folk rock

Die Young

admin — Thu, 15 Jul 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Blair Gimma bounces about between art pop and insightful complexity with her first full-length venture, Die Young, juxtaposing the indelible angst of indie folk rock (with help from her daydreamy vocals) with stark lyrical imagery. Die Young was produced by Keith Ferguson, and uses all New Orleans-based musicians as a sort of tribute to where Blair spent her adolescence. Although the deep-rooted sounds of this genre are not entirely reflected in Die Young, the personal nature of the record touches on its sentimentality, as if most of the songs were acoustically derived from adversity and recorded in the solitude of Blair's bathroom.

“Rampage” sets the partial tone for the record, filling the landscape with echoed reverb and a little Pavement-inspired noise rock delight. Listening to electric keyboard synths in the opening verse of “Hearts,” one can almost picture the rolling credits of a favorite 80s soundtrack in all of its soft new wave splendor. “Hello Halo” features Blair's sprightly vocals, cushioned with classic indie distortion and a pulsing, syncopated beat that’s as pleasing as it is fitting, all while Blair recites, “Got a radio in my head…and it tells me what to say"; not to mention Blair’s amusing ode to girly glory, as she continues by deadpanning, “Kittens, rainbows!” “Paris, France” is moody and ethereal, blending electro-pop and the warm glow of ambient-pop, lush and hypnotic. “Candy in the Kitchen” works with heavy beats and moves in the same direction, albeit with a bit of a departure from the rest of the record. Gleefully, Blair sings, “I was dancing to Whitney Houston,” as you adjust your ears earnestly just to hear what she’ll say next.

Die Young is an extension of light summery pop melodies with harsh complex concepts that cut through its airy pop conventionality. Blair’s mix of vulnerability and savvy musical chops work in tandem, even though some of the songs could be on different records. Her personal pilgrimage, lasting over a span of five years, is still in its beginning stages, a cunning premonition to her eventual creative evolution in the years to come.

Written by: Cat Veit, July 14th 2010

Mojo

admin — Tue, 13 Jul 2010 00:01:00 +0000

By Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

Reprise

Think of the word mojo in the classic sense (energy and zest for life) before Jim Morrison distorted it, and it's really the best adjective to describe this album. Having listened to Tom Petty—with and sans the Heartbreakers—since high school, I have to agree with fellow fans that the guy just doesn't make bad music.

Like many an artist going through major life changes—divorce, having a child grow into an adult, a new marriage—music tends to be worn on his sleeve. While his releases have varied a great deal in the past fifteen years or so—contrast the mellowness of his solo album Wildflowers with the sad, longing lyrics of the tracks from She's The One (a soundtrack from an Ed Burns movie), to the pissed-off rants on The Last DJ—it's been a long time since he's put out songs with any real, well, mojo. Needless to say, this listener is glad he has it back. The lyrics seem to come from one who has loved, lost, toughened up, and loved again.

Not one of the fifteen tracks on Mojo disappoints. Some, like “Jefferson Jericho Blues,” “I Should Have Known It,” and guitar-heavy “Running Man's Bible,” have echoes of classics like “American Girl” and “Refugee,” but don't sound the least bit recycled. Likewise, there are lyrics in songs like “The Trip to Pirate's Cove” that have the trademark Tom Petty trait of nearly making sense, but then failing to (think “Mary Jane's Last Dance”). I don't normally care for rock artists attempting reggae, but even the track “Don't Pull Me Over,” with its slightly sad riffs, is done in good taste. And no Tom Petty album could be complete without honest, slightly tear-jerking songs about love and longing, and “No Reason to Cry” and “Lover's Touch,” while musically quite different, fit that bill.

In sum, don't download it song by song. Longtime fans will want this album in its entirety.

