The Tallest Man on Earth – Shallow Grave

It is often a nuisance whenever a critic calls a new and young artist a “beatnik”, but I suppose that it would be a somewhat suitable classification for Kristian Matsson, aka The Tallest Man on Earth. Despite a fresh and wavering scene that mainly dismisses gritty folk as a component of the past, Matsson has chosen to disregard the skeptics and carry on with a style that suits him the best, similar to the individualistic ideals of his namesake. If you had read any article concerning Matsson prior to this one, you are probably aware of one comparison that is consistently evident. Dylan-like, Dylan-esque… yeah, you get the drift – Matsson sounds a bit like the folk legend. It seems that the tag has been granted to seemingly every folk songwriter with an acoustic guitar these days, but Matsson actually makes a case for a legit comparison. Playing a varied style of acoustical folk is one thing, but Matsson’s excelled lyrical prowess is where he shines most uniquely. Providing a cohesion of metaphorical imagery and anecdotal musings, Matsson’s emphasis on nature serves as a refreshing change of pace when compared to other, somewhat melodramatic songwriters. Though the transcendentalism of Thoreau and Emerson provided us with a similarly successful literary device for two centuries, the delivery is exceptionally suited for Matsson’s music. Appropriately enough, the talented Swede sounds nothing like the indie-pop the country has been stereotypically churning out enjoyably in massive numbers. In fact, I would have taken him for an American if I had not known prior of his geographical origins. His style of folk takes plenty of dues from rootsy Americana, with his soulful croon embodying the genuine ardency that western folk music has come to be known for.
Folk remains Matsson’s primary stylistic preference, but he also weaves in elements of finger-picked blues (Piedmont blues) to provide a reminder of artists like Mississippi John Hurt and Curley Weaver. To make the sense of nostalgia even more suitable, Mattson utilizes a form of production that relies on both his raspy vocals and instrumental minimalism. The lo-fi approach is overwhelmingly appealing when applied to Matsson, and it mainly has to due with the fact that his lyrics are constantly invigorating. Considering they play such a large role and are impossible to avoid due to the minimalist style of production, his poetic talent provides a breath of a relief. Also, the fact that his debut, Shallow Grave, sounds like it was recorded on a random tape machine is part of its lo-fi charm; it is the same method that made the preceding EP so uniquely enjoyable. I admit that, like Dylan or any artist in a similar vein, not everyone will find themselves growing easily accustomed to Matsson’s vocal style. It has a sense of intimacy to it that usually only songwriters that are old in age and bountiful in experience encompass, being unconventional in the most broadest sense. I personally was enamored with it the first time I heard the opening track on Shallow Grave, the fantastic “I Won’t Be Found”. Rather than simply repeating “carpe diem”, Matsson signifies the importance of treasuring every moment in life, looking upon death as an imminent circumstance that can only be enjoyed if its preceding life was lived to the fullest extent. Over a fastidiously plucked guitar progression, he sings ardently and establishes time as a component that should be treasured. “Well if I ever get to slumber just like I’m old deep in the ground, hell, I won’t be found.” “Into the Stream” features a more simplistically repetitive progression that is excelled by Matsson’s vocal melody and the slight melodic transitioning that takes place after each verse. This time around, Matsson tackles the obstacles in turning a fantasy into reality. Using natural elements like alternating weather with metaphorical significance, the values of societal perception are also put into question, eventually settling on circumstances that are widely dependent on the individual. As far as recent folk artists go, I have heard very few that compare to Kristian Matsson’s raw skill as a lyricist and songwriter.

The Tallest Man on Earth – I Won’t Be Found

The Tallest Man on Earth – Into the Stream

Lou Barlow ~ Goodnight Unknown

Lou Barlow é um homem curioso. Membro fundador dos retornados Dinosaur Jr., dos Sebadoh e da Folk Implosion, o músico sempre arranjou forma de se incompatibilizar com os outros e investir o seu capital criativo em projectos paralelos. Ficaram na memória colectiva os míticos conflitos de personalidade entre o guedelhudo grisalho J Mascis e o eterno adolescente Barlow. À boleia dessa permanente discórdia, Lou seria expulso dos Dinosaur Jr. mas a eles voltaria mais tarde. E os jurássicos aí estão, amigos como dantes (ou nem tanto), e com álbum novo, "Farm", editado já neste 2009.Apesar da vasta discografia que assina, o músico conta apenas dois discos em nome próprio, "Emoh" de 2005 e este "Goodnight Unknown". Nestas curtas canções (a maioria não chega aos três minutos), sente-se a brisa seca do lo-fi, um som cultor da baixa qualidade de gravação e de instrumentação barata, que Barlow ajudou a popularizar na viragem para os anos 90. Para essa secura contribui ainda a bateria de Dale Crover, dos Melvins, em quase metade do disco. Já Lisa Germano é convidada a cantar na belíssima 'Too Much Freedom' - ela que também regressa este ano com "Magic Neighbor".Este segundo disco é, em comparação, mais sujo e mais cru do que o álbum de estreia, que era essencialmente acústico. Onde "Emoh" punha água na fervura, tornando as canções mais delicadas e pop, "Goodnight Unknown" insiste em soar roufenho e, a tempos (só a tempos), mostra alguma filiação com uma pop desnatada e sobretudo desmaiada. Passe-se imediatamente a 'The Right' ou a 'One Machine, One Long Fight' para o tira-teimas. A bateria (não é coincidência que Crover esteja em ambas) marca o ritmo, a galope, enquanto a guitarra e voz seguem a trotar no espaço que lhes sobra.Consta que Barlow e restantes músicos gravaram estas canções muito depressa e nota-se essa urgência num disco que não chega aos 40 minutos. Pode sempre argumentar-se que é essa a política de trabalho de Lou e que o ganho das guitarras, a distorção e as colunas de feedback pertencem mais à constelação Dinosaur Jr. - e todos estes argumentos farão sentido. Mas parece incontornável que, em ano de regresso da banda que lhe deu nome (e da qual fará as primeiras partes na América), o regresso a solo de Lou Barlow terá o efeito tristonho de uma folha caída de Outono: ajuda a cobrir de tons escuros a calçada mas é varrida à primeira chuva.

