"We are in the midsts of crisis..." "...the challenges that we face are real...they will not be met easily...but...they will be met" "...the risk takers, the doers...who have carried us up the long rugged path towards prosperity and freedom..." "...and so, to all the other peoples and governments who are watching today...know that America is a friend of each nation and every man, woman and child who seeks a future of peace and dignity..." "at this moment...a moment that will define a generation...it is ultimately the faith and determination of the American people upon which this nation relies..."
"what is required of us now is a new era of responsibility..."
.....and, looking back, Frank Rich sums up all the great "achievements" of the Bush Administration - (from his 2007 book The Greatest Story Ever Sold) (p.208)
“It’s legacy will include the destruction of America’s image, credibility and prestige abroad; record budget deficits produced by unchecked spending and tax cuts; an abused and broke military; a subversion of the Constitution achieved by rigidly ideological judicial appointments, the abridgement of civil liberties and outright lawbreaking in the White House; an indifference to environmental imperatives, including the energy conservation urgently needed to end America’s chronic economic dependence on the congenitally unstable Middle East; and the promotion of America’s homegrown religious fundamentalism with both official and political assaults on medical and earth science (including evolution) and the rights of gay Americans. (And that’s just the short list.)” Not to mention “No Child Left Behind [doing] more for the nation’s testing industry than for students, who found their curricula narrowed to the two subjects (math and reading) measured by tests.” And the “…AIDS initiative…blunted by being yoked to abstincence programs that flattered Christian right voters in the Republican base but were irrelevant to the rampaging life-or-death tragedy in Africa.”
And finally, - indifference towards rebuilding infrastructure, lack of investment in education, the failure of emergency response to Hurricane Katrina and lying their way into a phony war…
Thank you very much, Mr. 43 “President…” Good riddance.
As I've said a few times already throughout the winter: "It's going to feel weird to actually like the President..."
And, once I said it I sort of scared myself - I think the country may be getting a bit too inebriated on Hope. I just got off the phone with Eric Earley, the lead singer/guitarist from Blitzen Trapper - and since he was one of the first human beings I encountered today, on this Martin Luther King Day, Jan 19 - 2009, I shared my own feelings, my apprehensions, about the ravenous celebrations for Barack Obama's inauguration with him. To which, he claimed himself to be an eternal cynic - which is disconcerting, yes...but in times like these...perhaps we need such people around, to bring us back down...
It IS historical and it IS to be ravenously celebrated. That cannot be expressed enough...
I'm just hoping that when the streamers flutter to the ground and the applause fades away and our rock star Commander-in-Chief slides cooly into the oval office - that we all wise up and start remembering that cynicism can be a very healthy thing. And so can desent. Even in the face of what has the potential to be one of the most popular presidencies of all time. We all liked Clinton most of the time - but he got away with some grimy, seruptitious back-alley buggery of the American trust.
But, I say all this while being a...well, avid(?) Obama supporter. Let us not all get drugged into a submissive lull...while the government continues dealing shady stabs into the already devastatingly bedraggled sails of the next generations ship.
And, at the same time - YES...let us celebrate this indescribably monumental moment in history.
The present - is immensely exciting for the potential we hold in our hands. The future - is uncertain...let's not fuck it up this time.
from Joan Walsh (salon.com) http://www.salon.com/opinion/feature/2009/01/19/mlk/ "With Martin Luther King Jr.'s 80th birthday celebration only a day before Barack Obama becomes our first black president, it's impossible not to focus on the redemptive symmetry between 1968, when King was murdered, and 2008, the year of Obama's unlikely victory. But I find myself thinking much more about 1966 as I wonder whether and how Obama can complete King's work..."
Now, consider the Ferndale Public Library a beacon of support for local music - and an opportunity for up-and-coming bands to be heard. The once dusty, computer-less joint at 222 E. 9-mile in Ferndale has gotten serious over the past 3 years - rearranging its sections, beefing up its collections and now, it's being revitalized by some young, hip, ear-to-the-ground-n'-finger-on-the-pulse librarians who, it doesn't hurt,--like to hit up lots of shows on weekends...
