Blog and Pony
PreviousMouth Washington
07/18/2011
Mouth Washington is recording an album with the help of the good folk Ron Harrity at Peapod Recording. Scroll down now to check out the results, or hang out a minute and hear what a I think.
SHORT VERSION: Awesome.
LONG(er) VERSION:
I've been meaning to check these guys out for months (washington). Every time I talk to Max about the project at Bull Moose he has something revelatory and exciting to say. But they always play, you know, regular band schedules which means I can't ever see them because my schedule sucks. Sorry, I won't complain about me any more.
Then, some shifting occurred and I had a Tuesday off. The Tuesday they were playing TWO at Port City Music Hall. I went not really knowing what to expect apart from "probably loud." And it was! But it was also really tight and incredibly engaging.
Charismatic. That's what I'm going to call it. This is the kind of music that's just got that warm feeling to it. You hear it and it literally draws you closer. At least it did for me. By the time the first, punchy strains of their opener were done I had moved from the middle of the room to the front. You want to be near this music and shake its hand. It's BillClintonCore.
There's a lot of energy here. There's a lot of passion and if you go to the FREE DOWNLOAD PAGE you'll see there's a lot of lyrics I'm still processing.
But it's great stuff.
Anyway, go check it out. Seven Children by MOUTH WASHINGTON
D. Gross - We Left The Roadside
09/16/2010
I’m going to go ahead and say that I think Portland’s extremely fortunate to have one of the Country’s best singer/songwriters living and working here.
Dana Gross’ sophomore album We Left The Roadside is some crazy masterpiece. He’s hit a wonderful balance, blending allegory, parable, virtuoso guitar work, deft lyrics and good old American song structures.
We Left The Roadside shows remarkable growth since his first album, Pirates. The album as a whole is tighter and the songs show more restraint and artful use of structure.
The second track, Matchsticks, is - to me, at least - a microcosm of the whole album. The song is damning of The Establishment. You can pick whatever specific you want to throw in there (Government, Society, Media, Bad Relationships). The message is the same: in order for something to be worth, it has to have a strong foundation. “House made of matchsticks / got to tumble down / like everything you ever done / baby maybe come back around.”
Musically, Matchsticks is a wonder for me. I’ve been watching him play this song for something like 2 years and the most I’ve figured out is that it’s relatively simple in structure: basically C, G and F. But I can’t figure out how he manages to get such an incredibly full sound out of his guitar. It doesn’t necessarily sound like more than one guitar but its incredibly well orchestrated. There’s a head-bobbing bass line and a smart hook and ubiquitous harmonic notes. Plus the foot stomping and vocals. All of the incredible sounds really come into play during the one empty pause after he sings “I had a love / soft as snow.” Sometimes you have to take everything away to realize what you’ve got.
It’s hermetic and masterful.
Hand in Hand is a track that sticks with me much longer than I thought it ever would. It has some of the albums most evocative lyrics, I think, but what I keep going over in my head is that bottom-of-the-register bass line. Duane Edwards plays the upright on the album and the sounds coming out of it sound almost like a tuba.
The mood the music builds up is slow and dark, a bit moody after two up-tempo tracks. That’s in juxtaposition with remarkable lyrics about couple-hood. The words border on poetry as he sings “I’ll bring imagination / you can bring the morning’s dew / Sunshine’ll take us higher / And wind’ll carry us through / We’ll be painted ‘cross the nighttime / reflected in the sand / and step together lightly / as we travel hand in hand.” The connection he builds over the course of the song is nearly fantastical.
Hand in Hand, and the album in general, also showcase Dana’s vocals more than Pirates ever did. It’s a smart decision, he’s got a rich and warm voice that’s pleasantly weathered, I think.
Dana plays with Sam James most every 1st and 3rd Thursday at Blue. Sam’s last album had a track called The Water’s Always Changing But The River... Dana’s new album has a track about a river called Roll On...
They have not confirmed whether it’s the same river.
Dana’s ellipsical river song is a lovely piedmont blues song featuring some top notch washboarding from Jason Ingalls who provides the drums for the rest of the album (except for Hummingbird, which we’ll get to in a minute). Roll On... is a delightful leaving song which seems to embrace the Hobo approach to getting out of predicaments. Predicaments likely caused by the singer. It also sounds like it was recorded on a tin can feeding a vinyl scratcher.
Higher Ground and Steady On The Staircase are in constant competition for my favorite tracks. I just love their moody acoustic drone. And like Matchsticks, they’ve got sharp hooks to pull you in. In the boozy dark of Blue, both set heads bobbing and feet stomping among the audience.
