Royal City

admin — Tue, 30 Jun 2009 09:38:00 +0000

Whenever I’m having an existential crisis sort of day—yes, it can come in daily doses—listening to songs like Iggy Pop’s “Success” soothes my insecurities and favors my sardonic humor that is both a coping mechanism and a genetic condition.

How fortuitous then, among the early tracks from Canadian band Royal City, is a humorously lo-fi cover of Mr. Pop’s infectious tune. Such a cynical collection of sad tunes may be easy to find; yet when has it forced me to listen with such a critical ear?

Royal City is one of those bands who just happened to release a catchy album during my stint as a college radio manager, thereby solidifying their place on any mixed tape—or CD or mp3 mix, as it has become—I made in the next five years. Known to include “Bad Luck” to throw off my dearest music snob friends, I always thought of the track as my own personal indie folk-rock one-hit wonder. A hit and a wonder if you like my mixes, I suppose.

On this collection of b-sides, you can hear the now-defunct band in raw form. This is good and bad—good if you like unpolished gems, bad if you like listenable singles. “They Came Down,” while a great track, is quite bleak in its repetition of the line, “It gets so depressing...down here.” “Postcards” is another lovely, sad song, explaining that old mementos are not necessary reminders of one man’s misery.

_I don’t need pictures of you or postcards from you
I don’t need nothing at all
To remind me I’m blue for you

My old favorite, “Bad Luck,” even makes the list, though pared down in a way I’m glad was changed for its inclusion on Alone at the Microphone.

Royal City isn’t an album of background music, which is what makes it so appealing. Try as I might, I couldn’t work with it on in the background. Turn it up or turn it off because you’re going to be distracted and fussy if you try for middle ground. Maybe you should just accept your Weltschmerz like I do. You might find you appreciate apathetic youthful misery music like I do. Your fate could be worse.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, June 30th 2009

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

dark folk

Royal City

On The Ground