...Thus they've come across bands like The Dirtbombs, The Oscillating Fan Club and Terrible Twos- all of which you can find recent recordings of in the library - ready to be checked out. (Indicated by a Local Artist sticker - and you can check it out for 2 weeks - no charge!)Kelly Bennett, one of the Library’s Circulation Specialists, began contacting local record labels and placing orders. “They all seemed amenable to the idea of us circulating their CDs for free, which kind of surprised me,” said Ms. Bennett.
Certainly, a great way for the library to reach out into the music community and meet local musicians,” said Doug Raber, the Library Director, “Eventually, we hope to hold live performances in the building, bringing another dimension to our support of local music”. The Library did this once, at last fall’s DIY Fest, when Molly Jean played in their meeting room as part of a program of events.
The Library also invites patrons, bands and music fans to suggest or donate CDs by local artists.
Arts Academy in the Woods (in Fraser, MI): a Public School with heavy focus on blending the fine and performing arts in with academics - is featuring it's 2nd "Rock Show" tonight!
doors are at 6:30 pm show at 7:30 pm in the school auditorium featuring Wildcatting, Deastro and more!
located at: 32101 Caroline Street · Fraser · MI · 48026
~
as Bush is finally.... finally on his way out: a few links
So, the once sun-baked lo-fi grime punks turned exceptionally honed raucous rockers, Atlanta GA's Black Lips - are not only touring (here in Detroit on 3 /13 , not only releasing a new album (200 Million Thousand! - Vice) - but they're also having a video contest...for this song
The band announced the contest over an holiday e-card, providing the chance for fans (...or...whoever really, fan-ship is not a requirement) can submit their own video-interpretations set to this song. The once "flower-punks" partnered through vimeo.com and will be taking submissions through Feb. 15th. And then, their latest opus - 200 Million Thousand - comes out and into the ears of the public on Feb. 24th. ...and, apparently, Myspace is "presenting" this tour...(half of the dates are here - for those of us closer to the mid-west and east coast)
MySpace Music Presents Tour: 03-04 Carrboro, NC - Cat's Cradle 03-05 Washington, DC - Black Cat 03-06 Philadelphia, PA - Johnny Brenda's 03-07 Cambridge, MA - Middle East 03-09 New York, NY - Bowery Ballroom 03-10 Brooklyn, NY - Music Hall of Williamsburg 03-12 Cleveland, OH - Beachland Ballroom 03-13 Detroit, MI - Magic Stick 03-14 Chicago, IL - Logan Square Auditorium 03-15 Milwaukee, WI - Turner Hall Ballroom 03-16 St. Paul, MN - Turf Club 03-17 Omaha, NE - Waiting Room 03-18 Lawrence, KS - Bottleneck 03-20 Austin, TX - SXSW 03-21 Austin, TX - SXSW 03-23 New Orleans, LA - One Eyed Jacks 03-25 Tallahassee, FL - Club Downunder 03-26 Tampa, FL - Orpheum 03-27 Miami, FL - Churchill's 03-28 Gainesville, FL - Common Ground 03-29 Jacksonville, FL - Jack Rabbits 03-30 Orlando, FL - The Social
Forget that you haven’t been to practices, you can’t carry a tune and you look really awkward trying to figure out those frets on the guitar neck – you’re still in the JSB Squad. In fact, “everyone in existence”—save one grouchily antagonistic drunk woman—is in the band.
Jesse Shepherd-Bates has been playing music and writing songs since he was 13, being self-taught in both respects and having the development of one aid the other and vice-versa. Growing up in Commerce Township under “flower children” parents (“music’s always been a big part of their life, my dad’s the best bass player I know,”) Bates grew up “not even knowing new music existed,” enveloped by the wide range of pop’s golden age and mused by the trailblazing signature singer/songwriters of the 60’s repertoire.