em: http://cotonete.clix.pt/#

The Duckworth Lewis Method

The Duckworth Lewis Method, prior to being a budding offshoot of Neil Hannon's The Divine Comedy, has been known as a mutually accepted way of endeavouring to settle a cricket match that has fallen foul of the weather.
Already the parallels are irresistible. Since the UK, and the world in general, has fallen foul of the weather in all sorts of ways this year, what better way of settling the score and providing some sunshine than a concept album about cricket?
Before you sigh deeply at the thought of an album played out over five days, with intervals for lunch, tea and cucumber sandwiches, fear not - for the game of cricket, as Hannon recognises, has moved on to a new era, where "now we're driving Bentleys, playing 20-20".
Hannon's partner in crime is fellow Irishman and Pugwash member Thomas Walsh, and together they walk into bat, humming a set of catchy tunes punctuated with very English observations. For this isn't just an album about the thwack of willow on leather - it recognises a form of Englishness in danger of falling by the wayside.
It's also strongly biographical. Jiggery Pokery sets the scene for the Old Trafford Ashes test of 1993, when Shane Warne announced his arrival to the sporting world with the 'ball of the century', bowling Mike Gatting with a ball that defied gravity. In this setting it's as if Gatting met up with Gilbert & Sullivan on his way back to the pavilion, the hilarious lyrics applied to a Nellie-The-Elephant-style backing. The batsman, presumed to be thinking of his lunch, is out for a "buggering duck", proclaiming "I hate Shane Warne!" as he stalks off.
For this he receives a starry backing of slip fielders, with Alexander Armstrong and Phill Jupitus among those drafted in to twang their braces and shout "baboon" at regular intervals, the knees-up gathering momentum.
Just as good is lead single The Age Of Revolution, a mixture of traditional jazz and old-style reggae set over a sample of brass from a bygone era, the cheeky riff backing proclamations of cricket unity "from Bangalore to Kingston". It's cricket as Lord Kitchener might have remembered it, when the Commonwealth was more widely accepted.
Elsewhere, Messrs Hannon and Walsh delight in how they're "meeting Mr Miandad" on a trip to Pakistan, while "Mason's gone to Zanzibar, underneath his Panama" (Mason On The Boundary). They exploit the limitless potential for double meaning in the lyrics, hitting The Sweet Spot in the middle of the bat, "sweet as apple pie". Meanwhile The Nightwatchman arrives at the crease in times of adversity, his acts of self sacrifice framed by distinctly Elgarian strings. There's even time to dodge the showers with an oboe-led instrumental, Rain Stops Play.
With not a dot ball or an overthrow, The Duckworth Lewis Method is an unqualified success. The first Ashes test between England and Australia starts two days after the physical release of this album - and if you've any sense, you'll be playing this record over lunch, tea, and dinner on all five days.

God Help The Girl

Não é exactamente um álbum convencional, mas antes o que se anuncia como primeira mostra de canções, personagens e trama de um filme a rodar, diz-se, em 2010. Não é um disco dos Belle & Sebastian, mas conta com canções do timoneiro da banda escocesa, assim como a colaboração de elementos do grupo a até mesmo duas versões de Funny Little Frog e Act Of The Apostle, temas do álbum The Life Pursuit. God Help The Girl é, sim, uma construção narrativa criada por Stuart Murdoch, seguindo contudo uma linha pop pastoral, com tempero de nostalgia (anos 60) quanto baste e arranjos elegantes, seguindo claramente a linha que tem caracterizado a evolução do som dos Belle & Sebastian. O disco é apresentado como a primeira parte de um díptico com as sessões de uma história que se conta por canções, tomando uma personagem feminina (Eve) como protagonista. Apesar de ter primeiros pontos de inspiração em musicais de palco, a música segue os preceitos pop que têm definido o percurso de Stuart Murdoch desde a sua estreia no projecto universitário que acabou sob a forma do álbum Tigermilk, em 1996. Para esta nova aventura ouviu e escolheu novas vozes, desde as até aqui ilustre desconhecida Catherine Ireton às já rodadas presenças de Asya (Smoosh) e Neil Hannon (Divine Comedy). Centrou as canções na voz e personalidade das personagens da ficção que construiu. Todavia, escutado de fio a pavio, o disco do projecto God Help The Girl revela (além da estrutura narrativa) uma colecção de canções delicadas, bem arrumadas, pelas quais se expressa a força de uma personalidade criativa impossível de dissociar do seu restante trabalho nos Belle & Sebastian. Sombria, sedutora, murmurante e desencantada, uma pop requintada que, sem trazer qualquer grande surpresa, garante plena satisfação aos admiradores do trabalho de Stuart Murdoch.

in: http://sound--vision.blogspot.com/2009/07/discos-da-semana-29-de-junho.html

Big Fresh ~ Here´s a family new concept band

Are eccentric artistic tendencies hereditary? Like eye color or facial characteristics, I would not be surprised if they were, mainly because I have witnessed friends that walk and talk eerily similar to one of their parents. Whether or not musical talent is hereditarily passed down is too theoretical to be argued for or against, so I tend to think that one’s upbringing has more to do with it than anything. If one is constantly surrounded by music and their idol, presumably a parent, is a musician, what else do they have to look up to and aspire to be? Like all children of parents in a professional occupation, there are advantages to be had here. Most kids that want to learn music are hammered with traditional songbooks and stiff learning routines. Some, though, are raised on it. Traditionalists may argue that theoretical mastery is the key to musical ability, but actual experience seems to be the prevailing factor in most cases. In regard to the passing down of “musical genes”, there are examples to cover each end of the spectrum. Jeff Buckley, Rufus Wainwright, and Femi Kuti all stand as exceptionally talented musicians, but their history leads fans to different circumstances despite a few shared characteristics. They all have a musically renowned father and later found future success of their own, but their differing relationships may elude to whether musical ability can be hereditary.
The sons and daughters of famous musicians could have their own capacity to resourcefully create their own music, but it is just as likely that their talents can be attributed to their parents in some way. Jeff Buckley is an example of a reputable musician with a famous father, but his talents and style are undoubtedly his own. He only met his father, Tim, once before his death when Jeff was 11. While his father’s career may have inspired him to pursue music full-time, Jeff Buckley was given no special treatment. His lack of guidance suggests that, perhaps, music simply runs in his blood. Then you have a case like Femi Kuti, whose father Fela Kuti is legendary for his prolific discography and upbringing of afro-pop. Femi initially lived with his mother, but went to live with his father when he was 15. A few years later, Fela gave his son a spot among his all-star performers on stage and the experience needed to pursue his own career. Nowadays, Femi boasts a consistent discography that separates him from his father’s work, while not entirely dismissing the vital experience he was given due to his father’s esteemed status. The differences between Buckley and Kuti show that musical talent is found too often on a case-by-case basis to assume whether it is hereditary or not, but it also shows that musicians tend to impact the lives of the people they influence, whether they are related to them or not.

Although there are many musicians that do not pursue parenthood, the ones that do often vary dramatically in the relationship with their children. Some go off on tour and never return due to indifference, but others are genuinely interested in the happenings of their children… and maybe even their children’s friends. Such is the case with R. Stevie Moore, the prolific producer and songwriter whose accomplishments in both fields are admired by most in the music industry. His genre-bending and technological innovations in music seem nearly endless, and his contributions do not stop there. He gave a former bandmate’s son, who is also interested in music, the proper knowledge as he was growing up, exposing him to his material and quirky innovation in the process. As a result, it is not surprising that the kid’s band, Big Fresh, seems nearly like a replica of the elder Moore’s unique craftsmanship. The group consists of the collaborator’s son and his longtime friends, all thankful for the privilege to work with the legend. This video from 1999 shows just how great Moore seems with these kids, playing a rendition of Moore’s “Why Should I Love You?” from his classic 1976 debut, Phonography. The band is understandably rough there, but they certainly show some potential for their age. And now ten years later, it looks like Big Fresh’s potential has finally caught up to them.
After a debut that showed plenty of promise but not enough execution, Big Fresh returns with a second album that explains why they are so renowned in their native Lexington, Kentucky. Big Fresh Forever is an album that expands upon the group’s electro-pop repertoire, now complementing lush synths and bouncy bass lines with overlapping vocal melodies, eccentric structural transitions, and stylistic intricacies that show an increasing amount of ambition among the band members. Mixed by Robert Schneider (The Apples in Stereo), Big Fresh Forever takes the lo-fi brilliancy of Moore and combines it with the psychedelic musings of Elephant 6 standards like Schneider. “W.L.U.V.” shows off the group’s nostalgic leanings, complete with the crackling of vinyl as they sing about an Illinois radio station over the twinkling of keys and the “la-la-la”-ing backing vocals. It is electronic pop, but its minimalism results in one of the more restrained tracks on the album. That is not to say it is lacking in any way though, as it is nice way to begin a dense album with a track that is purely accessible. Songs like “W.T.O.” and “Entertainment” recall electro-pop surveyors like Chin Chin and Hilotrons with their thick synthesizers and swift implementation of acoustics, topped off by cartoon-ish vocals that echo Frank Zappa’s early material. As you can see, the comparisons to other groups are abundant but Big Fresh mix and match enough genres to call the varying stylistic results their own.
“Large Crowds” stands as one of Big Fresh’s biggest accomplishment though, introducing the listener to an otherworldly atmosphere that is the band’s own. It sounds as if The Flaming Lips combined with Depeche Mode, covering both spectrums of electronic pop with serenely entrancing synth lines and slickly utilized guitar progressions. The catchy “Satan, No” is more reflective of Of Montreal with its satirical lyrical content and key-led assortment of varying rhythmic transitions, made even funkier by an electronic edge that shows the group’s production chops and percussive emphasis. I guess it helps that R. Stevie Moore and Robert Schneider had a hand though, as their experience with the subtle grace of lo-fi production is practically unparalleled. For Big Fresh, their contributions on Big Fresh Forever contributes to a successful album that finds a young group inching closer to their eventual sound. The variety of comparisons warrants some indecisiveness, but there is so much to like on Big Fresh Forever that these insufficiencies can be overlooked. After all, any famous musician would be proud of an album like this, whether a family friend was involved or not.

