Release date: April 30th Record label: GBV, Inc. Genre: Power pop, post-punk Formats: Vinyl, CD, digital Pull track: How Can a Plumb Be Perfected?
When Guided by Voices announced a new album made up of “rejected songs” at the beginning of this year, I thought it was destined to go down as a minor release in their heady catalog, with that description handing an indie rock world drowning in Robert Pollard-led records an excuse to let one slip by and take a breath. For whatever reason, however, Earth Man Blues has been a relative hit, earning the “best album in decades” moniker from Rolling Stone and even inspiring Pitchfork to begrudgingly give it a 6.8 just like we’re all back in 2012. As someone who had two Guided by Voices records on my 2020 year-end list and would’ve put the third one on there had it not come out in mid-December, I was happy for them to be getting the press, albeit with a healthy degree of skepticism regarding the fanfare. Is Earth Man Blues truly the best of the band’s “new lineup” (which has put out ten albums in the half-decade since its formation) or is the music world just playing catch-up to Pollard and company’s breakneck pace, trying to make up for not properly appreciating the charms of the likes of Surrender Your Poppy Field and Styles We Paid For? Well, I don’t know, but I’d rather talk about the music itself than the reaction to it, so…
Pollard has presented Earth Man Blues as a cohesive rock opera of sorts, which would seem to contradict the “collage of rejected songs” description, but given that Pollard values the narrative power of sequencing and has been known to re-write lyrics to older songs, it’s not impossible. I won’t pretend to say I’ve been able to pick a throughline—the pieces of evidence in favor of Earth Man Blues as rock opera are the many illusions to childhood and schooling (including the reference to Pollard’s childhood elementary school on the record’s cover) and that the band sounds a lot like The Who, but they aren’t overly convincing, because both of these happen on all the “normal” Guided by Voices albums, too. Still, there are moments like the back-to-back 70-second sugar rush of “Margaret Middle School” and one of the band’s best ever Tommy moments in “I Bet Hippy” where Pollard is clearly reaching for an overarching story, and it works as a catalyst for an exciting run of songs if nothing else.
The album has a looseness to it that reminds me of my favorite of the recent Guided by Voices albums, August by Cake, but while that record’s grab-bag quality was a matter of circumstance (the transitioning of GBV from a Pollard solo endeavor to a full-band affair once again, plus the other members contributing songwriting), Earth Man Blues earns its dexterity by being the product of a band that’s only grown more comfortable and in tune with each other. They don’t need to stretch every Pollard idea into a three-minute plodder—opener “Made Man” and the aforementioned “Margaret Middle School” make their points and sink their hooks in quickly and effectively. This isn’t a short song “gimmick” album like Warp and Woof, however—the nearly six-minute “Lights Out in Memphis (Egypt)” stops and starts through one of the band’s longest runtimes ever, and feels like another step forward for the group.
Hidden near the end of Earth Man Blues, the half-demo quality of the chill-inducing “How Can a Plumb Be Perfected?”, captures the magic of spare poetic Pollard like “Learning to Hunt” and “Kiss Only the Important Ones” have in the past, but it’s updated musically with tasteful flourishes from the band. Similarly digging through Pollard’s past is “Sunshine Girl Hello”, which starts with a cut-and-pasted intro that sounds like someone scanning through stations on Alien Lanes, but the strutting power pop gem hidden between the bouts of electromagnetic interference sounds ripped not from that era of Guided by Voices but from Pollard’s late 2000s band, Boston Spaceships. One mark of this lineup’s records has been left-field album closers, and Earth Man Blues doesn’t disappoint with “Child’s Play”. The song starts off as a fairly mid-tempo Isolation Drills GBV-era rocker before guitarist Doug Gillard wrests control of the song’s entire second half to lay down a blistering solo, its prominence a rarity despite the band’s classic and hard rock influences.
In the time between me starting this review and finishing it, Guided by Voices announced the debut LP of their side project with the same lineup, Cub Scout Bowling Pins, which debuted in January with the great Heaven Beats Iowa EP. I know people who swear that Heaven Beats Iowa, with its lo-fi bubblegum pop charms, is Pollard’s Best Work in Decades, and when the full record comes out I’m sure it’ll spur the same kind of hyperbole. Just like how Earth Man Blues is Rolling Stone’s Best Pollard Album in Decades, and how August by Cake is my personal Best Pollard Album in Decades. I don’t begrudge the music press or fans of the band for talking about Guided by Voices this way—after making over thirty albums just with his main band and over a hundred in total, how do you compare Robert Pollard’s records to anything but the entire universe of music in which it resides? That these later-career records keep inspiring such language, however, suggests larger forces at work here than a band occasionally hitting the highs of its “heyday”. And while it’s fun to play the “what if this was the debut from a new buzz-band instead of the third Guided by Voices album in the past 12 months” game, it doesn’t work because nobody else could’ve made Earth Man Blues. It’s another Guided by Voices album, and a pretty damn good one too. (Bandcamp link)
Welcome to a special early-in-the-week edition of Pressing Concerns! Since we last spoke, a piece that I contributed to went up on the great Osmosis Tones blog. Zach Zollo (Mr. Tones himself) and I discuss a few bands we both think deserve more attention—in this issue, we discussed The Cleaners from Venus, Pere Ubu, Brainiac, and The Flaming Lips. I think there’s a lot of insightful commentary on these bands in the article (mostly from Zach but I do what I can) and if you enjoy Rosy Overdrive you should add it to your reading list. It’s a two-parter, and the second part goes up later this week.
Also going up later this week, assuming I have my shit together, is another Pressing Concerns. I have a lot of new music I want to talk about! Almost too much of it! And, hopefully, the next playlist post will go up sometime in the first half of May. In the meantime, peruse older Pressing Concerns posts for more new music.
Ross Ingram – Sell the Tape Machine
Release date: May 3rd Record label: Hogar Genre: Folk-tronica Formats: Vinyl, CD, digital Pull track: Marionette
Ross Ingram plays in the El Paso shoegaze band EEP and runs Brainville Recording Studio, where he frequently produces and engineers records for other bands. Sell the Tape Machine, partially recorded at Brainville, is Ingram’s debut solo full length, and it’s hard not to pick up on subtle sonic flourishes throughout the album and attribute it to his studio background. Even if he has more experience and notoriety as a producer, however, Sell the Tape Machine has a surprisingly songwriting-forward approach, with Ingram’s vocals and lyrics coming through crystal-clear at center stage. It’s clearly a deftly-crafted record, but Sell the Tape Machine treats this as a tool for the songs, rather than the entire point of the album. Early on in the record, “Home” is anchored by a strummed acoustic guitar and folk-rock instrumentation with with synth accents, whereas the synths and drum machines in the Postal Service-esque closer “Ashes” drive the entire song, but neither end of this spectrum feels incongruous with the other, because neither overwhelms Ingram. The most Ingram obscures himself on Sell the Tape Machine is on the hypnotic early highlight “Come Sunlight”, which glides along like something from Flotation Toy Warning and has a fogginess that services lyrics about the passage of time and how disorienting it can be these days.
Although a lot of the album is slower-paced and contemplative, Sell the Tape Machine musters up some bite with the one-two punch of “Oh You’re So Silent Now” and “Marionette” towards the middle of the LP. The panicked “Oh You’re So Silent Now” finds Ingram insisting “I’m still here” all the way to an unresolved conclusion, repeating it almost like a mantra. This frantic repetition continues with “Marionette”, with Ingram thundering “I am no cause, I’m no effect / This too shall pass, right through us” for the majority of the song’s length, his strained vocals reminiscent of the earlier, angrier work of fellow producer-songwriter John Vanderslice. Sell the Tape Machine cools off a bit after that with the dreamy “So Stay” and the sweet “I Like Having You Here”, both of which take the album back from the brink explored by its middle section. Ingram refuses to let the album float off quietly, however, by ending it with a peppy but morbid reckoning with death in “Ashes”.
Lyrically, Sell the Tape Machine is all over the place, as Ingram maps his own internal ups and downs. Sometimes, the highs and lows come in the same track, like in the internal fight song of “Marionette”. Sell the Tape Machine begins with a song (the title track) where Ingram considers giving up on making music, fantasizing about getting a boring office job or going back to school. Obviously, we know Ingram hasn’t sold his recording equipment, and in “Bookshelves”, near the end of the album, Ingram vows to continue to create music: “I’ll fill our home with warm sounds / Songs I’ll write for no one else”. But even then, he sounds far from as confident as his rising vocals would suggest (He follows this declaration with “And if you have your doubts, please don’t say it aloud”). Ingram opens “I Like Having You Here” by singing, “For the first time in years, I think I may have everything figured out”, and it feels so impactful because he spends so much of Sell the Tape Machine not having it figured out. People like to write about autobiographical music as “diary entries”, but of course, this isn’t entirely true. Some lyrics may start out that way, of course, but so much work happens between this point and the moment that you or I hear a finished product. What’s impressive about Sell the Tape Machine isn’t just that it’s “confessional” songwriting, but that Ingram builds something around this foundation that enhances these initiating emotions. He’s figured out how to convey not having it figured out. (Bandcamp link)
Jacober – Light Years
Release date: May 7th Record label: Crafted Sounds Genre: marimba-space-lounge-pop Formats: Vinyl, cassette, CD, digital Pull track: Once I Was
Although I hadn’t heard of David Jacober before his latest album was announced, it turned out that I had heard his music before. He also has recorded with the likes of Dan Deacon, Future Islands, and Ed Schrader’s Music Beat, but my familiarity lies with his work as the drummer for the quite good Baltimore noise rock band Dope Body. On his own, however, Jacober makes songs that sound, well, light years from that band’s post-hardcore bent. Light Years (the album) is marked by Jacober’s marimba playing, which features prominently on every song. Although this instrument’s use in indie rock might conjure up formless, long post-rock passages a la Tortoise (or even some of Jacober’s earlier work), most of Light Years’ songs are concise and structured, despite the non-traditional choice of lead instrument. It’s not as large a leap as one might think: the marimbas here don’t exactly stand out starkly the way they did on, say, that one Moonface album, but rather they form part of a woozy, psychedelic wall of sonic sound that includes more traditionally “rock-band” parts, synths, and Jacober’s hypnotic vocals.