And, “you can’t be kicked out” of the Squad. Bates, with high-school-day’s friend, guitarist George Morris, started the Satin Peaches in 2004. The local quartet’s fuzz-clambered brit-pop-facilitated-art-punk-revivalism soon caught the ear of Island records. By the time the band signed, Morris “and I went our separate ways,” said Bates. This is only after the Peaches went through 5 or so member shifts. This frustrating band jostling inspired the indestructible camaraderie and inclusiveness of the Squad. A year or so went by and Bates was contacted by another young auspicious singer/songwriter, Mick Bassett (wrapping up former band the Doll Faces to start his current gig, the Marthas) and asked Bates to join. Join, he did, and has played/recorded with Bassett throughout 07-08, while keeping ties to Morris (and fellow Peaches Jeremy Smith, Aaron Nelson & Ryan Weise).
“[Writing]’s just a compulsive thing,” said Bates, “I needed an outlet; to make sure I can play on my own.” Through 07-08, Bates started recording the weird pop songs he’d been writing since his Peaches departure – aided often by drummer Smith. In February, the Squad debuted live: Bates, Smith and Eric Roosen (current Marthas drummer). “It’s been expanding every show (since). The next version was like the warm up for the CD-release, [the original trio] plus [Morris], [Bassett], so we were up to five, and then the next show there were eight…” then 10. In October, at the Garden Bowl, there were 12, and most recently, they “scaled back down to 10,” at a show that initiated Hard Lessons’ guitarist Augie Vissochi onto the live roster and featured a drawn out encore that didn’t even directly involve Bates.
The live band includes/has-included: You, Bates, Smith, Roosen, Morris, Bassett, Gordon Smith, Weise, Ryan Hoger, Allison Young, Nelson, Alex Winston, Katie Long, Vissochi, Steve Kempany, Emily Laquinta, Joel Sanders and Renee Lombardi.
Live - it’s that Free Bird go-for-broke mentality to the fifth dimension, with pop-rock’s swing and punk-shredded potential overkill, that risks running off the skids and into oblivion but hangs together with a shining chemistry; an unspoken, nigh-spiritual-feeling, purely musical communication between the cadre of players on stage. And at the heart of this wild web symphony, the spurring of the whole project, is the heart and soul of a songwriter, Bates – who now utilizes his friendships, his relations to other people, to the world, as instruments – and plays them at every show. It should be emphasized that, as a live creature it is overwhelming (grand, and inspiring), but its core is still Bates’ songs – and any touring version would likely be (as it has been already at open mics and coffee shops) just Bates.
It could be the onset of a movement, an oncoming generational shift – like the Beats, or the Factory or the NY punk explosion…Bates, with comrades Morris and Bassett are intertwining their musical escapades ever more closely by the month. Most recently, Bassett and Bates established Sleek Speek Recordings (sleekspeek.com), a sort-of-label/vehicle to release recordings of the Squad, the Marthas and also, hopefully the Satin Peaches in the coming year.
“We sorta, just wanna take over…like a 3 headed monster,” said Bates. “The goal is to have it be a community. We all love each other and try to support each other; we all just really fell in love with the music that other people are making and we wanted to find a way to support each other.”
Last summer, Bates released Squad debut Blue Circles, Rubber Bands, a range of soulful sunny grooves, stripped piano balladry and cutting guitar-fuzz grinds. He describes his process less as writing and more as “building,” a construction site left open and malleable throughout its gestation to any influences, Beck, Flaming Lips, Broken Social Scene. “You’re not writing the songs…” said Bates, stressing a more organic experience, a flow – “that’s how you can change.”
“Weird, in a great way…” I told Bates what I thought of the sound. “…like elements thrown together that don’t seem like they’d fit, but by the time your half-way through the song, it feels right…”
“That might be the best way to describe my whole musical mentality,” said Bates, his bespectacled, pensive eyes and enthusing grin framed by a jet-black mane of locks.
This year, Bates, and the JSB Squad look forward to “just doing more. Last year was getting it all set up…” Bates is currently revamping the FreEP, (“no amps, just guitars, banjos, mandolins, pianos, vocals, tambourine, bongo” and lots of mics) and looks forward to more shows, be they 10+ or solo.
“I think the Squad,” Bates said, describing the live performances, “is more about energy.” But, he pauses and quickly corrects with a nod, “the Squad’s not about anything…it’s eclectic.”
