K Records

Apple Core

mandy — Sat, 16 Oct 2010 08:00:00 +0000

So much folksy lady rock, so little time. Add Kendl Winter’s Apple Core to the ever-lengthening list of guitar-loving, country-inspired singer-songwriters with a flair for bluegrass. It may not be terribly original, but Winter makes a fine effort on her fourth solo album. At times, her work is hauntingly beautiful; at others, it’s frustratingly cliché.

“Everyone’s so avant garde,” Winter sings on “Made It Through the Yellow,” perhaps referring to the sudden rise in folk hipster chic that makes committed musicians cringe. Should there be more beards and flannel on stage or in the crowd? On “Waiting for the Taker,” a would-be somber track about death with a jaunty guitar riff, she reminisces about apple pies, loyal dogs, and droopy-eyed cowboys.

A tribute to the late abortion provider, “Dr. Tiller” is clearly a lovely sentiment, if not the most enchanting song. Descriptive lyrics about the doctor’s murder feel more appropriate for some sort of spoken word tribute. In a song, phrases like “I’m walking through a mob of pro-lifers just to get a pap smear” feel awkwardly earnest and self-referential without any possibility of reaching people unfamiliar with the story or less than sympathetic about George Tiller’s fate.

Winter is a great talent. It isn’t her fault that so many artists in the last few years have grabbed washboards and banjos and sound oh-so-similar in their nature-themed crooning. While I’m perfectly content listening to Apple Core, if I’m looking for folksy jams, I’ll admittedly seek out albums by Mountain Men, Fleet Foxes, or even some old Wilco first.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, October 16th 2010

Gone Are All the Days Remix

priyanka — Mon, 11 Oct 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Mirah

K Records

It’s a hard to imagine releasing a 12” vinyl maxi singles in an MP3-obsessed world, but that’s what K Records have boldly done for Mirah’s remix of "Gone Are All the Days." While angel-voiced Mirah could hardly be compared to club-hit-making ladies such as Lady Gaga or Madonna, this remix tries to come close.

The main track, a disco remix of the song “Gone Are All the Days” from Mirah’s fourth record (a)spera, reworks the otherwise jazzy song into a floor burner. On the original Mirah’s breathy vocals and the piano and jazz bass supporting her make the song sound like it would be at home on a Feist record. Not this one.

According to several music blogs, when the song was performed live it began to take on a disco feeling and so Mirah and her band recorded it in Calvin Johnson’s Dub Narcotic studios as a full-on disco track. It begins with a bouncy beat that at first feels overly typical and almost amateurish, but as the track evolves, so does the beat and the feeling. The song, a dark meditation on times past, mistakes made and feelings changed and lost, becomes a joyous dance floor romp. As the beats pulse and Mirah’s vocals soar above them, the listener can easily picture a club full of sweaty, scantily clad dancers with their hands in the air.

While the indie rock crowd has been obsessed with Mirah since she broke onto the scene with her debut record You Think It’s Like This But Really It’s Like This, the Gone Are All the Days Remix might be her chance to cross over, if only surreptitiously, by a DJ in the know slipping the record onto the turntables for an otherwise unaware crowd. As if inviting further remixing, and providing an example of how to do so, the record also includes a remix by Hooliganship and an all-vocal version of the song. While the additional remixes are interesting in themselves, they tend to get repetitive if one was to listen to the single all the way through. That and it’s 12” vinyl format indicates it would appeal to hardcore Mirah fans, or DJs looking to expand their repertoire.

Written by: Eleanor Whitney, October 11th 2010

Splash

admin — Wed, 25 Aug 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Jeremy Jay

K Records

I spent a few years as a DJ for the college radio station during graduate school, and quickly learned that the fastest, most accurate way to asses if you’ll like an album is to pay attention to the label. If you really dig a band, it’s worth your time to research the label that produces their albums–chances are it will be home to other artists you’ll enjoy. Such is the case for K Records, distributed by Secretly Canadian, and home to some of my favorites like anti-folk heroine Kimya Dawson, dance-pop loveliness The Blow, and low-fi folk rocker Jason Anderson.

