A Vacation Trip To the Pacific Northwest

I recently traveled to Seattle and Portland to witness the Young Fresh Fellows' CD release shows for their forthcoming I Think This Is (Yep Roc). A quarter century after their seminal debut The Fabulous Sounds of the Pacific Northwest, this remains the world's greatest (or at least most fun) rock band--well worth a trans-continental flight. Their live appearances are exceedingly rare, but if you have yet to be initiated it is time to bring the Fellows' new platter or one of their classics into your life!

See full-size photos and my carefully recorded setlists.

Lou's Top 20 of 2008, Part 4

Here's the last in a four-part series revealing my choices for the Top 20 records of 2008. Feel free to submit your own list to purgegeeks@gmail.com and I'll strongly consider posting it.

1.) Bonnie Prince Billy - Lie Down In the Light (Drag City)

Will Oldham follows 2006's astonishing The Letting Go, an album steeped in quiet drama and somber emotion, with one that presents him as a heart-on-his-sleeve folkie alternating passionately ebullient and desperately painful love songs. Musically, it trades meticulous chamber-folk for simplistic rootsiness. But despite the gulf between the styles of the two records, they represent the two best of a frequently brilliant 15-year career. When these back-to-back triumphs are added to Oldham's iconic Palace releases of the mid-'90s and the occasional classic in between, it is hard to deny that he stands among the true legends. And Light reveals a legend at his peak. While unflinchingly strong throughout, a cascade of some of the most affecting songs in Oldham's oeuvre comes toward the end of the record. "Missing One" is an achingly beautiful lost love ballad that counters tearjerking potential with a steely resolve to move forward. "Where Is the Puzzle?" maybe more than any other track hearkens a bit to earlier times, but still features a shockingly open and confident--even downright uplifting--Oldham barely recognizable as the shadowy figure of years past. The title track brings another majestic example of heart-in-hand sensitivity while the near-acapella "Willow Trees Bend" makes palpable the powers of nature Will sings about. There are few albums better than this, period. And perhaps no musician ever who has found the artistic apex where Oldham stands today so far into an already exceptional career.

2.) David Vandervelde - Waiting For the Sunrise (Secretly Canadian)

Boy does David Vandervelde sound like George Harrison. It's easy to imagine "I Will Be Fine" and later "Need For Now" as tracks from a White Album-era George solo masterwork. But Vandervelde also throws in the beautiful Jayhawks-like rootsiness of "Old Turns," the Crazy Horse drone of "Hit the Road" and "Lyin' In Bed," and the pop weirdness of "Cryin' Like the Rain," which almost eerily resembles his Sec Can labelmate Bobb Trimble. All together, it makes for a record akin to the greatest heartfelt pop-rock of any era.

3.) Doug Keith - Here's To Outliving Me (The Cougar Label)

A fantastic solo debut from this New York singer-songwriter who conjures the spirit of Dylan, Young, and Waits--the former, for example, at the height of his sneering Hawks-backed era on "Salty Woman." "Take the Hammer Down, Dear" shares the earthiness of Richard Buckner's finest work. The songs are almost uniformly beautiful and heartrending, with backing tracks whose crisp acoustics, tinkling pianos, piercing organ, and percussive heartbeat channel the finest work of the icons Keith convincingly recalls.

4.) Dr. Dog - Fate (Park the Van)

On its fourth full-length, Dr. Dog returns to the heights it reached on Easy Beat, the best album of 2005. A fuller, more polished sound doesn't detract at all from the energy, enthusiasm, and really pure devotion to pop greatness. Not that plenty of off-kilter twists and turns don't still remain that cement this band as one of the most innovative--as well as accomplished--on the scene. Hints of r&b, dub, and country sneak through, but really it's simply all about the hooks. There's barely a moment here that isn't exceedingly engaging and clever, but also totally authentic. I've always said that the Dog reminds me of what it might sound like if Neil Young jammed with the Beatles, and what else can you really say other than that...

5.) Langhorne Slim (Kemado)

When I happened to wander across this New York singer-songwriter and his sidemen at this summer's Bristol Rhythm & Roots Festival making more (and happier) noise with an acoustic, stand-up bass, and modest drum kit than I had ever before witnessed, I noted the youthful fervor of a Pete Townshend or Billie Joe Armstrong. Like these towering figures, Slim not only writes immediately engaging songs and rocks the shit out of them, he (intentionally or not) gives voice to a generation seen as wandering and lost. And there's no reason "Rebel Side of Heaven" shouldn't be the next "My Generation," I say. On this, his second lp, we get a taste of what Roky Erickson may have become without the electroshock--a literate songwriter not afraid to let it loose. The backing is largely acoustic and rootsy but stretches beyond "Americana" without splitting its seams. The uptempo numbers rock without becoming cringeworthy "psychobilly" and the softer numbers manage to maintain a palpable energy. "Tipping Point" comes off as a sprightly update of "A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall," surveying today's unsettling societal landscape as Dylan did the civil rights and Cold War era. The closing "Hummingbird" is a heartwrenching lament worthy of Kristofferson. This guy does it all. I'd hate to curse him and say that he is going to be something special, so I'll just say that with this record, he is already is.

Lou's Top 20 of 2008, Part 3

Here's the third in a four-part series revealing my choices for the Top 20 records of 2008. Feel free to submit your own list to purgegeeks@gmail.com and I'll strongly consider posting it.

6.) Damien Jurado - Caught In the Tress (Secretly Canadian)

On eight albums over the past decade plus, Damien Jurado has quietly amassed a catalog establishing him as simply one of the best singer-songwriters ever. This album is one of his finest and considerably burnishes that credential. After opening with maybe the poppiest track of his career, the infectious "Gillian Was A Horse," Jurado delivers his usual procession of alternately aching, unsettling, and haunting indie-folk, many given a welcome extra kick here by a rock-solid rhythm section, the beautiful harmonies of Jenna Fisher (who composed the creepy hoe-down "Best Dress"), and well-placed keyboards and cello. There are too many excellent tracks here to pick highlights, so suffice it to say that Jurado has proven his greatness once again with perhaps his strongest album beginning to end.

7.) The Mumlers - Thickets & Stitches (Galaxia)

A truly unique debut that throws in just about everything including the kitchen sink instrumentally and stylistically. Traces of everything from jazz to r&b to '40s pop to Eastern European folk are detectable. A delightfully loose horn section somewhat akin to a Dixieland funeral band carries a few of the songs while avoiding the tendency of brass instruments to be oppressive. The songs remain the focal point and are the album's strongest asset. "Whale Song" is a beautiful, fingerpicked love ballad, "Untie My Knots" recalls Muswell Hillbillies-era Kinks, while "Hush" brings The Band to mind with its countryish tune entwined in a swirling melange of keyboards. This band's ability and creativity is already staggering and bodes extremely well for its future.


8.) Okkervil River - The Stand Ins (Jagjaguwar)

Whether or not they continue their prolific output in 2009, Okkervil River will go down as the best band of the decade, having released five albums that would have made the Top Ten in any year. The Stand Ins continues in the more theatrical and rockier direction O.R. waded into on last year's excellent The Stage Names, and apparently continues its concept, which I still haven't exactly put my thumb on yet. Regardless, "Singer Songwriter" provides a vehicle for vocalist Will Sheff to portray a wry mid-'60s Dylan, "Pop Lie" hovers around New Wave, and "On Tour With Zykos" is a beautiful if despairing piano ballad. All of it achieves the excellence fans have come to expect from this band and which they have consistently delivered.

9.) Ladyhawk - Shots (Jagjaguwar)

Just about every Ladyhawk song is a visceral experience, whether it pummels you from beginning to end like album opener “I Don’t Always Know What You’re Saying” or “You Ran” or crawls painfully to the crescendo of a searing solo on “Faces of Death.” Shots is simultaneously looser than the band's great eponymous debut while still containing amazing pop hooks in nearly every track. Some new textures like (gasp!) the occasional keyboard or the girl-group backing vocals on “Night You’re Beautiful” add some new depth to the band's outward austerity.

10.) The Donkeys - Living On the Other Side (Dead Oceans)

Another Southern California band under the spell of the magic of a bygone era, though they are apt to look north to conjure the Grateful Dead at the height of their stoney rootsiness of the early '70s. It boggles that the Dead's legacy has become entwined with the ridiculous "jam" bands when it is far more faithfully represented in the aching "Dolphin Center," the breezy "Pretty Thing," the country stomper "Bye Bye Baby" or any number of other tracks here. The acoustic "Dreamin'" detours toward CSN&Y, but "Boot On the Seat" is an American Beauty for sure and maybe the best here. Those guys were on to something back then and these guys are now. An easy album to dig.

Lou's Top 20 of 2008, Part 2

Here's the second in a four-part series revealing my choices for the Top 20 records of 2008. Feel free to submit your own list to purgegeeks@gmail.com and I'll strongly consider posting it.

11.) Bodies of Water - A Certain Feeling (Secretly Canadian)

It's hard to know exactly what to say about this band/record. It doesn't sound quite like anything else I've ever heard, though neither is it incredibly unusual. There are a lot of male-female harmonies/gang vocals and creative arrangements of simple basic rock instrumentation (though you do get an ambitious Sergio Mendes-inspired coda on "Even In A Cave"). There is a good mix of uptempo rockers and powerful (and pretty) dirges. Great enthusiasm is totally evident through it all. The band's equally strong self-released debut was also reissued by Sec Can this year.

12.) National Eye - The Farthest Shore (Park the Van)

This Philadelphia collective's third album is its most focused to date, leaving behind the snippet-like tunes of its predecessors for more fully formed songs without losing the weird charm or melodic hooks. The brilliant melange of odd instrumentation remains as well. As does the strong Bowie-Eno influence. So perhaps Shore isn't so much different as it is, well... better.

13.) Calexico - Carried To Dust (Quarterstick)

I, for one, was a bit taken aback by this album's predecessor, 2006's Garden Ruin, which--while enjoyable--seemed a bit like a contrived departure from the band's previous work. Fans should feel a little more at home with Carried, which opens with the Mariachi-tinged "Victor Jara's Hands." Next, the excellent "Two Silver Trees" nods toward the poppier material on Ruin, but about splits the difference between that record and 2003's definitive Feast of Wire, of which the same could be said of the record as a whole. Vocalist/guitarist Joey Burns' songcraft is allowed to come to the fore throughout, continuing to distance the band from its challenging early work, but maintaining its fierce originality. The beautiful "Slowness," a country-ish duet with Pieta Brown, is a highlight.

14.) Conrad Ford - Secret Army (Tarnished Records)

One of the great things about making a year-end list is finding out what I've really been listening to all year. For instance, my meticulous research for this review revealed that Conrad Ford is in fact a band, and not merely a dude with a band. Regardless, vocalist-songwriter Andy McAllister (who knew?) lays down a nice vaguely Waits-ian rasp on these melancholy yet highly melodic tunes, while providing "Marry the Unknown" an Oldham-esque moan. A beautiful blend of pedal steel, Wurlitzer, melodica, banjo, understated drums, etc. is woven around them by the other Fords.

15.) The Dreadful Yawns - Take Shape (Exit Stencil)

This Cleveland band’s fourth full-length, with a completely new lineup with the exception of principal songwriter/vocalist Ben Gmetro, has its share of the rootsy, dreamy folk-pop that dominated its first three records but takes plenty of twists and turns as well. Opener “Like Song” is a groovy, jangly gem that could have come off of any of the Yawns’ platters, like “Catskill,” a beautiful, sad folk-rock tune that Gmetro harmonizes with new member Elizabeth Kelly. These numbers, however, sandwich the Nuggets-worthy “Queen and the Jokester,” which showcases a more muscular side to the new group. “Saved” carries on this newfound garagey swagger and appends the album’s first freakout. Kelly takes the lead vocal on both the sprightly “Kill Me Now” and the Apples in Stereo-like “Expecting Rain.” The rollercoaster ride really begins, though, toward the end of the record. “All the Dead Soldiers” is a hybrid of a typically enchanting Gmetro indie-folk showcase with a far out coda. Next, “Don’t Know What I’ve Been On” sees a trippy sunshine-pop number morph into a disarmingly chaotic jam before wrapping up at length with a fingerpicked acoustic and hushed harmonies. Finally, the closing “Mood Assassin” melds a sweet Kelly vocal with an angular indie-rock barrage and a string section into the most significant departure of the album and a truly new frontier for the band. While all the left turns are a bit shocking at first, this record only cements the Yawns' status as one of the most original and under-recognized bands out there today.

Lou's Top 20 of 2008, Part 1

Here's the first in a four-part series revealing my choices for the Top 20 records of 2008. Feel free to submit your own list to purgegeeks@gmail.com and I'll strongly consider posting it.

16.) Sun Kil Moon - April (Caldo Verde)

Former Red House Painters mastermind Mark Kozelek's first album of originals since 2003 continues at times in his well-established vein of majestic, haunting, hypnotic albeit stripped-down soundscapes with an unsettling air despite their outward calm. But right from the pretty acoustic lead-in to the opening "Lost Verses," there is something new at play here, as well. Several songs play out like a slideshow of snapshots with an old lover that you are allowing yourself to smile at again, and the dual comfort that comes from looking back and yet knowing you are moving forward at the same time. But at times, the sadness still comes to the fore. "I have all these memories and I don't know what for/I have them and I can't help it," he sings on the virtually perfect "Like the River," on which he is joined by a well-suited Will Oldham harmony.

17.) Jesse Malin - On Your Sleeve (One Little Indian)

The concept of a top-notch songwriter like Jesse Malin releasing an all-covers record is a bit odd on the surface, but a diverse and enjoyable selection of covers has always peppered his live sets, and his distinctive and expressive vocals simply envelop a good song no matter the composer. He transforms some tracks (The Bad Brains' "Leaving Babylon" into an almost loungey shuffle, the Stones' "Sway"--an especially ballsy choice--into dark synth-pop, Elton John's "Harmony" into a complex blend of trip-hop and orchestrated pop) and plays others relatively straight (Paul Simon's "Me and Julio," Lou Reed's "Walk On the Wild Side," Neil Young's "Lookin' For A Love") The best moments are when he takes a great song that he obviously truly loves and just caresses it in his own fashion, cases in point Jim Croce's "Operator" and Fred Neil's "Everybody's Talkin'." The domestic release unfortunately swaps out a few of the best tracks from the earlier U.K. release (The Ramones' "Rock and Roll Radio," Sam Cooke's "Wonderful World," Tom Waits' "I Hope I Don't Fall In Love") for weaker replacements, so pick up the import if you get the chance.

(Malin also released an excellent limited-edition live set, Mercury Retrograde, on Adeline Records this year.)

18.) Swing Set - How To Make a Living Selling Yourself Short (self-released)

The first solo record from Alex Brenner, frontman of wonderful Pittsburgh-native country-rockers Sodajerk, currently on hiatus in Georgia after moving South a year or so ago. The material here is still pretty country, with stronger hints of indie singer-songwriter ("emo," if you must) influences. In whichever direction Brenner turns, you get remarkably well-constructed and affecting tunes and heartbreak all around.

19.) The Coal Porters - Turn the Water On, Boy! (Prima-UK)

The Coal Porters is the band founded by Sid Griffin--leader of the great '80s L.A. country-rock revival act The Long Ryders and noted music journalist--upon his relocation to England around the turn of '90s, and made three strong albums in a vein similar to Griffin's previous work during that decade before virtually disbanding. Suddenly, the group reemerged in 2004 as a full-fledged bluegrass band with Griffin on mandolin and a brand new supporting cast of British pickers. While the band's first release in this incarnation, 2004's How This Dark Earth Will Shine, missed the mark a bit, its second album is a triumph of fiercely traditional music through a fresh lens. It is a bit disarming to hear bluegrass in a British accent when guitarist Neil Herd and fiddler Hana Loftus step to the mic, but every track here is well-executed and thoroughly enjoyable.

20.) The Quarter After - Changes Near (The Committee To Keep Music Evil)

Los Angeles has always produced bands who wear on their sleeve a debt to the city's hyper-influential '60s folk-psych-rock boom, from the Paisley Underground in the 1980's to acts like Beachwood Sparks and The Tyde in this decade. The Quarter After are one of the latest and best adherents to that tradition, following up their excellent eponymous 2005 debut with this equally engaging follow-up. Honestly, the band is one of the most derivative of their ilk, which sounds bad on paper, but they pull it off convincingly. Their clear intention is to sound like The Byrds, and they do. And there's not a damn thing in the world wrong with that. Vocalist Dominic Campanella even sounds like Gene Clark, which if practiced has been practiced well. "Counting the Score," the most country-ish number yet in the band's canon, sounds like it could have come right off of Gene's '67 solo debut. On "Turning Away," Campanella reveals that he has practiced a bit at sounding like Roger McGuinn, too, which also comes out as nothing but enjoyable. I would prefer to think of this band more as kindred spirits to these legends than imitators, but if the worst you can say about The Quarter After is that they sound too much like the greatest American rock band of all time, I'd say they're doing pretty well.