Kevin McGorey knows I’m searching for the meaty catastrophe.
Huddled in their Ferndale practice space, I’m pointing out that Detroit quartet The Word Play started tracking their debut LP How I Became Illustrated nearly 2 years ago to the week, in hopes of beefing up the headline and extracting some needless drama from the potentially epic story of the record.
“It’s really not that meaty,” the guitarist/singer says, absentmindedly plucking tunes on an acoustic guitar. Around the informally furnished living room sit drummer Brandon Sczomak, bassist Brent Mosser and singer/guitarist Ian Rapnicki. McGorey notes “boring, complications” of re-booking studio time, adding in new parts, waiting for contributors and life, school and work. But, also, waiting for the merging of two local labels, (between their original home-label of Suburban Sprawl and Ann Arbor’s Quack!Media), to finally “get settled.”
“It seemed everyone had their releases backed up,” said Sczomak. “Everybody [on SubSprawl, Pop Project, Javelins, Child Bite] had their [albums] done and ready before us – everybody waited for this deal to go through so it wasn’t like, ‘oh let’s put everything out at once.’ And, since we were the new kids on the block at Sub Sprawl…ours was at the end of it…”
“Basically, the headline of the story:” says McGorey, hands raised, “New Kids On The Block!” Which is far from the case as the Word Play have been playing together since 2004, and playing shows for 3 ½ years, numerous times with their label mates as analogous bill mates. It only highlights their self-effacing, easygoing manner, as this quip is followed by a deadpanned admittance to being the most “unorganized band” around town… Later on, Sean Clancey (Child Bite) unfurl his fuzzy self into the room and jokingly nudges – “Your pretty faces are ready for the cover of [Alternative Press!] – play up the pretty factor with you guys…” And soon the group is willing to add Clancey’s suggested lewd commentary regarding women’s under-garments and “the pretty factor” to their “New Kids” headline.
Downplays continue on influences. “No one’s above influence,” says Rapnicki, “musically, as far as what we are listening to, is changing a lot – if your taste is changing, the music you write changes…” And, further downplaying of drama, “There’s never a point where it’s like, ‘Okay…new album! Where we goin with this?’” said Rapnicki, adding that their second full length is almost completely written.
Sczomak, McGorey and Rapnicki (all 23) grew up together, meeting at Plymouth-Canton High School and forming a trio after graduation – which was completed soon (in late 04) by a chance meeting of McGorey and Mosser (26) – a chance facilitated by their respective jobs at rival Jimmy John’s restaurants – adding the bass to their then-developing “post-punk” penchants for propulsive rhythms and dueling guitars. The band agrees Illustrated is an ideal introduction album (though they’d self-recorded an EP in 04) and that now, they’re “starting to define more of a sound for ourselves,” said McGorey.
That sound’s a raw pop (dark-n-dreamy) pushed by declarative guitar roars and spindly fingered spacey melodies dashed over these punchy, guttural beats and driving, wavy bass lines; the arch of splattered indie noise-fuzz glory to “herky-jerky” quasi-danceable hooks to a shining breadth for more softly flown melodies and moving harmonies.
Rapnicki concludes, with his pleasingly cryptic quips, “We’re all over the place…doing our own things, just…doing music! Just doing music things. Just living!”
Up next – writing, more shows and recording in 09, plus Illustrated’s release party at the Woodward Ave. Brewery, 1 / 17.
Fizzy nitroglycerine and rickety tumbling train trucks and laser beams straight outta your fucking eyes and hard-chugged mischievous rampage tones strummed relentlessly with an air of valiant self-destructive exertion. Or, at least that’s the neon laced blood-spurting muscle-bound image that explodes into your mind on Mazinga’s latest EP, Open the Blast Doors. The storied hard-rock/punk band has gone through some member shifts through their years of playing (having started between Ann Arbor and Ypsilanti in the mid 90’s) but realigned and have been playing together steadily since 2003, (currently as Chris “Box” Taylor, Big Tony, Marc McFinn & Al King). They ardently announce their style as “maximum cosmic punk” – which is catchy on its own, but you may as well put commas after each word, because they readily, fully embody the guttural sense of each of those words. It’s the non-stop headbang, the arms-out-propeller-spin across the beer-soaked-sorry-excuse-for-a-dance floor – the clambered rhythms, the spacey psychedelic solos all of it just puts the beast in you and gets you shaking your head and stomping your feet, fills you with that much needed dose of defiance and destruction – but all packaged through a slightly retro-feeling penchant for classic spook punks of the mid 60’s garage days and an undeniable affinity for classic cult comic grime.