Written by: M.L. Madison, July 12th 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

Superstition

admin — Sat, 13 Mar 2010 01:00:00 +0000

By Christy and Emily

Big Print

Anyone who follows music press would agree that Brooklyn has been a hotbed of indie creativity during the past decade. The styles run the gamut from freak-folk to experimental noise, to sugarcoated pop, to singer-songwriter confessionals, to good old fashioned rock and roll. From this creative vortex emerge the duo Christy and Emily with a sound that is a pastiche of all of the above.

Christy Edwards and Emily Manzo have created a sweetly drone-y and sharply melodic record with Superstition. The vocal harmonies are pitch perfect and the songwriting, which could be classified as quietly psychedelic, is well developed. The songs, like fog, seem to creep in with plenty of reverb and quietly distorted guitar. On the title track and the lovely “Nightingale,” the mellow haze clears enough to reveal classic folk melodies. On others, such as “105 & Rising,” the buzzing thump of layered guitars and improvised instruments becomes distinctly sinister. The album’s closing track, “Tigers,” showcases the band at their more upbeat and successfully invokes folk rock vocal patterns. The track also features guest drums by Brooklyn drone master Oneida’s drummer, Kid Millions.

The world of Christy & Emily is layered and ethereal. Trying to pin them to one sound is difficult and, ultimately, fruitless. Those grasping for a comparison might point to Damon and Naomi, or perhaps Coco Rosie without the trust fund and fake, white girl rap. As its title implies, Superstition is best captured by an emotion. It is dreaming, reaching, and searching for a feeling that could be a false lead, but could a new revelation and understanding, for better or worse. The reverb drenched guitar and sunny to stormy vocals enable listeners to stretch and reach to touch with their finger tips—but not quite grasp—one strong feeling.

Written by: Eleanor Whitney, March 12th 2010

Know Better Learn Faster

admin — Sat, 09 Jan 2010 08:59:00 +0000

By Thao with The Get Down Stay Down

Kill Rock Stars

“Messy” and “complicated” could very well be the two best words for defining romantic love. As suggested by the title of Thao with The Get Down Stay Down’s latest record, Know Better Learn Faster, the brokenhearted masses could easily avoid painful relationships if they were just plain smarter and quicker learners. Alas, we as humans aren’t always the best decision makers, and as a small consolation, that’s why we get great break-up albums like this one.

On their second release for KRS, Thao with The Get Down Stay Down offers a varied record that is mostly energetic but also studded with a few mellow tracks. Drummer Willis Thompson, bassist and keyboardist Adam Thompson, and singer and guitarist Thao Nguyen have struck a fine balance of pacing on this album, avoiding any clichéd or sappy songs. The music itself is so lively that Know Better Learn Faster can be listened to at any time and in any mood.

Complementing the vibrant music are Nguyen’s capable songwriting abilities. She has a knack for quirky, attention-grabbing one-liners. On “Trouble Was For,” she opens the track by sultrily singing, “Everybody please put your clothes back on/We must see what the trouble was for,” and on “Body,” Nguyen pointedly asks, “What am I, just a body in your bed?”

“The Clap” gives the album an ominous and threatening opening. It’s a half-minute track complete with hand claps and layered vocals that repeats, “If this is how you want it ok, ok.” Sonically, this is as dark as the album gets, and while other tunes on Know Better Learn Faster are slowed and melancholic, none seem as chilling as the opener.

In most break-ups, there always seems to be a period of longing for the other to come back. This is a theme that is brought up frequently by Nguyen, like on “When We Swam,” where the plea is sung to “bring your hips to me,” or again on “Body,” where Nguyen makes a desire known by asking, “Won’t you reach for the body in your bed?”

But like Nguyen’s voice, which is strong and full-bodied, there’s a sense of resolve throughout the record to accept that the relationship is truly finished. On “Good Luck and Goodbye,” Nguyen sings, “Take care of your neck and spine and good luck and goodbye,” as if she is giving a reminder to learn from the past and to protect yourself from letting a relationship break you apart.