It is easy to hear how pop-folk artist Jeremy Jay found a home at K, but if the aforementioned artists are seniors at the top of their class, Jay is a freshman with plenty of room for improvement jotted in his report card. Though Splash is Jay’s third release on K, at just over twenty-five minutes, it plays more like a debut EP. One song is no more diverse or interesting than the last; I was in the middle of track three before I realized the album had played all the way through and was on its second rotation. The album’s title conjures images of excitement and disruption that would be more fitting for an artist poised to make waves. But Jeremy Jay is not that artist.

Every song reflected the influence of another musician, but never did I get a feel for Jay’s own unique voice or style. “Just Dial My Number” is an upbeat, summer ditty but the use of piano is so similar to Peter Bjorn and John’s “Young Ones,” that every time it played I thought I was hearing the latter. There are moments when he channels Morrissey; I even heard a little Tracy Chapman on “Someday Somewhere.” But the most notable comparison is to Magnetic Fields front man, Stephin Merritt. But whereas Merritt’s distinctive bass subtly demands you to pay attention to his lyrics, Jay’s more delicate timbre only adds to the ambiguity of his songwriting.

While he certainly evokes the mood of agenda-free days of exploring the city, the lack of imagery and individuality leaves Splash too malleable to make an impression. It would serve well as a soundtrack to a film where visual images and plot might add some heft and dimension to his sound.

Written by: Alicia Sowisdral, August 25th 2010

The Bundles

admin — Thu, 06 May 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By The Bundles

K Records

I used to have a Livejournal, and Kimya Dawson was on my “friends list,” meaning I could read her journal entries. She was always a cheerful yet honest writer. Kimya shared photos of her lovely self, her bearded-and-bespectacled-husband, and her baby dressed in gender-neutral colors. I quickly admired this plus-sized woman with body modifications and tattoos, going about being a mother, wife, and artist, all in her own way.

Both Kimya's music and overall personality seemed to lack the superficial posturing many other folks demonstrate. Needless to say, I was inspired. Unfortunately, many women completely sacrifice their work (creative and otherwise) in order to care for their families, and I was happy to see Kimya balancing both her family and her art—a difficult task, to say the least. However, to supply time and energy to our loved ones and personal projects, that time and energy needs to be taken away from something, or someone, else.

This leads us to Kimya's latest creative endeavor: performing with a band called The Bundles that consists of Jeffrey Lewis, Jack Lewis, Anders Griffen, and Karl Blau. Although this album is their debut, the group itself is not exactly new. These folks originally started The Bundles about eight years ago, developing songs and performing shows. However, they never actually recorded any of the songs. The band members drifted to solo work and other bands, and it wasn't until recently that they were able to finally come together to record their self-titled album.

Kimya has inspired me yet again by reconnecting with her old friends and finishing what they started a very long time ago. The first song, “A Common Chorus,” tells us from the beginning, “Don't forget about your friends.” Jeffrey Lewis' voice has a Jonathan Richman cadence about it, no matter how heated he gets. Kimya's familiar childlike vocals are alternately soothing and scurrying through the syllables. I was also surprised to hear her growl a little bit on “Ishalicious!”

Aside from trading vocals, Jeffrey and Kimya sometimes clash in complete cacophony. “Shamrock Glamrock” is like listening to all of your pans fall out of the cupboards and hit the linoleum at once. But my favorite sound is when Jeffrey and Kimya harmonize with a full chorus singing in the background.

The Bundles' lyrics often alluded me. Was that “phoenix out of the ash” or “kleenex out of the glass?” My advance promotional copy didn't come with any liner notes. I often picked up on radical references and silly tidbits, like the ones on “Jello Biafra and Hello Kitty.”

Musically speaking, I enjoyed the guitars and drums. They switch from wholesome acoustic chords to floating electric fingering, depending on mood. I can't recall hearing Anders Griffen's drums before, but I'm pretty amazed! It's hard not to play “air drums” to many of these tracks.

“In the Beginning” seems to showcase the best of everyone. The music for “Metal Mouth” is solid, while the lyrics are hilariously juvenile, reminding me of something my heroes, Ween, would do. The ending is “Be Yourself,” which is a mellow sort of “good bye” track.

So there we have it: The Bundles is a fun, capable collection serving as closure for old friends.