As its title hints at, Light Years finds Jacober preoccupied with the concept of time. On the propulsive title track, it sounds like Jacober is the one that’s traveling across distance and time, admitting, “We don’t wanna fear the future, but we can’t help feeling alarmed”. Later on, “Time” finds him at peace with this force he can’t control: “Time moves so fast and we’re so slow / But all the highlights find the daylight, always worth the while”. “Like Stone” features guitar from Infinity Knives that makes it perhaps the most “rock” song on the album, but it doesn’t pivot to rock music so much as swallow it up and add it to the sounds already found on Light Years. Album closer “One Thing” similarly finds new ways to expand Light Years’ musical reach, and in this case it’s trombone and saxophone (from Sarah Manley and Matthew Pierce) and prominent female vocals (from Allison Clendaniel) that join Jacober and his marimba. “One Thing” is a gorgeous love song that ends the album on a high note, celebrating grabbing these moments (and the people at the center of them) when they come and truly appreciating them. (Bandcamp link)
Oblivion Orchestra – Scene to Scene
Release date: May 7th Record label: Self-released Genre: Orchestral indie folk Formats: Vinyl, digital Pull track: High/Low
Oblivion Orchestra is the solo project of New York’s Josh Allen. Allen plays every instrument on the project’s first album, Scene to Scene, which in this case means his voice, a guitar, and cello. Downer folk music from New York prominently featuring a cello would seem to invite Arthur Russell comparisons, and while I think fans of Russell’s music will find much to like in Scene to Scene, Allen’s cello playing is rarely as clear and sparse as Russell’s signature sound. The cello tracks on Scene to Scene have been meticulously layered upon each other (sometimes up to twenty layers, according to Allen), run through reverb, edited—tricks from Allen’s time as a film composer, apparently. While recognizable cello still features prominently on Scene to Scene, just as frequently the instruments pile up and the songs lapse into something else entirely: the Oblivion Orchestra.
This isn’t to say that all of Scene to Scene is a cacophony; just that Allen has a handle on when to dial the noise up or tone it down. “Lay You Down” is positively calming, with the cello forming a warm drone over which Allen convincingly sings the titular line over and over. The gorgeous opener “High / Low” is Allen’s strongest vocal turn as he floats over the orchestra, while on the other end of the spectrum is the sparse, haunting “Let You Down”, where Allen accompanies himself mainly just by knocking on the cello to turn it into a percussive instrument. Allen’s lyrics also seem to communicate with and acknowledge what’s going on beneath them. “In the middle of a sky blue / Yesterday’s clouds come rolling on through”, he sings in “Middle of the Night”, mirroring the ebb and flow of the cello tracks over Allen’s voice and guitar. The loosely-defined genre of “indie folk” in 2021 often uses traditional instrumentation as an excuse for dull songwriting and boring production, to the point where it’s tempting to reduce it to a creatively bankrupt brand of background muzak. Scene to Scene, which evokes the cinema soundtracks in which Allen is versed yet still grabs one’s full attention on its own, is a breath of fresh air. (Bandcamp link)
Birthday Ass – Head of the Household
Release date: April 23rd Record label: Ramp Local Genre: Post-punk, no wave, jazz-rock Formats: Vinyl, digital Pull track: Jello
Brooklyn/Boston’s Birthday Ass (yeah, I know) make wildly adventurous, jazz-rock music featuring a horn section and the equally wild vocals of bandleader Priya Carlberg. Their second album, Head of the Household, is a kinetic and chaotic affair that’s certainly informed by their New England Conservatory background, but both Carlberg’s vocals and the twists and turns of the band give the album a playful, and not infrequently pop-tuneful, vibe. Birthday Ass come off as a jazzier, bigger-band version of Editrix, another New England band with a music school background, or Squitch, who I seem to keep finding ways to bring up on Rosy Overdrive. “Blah” sets the tone for Head of the Household early on with music that starts, stops, and writhes around, as well as a spectacular motor-mouth vocal from Carlberg that evolves into a full-scale breakdown before the song runs its course. “Jello” holds itself together for the most part, the band playing melodically enough to turn the lyric “Oozing sugary glue, I can’t even conquer you” and Alex Quinn’s trumpet into hooks.
Carlberg’s interpretation of being “head of the household” seems to involve a lot of 1950s cuisine, which feature heavily in songs like “Jello” and “Broccoli Face”, among others. Key track “Spiced Twice” even mentions “cooking in the kitchen” and the seasoning to which the title alludes. While Birthday Ass’s twisted, skronky version of American nostalgia is in step with the ghosts of no wave bands past, this specific Cold War-era fixation reminds me of David Thomas’ brand of writing. Also Pere Ubu-esque are Carlberg’s vocal interjections—like how she wrings the maximum impact out of “blahs” in the opening track, or the almost-but-not-quite-nonsense of “Plubbage Blubbage”, or basically the entire second half of “Sunlit Toes”. All of these contributions work very much in tandem with the music; as much as they might sound “tossed off” or “random”, I’m sure a lot of work went into making these songs come off in such a way. There isn’t a dull moment on Head of the Household, and if you can learn to accept the Birthday Ass way of looking at the world, it can be quite rewarding. (Bandcamp link)
Pressing Concerns is back! Today I’m talking about new EPs by Olivia’s World, Dazy, and Expert Timing, the new old Ratboys album, and the latest from Squill. Not much in terms of housekeeping this time around, except to say that there may not be anything new on Rosy Overdrive next week, but several new posts are in development/planning. In the meantime, you can browse older editions of Pressing Concerns for more good music.
Olivia’s World – Tuff 2B Tender
Release date: April 23rd Record label: Lost Sound Tapes Genre: Twee pop Formats: Cassette, digital Pull track: Social Seagull (Ode to Friend)
Alice Rezende started Olivia’s World while living in the Pacific Northwest, recruited Rose Melberg (of Olympia’s Tiger Trap and The Softies, among other bands) to drum on the band’s first release, and has released everything under the name on Seattle’s DIY Lost Sound Tapes cassette label. Everything about the project screams “K Records-influenced twee pop”—right down to the childhood escapism of the band’s name and the amusing spelling choices in the title of their latest EP, Tuff 2B Tender. The second release by the now-Queensland-based band doesn’t just stick to the guileless indie pop that many modern twee-indebted acts hew to, however—Rezende’s songwriting seems to be bursting with big ideas, and Olivia’s World goes big musically to back them up. Now a four-piece, the band paints Tuff 2B Tender with a layered, full-band sound that evokes both the heavier end of 90s Seattle/Olympia indie rock and their stated influence of Exploding in Sound Records. That is, the EP’s five songs can do both “tuff” and “tender”.
Lead single and EP opener “Debutante” features a striking, classically twee vocal from Rezende, but the rest of the band clamors for the listener’s attention as well—by the three-minute mark, the song becomes a wall of sound, featuring cascading guitars from Tina Agic, ringing piano, a tight rhythm section, and full-on vocal harmonies. The band stomps through the majority of “Hell-Bent”, serving as a platform for Rezende’s stream of consciousness, half-sung, half-spoken lyrics. “What’s the point in being kind to a people that are never kind to you?” she asks, in what I assume is a swipe at those who weaponize “politeness” for personal gain—before she repurposes an entire verse of “Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)” for the bridge. “Hell-Bent” also sports Tuff 2B Tender’s tightest chorus, with the titular line sounding ripped straight from mid-90s Kill Rock Stars. “Social Seagull (Ode to Friend)” is perhaps the sweetest (dare I say—tenderest) moment on the EP, a bouncy pop song about, well, what its title suggests. Tuff 2B Tender ends with the pastoral fantasy of “Grassland”, which, like the band’s name, seeks comfort and strength in discovering and inventing new worlds. “Grassland” contributes to a sense of restlessness from Olivia’s World, a band that has already made several sonic strides and planted flags on two continents over its brief length. Alice Rezende’s journey with Olivia’s World is already an enjoyable one for the listener to follow, and hopefully it is only getting started. (Bandcamp link)
Ratboys – Happy Birthday, Ratboy
Release date: April 1st Record label: Topshelf Genre: Post-country flavored indie rock Formats: Vinyl, CD, digital Pull track: Collected
While Happy Birthday, Ratboy was released as a surprise at the beginning of this month, the songs featured on the record should be familiar to fans of the now-Chicago-based band. The majority of the album is made up re-recorded versions of Ratboys’ earliest-written songs: its first five tracks originally came out on the first-ever Ratboys release, the Bandcamp-exclusive RATBOY EP—the tenth anniversary of which is the occasion for the birthday celebration. The Ratboys of the RATBOY EP were the duo of founding members and Notre Dame students Julia Steiner and Dave Sagan, and the original RATBOY was a scrappy home- and dorm-room-recorded collection of songs that prominently featured Steiner’s ukulele playing. Ten years, two additional members, and three albums later, these tracks have been quite transformed for Happy Birthday, Ratboy. Their translation of folk-rocking opener “The Stanza” to the full four-piece band feels natural and automatic (I’ve definitely seen Ratboys play it live before, which probably helped), while the lazy mood of “Intense Judgment” belies its stealthily complex arrangements. The feedback at the end of “at 39 is annie the oldest cat?” becomes a full-blown post-rock instrumental to end side one—and why not? It works.
The second half of the album, featuring songs written around the same time as RATBOY but which never even got the humble Bandcamp release of the first five, is even more exciting. The sub-two minute “Space Blows” (another one I’m pretty sure I’ve heard them play) is one of the best examples of the band at its full force. “Collected” qualifies as such, too—and it represents a sort of lyrical leveling-up moment for Steiner, who wrote the song for a “Gender and Rock n Roll” course in college. The record ends with one sole “new” song, “Go Outside”, and its breezy country-folk instrumental and sweet, simple lyrics underscore just how deeply weird these old Ratboys songs are. Happy Birthday, Ratboy features all sorts of musical left-turns and plenty of fascinating head-scratchers for lyrics. Whether it’s because these songs originated from a band still congealing as musicians, writers, and collaborators, or because the band playing these songs now is so different from the one that wrote them, or some combination of the two, it’s hard to think of an album that sounds exactly like Happy Birthday, Ratboy. It all amounts to one of the top-two best surprise-release albums featuring reimagined songs from earlier in a band or artist’s career this month. Happy birthday, Ratboys—here’s to ten more. (Bandcamp link)
Dazy – Revolving Door & The Crowded Mind
Release date: January 22nd/April 2nd Record label: Very Loud Genre: Power pop, fuzz rock Formats: Digital Pull track: Weatherman Got It Wrong / See the Bottom
Dazy is the solo project of Richmond musician James Goodson (also of Teen Death and Bashful). Goodson’s been putting out one-off singles under the name since last year, but in 2021 Dazy seem to have higher ambitions. The three-song, six-minute Revolving Door EP turned up in January, and earlier this month Dazy released its fullest collection of songs yet—The Crowded Mind features eight entire tracks and crosses the 15-minute barrier. The Dazy of these EPs is pretty clearly a one-person operation: Goodson, accompanied by what sounds like a drum machine, lays down short, sweet, revved up power pop songs underneath a healthy amount of distortion. The nature of Dazy’s production and some surface-level sonic similarities might lead one to compare it to the likes of Wavves and other shitgaze/turn of the decade lo-fi pop rock acts. The fuzz never overwhelms the pop hooks, however, and Goodson does appear to be drawing from a wider net of influences with these songs.