The dance-inducing “Easy” closes the album. It begins with Nguyen reminding us that “sad people dance, too.” It’s a great way to end this enjoyable album. Thao with The Get Down Stay Down leaves us with the knowledge that break-ups are never easy, but somehow, falling in love is still worth it.

Written by: Beverly Jenkins-Crockett, January 9th 2010

Every Light Must Fade

admin — Mon, 04 Jan 2010 09:00:00 +0000

By F&M

Shameless Records

Sometimes it seems the best things in life are those that we accidentally stumble across on a whim, or on the way to something else. That certainly seems to be the case for many of the items I’ve reviewed items for this blog. Case in point, I happened to find the name of this album appealing, Every Light Must Fade, and after listening to a few tracks, I realized I’d found something special.

I challenged myself to not write which singer or band F&M reminds me of—a natural tendency of mine when I write music reviews. What I will say is that when I listen to certain tracks on this album, I feel like I’m really “in the moment”—something I have a hard time achieving, even in meditation. Track three, “Stuttering Boy,” is one of my favorite tracks on the album. I’ll admit that I’m partial to the songs that feature Becky Anderson on vocals. There’s a pure honesty to her voice that combined with the poetry of the lyrics seems to pierce right to the heart of the matter:

…Quivering lips, quivering lips Will you just rest, rest, rest, oh and leave all the rest to me. Cause this world can be shaky, oh this world can be shaky oh some of the time…

If I were forced to place this band in a musical genre, I suppose it would be folk rock, but any category or label seems limiting for a band that is truly a breath of fresh air. Another favorite track of mine is “There Really is A Meaning to the Title of this Song” that features Becky and Ryan Anderson on vocals:

You are a backyard barbecue with an ocean closing in a dream Heaven help us we’re sinners one and all. Call my cousin he’s in jail but not the real kind. I’m talkin’ about the one in your brain as he’s

dancing circles in a fake Irish pub. Making faces at the clergy in the back. He’s a drunk who thunk and sunk his future plans…

Hailing from Alberta, Canada, this band has a unique sound that you won’t find anywhere else—and that’s a good thing.

Written by: Gita Tewari, January 4th 2010

Renaissance: Song of Scheherazade Live

admin — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 23:57:00 +0000

By Renaissance

Cherry Red Films

Renaissance is a notable 1970s folk rock band that developed a large fan base by having symphonic rock instrumentals contrasted by haunting female vocals and whimsical, intelligent lyrics. Renaissance: Song of Scheherazade Live includes video from the band’s performances at Capital Theatre in 1976 and their 1979 performance at Convention Hall. A great fuss was made when Cherry Red announced their release of Renaissance's concert footage. Between 1976 and 1983, Renaissance was in its prime output stage, so fans were excited by the idea of getting to experience the band’s concert during this pivotal point of development. However, it seems all of the enthusiasm was for naught.

The quality of the DVD itself is questionable and has received a great deal of well deserved criticism for the poor quality of the video. Though black and white footage has the potential to be beautiful in its own way, we get grainy, smoky, and at times completely indiscernible images of the concerts. (The menu is hideous, and is, ironically enough, created from a screen capture of the contained footage.) The camerawork is monotonous and rather random at times. Many of the shots were terribly framed. Random microphones and the movements of another band member obstruct the view of Annie Haslam when she sings or speaks. The majority of the shots consist of a rather unusual close up of the talented female lead, where she spends the great deal of time with her eyes closed.

The condition of the audio on this DVD also suffers. Haslma’s beautiful voice is lost within the background crackling, microphone interference, and temperamental volume. Rather than complement her voice, the audio makes the accompanying instruments sound like a swathe of annoying background noise.

The performance itself is passable if you concentrate on the insider dialogue between Haslam, other band members, and the audience. This is something that is truly priceless from the stance of a Renaissance fan, something you could not obtain anywhere else. However, these snippets of conversation between musical numbers were about the only thing I found even remotely entertaining on this DVD.