Byrds, Burritos books go to extremes

Rock biographies are a double-edged sword. On one hand, we love to know every minute detail and amusing anecdote about our heroes, while on the other I could do without reading several hundred pages worth of some self-proclaimed expert’s opinions of the same records I long ago formed my own opinions about. A litany of pointless criticism is liable to ruin even the most informative rock tome.

Two new books from Jawbone Press on two of my most worshipped bands, the incestuously linked Byrds and Flying Burrito Brothers, illustrate well the extremes commonly found in the genre.

Christopher Hjort’s So You Want To Be A Rock ‘n’ Roll Star: The Byrds Day To Day 1965-1973 is no less than a chronology of every known concert appearance, broadcast appearance, recording session, contentious departure, etc. during the existence of America’s finest rock band, plus plenty of info about the band members pre- and post-Byrds careers. Chock full of photos, concert flyers, press clippings, contemporary concert and record reviews, and interviews with members and associates, this is probably too much information for all put the most crazed Byrdmaniac. So of course it makes me drool.

The very fact that this book exists is testament to The Byrds’ enduring legacy and influence and their admiration by generations of rock cognoscenti. But what becomes clear far sooner in the 336 pages than might be expected is how rocky a career the band endured and perhaps how remarkable it is that they managed to become so exalted.

The band’s commercial star burned out much more quickly than that of most bands who have retained such a lasting profile (they achieved all seven of their U.S. Top 40 singles within two years of their number one debut, “Mr. Tambourine Man”), and even during this period suffered more than their fair share of misfortune, from the sudden departure of primary songwriter Gene Clark to scathing reviews of their concerts (likely deserved since they basically refused to rehearse) to the groundbreaking “Eight Miles High” being dubiously labeled a “drug song.”

More interesting than the rather well-documented era of smash hits and teen idolatry, though, are the accounts of the band’s frustrating mid-period of flop after brilliant flop on the charts, the crumbling of the group during the recording of The Notorious Byrd Brothers, the sudden rise of the unknown Gram Parsons from sideman to frontman and the resulting jolting shift to country music, and Parsons’ departure as quickly as he had come on the eve of a disastrous South African tour and his subsequent coaxing away of Chris Hillman.

Unpredictably, stability reigns toward the end of The Byrds’ story, as Roger McGuinn surrounds himself with a new group which—almost in direct inverse to the early days—becomes a popular and respected live act while its records are unfairly maligned or ignored before McGuinn—after having stuck it out for so long—jilts his most tenured lineup for a brief and ill-advised reformation of the original group.

Since this book is not written in narrative there is little chance for the author to interject his opinion, though the opinions of about everyone else in the world vested with a couple inches of copy at one point or another is here, which is interesting on many levels but quite dense. This is not an easy read but is a great browse, and I am sure it will be a regular companion during the frequent occurrences when one The Byrds’ records is on my stereo. This is probably not to be recommended for the casual fan, but devotees will want it in their libraries.


Hot Burritos: The True Story of The Flying Burrito Brothers by John Einarson chronicles the life of the band Parsons and Hillman would form upon leaving The Byrds, the commercial impact of which was virtually nil but who are cited constantly as primary influences among several succeeding decades worth of country-rockers. Following on the heels of Einarson’s enjoyable books on Buffalo Springfield and Gene Clark, there is a lot to like about this book, too. Einarson’s writing is generally meticulously researched, entertaining, and clear in its admiration for his subjects but not deferential to a fault. The bulk of the book provides great insight into the life of a band that needed and deserved chronicling. Most of it is a good read, and Einarson wisely keeps his own opinion largely out of the accounting.

However, one man’s opinions are ubiquitous, which would be “co-author” Chris Hillman. (Not sure when giving a long interview began to qualify one as a co-author, but whatever.) I am a Chris Hillman fan. I love many of his songs and records. But I wouldn’t care much about his opinions even if they weren’t so curmudgeonly and featured so copiously as they are here. No one has the right to tell the story of the Burritos and give his take on their legacy more than their co-founder and the only constant in the authentic early incarnations of the group, but what comes out is that Hillman has an axe to grind and that Einarson is more than happy to indulge him.

Two entire chapters of Hot Burritos are basically fully devoted to Hillman’s repeated contentions that Gram Parsons wasn’t all that good. One of these chapters is the first one, which basically made me want to shelve this book before I even got to anything of substance. Hillman takes pains to minimize Parsons’ songwriting contributions, complain about his singing, and blame him for the band not achieving its potential. (The opening chapter also seems to have been rushed and contains some factual inaccuracies and editing mistakes, as well.)

Now, I feel for Hillman on some level. It isn’t quite fair that Parsons is revered at least in some sense because of his romanticized erraticism, substance abuse, and overdose death while Hillman has continued to toil workmanlike on his music to this day. It’s true that some of the classics from the Burritos’ magnificent 1968 debut The Gilded Palace of Sin are routinely referenced as “Gram Parsons songs” when they were co-writes with Hillman (and that Parsons’ vocal triumphs “Hot Burrito #1” and “Hot Burrito #2” were primarily conceived by bassist Chris Ethridge). And it’s a shame that Hillman had to coerce, prod, and sometimes physically force Parsons to attend recording sessions and gigs.

True enough that there would likely not have been a Flying Burrito Brothers, or indeed a Gram Parsons as we know him today, if not for Chris Hillman. But neither would there likely have been a Flying Burrito Brothers or the legacy of country-rock left by The Byrds and Burritos without Gram Parsons. Despite the man’s apparently deep character flaws, a lot of people just love his singing and songs and records. And to read Chris Hillman discounting him today just seems sad and petty. It is especially sad that Hillman basically asserts that he regrets even forming the Burritos with Parsons and wishes he had not worked with him after Parsons had left The Byrds in suspect circumstances.

(To be fair, Hillman seems to dislike a lot of stuff besides Parsons, from basically everything any of his former bandmates did without his involvement, to virtually every drummer he ever played with, to—somehow—Clarence White’s electric guitar playing.)

I will reiterate that despite the cloud Hillman hangs on the whole affair before it even begins, the meat of the book is all well and good. Maybe a bit too much effort is made to talk up the dross-filled first post-Parsons Burritos album, but the account of the latter day Burritos (much like The Byrds) becoming for the first time a well-oiled concert draw made me dig up the vinyl of the live Last of the Red Hot Burritos recorded during that period. But Hillman, like McGuinn seemingly threatened by stability, would break up the band for what must have looked like the greener pastures of backing Stephen Stills (yikes!). And, unfortunately, we get a closing chapter where Hillman gets to rehash all of his gripes.

Neither of these books is likely to much alter whatever popular perception exists of these bands today, but both in their own way should add to fans’ consciousness of these somewhat legends as people and musicians, despite some excess on both counts.

New stuff on Aural States!

I've got two new-ish posts up on Aural States, profiles of the amazing Everybodyfields from Knoxville, TN and the continually evolving Dreadful Yawns of Cleveland. Hope you'll check 'em out.


I realize there hasn't been anything new up here for quite some time, but the time for best of the year lists is rapidly approaching. Check back for mine and submit yours to purgegeeks@gmail.com.

Ladyhawk profile on Aural States

My newest post on Aural States is a profile/review of Vancouver-based rockers Ladyhawk.

Mark Olson profile on Aural States

I have been graciously asked to contribute to the Baltimore-based blog Aural States, and my first post there is a profile of Mark Olson (ex-Jayhawks). Check it out!

Please be my friend

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McGuinn shares musical lifetime of songs and stories

Even for a deeply avowed Byrdmaniac, Roger McGuinn is pretty far down the list of the great American singer-songwriters. From his earliest days as an in-demand sideman on the commercial folk circuit, his strongest reputation has always been that of guitarist, arranger, and interpreter--seemingly not much of a way to achieve lasting stature among contemporaries whose pens produced protest anthems that changed a nation, rock poetry that altered the face of popular music, and chart topping hits that still fill the airwaves today.

So how is it then that McGuinn took the stage Saturday at Carnegie Lecture Hall with his place firmly secured among the true legends of the heady past 40-plus years of pop-rock? Because all those years ago, McGuinn had the vision--looking back some might say the audacity--to take hold of the songs of the greatest songwriter this nation has produced and transform them to the extent that Bob Dylan himself couldn't recognize his own compositions when the Byrds' infectious readings were played for him. While occasionally maligned as imitators or ripoff artists, clearly the vast majority of the Byrds' forays into the Dylan songbook have a beauty and importance almost totally separate from the original compositions. When the crowd erupted as McGuinn--still standing in the wings--jangled the opening notes to "My Back Pages" on his trademark 12-string Rickenbacker, it wasn't because a Dylan cover was being played. Nor when he revisited his country arrangement of "You Ain't Goin' Nowhere" from 1968's Sweetheart of the Rodeo, an album that brought the advent of "country-rock" just as "Mr. Tambourine Man"--the Byrds' 1965 number 1 hit debut, which of course prompted a rapturous crowd response--had ushered in "folk-rock."

McGuinn also embraced a Dylan number from beyond the Byrds' cache of classic covers, offering a haunting rendition of "One More Cup of Coffee," his contribution to the soundtrack of last year's Dylan biopic I'm Not There.

But McGuinn's ingenuity with a Dylan tune alone did not put the Byrds in their place as the greatest American rock band. He had the good fortune as well of a chance meeting in L.A.'s Troubadour club in 1964 with perhaps the closest rival to Dylan's songwriting supremacy; and despite generally being sadly unheralded today, the late Gene Clark is also well represented in McGuinn's repertoire. A fantastic surprise and highlight was the version of "She Don't Care About Time"--perhaps Clark's and the Byrds' crowning achievement despite being relegated to the B-side of the group's second chart-topper, "Turn! Turn! Turn!"--complete with McGuinn's faithful reprisal of his spine-tingling baroque-rock solo. Another surprise choice was "You Showed Me," one of the first batch of songs co-written by pre-Byrds Clark and McGuinn and though never issued by the group a hit several times over since.

Clark was back in the set when McGuinn opened the encore with "Feel A Whole Lot Better," a number from the Mr. Tambourine Man lp as important to defining the sound of the early Byrds as the title track was. And while it's rarely acknowledged that Clark was the principal composer of the groundbreaking psych-rock single "Eight Miles High," which closed McGuinn's first set, it was reduced to a single verse here and transformed into an eye-popping (though perhaps slightly self-indulgent) guitar showcase.

While McGuinn and the electric 12-string are virtually synonymous, the majority of his set is now played on a 7-string Martin HD-7 acoustic he designed and calls the "Swiss Army knife of guitars," allowing for an approximation of the jangly sound of the 12-string Rick while allowing as well for blues and country runs, which he illustrated to great effect on Woody Guthrie's "Pretty Boy Floyd" (also from Sweetheart) and several folk-blues numbers from his surprisingly strong 2004 release Limited Edition. McGuinn has made a second career (or fourth or fifth) out of resurrecting nearly forgotten folk and blues tunes for release on his recent albums of traditional music and on the Internet, but one of his oldest folk arrangements, "He Was A Friend of Mine," may have been the highlight of the evening with McGuinn's mournful voice in the hushed auditorium sounding much the way it must have when he first performed his touching version in the wake of the JFK assassination. Each recorded McGuinn version of "Friend" I have heard gives me chills, and he was able to surpass that depth of feeling in person even decades after the fact.

McGuinn peppers his set with anecdotes tracing his lifetime in music from sneaking into Chicago's legendary Gate of Horn folk club as a teenager to see Leadbelly, to rocking up traditional numbers in the Beatles' style in Greenwich Village, to the birth of the Byrds harmonizing in a stairwell with Clark and David Crosby, to Peter Fonda shuttling Dylan's lyrics to "Ballad of Easy Rider" cross-country for McGuinn to complete. It is a story and a legacy of which he plainly is and should be proud. With a little help from his friends and an incisive view of the world of music around him, few have produced a body of work of the quality and importance of Roger McGuinn's, and perhaps none can still deliver the message as well today.

Roger McGuinn's Pittsburgh appearance was part of the Calliope Concert Series.

Welcome to Pittsburgh ed fROMOHIO!

One of the great stories in the history of rock 'n' roll has wended it's way to our city and brought us the good fortune of witnessing the return to live performance of a too-often unheralded stalwart of the formative days of indie rock.

When Ed Crawford in 1986 drove from his home in Toronto, Ohio (40 miles down the Ohio River from Pittsburgh) to San Pedro, Calif. with the intention of coaxing Minutemen bassist Mike Watt (reeling from the death of his bandmate/childhood friend D. Boon) out of retirement from music, "it was the result of a 22-year-old kid who didn't know any better," Crawford says today.

Shockingly, Watt at length agreed to form a new band, fIREHOSE, with Crawford and Minutemen drummer George Hurley. And ed fROMOHIO (as Watt christened him) found himself playing in a band for the first time alongside his heroes and the greatest rhythm section this side of Jones and Bonham. "I didn't even own an amplifier when I moved out there," Crawford reveals. "I just played as best as I knew how."

Crawford was also expected by Watt--maybe the most prolific songwriter in punk--to contribute creatively. "He asked me 'Do you write songs?' I said, 'Yeah, sure!'--I had never written any songs before in my life!" Crawford remembers. Still, Crawford immediately began contributing gems beginning with the band's debut, 1986's Ragin', Full On. While remnants of the Minutemen's groundbreaking amalgamation of angular British punk and straight-up, blue collar American rock 'n' roll remained in force, Crawford (who learned guitar playing along to James Taylor records, "Two points off the cool score," he says) brought strong elements of folk and melodic singer-songwriter music to the band's records. These seemingly disparate elements were a large part of not only what helped liberate fIREHOSE from the considerable shadow of the Minutemen, but what allowed them to be an integral part of a dynamic and hugely influential post-punk scene centered on SST Records, the label founded by Black Flag leader Greg Ginn to which the Minutemen had been the first signing.

"Punk is more a state of mind than a style of music," Crawford says. "None of those bands [on SST--whose roster included the Meat Puppets, Sonic Youth, the Descendants, Dinosaur Jr., Husker Du, and of course Black Flag among its notables] sounded like each other. That's the part of punk I really liked--the freedom of it."

But while the Minutemen's legendary status was owing to their unique and groundbreaking sound, fIREHOSE earned its notoriety more through a workmanlike ethic, Crawford says. "Nobody toured as much as we did--Nobody," Crawford says, citing a schedule of 73 shows in 75 days at one point. But Crawford found little vehicle in the band's sets for the songs that bore his strongest stamp. "There was no room for acoustic," he says. "You couldn't really fit it into the live show."

After fIREHOSE disbanded in 1994 following five lp's (three on SST and two after signing to Columbia), Crawford took up residence in Winston-Salem, N.C. He gigged and toured intermittently fronting the band Grand National, and also served as a sideman in the final incarnation of Ryan Adams' Whiskeytown and in Southern Culture On the Skids. He relocated to Pittsburgh last year to care for his elderly parents and is easing back into performing after about five years on the sidelines. He called his gig Friday at Garfield Artworks "Really the first time I've ever played acoustic in front of people."

But Crawford showed little sign of rust (other than an occasional glance down at a lyrics sheet) and showed a strong aptitude for the unplugged medium. His singularly strong voice and deft guitar playing remain in evidence. The bulk of his set list was comprised of tunes written during his time in Grand National and included songs close in spirit to many of his fIREHOSE compositions, as well as a couple striking numbers that leaned closer to overt country material. The fIREHOSE favorites "Backroads" and "In Memory of Elizabeth Cotton" were thrown in as well and garnered recognition from a number of those in the audience. Crawford promises continually expanding set lists beginning with his next gig March 1 at Gooski's.

Along with his return to performance, Crawford says he is enjoying Pittsburgh in general since moving here. "It's a lot like coming home" given his Eastern Ohio upbringing, he says, and cites fond memories of the city from attending Penguins games "back when they were in the blue jerseys" to Judy Banana's meatball sandwiches during fIREHOSE's frequent visits to Oakland's legendary Electric Banana. He also cites renewed exposure to new, acoustic music via WYEP as part of his impetus to begin performing again.

Pittsburgh is lucky to have in its midst something of a legend of American indie music as well as a great addition to the singer-songwriter community today. Make sure to welcome him to town at Gooski's March 1.