Wild Years – Where’d You Go?
Where’d You Go is striking for its candidness, the way “Untitled (Band-Aid)” sort of deconstructs into an abrupt and halting scrape up the strings on the acoustic guitar before singer Alex Itkin nonchalantly sings “and I would never cry…I would never even try…” Culling from a classical singer/songwriter wandering-through-the-world-and-this-is-what-I’ve-seen sort of mid-70’s feel as refracted through the more experimental bends of the late 90’s troubadours of Malkmus or M. Ward - Itkin & Bob Teixeira blend the minimalist-yet-hooky endearment of alternative-space-pop provokers like Neutral Milk Hotel or Elf Power and drapea sunset-swaying neo-country twangover the top, with steady-toe-tapping percussion, poignant strings and intertwining acoustic guitars. Half of the focus is on the frank and unassuming mid-range vocals of Itkin, while the strummed indie-pop balladry picks its way across the reflective star-speckled skies of suburbia – those sort-of resigning, sort-of melodramatic, yet completely relatable lines like “Outside there is no way to go…I’m not coming out, until there is a crowd…out there waiting for me.”
Noman – Broadcast
Local trio Noman explore the history of punk and folk and find their sound somewhere in the middle. They take us back to that glimmer of punk rock’s history – before the dashing eclecticism of late 70’s NY’s experimental “art-punk” and Britain’s then-morphing post-punk style started being overrun by the malicious blitzkrieg of early 80’s hardcore. They pack this delicate intermediary with pop-hinted melodies through raspy rousing vocals that can both inspire and enrage, with all-around-and-all-falling-down drum-styling and bass licks that set a disarming stylized groove that’s distinct to their own blend of grimy folk with pedal-to-the-metal fuzz rock. Just as they root around in the skeleton-stacked closet of punk, this adroit trio (Andrew Beer, Rob Budai, Shayne O'Keefe, aided by bassist Luke Schram) galvanize the intricacies of folk music’s development – through the universal crusade of American folk (and its ties to humanitarian movements) and its melding into that rough smoky British folk (which inevitably had mixings of Celtic style rah-rah-rousing jigs). Take “Morning Song” which opens with a warm but tense acoustic guitar and hurried vocals soon flanked by this building drum roll that eventually bursts into a rhythmic onslaught – or the almost reggae riff opening of “For The Rock Gods” that follows a similar build-and-burst structure that sways on this visceral space-toned guitar wafting in the background before slamming into this cymbal-shambled head-banging chorus. The band cites Against Me! and Dylan as starting points, but you could also throw in the Clash, Ted Leo maybe some latent Pogues and a bit of roots-reggae – but it’s all so amped up, with a distinct explosiveness – captured well on this debut full length on their own label, Woodbridge Records.
Old Empire – Queen City Quandaries(gangplank)
Somewhere along the sun-speckled pavement of the farm-flanked lonely road between towns, the edges of tall-grass neo-country meet the boot-cut denim strutting metropolitian-y millieu of power pop…where easy going swing-ability and let-the-good-times-roll meets pedal-fuzzed left-right-guitar-jabs and sweet rousing choruses that get the head bobbing – and it’d feel at home either in the smoky bar or at the tight-pant’ed-club. It’s a nice, crisp pop record with an Americana ambiance, delivered modestly by an up-and-coming quintet from Detroit who can feel as much gothic-country theatrical as they can singer/songwriter pop-rock – featuring steady-strummed heartfelt balladry and daydreamy boy-girl harmonies. Piano-pounding swing tunes cue up the artsy-indie-rock take on bluegrass (“Track & Field”) and the softly-sung don’t-wake-the-snoozers-in-the-backseat-on-the-road-trip country-flared sonnets (“Reflection”) or the straight-up pop with stylized organs, coaxing vocals and liberating hooks (“Empty Promises”).