in: http://obscuresound.com/

Listen here:
Obscure Sound - Indie Music Blog: "Big Fresh - Large Crowds"

Obscure Sound - Indie Music Blog: "Big Fresh - W.L.U.V."

Big Fresh - Satan, No

Manics Street Preachers- Jackie Collins Existential Question Time

Jackie Collins Existential Question Time, primeiro single Journal For Plague Lovers dos Maniac Street Preachers tem um vídeo que com certeza te levará de volta aos anos 90. Assistam e depois digam-me se não sentem saudades...



Produzido por Steve Albini, Journal For Plague Lovers é o nono disco da carreira dos galeses e foi lançado no dia 14 de maio. Todas as treze músicas do álbum foram escritas por Richard James Edwards, antigo guitarrista da banda que desapareceu misteriosamente em 1995 e foi declarado morto de forma oficial em novembro do ano passado.

O disco causou uma certa polémica nas lojas da Grã Bretanha, onde teve sua a capa censurada e proibida de ficar a mostra numa rede de supermercados local. Tudo porque trazia o rosto de um garoto com tintas em tons castanho, azuis e pretos, o que poderia sugerir alguns ferimentos, como se o menino tivesse levado pancada, o que a banda disse não ter nada a ver:


“ É bizarro que supermercados achem que a capa vai afectar a psyché de alguém.Apenas achamos que era uma pintura bonita. Se você for familiarizado com o trabalho de Seville, sabe que há um monte de tons castanhos e vermelhos. Talvez as pessoas queiram que sejamos mais provocativos que realmente temos sido. Nós apenas vimos uma versão mais moderna das pinceladas de Lucian Freud [opintor alemão]”. comentou o vocalista James Dean Bradfield numa entrevista.

O desenho é assinado por Jenny Saville, que já havia emprestado um de seus trabalhos para os Manic, quando estampou a capa de The Holy Bible ( album fantástico), disco lançado em 1994. Abaixo confiram a capa de Journal For Plague Lovers e as músicas que compõe o cd:

01. Peeled Apples

02. Jackie Collins Existential Question Time

03. Me and Stephen Hawking

04. This Joke Sport Severed

05. Journal for Plague Lovers

06. She Bathed Herself in a Bath of Bleach

07. Facing Page: Top Left

08. Marlon J.D.

09. Doors Closing Slowly

10. All Is Vanity

11. Pretension/Repulsion

12. Virginia State Epileptic Colony

13. William’s Last Words / Bag Lady



Já ouvi o disco meia dúzia de vezes e devo dizer que não estou desiludido, muito melhor que o disco anterior ( Send away the Tigers) a lembrar os álbuns conceptuais que nos habituaram nos anos noventa. A Peeled Apples, música que abre o álbum é poderosa com um bom som rockeiro. Depois todo o álbum segue esta linha salientando uma música cantada pelo baixista Nicky Wire, William’s Last Words, que é de uma delicadeza desarmante. Aconselho.

The Leisure Society ~ The Sleeper

I've spoken about this band and this album earlier on my blog, but as time goes by I became a fan of the band and the álbum. Remember the impcat of debut's album of Fleet Foxes... this one is also great!
Distilling into one record everything that’s good about Badly Drawn Boy ; the folk-pop novelty of Noah And The Whale; the gentle, pastoral reverie of early Lambchop; the quirky nonchalance of Clem Snide and a good measure of the Neil Hannon’s knack for self-conscious superiority, The Leisure Society have perhaps written and recorded a near perfect debut. It’s hyperbole, but who cares: this album is a classic from start to finish. Floating on a swell of guitar, autoharp, ukulele, banjo, steel and strings, The Sleeper could be the classic album Penguin Cafe Orchestra never released were it not for the vocals! Transatlantic in influence (the whimsical waltz, 'The Last of The Melting Snow’ has clearly ripped off Only Love Can Break Your Heart), but curiously English, the album has a maturity, space and depth that is truly refreshing, yet the never superfluous vocals could be dispensed with, and the music alone would still have a deeply affecting quality.Give us more, and deliver it soon. The album’s too short, but otherwise brilliantly conceived, organised and realised music - perfect.

The Beatles - White Album/Let It Be [1968/1970]

Música: Pop Rock/Rock & Roll/British Psychedelic Folk Rock/Hard Rock/Album Rock

Better known as the "White Album," this was meant to be the record that brought them back to earth after three years of studio experimentation. Instead, it took them all over the place, continuing to burst the envelope of pop music. Lennon and McCartney were still at the height of their powers, with Lennon in particular growing into one of rock's towering figures. But even McCartney could still rock, and the amazement on "Helter Skelter" was that he had vocal cords at the end. From Beach Boys knock-offs to reggae and to the unknown ("Revolution #9"), this has it all. Some records have legend written all over them; this is one... Sloppy in conception, and even sometimes in the playing, Let It Be often gets a bad rap. Unfairly, as it's often as charming, well written, and (oh yeah) rocking as the Beatles' "better" albums; it's also more outright fun than Abbey Road, the masterpiece it followed into the stores. With Lennon and McCartney working together on the perfect "I've Got a Feeling," "Two of Us," and "Dig a Pony," it's hard to believe these guys were about to implode. Get them both !

Klum

I guess they will be my next fetish band... look at their influences!