In addition to playing in his handful of bands, Goodson also co-hosts a Green Day podcast. I do detect some Billie Joe Armstrong inflection in Dazy’s vocals, particularly in the music’s more measured moments—like the verses to “Revolving Door” and “Crowded Mind (Lemon Lime)”. He’s got that Armstrong-esque lazy-yet emotive style. I also read Jesus and Mary Chain comps when looking these Dazy EPs up, and I hear it, but it’s funny to me for the two big points of comparison to be one band who made their brand looking effortlessly cool to all, and another who have (although this is changing of late) long been unfashionable with the indie crowd. Guess it goes to show how arbitrary the marching of time makes everything! But I will say, tangentially to the JAMC thing, that there is a bit of a garage rock Madchester/Creation Records vibe going on with “Right as Rain”, helped in large part by that aforementioned drum machine. Along with the shotgun ballad “Don’t Leave Me on the Line”, it’s one of the stretch-out moments that The Crowded Mind’s (relatively!) expanded length affords it. These suggest that Dazy is more than just a one-trick pony, although I’m far from bored with the project’s main trick as of press time. (Bandcamp link 1) (Bandcamp link 2)
Expert Timing – Live in Stereo
Release date: April 2nd Record label: Count Your Lucky Stars Genre: Pop punk, power pop Formats: Digital Pull track: Cement
As they await the chance to play in front of people again, Orlando’s Expert Timing have offered up a live-in-studio EP to helpfully remind us all what live music sounds like. Live in Stereo features four songs recorded at Bethlehem, Pennsylvania’s Shards Recording Studio in 2019, plus a bonus cover song. As far as stopgap releases go, Live in Stereo is a blast, with the live setting providing a nice showcase for the beefier end of Expert Timing’s self-described “bubble-grunge power pop”. Co-vocalists Jeff (also playing guitar) and Katrina (also playing bass) Snyder switch off so effortlessly you’d almost think they were married or something (turns out they are! Guess the same last name should’ve given that away). Jeff S.’s vocals remind me of another Jeff—Rosenstock, that is—particularly on his biggest showcase, the anxious “Cement”. Katrina and drummer Gibran Colbert’s rhythm section, meanwhile, propel these songs into something even more rock-solid. The band’s power trio setup combined with plenty of hooks reminds me of the poppier moments from Superchunk, and I also found myself thinking of Portland’s Heatmiser (most famous for being Elliott Smith’s pre-fame band) in the fuzzy, pissed-off hooks of “Cement” and the dark “Classic Case of Narcissism”.
Most of the songs are taken from Expert Timing’s sole full-length album, 2018’s Glare—these recordings predate their newest release, last year’s Whichever, Whenever EP, so nothing from that one turns up. The last live cut is the only one from their debut EP, Selective Hearing—but it’s no slouch, as “Sleep” is one of their finest moments as a band. The EP ends with the only song not taken from the Shards sessions: a faithful cover of The Format’s “Wait, Wait, Wait” that, along with Worriers’ version of “Rollercoaster” by Bleachers, will perhaps begin a micro-trend of indie-pop-punk bands covering songs by the members of fun.’s other groups (who would be a good candidate to take on Steel Train?). Although the original versions of these songs might sound a little “cleaner”, the energy of Live in Stereo makes it a good an introduction as any to Expert Timing. (Bandcamp link)
Squill – Moon Sessions (physical release)
Release date: April 30th Record label: Lost Sound Tapes Genre: Indie folk Formats: Cassette, digital Pull track: Little One
Moon Sessions was released digitally via Bandcamp and streaming services late last year, but came to my attention due to an upcoming cassette release through Lost Sound Tapes. Squill (not to be confused with the also-from-Boston Squitch) is the project of Lily Richeson, who was in the Massachusetts punk band Parasol for the first half of the 2010s, moved to Olympia, and now fronts the riot grrl-influenced pop punk band Bad Sleep. Squill, however, explores entirely different territory than either of those groups. Moon Sessions is primarily based around Richeson’s singing, accompanied by acoustic guitar picking or strumming. It’s ostensibly a folk album, and while some of Moon Sessions’ songs don’t feature much more instrumentation than that guitar and vocal setup, the record doesn’t restrict itself. “Her Decline”, for one, is a challenging album opener and the record’s heaviest moment, starting off quietly before thunderous percussion and distortion roar into the mix.
The appropriate Pacific Northwest reference point for when Moon Sessions reaches for the atmospheric might be the elemental folk-noise glow of The Microphones, but regardless of whether the otherworldly is taking center stage or remaining an undercurrent on Moon Sessions, Richeson grounds the album with strong songwriting. Moments like “Her Decline” and the soaring instrumental in the second half of “Blind Whispers” give shading to this lunar song cycle, but the more straightforward acoustic folk songs are the ones I find myself coming back to the most. The steady strumming of “Little One” anchors the song’s unspooling fable, while “All This Moonlight” splits the difference between a lo-fi take on country music and ethereal folk (Chorus: “Oh, you sure look alright / In all this moonlight”) and also features an excellent melodica solo. If you’ve ever been so awestruck by the moon that it’s literally knocked you off of your feet, this album’s for you. (Bandcamp link)
Pressing Concerns is back, this time talking about four new releases. I’m covering the newest LP from Fishboy, as well as EPs from This Is Lorelei, Oblivz, and The Royal Arctic Institute.
As always, be sure to check out previous Pressing Concerns for more new music. Expect another one of these next week, and I’m also working on something else exciting that should be done soon.
Fishboy – Waitsgiving
Release date: April 2nd Record label: Lauren Genre: Power pop, twee pop, folk rock Formats: Vinyl, digital Pull track: Greatness Waitress
Waitsgiving, the latest album from Denton’s Fishboy, is an intricate, detailed work of indie rock storytelling that weaves a cohesive and unique narrative across ten songs, forty years, and three generations of characters. Singer and bandleader Eric Michener isn’t deterred at all by the fact that such unabashedly lyrical works are usually reserved for the likes of progressive rockers and other music genres noted for grandiosity. Instead, Fishboy gleefully marry their pop rock instrumentals to Michener’s grand tale. Musically, Fishboy recall the midpoint between Elephant Six orchestral pop and folk punk in which Nana Grizol often reside (another folk punker, Sean Bonnette of AJJ, makes a backing vocal appearance on “Snocone Creator”), and they use their relatively humble brand of folk rock as a launching pad for lofty ambitions like fellow Texans Okkervil River (particularly in the pivotal “Seventies Singer”). Meanwhile, the pontificating, limousine-commuting narrator of “Driver Choreographer” reads like a character John K. Samson would write.
It should be noted that those aforementioned acts are contemporaries of the long-running Fishboy project, rather than influences, and also that, for all those acts’ love of story-songs, none of them have ever made a record-long narrative as clear as that of Waitsgiving. It’s the first record I’ve covered here that could legitimately be described as needing spoiler warnings. With that in mind, I won’t go too heavily into the plot of Waitsgiving, except to say that one begins connecting the characters and threads together on the first listen and I was able to get the gist after a few times through, and also that Michener’s song-by-song discussions on the Fishboy website are helpful in filling any remaining gaps. Taking all of Waitsgiving in at once, it’s refreshing to hear a band just go for it like Fishboy have done here. Could the aggressive sincerity of record be read as “corny” for someone as “poisoned by irony” as this author is on occasion? Sure. But the album works for two reasons. One: the album’s celebration of the creation of art for art’s sake has been well-earned by Michener and Fishboy, who have been doing just that for nearly two decades. When Michener sings, “If no one hears, that don’t mean a song shouldn’t be sung”, he’s in character, but it’s clear that the author is right there with the Bass Digger. Second, and just as importantly: Waitsgiving has the songs to back up their conceptual moon-shot (and then some). It’s does seem little ironic that a concept album about waiting serves up songs as immediate and catchy as “Greatness Waitress” and “Drive Choreographer”. But irony doesn’t have anything to do with it—if there’s anything to take from Waitsgiving, it’s that these songs would be just as valuable if we weren’t hearing them. (Bandcamp link)
This Is Lorelei – Bad Forever
Release date: April 2nd Record label: Wharf Cat Genre: Pop punk Formats: Digital Pull track: Garbage
Nate Amos wants to be bad forever. His solo project, This Is Lorelei, has been churning out a steady stream of singles and EPs over the past few months (I’ve highlighted some songs from a couple of them) but the latest release under his moniker stands a cut above the others. Bad Forever, which plows through nine songs in about a dozen minutes, finds Amos with the guitars cranked up, in full pop punk mode. It’s (yet another) left turn for This Is Lorelei, but one that makes sense for the versatile yet typically hooky music made by Amos. The ripping, hard-charging rock band fare of Bad Forever is sloppier and, in a sense, trashier than the (relatively) more restrained, measured textures of the usual This Is Lorelei output—and Amos’ lyrics rise to the occasion. “I know that I’m garbage, but why the hell you throwing me out?” he cracks in “Garbage”, while the nightmare trip of “Unhappy/Acid” is effectively a Blink-182 song from a darker (in theme, not quality) timeline.
Amos gets an assist from Lily Konigsberg and Ani Ivry-Block of Palberta, who feature prominently throughout Bad Forever. Although at least one of them sings backing vocals on almost every song, the staggered a capella intro to “Another Banger” qualifies as the most Palberta moment on the EP. Elsewhere, they take on the function of a Greek chorus to some of Amos’ wilder lyrical moments: “You’re a shit talk man! Well, you’re not that bad…” they shout over the penultimate rave-up of “Crack”. Amos comes off as teetering on the edge of something throughout the frenetic pace of Bad Forever. That he broke out his pop punk banger persona for these songs in particular almost feels like he’s partying through it—when he says he “wants to fucking go” in the fuzz-fest “Laughing”, I wouldn’t test him. All of this gives the closing title track—an acoustic number whose reflective lyrics come in the form of a duet—a surprising weight. How unexpected, and beautiful. (Bandcamp link)
Oblivz – Uplifts
Release date: April 5th Record label: Self-released Genre: Synthpop Formats: Cassette, digital Pull track: Time Cop
Oblivz is Charlie Wilmoth and Andrew Slater, who are (slightly) more well-known as half of the Pittsburgh/Morgantown rock band Fox Japan. Their main project released the excellent album What We’re Not last year, but while that record recalled vintage guitar pop bands like The Chills and Teenage Fanclub, Oblivz veers headfirst into electronic territory. Slater does interject his guitar into Uplifts’ four tracks (his triumphant riff at the end of “Two Is Impossible” is a highlight), but there’s no mistaking this for anything but a synthpop EP through and through. Neither Wilmoth nor Slater live near each other anymore (the former is in Los Angeles and the latter in Bloomington, Indiana), so Uplifts was constructed remotely last year. Its existence is a product of the COVID-19 pandemic, and this is reflected in the opening track, “Eat Shit”. The song floats along over a mid-tempo drum machine and synths, which belie its scared and angry lyrics. It captures the feeling of helplessness in the face of an uncaring world that’s only been exacerbated since last March, and distracting oneself with mindless streaming content just to carry on. “Life is rough but entertainment’s cheap,” laments whichever of the two is singing at that point in the song.