Higher Ground gets into the philosophical as a trip up a mountain becomes the escape from a mental prison. And as the trek keeps going, the mountains keep coming. But the search is, perhaps, more important than the destination as Dana intones “We keep on climbing / though we might not arrive / Me, I won’t take it personal / Just glad to be alive.”
Played on Dana’s father’s mother’s banjo, Hummingbird is the most unexpected track on the album. Banjos can be found all across Americana, sure, but rarely, if ever, are they paired up with the table, played by Amos Libby here. The two sounds gel together in a really interesting way: the tapping of the tabla balances out the brightness of the banjo and provides an almost dance floor rhythm. As I listen to the dropping, repeated bass of the drum I can almost hear it blasting out of the Old Port Tavern on some sticky summer night.
Family Man is Dana’s bittersweet country waltz. It’s as wonderful as it is depressing. The lap steel and the gentle strum of Dana’s guitar practically weep as we hear about a man who, for whatever reason, just hasn’t figured out that love is a two way road. He winds up alone and “emptiness rattles his bones in the night.”
The Family Man is a complicated character, too, as he is keenly interested in finding love he just misses his opportunities. From the chorus: “From the womb / to the tomb / through every phase of the moon / well his eyes saw a world of their own / Now the pious they pray / and the kind hearted play / and each one must go their own way”
But the Narrator does comfort, perhaps, for the downtrodden that the chance was there, our protagonist just missed it. Dana sings “Before we turn back to dust / a door opens somewhere along the way.”
Heartbreak never sounded so good.
Knowing the songs in advance, I though Dana would’ve picked Family Man for the closer. Instead he went with One About Sunshine, which wound up being the far superior choice.
It’s delightful, a beautiful way to end the album and just a lovely little song, really.
There’s some sweet fiddlin’ courtesy of Vince Nez, a pleasant walking piano line, country chords and a pleasant verse.
It starts with what sounds like a child’s piano, the guitar comes in, then the bass and fiddle carry us along. And the song itself is one about music and its transformative powers. Powers that Dana captures. “One About Sunshine” feels like a breezy summer day, to me, with clothes on the line. Or sometimes it feels like a dance.
It’s the sort of sweet sentiment about music that’s particular to Americana.
The last time I heard Dana perform it at Blue, he received the most rapt attention of the night. Sam gave it a very nice introduction and you could hear the sounds of the street behind Dana as he crooned in his near falsetto “Maybe, baby, long down the line / I’ll sing for you while your feet keep the time / so if you can please remember / a song in your heart to light you up like an ember / I’ll fan the flames / dance the refrains / tippety tap til you run through my veins / Oh, won’t you sing me a song / don’t wait too long.”
And the guitar fades out and the piano finishes the track and the album.
We Left The Roadside was recorded and mixed by Todd Hutchisen and Marc Bartholomew at Acadia Recording Company and mastered by Ron Harrity at Forest City Studios. The recording is clean and crisp, the mixing sharp. It allows Dana's superlative talent as a songwriter to shine through.
You can - and should - listen to Family Man, Hummingbird, Beggin' and Matchsticks on Dana's website.
We've also got Sky Blue and Steady on the Staircase streaming on our player on the right side of the page.
And, of course, we've done an episode with Dana where you can catch the beginning strains of Hummingbird (less the tabla) and Matchsticks.
And don't forget to pick up We Left The Roadside this Saturday, September 18, at One Longfellow when Dana hosts a release party with Dan Blakeslee and In Flight Safety.
Posted by Krister
September brings new music
09/01/2010
dilly dilly posted the above video last night. According to the youtube page, she won't be doing a whole lot more with it because she feels like it's bitten from something.
HOWEVER, that doesn't change that it's still pretty awesome. It has the exact acoustic moodiness I love.
PLUS, Spose has been having fun with Cee-Lo's awesome "Fuck You." It's worth checking out his version of it.
He's got some dextrous pipes. Raps a mile a minute over that soulful hook. Waxes introspective about how much a year can change things. It's good times!
Spose says on his facebook page that it'll be on the forthcoming mixtape "We Smoked It All Volume 2" due out October 1st.
Brenda - Silver Tower
08/18/2010
Brenda’s Silver Tower is
Sweetly poppy. The songs blend harmony and driving beats. Energetic strumming and dreamlike singing. It calls to mind images of diners, shakes, malts. Driving in cherry cars with no tops. Circuses. Roller skating.
But there’s a certain distortion to it, a certain twistedness. The sugary wholesome pop energy is burnt on the edges, carmelized. It’s rough.
Silver Tower is a top-down summer album. Crank it while cruising along some wooded state route. The album opens on State Lines, the ideal song for shifting into high gear as you hug some twisting road and blast through a curve lit only by your headlights. Stomp down the gas as the song hits that wild instrumental break at the end.