John Stewart (1939-2008)

I was saddened to learn about last weekend's death of John Stewart, a truly underrated singer-songwriter whose late '60s-mid '70s output has become a staple of my listening in recent months and is in the upper echelon of that period's bounty of great folk-inspired pop outings.


Stewart first gained notoriety as a member of the darlings of early '60s commercial folk, The Kingston Trio, and would have left behind an enviable musical legacy even if he had done nothing other than compose "Daydream Believer," the Monkees' chart-topping 1967 reading of which is one of the better pop singles of all time. But the early portion of his solo output reveals a consistently brilliant songsmith, a strong and effecting vocalist, and among the most authentic of the roots-inspired troubadours of the era.

Stewart's proper solo debut (following a duet album with his wife and singing partner of more than 40 years, Buffy Ford, who survives him), 1969's California Bloodlines, is his most acclaimed release. It is unabashedly rootsy, though mostly shies away from the overt nods toward traditional country being embraced by Dylan, the Byrds, and others at the time. Recorded in Nashville, it leans west in its themes and much of its sound, and it is difficult to find comparisons to draw. Perhaps Merle Haggard had he been more influenced by Dust Bowl-era folk, though this doesn't account for Stewart's poetic lyricism. It does seem he is still perfecting his vocal delivery throughout. Resembling Johnny Cash, but with far greater range and variance, it does grind a bit on a couple of the more wistful numbers. On the more upbeat numbers, though, Stewart's vocal interactions with the Nashville sessioners are a great pleasure. When he gets into the music on "Mother County" and "Never Going Back," his voice has a jubilant and almost hair-raising quality. Add to that category "July, You're A Woman," a startlingly beautiful tale of spontaneous passion for a stranger.

The German Bear Family imprint teamed Bloodlines with a slightly downsized version of its follow-up, 1970's Willard. Produced by Peter Asher--soon to be churning out polished chart hits with James Taylor and Linda Ronstadt--it is more conventional sounding, but perhaps also more even. That said, the first track that really grabs me here is the down-home "Belly Full of Tennessee," which seems like it may have been held over from the Bloodlines sessions. But the L.A. band turns in a similar-quality stomper on "Golden Rollin' Belly," my favorite here. "Friend of Jesus" and "All American Girl" are both a little schticky but still enjoyable, and should have been hits for someone.

Collector's Choice Music has reissued Stewart's two 1971 albums, The Lonesome Picker Rides Again and Sunstorm. There's nothing really wrong with Picker, though it lacks standouts. "Freeway Pleasure" is a beautiful, acoustic folk confessional and the best track here. The version of "Daydream Believer" unfortunately seems like filler and maybe an intentionally deprecating take on Stewart's most famous composition. Sunstorm is much stronger, opening with the amazing "Kansas Rain," which could certainly be held up with the most heralded of '70s singer-songwriter triumphs. There's not a weak tune here, though "An Account of Haley's Comet" is certainly odd.

Another Bear Family two-fer combines 1973's Cannons In the Rain and 1975's Wingless Angels into one essential package. Cannons is the most laid-back Stewart album yet, but finds him especially strong of voice. The folky "Chilly Winds" and poppy "All Time Woman" are highlights, as is the catchy "Road Away," the most sprightly track on the record. The rockier "Wind Dies Down" is great, too. And there is little excuse for "Hung On Your Heart" not having been a hit at the height of country-pop love ballads.

Angels kicks off with the lilting "Rose Water," followed by the ambitious title track, great in its own right but magnificent and haunting when Stewart throws in an orchestrated snippet dubbed "Survivors II," which stands in stark contrast to its apparent progenitor, a beautiful slice of folk-Americana (though the singalong chorus could be shorter). "Some Kind of Love" is a heartbreaking should-be country standard, and "Josie" is another one that should have put Stewart on the pop charts alongside the other country-inflected soft-rockers of the era. This is maybe the best Stewart album I've gotten a hold of, and for now it's the last.

There is one more gem from this period out there, though. Recorded between Cannons and Angels, Bear Family's The Complete Phoenix Concerts is maybe the best place to go for an introduction to Stewart. Delivering a set of classics backed by a great band, many of the versions here match or surpass the studio recordings and provide a nice overview of many of his best songs of the era.

Stewart would find his chart success before the '70s were out with the single "Gold"--backed by Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks-- and the lp Bombs Away Dream Babies, and would record fairly prolifically for the remainder of his life. While his passing did warrant some headlines in the national press, his work beyond the Kingston Trio and "Daydream Believer" seems to now be the province of hardcore followers. I was thinking just recently that the next few years will doubtless see the passing of many of those who have become my musical icons and heroes, and doubtless some of these will pass largely under the radar. Stewart got his due for some of his magnificent body of work, but the great records noted above aren't likely to ever garner widespread notice again. At 25, I wonder if I will be the last to remember names and songs like John Stewart's...and hope I won't be.

Lou's Top 20 of 2007, Part 4

Here's the last in a four-part series revealing my choices for the Top 20 records of 2007. Feel free to submit your own list to purgegeeks@gmail.com and I'll strongly consider posting it.

1. Christian Kiefer – Dogs & Donkeys (Undertow)

The first thing that comes to mind when I listen to this is that it approximates early ‘70s Neil Young, which to me approximates godliness. Not that this is a ripoff; a lot of great stuff just happens to sound like that. Now according to the label Web site this record was wholly written about economics. Apparently, Kiefer is a noted avant-gardist and I suppose this concept would qualify as that. But there’s not much that unusual in the grooves except for how good this is. It’s hard to pick highlights—nearly every track shares a palpable power with simple but compelling instrumentation and Kiefer’s at times enthralling voice. If I had to pick one, I’d say “Fisher King,” though it’s a little more Desire-era Dylan than Neil. Or maybe “Slow Rivers,” which you could mistake for Calexico. But this album’s consistency and integrity are among its many fine points. If this is a concept album, it is a rare one that works virtually to perfection. Probably because it’s about something everyone can relate to. Err…

But, seriously, an amazing record and a great triumph for Christian Kiefer.

2. Or, the Whale – Light Poles and Pines

A shockingly strong debut from this San Francisco band that combines proclivity for great roots tunes with enough ingenuity to dismiss any thought of derivation or convention. “Death of Me” is one of the most perfect country songs I have ever heard without sounding out of place in the 21^st century. Ditto with “Gonna Have To.” This is real, authentic modern heartbreak music. Brilliant multi-part harmonies and hot licks on a varied array of instruments are all over. The kind of record that makes feeling bad feel good. Simply wonderful.

3. Great Lake Swimmers – Ongiara (Nettwerk)

After two pleasantly nondescript albums that exemplify the most sympathetic connotation of “sleep inducing,” Toronto’s Tony Dekker and his sidemen wake us up a bit here. Sure, album opener “Your Rocky Spine” doesn’t exactly make you wanna pump your fist, but it’s enough to get your head bobbing a little bit. In the mold of Will Oldham or Jason Molina, Dekker’s Appalachian-tinged coo contains a delicate texture that some instrumental accoutrements only accentuate. When it is weaved amongst the banjo, cello, steady snare beat, and background vocals on “Backstage with the Modern Dancers,” the real eye-opener occurs, and the rest is just as beautiful. Dekker has found the proper formula for presenting his formerly stark sketches that sets him apart from the multitude of sheepish folkies.

4. Okkervil River – The Stage Names (Jagjaguwar)

I would call this a return to form for this great Austin band if it weren’t so different from their past work. Songwriter/frontman Will Sheff trades in his confessional tack for a literary one, a process that I suppose may have begun on the group’s curious 2005 Black Sheep Boy releases, but just didn’t come off. Here it is wall to wall great songs, including the eminently ingenious “Plus Ones.” But more than that, this record just has a different feeling than past releases. This is the first Okkervil release I would really describe as a rock record, though certainly not every track has the Bowie swagger of “Unless It’s Kicks,” and the stunningly beautiful country-baroque “A Girl In Port” harkens strongly to earlier days and is the most striking track here. But there are plenty of pleasant surprises here for fans, not least of which is the manic reading of “Sloop John B.” incorporated into the closing “John Allyn Smith Sails,” on which Jonathan Meiburg’s soaring harmonies—magnificent throughout—particularly shine.

5. Damon & Naomi – Within These Walls (20-20-20)

As aging hipsters continue to romanticize Galaxie 500 17 years after that band’s demise, most unjustly fail to note that its former rhythm section has put together a catalog that far outstrips its forerunner’s depth and quality. Damon Krukowski and Naomi Yang’s sixth duo album is perhaps their best and certainly their most majestic, given its departure from their often minimalist arrangements. Both have developed into absolutely enchanting vocalists over the years and effortlessly weave lilting melodies around their own accomplished instrumentation and exemplary contributions from guitarist Michio Kurihara and sax player Bhob Rainey.

Lou's Top 20 of 2007, Part 3

Here's the third in a four-part series revealing my choices for the Top 20 records of 2007. Feel free to submit your own list to purgegeeks@gmail.com and I'll strongly consider posting it.

6. Southeast Engine – A Wheel Within A Wheel (Misra)

An incredibly imaginative and varied sophomore set from this Athens, OH band that runs the gamut from country-folk to Beatle-y pop to grunge, sometimes—like on “Psychoanalysis”—all on one song. I guess the closest comparison may be to Ryan Adams’ schizophrenic oeuvre. Great melodies and enthusiastic instrumentation are the common threads throughout.

7. Mark Olson – The Salvation Blues (Hacktone)

Once upon a time—when he was leading the Jayhawks on their initial early ‘90s burst of greatness—Mark Olson was the next Gram Parsons. Then, like Gram, he headed out to Joshua Tree never to be heard from again. OK, really he retreated to the California desert with his wife and fellow singer-songwriter Victoria Williams (“Some people came here to die, we came here to live,” he sings on the virtually perfect “Clifton Bridge”) and made a few pleasant enough albums under the moniker Original Harmony Ridge Creekdippers. Unfortunately, it seems like it took their separation to precipitate Olson’s return to greatness here. The intensity and longing that make him one of the best vocalists ever committed to disc are back in force, and this record is chock full of touching, heartrending, and great songs worthy of his early work.

8. P.G. Six – Slightly Sorry (Drag City)

P.G. Six is New Yorker Pat Gubler and cohorts, who make their Drag City debut here. This reminds me a lot of ‘60s/’70s psych-folk genius Tom Rapp of Pearls Before Swine, which is saying a lot. It is beautiful and haunting. That’s really about all I can say.

9. Dave Gleason’s Wasted Days – Just Fall to Pieces (Well Worn)

Who says real country music is dead? These Californians unleash weepers complete with Telecaster-pedal steel tradeoffs and plenty of Gleason’s twang. Sure, “Right Back To Her Heart” owes heavily to Burritos-esque post-rock country with its Sneaky Pete-inspired psych-steel, but it leads right into “Train of Blue,” which could have come out of Sun Studio circa ’55. They go even further back with the country-blues of “Rusty Ol’ Halo” and the pure jukebox gold of “The Good’s Been Gone.” How about Western Swing on “Take Your Memory With You.” The aching ballad title track. And on and on through the annals of Americana in authentic and convincing fashion. There may not be another band like this one in the world today but God knows there should be.

10. The Dreadful Yawns – Rest (Exit Stencil)

Another beautiful, breezy, rootsy pop outing from these great and unheralded Clevelanders, and perhaps their best yet. Fittingly, they throw in a cover of a great and unheralded early Gram Parsons tune, “November Nights,” and it speaks volumes about the group’s own songs to say that it fits right in.

Lou's Top 20 of 2007, Part 2

Here's the second in a four-part series revealing my choices for the Top 20 records of 2007. Feel free to submit your own list to purgegeeks@gmail.com and I'll strongly consider posting it.

11. Brandon Butler – Lucky Thumbs (Gypsy Eyes)

On his second solo outing, Butler—formerly the frontman for the unique D.C. prog/roots outfit Canyon—beefs up the sound from 2004’s sparse Killer On the Road. The band starts out rocking on the opening “Sparks,” adds an almost eerie intensity to “Heaven Help Us” and garagey swagger to “Throw Back Rockers,” and pours a whiskey-tinged honky-tonk jangle into Butler’s audible open wound on “Born Beautiful.” All this fits Butler’s mournful voice and songs perhaps even better than his great yet more ambitious former band.

12. Black Tie Revue – Code Fun (Gearhead)

Get out your Terrible Towels! Call me a homer, but I say BTR’s full-length debut is one of the best platters of pop-punk we’ve heard in quite some time. Just like their live shows, it’s nonstop energy, hooks, and flat out rock. I hope this makes some out of town lists, too, ‘cause there aren’t many bands better than this anywhere.

13. The Breakup Society – Nobody Likes A Winner (Get Hip)

More Pittsburgh! Or at least Pittsburgh by way of Phoenix. On B.S. songwriter/frontman Ed Masley’s first album as a former Pittsburgher, his producer and fellow ‘Burgh export Bob Hoag provides him with a much more expansive template than on 2004’s excellent James at 35. Hoag’s keyboards and background vocals capably color the hooky garage-pop herein. Highlights include the angsty title track, the infectious “Another Candlelit Night,” “By A Thread,” a piece of pop perfection only helped by having the legendary Scott McCaughey of the Young Fresh Fellows and Minus 5 at the vocal helm, and the uncharacteristically subdued “This Doesn’t Matter,” which is capped by an almost disarming barrage of Spector-ness.

14. Rosie Thomas – These Friends of Mine (Sing-a-long/Nettwerk)

Beautiful, melancholy love songs whose emotions come through perfectly in Rosie’s delicate, breathy voice. Some truly emotional and heartbreaking stuff here. And while the covers of R.E.M.’s “The One I Love” and Christine McVie’s “Songbird” seem a little obvious, it’s only because they suit her so well. Thomas’ numerous well-known collaborators (Sufjan Stevens and Denison Witmer, who co-produced, plus Damien Jurado, David Bazan, Jeremy Enigk, etc.) stay mostly in the background as she ably claims the focal point. Primarily acoustic and home-recorded, the album strays from the more commercial vibe of her previous two releases and is all the better for it. What Thomas brings to bear with her songs and voice doesn’t need to be dressed up. I hope she isn’t always as sad as she sounds, but I know I’m not always as sad as when I listen, so…

15. Dolorean – You Can’t Win (Yep Roc)

Dolorean’s Al James finds some middle ground between the dark textures of 2003’s Not Exotic and 2004’s more rootsy Violence In the Snowy Fields. Calling James’ voice monotonous would belie the great emotion it exudes; it’s just not the kind of emotion that warrants anything more than a somber coo. For sure, none of Dolorean’s records are going to provide any sort of pick-me-up. This is up there with the saddest stuff around. But everything here—whether simple or structured—is exceptionally well put together and presented. It’s almost comforting that despair can sound so good.

Lou's Top 20 of 2007, Part 1

Here's the first in a four-part series revealing my choices for the Top 20 records of 2007. Feel free to submit your own list to purgegeeks@gmail.com and I'll strongly consider posting it.

16. Sodajerk – Sodajerk 2

This band pulled out of Pittsburgh headed for Atlanta just when they were getting great and have now apparently gone on hiatus on the heels of this, their fifth and best release. The titles of this album and its eponymous predecessor indicate that the band acknowledged it was just hitting its stride, so let’s hope their layoff is indeed temporary. Frontman Bucky Goldstein was once Alex Brenner, a great indie-pop composer in the early 2000’s local band Manifold Splendour who decided to try his hand at country. Today he is without a doubt Bucky, a truly authentic and talented country writer whether on the heartfelt (“Another Town,” “Long Time Coming”) or the bawdy (“Fuck ‘N’ Fight”). George Jones could sing “Paid By the Tear” without anyone having a second thought. Smokin’ sidemen like guitarist Jim Relja, keyboard player Randy Baumann, fiddler Bill Calhoun, and pedal steel player Pete Freeman help bring it all home. This record is loaded with great licks and tunes. It should dispel any notion of Sodajerk as anything less than a real and a great country band. Now we just have to hope they come back.

17. Jesse Malin – Glitter In the Gutter (Adeline)

This record lacks the immediacy of 2004’s incredible The Heat. The production is a little too “radio-friendly,” let’s say, for my taste, and a few of the lyrics are downright bad. So why do I like it so much? ‘Cause it rocks, Jesse writes ‘em hooky as hell, and dude could sing the goddam alphabet and make it sound like the most intense and emotional thing you could imagine. Malin does have a very distinctive—and really, idiosyncratic—vocal style that could be a sticking point for some, but I for one eat it up. One of the best out there even if he didn’t quite hit the bullseye with this one. “NY Nights” would be an AM radio hit if there was still such a thing, though.