Oblivz has admitted that the band’s lyrics don’t stray far from those of Fox Japan, and there’s certainly familiarity in the darkly humorous “Only the Weak Survive” (featuring the brag “You could knock me over with a feather duster, kid, so come on” over swelling synth strings) and in “Two Is Impossible”’s tale of struggle and futility. Most fascinating to me are the thorny words behind the treadmill-pop of “Time Cop”. I asked my partner what they thought the titular phrase was, and it made them think of the voice inside one’s head that criticizes every moment that isn’t being spent on “productivity”. I was thinking more along the lines of how social media can destroy the idea of time in any meaningful sense of the word (key line: “I can’t live my life on the Internet / Because I can’t feel alive on the Internet”), and it probably has something to do with the pandemic too, but either way, “Time Cop” has a chorus hook that rivals anything from Fox Japan. None of their main band’s wit has been lost in translation, and Wilmoth and Slater have proven themselves to be just as deft at constructing this kind of music with Oblivz. (Bandcamp link)
The Royal Arctic Institute – Sodium Light
Release date: April 2nd Record label: Rhyme & Reason Genre: Post-rock, jazz rock Formats: Cassette, digital Pull track: Tomorrowmorrow Land
New York’s Royal Arctic Institute are an instrumental group that makes “post-punk, cinematic jazz” and cites both Slint and Dick Dale as influences. The band’s various members all have impressive pedigrees, having shared stages or recording studios with the likes of Roky Erickson (guitarist John Leon), Townes Van Zandt (bassist David Motamed), and Arthur Lee (both Motamed and drummer Lyle Hysen). This collection of musicians (which, for this release, are rounded out by lead guitarist Lynn Wright and keyboardist Carl Baggaley) could probably play just about anything they wanted, which lends some extra weight to the deliberate musical choices they make and what they evoke on their latest EP, Sodium Light. “Tomorrowmorrow Land” opens the record up with some languid guitar work, but Hysen’s steady drumbeat doesn’t let the song drift off into “sleepy” territory—it’s all upbeat and alert. The track slowly builds to an eventful second half that features percussion crashes, keyboard stabs, and busy bass playing from Motamed underscoring it all.
Sodium Light’s middle section is where the band allow the songs to wander a bit. The relatively sparse percussion of “Different in Sodium Light” lets Wright fill the space with delicate solos, while Leon lets his guitar playing drift in and out of “13 Christmases at Sea”, content to let the instrument reverberate as the rest of the band leisurely move along. The strutting of closing track “Prince of Wisconsin” is the most overtly jazzy The Royal Arctic Institute get on this EP—it’s also the one song where Baggaley lets his playing loose, rather than showing restraint in service of the record’s overall atmosphere. If Sodium Light is the cinematic experience that The Royal Arctic Institute strive to evoke, then “Prince of Wisconsin” is the jaunty closing credits number that plays the audience out and lets them know that the long journey is now over. It’s an ending note of hope from the band, who created this EP in the midst of a global pandemic and I’m sure would love to get a chance to play these songs for an audience before the next Royal Arctic Institute release comes around. (Bandcamp link)
We’re back with two hours of nonstop hit singles that I enjoyed listening to over the last month. Most of these songs were either originally released or reissued this year, but there’s a bit of older music hidden down in there as well. For songs pulled from albums I’ve already written about, I’ve linked those old posts for your personal benefit. Russel the Leaf, Stoner Control, and MJ Lenderman are the only ones with multiple songs this time around. As always, be sure to check out previous playlist posts if you like this one, and you can follow the entire playlist on Spotify here.
Rest in power, Matt “Money” Miller and Tavish Maloney.
“Sailin’ Away”, Russel the Leaf From Then You’re Gunna Wanna (2021)
Producer-singer-songwriter Evan Marré starts off the latest album from his solo project Russel the Leaf with the positively stunning “Sailin’ Away”. The song is based entirely around a ringing piano and Marré’s high, youthful singing that’s backed by gorgeous vocal harmonies. The Beach Boys and Brian Wilson comparisons basically write themselves, but it’s one thing to take influence and another completely to make something as good as “Sailin’ Away” from those old bones. Read more about Then You’re Gunna Wanna here.
“Tumult Around the World”, Titus Andronicus From An Obelisk (2019, Merge)
I did that 2019 time machine playlist last month, and it got me to revisit a few albums from that year I remembered enjoying but maybe didn’t give enough attention to. That led me back to An Obelisk, a good Titus Andronicus album whose gimmick is that it’s just a good Titus Andronicus album, and to “Tumult Around the World”, which is Titus’s distressed, howling version of “Baba O’Riley”. It’d be easy to look at how simple this song is on the surface and say “What’s the big deal?” but Patrick Stickles and company really tap into something here over “Tumult Around the World”’s five minutes. Not that they really tell you what that thing is. Is it a fierce condemnation of Earth and its toil? Is it a plea for understanding? Surely any world that contains the guitar that kicks in roughly three minutes into “Tumult Around the World” can’t be that bad.
“Debutante”, Olivia’s World From Tuff 2B Tender (2021, Lost Sound Tapes)
The lead single from Olivia’s World’s upcoming Tuff 2B Tender EP is a surprisingly dense take on Pacific Northwestern twee pop. The band is now based in lead singer Alice Rezende’s native Queensland, Australia, but originally got its start in Vancouver, British Columbia—not too far from K Records and the International Pop Underground. However, while most of the bands arising from that scene repped musical simplicity and minimalism, “Debutante” is a multilayered composition that builds into a wall of sound against which Rezende’s distinct vocals fight for attention. The song is about the concoction of emotions that comes with starting a new project—something Rezende has direct recent experience with, as she had to rebuild the lineup of Olivia’s World after her latest cross-continental move.
“Sparkle Endlessly”, Stoner Control From Sparkle Endlessly (2021, Sound Judgment)
Every second of the title track from Stoner Control’s Sparkle Endlessly is immaculately executed—from the giddy “Flagpole Sitta”-esque opening drumbeat, the incredibly hooky guitar riff, singer Charley Williams’ absurd but somehow emotional chorus, and just the right amount of trumpet. Put on your best shit-eating grin and party all your stupid human emotions away with Stoner Control. Read more about Sparkle Endlessly here.
“What I See”, The Chisel From Enough Said (2021)
The Chisel are some angry Oi! punks, and they’re here to yell about you about some stuff with their latest EP, Enough Said. While this doesn’t sound on the surface like something I’d usually go for, The Chisel put together a positively anthemic chorus in “What I See” that elevates the song above your typical screed (not that there’s anything wrong with a screed here and there). “What I See” tilts against one of the most tilt-worthy targets of all time—the sensational, frenzied British press. The creeps that like to blame all of your problems on immigrants, minorities, et cetera. “What they print in the fuckin’ rag / We don’t believe it”, they carefully explain, before lifting the curtain for the listener: “This country’s brought to its knees / But not by the people in the paper you read”. Not sure what’s up with the hash browns, though.
“God’s Gift to Women”, Harmony Woods From Graceful Rage (2021, Skeletal Lightning)
Even taking into account just how much of an emotional rollercoaster the rest of Graceful Rage is, I still wasn’t prepared for “God’s Gift to Women”. It’s raw and unflinching, but in a different way than the rest of that album. Harmony Woods’ Sofia Verbilla paints an absolutely brutal sketch of a two-faced person who disguises their misdeeds under a neat, perfect public image, and channels her anger into the extremely potent power of pop punk catharsis. When the song ramps up into its chorus, it’s a “wow” moment that’s surpassed only moments later by that “haunted by the past” line that’s crammed between the bars. “God’s Gift to Women” only represents one pole of Graceful Rage—“Time to watch those skeletons fall / This is your wrecking ball” becomes “Now I’ll keep my mouth shut, baby / Save it for the ones who love me” merely a song later. Those thornier, more complex emotions that Verbilla explores elsewhere are no less powerful, but for one glorious moment, she leans fully into the “rage” side of Graceful Rage. No Infinite Jest discourse in the comments, please.
“Deliverance”, St. Lenox From Ten Songs of Worship and Praise for Our TumultuousTimes (2021, Don Giovanni/Anyway)
Although St. Lenox’s upcoming fourth album grapples extensively with Andrew Choi’s feelings towards Christianity, opening track “Deliverance” begins by referencing a secular holiday—Groundhog Day. “The Punxsutawney folktale was bullshit, you know / Well, that’s what I’ve always thought about religion” is how Choi starts to explain where he’s coming from, but, of course, “Deliverance” wouldn’t be worth a mention if he didn’t interrogate those thoughts further. Over simple piano chords and buzzing synths, Choi sings about how mortality—both his own and those around him—has forced him to confront heavy topics that, up until now, he’d been fortunate enough not to have to face. The song follows that thread and ends with Choi musing “I’m ready to believe in something these days / Maybe I can believe in deliverance now”. It makes one begin to understand why he has described Ten Songs of Worship and Praise for Our Tumultuous Times as “a progressive, queer, spiritual record”, and it makes one appreciate the path that Andrew Choi has taken to arrive here as well.
“Redeeming Qualities”, Proper Nouns From Feel Free (2021, Phone Booth)
I’ve said this on Twitter before, but, my goodness, does Proper Nouns’ Spencer Compton sound like the late Scott Miller of Game Theory and The Loud Family. It’s not just one aspect of Miller’s music that rings the bell for me—it’s the high tenor “miserable whine”, it’s the chip-on-shoulder vocal inflection, it’s the skewed pop sensibility that can turn something like the phrase “redeeming qualities” into something profound. In case it’s not clear, this is all a high compliment at Rosy Overdrive, but the second single from the upcoming Feel Free is a strong song in its own right. “Redeeming Qualities” is a slightly new wave-influenced jangle/power pop number that mostly sticks to traditional rock band instrumentation, other than letting the synths take front and center during the bridge, and it will not leave your head once entered.
“Strawberry Cough”, FACS From Present Tense (2021, Trouble in Mind)
The lead single from FACS’s fourth album, Present Tense, is a fuzzy blast of post-punk that’s also surprisingly catchier than the typical fare from the Chicago experimental/noise rock band. Despite being (presumably) named after the strain of marijuana, “Strawberry Cough” has a woozy, psychedelic undertone—almost like FACS took all those kaleidoscopic, fruit-themed songs of the sixties and filtered them through scary eighties American underground rock. The end result falls somewhere between “cool cat” and “paranoia”, or kind of like if Sonic Youth had tried to go commercial about five years earlier in their career than when they actually did.
“Someone Get the Grill Out of the Rain”, MJ Lenderman From Ghost of Your Guitar Solo (2021, Dear Life)
MJ Lenderman has a knack for Sparklehorse-esque beauty in the mundane, and it’s out in full force on the 70-second “Someone Get the Grill Out of the Rain”. Coming off as a brief but memorable scene sketch, the song quickly presents its thesis sentence and doesn’t overstay its welcome, preferring to fly by like a twangy Guided by Voices or Magnetic Fields album track. Still, Lenderman gets out the line “Precious memories are the ones that suck” before the song ends—he’s not playing around. Read more about Ghost of Your Guitar Solo here.
