that constitutes Pale Young Gentlemen have the appearance of ruffians, I doubt the Madison band ever get into a fight — their music is far too much fun, in exactly the kind of roguish way that seems designed to keep you dancing and them out of trouble.

Their sound, on their eponymous first release, lies close to the wild, romantic sound of The Decemberists or DeVotchKa, or perhaps even Gogol Bordello, which is to say, it lends itself to hyperbole and the overuse of adjectives. Songs are wont to begin with a dramatic swelling of cello strings reminiscent of DeVotchKa, before bouncing into rousing piano lines that would be quite at home in any gin-joint or smoky bar. The booze-soaked energy produced by this pairing drives boisterous beer-hall choruses worthy of the most debauched adventures.

And the stories they tell mirror this heady mix. Opening track "Fraulein" is a bar love song for the titular lady. The second track, "Nikolai," is a wild romp involving crossdressing, attempted kidnapping, and the cyclopian, one-eyed title character. "Clap Your Hands" is the liveliest song about playing chess in the park (and also dancing) that I've heard in, well, ever. "Appeal to St. Peter" itself can't resist a call-and-response chorus that would be comfortable in any lively den of vice, although the sentiment runs up against the almost angelic sounds of the last track, "Single Days."

The only weak point on the album comes midway through the album, on the song "As a War." It's unpleasantly slow (not that they can't do slower songs: "Single Days" certainly isn't fast), and the vocals are mixed badly, letting lead vocals get drowned out by the instruments.

Beyond this, though, the CD is a fantastic listen from beginning to end — excellent listening for any long evening out, or just to party to privately.

~ Steven Schwerbel, Dane101.com

Nicole Willis and the Soul Investigators

"If This Ain't Love (Don't Know What Is)"
from the album Keep Reachin' Up
2007
iTunes



It's impossible to listen to Keep Reachin' Up by Nicole Willis and the Soul Investigators without wanting to move in the kind of way that involves phrases like hip swagger and soul strut. It harkens back to Brooklyn in the '70s, or soul songs with the guileless rhythm found in a Quentin Tarantino movie, the soundtrack featuring a diva -- an Aretha/James Brown hybrid -- who promptly breaks through to the foreground, bringing along a horn section and calm confidence.

Keep Reachin' Up is the newest release from reissue-loving Seattle label Light in the Attic. But Keep Reachin' Up is a new classic, not a reissue. The neo-soul songsmith's record -- an album-length cherry-pick from soul and funk greats -- was originally released on the Timmion label in late 2005, and is only now getting a stateside release thanks to LITA's distribution relationship with the Finnish label.

An unself-conscious, Tarantino-evoking sound emanating from Finland circa 2005? What planet is Nicole Willis from? Whatever it's called, it's got Ritalin in the water by the gallon.

A lesson in productivity, Willis is a full-time art student at the Lahti Art Institute and the mother of a 4-year-old and a 5-year-old. She counts her husband, Finnish techno cabaret star Jimi Tenor (who provided many of the album's horn arrangements), as a great influence in her work ethic. Shortly after meeting him, they recorded the bulk of her first album, 2000's Soul Makeover, in five days. "He shows me how things can get done in this way that's productive and less self-conscious," she says of the method that marked a 180-degree departure from when she would spend the better part of a year in the studio making albums. "You spend top dollar that way, too."

To record her new album, ex-pat Willis stepped back from Lahti -- where she's lived for the past several years -- and zoomed into the time when music became the gathering medium of choice for her family in '70s Brooklyn.

"We had this portable turntable with speakers in it. We used to listen to music on that -- most of the time it was our parents' old 45s," says the 43-year-old. "It wasn't the stuff that was on the radio. We used to do dances or ask our dad, 'Show us the dance you used to do to this song!' We used to have competitions to sing -- my brother did a really good impersonation of James Brown. I did a really good impression of Al Green. Music was always a part of enjoying being together as the family."

Celebrating and making music with others is still a part of Willis' M.O. -- she's backed by the Finnish ensemble the Soul Investigators. With the 10 of them on different schedules in various jobs and her at art school with two kids, writing wasn't executed as efficiently as it was for her debut. But in order to hone in on the music she wanted to write, she used a secret weapon most neo-soul artists wish they had: "When I was writing some of the words, I made a couple of phone calls to my dad and asked, 'What are some of the dances you used to do?' I wanted to capture that feeling."

