Paper Garden Records

Bad City

admin — Mon, 03 May 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Saadi is in love with music. It's fun to guess where the loops and tracks come from on their debut album, Bad City. Their influences are far-ranging, and combine '70s dance, '80s synth, choir vocals, and traditional Arabic music.

The title track is a solid dance anthem. The song's companion remix is particularly hot, too. It evokes a busy cityscape inflected with tribal beats.

"Birds" reminds me of Blondie dancing to a slower tempo around her heart of glass. In "Pollen-Seeking Bees," I think the DJ stumbled upon an endearing piano piece and wanted to put it to use somehow. If this album is a dance party, then "Pollen-Seeking Bees" is the book-reading wallflower refusing beer at said party.

The final track is a cover of Bob Dylan's "Daddy You've Been On My Mind." This is not just another sober guest on this album, but a surprisingly somber one as well. This song is filled with choir vocals and heartfelt sentiment. Saadi's vocals seem to be pleading, eulogistic, or possibly both.

It is unclear who "Daddy" is to Saadi. Maybe it's her father, or a nickname for some other (presumably male) person in her life. I'm leaning towards it being her father, because she references to "the language of my father" in the title track. Regardless, Saadi's unique take on this often revisited classic made me feel both moved and empathetic.

Bad City is not a bad album. It's well mixed with interesting sources, floating vocals, and an overall smooth disposition. However, they're difficult to pigeonhole into a particular genre due to the diversity and disparateness of their influences and sound. Sometimes they make me want to dance; at other times, I ruminate with their hymns. I don't think Saadi wants to be limited by category or genre, although they do give the impression that they're still exploring their signature sound.

Written by: Jacquie Piasta, May 2nd 2010

Shady Retreat

admin — Sun, 04 Apr 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Peasant

Paper Garden Records

Here’s the dilemma: I like a lot of divergent genres. Living in northern Europe the past eighteen months, I’ve been able to embrace my unabashed love of electronic club music and synthpop. I live in the birthplace of Eurovision, in the land of ABBA. Well, I’m twenty miles south of Sweden, but you get the idea.

My partner and I are making plans to move home within the calendar year, though “home” may become anywhere from NYC to Silicon Valley because he’s a start-up guy looking for funding. On an intercontinental phone call with my Indiana-based best friend the other night, I lamented how much I would miss The Voice, a European answer to what MTV was when it actually played music. I can switch on the appallingly commercial station at almost any hour of the day and catch a mix of Danish bubblegum pop, American hip-hop, and French club music. “When I get back, I’ll have to go back to listening to my college radio cry rock again,” I moaned to my pal, only then fully realizing just how far removed I’d become from the world I’d once inhabited.

To ease back into the idea of being stateside, I’ve been listening to Peasant. A bit more heavy-handed production-wise compared to Damien Derose’s first album, Shady Retreat is an excellent follow-up for folks who dig mellow songwriter jams—or people like me, who have to force themselves back into a once-loved genre.

The opening track, “Thinking,” starts rather abruptly, almost as though the producer meant to fade up the track but got excited at the last minute. Thankfully, other songs make up for the unsettling intro. “Prescriptions” is a cross between mellow folk-rock and a country ballad, complete with the clop-clop horse trotting sound effect in the background. It may be nothing more elaborate than a block being hit with a stick a la elementary school music class, but it produced an endearing, lo-fi quality for a wanna-be country gal like myself. I even felt my own Midwestern instincts kicking back in as I listened to “Into the Woods.” “Don’t go out into the woods,” Derose croons. No joke. I can get behind staying home where it’s safe and warm.

If you think you’re a club kid who hates sad bastard singer-songwriters, think again.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, April 4th 2010

Western Theater

admin — Thu, 01 Apr 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Mighty Tiger

Paper Garden Records

Mighty Tiger are the sort of band to open for Animal Collective or Grizzly Bear on tour—and not just because of their similar four-legged names. It’s easy to compare bands in folksy sub-genres, but the truth is, Mighty Tiger are a solid pop-driven fit among more established bands of similar persuasion.

On Western Theater, Mighty Tiger do what other comparable bands do not. They lean on alt-country traditions and add a layer of pop jubilance that makes their folk-country rock a pleasantly danceable treat. This Seattle-based quintet also creates soothing harmonies a la Sufjan Stevens, whereas their freak folk counterparts often make discordant, if enjoyable, sounds.

Maybe because I recently started trying my hand at chess again, board tucked away since childhood battles against my father, the song “Rook and King” drew me in almost immediately. The song also rhymes “Alsatian” and “fornication,” which is somehow incredibly endearing. I should dust off my rhyming dictionary along with my pawns.

