I’ve recently taken up square dancing, and, while Brooks & Dunn‘s Boot Scootin’ Boogie hasn’t been on during class (yet), it invariably serves as my internal soundtrack.
Also, check out that hair and . . . well, pretty everything happening in this video. The ’90s, it was a time, y’all.
Shortly after 9/11, a friend of mine heard a drag queen perform Cathedrals by Jump, Little Children at an open mic night in New York. Her retelling of the scene was so vivid that ever since then, I have associated the song with the aftermath of that day, as well as the message I saw scrawled on a dusty car in Lower Manhattan: You can knock us down, but you can’t knock us out.
Our hearts and thoughts are with you, Paris, and Beirut, and all the places where terrible people have done such awful things.
Trick Mist is Gavin Murray, Irishman residing in Manchester, England. Jars in Rows is his debut EP, and it’s an unusual but awesome fusion of electronica/experimental noise and traditional Irish sounds.
Here are some examples:
Tampering Happy, was made with a violin he found in a trashcan he found outside his apartment – in pristine condition! – which is – ok, bear with me here – a bit like a sea shanty, deconstructed and filtered through a film noir lens.
Your Brass Angel is a spare, delicate, tune, shot through with steady shimmery tones, balanced by clacks and pings and the solid basso of his voice. It’s hard to describe, other than to say I really enjoyed sitting in his tiny oddly decorated Buckyball of sound.
AF THE NAYSAYER is one of my favorite beatmakers, and he’s back again with a new tune. R-96 is a collaboration with Shizuku Kawahara of tinörks. It’s a rollercoaster, but a very chill one.
Check it out:
Also, special alert to our Southern readers, he’s helping Step Pepper Records celebrate their 5th birthday tomorrow (Saturday, Nov. 14) in Birmingham, AL, so get out and join the party if you can.
Dad would have been 74 today. Johnny Cash was one of his favorite singers, by himself and with others. I picked this one to play for him today because both June and Johnny are in such fine form, clearly enjoying themselves and the song. Happy Birthday, Daddy. Miss you.
This is the title track for Emmylou Harris and Rodney Crowell‘s most recent joint effort, The Traveling Kind. I had been listening to it somewhat obsessively just before I left New York – as anthem, as inspiration, as comfort, as reminder that I am the traveling kind – and a couple days ago, after a particularly long day, it popped up on shuffle while I was in the car, as if the universe wanted to remind me I really did take the right path.
And if I needed that reminder, maybe some of you fellow travelers do too. So here it is. Enjoy, darlings.
Two, the second record from Eskimo Brothers, is one of life’s small, uncomplicated pleasures.
A rockabilly pleasure, specifically, songs about hard drinkin’ and hard lovin’ shot through with the steady thrum of the upright bass and hip-shaker guitars.
For example: Sweethearts and Bars, which, well, it’s exactly what it says on the tin:
Another one I like: A Lie Called Love, for all the cynical romantics out there:
And then finally there’s the occasional cross-genre reinterpretation of a classic, by which I mean their version of Fat Bottom Girls filled me with rude glee:
So the first thing I have to tell you is before my first listen to Screaming Colors I misread “Violet Days” as “Violent Days” and was expecting something a lot meaner and thrashier.
That said, once I had clicked play, I was surprised, but not disappointed. Lina Hansson has a beautiful voice and they collectively have a solid grasp of how to build a pop song.
Here’s Screaming Colors, to help you grab your Monday by the throat:
And So Dope, which is for anyone who has had a relationship that was awesome, until it was terrible, to which you would return any time:
Painting by Andrew Alba
Among the many benefits of being subscribed to Warren Ellis‘ newsletter is that sometimes he includes a music section.
It was there, this week, that I found botched communion, by braeyden jae, and on listening to it, wanted to share it with y’all.
There are only two songs. Closed Visions features soothing church-organ and church bells as a background to guitars so fuzzed out they almost sound like chainsaws; this song goes on for 10 full minutes and is awesome.
Cannot Reach has slightly brighter, cleaner tones winding through the buzzsaws, and is also delightful.
There are certain metaphors I abuse. Most of them are nautical. One is lepidopterological: I tend to think of musicians in the studio as caterpillars in a chrysalis, or, more accurately, in a cocoon. And fans as the tenders of these cocoons, sitting outside, waiting for a sparkly wing to emerge.
David C. Clements has been in a cocoon for a very long time, and yesterday, a delicate wing popped out: My Dear Mother, his first EP in two years.
Four songs, two new (My Dear Mother, When We Go), one alternate version of an earlier tune (On The Border), one interpretation of a Neil Young tune (Philadelphia), all collectively a teaser for a record coming early next year.
The whole thing is awesome – the new/old version of On the Border is slower, but more expansive; there’s some muscle to it, now – but here are the two new ones:
My Dear Mother, the title track, and an excellent introduction to his style, i.e. catchy shuffle-sway beat, sing-along chorus, lyrics that will tear at you. (Front rows of Norther Ireland: if you aren’t dancing to this, I’m giving you some serious squinch-face.)
When We Go, which shows off his range and flexible voice. Apparently this one is a fan favorite, and well, I can see why, because I also love it when he cuts loose and goes for it:
