EP

Hunting My Dress

farhana — Mon, 21 Feb 2011 08:00:00 +0000

Attention wiccans and hippies—Jesca Hoop’s Hunting My Dress (with Bonus EP) is your new theme music. Ethereal and bluesy, this nine-track album and folksy five song EP are a call to light incense, join a drum circle and bake your own bread.

Hunting My Dress is Hoop’s second full-length album. Her musical career commenced in 2003 when Tom Waits (she had worked as a nanny for his children) endorsed her work. This high-profile support led to an EP Silverscreen Demos in 2004 and later the 2007 critically-acclaimed album Kismet. Another EP, Kismet Acoustic followed in 2008.

From the pagan-sounding chorus of “Whispering Light” to the hushed madrigal vibe of the title track on Hunting My Dress, Hoop shows an interest in the album as a cohesive art form. Instead of staying in the realm of random plays on an iPod, Hoop’s songs speak to each other with a surreal lyricism, creating an otherworldly narrative of medieval kingdoms, long-distance lovers, childhood trees, and old-school stereos.

There’s more mysticism in Hoop’s lyrics than an Anne Rice novel: “Under the spell of full November moon/ light on the broom/ frost in my room/ in through a window came a ghost I knew.”

Musical influences abound in her work—many of the songs on Hunting My Dress are reminiscent of other artists. “Angel Mom” recalls the vocals of Kate Bush—plaintive and mournful. Hoop’s matter-of-fact guitar and vocals on “Bed Across the Sea” evoke Ani DiFranco. Lusty and percussion-driven, “Four Dreams” recollects Jane’s Addiction's Ritual de lo Habitual. Yet these diverse influences create an indefinite persona—if Hoop can be all of these artists, then who is she outside of them? Another example of this artistic ambiguity is the brogue that appears in a few songs. Hoop is an American living in England—so (like Madonna before her) she has clearly picked up an accent.

Is she British or not British? Is she Kate Bush or Jane’s Addiction? It’s not that Hoop can’t be both or all of the above. But at some point, an artist has to move away from her influences to determine her identity. Hoop tries on different musical styles in Hunting My Dress and they all fit perfectly. However, her creative forces—the lyrical narratives, mysticism and expansive sense of musical experimentation—will be obscured if she continues to only echo other artists.

An untitled Bonus EP is included with Hunting My Dress. Three Kismet songs, a B-side from the UK version of Hunting My Dress, and collaboration with Blake Mills makes up the compilation.

First-time listeners experience a less mystic Hoop on this EP, and fans who know her music can re-visit the directness of her earlier pop-folk style. The roots of Hoop’s experimentation can be heard in “Enemy,” an indie-ballad in the key of Liz Phair, but the EP revels in guitar and vocals. Stand-outs are the buoyant love song “My Boo” and the alternative rock duet “Wintersong.”

Hunting My Dress and the Bonus EP show different sides of Jesca Hoop. Folk singer and pagan chorus, she is unafraid of exploring musical styles. As Hoop develops as an artist, it will be fascinating to see which style becomes her own.

Written by: Andrea Dulanto, February 21st 2011

Oh, Hear the Wind Blow

brittany — Sun, 12 Sep 2010 02:00:00 +0000

By The Chapin Sisters

Lake Bottom Records

The West Coast, indie feel to the Chapin Sister’s album Oh, Hear the Wind Blow could easily have made it my pick for this year’s perfect summer album. Sadly, it’s September as I write this, and soon flip-flops will make way for boots. However, I suggest you squeeze the last rays out of summer with this album.

The Sisters are nieces of musician Harry Chapin and the daughters of Tom Chapin. Their musical family and the thorough musical training they received as a result shines in their pieces. Simple instrumentation, easy-going rhythms, and the sisters’ reedy and mellow harmonies carry on the tradition of American music while incorporating a modern-folk-pop flavor. On some tracks, Abigail and Lily are joined by their other sister, Jessica Craven. Their instrumentalists are The Brothers Brothers: Dan Horne on bass, Louis Stephens on the keys, and Aaron Sperske on the drums.