Written by: Jacquie Piasta, May 5th 2010

Zebra

admin — Sat, 19 Dec 2009 00:59:00 +0000

By Karl Blau

K Records

“When you hear hoof beats, think horses, not zebras,” admonishes the medical aphorism. There are some quiet percussive hoof beats in “Goodbye Little Song” and other tracks on Karl Blau's new twelve-song release, Zebra.

“Waiting for the Wind” opens with bells that sound like wind chimes and a relaxing vibe. The tempo picks up on “Dark Sedan Returns,” but returns to a righteous sedateness. These are tunes that I wouldn't mind falling asleep to—but in a good way.

The jazz on Zebra is not paint-peeling experimentalism, but strolls between the strangely soporific and strongly folkish. Masterful, evocative, with a kind baritone, the entire project seems somewhat pop-ambient, folk-ambivalent, and has a global flair; the African influence is evident. Karl Blau is a well-traveled musician. He has toured Japan twice, Europe last spring, and both coasts of the United States. He's currently touring with LAKE, but perhaps Africa is next.

“Black with white stripes or white with black stripes?” asks Blau's MySpace page. The alternating stripes mean that this is not a bad zebra to think of.

Written by: Erika Mikkalo, December 18th 2009

Malaikat dan Singa

admin — Sun, 06 Dec 2009 01:00:00 +0000

By Arrington de Dionyso

K Records

The music of Arrington de Dionyso (also of the band Old Time Relijun) lies somewhere in a crazy Venn Diagram where Sonic Youth, Nick Cave (circa The Birthday Party), Miles Davis (circa Bitches Brew), and Jerry Lee Lewis intersect. (Yes, I said Jerry Lee Lewis. If you don’t believe me, check out a live version of Arrington de Dionyso’s “Kedalaman Air,” where he dances around the stage with the same squirrelly eyes and reckless rock-n-roll abandon that Jerry Lee Lewis has when he performs “Whole Lotta Shakin’ Going On.”) Heck, there is even a little bit of the Melvins in there; think “Bar-X the Rocking M” and you would be heading in the right direction. (Arrington uses a bass clarinet rather than a trombone, but I think you get the idea.)

Arrington de Dionyso isn’t exactly rock, and he isn’t exactly jazz. I’m not sure all of it even would fit in the category of “music”—at least, not the kind of music that utilizes the traditional, catchy, verse-chorus-verse format. Listening to de Dionyso, there are many times when it sounds like a band of gypsies and a group of Tibetan monks fell down a flight of stairs, and the sounds they emitted as they tumbled were recorded on a scratchy eight-track.

Perhaps, though, this last analogy doesn’t give enough creative props to the man and his troupe of noise-artists. de Dionyso and his band somehow manage to make cohesive music while also making their instruments sound like they are being jerked into life by Dr. Frankenstein and about three million volts of electricity. It’s as if they created the musical version of H.P. Lovecraft’s “The Rats in the Walls.”

Sure, call it a bit pretentious if you want (Sonic Youth and Nick Cave have both been accused of the same), but how can anyone really claim that this music is pompous when it jangles around like a massive Sasquatch orgasm? I can only hope Arrington de Dionyso will be around for a very long time—if only because I am curious to see what he will come up with next.

Written by: Emily S. Dunster, December 5th 2009

Homemade Ship

admin — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 16:54:00 +0000

By Rose Melberg

K Records

Rose Melberg made a name for herself in the nineties as a singer and guitarist for bands like the Softies, Tiger Trap, and Go Sailor. The prolific Vancouver-based musician has since successfully gone solo. While revered for her talent and earlier output as a band member, Melberg's latest solo release, Homemade Ship, makes a shy, serene entrance and has a difficult time leaving a strong impression.

Homemade Ship is a sparse yet pretty album. The barebones approach Melberg has taken by using only layered vocals and guitar is for both the better and the worse. Reminiscent of Iron & Wine, the album's sparse sound is inherently intimate, and Melberg's lyrics are often personal and heartfelt. In the touching "Truly," Melberg sings, "Come here better to hear me sing/Forget everything/How I made you cry." On "Old Days," Melberg casts a dreamy spell that is full of longing. Aptly named, the album does have a homemade and isolated feel to it. It conjures an image of Melberg cobbling together each track in a small room next to a fire.