Unfortunately, the poor quality interferes with the ability to truly enjoy the works of what is arguably one of the most influential folk rock bands of the twentieth century. Though there must be some sort of legitimate reason why the film could not be better restored, I think it is a disappointment to say the least.

All and all, Renaissance: Song of Scheherazade Live is worth the money if you are an avid collector of the band’s works. If not, I suggest you stay away.

Written by: Jacquelyn White, September 24th 2009

Look Ahead

admin — Tue, 26 May 2009 09:01:00 +0000

By Chrissy Coughlin

Nature Girl Records

Chrissy Coughlin’s sound is an amalgamation of pop, indie, and folk, but overall it’s good songwriting, and she switches styles with aplomb. “Back to You” starts the album out kicking; it’s a peppy, upbeat tune marked by a strong beat and understated organ. The lyrics of this toe-tapping power rock song are somewhat trite (“If I don’t turn around and stay I would be a fool/I’m coming back to you”), but it’s absolutely fun nevertheless. “Watch Your Step,” takes things in a totally different direction, with reflective lyrics and acoustic guitar and piano. The lyrics of this introspective tune, in which she voices her worries over a friend having a rough time, are thoughtful. “I know you’re used to flying/Now the curtains are drawn/How quick the daylight’s gone/And all you’ve got are the stars above/Tell me what you gonna do my friend?”

The standout track “Big Log” is a classic Southern rocker—a sultry ballad with a languid electric guitar, with tension bubbling beneath the surface. “Perfect Time” is another upbeat tune, again featuring organ. The message—take advantage of the present moment—is simple, but the straightforward melody and infectious rhythm make it a perfect sing-along. The autumnal “Wait for You” is among the most memorable tracks on the disc. It starts with a melancholy piano riff and slow guitar picking; ambiguous lyrics add to its appeal. We don’t know who Coughlin is waiting for or why, but her plaintive vocals hint at longing and desperation.

Coughlin tries her hand at jazz with Carlos Antonio Jobim's bossa nova classic “Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars (Corcovado),” which features piano, cymbal washes, horns, and a long sax solo. The song showcases her husky, nuanced vocal, and her adventurous choice in covering this standard pays off. The disc concludes with “Honestly,” a straightforward tune about following one’s calling. The music perfectly fits Coughlin’s inspirational lyrics and it is a heartfelt, powerful end to the album.

Coughlin has been compared to a wide range of female singer-songwriters in the country, folk, and rock traditions, including Sheryl Crow, Lucinda Williams, Sarah McLachlan, Joni Mitchell, and Ricki Lee Jones. While traces of these artists’ influences can be found on her second album, what she really shares with them is a penchant for musical exploration and adventure, embracing multiple genres, and balancing them with wonderful results. She is at turns delicate and introspective, self-assured and in control, but she is always worth a listen.

Written by: Karen Duda, May 26th 2009

Trailer Park (Legacy Edition)

admin — Fri, 22 May 2009 23:49:00 +0000

By Beth Orton

Sony Legacy

I was twenty and living in Austin when I first heard Beth Orton. She laid the soundtrack to my existential search for love and self and meaning. Trailer Park is the kind of record you listen to while laying on your bed, questioning your life, your love, or playing against the background in a movie scene where you walk along the railroad tracks, hands in your pocket during a particularly emotional moment. When I see photos of Kristin Stewart, for some reason, Beth Orton sings in my head.

Orton has the smooth soft voice of an old school siren, but there is so much depth to her quiet and gentle sound that it’s difficult to pinpoint whether it’s her voice or her emotions that pour into each song. In some ways, Orton has a Portishead aesthetic of mixing trip hop with a woman’s beautiful voice, but without the affectation of Beth Gibbons, Orton just sings with a vulnerability and softness that still manages to get your attention. One of the best songs on the album is a cover of the Ronette’s “I Never Saw the Sunshine,” a quiet memorable track that captures what is best about Trailer Park and Orton—not overdone, not showy, just simple and straightforward, but powerful. There are also two different versions of “Best Bit” that are both remarkable in their own way.