Their tambourines and “ooh wa’s” on “Left All Alone,” echo the style of Zooey Deschanel, currently in vogue as the lead singer of the band She + Him (with whom the Sisters toured this last spring). The lilting melody and Stephens’ stylings on the keyboard of “Let Me Go” and the slowly rollicking guitar progression on “Palm Tree” drew upon the sound of their uncle’s generation. The exposed melody and chant line of “Digging a Hole,” combined with the almost tribal percussion stands out as the most unique song on the album. The lyrics are worth a listen as well, drawing on an attitude of strength and folk-inspired images of the natural world.

From the lovely handmade appearance of the cover art to the familiar and familial bond of perfect harmony, this album carries the Chapin signature and fuses it with the new era of American music.

Written by: Cristin Colvin, September 11th 2010

Rockets EP

brittany — Thu, 09 Sep 2010 18:00:00 +0000

By Boris Smile

Count Your Lucky Stars Records

Go outside. Look up. What do you see? What do you think (or wish or hope) sees us? At their most basic, those are the questions that have motivated humankind to create, to believe, and to explore since it first dawned on us to look up.

The famous opening phrase of Star Trek is “Space—the final frontier.” With its awe-struck yet determined delivery, the line presents space as the last, most daunting stop on humanity's Manifest Destiny Tour. Space is the only thing that remains to be conquered—at least in the realm of schlocky sci-fi TV.

In the world of music, however, space as an extended metaphor for love, loss, alienation, and the Other is well-traveled territory; it's cliché at this point. Just because something has been done to death, however, doesn't mean that it cannot be tweaked slightly, then polished up and trotted out one more time. Example? Take a listen to the Rockets EP, the latest release from California group Boris Smile.

“Satellites” starts quietly with what sound like recordings of astronauts reporting back to Earth. It then swells to an orchestral crescendo underscored with radio feedback, goes quiet again, then scratches back to loud with radio distortion.

Including Rockets, Boris Smile has four releases under its belt: two albums and two EPs. The song “Adventures With Rockets” has appeared on three of those; here, it's appropriately billed as being “[Revisited].” It also features the touchingly self aware lyric “The stars are in your eyes/and that's just a stupid pick-up line/but I'll use it since there are no planets in sight.”

Lyrically, “Apollo” is a direct descendant of David Bowie's “Space Oddity” or Elton John's “Rocket Man.” The song's narrative depicts an astronaut saying goodbye to his wife and kids before rocketing off to the heavens. It's bittersweet and direct, albeit familiar.

With its simple imagist lyrics written in rhyming couplets, “Are We Alone?” feels spare, despite the horn section tooting in the background. It's all existential angst here: “One small voice in a silent black/scream and shout, but it won't talk back.”

The only song that breaks with the spacey theme is “Aurora,” an extended metaphor for the complementary dynamic of a romantic relationship. It relies less on space similes and more on imagery drawn from the natural world. With its joyous sing-along ending, “Aurora” reminds me of The Polyphonic Spree or Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros.

Clocking in at over twelve minutes, “8.24.06 (The Humbling of a Planet)” is the longest track on the EP. It includes another version of the third track, “Apollo,” then moves on to an extended metaphor about growing up and sending a mouse into space as an adolescent proxy. I wonder: why repeat “Apollo” when there's little variation between the two versions? Why not make the twee mouse metaphor song its own track?

Rockets is an above-average sampling of expansive indie pop. Despite contagious harmonies and quality wall-of-sound instrumentation, its tired space metaphor, navel-gazing lyrics and lackluster final track renders all that joy just a little cloying in the end.

Written by: M. Brianna Stallings, September 9th 2010

Masks EP

admin — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 09:00:00 +0000

By Double Dagger

Thrill Jockey

At best, the EP is a misunderstood, wondrous short form sampling of a band’s experimentation between full-length albums. At worst, it’s a disc of cutting room floor material that should have stayed in the waste bin. Double Dagger’s Masks EP is not only the former; it’s one of the better post-punk collections to land in my iTunes in a while.