Animal Collective are great. Almost everything they’ve ever done is great. This album, particularly, is great.
Heh heh…hmm.
Bleary eyed and shrugging, pacing my adobe slab shack and cursing the slow-rolling internet, that, above, is the 2nd-grader-spat conclusion I’ve collapsed down into…while listening to Merriweather Post Pavlion.
Having kept up with the latest readings of the NY-by-way-of-Baltimore quartet and their 9th proper release, (which drew attention this autumn as it blazed across the drama-soaked blogosphere like a pied-piper-comet, causing Domino records to get pissy about releasing the single “Brother Sport” too early, in November) the messy drama/"preview" was able to grind flakes of chow to the music journos who could get an early start on prepping their favorite buzz words for its January-release. You know, all that preposterous pap like ‘neo-folk’ or ‘psychedelic-revivalism’ or ‘Beach Boys-influenced harmonies’…
Though all of these descriptors are so recycled that they feel empty – they still might give you a root to chew on and hopefully taste the faint sugar that is Animal Collective – forgers of staggering soundscapes and manipulators of fuzzy capriciously bouncing synth melodies and pounders of Afro-pop spinning percussion styles.
~ How many times do we have to hear about the next band’s prematurely leaked album? Or, for that matter, the next band that will reinvent electro-pop? Or, about the next band that reaches an angelic-choir-roaring-epiphany of the “middle ground” combination of the band’s repertoire of style and sound? Y aknow, not too weird or experimental and also not too poppy…but…well, yeah, kinda poppy…? Let us pay more respect to this album – let us not recycle nonsensical genre-phrases – let us not come to grandiose career-spanning conclusions – not for this record. This record is too great! Heh heh…hmm.
This is a dream record. It is a waltz record. It is a drive-around-in-the-winter-time record. It is a take-heart-in-the-glories-of-the-healthy-but-casual-freakout-record. It is a tribute to the guilty glee of seclusion with your significant other. (Seclusive, yes, but not isolationist.) It blurs the lines of reality and dream. (Trippy, yes, but not disorienting.)
Musically, it still has that mystic, earthy feeling (as bloomed through the computer-blips and squishy oozing buzz of synthesizers) characteristic to Animal Collective’s work, with the warm booming bass and exploratory-clackety percussion making it glow with a sacredness that feels born in the heart of the woods, in a sudden clearing soaked in moonlight.
Here, more so than the cartwheel-explosiveness of 05’s Feels or the meditative churn of 07’s Strawberry Jam, the trio focus on steadier , West African-influenced rhythms that often rock-and-sway in either energizing dance inspirations (“Brother Sport”) or steady sunset-back-porch come-downs (“No More Runnin”). In either direction it moves, it ends up pleasing, (not too acerbic or fuzz-fucked) even if the percussion is sparse. Then there’s the euphoric melding of dual-singers (and multi-instrumentalist/diligent experimenters) Avey Tare (Dave Portner) and Panda Bear (Noah Lennox)a mix of loamy moans and wispy ooh-oohs and doo-doos and flitting sunshine-y indie-boy softness that can go to catty falsettos back down to hallowed baritones.
It’s all so dreamy, man.
Some can, and have, argued that these boys aren’t really singing about much – but as they’ve grown out of their outdoorsy experimental sparse stretches into their delicate and deconstructive-freak-folk and now into their timeless and location-less sounding space-choir-art-pop…they’ve opened up considerably – and here, it’s about dreams. “The streets turning for a pillowcase” on the steady-gasping breath-synth sprinklings of ‘In The Flowers’ as downright-Coldplay-recalling piano rounds facilitate longing to enter dreamy-flower-fields with their missed-loved-ones while on tour. Picture this: the opening of ‘Also Frightened’ drips with the found-sounds of a gutter dripping into an alleyway puddle but gets quickly drowned out by rain-sticks, animalistic hoots and bongo-beats – like some kind of cold NY-urban milieu thrown into the blaze of the Sahara, which babbles with dreamy lyrics like “you can’t sweat unless swung by the hen, let them crawl into the logs…” followed by the chorus “will it be just like they’re dreaming? No one should call you a dreamer…”
Then we have an exceptional dance-tune admittedly alienating in its opening bars in it’s weird waving synth gurgle (‘Summertime Clothes’). Here, the narrator's “stripped to my sheets, my bed is a pool and the wall’s on fire” and explores environemtns where even “buildings sleep.” The sentiment of the chorus is, again, of simple love, simple longing…"to walk around with you."