Urban legends and Hollywood productions certainly have a hand in molding the common perception of being in a band. Want a bowl of M&Ms in your room after the show, with all the brown ones removed? It’s on the way, sir. How about suggestively introducing some groupies to live seafood? Sounds fun. Between urban legends like these and the handful of pseudo-rockumentaries in the vein of Almost Famous, the romanticized concept of existing within a popular band has existed at least since the British invasion’s introductory use of rock ‘n’ roll stereotyping in the early ‘60s. Since that time, what these aspects of film often seem to overlook are the artistic obstacles involved in this creative process. They instead choose to focus on the overly grandiose lifestyles and unique personalities of the band members themselves, often showing artistic struggles as the result of drug addiction or non-commitment. After all, what is going to sell more: sex and drugs or watching an aging band attempt to write songs together? Commercialism tells us that it is the former, so it remains difficult to criticize these filmmakers for attempting to make the elements of existing within a popular band accessible and engaging. To deal with such expected fallacies though, looking at the reasons for the California-based Klum’s imminent success should enlighten many fans in regard to the inner-workings of a successful group more than any overly dramatized film or VH1 special.
When one looks back upon the most successful rock groups of the 20th century, it is distinctive that practically every group was based on collaborative quality. Led Zeppelin, The Beatles, and Pink Floyd all had some members that attracted the spotlight more than other members, but their mutual infusion of collaborative quality was a distinction that allowed their music to live without any major constraints that ended their careers as a group too abruptly. Many of these groups included members that could pick up nearly any instrument and start strumming away to perfection, indicative of their musical talent but also of their willingness to make communication between members as clearly as possible. Instrumental differences are a common detriment to a cumulative songwriting process, as the greatest songwriters tend to exhibit audible mastery of every instrument included in their work. Being a multi-instrumentalist or at least having a respectable grasp of a broad array of instruments makes working with others significantly easier, as their ideas can be extracted easily and fused with others to create something genuinely worthwhile. The six members in Klum are all multi-instrumentalists and it allows their songwriting to serve as a display of an extraordinarily impressive cumulative effort, reinforced by a mutual dedication to melodic astuteness and successful pop experimentation that each member demonstrates in their own unique way.

Klum’s second full-length album, We Carelessly Turned Amazingly Into Nothing, can show the band’s excellent chemistry just in the quality of the eleven songs alone, but experienced listeners will likely walk away more impressed by their ceaselessly unpredictable approach and tactful cohesiveness. Klum delivers the type of experimental pop music that hardly sounds experimental, an oddly exciting result that derives from infectious melodies, uplifting brass arrangements, and an unpredictable assortment of instrumentation and vocalists. As far as the classification of their genre goes, Klum and their efforts on We Carelessly Turned Amazingly Into Nothing are not restricted by any linear stylistic identity. “For Sale a New Life” plays like an amiable indie-pop charmer with its twinkling keys and ukulele accompaniment, while the fascinating “The Showmen” benefits from boisterous electric guitars, backing pub-like yelps, and concise brass arrangements. The former sounds like some spawn of Unicorns and The Leisure Society, while the latter finds distinctive comparisons to Elbow, British Sea Power, and art-rockers in the vein of Franz Ferdinand and Dogs. These comparisons alone suggest a vast difference in style on a track-by-track basis, which is true. But what must not go overlooked is Klum’s apparent ability to implement the stylistically diverse into a style that is honest, unique, and something that they can truly call their own.
While “For Sale a New Life” does a great job of showing off the band’s indie-pop leanings and “The Showmen” fulfills the task of successfully exposing Klum’s grittier, rock-oriented side, it is a few of the more interesting tracks on We Carelessly Turned Amazingly Into Nothing that really make it one of the most memorable debuts of the year thus far. The opening “Bashing for the Kids” plays with over-the-top guitar riffs and ardent vocal deliveries in a way that Black Kids would envy, indicative of Klum’s ability to bring out the expressively effective without appearing melodramatic. In fact, Klum seem free-spirited and fun most of the time, even during the somber chamber-pop balladry of “My Baby’s Just Stardust” and the twinkling build-up to the distorted angst of “Our Monster’s End.” Perhaps the biggest gem on the album though comes from “Nonbeliever”, an undeniably fist-pumping frenzy of a track that shows the group’s talents most prevalently. The various vocal melodies howl like wolves at the moon when the first verse is introduced, led astray over a catchy piano progression and a variety of samples that allow the song to be simultaneously haunting and infectious. The overlapping vocal harmonies of Brock Flores, Joe Fraley, and Aaron Arkenburg allow concurrent high-pitched and low-pitched vocals to supplement the brilliant intricacies of “Nonbeliever” as it flawlessly concludes the track. “Nonbeliever” should be all a listener needs to be convinced of Klum’s blatant ability, but the likes of “For Sale a New Life” and “The Showmen” also do a fine enough job. In fact, if I were forced to choose one track to represent this album, it would prove extraordinarily difficult. We Carelessly Turned Amazingly Into Nothing is too consistently memorable for such linear classifications.

in obscure

Conor Oberst ~ Outer South

" Nem todos os músicos resistem bem a surtos de atenção mediática. Durante anos, através de várias bandas e colaborações, Conor Oberst gravou discos que hoje ajudam a escrever alguns dos melhores episódios da história indie dos anos 90 e da presente década. A edição simultânea de dois álbuns em 2005 e histórias paralelas no reino das celebridades deram-lhe uma visibilidade que até então lhe era quase alienígena. Segiu-se um álbum menor de Bright Eyes em 2007. E, depois, uma nova etapa com discos em nome próprio, o segundo dos quais é o primeiro que co-assina com a Mystic Valley Band, um colectivo que reuniu para gravar (e pontualmente consigo escrever) as novas canções. Ao ouvir, agora, Outer South, fica claro que o que parecia um inesperado desnorte no álbum de 2008 se confirma como um programa de busca de outras paragens. O que, como o disco revela, nem sempre acaba com bons resultados. Outer South mostra como nem todo o trabalho de equipa segue a equação que diz que a soma do todo é melhor que as partes em separado. Na verdade, e no que cabe a Conor Oberst (que aqui cede frequentemente o protagonismo a outros outores e mesmo vozes), o disco deixa claro que estava melhor a solo, mesmo com nome de banda, que agora com banda, assinando com nome próprio. Não necessariamente mal acompanhado, mas claramente sem as rédeas nas mãos. Contudo, quando se ouve o belíssimo Ten Women, onde a sua identidade emerge, fica certo que nem tudo está perdido..."

in http://sound--vision.blogspot.com/

Armen Firman

The alternative band of the month.

If there is one genre that has been weakened by this decade’s demand for simplicity in popular music, alternative-rock likely takes the cake. There are groups like Nickelback and Feeder that constantly attempt to replicate a single idea, purely based on that idea’s prior success on the commercial market. As a result, many people have to come generalize alternative-rock as being naturally repetitive and devoid of any emotional variation. As the past shows, that could not be further from the truth. The definition of “alternative-rock” has undoubtedly changed since the ’80s, but most of us can remember when groups like R.E.M. and The Replacements ruled the alt-rock realm. Bands like those had a distinctive style that was incomparable to their peers; they also were able to make their material eclectic, unique, and engaging in ways that only an oblivious imitator could replicate. Guitars often led the pack of instrumentation, but it was never a given and song structures were generally just as unpredictable. Nowadays, you have alt-rock groups that literally use the same structure, instrumentation, and so-called “hook” for each and every one of their songs. They find success based on how they disguise this one-dimensional idea, not on whether they are able to impact the genre in an inventive and captivating way.

The lack of quality alternative-rock groups this decade has admittedly put the genre in an odd situation. The groups with plenty of exposure are often the ones that are least worthwhile, while a few of the others that strive for even a glance of success usually have the right influences in mind to emit an interesting enigma. I get a lot of the former in the mail from bands that are desperately trying to imitate the radio’s interpretation of quality alternative-rock. The latter, though, still tends to show up from time to time, in this case being the five guys in Armen Firman. Their name derives from the name of a man that reportedly attempted to fly in the year 852, with his conquest becoming a failure after his garment-fueled device fell to the ground. He sustained minor injuries though, mainly because he invented the parachute in the process of his own failure. When applied to this Australian five-piece, the name seems like a rather apt choice. Their style recalls a distant style of alternative-rock that has become nearly extinct since its disappearance in the late ‘90s, using a somewhat outdated approach to achieve success that is unparalleled by most new alt-rock groups of a similar vein. For a genre like this, going back in time is usually beneficial.