“Old Friend”, Worriers From The Old Friend EP (2021, Bruiser Worldwide)
The recent covers EP from Worriers is a really fun, light follow-up to 2020’s excellent You or Someone You Know. The Old Friend EP finds the band laying down worthy version of two songs that are near and dear to me (“Letter From an Occupant” by The New Pornographers and “That’s How I Escaped My Certain Fate” by Mission of Burma) but oddly enough it was the title track, a take on a Rancid song that I don’t think I’ve ever heard before, that made it to the playlist. The first ska song to make an appearance on Rosy Overdrive, Worriers’ cover of “Old Friend” best captures the spirit of the EP, which is that of a group of friends coming together to play music they love for the pure enjoyment of it.
“Crescent Bridge”, Joe Pug From The Diving Sun (2021)
“Crescent Bridge”, the opening track to Joe Pug’s latest album The Diving Sun, is everything I enjoy about his music—Pug’s soulful vocals are front and center, the instrumental is simple rootsy stuff that enhances but doesn’t distract, and his lyrics are as grandiose-bordering-on-corny as ever. Here we find Pug, ever the plucky underdog, waiting on the titular Crescent Bridge and trying with all his talent as a songwriter to sell a certain love interest on his troubadour, unglamorous lifestyle over an unnamed member of the upper crust. “He drives a dark car, no heart, rebel with a Gold Card” is such a great petty line, and “Your stomach’s always empty with a silver spoon” is a pretty good one-liner too.
“North Fork Wine”, Personal Space From A Lifetime of Leisure (2021, Good Eye)
Among the various character studies that permeate Personal Space’s A Lifetime of Leisure, “North Fork Wine” is one of the most complete and intriguing. The song’s verses paint the picture of a “conscious consumer” progressive liberal that fully embraces the mantle of purchasing habits as politics. “Fair trade, free range every day” proclaims our discerning narrator at the song’s climax, and elsewhere they take pride in boycotting XXXTentacion’s music and tracking down reclaimed pine. The song’s chorus is a pretty succinct dispatch, seemingly shaking its head both at this Vitruvian man’s internalization of the lack of societal change as a personal failure and his still-unshakable belief in his outlook. Also, the song’s extremely catchy and you don’t have to care about any of that to like it. Read more about A Lifetime of Leisure here.
“Surface Tension”, Leanne Betasamosake Simpson From Theory of Ice (2021, You’ve Changed)
Theory of Ice, the latest album from Michi Saagiig Nishnaabeg author and singer Leanne Betasamosake Simpson, is a strong collection of writing that draws inspiration from water and its forms, as well as her experiences as an indigenous North American. She and an all-star group of Canadian musicians steer the album deftly from a full-band folk rock update of Willie Dunn’s withering “I Pity the County” (Dunn will appear later in this playlist) to spare acoustic songs like “Failure of Melting” and “The Wake”. “Surface Tension” contains moments of both ends—although it eventually swells to a gorgeous musical climax, the way it slowly builds to its conclusion and its lyrics about “simple, stolen moments” make the song one of the more delicate tracks on Theory of Ice. Rosy Overdrive favorite John K. Samson joins Simpson on vocals to add an extra layer of warmth to the journey.
“Today’s the Day”, Herzog From Fiction Writer (2021, Exit Stencil)
I liked Fiction Writer as a whole album because it found Herzog tapping into a hard-earned well of maturity and depth in their songwriting. I like “Today’s the Day” because it fuckin’ rocks. It’s a hard-charging, fuzzy garage power pop song about getting out there in the street and clashing with the fuzz—uh, I mean, the authorities. Lyrically it’s a little vague as to what Herzog is protesting, but at least they’re very enthusiastic about it. Read more about Fiction Writer here.
“Kansas”, Neil Young and Crazy Horse From Neil Young Archives Vol. II (2020, Reprise)
I could’ve pulled several hidden gems from Neil Young’s 10-CD Archives II box set, but I went with an alternate, full-band version of a Neil song that I already liked before the box set came out here. A solo version of “Kansas” showed up last year on the unearthed release of the “lost” album Homegrown, but it’s given the mid-tempo country-rock treatment from Crazy Horse on the box set’s eighth disc, Dume (which is a reimagining of 1975’s Neil Young and Crazy Horse record, Zuma). The sparse Homegrown version fit well with that album’s bleak tone, and while this upbeat rendition emphasizes the song’s tender moments, it still can’t shake its sad and lonely undertones. If you’re looking for more Archives II highlights, a solo live version of “Midnight on the Bay” and the Tonight’s the Night outtake “Everybody’s Alone” were also on the shortlist for this playlist.
“L’exotisme Interieur”, Stereolab From Electrically Possessed [Switched On Volume 4] (2021, Warp)
As a casual Stereolab fan, it always blows my mind just how much Stereolab music is out there. Electrically Possessed is the fourth compilation of non-album Stereolab songs, it’s a triple album that’s nearly two hours long, and from what I understand there’s still a good deal of their music that’s relatively hard to find. I’m not sure what possessed (no pun intended, genuinely) me to listen to this whole album despite only really knowing their “classic” records (from Transient Random-Noise Bursts… to Cobra and Phases Group…) but Stereolab is Stereolab, and I found myself just putting it on when I wasn’t sure what to listen to frequently. “L’exotisme Interieur”, which as best as I can tell was originally the B-side to their 2008 “Explosante Fixe” single, is the tight three-minute pop song highlight, with Lætitia Sadier singing a melodic French vocal over a busy but warm instrumental.
“It’s Never Been a Fair Fight”, Craig Finn From All These Perfect Crosses (2020, Partisan)
“It’s Never Been a Fair Fight” has been kicking around for awhile now, but I only really appreciated it after it was included on the All These Perfect Crosses compilation, which finally got a non-Record Store Day release in February. Musically, it feels like a continuation of the lively version of his sound that Finn explored on 2019’s I Need a New War, with a soul-influenced groove and prominent horn section that would give the song a pretty wide appeal if it wasn’t Craig Finn singing. Speaking of Finn, the lyrics to “It’s Never Been a Fair Fight” find him operating squarely in his wheelhouse. Only he could sing about growing older and becoming disillusioned with the punk and hardcore scenes (“We said there weren’t any rules / But there were so many goddamn rules”) so naturally.
“Warm Storm”, Giant Sand From Ramp (1991, Rough Trade)
I’ve wanted to talk about Howe Gelb’s weirdo alt-country-roots-rock band Giant Sand on Rosy Overdrive for a while now, and the thirtieth anniversary of 1991’s Ramp is a good an excuse as any. “Warm Storm” is one of Giant Sand’s more straightforward, radio-friendly numbers, and that’s even accounting for the left-turn old-country banjo interlude roughly two minutes into the song. I believe that that’s frequent Gelb collaborator Victoria Williams singing the chorus—my apologies if I’m wrong there, but whoever it is, it’s a stroke of genius. It turns the song into a genuine anthem without Gelb having to stop doing his Dust Bowl vampire routine that gives “Warm Storm” its urgent undercurrent. The warm storm is coming, don’t spend your whole life waiting for it.
“Classic Like King Kong”, Russel the Leaf From Then You’re Gunna Wanna (2021)
“Classic Like King Kong” is perhaps the most pure pop moment on Then You’re Gunna Wanna, which as anyone who’s heard the whole album knows is very high praise. The song is a masterclass in turning heartache and hurt into something beautiful and comforting. Evan Marré sounds like he’s ruefully grinning throughout the whole thing, even during the moments when he’s not certain just how wounded he actually is. “I’m tossing about at night, wondering what the hell went wrong” never sounded so good. Read more about Then You’re Gunna Wanna here.
“Laughing Waters”, Snowhore From Everything Tastes Bad (2021, Devil Town Tapes)
Nostalgic sadness permeates most of Everything Tastes Bad, and even “Laughing Waters”, the upbeat album opener, isn’t spared. Snowhore’s Veronica Isley opens the song with “In laughing waters your skin is warm / Ain’t seen no trouble, can’t do no harm” and continues its summer childhood imagery by referencing the taste of artificial cherry—only to sucker punch us all at the end with “’Til your brain went numb / Until you weren’t young”. Read more about Everything Tastes Bad here.
“Oscar Wilde (Came Here to Make Fun of You)”, JohnMurry From The Stars Are God’s Bullet Holes (2021, Submarine Cat)
The first John Murry song I ever heard was “Under a Darker Moon” from 2017’s A Short History of Decay. I instantly was blown away with how the Mississippi-born, Ireland-based songwriter traded in gallows humor that could be both genuinely harrowing and funny, and how he could plumb these depths with incredibly sharp melodies. If that sounds intriguing to you, well, here’s “Oscar Wilde (Came Here to Make Fun of You)”. The song’s weapons of choice are a shuffling beat and an excellent bass groove, and Murry walks one of his most impressive lyrical tightropes over them. “Oscar Wilde” finds him thinking of paranoia, violence, and of course the titular author. “I’d rather be deemed a criminal that be a player in this nocturne,” mutters Murry in his distinctive baritone, before mustering up a challenge: “Take me to Reading Gaol with Oscar Wilde / I’ll get used to it”. The song’s video’s worth a watch, as well.
“Impossible Game”, Oso Oso From Basking in the Glow (2019, Triple Crown)
Basking in the Glow was another 2019 album that I enjoyed but maybe didn’t give enough attention to. Not that it needed my attention, mind you—Jade Lilitri was perfectly capable of breaking out on his own, and I remember Basking in the Glow cutting through the bullshit sometime during my personal haze of late 2019. A couple times I passed over “Impossible Game” on this playlist, thinking “Do I really need this here? A random 2019 Oso Oso song?” but every time the chorus kicked in it made my stray thoughts look like the fools they were. I am elastically, deliriously, just trying to stay in that lane, too, Jade.
“Season”, Dan Wriggins From Mr. Chill (2021, Orindal)
This makes three monthly playlists in a row for Mr. Chill himself, Dan Wriggins, and I can’t say he didn’t earn it. “Season” is an intriguing highlight from Wriggins’ latest EP, differentiating itself from that record’s other four songs by wading into darker territory and opting for “cold” rather than “chill”. Wriggins’ vocals are as striking as ever, here letting “How to keep doing the things you should /How to hang on to the days you felt good” hang there like the semi-questions they are. Also, I may be wrong about this, but I’m pretty sure I saw Friendship (Wriggins’ band) play this song live at the same show where they played the title track from Mr. Chill. Read more about Mr. Chill here.
“Live Jack”, MJ Lenderman From Ghost of Your Guitar Solo (2021, Dear Life)
This is a live version of the song “Gentlemen’s Jack” that also appears on Ghost of Your Guitar Solo. I probably should’ve included the cleaner-sounding “studio” version, but partially due to my high lo-fi tolerance I slightly prefer the, uh, spiritedness of this recording slightly more. “Live Jack” sports a singsong melody that reminds me of Simon Joyner and it features some of MJ Lenderman’s finest lyricism, regarding Jack Nicholson sitting courtside at a Lakers game of all things. “I found two trees with the nerve enough to hold me” is a hell of a closing line, too. Read more about Ghost of Your Guitar Solo here.