18. Salim Nourallah – Snowing In My Heart (Tapete– Ger.)

You pretty much know what you are going to get from both of Dallas’s
Nourallah Brothers—Salim and Faris: Beatles, Badfinger, Kinks-inspired pop. The brothers have been traveling parallel roads since splitting up after their 2001 duet release, an indie-pop high water mark, and Salim takes the sibling rivalry’s prize for best solo release with this one, narrowly besting Faris’ 2003 Problematico. His disposition doesn’t exactly seem sunny (maybe cautiously optimistic at best), but that and his songs are both improved from 2005’s bleak Beautiful Noise. A 100% guarantee for pop lovers on this one.

19. Matt Pond PA – Last Light (Altitude)

I’ve always liked Matt Pond PA, but each succeeding sort of same-y charming soft-pop release (this is their seventh full-length) left me wondering more how long I would stick it out with them. But the feedback intro to the album-opening title track signals accurately that this record is a little different. A good deal of the tracks are pretty propulsive without losing their pop chops. Even a couple of the more sensitive tracks break them out of their previous cello-band m.o.: “Wild Girl” brings to mind an acoustic McCartney sketch, and “Sunlight” isn’t exactly a rocker but has an almost Stonesy swagger. Nothing here should be a total shock to long-time fans, but this record is a necessary step in a slightly new direction.

20. Phosphorescent – Pride (Dead Oceans)

This record is atmospheric. The songs seem like almost an afterthought. But there’s a bunch of crap going on and he is singing things and it sounds freakin’ cool. Think a country Galaxie 500 or Danielson on downers.

Best of 2007: Short ones

After 50 years of being twisted around and dragged through the mud, the term "ep" really doesn't mean a damn thing anymore. Here are the best records of the year that were too short to really be albums...

PURGe icon Will Oldham (that's Bonnie "Prince" Billy to the record-buying public), after making the best album of 2006, brings the geeks to their knees once again with Ask Forgiveness (Drag City). Assisted capably by Meg Baird and Greg Weeks of Espers, Will covers Mickey Newbury, Bjork, Danzig, Phil Ochs, Merle Haggard, Sinatra, and R. Kelly (seriously), all to great effect--plus throws in a top-notch, toe-tappin' country-ish original.

Also on the heels of one of last year's best, Vancouver's Ladyhawk offers up the ragged Fight for Anarchy (Jagjaguwar). The 'hawk does ragged as well as anyone, but well-crafted tunes and monster hooks easily wend their way through the racket.

Mysterious North Dakotan indie guy June Panic returned to the lofty heights of his 2000 magnum opus Horror Vacui with Bellybuttonlessboy on the Spanish Acuarela imprint. His edgy indie-folk is at its best here with hooks to spare, especially on "Over the Edge."

(June also released Songs from Purgatory this year, a 3CD compilation culled from his voluminous home recordings, on Secretly Canadian.)

Or, the Whale beaches in Pgh

Halfway through its first national tour, San Francisco's Or, the Whale pulled into a Pittsburgh darkened by power outages after last week's major storms. As the 9 p.m. scheduled showtime passed, band members squatted under the streetlights along Butler St. until--when everyone seemed just about ready to pack it in--the lights of Thunderbird Cafe began to twinkle.

Luckily, our town escaped being the first major mishap of this novel trek for the six-piece, who had been looking forward to visiting since sharing a bill in California with Local Honey. The band is touring in support of its debut release, Light Poles and Pines, a wholly self-produced effort released in May. Being solely responsible for the record sales hasn't bothered the band. "It's early enough where having our record in Best Buy doesn't do anything for us," says principal vocalist Alex Robins. Nor is he bothered by serving as in-house booking agent. "It's all on us--but we get to keep all the door money," he smiles.

But it's on stage where the band gets down to business. Right away they burst into remarkable four-part harmony on "Call and Response," which opens the album as well. But the Jordanaires this ain't. The band ably matches the soaring vocalizations with energetic and incendiary instrumentation. Julie Ann Thomasson's accordion on "Threads" makes it hard to stay in your seat, then on "Gonna Have to Go" she bashes out a honky tonk piano solo to match Matt Sartain's country gold guitar licks. Sartain provides a gritty, down-home lead vocal and blows some serious harp on "Bound to Go Home." On an anthemic, spiritual-like number intended for a forthcoming ep, some punk rock roots sneak through into Robins' banjo playing.




A broad range of Americana influences is evident in the songs, but Robins says the band is beginning to break into new territory. "A lot of our newer stuff isn't country at all," he says, "a lot of it is kind of funky." He said the last song he wrote was a Stones-inspired number, and cites a disparate array of influences. "I love Will Oldham, but I also like Kraftwerk and Can." Whatever the influence, he says, "it fleshes itself out by all the players."

Along with reentering the studio upon returning to the West Coast, the band will also continue to build a local following in the Bay Area that is large enough to warrant a headlining gig at Great American Music Hall. Despite that popularity, Robins said no label interest in the band has surfaced, but Robins said "We have no problem with that." With a record on the streets earning rave reviews and in the midst of a tour on which "there haven't really been any lowlights," living the DIY ethos has been "not at all a bad experience," Robins says.

From Light Poles and Pines to their fantastic Pittsburgh stop, it's been smooth sailing for Or, the Whale.



Photos by Karen Hoffmann

Matt Sartain strikes a chic pose in his Puerto Rican frog shirt.

Cool interview with record geek icon Scott McCaughey

From Namedropper.

Highlight:

BB: You travel a lot. Which locale scratches your itch?

SM: I'm always thrilled to be in Spain. I love Chicago. TOKYO! Cologne. Memphis. Ireland. Bologna. Pittsburgh. Athens GA. New Orleans. Oslo. Austin. Oz. You know the drill.

(emphasis added)

Great Lake Swimmers- Ongiara (2007)

After two pleasantly nondescript albums that exemplify the most sympathetic connotation of “sleep inducing,” Toronto’s Great Lake Swimmers wake us up a bit with new release Ongiara, the first by singer-songwriter Tony Dekker and his sidemen on the Nettwerk imprint. Sure, album opener “Your Rocky Spine” doesn’t exactly make you wanna pump your fist, but it’s enough to get your head bobbing a little bit. The rare addition of drums to the Swimmers’ mix puts some space between the listener and Dekker’s sorrowful mourn, which is enough to make anyone want to curl up in bed. In the mold of Will Oldham or Jason Molina, Dekker’s Appalachian-tinged coo contains a delicate texture that some instrumental accoutrements only accentuate. When it is weaved amongst the banjo, cello, steady snare beat, and background vocals on “Backstage with the Modern Dancers,” the real eye-opener occurs. Dekker has found the proper formula for presenting his formerly stark sketches that sets him apart from the multitude of sheepish folkies.

Sounding a bit like the bitter end of a war of attrition between a bluegrass combo and a chamber orchestra, the group coalesces throughout—whether on the sparse “There Is A Light,” which brings to mind Iron & Wine, or the vaguely Calypso “I Am Part of a Large Family.” One could easily imagine fellow Canadian Neil Young giving a reading of “Where In the World Are You” in one of his more sensitive moments. The common thread is lilting vocal melodies, which tend to overshadow the lyrics but highlight Dekker’s voice as another fully integral instrument.

Dekker does grant himself the album’s only fully solo track on “Passenger Song,” but whining pedal steel introduces the closing “I Became Awake,” which could almost pass for a timeworn spiritual. It’s a stirring conclusion from a band that had provided little motivation to stir before Ongiara. Dekker and Great Lake Swimmers appear to have achieved the quality that allows a few choice unassuming singer-songwriters into our consciousness. This one is too good to sleep through.

Great Lake Swimmers performs at Garfield Artworks Saturday, June 9.

Recent discoveries

Light Poles and Pines is the excellent debut by San Francisco's Or, the Whale. At first listen I though this may be one of those alt-countryish things that is pleasant enough but that I could really take or leave. But turns out it's almost indescribably great, so I guess I'll take it. It sounds like the Carter Family, George Jones, CS&N, Neil Young, The Band, The Eagles, The Long Ryders, and the Jayhawks. Except it's completely original. It is impeccably sung and played with enough creative flourishes that you couldn't call it derivative. This is a pretty amazing record and my early frontrunner for album of the year. I guess maybe it isn't even really out yet, but it is available in downloadable form, especially on eMusic.

Not to take anything away from some other good stuff I've gotten lately...

The Parish is another Bay Area band making their debut. I was prepared to say that The Way We Bend reminds me of early R.E.M. (which a lot of stuff seems to nowadays, for whatever reason), but with male-female harmonies, twangy guitars, and organ. So maybe it reminds me of the B-52's. But I hate to stick them with that. I guess it's like a lot of '60s influenced stuff from the early '80s that embraced the ethos if not the sound of punk, except it's from now and seems to embrace the ethos if not the sound of indie rock. Got that? The band released this on their own Cavalry label.

David Karsten Daniels gets a nice Will Oldham/Jason Molina vibe goin' on Sharp Teeth, his debut on the Fat Cat label. Dr. Dog, too, on the more muscular "American Pastime." I guess this is a really hip label and this record has got a "buzz," so what do ya need me for? Meanwhile...

Stumbling across New York City's The Subjects opening for rockin' locals Black Tie Revue at Brillobox a couple of months back was a lot like finding ten bucks on the street. If you do find ten bucks on the street, use it to buy With the Ease Grace Precision and Cleverness of Human Beings from Pretty Activity records. Both on stage and on record, the band--made up of two high school teachers and two former students--remind me of a less '60s-derivative Dr. Dog (yeah, them again...still can't get into their new record, by the way), with top notch melodies delivered by way of slightly off-kilter vocals and wonderfully loose and authentic background bashing. These guys will be returning to Pittsburgh June 2, on the bill of Black Tie Revue's CD release show at 31st Street Pub.

Also, The Rutabega--aka Josh Hensley of Goshen, Indiana--isn't really a new discovery, having produced one of my favorite albums of 2004 in These Knotty Lines, a set brimming with perfect pop. But I've finally gotten a hold of a copy of its follow-up, 2005's It's You, a fully DIY effort by Hensley from recording to distribution. It's You is more melancholy and atmospheric than Lines, but at no loss to effecting tunes. Comparisons to Elliot Smith have been prevalent since Hensley's 2002 debut Cobus Green, and it's clear why, though the new(er) release combines the powerful emotional delicacy Hensley's work shares with Smith's early records with more ambitious and engaging instrumental backing, though the sparse and lo-fi "A New Song" is maybe the most striking single track on the record. The vocals throughout--veering from seeming resignation to the lyrics' inherent sadness to aching wails desperate to escape it--suggest deeper emotion and meaning to Hensley's simplistic, often childlike, images. Particularly on "A Very Short Engagement" there's something unsettling about what outwardly is a sweet and pretty love song. Take it from me, you're not gonna run across this disc anywhere else, so it would be wise to hit up Hensley's online Patsy Presents imprint to get one for yourself.

In addition, the nasty rumors that Hensley has been collaborating with our own Friendstealer appear to be true. More to come on this development.

Henry's belated Top 10 records of 2006

Henry is a procrastinating record geek from the South Hills.

Vashti Bunyan – “Lookaftering” (DiCristina) A beautiful, haunting 2nd album from a contemporary of Nick Drake’s. Best song: “Here Before.”

David Mead – “Tangerine.” (Tallulah!) I’m a sucker for his voice, melodies, lyrics, and ukulele playing. Best song: “Hallelujah, I Was Wrong.”

Lloyd Cole – “Antidepressant.” (One Little Indian) Further adventures of a world-weary, literate curmudgeon. Best song: “Antidepressant.”

Bob Dylan – “Modern Times.” (Columbia) Ditto except for “Beyond The Horizon.” What the fuck? Best song: “Someday Baby.”

Elvis Costello & Allen Toussaint – “The River In Reverse.” (Verve) You can keep the recent rock stuff – Elvis now rules in every other genre. Best song: “International Echo.”

Ben Folds – “SuperSunnySpeedGraphic.” (Epic) His best piano playing since the 5. Points taken off for misogyny. Best song: “Dog.”

The Lemonheads – “The Lemonheads.” (Vagrant) A real surprise after Evan Dando’s lame solo gig at Club Café in the summer of 2005. Best song: “Become The Enemy.”

Margot & The Nuclear So-&-Sos – “The Retreat of Dust.” (Artemis/V2) The best melancholy pop album of the year. Best song: “Vampires In Blue Dresses.”

Jenny Lewis with The Watson Twins – “Rabbit Fur Coat.” (Team Love) The album Neko Case wishes she had made in 2006. Best song: "Happy."

Josh Rouse – “Subtitulo.” (Bedroom Classics) Lovely, acoustic tunes with a Spanish flavor. Best song: “Quiet Town.”

Crosby, Stills and Nash (2006 reissue) and David Crosby- If I Could Only Remember My Name (2006 reissue)

It's easy to look at Crosby, Stills & Nash as the ice patch that began the slippery slope that would descend rapidly from the heights of the Byrds and Buffalo Springfield to the dregs of the Eagles' and James Taylor's most insipid products. But some concocted cash-in this record was not. Rather, this is a snapshot in time of three musicians bouncing like pinballs between the highs and lows of their own careers and making a decent little pop record in the process whose reputation tends to become entwined in subsequent events.

Hard to fathom now, but none of these guys were really household names nor generally acknowledged as musical forces to be reckoned with when this record was made. Most musically accomplished was likely Graham Nash, who co-wrote and sang awe-inspiring harmonies on some of the best pop singles of the '60s as a member of the Hollies. That group, though, enjoyed a much higher profile at home in England than in the States. And by 1969, most "British Invasion" groups regardless of the level of brilliance their output reflected had mostly receded into anonymity.

David Crosby was probably the most "famous" of the three, having served as the McCartney stand-in for the pinups of America's answer to the Beatles, the Byrds. But that band's status as the best of the '60s next to the Fab Four had precious little to do with Crosby. While his harmonic prowess rivaled Nash's and was integral to the Byrds' groundbreaking sound, only a couple of the small handful of his compositions in the group are notable, and when he tried to assert himself during the recording of The Notorious Byrd Brothers it resulted in the band's few pompous moments and the breakup of the classic original group.

Neil Young walked away with most of the buzz after the breakup of Buffalo Springfield, a group that had seriously underachieved after copious initial hype. This left some very good moments that Stills masterminded in the group's waning days largely unnoticed. Tracks like "Special Care" and "Questions" hew very closely to what Stills would accomplish on CS&N.

Because what the remastered reissue of this album more generally regarded as hippie artifact than musical creation shows more than ever is that it is effectively Stills' accomplishment alone--and clearly his crowning one.

While Nash's songs on the record are unpredictably weak departures from his impressive resume as a pop composer, and Crosby's work clearly displays the heavy-handedness he suffered from throughout his career, Stills contributes a diverse array of solid compositions. Stills also virtually cobbled the album's backing tracks together singlehandedly, handling the lion's share of guitar parts as well as bass and keyboards.

The remastering job on this issue is exquisite. I had become so used to the thin layer of harmony over deadened instruments that it was like I was hearing this album for the first time. You can hear the trio actually singing together instead of an assimilated whine. And inventive bass playing and guitar work by Stills that had been buried is everywhere, adding life to even the album's less substantive numbers.

The album-closer "49 Bye-Byes" is particularly well crafted song and recording. This is sunshine pop with a sense of purpose not far removed from Rubber Soul or Revolver-era Beatles. "Helplessly Hoping" could have been the beginning of the sensitive singer-songwriter bit that would induce vomiting within a few years, but it's among the most redeeming examples of the subgenre. "You Don't Have To Cry" is the type of vaguely country-inflected pop number that may have saved Buffalo Springfield had Stills come up with it a couple years earlier. And as much as you want to malign "Suite: Judy Blue Eyes," which seems like a cliche today, it's a relatively heartfelt and adventurous vestige of flower power.

Unfortunately, Stills' days of inspiration and musical adventure ended here. His contributions to the follow up, Deja Vu, largely reflected the pomposity and relative pointlessness he quickly settled into. Nash reasserted his pop genius with "Teach Your Children" and "Our House," Crosby contributed his best number to the group in "Almost Cut My Hair," and of course Neil Young's addition--adding the ultra-powerful "Helpless" and his incendiary guitar--made it look as though Stills was just taking up space.

And while I'll admit to not being familiar enough with Stills' early solo work to posit that he never did anything worthwhile again, I can say with great confidence that they didn't match his bandmates' striking yet relatively ignored solo products of the next year--least of all Young's After the Gold Rush, this reviewer's favorite album of all time, but also Nash's affecting Songs for Beginners and Crosby's If I Could Only Remember My Name...