Although their debut EP consists of only five songs, Your Name in My Skin shows listeners all they need to know in providing surefire examples of Armen Firman’s throwback style of alt-rock. The production is often thick with a bustling rhythm section, aided by guitars that one would expect and orchestral implementations that one would not. A mixture of conventionalism and innovation is what Armen Firman do best on Your Name in My Skin. Conventionally accessible song structures and melodies allow their material to flourish in front of first-time audiences, but the differences between Armen Firman and other contemporaries is their variation. In regard to emotional depth, choice of instrumentation, and cumulative ardency, each track differs on Your Name in My Skin with deep resonance. They seem stuck in an age where groups like The Smashing Pumpkins, Yo La Tengo, and The Wrens stood tall with their diverse presentation of alt-rock, and sometimes being stuck in time can be the greatest thing in the world for a band of Armen Firman’s nature. The Melbourne natives seem well accustomed to alt-rock stemming from the US or UK, allowing them to tread the fine line between replicating influences and creating original gems.
Armen Firman’s songs, as a whole, tend to present an exterior that seems familiar, perhaps too familiar for some. But when listeners dig deeper and begin to treat the five-piece like, say, an alt-rock groups from the ‘80s or ‘90s, enjoyment should be imminent. Take “Porch Dweller” for instance, their first single. The song initially sounds like a journey into the world of dream-folk, taking on a twangy guitar progression, the steady use of a tambourine, and the subtle scent of an organ. When the other guitar track appears and begins to show the group’s intricate songwriting ability, it appears more reminiscent of exotic post-rock in the vein of Radiohead’s “Paranoid Android.” The chorus then strips itself down, led by the quick strums of a guitar and the concurrent usage of a delicate piano. A heavily reverbed guitar solo then paves the way for the song’s excellent conclusion. All these moments prove indicative of the band’s impressive grasp of variation, a skill that many contemporary artists fail to recognize despite their genre or level of commercial success. “In the Water” is a great display of the group’s energy, mainly because it allows vocalist Tom Whitty to cohesively show off his chops. The way his voice intensifies during the effervescent chorus reminds me of Chris Cornell, whose voice continues to impress me despite his music being mediocre at best. The ballad-like fluidity of “Only I Know You” shows the group’s impressive diversity even more, making a legitimate case for Your Name in My Skin being one of the better alt-rock EPs of the past several months.

in: http://obscuresound.com/?p=2934

Montains ~ Choral

Brendon Anderegg e Koen Holtkamp respondem como Mountains na hora de se apresentar como músicos. E Choral, o álbum através do qual assinalam a sua estreia para a Thrill Jockey, dá razão ao nome que escolheram para se dar a conhecer como criadores de paisagens sonoras. Não os tomemos por paisagistas, nem descendentes de uma lógica narrativa que fez escola junto de alguns compositores no século XIX. Porém, as visões que nos propõem no ciclo de temas que revelam em Choral sugerem pontos de fuga para lá do buliço urbano em contemplação tranquila, silenciosa, mas nem por isso desértica. O álbum lança-nos através de seis momentos onde se revelam caminhos traçados por electrónicas, instrumentos acústicos e sons ocasionais que acrescentam texturas a acontecimentos que, lentamente, evoluem e revelam formas. A identidade “essencialmente” ambiental desta música já lhes valeu comparações a Brian Eno. Porém, ao perfeccionismo do meticuloso trabalho de estúdio de Eno, que pode até ter constituído um motivo de reflexão, os Mountains respondem com uma música simples e, ao que parece, registada como se tocada ao vivo. Entre drones e ténues sugestões de melodia, Choral nasceu em espaço caseiro (em Brooklyn). Uma experiência interessante, que assimilou (e transformou já) sugestões do minimalismo, buscando sons que vivem entre o silêncio.

Dr. Dog ~ Fate

For their fifth album, Fate, Dr. Dog intentionally granted high expectations months before the release. Calling it the album that “they were destined to make”, it should make the album’s title a rather obvious one. However, considering that last year’s We All Belong was easily one of the best indie-rock releases of the year, improving upon a release that is widely considered their best may be a daunting task. For a band that has improved with each successive release though, success appeared nearly imminent. And while Fate does not substantially topple We All Belong in terms of overall consistency, it offers a few of the most rewarding moments that can be found on Dr. Dog’s growing discography. Considering that hints indicating Fate as their most expansive release to date were heavily prevalent, it is nearly ironic that the opening moments of “The Breeze” sound like the throwback lo-fi version of Dr. Dog, back in 2004 before My Morning Jacket scooped them up and brought them out on tour to expose them to an audience who would grow extremely fond of the Philly-based five-piece. As the track progresses though, “The Breeze” proves to be a great representation of Dr. Dog’s songwriting. The soft strumming of an acoustic guitar gradually shifts to a broader instrumental accompaniment that features a cohesive display of guitars, tropical keys, and cooing backing vocals, with the gradually augmented percussion establishing the build-up to an extremely commendable extent. Rather than attempting to bolster a previously acclaimed style, the rest of Fate sounds very much like - well - recent Dr. Dog. To Dr. Dog’s benefit, it results in being arguably the strongest album of their career. Much debate will eventually arise among fans that are split deciding which one of their three recent albums is Dr. Dog’s most effective. When listening to a succession of tracks in the middle of their most recent effort, it is hard not to make a case for Fate.
Army of Ancients” kicks off this irresistible run, sporting a combination of brass and strings that makes a striking impression when set against the backdrop of vigorous keys and Scott McMicken’s powerful vocals. He resembles an ardent fusion of Harry Nilsson and Richard Manuel as he lets out a highly emotive croon at the conclusion of each chorus; the whimper seems to get better each time around and establishes itself as a convincingly stable hook. “The Rabbit, the Bat, and the Reindeer” is more reminiscent of traditional Dr. Dog with its key-led progression and simplistically memorable chorus, but it fits exceedingly well between the ambitious pop of “Army of Ancients” and the outstanding “The Ark”. “The Ark” serves as a great achievement for a group even of Dr. Dog’s throwback mentality, as the diversity alone presented within its duration should silence any critics who describe their sound as being bland or overly imitative. Barely over three minutes long, both the track’s lyrical scope and melodic tendencies prove highly memorable. The topics range from war and remorse to love and faith, all presented in lyrical forms that contradict the conventional actions involved in all circumstances. The various progressions and rhythmic accompaniments are more subdued when compared to other efforts on the album but it bodes well with the content at hand. The chorus nearly resembles the grandiose flair of Pulp’s “This is Hardcore”, with Dr. Dog’s nostalgic tendencies emerging as the dividing factor. With the halted guitar-led stomps of “The Beach” and the intricately infectious “My Friend” closing off the album in equally impressive form, it is difficult to find a track on Fate that is not wholesomely enjoyable to some extent. So, in the end, is Fate a massive improvement upon We All Belong? No, but it is just as consistent and massively enjoyably as its predecessor. And since We All Belong was one of the best releases of last year, Fate also slides in nicely as one of the most accomplished indie-rock albums of 2008.

Crocodiles

Another promisse of excellent music for my head!