To get that feeling of dancing in Brooklyn in the late '50s, just envision dances like the Madison, a line dance that's just as communal as it is unscripted, both free-form and clean. "When people go out to clubs now, they have to draw attention to themselves in such a way, they don't look like they're enjoying themselves."

The aesthetic of Keep Reachin' Up -- its graceful sensuality and throwback to, gulp, subtlety -- comes straight from what Willis finds missing in music today. She's the anti–Amy Winehouse because of those roots, that history. There are songs on here that recall mid-'60s Brook Benton ("A Perfect Kind of Love"); others, like opener "Feelin' Free," are lush and funky, like most early '70s soul. Standout "If This Ain't Love (Don't Know What Is)" manages to encapsulate almost every era of R&B to evoke a genre all Willis' own.

"They could tone it down," she says of the older artists. "[Today's pop stars] are vulgar in a way. People don't hide anything. Everybody has their clothes off, walking around with their bits hanging out, cameras on the ass. It's not trying to be subtle in any way."

Willis isn't trying to be soulful or subtle. She just is.

~ Karla Starr, Seattle Weekly

Rogue Wave

"Lake Michigan"
from the album Asleep at Heaven's Gate
2007
iTunes



Like "California Dreamin'" and possibly everything the Beach Boys have recorded, Rogue Wave's "Lake Michigan" has the unique ability to sound exactly like summer. To-and-fro guitar melodies and echoing bass lines with a happy, handclapped beat create nothing but joy and fervor -- as the band's multiple members by way of Oakland, California (one of which, drummer Pat Spurgeon is the recipient of a new kidney) sing over top another like swimming schools of fish.

The orchestral arrangement of swirling synthesizers and disjointed noise effects feel like the patches of sunlight between the tune's murky depths, recalling the electric acoustics of Neil Finn, Ivy and subdued aspects of the Shins' "Phantom Limb." "Get off my stack," the band repeats in tripled harmonies as whirling wultizers and overcast guitars reverberate in classic indie rock formation. With a reeling, sophisticated musical effort this sublime, there's no way anyone would dare try to cop it. Rogue Wave's Asleep at Heaven's Gate arrives Sept. 18 via Jack Johnson's Brushfire Records.

~ Chandler Levack, Spin.com

Cold War Kids

"A Change is Gonna Come"
from the single Hospital Beds
2007
iTunes

"That was a real risk-taker,'' lead singer Nathan Willett admits at the end of this live recording. It sure was: Not many young rock bands would have the audacity to do a straight up-and-down cover of Sam Cooke's classic soul cry -- even fewer could pull it off as well as Cold War Kids. Willett's no Cooke (who is?), but his ragged voice strikes just the right note of weary determination. Maybe Cooke's passionate secular hymn isn't so different from what the Kids do on songs like current single "Hang Me Up to Dry," after all.

~ Simon Vozick-Levinson, Entertainment Weekly

Northern State

"Away Away"
from the album Can I Keep This Pen?
2007
iTunes

MP3 - "Away Away"

Breaking away from their previously restrictive major label home base, hip-hop trio Northern State went into the studio label-free with producers Chuck Brody and the Beastie Boys' Adrock and crafted Can I Keep This Pen?, an album that may be their best to date. No wonder Ipecac Recordings snapped them up. Carefully recorded and infused with a sense of freedom and wit, the girls show off their ever-increasing rap skills on tracks like "Good Distance" and the political diatribes "Cowboy Man" and "Cold War." And, for the first time, they add singing to their repertoire, most notably on the prettily-harmonied "Away Away" and the catchy "Good Distance." It's not only an accomplished blend of hip-hop, pop, and skillful electronic beats (only one of the songs features real drums, although you'd never know it); it also shows what determination and talent can do, label or no.

~ Kristi Kates, Northern Express Weekly (Mich.)

Iron & Wine

"Boy With a Coin"
from the album The Shepherd's Dog
2007
iTunes



Bearded nu-folk hero Sam Beam is giving fans something to smile about with his "Boy With a Coin" single, a preview of next month's The Shepard's Dog. This will be Iron & Wine's first official full-length since 2004's Our Endless Days Are Numbered album, and if the single indicates the path of the rest of the album, The Shepard's Dog will not disappoint.