But what Homemade Ship gains in simplicity, it seems to lose in dynamism. Larissa Loyva of Kellarissa and P:ano makes an occasional appearance on vocals and piano, but the majority of the album relies solely on Melberg's contributions. It's not that this approach can't work, but Homemade Ship doesn't seem to achieve a cohesive sound with distinct tracks that easily grab the listener. Most of the album's tracks, with their whimsical lyrics and soft guitar strums, could stand on their own, but together, they seem to spill over into each other, creating what often feels like one very long song.

The album is with merit, though. Melberg hasn't made it this far without knowing what she's doing. Homemade Ship is sleepy but not sloppy, lacking in twists but touching nonetheless.

Written by: Beverly Jenkins-Crockett, November 9th 2009

Ribbon of Fear

admin — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 08:52:00 +0000

By Hornet Leg

K Records

Ribbon of Fear is a totally solid K Records release that places emphasis on humble production and a certain lo-fi artistic quality. My partner, endlessly amused by my penchant for unsophisticated music, asked if K Records isn’t “that label that will put out anything.” While I did mockingly protest, for a band on the label, the difference between recording in a studio or a basement is negligible. Hornet Leg—a band comprised of Portland, Oregon transplants—is no different.

The album title—and the title track—refer to the lyric, “Sometimes she cries a ribbon of fear.” In fact, most of the songs are named after their own lyrics. “Wait” talks about waiting. “Ruined My Life” is about how “It’s so hard to say/But I think I ruined my life.” I’m also pretty sure there’s a reference to unplanned pregnancy in there—a feminist topic if there ever was one. “Snake Oil” references nostrums. You get the idea.

The band mixes elements of 1960s rockabilly with influences like the New York Dolls and The Shaggs. While the Hornet Leg pastiche may not be wholly original—the vocals are not always harmonious, and the production is not always tight—that doesn’t stop Hornet Leg from having fun making a hell of a nice debut album. Listening to their jams on a chilly Sunday night, curled up with a mug of chamomile tea and my knitting, I felt like the house party had come to my place. Not bad for a drowsy evening on the sofa.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, October 27th 2009

New Universe

admin — Sat, 03 Oct 2009 23:19:00 +0000

By Desolation Wilderness

K Records

A few years back, when I was considerably less tied down by things like work, a couple of friends and I endeavored to take a road trip from Seattle to Aurora, Colorado. Something about Desolation Wilderness' New Universe reminds me about that trip. It was about 500 degrees outside, and my car didn't have air conditioning. We drove ninety-five miles an hour the whole way there and back with all four windows down. There were frequently no other cars on the road with us–just miles and miles and miles of shimmering blacktop, dust, sagebrush, and antelope.

Desolation Wilderness sounds like pie in a creepy diner somewhere in Utah. They sound like a sweaty night camped out in a Wal-Mart parking lot in the middle of an endless sea of cattle ranches and gritty old men in Wrangler jeans. They sound like wind that blows in your car window and feels like the breath of a hot furnace. They sound like rusted springs and engine parts to a 1982 Ford pickup truck.

However, Desolation Wilderness also doesn't sound like all of those things–not really. The dust and heat and rusty springs and old trucks and creepy diners are seen only through a fine layer of Visqueen. They're like a fuzzy Super 8mm film of a picnic in 1968 (in fact, their video for “Come Over in Your Silver Car”—from their previous album White Light Strobing—looks like it is shot in 8 mm). There are no sharp edges or punchy lines delivered by vocals or guitar. Instead, both are manipulated by an endless parade of analog devices, creating a cool, dreamlike ambiance.

Desolation Wilderness’ jangly reverb-box guitar sound fits perfectly with a car ride on a hot day down a lonely road in the middle of nowhere with your feet sticking out the passenger-side window—or, at least, in a vague, hazy memory of one.

Written by: Emily S. Dunster, October 3rd 2009

C'est La Dernière Chanson

admin — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 22:57:00 +0000

By Maher Shalal Hash Baz

K Records

When the songs on Maher Shalal Hash Baz’s latest release, C'est La Dernière Chanson, last longer than thirty-seven seconds, they are very enjoyable. The eighteenth record for the band is a two disc album consisting of a total of 277 songs ranging from a confusing eleven seconds of horns and drums to three minutes and one second of musical pleasure. Founded by Tori Kudo, the group is now centered around a core group of three musicians (Tori, his wife Reiko Kudo, and Hiroo Nakazaki), but Maher Shalal Hash Baz’s lineup has changed over the band’s eighteen years with a steady stream of incoming and outgoing talent.