“Sunless Saturday”, Fishbone From The Reality of My Surroundings (1991, Sony)
I’ve been coming to terms recently with the fact that I don’t actually hate funk metal music—I just loath Anthony Kiedis’s vocals so much that I didn’t want anything to do with anybody ever mentioned in the same sentence as his band. “Sunless Saturday” is a lot more metal than funk, though, so perhaps this is me taking a baby step forward rather than a leap. The musical bombast of “Sunless Saturday” works well with its melodramatic lyrics, which capture the same defiant dread that “Tumult Around the World” did earlier in this playlist. It’s a harsh but undeniable closer for The Reality of My Surroundings, an overstuffed, head-spinning tour de force of an album that, as spotty as it can be at times, I’d still recommend for anyone curious about this strain of rock music. Just dive in—I did, and I’m fine. Shit, is Mike Patton’s music actually good too? Do I need to listen to his bands next?
“Elevator World”, Stoner Control From Sparkle Endlessly (2021, Sound Judgment)
“Elevator World” is Sparkle Endlessly’s (hypothetical) side two highlight. The fun descending riff that opens the song and the trampoline chorus play around with the song’s title and lyrical conceit to great effect. The song dethrones Fountains of Wayne’s “Elevator Up” for the title of best power pop elevator-based song the moment singer/guitarist Charley Williams stretches the “go” in the “You gotta let me know / You gotta let me go” section of the chorus into multiple syllable territory. Read more about Sparkle Endlessly here.
“World of Sand”, The Cakekitchen From World of Sand (1991, Homestead)
More gorgeous Kiwi pop from The Cakekitchen, who contributed something similar to February’s playlist. The title track from 1991’s World of Sand is an acoustic arpeggiated number that showcases the delicate end of bandleader Graeme Jefferies’ songwriting. His melancholic vocals and guitar picking are accompanied by swelling violin from Alastair Galbraith (“New Zealand’s only violin player”), which gives the song a simple elegance that sounds like a professionally-recorded continuation of the lo-fi pop that Graeme and his brother Peter were making in the 1980s with This Kind of Punishment. While much of World of Sand found The Cakekitchen gelling together as a three-piece band (with bassist Rachel King and drummer Robert Key forming Jeffries’ rhythm section), “World of Sand” the song isn’t constrained by lineup.
“Sun Ra Jane”, Lifeguard From Receiver b/w Sun Ra Jane (2021, Chunklet)
I enjoy both sides of the latest 7” by Lifeguard (not to be confused with the Robert Pollard/Doug Gillard project Lifeguards) but there’s something about the single’s tricky B-side that caused me to zero in on it in particular. Most of “Sun Ra Jane” is instrumental, highlighted by guitarist Kai Slater playing a mathy riff appearing at both the start- and endpoints, and then a middle section that slows everything to a halt only to build it all back up again. The song’s two vocals parts (not sure if they count as choruses) find all of Lifeguard on deck shouting along together, reminiscent of Unwound’s more punked-up moments.
“Flipping Shit”, Gaadge From Yeah? (2021, Crafted Sounds)
“Geisterwaltz”, Writhing Squares From Chart for the Solution (2021, Trouble in Mind)
I don’t have this problem but I imagine that, for some people, Writhing Squares’ space-psych-prog rock double album odyssey Chart for the Solution might be a tad overwhelming. Well, I’ve got good news for you: “Geisterwaltz” condenses everything great about that record into a totally reasonable four-minute package. The song is built off of a memorably psychedelic swirling riff and is punctuated by saxophone squalls that all come together to be bizarrely catchy—it’s not hard to imagine some mirror universe where “Geisterwaltz” is a number one hit single. I’d like that universe. Read more about Chart for the Solution here.
“Bucket Beach”, The Pretty Flowers From Listen Up! A Benefit for Democracy Now! (2021, The Stowaways)
“Bucket Beach” is going to show up on a benefit album later this year, but the song itself is out now and stands on its own quite nicely as a single showcase for Los Angeles’ Pretty Flowers. It sort of exudes a slacker vibe, but there are a lot of bells and whistles beneath the surface. It’s got some nice acoustic hits for an intro, and even an unabashed jangle pop chorus and full-on handclaps aren’t enough to pull “Bucket Beach” out of its unexplainably transfixing moody core. Singer Noah Green seems to flirt with both the irreverent and the sincere in his lyrics, perhaps in a nod to the nineties indie underground bands from which The Pretty Flowers undoubtedly have taken some influence.
“Avenue H”, Williamson Brothers (2021, Dial Back Sound/Janky Genius)
The Williamson Brothers are Adam and Blake, who I’m familiar with as the rhythm section for Birmingham’s excellent Lee Bains III & The Glory Fires. They’ve struck out on their own for this project, with Adam sliding from bass to guitar, Blake taking lead vocals, and Matt Patton stepping in on bass to complete the trio. According to Dial Back Sound, the band’s first single is “a tribute to the joys and frustrations of playing SXSW, skateboarding, and Austin punk power librarians Tim & Beth Kerr”. The song is oddly atmospheric in the verses before exploding into a big garage rock chorus about booking it to the titular avenue at South By. When people say something sounds like Teenage Fanclub they usually mean it’s wispy and jangly, but that band has plenty of distorted, feedback-heavy moments as well, and that’s where the Williamson Brothers land with “Avenue H”.
“The Ballad of Crowfoot”, Willie Dunn From Creation Never Sleeps, Creation Never Dies: The WillieDunn Anthology (2021, Light in the Attic)
You can consider “The Ballad of Crowfoot” the playlist’s “bonus track” if you’d like, as its ten-minute length sends it sailing way over the concise two-hour goal I always invariably miss. But that’s certainly not a knock on the song’s quality—the real reason it’s last here is that nothing could follow it. “The Ballad of Crowfoot” was famously the soundtrack for a short 1969 documentary of the same name about the Siksika chief, which is often cited as Canada’s first music video. The late Mi’kmaq folk singer Willie Dunn, who directed the documentary in addition to penning the song, built up a strong songbook that’s beginning to be more accessible thanks to a recent anthology from Light in the Attic Records. Light in the Attic has excelled in bringing this kind of music to the spotlight before, particularly with their 2015 reissue of Willie Thrasher’s Spirit Child. Dunn is in a class all his own, however—“The Ballad of Crowfoot” and its rolling timeline of treachery and atrocities committed by the Canadian government against various Indigenous peoples is all too relevant today, never mind the fact that its narrative “ends” in 1971.
Release date: April 2nd (digital), August 7th (physical) Record label: Comedy Minus One Genre: Indie goddamn rock Formats: Vinyl, digital Pull track: Since Grazed
Eleventh Dream Day have carried on. They spawned from the 1980s indie underground in the surprisingly fertile musical hotbed of Louisville, Kentucky. They survived the nineties and its alt-rock major label gold rush, coming away with a tale of bureaucratic incompetence and mismanagement to rival any other unfortunate band that got caught up in those indifferent gears. They’ve weathered the requisite lineup shifts (in the time between their most recent studio album and Since Grazed, one of those former members, Matthew “Wink” O’Bannon, passed on from this life). They confused fans by continuing to evolve their sound over a decade into their career, finding a home in the rich experimental music scene of their adopted hometown of Chicago. They influenced and were influenced by many of their Thrill Jockey labelmates, such as bassist Doug McCombs’ other band, Tortoise. In the 2010s, Eleventh Dream Day’s output slowed down but their new songs refused to slow down with it—in actuality, they roared as loudly as the records from the band’s heyday. Although their amps were too cranked up for them to slot comfortably into an “elder statesman” role, the band at least appeared to have settled into a lane. But then Since Grazed happened.
Since Grazed is a double album, clocking in at around an hour in length, which makes it Eleventh Dream Day’s longest record to date. One would assume that this means that they went even heavier on the Crazy Horse-style extended guitar freakouts this time around. But that’s not what makes up the bulk of Since Grazed. The opening title track doesn’t greet the listener with blasts of feedback, but rather the muted strumming of an acoustic guitar. Lead singer Rick Rizzo doesn’t even begin his vocals until over a minute into the track, and the song only starts to take shape when the first chorus arrives a minute later. At this point, finally, “Since Grazed” takes off with incredible vocal harmonies, echoing drums, and a triumphant lead vocal from Rizzo. It’s expansive, it’s dramatic, it’s both like nothing I’ve ever heard from Eleventh Dream Day and instantly one of their best songs ever. And it’s an early sign that I needed to throw out my pre-conceived notions of the band in order to properly take in this album.
Like the title track, the other giants of Since Grazed take a similar deliberate, skyscraping shape. “Just Got Home (In Time to Say Goodbye)”, the longest song on the album, is an immortal ballad that features haunting vocal harmonies from drummer Janet Bean and hints at a very deep well of emotion underneath its relatively simple instrumental and Rizzo’s lyrics. When Rizzo sings, “Guess that I just missed you, but it’s so much more than that”, he makes it sound like he has a thousand other things he wants to say but isn’t sure how. The appropriately regal-sounding “Tyrian Purple” does it one better, slowly building to a breathtaking climax of Rizzo declaring “I want to feel the power, bathed in moonlight” backed by the full strength of the entire band. “Take Care”, which opens up the album’s second record, similarly takes its entire length to unfurl. It’s notably undergirded by a sense of urgency that’s ushered along by a tick-tocking riff and brisk acoustic strumming—the creation of the atmosphere is so effective that I almost didn’t notice the lack of any percussion until it came crashing in nearly five minutes into the song.
The final two minutes of “Take Care” are one of the handful of moments where the band lets loose some semblance of the Eleventh Dream Day of old. Since Grazed’s other two “rockers” are “A Case to Carry On” and “Yves Klein Blues”. The titular message of the former song functions as a thesis statement for the whole album, while the latter is a joyfully short fuzz-romp that could’ve shown up on a number of past Eleventh Dream Day albums. But some of Since Grazed’s most effective moments are the biggest departures from this sound. “Look Out Below” is tucked away at the bottom of Side Three, but it’s sneakily one of the best songs on the album. A tender acoustic ballad, the song is enhanced by excellent backing vocals from Bean and what sounds like some studio wizardry from piano/synth player Mark Greenberg. Album closer “Every Time This Day It Rains” is, despite its six-minute length, a fairly straightforward mid-tempo song about the weather and watching sandhill cranes fly over a field, among other things.
“Every Time This Day It Rains” is, like most of Since Grazed, carefully crafted to evoke simple beauty. It almost feels like a photo negative of their hard-charging earlier material, in that it captures something primal just like Prairie School Freakout and Lived to Tell, but takes a completely different route to do so. It doesn’t sound like their “experimental” middle period, either—there are no Tortoise-esque post-rock interludes here. As stretched-out as some of these songs are, they’re all tightly-structured and composed. I can’t help but be reminded of Comedy Minus One labelmates and fellow Chicagoans Mint Mile’s recent double LP statement of their own, Ambertron. While there are clear differences between that record and this one, both of them are widescreen statements by artists who had been working towards them their entire musical careers, even if we (and they) didn’t realize it. It shouldn’t be a surprise that Eleventh Dream Day have turned in something as strong as Since Grazed after thirty years of musical vitality, but that they did it by expanding and reshaping their sound is remarkable in its own right.