"Boy With a Coin" is an aurally pleasing mix of new sounds and instruments, and Sam Beam seems to be taking the Paul Simon-paved path to musical exploration of slightly exotic traditions as only non-traditional American folk can. He doesn't go all out on the songs presented here, but we'll have to wait for the album release to see where he's going. A stand-out single, "Boy With a Coin" incorporates a faintly African-style guitar picking melody over the combination of complimenting fast-paced hand claps and percussion, while the magnetic voice of Beam floats and bends along with the slide guitar.

The sound of Iron & Wine seems to evolve with each album, and maybe the three-year gap since the last success allowed for the exploration that is so evident on this slice of what's to come.

~ Jordan Clifford, wers.org

St. Vincent

"Now, Now"
from the album Marry Me
2007
iTunes



There's a point where too much happiness turns into madness, and St. Vincent's multi-instrumentalist Annie Clark knows this place well from her days spent backing the Polyphonic Spree and Sufjan Stevens. Clark's debut, Marry Me, seduces with one hand and stabs with the other. The title track -- with its torch-song piano (provided by David Bowie's pianist, Mike Garson) and Clark's rich mezzo-soprano urging "I'll be so good to you" -- borders on cloying until the line "You won't realize I'm gone" slips out the back door. Clark is as adept with these sudden reveals as she is with arranging the many strings, choirs, and virtuosic guitar lines that make up Marry Me, from the childish melody of the Kate Bush-esque opener "Now, Now" to the skuzzy, distorted throb of "Your Lips Are Red." The album -- like its thrillingly schizoid centerpiece, "Paris is Burning" -- is simultaneously playful and foreboding, leaving listeners perpetually on edge, waiting for that earsplitting grin to turn maniacal.

~ Sean O'Neil, The A.V. Club

Patrick Watson

"Luscious Life"
from the album Close to Paradise
2006
iTunes



Montreal whiz-kid Patrick Watson matches his grand ambition with visionary players to create a mesmerising orchestral pop record. The talented pianist writes songs as if they were short trips to the cinema and they each possess a transcendent aura. Watson's voice is the first wonder here -- a soaring, dynamic instrument that he wields like he's been singing for a hundred years. On both the title track and "The Storm," he closely resembles M. Ward and similarly attempts to create indie rock from the old world, as if such a thing truly existed. On "Daydreamer" he emotes like Antony, while a trippy rock pastiche swirls around him. A carnival-esque musical backdrop punctuates "Slip Into Your Skin," as Watson employs Ron Sexsmith-style crooning. When the record hits its stride, the contributions of Watson's multi-instrumentalist band-mates -- Robbie Kuster, Mishka Stein, and Simon Angell -- really come to the fore. "Weight of the World" features the soundtrack to a mad scientist scene in some cartoonish movie that Tim Burton might helm, and Watson's creations begin to get a bit dizzying. "Luscious Life" is a feel-good radio anthem in waiting, with Watson's soulful falsetto cooing airy proclamations and emoting like Hawksley Workman. With its steadily building orchestra of instrumentation and chorus of voices, "Drifters" begs to be given a chance to fill up an arena, while "The Great Escape" achieves an understated grace even though it hints at the bombastic balladry of Rufus Wainwright. Close to Paradise is a theatrical coming out party for Patrick Watson and it never fails to excite some new emotion within the listener; it's just plain over the top.

~ Vish Khanna, exclaim.ca

Snow Patrol

"Signal Fire"
from the soundtrack Spider-Man 3 (Music from and Inspired by the Motion Picture)
2007
iTunes

You know you're dealing with a real blockbuster when the soundtrack is made up not only of rocking tracks, but of rocking tracks that were recorded specifically for the movie instead of being fished out of various preexisting albums. (Okay, except for Chubby Checker's "The Twist" -- that one’s not hot off the presses.) Such is the power of Spidey that he inspired the likes of Snow Patrol, the Killers, Jet, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and Wolfmother -- and of course you just have to look at the title of "The Supreme Being Teaches Spider-Man How to Be in Love" to know the song is by the Flaming Lips. The overall mood is less heavy than on the previous soundtrack, with the selection hitting pretty close to an alt-rock bull's eye.