Psychedelia is rarely looked upon as the most intricate or respectable of genres. Throw in a little reverb here, add some overlapping vocal melodies there, and you have yourself a song typical of the style. The dismissal of psychedelia is usually rooted in one of two excuses, with one being the genre’s linear composure and the other related to the supposed target audience of deadbeats and hippies. Both are horrible stereotypes, especially in response to a genre that – if anything – is more overlooked than most styles of indie-rock that occupy the mainstream today. Although it is true that there have been many desperate psychedelia artists and fans that are tripping too hard to know who is on stage, I feel that the artists that utilize elements of psychedelia while maintaining an emphasis on other genres are being underappreciated because of this ridiculous generalizations. Spacemen 3 is the first group that comes to mind for me, as they prominently infused a new style of psychedelia that was previously interpreted as unconventional and devoid of focus. They were able to create beautiful melodies with heavy distortion and pulsing percussion, an aspect that captured fans due to the unique contrasting of different stylistic methods. Implementation of synths, one-chord jam sessions, and avant-garde production and structural techniques were prevalent, and the cult following they amassed was in result to a sound that was both incomparable and inventively brilliant.

Even if they are not exactly household names to casual music fans, groups like Spacemen 3 and The Jesus and Mary Chain are responsible for molding the current perception of psychedelia as a genre that is often unpredictable and inherently multifarious. Bands like Deerhunter, Wavves, and Crystal Stilts are all clearly indebted to this, as defining their music often is an inconclusive task that leads us somewhere between psychedelia, post-punk, and indie-rock. One could say that the newest group to emerge from this righteous philosophy has the potential to be the most eclectic of them all. Crocodiles have been building some buzz for the past several months, thanks to some help from a group of a comparable stylistic vein. They were propelled initially by the praise of acclaimed noise-pop duo No Age, who wrote on their site at the end of 2008 that Crocodiles’ “Neon Jesus” was one of their favorite songs of the year. A record deal with Fat Possum Records followed less than a month later, and Crocodiles soon enough found themselves caught up in an unavoidable stream of hype. That the two frontmen consist of a teacher and a butcher almost sounds like the start of a bad joke, but it is hard to blame a band at the middle-point between obscurity and renown for holding a steady job. Butchers and teachers rarely cross paths in the world of traditional occupations, but Crocodiles appears as an exhibit of one of the best songwriting partnerships of 2009.

While one would have usually found Brandon Welchez substitute-teaching in a classroom or Charles Rowell baking bread in a bakery instead of on stage or in the studio, they are both currently in the midst of a national tour that demands a show nearly every night for several months. It is hard to blame the demand for Crocodiles though, as it seems that they have emerged at a perfect time when fusions of psychedelia are accessible and familiar to many listeners of indie-rock. Crocodiles’ mixture of psychedelia, noise-pop, and post-punk has earned them comparisons to Spacemen 3 and the like, but there is a sense of modernistic ingenuity even on unavoidably nostalgic efforts like “I Wanna Kill” and “Here Comes the Sky.” It is their stylistic adeptness that carries them far on most occasions, as their display of wispy synth lines, roaring guitars, and alternating percussion show the duo’s most glaring strength. These contrasting elements prevail as surprisingly cohesive standards thanks to Crocodiles’ impressive songwriting and stylistic composure, one that achieves innovative greatness despite some enjoyably blatant influences. “I Wanna Kill” plays with the buoyant reverb of ‘80s indie-rock staples like Echo & the Bunnymen, while the jagged “Flash of Light” is highly reminiscent of the artsy yelps and spurting bass that is typical of contemporary noise-pop. Their debut album, Summer of Hate, feels like one accessible time machine; the duo appears with a seamless ability to either singularly focus on one period or fuse them together to create something extraordinarily unique.
The unique craftsmanship of Summer of Hate results in an album that values consistency in a different light than most contemporary artists. Somehow, despite the fact that nearly each and every song sounds like it originated from a different time period, each and every song flows into one another gracefully with no force at all. “Soft Skull (In My Room)” touts vocal ardency with some impressive guitar work and utilization of synths, but a hazily ethereal demeanor still lurks in Welchez’s blithe vocals and Rowell’s light synths. As a result, the transition into the beautiful “Here Comes the Sky” succeeds without a hitch. Keys take on a similar rhythmic role as the synths on “Soft Skull (In My Room)”, but the duo’s psychedelic ventures are considerably more prevalent here with a single reverbed guitar and choir-like assortment of synth pads enclosing the track into thickly reverberating heights. The style reminds me more of Blur’s more psychedelic material (“1992”, the bulk of 13) than psych-rock shape-shifters like Spacemen 3, but this time it results in perhaps the group’s greatest achievement thus far. Summer of Hate is a distinctively memorable debut that achieves based on its own innovation, as it masterfully juggles the divide between audible influence and focused creativity.

Crocodiles - I Wanna Kill

Richard Swift ~The Atlantic Ocean

Richard Swift’s scraggly beard, endearing voice, and piano-based delivery can all be indicative of the past in some way, but such superficial elements cannot even touch upon what makes Swift one of the most chronologically misplaced songwriters around. Instead, it is the methodology that surrounds Swift’s material that makes him look somewhat out of place in the midst of glitzy songwriters who release an album once every few years and use their appearance to define their music. This ostentatious nature is an unfortunate plague to the modern music industry, but it also allows us to focus more on songwriters like Swift who never appear to be satisfied with their material, always working towards the next release in an effort for continuous improvement. His appearance is never desperately synonymous with his sound, and his work ethic implies a constant yearning for stylistic experimentation in an effort to acquire experience and apply that to his future releases. Like contemporaries in the vein of Spencer Krug or Noah Lennox, he is a songwriter who can be held accountable for one release or more per year that exhibits an ability to cultivate innovation from pre-existing ideas that are accessible enough to attract a significant audience. Unlike many songwriters, Swift has the ability to remain seemingly unsatisfied with frequently excellent work, adjusting it ever so slightly without ever emitting a slight tinge of desperation.
These examples of work ethic, concisely engineered degrees of success, and stylistic experimentation can all be derived from Swift’s impressive discography, a collection bursting with different styles and approaches. The California native hardly adorns his material with bells and whistles, instead resorting to a generally straightforward production that shows off his raw skills quite unintentionally. You will find few artists today that continue to utilize a four-track, citing a lack of polish and flexibility. In Swift’s case, though, he has shown that the method applies considerably well to his music. After first finding his love for performing music by singing in Quaker churches in his early teens, Swift spent the remainder of his teenage years working on his songcraft with a four-track by his side. He moved to Southern California at the age of 23 and recorded Walking Without Effort that same year. Already beyond his years in terms of artistic management, he chose to shelve the release because of his dissatisfaction with it. Consider this: You are a starving artist without a release to your name. You complete a couple of songs and they are polished enough for an average to positive response. Most bands or artists in this position would rush to put it out, probably in an effort to say that they “have an album out.” This is what separates Swift from the rest. His ideology is so mature and selfless that it ends up positively overlapping into his music.