New Pressing Concerns, just in time for Bandcamp Friday! Today I talk about new albums from Stoner Control, 7-11 Jesus, and Herzog, as well as a reissue of Snowhore’s debut EP. It’s a smaller edition this time around, but I wanted to spotlight these four under-the-radar releases for the big Bandcamp holiday rather than holding on to them and adding more later. Several of the “also notables” are albums that intrigue me and I reserve the right to write about later—normally I’d hold them back until then, but since I’ll probably take a week or two off before I do another full one of these, I wanted to mention them.
Also out today (4/2) is Eleventh Dream Day’s Since Grazed—which I will have more to say about early next week (hopefully). Check it out in the meantime. And as always, be sure to consult previous editions of Pressing Concerns for hours upon hours of good new music. Look for a March 2021 playlist post sometime in the next two weeks.
Stoner Control – Sparkle Endlessly
Release date: March 19th Record label: Sound Judgement Genre: Power pop, pop punk Formats: Digital Pull track: Sparkle Endlessly
Portland’s Stoner Control are a real power trio. Guitarist Charley Williams, bassist Sam Greenspan, and drummer Michael Cathcart all contribute vocals and songwriting to the hooky, shiny, and appropriately-titled Sparkle Endlessly, which sees the band confidently plows through ten remarkably well-written guitar pop songs in thirty minutes and change. Before the record runs its course, they’ve done variations on their open-minded blend of catchy power-pop-punk that skew breezy, caffeinated, wistful, snotty—all the songs have distinct personalities that make listening to Sparkle Endlessly in full just about as rewarding as you can get with this kind of music.
Either a testament to their individual skills or how well they all work together, there’s no weak link throughout Sparkle Endlessly, regardless of who’s on vocals or credited as penning the song. Greenspan’s carefree, aurally sunglasses-clad talk-singing in “Learning to Swim” is the record’s first “wow” moment, while every second of the title track is immaculately executed, from the “Flagpole Sitta”-aping opening to the literal aping in the chorus. The starry-eyed “Only” sounds like Nick Thorburn fronting a jangle pop band, and it pairs nicely with the earnest charms of the album’s next track, “Open Ocean”. “Elevator World” is the (hypothetical) side two highlight, which dethrones Fountains of Wayne’s “Elevator Up” for the title of best power pop elevator-based song the moment Williams stretches the “go” in the “You gotta let me know / You gotta let me go” chorus into multiple-syllable territory.
Williams’ vocals sound like the midpoint between Mo Troper (who co-produced and contributed some guitar to the album) and Doug Martsch of Built to Spill, and Sparkle Endlessly does take the smart pop sensibilities of the former and works them out in a tight band setting like the best moments of the latter. I’m thinking of songs like “The Best Thing”, which starts off simply with Williams singing and playing alone, but then morphs into a soaring alt-rock number in its second half. The record closes with “Ctrl-F”, a garage rocker that contains some of the album’s sharpest lyrics and works as a send-off despite not really sounding like any of the songs that came before it. But that’s the story with Stoner Control on Sparkle Endlessly, an album that never stops finding ways to impress for its entire runtime. (Bandcamp link)
7-11 Jesus – Tree Dream
Release date: February 12th Record label: Self-released Genre: Shoegaze, noise rock Formats: CD, cassette, digital Pull track: Tried So Hard
Tree Dream is the self-recorded and self-released second album by the San Francisco-based in-the-red fuzz rock trio 7-11 Jesus. The band’s guitarist and singer, August Darula, has a weary but still emotive voice that’s sure to garner J. Mascis comparisons—J’s band is a clear influence on 7-11 Jesus, whose members all originally hail from Boston. Nü-shoegaze-grunge bands like Ovlov also come to mind throughout Tree Dream (they have a song called “Where’s My Dimi”, I feel obligated to point out). However, other than some moments in the Dino Jr. pastiche “Kill Your Friends”, 7-11 Jesus doesn’t really soar like the revved-up sonic blast-offs that characterize those bands—Tree Dream prefers to lumber. Most of the album lodges itself firmly in mid-tempo territory, hammered into place by the pounding of drummer Kieran Gill. Lyrically it’s hard to tell what’s going on over the squall, but “Tried So Hard” and its message of futility (“Things that I do won’t add up to very much”) pop up again and again throughout the record, and “Talk Show Host” isn’t the only song where a talk show host pops up.
The record subsequently ends up with a dark, Pacific Northwest vibe despite its California origins. The lurching instrumentals, Darula’s Sisyphean laments while attempting the Sisyphean task of singing over the guitar and Emma Jacobson’s bass—it all contributes to a lost and confused feeling that permeates Tree Dream, like the album title, which to me conjures up wandering around in the forest with increasing franticness, thinking “have I passed that tree before?” The album’s last two songs are a nice pallet cleanser after the wall of noise—“Death of a Son” is an oddly eerie synth interlude, and “Time to Die” plays Tree Dream out with a clear ringing piano and acoustic guitar. They’re both certainly curveballs, but I like the choice—it’s almost a thank you note from 7-11 Jesus for cranking it up and circling the drain with them for the majority of Tree Dream. (Bandcamp link)
Herzog – Fiction Writer
Release date: March 19th Record label: Exit Stencil Genre: Power pop Formats: Vinyl, digital Pull track: Today’s the Day
Herzog have been making their fuzzy garage rock out of Cleveland, Ohio for a decade now, and an entire year of that decade has been spent slowly rolling out Fiction Writer—the band released one song a month, finally completing the 12-song record in March. I’m not sure if this had been their plan all along, or if it was an adaption to the havoc COVID wreaked upon the process of putting out music, but listening to all these songs in the same place has confirmed to me that they’re all very much of a piece with each other and form something greater than the sum of their parts. Fiction Writer is a frequently roaring but multi-layered collection of meta-rock anthems that find Herzog both playing with and taking literally the album’s title and how it relates to themselves as a band. And they have a blast playing along with it, too.
Lead singer Nick Tolar’s clear, affable voice combined with the band’s populist (“subtlety-free”) music reminds me of Boston’s Hallelujah the Hills, and like with that band’s last album, Herzog now seem more inclined to look in the mirror and self-reflect as they transition from being a new, young band to a longer-running institution. “Shadows” is about songwriter Tony Vorell’s time working at Cleveland’s Beachland Ballroom (and features an unexpected but welcome pedal steel guitar interlude courtesy of Stephen “Tebbs” Karney), while the title track and “If You’re Alone, You’re in Our Band” are both songs about being in bands and the strength Herzog take from this relationship, albeit in very different ways. They still indulge in the garage rock numbers that garnered them semi-accurate Cloud Nothings and Weezer comparisons back in the day (see “I’m Being Replaced” and “Money”), and “Wrong Way”’s instrumental is a pure classic rock pastiche, but all of these songs have a similar aging musician/songwriter narrator, and it’s hard not to take the retro feel of the latter in particular as a deliberate extra layer of subtext. However, you don’t really need to connect the dots to appreciate Fiction Writer and its impressive assortment of hooky pop songs that just happen to do all of the above. (Bandcamp link)
Snowhore – Everything Tastes Bad (Reissue)
Release date: March 29th Record label: Devil Town Tapes Genre: Bedroom pop, lo-fi indie rock Formats: Cassette, digital Pull track: Laughing Waters
Everything Tastes Bad, the debut EP from Philadelphia’s Snowhore, initially received a limited, Bandcamp-only release in 2018, but a recent cassette reissue from Devil Town Tapes will hopefully see these songs reach a wider audience. The band is led by Veronica Isley, who is backed for the majority of Everything Tastes Bad by bassist Katee Della Monica (from the Rosy Overdrive-approved No Thank You) and drummer Greg Mendez. Most of these songs hover around the two-minute mark, and if you blink you might miss the short but effective snapshots that characterize Isley’s lyrical style. “Bad Friend” is a slice of brutality from the self-described “sensitive with a capital ‘s’” Isley, and even the upbeat opener “Laughing Waters” has a nostalgic sadness to its summer childhood imagery. At least “Gwynnie” closes the original version of Everything Tastes Bad with its head held high. The new reissue of the album comes with the previously-unreleased tunes “Sad Song” and “Maybe When I’m Older” added to the end of the release. Both of these are sparse, acoustic numbers reminiscent of Waxahatchee’s American Weekend—particularly the latter song, which is built off a delicately played riff that mirrors its lyrical question mark. The intimacy of these bonus tracks is an appealing alternate look at Isley’s songwriting, although songs like “Field of Dreams” do show that Snowhore can translate this weight to a full-band setting, and perhaps hint at future heights for the band. (Bandcamp link)
Today in Pressing Concerns, I highlight new releases from Personal Space, MJ Lenderman, Mo Troper, Fake Fruit, Really From and Nineteen Thirteen. Also coming out today (March 26th) is Chart for the Solution by Writhing Squares, an album that I wrote about earlier this week. For even more new music, be sure to check out previous editions of Pressing Concerns. I’m not sure when the next blog post will be, or what it will be–I do have a few albums earmarked to highlight in the coming weeks, and it’s about time for a new playlist too.
Personal Space – A Lifetime of Leisure
Release date: March 19th Record label: Good Eye Genre: Indie pop, chill math rock Formats: Digital Pull track: North Fork Wine
Brooklyn’s Personal Space ask more of the listener than your average chill indie guitar rock band—on A Lifetime of Leisure, they have quite a lot to say. The album’s ten tracks are populated with character sketches that look at various archetypes through the band’s leftist activist lens. Some of these are obvious—the chapeau-clad narrator of “Thinking Man” is a clear take on rise-and-grind Silicone Valley true believers, while it takes a bit of inferring to connect the (incredibly earworm-y) chorus of “North Fork Wine” to the failures of liberalism to which the song’s verses refer. “Ethical” media consumption, choices of wine, biting a Greek philosopher’s style—there’s nothing Personal Space can’t and won’t put under their analytical microscope. Even when the band gets more personal, it’s couched in similar language. “Overture” manages to be affecting and relatable in its portrayal of romantic uncertainty despite its talk of “standard issue reservations”, various European tourist destinations, and of course the titular transactional way of describing human connection.
Although I can’t really test this, I don’t think you need to fall on the same axes as Personal Space to enjoy A Lifetime of Leisure—if you aren’t paying attention to the lyrics, they’re just another ingredient in their oddly soothing brand of indie rock. Musically, the album is made up of languid pop songs that don’t neatly fall into jangle pop, psych-pop, or math rock boxes. I called The Shins “chill XTC” in a different post on this site, and I like that label here too—they have a new wave sensibility but without the nerviness of that band or, say, a Dismemberment Plan. The similarly-tough-to-pigeonhole Pinback also merits a mention. Ian MacKaye and G.W. Sok have their places in music, you know, but decades of bands raging against machines and the continuing death of the myth of “apolitical” culture have opened up new ground for Personal Space to explore on the same lyrical subjects.