The English translation of the Japanese group’s name seems as mysterious as it does in the original Hebrew. Taken from Isaiah 8:1 and 8:3, the name means, “Hurrying to the spoil, he has made haste to the plunder." Musically, however, the band has concocted a multi-genre dish of musical flavor. A catchy jazz base is typically sprinkled with folk and peppered with unique rock overtones. Many of the short songs are congruent in their frequent bursts of a-tonal arrangement, yet maintain an endearing quality. The occasional vocal tracks are equally intriguing in Japanese and English, whether you understand or not.

Currently, the only song available on the group’s Myspace page, "Joab," is longer (three times longer) than many compositions on C'est La Dernière Chanson and is from a different record. At the same time, it still gives an accurate taste of what you may be biting off with this newest release. Something about Maher Shalal Hash Baz’s noise is so painfully cute that even the parts that don’t sound good feel strangely pleasant.

I strongly recommend investing nine minutes in "Joab" to see whether or not you can live without this band.

Written by: Tatiana Ryckman, September 15th 2009

A Ways Away

admin — Sun, 02 Aug 2009 09:11:00 +0000

By Tara Jane O'Neil

K Records

I think I’m genetically predisposed to rock; it’s in my blood or something. I want things to be loud, sometimes fast, and always frantic. I like it when a bass line’s so fat you can feel it in your crotch. I like it when guitars rip through your eardrums. I especially like it when a drum beat is so loud you can mistake it for your own pulse. I want to hear something in the singer’s voice that essentially says, “I will sing these words as if my life depends on it.”

There are exceptions, of course, like when I listen to Elliott Smith, though it could be said the same rules apply—just in reverse. The quieter and more timid music is, the more crazed I feel. Tara Jane O’Neil’s fifth album is definitely in the “softer” category of music. It did not turn me into the crazed, emotional wreck I often become after the first chords of “Needle in the Hay,” but A Ways Away is pretty in its own distinct way.

I expect a lot of female singer-songwriters. Some might say that makes me sexist, but I just say it makes me demanding. I don’t want cliché, Lilith Fair-type, boyfriend-inspired angst, and I definitely don’t want watered down, Top 40 love ballads. I just want the music to be real and achingly beautiful. I want it to perfectly encapsulate something unique to the female experience, is that too much to ask?

TJO’s album has a quiet power that’s hard to describe. I, to this day, don’t know any of the lyrics on A Ways Away even after repeated listens, but each and every song on the record sounds like a lovesick lullaby for grownups. There are gentle, reverberating sounds everywhere, and shaky, childlike singing. If you close your eyes long enough while listening to “Dig In” or “Pearl into Sand,” you begin to think of first kisses, the electricity of love, and long, warm summers that were spent doing nothing in particular yet still managed to feel larger than life. I don’t know about you, but I’m of the opinion that that’s a major accomplishment for a timid little record.

Written by: Tina Vasquez, August 2nd 2009

Rotting Slowly

admin — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 00:08:00 +0000

By The Curious Mystery

K Records

Their name, Curious Mystery says so much. Curious instrumentation crossed with a mysterious sound as they fearlessly cover the gamut—a grab bag of indie noise rock, folk, psychedelia, country, and blues. It all works whether it’s attributed to their experimentation of sounds, or that they are just an experimental bunch, a breath of fresh air in an arguably stale climate. Trying to describe their genre to potential fans is like reciting a Last.fm blogroll; they would certainly reign with the most listings.

The title of their debut album, Rotting Slowly, makes sense too. Upon first listen, you can picture the moldy deterioration of Seattle area homes amidst damp cold oblivion. You feel the frigid night air as it travels to the bone, yet the shock is so invigorating that you’re ultimately left pining for more.