Another favorite, the seven-minute “The Most American Thing in America,” would be a perfect addition to a moody, road-trip-ready mix-tape. Admittedly, I haven’t had a tape player in my car since 2000, and even then, I was pretty old school for carting around cassettes of indie hits compiled by friends with far superior tastes. Nevertheless, epic songs make me smile, and this one is no exception. Over and over, the guys repeat, “And we won’t hold on for too long.” I’m all for closure.

On tour this spring in southern and western regions, you can catch Mighty Tiger at South By Southwest and elsewhere, with support from Grand Hallway.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, April 1st 2010

Listen

admin — Fri, 26 Mar 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Emanuel and The Fear

Paper Garden Records

Initially, I was put off by Emanuel and The Fear. I didn’t understand their show tunes inspiration, their jaunty piano melodies, and their choral backing. It’s been a long road from the high school show choir stage to the sofa where I sit today, and it took several weeks for Listen to grow on me. Once it did, it was a like a viral infection for which there is no cure.

Emanuel and The Fear sound like some combination of The Mountain Goats meets Bowie meets The Polyphonic Spree meets Hedwig And The Angry Inch. (Throw in some Arcade Fire for good measure.) Epic, sweeping melodies complete with cymbal clashes blend rather comfortably with mostly-spoken lyrics. The album—a neverending musical storytelling exercise if there ever was one—is best played in one steady stream, no skipping tracks, no searching for radio-ready singles. For this reason alone, I can only imagine how amazing Emanuel and The Fear—all eleven of them—are in concert.

Though all the songs fit together seamlessly, “Jimme’s Song” was an immediate favorite with Jimme lamenting, via Emanuel, “I don’t want to do nothing but be in a rock band/I don’t wanna get a job/I don’t wanna be a man.” Thankfully—for me, if not for my partner—this anti-adult sentiment doesn’t describe my ex-boyfriends so much as it describes me. Sometimes I am so freaking pleased that I don’t conform to daily wage slavery in a cubicle; other days, it seems a little too obvious that I am over-educated and under thirty. All I want is a metaphorical rock band—the real one, not that video game fakery—to be my job, to pay the bills. Instead, I review albums. We all make compromises.

Similarly, “Free Life” speaks to the ways you can take control of your own destiny. “It’s a free life if you live it/Why not give it a try.” For all the unfortunate things I have been in my life, the worst thing I’ve ever been was confined.

“Same Way” also speaks to my romantic-but-partnered heart—as if one supersedes the other. To no one’s surprise, I am the downer half of the couple, the misanthrope who cries for no reason and will never be satisfied with my own twisted version of “success.” Just the other night, I was actively frowning (not that I noticed), and my partner leaned over to look at my glum face. “It’s really hard,” he said with total sympathy.” “What is?” I asked. “To be happy.”

How you can’t seem to be happy
Unless you’re making some poor girl feel the same
But I don’t wanna be that way
So if you gotta leave me babe
I won’t say anything

With an impressively generous nineteen songs on one album, Emanuel and The Fear remind me of all the reasons I fell in love with the total album experience as a youngster. Catch them on tour this spring and tell me how much you loved the show.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, March 26th 2010

On The Ground

admin — Wed, 04 Mar 2009 00:09:00 +0000

By Peasant

Paper Garden Records

Damien DeRose, the musician and songwriter behind the Peasant name, could be any hybrid of melancholy and charming—The Shins meets the late Elliott Smith—a consumable sadness that Wes Anderson will no doubt eventually co-opt for a postmodern movie soundtrack. While I know this observation may not be a unique one, Peasant has already reached high-minded and popular audiences on National Public Radio's Second Stage and TV shows like The United States of Tara and Bones. I wouldn't be surprised if DeRose ends up on tour opening for Iron and Wine, or Bon Iver. Folk hipsters love a working class acoustic guitar strummer. Beards are the new black unless you're so cool, you've already moved on.

The first time I listened to this album, I was sobbing by track three. More related to my own circumstances than the melancholy sounds of On The Ground, it is nevertheless certifiable sad bastard indie folk rock. You can decide whether or not this is an endorsement.

Despite my cheerless reaction, the second album from Peasant combines soulful crooning with melodic bursts that I suspect are meant to inspire and hearten sad folk like me, with the songs offering a nod of somber solidarity. On "Exposure," DeRose explains that he's hiding from that exact thing, which makes me think how much I agree as I look for some cozy blankets under which to hide. "Fine Is Fine" finds our peasant wishing for simpler existence—"Can't we just be friends?"—instead of the monotony of discussing life's administrative details. "Those Days," refers to how "hazy" life can be. Is confusion really supposed to be so elegant? At least someone can make it sound that way.

Out on Paper Garden Records, a tiny Nashville label committed to environmental consciousness, the most earth-friendly purchase of this album would be in digital form.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, March 3rd 2009