Name... has recently undergone the Rhino deluxe reissue treatment, concurrently with the release of a three-CD box set retrospective on Crosby. And while the latter is almost laughable in its indulgence, don't discount the former even given its hefty price tag and dubious bonus DVD.

The album begins with "Music Is Love," a lighweight riff and dippy slogan laid down by Crosby before Young and Nash rescued it, put some meat on its bones, and made it into a beautiful, if incongruous, intro to the album. Much of Name... explores the very dark areas of Crosby's mind, brought to the fore by the recent death of his girlfriend Christine Hinton in a freak auto accident.

"Cowboy Movie" follows, an angry and emotional rocker hinging on Crosby's too-infrequently featured but excellent rhythm guitar playing. The track is remarkably similar to "Revolution Blues" from Young's On the Beach lp, on which Crosby's rock solid playing is also a highlight and which tells a not dissimilar story of depravity in a scary underworld all too real to the two. But while Young's tale is about his too-close-for-comfort associations with the Manson family, the liner notes to this reissue reveal that "Movie" is an allegory to CSN&Y itself. Most of the Grateful Dead backs Crosby on the song, with Jerry Garcia and Phil Lesh capably matching his instrumental power.

"Laughing" is more in keeping with Crosby's usual of tack of concocting mystical imagery that too often gets away from him. It doesn't here, and stands out as probably the best song he would come up with in his career. The backing track is other-worldly (especially Garcia's pedal steel and Joni Mitchell's backing vocal) in keeping with the lyrical subject matter of searching for spiritual fulfillment. It's easy to imagine the song played by the Notorious-era Byrds, and the fact that Crosby would re-record it on that group's reunion lp in the near future indicates he might have had the same thought. The version here outmatches the reading on that less-than-inspired album, though.

"Song With No Words (Tree With No Leaves)" is one of several tracks on the album on which Crosby forgoes lyrics altogether. I'm usually not much for this type of thing, but it works to perfection here. His wordless vocalisations carry a lilting melody that an inspired lead guitar (Garcia? Jorma Kaukonen?) picks up toward the end. Let's face it, Crosby isn't the most gifted lyricist, and this format probably gets his palpably deep emotions across better than any words could have.

Sadly, this album's greatness is more or less an anomaly in Crosby's career, much as CS&N is to Stills'. Yet it indicates that maybe there's something to the fact that they maintain such a devoted following among many of those who came of age in the brief moments when the two were creating something special. For the rest of us, the question then is whether these singular triumphs make their future transgressions easier to forgive or just harder to swallow.

2007...The year of PURGe

Karen resolves to listen to enough new records in 2007 to compile her own list.

Friendstealer comes crawling back

friendstealer has trouble remembering all the records he stole last year.

put these right in a row at 6 & 7

phoenix - it's never been like that (astralwerks)

I was introduced to the music of phoenix by the use of their all-time classic single, "too young," in the film lost in translation. it's a great scene (look it up.) their albums have never really delivered the total pop of that song. this one does. more hooks than a sack of hooks or something like that...

phil boyd and the hidden twin - s/t (faux totem)

I keep forgetting that this came out this year, because it came out early. I'm no fan of the modey lemon, although the one live show I saw was pretty intense, but this phil boyd "weird folk" (or whatnot) record is pretty magical. I used to listen to it at work a lot. I don't work there anymore, but I can still listen to it.

remove sean lennon and belle & sebastian, if you dare

A Different Rob's Top Three of 2006

Rob is a minimalist record geek from Friendship.

This year for various reasons--mostly financial (eat it, Sallie Mae)--
I've only heard three albums that were released in 2006 in their
entirety. Not enough for a Top 20, Top Ten, or really any multiple of
five list, so instead, here are my Top Three Records of 2006.

1. The Evens- Get Evens (Dischord)

You know how in the Karate Kid, Mr. Miagi starts out teaching Daniel
how to fight by having him wash his car and paint his fence, and then
later, Daniel discovers that Mr. Miagi has really been teaching him
how to fight the whole time, because the secret to karate are the
basics moves, timing, and balance? The Evens are like Mr. Miagi. For
a rock band, they're about as stripped down as you can get: two
people- one plays drums, the other plays guitar, and they both sing.
When they tour they bring their own PA, and two light bulbs attached
to guitar stands for lights, and that's it. No keyboards, no second
guitar parts, no orchestral arrangements (really no other instruments
period), no effects pedals- they don't even have distortion on the
electric guitar.

They're quiet and unassuming but The Evens can still kick your ass.
Ian Mackaye plays a baritone guitar, which has both the low-end, bassy
sound of a umm... bass, with the melodic notes of a guitar. Amy
Farina, his partner in the Evens, plays gently, giving the drums a
crazy amount of texture. Mackaye's not yelling as much as he did in
Fugazi and Minor Threat, but the vocals still have that anthemic
quality that invites you to sing along. And the lyrics manage to be
political while still leaving room for interpretation and thinking-
a rarity these days. The Evens don't sound angry so much as very
firm (again, the Karate Kid comes to mind), something few other bands
that sing "political" songs manage to pull off. In interviews and at
shows, Mackaye has said that he's not as interested in "smashing the
state" so much as building alternatives. In other words, instead of
just getting mad, maybe we should... you know...

2. Armalite- s/t (No Idea)

Armalite's debut CD is punk rock as catchy as it gets (and fast--11
songs in under 25 minutes), with lyrics that speak to people who went
to punk and hardcore shows as teenagers, are now in our mid 20's to
30's, and are like, "well... now what?" The first song, "Entitled" is
most specifically about "the adult crash," but there are other songs
about having close friends scattered all over the East Coast, being a
parent, and voting. It's nice to be reminded that I'm not the only
one freaking out about this stuff, and there's something reassuring
about hearing it yelled over blazing fast, distorted guitars.

Interesting note about the band members--Armalite has sort of an
all-star line up from the Philly punk scene: Dan Yemin from Lifetime
and Kid Dynamite is on bass, Mike McKee, editor of the magazine
Rockpile, sings and plays guitar, and Atom Goren, of Atom and his
Package ("his Package" being a synthesizer that he used to record
geeky, 80's new-wavy sounding songs), also sings and plays guitar, and
despite being married, the father of a two-year-old, and a high school
Physics teacher, still sounds like he's eight years old.

3. Hi Tek- Hi Teknology, Vol. 2: The Chip (Okay Player)

Actually, this one kinda sucked--but since its the only other album I
heard in 2006, here it is. It had the potential to be great--Hi Tek
produced a bunch of songs on the Black Star album, and this album has
guest appearances by some of my favorite rappers: Talib Kweli, Common,
Mos Def, Q-Tip--but I think that just made it more disappointing when
I actually heard it. There is one really good song on this one--"Where it Started At"--but everything else is just 'eh.' I'd say more about it, but I don't have it anymore- I ended up trading it in at The Exchange for a dollar and a Soul Rebels Brass Band CD. (Mini-review
from the guy working at the register: "Why do you want to return it--because it SUCKS?")

Friendstealer's Top 20 of 2006

friendstealer is a record geek and recording artist from kittanning.

1. joanna newsom – ys (drag city)

yeah, I decided to listen to it more closely after seeing the arthur piece and photos. I've got blood in me....c'mon.

I go to sleep to this a lot and couldn't dream of coming up with it...in a good way.

2. mew - and the glass-handed kites (evil office)

this album went thru a big series of emotional crap with me this year. without going into a bunch of self-descriptive garbage, it's good for joy, heartbreak, and sometimes just a good nap.

3. bonnie 'prince' billy - the letting go (drag city)

I hated this...went into some big rant about how I was ready for oldham to come off the soft rock trip. shows you what I know. the little instrumental break in the second song will break the heart and fortify, all at once and stuff.

4. howlin rain - s/t (birdman)

evidently, I enjoy this album more than anyone else in the world, excepting maybe their moms or girlfriends. well, that's fine with me. sure, there's a mention of beer, but I'll let it slide. it sounds likes the black crowes.

5. colossal yes - acapulco roughs (ba da bing)

along with the 2 good songs on the comets record, which is generally been-done unlistenability, these are some nice pop moments, full of hooks and drama. I like that. that's cool with me.

6. black keys - magic potion (nonesuch)

just because rock and roll's evil and I'm trying to be a better person, doesn't mean I'm a brick wall.

7. shearwater - palo santo (misra)

lou says this bores him. I think it's their best and most dramatic album yet. who's right? probably neither one of us, but you get the point.

8. ladyhawk - s/t (jagjaguwar)

can you listen to 'the dugout' without pumping your fist and thinking about everything you can and cannot ever have in this shitty world? probably. I have a hard time doing it, though, and right now, it's all about me.

9. magnolia electric company - fading trails (secretly canadian)

my favorite jason molina record ever...and just when I was about to throw in the towel. these songs get in and out pretty well. they're no-nonsense. right off the bat, it's like, "don't fade on me..." damn right, jason. I feel ya.

10. albert hammond, jr. - yours to keep (rough trade-u.k.)

okay, I hate the strokes. this album is also named after (I'm assuming) a guided by voices song...I hate guided by voices more than any other musical entity not named stephen stills. still...(haha)...this thing is great. simple. from the heart. real. you might cry, but you also might just dig it. it's like a way better jonny polonsky or however you spell his name...or a less musical jason falkner or something.

11. jeremy enigk - world waits (lewis hollow)

I saw sunny day real estate years before I really took to their music. jeremy was a hooded figure who, I swear, had an older dude who seemed to be functioning as his "handler" or some shit. I was amused. now, it all seems so right. this guy can sing, and he brings the drama. these are great things in my world.

12. wooden wand & the sky high band - second attention (kill rock stars)

I don't really have anything to say about this. I dig it a lot, as I do most of his stuff. there's some stones in here to go with the charlie, if you need it.

13. kaki king - until we felt red (velour)

I truthfully have listened to this less than anything here, so I may be the wrong person to comment on it, but it seems a lot more standard song-oriented to me. I love her stuff and this is nothing but a welcome slight change for a pedestrian dude like me. she plays guitar, in case you didn't know. she's on, like, guitar magazine covers and stuff...

14. raconteurs - broken boy soldiers (v2)

what can I say? I mean, it's plain and simple devotional rock, I'd say.

15. fiery furnances - bitter tea (fat possum)

surely more standard than the ones before it. still, it's not like you'd hear it in giant eagle. if I could make an album with my sister, it would sound nothing like this, but that's not really any kind of indictment.

16. minus 5 - s/t (yep roc)

this should be higher...maybe I just take scott for granted. god, he's one of the very very few people who make records this far into a career that can stand up to their early work. not to mention his hardcore straight-edge values, values which inspire me everyday.

17. sean lennon - friendly fire (capitol)

I love this a lot, but I can tell you right now, I may not listen to it for a few years. there's some painful shit here. it sounds like elliott smith and that kinda vibe...and julian lennon...

18. belle & sebastian - the life pursuit (matador)

their best record. yes.

19. danielson - ships (secretly canadian)

dude's got a lot to live up to, his dad being the incredible lenny smith, and he does a pretty damned good job here.

20. jason molina - let me go, let me go, let me go (secretly canadian)

I don't like it as much as his other record from this year, but this is a fine return to form after a couple of genuinely crappy albums. the guy loves randy rhoades. do you need more?

Rob's Top 20 of 2006

Rob is a record geek from Regent Square.

1. Boris - Pink (Southern Lord)

Records these days don't really get any more whalloping than this one. For the better part of Pink, this near-legendary underground trio sound eerily like a Japanese Stooges on cheap trucker's speed colliding with the breathtaking psych freakout guitar of the lovely Wata (every music geek's fave-rave pin-up guitar-hero waif--think Faye Wong in Chungking Express for a quick reference point). Warning: Don't be lulled/fooled by the uber-shoegazing/MBV-inspired wall of gauze that is the opener, "Farewell"; it's the piercing feedback wail at the start of the title track that more accurately sets the tone for the rest of this wild ride. (And yes, oh Jap-psych snobs, I realize that a version of this was released outside of the U.S. last year. I even like the old cover more than the new cover. However, the nine extra freak-ee-out-ee minutes added to "Just Abandoned My-Self" gave me--in my mind, anyway--enough justification to count this edition as a new release for this year.)

2. Nina Nastasia - On Leaving (Fat Cat)

Nina Nastasia has based her career on peddling faintly-queasy (in a junk sick kind of way)-but-absolutely rapturous beauty, and this album may be her most beautiful. The songs here are often not more than fragments, yet they always leave me wanting more. That she's consistently recruited the Dirty Three's Jim White to drum on her records (as well as the mighty Steve Albini to produce them--only Steve could get acoustic records to sound this way) further compounds my admiration.

3. Joanna Newsom - Ys (Drag City)

I can't really add to the heaps of adjectives that have already been showered upon this unbelievably ambitious and heartbreaking release, so I won't even try to address it on those terms. I do want to say, however, that although Van Dyke Parks can certainly arrange an avant-pop tune, it's not so much his much-vaunted contributions to this record that have knocked me on my proverbial ass, but rather the songs (I'd almost call them "compositions" if such a word would not summon up unpleasant memories of my teenaged trawling through ELP records) themselves and the unbelievable amount of emotion that every boy's favorite indie-rock harpist pin-up is able to convey through her vocals. "Sawdust & Diamonds," the song that most resembles her past work, is actually my personal favorite on the album, although to me, anyway, this album is superior in every way to her prior releases.

4. Colossal Yes - Acapulco Roughs (Ba Da Bing)

This album really sneaked up on me just prior to my completing both my "best of '06" mix CD and this list. Eleven luxuriantly orchestral piano ballads served up in the noble tradition of Plush's Liam Hayes by... well, the drummer from psychedelic cowboys Comets on Fire! Go figure. As much as I love Comets (three Comets-related projects are actually on my top 40 records for the year), this album has really found a way into my psyche. I simply cannot stop listening to it and the epic "Poor Boy's Zodiac" could well be the greatest single songwriting and arranging achievement from this year. I look forward to seeing what Utrillo Kushner cooks up next.

5. Thom Yorke - The Eraser (XL)

Although I own every Radiohead release from The Bends through Hail to the Thief (Pablo Honey's warmed-over U2-isms are flat-out inexcusable), I don't really want to like the band and, in particular, I don't want to like Thom Yorke. As a result, I resisted this record for the better part of six months, thinking, "Thom Yorke is the most pretentious part of Radiohead (see all of his comments relating to Kid A at the time of its release). Surely his first solo album will suck...." Well, I was wrong. Dead wrong. This record is gorgeous, all warm & fuzzy analog synths, close-mic'ed vocals, and treated guitars. There is a strong possibility that "Harrowdown Hill," "Black Swan" and the title track could be three of my absolute favorite songs of the year. And, as an added bonus, Yorke mercifully keeps his Bono-esque vocal malapropisms to an absolute minimum.

6. Bob Dylan - Modern Times (Columbia)

Another record that, prior to listening, I couldn't imagine liking. I'm a *huge* of Dylan in his prime, but aside from 1997's somewhat overpraised Time Out of Mind, I haven't really dug a Dylan album since 1978's chronically underrated Street-Legal. When Love & Theft was released five years ago, I read the intensely positive critical reaction to the record and rushed out to buy...a completely unfocused set of blooz shuffles that featured His Bobness wheezing unbearable cliches. I assumed this record would be more of the same until my buddy Sam pressed a copy of it onto me a few months ago and I was knocked out on first listen. The nimble and loose R 'n' B poetics of the opening triumvirate--"Thunder on the Mountain" (with its completely disarming reference to Alicia Keys), "Spirit on the Water" and Bob's mighty reworking of Muddy Waters' "Rollin' and Tumblin'"--are worth the price of admission alone, and other standout tracks like "Workingman's Blues 2" and "Ain't Talkin'" are more than just icing on the cake.

7. Sparks - Hello Young Lovers (In the Red)

Sparks' latest release is bold, refreshing and dazzling, with Ron Mael's caustic, absurdist wit completely intact (see the "Dick Around" opener as Exhibit A) and Russell Mael's operatic vocals sounding better than they have any right to sound in 2006. After years of languishing in the post-New Wave delete bin, Sparks--via the brisk pop of "Perfume,” sleekly ironic protest of "Baby, Baby (Can I Invade Your Country?)" and sprawling grandeur of "As I Sit to Play Organ at Notre Dame Cathedral", to name just three--have certainly returned to the vanguard of contemporary music.