12 hours later you’ll need Intro, though, as your car muscles at top speed over some open, sun-baked landscape. The roads are straighter as the song pounds along with the RPMs. This is music to outrun a police pursuit to. This is the music of adrenaline and white knuckles, ground teeth and relentless bright fun. It’s an unstoppable pop energy.
Blackout is the song you were listening to when you did whatever it is the police want you for. It’s raucous and wild. It’s sweaty and drunk and feels like the sorta thing that you’ll wake up hungover from - but in a joyous way. One of those hangovers that you don’t even mind because you know you earned it. Blackout happily bounces back and forth with dynamic range. The chorus a bouncy fun burn that snaps into an infinitely danceable chorus. It’s driven by Peet Chamberlain’s rubbery bass and DJ Moore’s snappy beats. Carried over that, Josh Loring plays a sparse guitar through some reedy amp.
I’m probably going to dwell on Blackout too long, but I feel it’s a good microcosm of the album. It’s bouncy, fun and distorted. It punches hard and fast and it’s over and you want more. Brenda’s tracks are like crack: they’re short and addictive and the most fun you’ve ever had while you’re listening. And immediately after you want your next hit.
Blackout and Pill Hill do this thing that I really love. The power along and hit this sea shift a little over halfway into the song. It’s like a bridge that just takes you to the end of the song. Or a second movement, I suppose. In the moment it’s all organic but sitting here and jumping 30 seconds back and forth on iTunes it’s remarkable to me that the songs blend so well.
Also: While Blackout is the quintessential drunk song on the album, Pill Hill is druggier. It’s beat is darker and more twisted and the breakdown has this floaty melody over a circular drum beat that’s just mesmerizing.
Let’s talk about Delegator for a moment. It’s perfect for illustrating the powers of a tight three-piece. It starts out sparse and lean, moved primarily by Moore’s drumming and Loring’s singing. And then the bass and guitar kick in full time and suddenly you could make a meal of the song, cut out some substantial bites from it.
Now let’s get to my two favorites.
Ghandi has this wonderful 50s dancehall vibe to it but brings an edge of distortion that’s pretty delightful. It feels like it might be the headlining song for some High School Dance with an Undersea theme. And I love the wordless chorus that hits so hard after the floatier verses.
When I started listening to the album, I didn’t have the context that a lot of listeners did. I am not familiar with Pavement and Guided By Voices, so I couldn’t connect any lines between those bands and Brenda. In fact, it left me pretty stymied. I really enjoyed all the sweet pop fun of Silver Tower but I didn’t really have the vocabulary to contextualize it.
So I wrote to the label.
Graeme K. of Mckeenstreet Music says “The riff in Ghandi, and the verses, take more from Buddy Holly and the Danleers than they do Sonic Youth. Songs like Retina and I’d Be Dead along with Ghandi, sound more at home in the context of a 1959 barn dance, in a way, than they do in the context of 1990s indie rock.”
Which brings me to the other standout for me, Retina. I love a good drone, so I was hooked from that Chamberlain’s cheap Casio tone off the start. But Moore’s drums kick up through the miasmic drone of the organ and Loring’s guitar give you a shore to sit on at the edge of the sea of keyboards.
The chorus is the best on the album, I think, for highlighting Brenda’s finely tuned melodic sensibilities. They stretch words out over a delightful, hooky, rising tune.
It’s just a lovely song for a sunset boatride.
And it has heaviness to it, it’s not just some weakwristed track that’s out of place on an album of balls to the wall energy. There’s an impressive breakdown with wild drums and a throbbing bass line that hooks on just the perfect pregnant note.
It’s delightful.
Silver Tower isn’t perfect. I think the drums, especially, could use a little higher production. They sometimes sound lost or too thin.
But if you’re looking for a wildly poppy, fun and twisted way to spend your summer, put Silver Tower on, turn up the volume and let it carry you through. And when the last wavering chord of I’d Be Dead is cut, hit play and do it again.
Posted by Krister
Naw Capella
07/05/2010
Eminent Portland Hip-Hop Queen Sontiago's talents go well beyond spittin'. Her acapella version of Samuel James' Wooden Tombstone was a show stopper at his epic release party. Now, out of the same field comes this no-longer acapella song Like Love.
It's a collaboration between Sontiago and Darien Brahms. Feature's Sontiago's lyrics, vox and Xylophone; Brahms' instrumentation and Ric Loyd's drumming.
Sontiago says Brahms approached her after hearing it acapella and asked to get involved. And the collaboration really speaks to the inspiration she must've felt when she first heard it. It really builds into something incredibly cool.
The track speaks not only to Sontiago's concrete lyricism and excellent voice, but to the ineffable "it" that some artists have. To be able to hear a song once and develop such a clear vision for it.
Anyway, it's totally worth checking out.
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