This four piece band includes Shana Cleveland and Nicolas Gonzales on vocals and guitar, along with Bradford Button on bass and Faustine B. Hudson on percussion. It’s the booming percussion and sedate vocals that drive the idiosyncrasies in their overall sound. The band does happen to call Seattle their home and you hear the influence of fuzzy guitar garage rock with languid apathetic vocals. But what makes it all compelling is their intoxicating love of roots music with an added country twang peppered with an array of homemade instruments.

The song structures are chaotic, heavy and rival label-mate Deerhoof with obscure time changes. Shared vocal duties between Cleveland and Gonzales are countered with bluesy instrumentals, all delightfully erratic and somewhat out of tune. “Dragon’s Crotch” and “Nicaragua” both automatically earn kudos for creatively awesome song titles, but also propitiously envelop these complex sonic textures with the help of an autoharp and a bluesy slide guitar. “It’s Tough” begins with a poppy blues riff, then jumps ship and evolves into an alluring almost cinematic chant. Cleveland’s coughing just out of the mic’s reach is an endearing addition to the organic edginess. “Black Sand” displays her inner Cat Power: beautifully brooding, stormy and tempestuous. The jam session between Hudson and Cleveland is a tousled impromptu alliance emulating the Memphis soul/rock grooves effortless honed by Steve Cropper and Al Jackson Jr. The beginning of “Outta California” makes you want to jump in your car and head up the interstate at suicidal speeds; it then shifts gears unexpectedly with slow slide guitars and longing, impervious vocality.

All in all, _Rotting Slowly _leaves you in a haze as you decipher the eccentric song structures with a mishmash of influential genres. Through the dismal landscape, Cleveland and Hudson take command of this outfit as their ingenious styling effortlessly support and drive the other. One can only wonder just how many more genres they can effortlessly weave into their aforementioned grab bag.

Written by: Cat Veit, July 5th 2009

Down With Liberty...Up With Chains!

admin — Wed, 06 May 2009 23:30:00 +0000

By Chain and The Gang

K Records

Certain record labels have a sound that courses like an undercurrent through all of their releases. Others have an image to uphold. K Records has both. Founded in 1982 by Beat Happening's Calvin Johnson and featuring a roster that includes Mirah, Kimya Dawson, and the All Girl Summer Fun Band, K Records has a long-standing reputation for being indie, lo-fi, and proud of it. So it makes perfect sense that staunchly DIY musician Ian Svenonius—an artist with a unique sound also motivated by an agenda—would work time and again with the label.

According to Wikiquote, there are a number of variant phrases attributed to anarchist Emma Goldman about getting down when things get hot. The one that sounds most like the guiding philosophy of Chain and the Gang founder Svenonius is as follows: “If I can't dance, it's not my revolution!” Based out of Corruption Land, USA (also known as Washington D.C.), this has been Svenonius' unrelenting position for a couple of decades. Band after band—from the post-hardcore punishment of Nation of Ulysses to the self-proclaimed “Gospel Yeh-Yeh” of The Make-Up, from the indie sounds of Weird War and now to his latest outing, Chain and the Gang—Svenonius has made it his populist musical mission to take this tired old boring world out at the knees.

That being said, Down With Liberty... Up With Chains! is only somewhat serviceable as a soundtrack for smashing The State. This is an album full of seemingly simple repetitive electro-informed Brit soul-style garage rock dealing with complex subject matter (progress, the financial system, technology) in a gleefully irreverent way. Writing this review at the job that pays my bills, I feel slightly rebellious— dangerous, even—for listening to something so doggedly anti-establishment. Mostly, though, I am just reminded of my continual guilt at working for “The Man” to maintain the status quo. Which is, I gather, the exact sort of response Svenonius would want me to have.

Personal favorites include “Interview With the Chain Gang,” an innovative yet self-aware tune summoning up questions the band is likely to get from the music press, and “Unpronounceable Name,” a herky-jerky ditty that reminds me of those old-school no-wave sensations James Chance & the Contortions. Less entertaining is “What Is A Dollar?” a cheap and all-too familiar shot at capitalism full of tired sentiments that could make Jello Biafra roll his eyes. Still, it's a tidy and short album. Except for “Deathbed Confession,” a loose spoken-word song about those faceless evildoers we're always told the CIA hires to do their dirty work, all the songs are under five minutes; the whole thing clocks in at just under thirty-seven minutes. It won't be for everyone, as not everyone likes being beaten over the head with dogma, but if you dig gettin' down to a decidedly anti-authoritarian beat, this might be right up your alley.