Part British folk, part interlude, Beth Orton’s /B001C5R2QW?ie=UTF8&tag=feminrevie-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B001C5R2QW) adds a second disc of thirteen extra tracks, including live versions of several noteworthy songs, such as “Galaxy of Emptiness.” Lyrics like “Won’t you please knock me off my feet for awhile? Could you please knock me off my feet for awhile?” express completely what is so good about Orton and this album.

The heir to Carole King and Joni Mitchell, the original album fell onto the rainy London streets in the mid-90s, and a little more than ten years later, the legacy addition can reach out to a new generation of fans.

Written by: Mónica Teresa Ortiz, May 22nd 2009

Red Letter Year

admin — Wed, 03 Dec 2008 18:04:00 +0000

By Ani DiFranco

Righteous Babe Records

Red Letter Year is one of those records about—dare I say it?—hope. Its folksy tunes praise Mother Earth and the blessings we all share at the end of a devastating political era. You don't have to be a longtime fan of Ani DiFranco to be convinced that it is desirable—hell, even possible—to live in the woods, knit your own socks, grow your own food, and exist in a woman-centric world (assuming you don't already). Just as public rhetoric swirls around the sweeping changes that are coming, Ani reminds us that another type of radical life for us as individuals is possible now. Her life and work is all about putting forward ideas for radical action, and this album is no different. Red Letter Year finds our indie heroine a little older, wiser, and a bit more hopeful.

Indispensable sentiments: how love can make most of life's inconveniences seem inconsequential, how praying to a male god is "insane", and how complicated it is to nitpick oneself when your child is now your reflection more than a mirror. DiFranco is a mother now—clearly a euphoric one—and it shows. The title track opens with soaring joy and a sound of promise, with the entire album following suit. The artwork alone is worth the purchase; the lovely, earthy design and liner notes feel so tangible in a time of digital downloads and lyrics websites.

Ani's work—from her music to her record label—represents a particular type of radical feminism. Just because you don't subscribe to that vein of ideology doesn’t mean you can't appreciate this folksy rocker as she croons and reflects on our universal struggles. Take it from a late convert: if you didn't love Ani before, this is the time to start.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, December 3rd 2008

Catherine Avenue

admin — Mon, 24 Mar 2008 03:40:00 +0000

By Biirdie

Drive Thru Records

Biirdie came into my life at just the right time. Named for the musical Bye Bye Birdie (but adding an extra “I” because one Birdie band already exists), this southern California folk-rock trio’s sophomore release may not be extraordinarily adventurous or unusual, but they nevertheless make you want to take a long drive into nowhere, windows down. Maybe living in Boston, I hear songs about L.A. and get whimsical for rolling hills that lead to desert. Maybe I crave anything that sounds like perpetual springtime. Or perhaps I just find comfort in sappy, fuzzy rock about confusing love and wishing the weekend would arrive. Whatever it is, this CD hasn’t left my player for weeks as a result.

The one major flaw on this album for me is track three, “Who Were You Thinkin’ Of,” which is what I can only assume is the songwriters’ attempt to be quirky and clever, repeatedly wondering who else their partner was considering while they’d been making love. I know I’m old fashioned about love and romance, but isn’t that wildly insulting? If I don’t understand postmodern hook-ups, it’s because I don’t want to.

Overall, Biirdie won my heart. I looked up concert dates and kept their MySpace page open at work in case I got cranky and needed some dusty indie folk rock. “L.A. is Mars” has been on repeat in my room during the last few weeks, which were particularly sad in my life, and it—along with “Life in a Box”—saved me. I may be prone to repetitive media consumption, but that doesn’t mean any random band can achieve compulsively loved status with me. Recommended if you wish bands like Folk Implosion and Coconut Records would form a supergroup of mellow, country-tinged, roaming blues-rock.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, March 23rd 2008