Since his sixth great uncle is the famous satirist and writer Jonathan Swift, one could say that good storytelling runs in Richard Swift’s family. Naturally, his lyrical ability is wildly impressive and has been since the since the double-release of his first two albums, Walking Without Effort and The Novelist, in 2005 by Secretly Canadian. The primary theme of The Novelist was heavily indicative of Swift’s forte, a writer who often comes across the romanticized perspective of unheralded artists. Simultaneously embracing all naturalistic aspects outside the realm of technology and toying with the idea of the overly romanticized artist, The Novelist was the first release that brought Swift some recognition. After that, the releases started to flow with Dressed Up for the Letdown in 2007, Richard Swift as Onasis in 2008, and now The Atlantic Ocean in 2009. He also released an album called Music from the Films of R/Swift under the alias of Instruments of Science and Technology, his ambient electronica side project, in 2008. While Walking Without Effort and The Novelist showed Swift’s blissful interpretation of Tin Pan Alley pop, each successive release had a tendency to explore new territory without sounding like an overbearing stylistic transition. Much of Swift’s material has been rooted in melodically rich pianos and rewarding hooks and these are the traits that have always remained constant.
Swift’s new album, The Atlantic Ocean, appears to be his most stylistically decisive effort yet, opting for a highly enjoyable mixture of piano ballads and key-led pop, with an occasional guitar here and there providing for a touch of rock ‘n’ roll. The keys are often adorned with bouncy synths, a trait that makes tracks like “The Original Thought” and “A Song for Milton Feher” one of the best on the album. Swift’s voice is endearing in a throwback sort of way, at times becoming startlingly reminiscent of the late Dennis Wilson and his brooding voice’s ability to sound remarkable over a piano. Swift’s material is a bit more excitable and upbeat, but a track like “Ballad of Old What’s His Name” succeeds tremendously with a spine-chilling chorus that has Swift repeating, “Please don’t you cry anymore,” over a rollicking southern rock flair. The guitar progressions are later accentuated by a beautiful horn section, sounding stunning under Swift’s excellent chorus. The equally outstanding “Already Gone” capitalizes similarly on Swift’s ethereal vocals during the chorus, though this time it is preceded by a brooding piano as Swift takes on a nasally delivery that seems almost Elvis Costello-like. “You know I love you, so honey don’t go, too many secrets you’ll never knows,” he croons in a near-whisper over the wavering of synths and a forceful piano. “But it’s already gone.” For Swift, it’s only beginning.
Although he may be classified as such, Swift is not a throwback ideas. His ideas are much too original to be grouped into such a category. The sheer consistency of The Atlantic Ocean makes it an excellent album in itself, but one truly has to applaud Swift for refining an already-accomplishable style into something with a bit more kick. Even on stylistically differing tracks like the consummate synth-pop of “Hallelujah, Goodnight!”, the intentionally distinctive image of ‘60s pop on “Lady Luck”, and the steady folk-rock of “Bat Coma Motown”, Swift succeeds on all fronts by providing diversity without sacrificing the heart of The Atlantic Ocean. Additional instrumentation like guitars, banjo, and horns make sporadic appearances throughout the album, and the various ways in which they are incorporated is highly impressive. Swift manages the gap between instantly receptive gems like “The Original Thought” and “A Song for Milton Feher” and invigorating displays of ardent triumph like “Ballad of Old What’s His Name” and “Already Gone” with remarkable precision, and it is an attribute that makes The Atlantic Ocean one of the most consistently satisfying releases of the year. 9.0/10

Neko Case ~ Middle Cyclone

Nos últimos anos vimo-la, sobretudo, dedicada ao trabalho com os New Pornographers, uma banda indie rock canadiana que nos deu já uma mão cheia de belos discos. Contudo, Neko Case não esgota a sua arte nem com os Ñew Pornographers nem apenas entre as fronteiras (vastas, é certo) dos domínios indie rock... A sua discografia abarca outros destinos e várias outras parcerias, ocasionalmente abrindo espaço para um novo disco a solo. Não acontecia desde 2006 (com uma gravação ao vivo editada em 2007, é verdade). Middle Ciclone assinala um regresso em boa forma num disco que, apesar de traduzir uma alma “country” vai muito para lá dos cânones de Nashville. Canções que reflectem sobre espaços rurais, a vastidão do olhar e as paisagens, os ventos, brotam numa encruzilhada onde, além das heranças country se convocam experiências indie e até mesmo marcas de assimilação de um rock clássico. Canções aparentemente frágeis, suportadas por uma voz que sabe o que diz e como o diz. Com Neko Case encontramos uma pequena família de convidados entre os quais Garth Hudson (The Band) e membros dos Calexico, Giant Sand ou Los Lobos. Um disco seguro nos originais, que captam as vivências das várias experiências de Neko Case. Interessante nas versões propostas, ora revisitando os Sparks (Never Turn Your Back On Mother Earth) ou Harry Nilsson (Don’t Forget Me). A expressão “força da natureza” tem sido comum em muitos dos textos críticos sobre Middle Ciclone. E faz sentido. Pela relação com o mundo natural onde estão as raizes das imagens destas canções. Pela alma livre de quem as compôs.Neko Case“Middle Cyclone”Anti / Popstock4 / 5Para ouvir: MySpace
Publicada por Nuno Galopim em : http://sound--vision.blogspot.com/

The Knife ~ Fever Ray

Em 2006 o espantoso Silent Shout tirou a dupla sueca The Knife de uma condição de quase anonimato em que, ao terceiro disco, ainda viviam. O álbum revelou significativas mudanças na música da dupla de irmãos que constitui o grupo, propondo uma pop electrónica sombria, cinematográfica, num diálogo de raro entendimento entre o humano e o digital, entre os universos da música popular e os da arte conceptual, ideia amplificada depois na “experiência visual” que os acompanhou em palco e acabou documentada no disco (e DVD) ao vivo que editaram algum tempo mais tarde. E a seguir fez-se silêncio. Na verdade os Manos Olof e Karin têm trabalhado num projecto que verá a luz do dia mais para a frente, ainda este ano: uma ópera inspirada pela figura de Charles Darwin (Tomorrow In a Year, com estreia agendada para Novembro, em Copenhaga). Karin Andersson, a voz do grupo, colaborou entretanto com os Royksopp e dEUS. E entre o trabalho com o irmão para a ópera “darwinista” encontrou tempo para criar um conjunto coeso de canções, que agora edita como Fever Ray. O álbum, na verdade, é um descendente directo de Silent Shout, refreando o todavia desejo de manipular a voz e travando eventuais ímpetos rítmicos. É um disco igualmente assombrado, de melodismo em diálogo com as cenografias, à voz cabendo um protagonismo narrativo em histórias de solidão. Canções envolventes, apesar da atmosfera gélida que traduzem. Canções que caminham lentas, ganham familiaridade, libertam fantasmas, e criam gradual empatia com o ouvinte, num degelo que reconforta. ouvir: MySpace
Publicada por Nuno Galopim em : http://sound--vision.blogspot.com/

Bob Dylan ~ Together Through Life

Esta é a capa do novo álbum de Bob Dylan, Together Through Life, que tem data de lançamento a 28 de Abril. O disco, como Dylan já explicou em entrevistas, surgiu depois de ter escrito uma canção para a banda sonora do filme My Own Love Story, de Olivier Dahan, tendo as restantes canções surgido logo depois. De certa maneira, o filme serviu como uma das fontes de inspiração. A capa, por sua vez, usa uma fotografia de 1959 de Bruce Davidson, da série Brooklyn’s Gang.