"Daily Routine" opens with this shimmering faux harpsichord synth that builds into a tornado fit over minimalist bass stomps and hand-claps. “Just a sec more in my bed/Hope my machine’s working right…” as they detail the waking up process of getting your day started.
From there, the album falls into what feels like a 3-part movement of slower sways and meditative retreats, “Bluish” is a sparse warbling ode to staying in with your lover, “Guys Eyes” is a somewhat spooky space-out marked by these bass-fills that drunkenly stumble through a piano-echoed-hallway, “Taste” asks through the fuzzy looped synth and Nintendo-rounds “Am I really all the things that are outside of me?”
We pick back up with the outback feeling twang and trot of ‘Lion in a Coma’ (which, again, brings us back to ‘lying’ down for some dreaming) with “this rhythm that's up in my head / this rhythm it needs to get right out of my clothes and get into my bedroom.”
The ceremonial “Brother Sport” gets you moving immediately with a bouncing rhythm that builds under a tumbling sermon from our intertwining vocalists – it never gets too freaky, though the fuzzy noise does start coalescing in a rewardingly visceral manner, leading to the therapeutic sing-along: “You're halfway to fully grown/You've got a real good shot/You've got so much inside/Let it come right out.”
In fact, it should be noted – that chanting, in general, is more persistent on this album than any other Animal Collective release – signifying their true embrace of a more West African/world-music vibe. As the sweet and transfixing “My Girls” chorus goes (as repeated numerous times) “I don't mean to seem like I care about material things like a social status/I just want four walls and adobe slabs for my girls.”
Which is as close as I, (and maybe you) will get to the thesis of Merriweather Post Pavillion – dreams are heavily addressed…but I think it all comes down to simplicity. If we’ve learned anything from the philosophy of pop song lyricists, it’s that both happiness and love – are simple. But, summations of albums – should NOT be simple…so I will not officially conclude that that is precisely what Animal Collective are after, this time around…whose to say? We should leave this album more open and not come back to the same conclusions. It deserves more than that. It’s too fucking great.
Misty Lyn Bergeron sings about a flower, a flower singing a song. “It takes you back a million times, sliding down that dirt till your skin bleeds, across the backdrop of your mind…”
Her lyrics are rapt with vivid sensory sweeps that make you feel the air, be it the warmth of summer’s lull or the compromising chill of oncoming autumn. Her soothing voice, (never wispy, never imposing,) and nostalgic narratives transport you to dreary playgrounds of the past, overcast by a storming mind’s melancholic reflection – she explores nature, she explores time, she explores death – but she is full of life. Her sound, forged by the adroit quartet The Big Beautiful, swells with warm, transfixing tones, sunny swinging guitar hooks over toe-tapping tambourines, and seesawing neo-country inflections wobbled over burning guitar sunrays ready to blaze out from a traditional folk sounding base out into a disarmingly explosive rock girth. It’s much more gothic singer/songwriter than folk or alt/country.
Misty Lyn grew up singing choir in a small Michigan town, maturing in the musical midst of the early 90’s; later on, while studying Kinesiology (“if that tells you how far away from the arts my college experience was!”) at Michigan State University, she found Whiskeytown, Son Volt and Wilco, galvanizing her inspiration to write songs. After graduation she got a guitar, experimented with writing and a few years later started performing. The origins of the Big Beautiful start, first as a duo between Misty Lyn and Ann Arbor multi-instrumentalist/multi-band-contributor Matt Jones. The pair met soon after another A2 folk fixture, Chris Bathgate, “practically shoved me on stage at an Ark open mic nite. [Jones] introduced me to so many songwriters and bands that have been a huge influence on my sound....Elliott Smith, The Decemberists, Nina Nastasia, Gillian Welch.”