Written by: M. Brianna Stallings, May 6th 2009

(a)spera

admin — Sun, 19 Apr 2009 10:39:00 +0000

By Mirah

K Records

Lush, sonic waves are a departure from the four-track loving woman who previously sang about an anonymous character—“Person Person”—and this is where we must weigh in on what I’ll call the Jefferson debate. Perhaps you’re old enough to have been a Jefferson Airplane fan back when Grace Slick’s voice hadn’t been co-opted by '80s synth. Perhaps you don’t think it was fair for the band to switch directions and keep the Jefferson moniker when Starship was born. If you stick with a band long enough, you’ll either grow alongside them, appreciating their subtle changes. Alternately, you’ll curse your longtime favorite for selling out, or not staying the known course.

This is an extreme example, for Ms. Zeitlyn is not Ms. Slick, nor has she become a psych rocker writing songs about how cities were built. But both women are known in their respective communities for their striking vocals and full-bodied work. (a)spera, while absolutely beautiful, is not 2000’s You Think It's Like This but Really It's Like This. To expect such would be unfair.

Recession-appropriate “Generosity” finds Mirah debating whether to give or take. In fact, much of the album could be viewed in light of our current global financial situation—songs like “The World is Falling” and “Country of the Future” among the potentially ominously-titled tracks—but then, are album reviews always supposed to be so contextual? Maybe the Mirah conglomerate is always tossing around ideas about pre-apocalyptic times, regret, and scarcity. Maybe as you age, your worldview simply becomes more jaded.

The album is a hopeful melancholy with a bright spots. “Gone Are The Days” features a horn section that would make any airport lounge jazz-fusion band jealous. “Bones and Skin,” while somber, encourages you to approach your own demons, to not forget who you are. “While We Have The Sun” encourages outdoor walks because, “You never know when temperamental weather’s gonna come.” The song also offers some hope to overachievers, promising (or reminding), “It’s not up to you to make the flowers wilt or bloom.”

It’s easy to forget how long twelve years can be. Some of us live several lifetimes in that span. It isn’t so strange that in some ways, Mirah has journeyed so far from her roots. While I have no qualms with her new (a)spirations, my hope is that she’ll soon circle back.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, April 19th 2009

Oh, The Places We’ll Go

admin — Wed, 28 Jan 2009 10:00:00 +0000

By LAKE

K Records

It isn’t an accident when my music reviews start to sound the same. I know what I like: progressive hip-hop, experimental electronica, dance-punk, woodsy indie folk, baroque pop, and twee from the Pacific Northwest. My partner teases me that all of my music has to be good for one of three things, if not a combination of them: dancing, driving long distances, and effecting social change. At least I know what does it for me.

LAKE and their newest album, Oh, The Places We’ll Go (named for the Dr. Seuss book of the name title), come courtesy of Olympia, Washington’s twee arbiters K Records. For me, it falls distinctly into the “great driving music” category, upbeat and charming without too much fuss. Not to be confused with the German Krautrock band Lake, this bouncy, fun release from LAKE mixes the band’s own songwriting abilities with sounds from influences like Architecture in Helsinki and Kimya Dawson. While some may find dueling male and female vocals confusing, I like this gendered equality, the ability to jockey for space within one song.

The album starts off lively and keeps its pace on the short album. “Blue Ocean Blue,” the most melodically pleasing song, comes complete with handclaps and the endearing, existential lyrics, “Always looking to obscure the most beautiful things/Well, I guess that is your right/Unexplainable emotions pushing you to the wall/Coming up chasing unattainable light.” It’s the kind of lovely track you stick on a mix CD of otherwise recognizable songs and wait for your friends to ask, “What is this?” Not to only focus on the album’s sort of single, “Counting” is the most catchy, danceable track with guitar solos and well, more handclaps. Musicians don’t get much happier than this.

I have no doubt you’ll find yourself slapping the steering wheel if you throw this in while cruising around. A more harmonious Beat Happening, a less complicated Belle and Sebastian, LAKE is twee pop at its finest.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, January 28th 2009