8. Jarvis Cocker - Jarvis (Rough Trade-U.K.)

I've been fairly infatuated with Jarvis Cocker's persona (lyrical and otherwise) since I first became aware of his (former? I'm unclear as to whether they've formally disbanded) band, Pulp, in the early '90s. Classic singles like 1992's "Babies," 1993's "Do You Remember the First Time," 1995's "Common People" and 1998's "Help the Aged" defined Jarvis’s lyrical niche as the louche kitchen-sink voyeur with the clever turn of phrase and heart of gold. On this, his first solo record, he explores and refines his usual themes—soured middle-class relationships, sex, alienation, state-of-the-world existential angst—with a more straightforward attack that emphasizes guitars over keyboards. This approach pays off in general and fares exceptionally well on Jarvis classics like “From Auschwitz to Ipswich,” “Black Magic” (complete with “Crimson & Clover” riff sample), and “Running the World” (the brilliantly corrosive anti-Live 8 anthem premiered on MySpace and included here as a bonus track).

9. Tom Waits - Orphans (Anti-)

Jesus, this is something—a welcome three-disc clearinghouse that’s bursting at the seams with every conceivable type of Tom-ness. On disc one, we get the Beefheartian carnival barker cranking his hurdy gurdy over varying degrees of clamoring cacophony (some of which, like "Bottom of the World," my personal favorite on the whole set, can still be downright melodic). On disc two, the Piano Man--you know, the archetypal piano ballads that tug at the heartstrings and fire up the synapses in a way that the Long Island Antichrist (read: Billy Joel) couldn't even conjure in the most inflated recesses of his own ego. And on disc three, well... there are both of those guys and some genuinely creepy fellow travelers (the droll narrator of “Army Ants” springs to mind). Strangely, this collection of outtakes and uncollected tracks somehow holds together as his most essential, potentially most cohesive work since 1984’s jaw-dropping Rain Dogs (although arguments in favor of 1991’s Bone Machine or 2004’s Real Gone will be certainly be considered in the alternative).

10. The Flaming Lips - At War With the Mystics (Warner Bros.)

On their latest release, the Lips--once one of rock's most cheerfully unhinged, genuinely challenging art-punk outfits--regain some much-needed cajones after the mind-blowing (yet scintillatingly cerebral and cinematic) blast of The Soft Bulletin and the faintly warmed-over, drum-machine-led philosophizing of Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots. (Note: Before I get death threats for undervaluing the universally-acclaimed Yoshimi, let me mention that I at least *like* it... it's just hard for me to actively worship a record that's universally championed by just about every uber-precocious child spawned by one of my friends.) Standout tracks like the skeletally propulsive “Free Radicals,” the oh-so-Floydian “Pompeii Am Gotterdammerung,” and “The W.A.N.D.” find these Oklahomans rediscovering their freak flag and find multi-instrumental force of nature Steve Drozd rediscovering his drumkit after a heroin-enforced layoff (he’s now clean and sober after years of abuse). On the other side of their sonic spectrum, “The Sound of Failure” (with its tsk-tsk shout-outs to Britney Spears and Gwen Stefani) and the lovely closer “Goin’ On” explore their more incantory qualities with great success. The end result is one of the most consistent albums in the Flaming Lips’ oeuvre.

Bubbling under:

11) The Essex Green - Cannibal Sea (Merge)

12) Sir Richard Bishop - Fingering the Devil

13) Albert Hammond, Jr. - Yours to Keep (Rough Trade-U.K.)

14) Mission of Burma - The Obliterati (Matador)

15) Wooden Wand & the Sky High Band - Second Attention (Kill Rock
Stars)

16) Arctic Monkeys - Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not (Domino)

17) Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy - The Letting Go (Drag City)

18) Graham Coxon - Love Travels at Illegal Speeds (Transcopic)

19) The Pink Mountaintops - Axis of Evol (Jagjaguwar)

20) Simon Joyner - Skeleton Blues (Jagjaguwar)

Lou's Top 20 of 2006, Part 4

Here's the last in a four-part series revealing my choices for the Top 20 records of 2006. Feel free to submit your own Top 5, 10, 20, or 25 to purgegeeks@gmail.com and I'll strongly consider posting them.

1) Bonnie 'Prince' Billy- The Letting Go (Drag City)

Those of us who have stuck with Will Oldham since his bewitching early work in the Palace Brothers have had our share of rewards, but I for one had written off the possibility of him ever again reaching the heights of genius that the initial trinity of 1993's There Is No One What Will Take Care of You, 1994's Palace Brothers (aka Days In the Wake), and 1995's Viva Last Blues had. Yet here we are more than a decade later and Oldham--after a few persona shifts--has given us his most enchanting release. But while his early classics were glorious in their off-kilter and seemingly slapdash nature, his new masterwork gives me the feeling of a room where eveything is so perfectly in its place that you're almost afraid to breathe. The expertly placed acoustic and electric guitars; the often otherworldly supporting vocals of Dawn McCarthy; the heavily utilized string section; Oldham's phrasing and the spots where his voice echoes. Even the familiar sound of an uncomfortable (yet usually thrilling) crack in Oldham's voice seems to be thematically placed on the most effecting track, "Then the Letting Go," which perfectly conjures the bleak winter scene the lyrics set. "No Bad News" has the musical feel of a still fiery and defiant Phil Ochs in his post-topical period before segueing into a pretty coda reminiscent of some of Phil's far more innocent-sounding '60s folk contemporaries, a vibe which carries over onto "Big Friday." The grittier "The Seedling" is more typical Oldham fare, but is still far more meticulously arranged than most of his work. "I Called You Back," a somber pop ballad that brings to mind Plastic Ono Band-era John Lennon, closes the album. Oldham's lyrics are far less opaque and more poetic than usual, with the depth of feeling closer to the surface and more likely to be evident in the song structure than in a lunatic wail. While you can see in this album's majesty a culmination of incremental style changes across past records, it is still almost shocking in its completeness and the very different brand of beauty it exudes from his beloved early work.

2) Belle & Sebastian- The Life Pursuit (Matador)

Continuing the theme of "the best get better" from #1, the acclaimed Scottish collective turn in their sixth and best full-length, a fantastically varied collection of pop tunes that persists in its perfection no matter in which direction they turn. While 1997's If You're Feeling Sinister--their second LP--put B&S on the map and remains a high water mark of post-1960s pop, it simply pales next to Pursuit and seems like a musical lifetime ago for the band. After that excellent record and a string of precious EPs, the quality of the group's output fell off dramatically on its next two records. 2003's Dear Catastrophe Waitress was an initital shock to fans in its departure from the band's well-defined sound. It was hard to be surprised anymore that the glorious spirit of Sinister hadn't been replicated, but repeated listens indicated that the band was better off for having moved beyond its initial m.o. into more adventurous, ambitious, and creative territory. Pursuit continues this evolution to astounding effect. "Another Sunny Day" sounds like the Mr. Tambourine Man-era Byrds come across another mystifying Dylan sketch to make their own, and maybe Clarence White happens into the picture a few years early to add some spine-tingling countrified guitar touches; "The Blues Are Still Blue" follows the path the Beach Boys could have if Brian Wilson had come back from lunch in the mid-70s; "Funny Little Frog" conjures the thought of a Bacharach-produced Blonde On Blonde; "For the Price of a Cup of Tea" blurs the line between Kevin Ayers and the disco-era Bee Gees; "Mornington Crescent" closes the album with a melancoly and loosely played yet strkingly pretty tune worthy of After the Gold Rush. What seems like effortlessly great songwriting mingles with beautiful harmonies and ebullient instrumentation throughout. Principal vocalist Stewart Murdoch's Donovan-esque whisper isn't the focal point it was in the early days, which seems to allow the overall sound to escape a tendency toward the twee, and guitarist Stevie Jackson's vocal chops are dramatically improved over albums past. The days of longing for that Sinister feeling have truly given way to The Life Pursuit.

3) The Lancaster Orchestra- Never Once Cried When I Could Have (Rootsy)

From the very limited information I can find about The Lancaster Orchestra, it appears that singer/ songwriter Carl Mathson is Swedish, or at least lives and records in Sweden. Which is surprising because the guy sounds like he couldn't have come from anywhere not within earshot of Nashville. This record is filled with beautfully melancholy country songs, some--like "I Remember That Time So Well"--sprightly despite their melancholy, and expertly played on acoustics, pedal steel, piano, organ, banjo, etc. by other apparent Swedes who happen to sound like they could have laid down the backing tracks to Nashville Skyline in their last session. The band veers in the direction of a more-polished Palace Brothers on "Rocks, Spits, and Cries." "Save Me From Myself," the album's poppiest track, brings to mind the most accessible work of Damien Jurado, whose voice Mathson's strongly resembles. Every track is a thrilling surprise in how complete, effecting, and faithful to the finest qualities of the Americana genre it is. And not surprising just because these recordings come from Sweden, but because they are as good as any similarly spirited album that has come before.

4) Danielson- Ships (Secretly Canadian)

Over the course of eight albums under a number of variations on the Danielson trademark, Daniel Smith has evolved from an utter enigma into merely an oddity: A Christian artist whose religious themes could be identified by probably only the most perceptive or imaginative listener, making records steeped in eclectic indie-pop and -folk and topped with his key-bending falsetto. All of his work is "interesting," to utilize a term that could be interpreted either critically or charitably, but has become less and less "challenging" over time, to use another. Ships brings to mind the most childlike work of Jonathan Richman or '60s British psych-folk as played by an elementary school marching band. Which makes it sound less expertly constructed and immaculate in its chaotic nature than it comes out. The songs are more coherently constructed and accessible than on any previous Danielson release, though the average Joe on the street still might go running for a set of earplugs if he heard this one. But I have a feeling being average or widely accepted is not something Smith has ever striven for or ever will, even should his work continue on an incremental path toward normalcy. He has proven himself a capable craftsman of distinctive songs and recordings rather than just a weirdo, but Ships is just normal--and weird--enough to be one of the best albums of the year and a great achievement for its artist.

5) Ladyhawk (Jagjaguwar)

The debut by this Vancouver four-piece is as purely a rock record as is likely to be made in an era rife with both reliance on studio trickery by the mainstream and the reflexive tendency toward minimalism in indie rock. Four guys banging and screaming it out with little more than some overdubbed hand claps or a heartily strummed acoustic creeping through the mix to dress it up. But, of course, most anyone can bang it out. Catchy pop songs and dread-filled dirges alike are enfused with raw emotion, captivating hooks, and engaging lyrical turns of phrase here. The intensity of both Duffy Driediger's expressive vocals and the musical responses bring to mind a sweaty, early Springsteen gig. "The Dugout" manages to recall both KISS and Pavement in the space of one monstrous hook. Ladyhawk clearly possesses in large quantity the indefinable quality that links great rock music of any strain or era.

Lou's Top 20 of 2006, Part 3

Here's the third in a four-part series revealing my choices for the Top 20 records of 2006. Feel free to submit your own Top 5, 10, 20, or 25 to purgegeeks@gmail.com and I'll strongly consider posting them.


6) Neil Young- Living With War (Reprise)

No one but Neil Young could have made an album almost wholly about a political topic without it coming off as heavy-handed and pretentious. Hell, probably no one but Neil Young could have made an album prominently featuring a 100-voice choir and trumpets without the same result. The legend does both here, and he makes it great. Taking raw emotion and alternately pummeling or caressing it into timeless music is what Neil has done best throughout his career. When he wails "...Don't need no stinkin' waaarrrrrrr!" in the first seconds of the opening track, it is clear that he means it, and he takes it from there. Whatever is inside Neil Young that has made him the most powerful single force in the history of rock comes out in his voice and guitar all over this record. It just happens that the songs are political, though I'll admit no one singing what amounts to a political slogan has ever made my ears perk up like Young does here--with the possible exception of Phil Ochs, who Neil thanks for inspiration in the liner notes. In both cases, this isn't beacuse of the words they're singing, but who they are and they power they bring to the song as individual performers. On a purely musical level, this is the most inspired and authentic record Young has made since Rust Never Sleeps. Sure, he could have chosen a better word here or there, or paid a little closer attention to fitting the melody into the backing track just so, but name me a Neil Young record that is conventionally perfect. Through its courage and timeliness, but especially for the energy, quality, and authenticity here, this album does more to add to his to his legend and mountainous stature than any Neil Young has made in decades.

(Note: Reprise will release Living With War Raw, undubbed rough mixes of the basic album tracks, with a bonus DVD December 19.)

7) The Minus 5 (Yep Roc)

Scott McCaughey has been writing and recording great songs for upwards of 20 years now as leader of the Young Fresh Fellows and now this solo project cum supergroup, making its seventh full-length release here. But his writing has truly become more inventive--especially lyrically--over the years, while sacrificing none of its most refreshing and engaging qualities. In some ways, this is a back-to-basics release for McCaughey, with the studio accoutrements of his recent Wilco-backed releases mostly giving way to solid yet simplistic backing by core support players Peter Buck, John Ramberg, and Bill Rieflin, and unquestionably strong pop sensibilities that have sometimes been muted in the M5 coming to the fore. The Help! through Revolver Beatles are a palpable influence throughout, especially in the well-placed guitar breaks, middle eight harmonies, and Harrison-esque solo of "Out There On the Maroon." The bouncy piano- and organ-driven "My Life As A Creep" veers closer to early solo McCartney territory with its barked title vocal hook followed by a bright-sounding bridge. Despite his deserved reputation as a fun and occasionally downright goofy songsmith, McCaughey has never shied away from darker themes, though they're sometimes kept nearly undetectable through sprightly presentation. The M5, though, has been an outlet for his more overtly "downer" material over the years, and McCaughey takes both tacks here. "Aw Shit Man" is maybe the most apparently painful lyric that he has committed to disc, but is immersed in a brisk cartoon punk tune, while "Bought A Rope" is almost eerie in its melding of discomfiting lyrics, whining pedal steel, pulsing synth, and echoey electric piano. To wrap things up, Scott lets his garage roots show on the totally rocking "Original Luke."

To say that an album ranks among the best in McCaughey's catalog is no faint praise, and this one fits the bill.

8) Skygreen Leopards- Disciples of California (Jagjaguwar)

This is probably the most aptly titled release of the year, as the Leopards (who are in fact Californians) revisit the bygone era straddling the turn of the '70s when the Golden State turned out the best music in the world. You'd almost swear these guys had to have been there listening as the Notorious-era Byrds rehearsed a set of new tunes for the first time, or as the classic original Flying Burrito Brothers lineup coalesced at the storied "Burrito Manor." Disciples doesn't come across as an imitation or a tribute to the timeless music that transpired in that time and place, but seems to capture the very essence of what makes it great without attempting duplication. The songs are stripped down and starkly presented, with free spirit and the love of simple, yet beautiful music more identifiable as a link to their predecessors than any sonic element. Truly just about every song here is majestic in its simplicity, with aching vocal hooks and plaintive twelve-string making the best moments more powerful than any more complex or sonically faithful rendering of the era. This record is not only worthy of its influences but a heartening illustration that their spirit lives on.

9) Ben Kweller (ATO)

Kweller's third full-length taps the strenths of each of his first two records, combining the alternately uplifiting and heartrending pure pop of 2002's Sha Sha and the more developed and serious song structures of 2004's On My Way. Kweller's incredibly expressive voice ably exudes sorrow, longing, and jubilation, it seems all within one song on "Sundress," augmented with more than a hint of Spector-style production. "I Gotta Move" is simple of both melody and mind, but totally fun and infectious. "Thirteen," an emotional solo piano ballad, is a series of lyrical snapshots that could make anyone who's ever been in love a little misty. It's just the kind of track that makes you love the soaring melody and propulsive backing of "Penny On the Train Track," which follows, even more. "Until I Die" may have a little too much of the overt sentimentality that somewhat burdened even some of the best songs on Kweller's debut, but he effectively counteracts it with the hard rocking knock-out punch of "This Is War." Anyone who loves pop music should find plenty to embrace in this record.

10) Vetiver- To Find Me Gone (DiCristina)

Vetiver's Andy Cabic is lumped into the "weird folk" category with the likes of his sometime collaborator Devendra Banhart, though I'm hard pressed to see what's all that weird about his simple, acoustic-based songs and smoothly delivered vocals. True, the raga-like album opener "Been So Long" isn't exactly Top 40 material, but it features a conventionally pretty melody. Cabic sounds like Jerry Garica on a downer on the next couple tracks, then moves on to the delightful "Idle Ties," which sounds akin to a Melanie side or some other '60s psych-pop gem. "I Know No Pardon," another highlight, follows, with Cabic combining a longingly poetic lyric with a perfect country-rock backing track that conjures Gram Parsons or early Jackson Browne. The track is nearly seven minutes long, but I wouldn't mind if it went on all day. Variations on these fairly normal themes continue throughout the rest of the record, though you do get some swirling atmospherics on "Double." The closing "Down At El Rio" gets the Dead out once again to good effect. Rather than take simple music based on timeless influences and make it spooky or odd, Cabic strips it down to its essence, which isn't weird but is in its own way unique on today's music scene.