Snow Patrol manage to keep their own identity throughout "Signal Fire" -- not always easy on a franchise soundtrack -- and it's catchier the more times you hear it. Other highlights include "Sealings," a return to form for Yeah Yeah Yeahs, the Walkmen's evocative "Red River," and Jet's "Falling Star," a muscular piece of retro-balladry. Among the oddities are Coconut Records, the new project of actor (and former Phantom Planet member) Jason Schwartzman; its contribution, the lovely "Summer Day," features backup vocals by Kirsten "Mary Jane" Dunst. Still, sometimes a big name is not needed: One of the best tracks, the anthemic "Portrait of a Summer Thief," is by the unsigned Austin band Sounds Under Radio.

~ Amazon.com and musicomh.com

The Brunettes

"Small Town Crew"
from the album Structure & Cosmetics
2007



While I certainly enjoy listening to the Brunettes, I wouldn't want them in my coffee -- they're a tad too sweet for my morning beverage tastes. They've also got a sinister aftertaste under their sugary exterior -- also great for songwriting, bad for my coffee. The complexities of Structure & Cosmetics rely on their abilities to mask themselves. At first listen, it's all sweet pop ditties and handclaps, but it soon dawns on you that these songs are brilliantly experimental works of art more akin to Modern Lovers than early Beach boys. Sure, the Brunettes are built around catchy synthesizer tunes and sunny hooks, but those same songs stop and stutter, using space and sound to create an ethereal effect before (seemingly) bringing it back to basics. The vocal dichotomy between Heather Mansfield's sweet, angelic whisper and Jonathan Bree's coy, aloof crooning makes for some sincere and romantic harmonies. Track after track, the Brunettes combine playful with glorious and romance with deception. You have to listen to it at least twice.

~ Jerome Spencer, portfolioweekly.com

Fiasco

"Nothing to Lose"
from the album God Loves Fiasco
2007



Guitarist Jonathan Edelstein, drummer Julian Bennett Holmes, and bassist Lucien Buscemi (son of Steve) were just 12 years old when they initially formed then StunGun, in between snack time and drum class at a Park Slope band camp. Now 16, and calling themselves Fiasco, the garage punk trio have played New York's CBGB's, Cake Shop, and Studio B.

God Loves Fiasco, a 23-song debut on the band's own Beautiful imprint, is a startlingly good way to get your teenage kicks. The incendiary guitar work, drum thrashing and perceptive lyrics -- including subject matter as diverse as unrequited love for a lesbian titled "Disappointment" and the slinky instrumental "Shot in My Sleep," which was inspired by Buscemi's nightmare vision of Zakk Wylde with a semi-automatic -- echoes everyone from a hormone-drenched Sonic Youth to a youthful-sounding Slint. Standout "Nothing to Lose," trods on classic indie rock aesthetic a la Pavement, as the disaffected chorus repeats "Nothing to lose/Nothing to gain," proving that punk rock and teenage boys go together like PB & J.

While the trio may be the only adolescents to play CBGB's, they aren't the only ones causing a fiasco. Another NYC-based band with the same name was mistakenly booked for a show at the Crash Mansion after a promoter slotted the teens. Spectators anticipating a manic Minutemen-esque set from the precocious punksters were instead treated to fare that sounded more like Duran Duran.

~ Chandler Levack, Spin.com

Matthew Good

"Born Losers"
from the album Hospital Music
2007
iTunes

"Born Losers" is this week's free Single of the Week at iTunes.
Click the link above to get it.

Matthew Good's seventh studio release Hospital Music is based on a premise that no one would wish to be inspired by: Good's overdose, spurred on by a nasty divorce and his ongoing battles with bipolar disorder. As a result, this disc is a dark, deeply intimate collection of music from a singer who has always been clever, but not always this lyrically direct. Sonically, Hospital Music is equally candid; opening track "Champions of Nothing" is a monolithic 9 and a half minutes of passion and processing in which keen-eared listeners can hear Good hyperventilating at the song's end. "She's In It for the Money" is as direct a journal entry as Good has ever penned, singing "I'm in love with your pills/ I tried to get rid of myself" in a voice shaking with passion. Smatterings of sound bytes throughout the disc--akin to whispers of madness--keep it hanging in a perpetual state of unsettledness. There are certainly classic Good tracks, including "99% of Us is Failure" and "The Devil's in Your Details" while "Born Losers" -- the first single -- comes with a surprising country twang. Equally noteworthy is Good's unique choices of cover tunes: "Moon Over Marin" a gorgeous take on a punk rock classic by the Dead Kennedys and the closing number "True Love Will Find You in the End" from Daniel Johnston, a musician who has himself struggled with manic depression throughout his life.

~ Denise Sheppard, Amazon