Deciding she wanted a full band, she asked her friend Jim Roll (fellow full-plate player and producer) to play bass with Jones taking drums. This trio-portion has been playing together for about 5 years. Carol Gray, on fiddle/tambourine joined 2 ½ years ago, while guitarist/pedal-steel picker Ryan Gimpert’s been playing with them for 2 years.
Her debut LP, “For The Dead,” gets properly released Saturday at the Magic Stick. “It was a trial,” says Misty Lyn, simply, of the unintentionally drawn out, stop-n-start recording process. “It took 3 years. After 2 of them I scrapped almost everything and started over with [Roll]. I learned a lot and became a lot more confident in my abilities as a musician. I loved being surrounded by amazing musicians every week, and being in the studio is inspiring in and of itself. At the end of the 3 years a respected musician from one of my favorite bands told me it has to be "80% fuck it.", and I took his advice. I think he was right. I think in the end it was all worth it. This is a damn good record and I'm proud of it.”
“Every song on the record has to do with a time in my life when it seemed everything was ending. My parents were divorcing. My childhood home was falling apart and being sold. My long-term relationship was ending. My best friend and I hadn't spoken in 2 years. Basically everything I valued was dead or dying, and I was terribly sad for a very long time. I found great therapy in my ability to take a very specific feeling, or picture in my mind, and create a song around it...”
On songwriting, Misty Lyn said, “I've always felt like the songs were 'given' to me. I hear a lot of songwriters talk about how they have a very specific way they want a song to sound, and then they just pound it out...like..."I want to write a bluesy song today in the key of E."...and then they do it. I don't work like that. I'll sit down and something will just come...a line, or a chord progression...and I'll go with it. I'm never shooting for a certain sound or certain structure. The fact of the matter is I'm not a good enough musician to do that! Ha! I've had one word inspire a whole song. Or a paragraph in a book...or a scene from my childhood. Or the mannerisms of a friend.”
The feel of seasons, the smell of the indoors, the pain of heart and wear of the mind – all uniquely captured by her words and facilitated by the emotive sways and churning crescendos of The Big Beautiful.
She said having Ann Arbor as a home-base for writing and performing is “very rewarding. First and foremost, the friendships that have come out of it are priceless. To be around this many people that are this talented and motivated keeps me motivated and constantly reaching for the next level.” She said she didn’t feel that the community drifted one way or another, in terms of genre – rather, it’s simply “a sort of hub that attracts good musicians from around the state. There are so many music lovers here that are willing to take a chance on a new artist or band and encourage their growth. It's that enthusiasm that draws good music to Ann Arbor.”
Misty Lyn looks forward to even more local shows and further development of her current batch of new songs (for summer recording). She’s also planning a side project with Jones. Label support would be nice, but, “we’re going to keep touring and making records, regardless.”
The more I listen to Charlene Kaye’s debut album, the more I think she won’t be staying in Ann Arbor much longer. I don’t mean that in the sense that the 22-year-old classically trained musician will be graduating from the University of Michigan soon, I mean it in the dreamier, grandiose, launch-into-the-big-time sense. I can’t see anyone not enjoying Things I Will Need in the Past — the LP is a sweeping narrative of sunny grooves and meditative sways that details a youthful but wary reflection on the wrenching intricacies of relationships, refracted through preconceptions of time. It's mystic, absurd and elastic.
Things is filled with soothing, singer/songwriter, Sunday-blues balladry, meticulously laid down by the multi-instrumentalist in between classes. She's joined by numerous talented collaborators, all splendidly produced with the integral Jim Roll. Take the heady, theatric dressing-ups of Rufus Wainwright’s baroque-pop, the sly, swing-able, indie-jazz of Feist with Kaye’s own earnest folk-punch and you find her blend of classical poignancy with pop’s whimsy. Kaye plays the Blind Pig on January 15. More: myspace.com/charlenekayemusic.
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