While “Song for S” is an interlude jam, “Imitation Is The Most Boring Form of Flattery” brings to mind a mix of math rock and a late ‘90s punk rock show in a Midwestern all-ages venue. Strange reference? I was there. It’s the best comparison I know.

“Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing” is a high-energy screamfest with a confusing metaphor about surprising everyone with your understated, underdeveloped potential. “I’m gonna be the next big thing/A sheep in wolf’s clothing” repeats the chorus, causing me to wonder: am I already wearing the wolf’s clothing? Then why would I aspire to conformity?

Clocking in at six minutes, “Sleeping With The TV On” sounds like Slint’s “Good Morning, Captain” meets Fugazi’s The Argument. Punk is known for ridiculously short tracks, but the very existence of post-punk breaks that rule. Double Dagger do right by this epic-length lover with a ballad about dual lives wrapped in shouts about sleeping in the screen’s glow and not wanting to go home. I listened to the six minutes of angst and frustration on repeat for days.

For design geeks in the know, it’s possible to confuse the Double Dagger punk trio with the typography of the same name—or with the design company, Post Typography, which is run by the band’s vocalist Nolen Strals and bassist Bruce Willen. The name seems like a nod to post-punk, and I am once again reminded—my writer/animal caretaker self—that doing what you love can mean multiple manifestation of the same creative spirit. The team even wrote a manifesto that begins, “Typography is dead. You have killed it.” Even if you state your politics front and center, you can succeed in this world. A message of hope in a post-hope era.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, March 10th 2010

Dude Manor

admin — Wed, 05 Aug 2009 00:30:00 +0000

By Living With Lions

Adeline Records

Dude Manor is the first-ever record that reminds me of my age, and tells me that I am no longer in my twenties. Listening to the EP is like hearing dozens of bands you’ve heard before. This sort of familiarity, however, brings you closer to the EP. If Living With Lions is aware of this then it is a marketing strategy that could make or break the group’s career.

Opening with an intro that lasts for fifty seconds, this is a premonition of things to come. Dude Manor is noisy, it is fun, and it is testosterone-heavy—and there’s nothing wrong with that. It evokes memories of punk in the ’70s, shades of ’80s post-punk, and a dash of indie rock and grunge in the ’90s. In the end, labeling doesn’t matter anymore. Matt Postal’s guttural screaming compliments Stu McKillop’s boyish back-up vocals. It is the band’s own testament of All Tomorrow’s Parties: lots of beer and total debauchery. (Dude Manor is the band’s endearing term for the house they shared in Vancouver.)

There are accusations that bands associated with emo have the tendency to be misogynistic wherein they paint women as the guilty party, the ones responsible for their misery. Though the group is made up solely of boys, Dude Manor doesn’t drive away potential female followers. Postal doesn’t blame the object of his affection for his heartache, as is evidenced on the single, “Said and Done”: “I thought that I was different from the boys you see/It turns out that I’m as bad, so don’t take a second look at me.”

The riffs on Dude Manor are decent, many times, infectious, but there’s nothing new or extraordinary. The lyrics are what you expect from a rock band: introspective, aggressive, full of self-loathing. On “Later Is Better” the boys talk about the power of nostalgia, the things they have taken for granted and, finally, a self-analysis on why certain things or actions happen.

A personal favorite is the last song “A Noisy Noise Annoys the Boys.” In it Postal hints that after listening to Dude Manor’s six songs the would-be listeners will be craving for more. “It’s going to pull at you, until you hit the ground/Point your ears at me so you can hear the sound of my voice/Will you listen if I tell you more?”

So will I listen to Dude Manor again and again? The answer is yes. As for some people who would think I am too old for this record, let them blather all day long; I couldn’t care less.

Written by: Elen P. Farkas, August 4th 2009