Lou's Top 20 of 2006, Part 2

Here's the second in a four-part series revealing my choices for the Top 20 records of 2006. Feel free to submit your own Top 5, 10, 20, or 25 to purgegeeks@gmail.com and I'll strongly consider posting them.

11) The Kamikaze Hearts- Oneida Road (Collar City)

This Albany, NY band came out of nowhere, for me at least, on their brilliant second full-length. As far as comparisons to other current bands, Okkervil River certainly comes to mind what with the Hearts' mutual affinity for mandolin, accordion, banjo and aching-escalating-to-wailing vocals like on "Half of Me." And a few tracks sound so much like Swearing At Motorists that you'd swear it was them. It's not, though they share a penchant for making indie rock deeply rooted in Americana, but are more likely to come up with a song that sounds complete and well-crafted. A lot of the rest sounds like early R.E.M. if someone made off with their amps and they got stranded on some rural Southern front porch. And the Van Morrison vibe on a couple of tracks isn't necessarily a bad thing even if, like me, you're not enamored of the original article. The whole of this album is charming, refreshing, and original even given the well-worn musical threads it proudly wears.

12) The Tyde- Three's Co. (Rough Trade)

The Tyde is the kind of band you can almost convince yourself you're not that into until you can't get their songs out of your head for about a week and a half--and it actually makes you want to listen to them again. The songs are very simple but absolutely infectious. Stylistically, the album largely adheres to the formula that worked so well on the band's last release, 2003's Twice, though you're more likely to hear a fuzz guitar or effected vocal here. In spirit, though, it veers even farther from the trippiness of their 2001 debut, Once, which sounded much more like close relative Beachwood Sparks (the Tyde includes three former members of that group). The clear Beach Boys and Byrds influences reflect the group's California roots, but the band is best at its most propulsive, such as on the hook-filled opener "Do It Again Again" and "The Pilot." But the sorrowful, Spector-ish "Separate Cars" is also a highlight on which vocalist Darren Rademaker is as expressive as he should be more often.

13) The Long Winters- Putting the Days To Bed (Barsuk)

This band has managed to avoid both the aura of a bit too much seriousness that pervades their former labelmates and sometime collaborators Death Cab for Cutie and that of excessive cuteness that pop darlings like Apples In Stereo suffer from. John Roderick turns out well-crafted pop numbers that don't lack for substance or levity, and the rhythm section of Eric Corson and Nabil Ayers propels them just so. Roderick's is an unconventional pop voice but has improved across the band's three albums so that it remains unique yet no longer sticks out like a sore thumb. Presentation-wise, the Winters continue to move away from the cluttered indie-collective vibe that pervaded their 2001 debut, which only benefits the songs. A harder-edged rendition of the hooky "Ultimatum," the title track of an EP issued earlier in the year, is a highlight, and "(It's a) Departure" is appropriately titled in that it lapses into a relentlessly rocking glam-pop chorus/outro.

14) The Moore Brothers- Murdered By the Moore Brothers (Plain Recordings)

Two brothers, one acoustic guitar, 14 virtually perfect pop songs. Actually, there are a few guitar overdubs here, some tinkling piano is interspersed, and (gasp) some brushed snare appears on two tracks, which makes Murdered By... a full-scale production compared to the Brothers' last album--2004's Now Is the Time For Love--which stuck strictly to the two passing the axe. Sometimes I think these guys would do well to dress their stuff up like some Curt Boettcher record or something, but they may be smart to stick to the sparse accompaniment. Why unnecessarily obscure the incredible harmonies and beautiful tunes they seem to effortlessly toss off? The most obvious benchmark to compare to would be Simon & Garfunkel, who the Brothers sound quite a bit like on a few tracks, but their uniqueness within their extremely limited template may be what's most remarkable about them.

15) Calexico- Garden Ruin (Quarterstick)

A lot of indie-rock bands feature extremely capable singer-songwriter frontmen with a debt to Townes Van Zandt and Neil Young, though Calexico's Joey Burns has proven himself more capable than most over the course of the band's five full-lengths and a plethora of stray material. But not a lot embrace mariachi instrumentation as a staple of their sound--and incredibly effectively--so this aspect of Calexico has garnered most of the attention the band has gotten over the years, at the expense of Burns' less unusual abilities. But songcraft claims the spotlight on Garden Ruin, with Burns taking advantage of the opportunity to construct songs without fitting them into the template of the expansive and eclectic outfit the band had become. A Calexico record without the South of the Border feel is a little odd at first, though they do throw in "Roka"--complete with guest Spanish vocal by Amparo Sanchez--about halfway through. Most of the record, though, won't sound that unusual to fans who have done more than scratch the surface of the band's previous work. The opening "Cruel" would be the poppiest and prettiest tune on any of the band's previous releases, though, with an effecting vocal melody and well-placed guitars. The horns do make an appearance, but are kept in the background. "Yours and Mine" is a tender, acoustic-based number on which Burns' vocal is the most expressive he's delivered, though it's not a huge departure, either. "Bisbee Blue," with it's Baroque-pop flourishes, is where things get a little surprising. And "Lucky Dime" is very reminiscent of Chicago, believe it or not. "Letter To Bowie Knife" is a pretty straight-up catchy rocker with uncharacteristic roaring electric guitar that is delivered flawlessly by the band. It's tough to say that Calexico is stretching their sound out when they're really becoming more conventional, but whatever you want to call it they do it as effectively as on their most ambitious tracks.

Lou's Top 20 of 2006, Part 1

This post begins a four-part series revealing my choices for the Top 20 records of 2006. Feel free to submit your own Top 5, 10, 20, or 25 to purgegeeks@gmail.com and I'll strongly consider posting them.

16) Wooden Wand & the Sky High Band- Second Attention (Kill Rock Stars)

The prolific underground darling known as Wooden Wand takes a necessary step on this record from "Wow, this is weird" to Wow, this is good." Most of the loosely played, acoustic-based country-folk presented here has a decided Basement Tapes aura, while "Hot Death" is a little closer to "It's Alright, Ma..." territory. But there's something to grab a hold of in each of the songs here other than how unusual they might be. In fact, there's really not much at all that's unusual about this record, which suggests that Wooden Wand may actually be a talent to take note of.

17) National Eye- Roomful of Lions (Park the Van)

The second long player by this Philadelphia outfit finds them a bit more tightly in the Eno-Bowie orbit than on their debut, 2003's The Meter Glows, which doesn't detract at all from the pleasantly unconventional indie-folk/pop they offer up. These aren't exactly songs you'll find yourself humming in the shower, but they're put together well and the array of sounds and unique instrumentation keeps them all interesting. Still, the pop chops of "Juno 3" and "The Switch" are undeniable and the specter of Neil Young that was more prevalent on the debut remains on "Casimir."

18) Albert Hammond, Jr.- Yours To Keep (Rough Trade-U.K.)

First things first: I dislike the Strokes. Not even a passing interest. Hammond is rhythm guitarist and occasional songwriter in the Strokes. There's not much here that puts me in mind of the Strokes. ELO on "In Transit," yes. Weezer on "Everyone Gets A Star," a bit. The Shins on "Bright Young Thing," sure. A John Lennon or Pete Ham solo demo on "Blue Skies," a lot. Guided By Voices on "101," uh-huh. Ray Davies on "Call An Ambulance," you bet. My personal taste for these audible influences ranges from idolatry to distaste, but the common thread is well-constructed and well-packaged pop. That's the essence of this record, and the sound doesn't fall victim to its progenitors, but calls on them and brings them together without sounding like a rehash. Hammond's father is the legendary songwriter who wrote "The Air That I Breathe" among others, and it must be in the genes.

19) Paul Brill- Harpooner (Scarlet Shame)

Paul Brill's evolution from very straight-up rootsy singer-songwriter to near-avant-gardist over the course of four albums has been pretty remarkable, but so incremental from release to release that you could be forgiven for barely noticing it. Still, you're sort of left looking for the song during a couple tracks from Harpooner, and "Paris is On," the second track, is the only one you could convincingly call a pop song. Yet I'm perfectly happy when this one winds up. Maybe if I took the time to try to pick up the significance of each lyric and appreciate the sometimes otherworldly soundscape Brill puts together (I'm sure meticulously), I'd dismiss it as pretentious crap. But if you listen as passively as you would to anything you don't expect to be tested on, you're more likely to notice a reassuring presence in Brill's strongly image-evoking lyrics despite their inherent despair, and backing tracks that could have been the result of a few mad geniuses thrown into a recording studio with an array of instruments. I'm not sure which way Paul would rather have it, but I give him credit for making a record as easily enjoyable in its complexity as any of his more simplistic work.

20) Willie Nelson- Songbird (Lost Highway)

I'm a huge fan of Willie's material from his '70s heyday, but admit I probably wouldn't have been much interested in this record were it not for the involvement of Ryan Adams, who produced and whose band--the Cardinals--backs Willie. It comes out sounding unlike other records by either of them, veering stylistically from the bulk of Nelson's material and showing Adams and band carefully playing to the legend's strengths even as they compel him to stretch out of his well-worn comfort zone. It's easy to imagine Nelson singing Christine McVie's title track (and it's almost incredible he hadn't covered it before now), but what's on the CD--a rootsy jangle that hearkens to Adams' days in Whiskeytown--is markedly different from what you'd expect but still allows Nelson's aptitude for the song to show. It's clear that Adams wrote "Blue Hotel" with Nelson in mind, but it must have been Willie a long way back, as the track comes out with Nelson sounding more authentic and soulful than on almost anything he's done since his Atlantic Records days before he became a household name. The vintage Nelson original "Sad Songs and Waltzes" is faithfully reprised from that era, which should be a comfort to stalwart fans unsure of the direction he's sent in on a few of the other tracks, along with "We Don't Run,"--resurrected from 1996's Spirit--which wouldn't seem out of place on any Nelson album or set list in the loose and sprightly reading it's given here. And while Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" may seem like a far out choice, Nelson and the band make it sound like it could be one of his own. The only disappointment here is the reading of Gram Parsons' classic "$1,000 Wedding," which sounds like a genius match between singer and song, but Nelson just doesn't quite seem to grasp the melody and the arrangement is a bit ambitious. All in all, though, this is a satisfying record that those who would like to reembrace Willie or get a contemporary view of the beauty and virtuosity that occurs throughout his immense body of work should give a chance.

John Phillips- John The Wolfking of L.A. (2006 reissue)

Without hearing this album, it would be easy to chalk up John Phillips as a guy who wrote a small handful of good pop songs, presented them in the most commerically viable manner possible with the Mamas and the Papas, ran that group and his subsequent ventures like a diabolical asshole, lined his pockets and retired to live like a rock star without actually creating much until it caught up with him in 2001.

Turns out he made maybe the best singer-songwriter album of that genre's turn of the '70s heyday that didn't have Neil Young's name on the cover. With its well placed pedal steels and honky tonk pianos, it clearly leans toward country-rock as well, but comes out sounding far more L.A. than Nashville. But more like a country writer than Dylan or Gene Clark, Phillips provides snapshots that convey the emotions of the lyrics through their starkness and clarity rather than evocative poetry.

There remain "cute" moments like those that provided many of the M & P's highlights, "Drum," a literal telling of a drum set being snatched outside a gig, Phillips' vocal trade offs with the female background singers on the sailor's tale "Captain (The Mermaid)," and his scat singing on "Down the Beach," though that obscures a sorrowful telling of his separation from Mama Michelle. But the opening quartet of "April Anne," "Topanga Canyon," "Malibu People," and "Someone's Sleeping" are all impeccably constructed and should have been the envy of "serious" writers the like of Leonard Cohen, a young Jackson Browne, or anyone else. "Holland Tunnel" fits well as a breezy closer, and namechecks Pittsburgh.

Phillips' voice was rarely heard amongst the three featured vocalists in the Mamas & Papas, but is sensitive and engaging in much the manner of George Harrison in his early solo years, with the occasional seemingly intentional Dylanesque sneer thrown own. He sings out on a few choice occasions, though, to surprisingly strong results.

This would be Phillips' only solo album released during his lifetime, and it has received little recongnition, which hopefully this new reissue will help to remedy. Seven outtakes are included, which are interesting though there is nothing than measures up to the album tracks. A weaker alternate mix of "Mississippi" that hit number 32 on the pop charts in 1970 is also tacked on.

Azkena Rock Festival, Vitoria, Spain, August 31-September 2, 2006

(Note: For larger versions of the pictures, go here.)

"I'm not going to Spain to see some washed up grunge bands," were I think Karen's exact words when I first pitched the idea of attending the Azkena Rock Festival in Vitoria, Basque Country.

True, Pearl Jam was the headliner of the three-day affair and would draw by far the largest crowd, but the down-ticket talent would be worth the trans-Atlantic flight, I thought. The Young Fresh Fellows or Big Star setting foot on a stage on this continent, much less the same stage, is a rare occurance. Throw in some other cool acts and the chance to hang out in what have to be a couple of the world's coolest cities--Bilbao and San Sebastian--and this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Or at least enough to convince her I wasn't totally nuts.

Not nuts, but a little atypical maybe. The rather large outdoor venue seemed virtually empty as what--for me--would be the main event approached. Preceded only by two local bands, the Young Fresh Fellows took the stage before the sun had set on the first day of the festival. The YFFs have been truly one of my all time favorite bands for a long time, although not quite long enough to have seen them on their last full-scale American tour, which coincided roughly with my 15th birthday. The shitty grin on my face as they prepared to take the stage pretty much says it all. Probably the only people in the place having more fun than me were Scott, Kurt, Jim, and Tad.

The best word I can think of to describe this band and their music is magnetic. Who could not love these guys or the exuberance they bring on stage? And who could doubt that a band who goes on stage sporting straw fedoras and pipes is going to be a lot of fun. These are, as the album title says, "The Men Who Loved Music."Frontman Scott McCaughey announced that they would begin their set with "the first song on our first album," and after 22 years "Rock 'n' Roll Pest Control" is still quintessential Fellows. Not serious by any means, but who meant rock and roll to be serious? "Middle Man of Time," a song about McCaughey's childhood memories of the Beatles arriving in America, is telling of where the Fellows are coming from and was a pleasant surprise choice to follow "Pest Control."

By the time the group kicked into their rendition of the Kinks' "Picture Book," like "Middle Man" from the astonishing 1989 "This One's For the Ladies" album, a sizable crowd had gathered and--whether they were able to sing along or not--were clearly having a great time. The language barrier didn't stop the Spanish Fellows fans from beginning to chant the refrain of "Young Fresh Fellows Theme" in between songs, a request that would be granted later in the set, but not before tearing through a few of their more pop-punk inspired numbers, the classic "How Much About Last Night Do You Remember?" from their second album, "Topsy Turvy," Kurt Bloch's "Still There's Hope" from "Ladies," and the any-band biography "Two Guitars, Bass and Drums."

McCaughey is the heart and soul of the Fellows, but Bloch's searing solos and onstage exertions allow him to at times become the focal point of the band. His power is undeniable, and his (unfortunately now disbanded) Fastbacks are the only band that has ever wowed me more than the Fellows.

Drummer Tad Hutchinson also certainly has the ability to get your attention during the set, what with the swaying cymbal/wok combo he dodges from beginning to end.

But the focus comes back to McCaughey, and really there's no choice when he's doing his best Janis Joplin impersonation on the heat-lamenting "Equator Blues" under what was a rather warm early evening sun. Kurt indulged Scott's lyrical exhortations to "pour
some water down on me."



All eyes and ears remain on McCaughey, though, when he delivers the heartfelt "Backroom of the Bar," an odd favorite among a crowd clearly predisposed to rock hard. But rock they did on the closing cover of the Sonics' "Strychnine."

You could have put me back on the plane at this point and I would have been thrilled, but there was a lot of music left.

I've never quite gotten Green On Red, though I'm likely to drool over most things in the Neil Young ripoff/Americana genre. The reunited lineup that recorded the cult favorite "Gas, Food, Lodging" and "No Free Lunch" records are certainly capable musically and benefit from losing the '80s sound quality of those recordings, but the lyrics and Dan Stuart's vocals continued to come across as forced to me.

The first night headliner was Iggy & the Stooges. Fresh off watching the Fellows--who hover around 50 years of age--rock out, I was interested to see what the nearly 60-year-old Iggy and his 1969-70 bandmates could do, though the addition of Minutemen legend Mike Watt (a young buck at 48) on bass brings down the mean age a bit. The interesting dichotomy is that guitarist Ron Asheton, drummer Scott Asheton, and sax player Dave McKay look like your average 60-year-old guys. Ron (who Iggy introduced as the "heavyweight champ"), somewhat resembles Michael Moore.