Eels : Hombre Lobo

Os Eels preparam-se para lançar um novo disco no próximo mês de Junho. O álbum, o sétimo na conta da banda, chama-se "Hombre Lobo" e chega às lojas no dia 2 de Junho, com 12 temas no seu alinhamento. Este é o sucessor de "Blinking Lights and Other Revelations", de 2005.Os Eeels surgiram na era pós-grunge, ao fazerem pequenos concertos em clubes de Los Angeles. O vocalista e guitarrista Mark Everett, juntamente com o baixista Tommy Walter e o baterista Butch Norton, depois de se conhecerem no clube Mint Room, durante uma jam session, cativaram a atenção da cena nocturna na cidade. A editora DreamWorks fez a proposta para um contrato e assim foi editado o primeiro álbum, "Beautiful Freak", em 1996. O som dos Eels era na época definido como algo entre o hip-hop, o jazz e o grunge, entre outros estilos e compostos. Foi esta mistura de categorias que lhes deu estatuto. O álbum, segundo o mentor do grupo, é a expressão em música da celebração da diferença, contemplando e dando um lugar à beleza de todos aqueles que são considerados "fora do comum". As composições dos Eels cedo se viram influenciadas pelos dissabores de vida do vocalista, que partiu para a Califórnia depois do suicídio de uma irmã. Antes, a sua infância não tinha sido propriamente feliz, com um caminho nas drogas duras desde tenra idade. "Electro-Shock Blues" foi o segundo longa duração editado, com claros reflexos desses períodos negros, por vezes com referências feitas em temas como "Elisabeth On The Bathroom Floor", "My Descent Into Madness" e "Going To Your Funeral". Antes da digressão promocional do segundo álbum, o baixista Tommy Walter deixou a banda.Dois anos depois, em 2000, os Eels editam "Daisies Of The Galaxy". O álbum perpetua o carácter introspectivo das composições de Mark Everett na obra dos Eels. A morte da mãe, no fim de 1998, constituiu mais um penoso marco para o vocalista e compositor. As criações expostas neste álbum têm, no entanto, um carácter mais leve comparativamente ao trabalho anterior. O disco contou com a participação de Grant Lee Phillips, dos Grant Lee Buffalo, no baixo e de Peter Buck, dos R.E.M., no piano e guitarra. A promoção do disco foi feita em digressão ao longo do ano 2000, com concertos em todo o mundo, entre os quais, nas primeiras partes de Fiona Apple. Em 2001, os Eels gravam "Souljacker", um disco directamente inspirado no assassino norte-americano que assombrou os EUA na década de 90, e que para além de matar as suas vítimas clamava que lhes roubava a alma.2003 marca a edição do álbum "Shootenanny!" (gravado em 10 dias) e a ruptura das relações entre Mark Everett e o baterista de sempre, Butch, que ocorre por razões monetárias.Em 2005, os Eels lançam o seu maior projecto de sempre: o álbum duplo "Blinking Lights and Other Revelations", com 33 faixas, e colaborações do guitarrista Peter Buck (R.E.M.) e de Tom Waits.

disponível em : http://barcoancorado.blogspot.com/

The Gift Machine ~ Another good surprise

The term “musical entrepreneur” would seem to apply well to Dave Matthies, but he would likely take none of the credit. Over the past decade, Matthies has been a constant force in positively impacting the ability of other artists. He has flown under the radar in providing significant contributions to reputable artists like Phil Elverum (the Microphones, Mt. Eerie), Karl Blau, and Steve Moore (Laura Veirs, Mount Analog, Stembo), taking on various tasks that include producer, engineer, and performer in order to aid fellow talented musicians and get his ideas heard. Despite his impressive resume though, many still are unaware that he is very capable songwriter in his own right with a wide array of differing releases. Under the name of The Gift Machine, he has taken an interesting approach in using his variety of connections within the industry to enlist a wide array of talented collaborators to make each one of his releases enjoyable and uniquely memorable. In his releases under The Gift Machine, Matthies has never been particularly unconventional or experimental in his approach, often opting for the enjoyable three-minute pop song over the epically orchestrated vein of indie-rock. With his deeply solemn voice and ability to turn a simplistic melody into one that becomes unavoidably engrained in a listener’s head, his experience in the music industry has certainly allowed him to capitalize on his strengths.
As he alternates between living in Washington and California, Matthies is prominent among Washingtonians for being the owner of Vibe Control Studio, an ex-police/fire station that was turned into a recording studio. In addition to the variety of camps that were offered at the studio for aspiring musicians that wanted to know the basics of production, the studio has hosted everyone from Phil Elverum to Karl Blau, both of whom have engineered their own albums in the facility. As it makes sense since Matthies runs it, Vibe Control Studios is also the location of The Gift Machine’s recordings. Considering that he runs a respectable studio, it may seem surprising that Matthies’ new album, Goodbye/Goodluck, is the first of five releases that will actually reach the general public. The method of releasing Matthies’ past material – three full-lengths and two EPs – was basically where he gave a few copies to friends, associates, and fans at shows and was content. After all, Matthies strikes many as a musician/producer/engineer who is in it for the art form, not for the money or glory. And on Goodbye/Goodluck, these sentiments are more visible than ever. Even though Matthies is releasing this nationally through a label for the first time, he likely understands that the fantastic quality of this record has the potential to stimulate the artistic senses of those that listen to it.

Like all of his prior releases, Matthies has placed the aspect of collaboration as a high priority. He is the sole songwriter and creative engineer on the majority of songs on Goodbye/Goodluck, but the infusion of collaboration plays a heavy role on the eventual style presented on the album. Here, Matthies has enlisted the graceful vocals of Andrea Gruber. She sings in unison with Matthies nearly on every track, resulting in a beautiful male-female duet in a type of which we have all heard before, but Matthies plays with the vocal approach so well that it feels new and invigorating. This can be attributed to his style, which is a suave and subtly infectious form of pop music with audible references to psychedelia and surf-rock. The songs never appear overwhelming with their soft percussion, whimsy keys, or acoustic guitars at the forefront, but Matthies’ greatest strength appears to be his ability to make each track structurally cohesive. The melodies always start out simple, but Matthies employs a variety of hooks and melodic alterations to supplement simplicity in the best way possible. This is particularly evident on the delightful “In the Middle”, where Matthies and Gruber show off an excellent vocal contrast in Matthies’ warmly musky grumbles and Gruber’s angelically high-pitched delivery. That their contrasting voices work so well together is part of the song’s allure, but it is not the only reason for song’s satisfactory nature.
“In the Middle” begins straightforwardly with a very restrained organ and frail rhythm section, but the song serves as the perfect example of The Gift Machine’s tendency to expand upon simple pleasures. When the strum of an acoustic guitar signals the emergence of an electric guitar, the intensity in both of their voices increases before Gruber harmonizes with the backing instrumentation on her own. By the time the song ends, it will likely be hard to turn away from The Gift Machine now. Matthies’ lyrics are in the first-person on every track apart from “What Do You Require”, an apt choice considering the very personable nature of the instrumentation. The verses often take on the format of a haiku, connecting small and simple sentences together to craft something thought-provoking and genuine. The self-titled track is also indicative of the developmental nature of The Gift Machine, as what begins as little more than a single acoustical guitar eventually evolves into something with slide guitars, keys, and some clever harmonizing.
Basically, what these songs should provide is an example of why listeners should give The Gift Machine the time they deserve. Their songs may not grab you instantaneously, but listening to each song in its entirety will almost certainly reward the listener. For instance, “It Had to Be You” may even sound a bit clumsy during its first minute or so, but as it evolves the unique nature of the song results in an unpredictable and highly enjoyable effort. It is particularly impressive toward its instrumental conclusion, where a bunch of twinkling keys form over a key progression to establish a twee-pop type of feel. Goodbye/Goodluck is now available via KNW-YR-OWN Records, a Washington-based label that Matthies helped form. It is just one of the many achievements that he has to his name. Despite all of them though, Goodbye/Goodluck is of such a high quality that it may be his finest to date.