Then there's Iggy, his chiseled body exhibiting every ounce of raunchiness and reckless abandon that it must have in the ballrooms of late-60s Michigan. This guy is a force of nature. As anyone who has ever seen Watt before knows, he can be, too. When the two collide it's a hell of a storm. And the fat, old guys rise to the occasion. This set rocked in a primal fashion that perhaps no other existing band could duplicate. The sight of Iggy (to the chagrin of security) inviting the crowd on stage for "No Fun" was symbolic of the entire experience. (Iggy is singing and the band is playing--well--as this takes place.) And imagine a couple thousands Basques (or "Boscos" as Iggy preferred) chanting along to "I Wanna Be Your Dog" not once, but twice.
They love Iggy so much in Vitoria that they have a statue of him in the town square.


The current incarnation of The Misfits were sort of a mop-up act for Iggy, and it was easy to see why. While I knew going in that I would see nothing resembling the Glenn Danzig-era punk trailbalzers, I thought it could at least be fun. Original bassist Jerry Only is now the principal member and vocalist, and is joined by fellow classic punk notables Dez Cadena of Black Flag and drummer Robo, who played with both the Flag and the 'Fits in their respective heydays.

After an agonizingly long lead-in featuring way too much spooky music, smoke, and lighting, the band finally came on and were awful. One, they look totally ridiculous. All are totally covered in makeup and ridiculous looking punk/horror garb. These are 50-year-old guys, and it's a sure sign that the music can't stand on it's own. Jerry can't sing and the sound resembled '80s pop-metal more than '77-vintage punk. They hadn't gotten to any of the classics before we decided to call it a night, but we should probably be glad for that. My guess is that the Muzak versions of some Misfits favorites that were played over the PA between sets were probably superior.

We got to the festival on Friday afternoon in time to catch The Bottle Rockets, who I knew to be a pleasant if unremarkable Americana act. They've been heralded as "the Best Bar Band in America," and I don't think that's an outlandish statement after seeing their set, though I'm not optimistic about how it would transfer in the studio.

I was excited about Gang of Four, whose reunited original lineup was up next. I try not to get too excited about seeing artists who are decades removed from their best work, and hadn't heard Gof4's recent comeback album to give me any idea whether they still had it or not. They couldn't have played more than a couple of songs that didn't come from their classic first two lp's, though, and these they played with the same energy and angst that is pervasive on those great records. This was an incredibly impressive set that made music created thirty years ago seem vital and fresh. When Jon King created a percussion track by beating a microwave with an aluminum baseball bat, it could have been obnoxious, but was actually entertaining and charming. Must have been the stone face he kept through the entire ordeal.

No melodica, though.






I was at the other end of the venue gearing up for Big Star while Eagles of Death Metal played, but they sounded pretty good. Much more garage rock than death metal. And I do like their name.

So Big Star was next. One of the greatest bands of all time, obviously, during their initial, brief early '70s existance. Knowing that Alex Chilton has been erratic at best since the original Big Star's demise and far from enamored of the recent album by the reconstituted group, I tried to check any overly lofty expectations at the door. But the great songs are still there, and Jon Auer and Ken Stringfellow of the Posies are great singers and musicians who are absolutely qualified to help Chilton carry on the legacy of his storied band.

But from the first notes of "In the Street" to ring out from Chilton's guitar, any expectation I could have had was exceeded. Chilton's vocals and memorable guitar lines could have been pulled straight off of those fantastic recordings from more than three decades ago, but the smile on the his face as he performed his classics was even more priceless. Perhaps barely surviving the Hurricane Katrina disaster has given him a new perspective on life and his musical past. Seeing him sing the tender "The Ballad of El Goodo" and "Thirteen" nearly brought tears to my eyes. Auer's rendition of the late Chris Bell's "I Am the Cosmos" has a similar quality, and Stringfellow capably delivers the intensity of Chilton's original vocal on "Daisy Glaze." It is clear that The Posies revere these songs and the chance to perform with one of their heroes, and the love and care they treat them with overrides any lack of authenticity that you could imagine stemming from them "covering" the band's originals.


The set did grind a bit when a couple of songs from the new album were played in quick succession, but "September Gurls" easily cured that. By the end, everyone concerned was so pleased that "Mine Exclusively," which comes across as a pointless rave-up on the new album, was completely satisfying, a fun, danceable conclusion to a set that--like the band's classic work--was somewhat of an emotional rollercoaster.

The power-pop bliss continued with Redd Kross, apparently playing their first shows in nearly a decade with the lineup of their recently reissued cult-classic "Neurotica" lp. The live set added the extra kick I always sort of wished their records had, and the songs were of course catchy as all get out. I still have "Bubblegum Factory" and "Annie's Gone" running through my head. And Jeff McDonald sure can sing, though he may have outgrown those plaid pants.

We didn't get any pics of Redd Kross, but there are some posted prominently on their site.

The two big draws this evening were Buckcherry (who I know nothing about, but they sure don't sound like something I would like) and the reunited New York Dolls. The dolls were the band that seemed to be creating the biggest buzz all weekend, but to be honest I've never been real into even the records they made before half of the original lineup passed on. So we took an early leave after a truly remarkable day of music.

It was hard to get real excited about Saturday, the final day of the festival, though I could coast after the great first two days.

The first band we saw on Saturday were the Nomads, who are made out to be sort of a Swedish Cynics, but sounded more like one of those Seattle bands who got to make one record on Lucky or c/z right after grunge broke then were never heard from again. They weren't terrible, but...

Then there was Wolfmother. It would be hard for any band to live up to the hype surrounding them, but I liked them. They certainly rocked, which I think is about all they set out to do. I stand by my characterization of them after hearing one song as a less arty Rush.

I think Karen was disappointed by Wolfmother, though she was into My Morning Jacket, who I hated. There were a couple songs that were decent, but it was more the aura of seriousness and importance they clearly attach to their music that was incongruous with the rest of the festival and annoyed me so. Everything from the frontman's hair completely obscuring his face about 4 seconds into the first song, to the hulking drummer's chest-beating after banging his way through a noisy 10-minute "jam," to having a pedal steel on stage that was played (poorly) on only one song drove me nuts. But perhaps I'm being petty.

The crowd seemed suddenly to have at least doubled when it was time for Pearl Jam. They're a band I've never cared about and have occasionally expressed distaste for, though I guess I've developed a respect for them for hanging around all these years and seeming like decent guys. This was, incredibly, the second time I had seem them within a year, the first being their opening gig for the Rolling Stones at PNC Park. And to their credit, they put a lot of effort into their shows when they could probably just mail it in and get the same response from most of the lunkheads in the audience. This was a fun and enjoyable set, Eddie Vedder was in good spirits (and totally drunk), and the crowd was happy. But as they eased into the third encore or so we figured we had best get a cab to the airport for our early morning flight before the other 20,000 or so people beat us to it.
So Spain was a great experience, we made it back unscathed but jet-lagged, and we definitely took in some great rock. Thanks to Karen for listening to my crazy idea, accompanying me, speaking Spanish for me all week, and taking the awesome pictures.

Gene Clark- No Other (2003 reissue)

This album is often cited by cognoscenti as some sort of lost classic, a strange anomaly where quaint singer-songwriter Clark stumbles into a world populated by synthesizers, background singers, far-out druggies, and androgynous freaks like Gene himself on the back cover. But probably these people, intoxicated by the unusal and unnecessary accoutrements on this record, have overlooked the solid core of beauty that exists in nearly all of Gene's songs from his classic era no matter how starkly presented. The extras really only detract from Clark's nearly unparalleled abilities as a songwriter and singer, and make No Other appear to the Gene devotee as another missed opportunity to make the solo masterpiece he deserved to.

Which is why this import reissue of the '74 album is such a revelation. All but two songs from the original album are presented as bonus tracks stripped of the accessories, and all are better for it. "Some Misunderstanding" and "Lady of the North" are tranformed from tracks you could just as soon forget about to among the most affecting in Clark's canon when the fat is cut away and their depth and sensitivity revealed. "From A Silver Phial" is probably the best song ever written by a Byrd in or out of the group no matter in what form it's presented, but again the stripped-down take better showcases the remarkable melody and lyrical cadences.

By programming your stereo, you can transport yourself from the scary underworld elitists mine for their next buzz to a place whose rare air Gene occupied his entire career. The pleasantly countryish "The True One" is the album track that somehow escaped being dressed up, and fits in better with the bonus material that the rest of the original lp. And you can forget about "Strength of Strings," an ill-advised inclusion on the original that seemingly exists only to showcase the overblown production, and replace it with an unreleased version of Gene's staple "Train Leaves Here This Morning" given a new twist by the capable No Other band--who are far more evident on the extra tracks minus the fluff.

This dressed-down No Other may not do much for those seeking an oddity, but for Gene Clark's fans it's comforting to discover that the album we've always wished he made indeed exists.

Minutemen- Double Nickels On the Dime (1984)

This is my favorite album to play when it's hot out.

Mickey Newbury- ‘Frisco Mabel Joy (1971)

This is perhaps the most enigmatic album I’ve ever come across. I had heard about if for years, mostly in the same breath as Red Headed Stranger, Honky Tonk Heroes and the other classics of Outlaw Country. So when I finally got a copy and popped it in the stereo, I though maybe the drug-addled goon at the used store had slipped me the wrong disc. This album lies far off the beaten path that connects Nashville and Luckenbach.

First, the dominant sonic element (other than Newbury’s remarkable voice, which I’ll get to later) is what sounds like a blaring synthesizer, or perhaps it’s an air raid siren rigged to vaguely mimic a string section. If this wasn’t so unusual it would probably be unbearable. It seems to mask a horn section and maybe even some real strings in places. It’s weird and it’s stark and it’s haunting. But then so are the songs.

You may be familiar with the leadoff track, “An American Trilogy,” as a staple of Elvis’ latter day Vegas stage show. It’s the one where the King bellows lines from “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” and sprays sweat into the cheap seats. How Basically an embarrassing spectacle. In Newbury’s hands, it’s something completely different.

There’s not a lot of ambiguity to “The Battle Hymn,” nor “Dixie,” one of the other two traditional numbers Newbury melds together. But you get the feeling that Newbury is singing about something completely different than what’s in the lyrics. Something that’s gone, probably forever. Longing and despair are thick in his voice.

But this isn’t Johnny Cash’s longing and despair. Newbury sounds more like Steve Marriott than anyone you’d see on the Opry stage, veering from sinewy whisper to wailing cry. It’s nothing short of incredible.

There are certainly traditional country elements evident in Newbury’s songwriting throughout. “The Future’s Not What It Used To Be” could have gotten some play in a honky tonk in a more mainstream incarnation, and “Mobile Blue” is a gritty country rocker where Newbury sings like a more authentic John Fogerty.

But the songs where he writhes in pain are the clear strength of this album. “You’re Not the Same Sweet Baby” and “Swiss Cottage Place” are so good they’re almost tough to listen to.

“How I Love Them Old Songs,” a sprightly number that is the last song listed on the sleeve, makes you think that Newbury gave you the bad news first. But the rain isn’t over yet. Literally. The sounds of a thunder storm lead into a reprise of “San Francisco Mabel Joy,” a song from Newbury’s previous album, “Looks Like Rain,” which apparently inspired this album’s seemingly loose concept. Newbury picks you up with “Old Songs” only to make the unexpected fall even harder.

There are songs that can bring a tear to your eye, but this could be the only one I’ve ever heard where the despair is so palpable that you will be left simply staring, mouth agape, into the darkness Newbury has created. And that’s really how the story ends.

This is a remarkable album, but not an easy one. And as I’m sure Newbury would attest, it never gets any easier.

Gram Parsons- The Complete Reprise Sessions (2006)

If you’re reading this, you’ve probably heard these records (Gram’s two solo albums, GP and Grievous Angel), a million times. You’re probably used to the old Reprise two-on-one CD. And there’s really no reason for them not to be packaged that way except to take your money. But whatever. Gram Parsons is a legend and a god, and these remastered discs do add clarity to the timeless voices of Gram and Emmylou and the playing of their crackerjack band. The gatefold cover of the GP disc is cool, too, but you probably have the lp already anyway.

Like I said, you probably already know all about these albums, and everything that can be said about them has already been said. A lot of it was probably a little generous in its praise, as these records (I’m sorry) are not the be all and end all of American roots music. They don’t hold a candle to Gram’s best work on The Byrds’ Sweetheart of the Rodeo or The Flying Burrito Brothers’ The Gilded Palace of Sin, and they have some weak moments.

GP’s leadoff track “Still Feeling Blue” is pure country-rock gold, and “A Song for You” is beautiful, but “She” and “The New Soft Shoe” border on just plain boring; Emmylou’s soaring vocal barely saves country standard “That’s All It Took” from the same fate; and the cover of the J. Geils Band’s (?) “Cry One More Time” and Gram’s own “Big Mouth Blues” fall somewhere between middling and uncomfortable.

Grievous Angel is stronger from beginning to end, even remarkable in places. The leadoff “Return of the Grievous Angel” is one of best songs ever written/sung/played and “$1,000 Wedding” is perhaps Parsons’ most fully realized composition. The Parsons/Harris duet on “Love Hurts” deserves the acclaim it receives. But while Tom T. Hall’s “I Can’t Dance” may have been a barnburner live it doesn’t really fit here, though more than the original “Ooh Las Vegas.”

None of this is to say that either of these albums is anything less than essential, or that I wouldn’t shell out top dollar for anything Gram’s voice appears on.

The third disc of alternate takes is like most discs of alternate takes. It’s clear a lot of the time why these takes were not committed to vinyl, as Gram, Emmy, and the band feel their way through the songs. More than most artists, though, Gram occasionally provides a reward in this format. His voice is such that even a different inflection or emphasis on a word or syllable can add something new to even the most familiar song. Most of all on these takes, though, an accomplished backing band featuring legendary guitarist James Burton stands out on the looser early takes.

The third disc also has two essential outtakes from Grievous Angel, covers of Felice and Boudleaux Bryant’s “Sleepless Nights” and The Louvin Brothers’ “The Angels Rejoiced Last Night.” Of course, you may have already had these on a previous high priced Rhino compilation (Grrrr).

But, hey, it’s Gram. It’s worth it.

The Move- Shazam (1970)

This album splits the difference between Pet Sounds and Black Sabbath to near perfection. Can’t imagine what that would sound like? Well, familiarity with The Move’s earlier cornucopia of classic psych-pop singles won’t make it any easier. This record was a major departure for the band, right from usually soulful pop crooner Carl Wayne’s rasping howl on the opening punk precursor “Hello, Suzie.” Fans of the time (likely British, as none of the group’s singles made the charts here) may have recovered from their shock with the second track—the beautiful, acoustic-based “Beautiful Daughter”—but were thrown for another loop by “Cherry Blossom Clinic Revisited,” a reprise of the closing track of the band’s classic debut lp. Formerly a 2½ minute pop nugget, the song is transformed into an nearly 8 minute epic whose complex twists and turns reflect its topic—mental illness.

While mastermind Roy Wood’s gift for pop songcraft is less evident on the longer, structured tracks that make up the rest of the album than on the band’s earlier work, his gifted vision is still clear. His acoustic and electric guitars and occasional keyboard flourish blend perfectly—as do the delightful shrieks of his well-placed vocal parts with Wayne’s far more conventional style. The shifting tempos and varying structures that occur within each track take place effortlessly and ensure that the listener doesn’t drift away when the band stretches it out.

Which is a good thing, as the songs only get longer.

“Fields of People,” which surpasses 10 minutes, is a flower power anthem a couple years past due, complete with its Eastern-tinged coda. The closing track, a version of the Tom Paxton standard “The Last Thing On My Mind,” could have been created in a West Coast ballroom rather than a British recording studio. Perhaps it was, as the The Move was unafraid to wear its American influences on its sleeve, but the band turns in a convincing rendition of a tune nearly everyone has covered.

Throughout the album, newly arrived bassist Rick Price and drummer Bev Bevan provide an awe-inspiring rhythm section and lay the foundation for the proto-metal direction the band would embrace (with mixed results) on its next album, “Looking On,” released later in the year. And Wayne’s man-in-the-street interviews with passers by on the state of British pop—interspersed between and even into the songs—are amusing as well.

It’s hard to say that this album is better than the group’s first collection of gems, but this is truly a horse of a different color and—rather than simply collecting songs—brings diverse styles and influences together in the context of one very talented band. This set is unfortunately overlooked in the pantheon of British rock classics, as is The Move itself as both a force in ‘60s pop and a stylistic influence as the ‘70s dawned. Shazam came at a crossroads for The Move and for rock, and consequently there are not many other albums quite like it.