That is to say, despite its critical analysis-bait lyrics, A Lifetime of Leisure is less “exhausting” and more “commiseration and comfort for the exhausted”. Is the conservative cultural echo chamber featured in “Dad USA” worth seething over? Sure, and Personal Space give the song a little more bite than the rest, but they never give into the anger at the expense of completing the image. Has the flattening of the curve of time perpetrated by how we engage with social media caused societal ripple effects with which we haven’t adequately grappled? Sure, but like “A Document of Every Occasion” describes, sometimes we can’t really do anything about it, other than just kind of dissociate into whatever years-old memory is served up to us on a silver platter. It’s chill, man. I’m supine. (Bandcamp link)
MJ Lenderman – Ghost of Your Guitar Solo
Release date: March 26th Record label: Dear Life Genre: Alt-country Formats: CD, cassette, digital Pull track: Someone Get the Grill Out of the Rain
Asheville singer-songwriter Jake Lenderman plays in the dreamy indie rock band Wednesday, but under his own name he’s made an album of lo-fi, offbeat country-punk that falls somewhere between David Berman (a noted lyrical influence) and early Simon Joyner (particularly in the voice cracking of “Catholic Priest” and the singsong melody of “Gentleman’s Jack”). Lenderman is an intriguing songwriter, finding fertile ground in the sight of Jack Nicholson sitting courtside at a Lakers game or the bizarre feeling of shame caused by seeing a friend or lover’s mother sleeping. Some of these songs come off as sketches, like the 70-second “Someone Get the Grill Out of the Rain”, which quickly presents its idea and doesn’t overstay its welcome, preferring to fly by like a twangy Guided by Voices or Magnetic Fields album track. Still, Lenderman gets out the line “Precious memories are the ones that suck” before the song ends—he’s not playing around.
Ghost of Your Guitar Solo is a short album, 25 minutes and anchored by two mostly-instrumental title tracks and a live version of one of the songs, but none of these potential padders really come off as filler. The first “Ghost of Your Guitar Solo” is a five-minute album opener that’s a bit of a red herring for the rest of the record but certainly lives up to its name, while the alternate version of “Gentleman’s Jack” offers up a livelier take on one of the album’s strongest moments. The second “Ghost of Your Guitar Solo” is really the only song here I could’ve done without, and even that one works as an interlude between the last track (the beautiful, groggily confused “Catholic Priest”) and the rest of the album. Perhaps Lenderman embraced brevity with Ghost of Your Guitar Solo as a change of pace after the last album released solely under his name, a 2019 self-titled record, clocked in at over an hour. The quality of these songs, however, leaves me wanting more and hoping we hear more from Lenderman soon. (Bandcamp link)
Mo Troper – Revolver
Release date: March 12th Record label: Self-released Genre: The Beatles Formats: Digital Pull track: Got to Get You into My Life
First of all, it was incredibly thoughtful of Mo Troper to choose my favorite Beatles album to cover in its entirety. As tempting as it would be to hear him plow through the White Album, instead we get to hear him tackle Revolver: the album that’s all hits, no misses. Well, except for “Yellow Submarine”. And the lyrics of “Taxman”, I guess. Anyway, the flipside is because Troper covered this album, and because his version of it is very good, now I have to figure out something new to say about the goddamn Beatles, or at least about their songs—so here goes. Revolver is a fit for Troper’s style in that it’s a collection of unmoored-from-time guitar pop songs that could’ve reasonably came from any decade of the post-rock-and-roll era. Where they differ, however, is in that Revolver is a foundational psychedelic rock document, whereas I’ve never really contemplated doing any hard drugs to Troper’s comparatively grounded music. And while there have been horns on his records before (“Dictator Out of Work” is a personal favorite), that still didn’t explain how he was going to tackle some of the album’s more baroque material on his own. So, how he approached the psychedelic and orchestral songs was what I was most curious about upon entry.
The droning sitars of “Love You To” and “Tomorrow Never Knows” become layered guitar workouts—they both end up sounding close to the non-album Beatles tune “Rain”, which Troper includes here as a bonus track. For the symphonic songs, “Eleanor Rigby” is played entirely on keyboard, while he goes the other way on “Got to Get You into My Life”, ending up with an even busier sound than the original. I do appreciate Troper’s innovations, and it’s also a treat to hear his versions of songs already firmly in his wheelhouse, like “I’m Only Sleeping” and “And Your Bird Can Sing”. However, my favorite moments on Mo Troper’s Revolver Presented by Mo Troper fall somewhere in between, like when he soars into the chorus of the aforementioned “Got to Get You Into My Life”, or his supremely fuzzed-out but otherwise mostly faithful take on “She Said She Said”. The album closes with a reverent but distinctly Troper version of “Rain”, which despite not appearing on the original Revolver is, to me, the album in a nutshell—Troper could have tried to stick to the Beatles versions as much as possible or made everything sound exactly like a Natural Beauty outtake, but he’s too fond of these songs to be content with either narrow view.
Also, all proceeds from this album are being donated to Defense Fund PDX and Austin Mutual Aid. (Bandcamp link)
Fake Fruit – Fake Fruit
Release date: March 5th Record label: Rocks in Your Head Genre: Post-punk Formats: Vinyl, digital Pull track: Old Skin
Oakland-based four-piece band Fake Fruit offer up an economical version of post-punk on their self-titled debut album. They cite Pink Flag-era Wire and Pylon as influences, and musically they capture the same wobbly punk sensibilities as those bands, as well as the newest generation of acts drawing from that well (“Milkman”’s vocal chant and tight groove could be the foundation of a Parquet Courts song). That’s all well and good, but where they really set themselves apart is in frontwoman Hannah D’Amato’s lead vocals and lyrical interjections. She has no problem twisting and contorting her words to fit the music, trading in repetition and wringing the most out of a line via changes in inflection, but she still manages to pack a load of meaning into the lyrics that remain. “Lying Legal Horror Lawyers” gleefully begins with D’Amato shouting “Let’s talk about men’s rights! Let’s talk about their plight!” and the titular phrase. It’s not a linear narrative, but it’s evocative and it’s not hard to figure out where D’Amato’s mind is at from there. Likewise, the eventual refrain “I stuck my neck out for you, I did / It was a swing and a miss” from “Swing and a Miss” tells you more about what’s going on in a pair of sentences than most lyricists would give you in a full-length song. Fake Fruit is at their best when the band serves up appropriately punchy music for D’Amato to do her thing over, like the 60-second runaway train of “Old Skin” and the kiss-off “Don’t Put It on Me”. (Bandcamp link)
Really From – Really From
Release date: March 12th Record label: Topshelf Genre: Emo-jazz, math rock Formats: Vinyl, CD, cassette, digital Pull track: Quirk
With their third, self-titled album, Boston’s Really From take a musical turn towards the expansive, opening up their unique blend of jazz, emo, and math rock in new ways but never letting this get in the way of their most cutting and focused lyrics to date. In the record’s first trio of songs, we get both the down-stroked alt-rock verses of “Yellow Fever” and the ambient floating of “Apartment Song”, but the mood-setting of the former and the punchiness of the latter both make sense in context. “Yellow Fever” in particular benefits from the dexterity, with co-lead vocalist Michi Tassey grappling with the anger and hurt with being fetishized as an Asian woman in the verses, only for Really From and Tassey to both take a step back in the chorus and reflect on the broader questions these experiences pose. Really From grapples with identity throughout its length—prominently in “Try Lingual”, which is about attempting to learn to speak the language one’s parents grew up speaking, and in other vocalist Chris Lee-Rodriguez’s harrowing acoustic closer “The House”, which is unflinching in its portrayal of familial racial dynamics growing up in a half-Puerto Rican and half-Chinese household.
Really From is about moments as much as anything else. It’s about when the freewheeling, jazzy body of “Quirk” gives way to Chris Lee-Rodriguez’s stark proclamation that “Your father did this, your mother did too / The fault’s not on them” with minimal musical accompaniment, or when Tassey hands the lead vocals over to Lee-Rodriguez right before the second and somehow even more powerful climax of “I’m From Here”. A band putting together something this musically adventurous always runs the risk of getting lost in the weeds, which would be a shame here given what’s going on underneath in Really From. Moments like those, however, showcase just how potent this band can be when it all comes together—and come together they do. (Bandcamp link)
Nineteen Thirteen – MCMXIII
Release date: February 26th Record label: Self-released Genre: Hard rock, noise rock Formats: CD, digital Pull track: Post Blue Collar Blues
Dayton, Ohio’s Nineteen Thirteen make dramatic heavy rock music that comes fully-formed on their debut EP, MCMXIII. Even though they employ traditional guitar-bass-drums instrumentation, their stated influences of Godspeed You! Black Emperor and Western film soundtracks are reflected in the sprawling song lengths and conceptual turn-of-the-century industrial class themes that tie the record’s four songs together. Both the band’s name and the title of the EP refer to the year of the Great Dayton Flood, and the immediate and prolonged aftermath of this natural disaster is where vocalist Brett Hill finds fertile writing ground. In album thesis statement “Post Blue Collar Blues”, the band surveys a mid-American wasteland, Hill growling “Oh, we’re a damnable lot / Raised in abandoned factory plots” over a doomy stomp. The clouds don’t part after that, with Nineteen Thirteen then serving up the nine-minute World War I horror story “Dog Fight”, and “Old Face on the Wall” looks inward to no less ominous of a result. Though a new group, the members of Nineteen Thirteen have cut their teeth in various heavy metal and hard rock bands for multiple decades at this point, and it shows on MCMXIII. The EP (which, at 26 minutes, is longer than the MJ Lenderman album from earlier in the list) confidentially offers up crushing riffs, eerie atmospheres, and exhilarating build-ups, often right next to each other. (Bandcamp link)
Release date: March 26th Record label: Trouble in Mind Genre: Space rock, psychedelic prog rock Formats: Vinyl, CD, digital Pull track: Geisterwaltz
If phrases like “space rock odyssey”, “modern prog rock double LP”, and “psychedelic saxophone” pique your interest, then this Pressing Concerns is for you. Chart for the Solution earns all these descriptors, and more, over its 71-minute interstellar voyage. Writhing Squares seem to be aware that, if they’re going to lay down an album that shoots for the moon (so to speak), then they’d better come prepared with a capable toolbox. That’s no problem for the Philadelphia duo, made up of Daniel Provenzan (vocals, bass, and percussion) and Kevin Nickles (vocals and all the other instruments, more or less), who have plenty of tricks up their collective sleeves. Chart for the Solution is a sonic battlefield of saxophones, clarinets, synth blasts, flutes, harmonica, and roaring vocals that doesn’t stop its turrets from firing for nearly the entirety of its two records.
We’re thrown right in the thick of it from the very beginning of the album. Opener “Rogue Moon” is, in its first half, a motorik welcoming into Chart for the Solution’s terror-dome that then resolves into ambient weightlessness for the second part of its 11-minute runtime. After that, we get into what I think of as the “otherworldly hit singles” portion of the album. “Geisterwaltz” has saxophone squalls punctuating a memorably psychedelic swirling riff. The brass on “Ganymede” is a bit friendlier—is there an E Street on any of the moons of Jupiter?—but its breakneck tempo and growling vocals turn it into a rather aggressive dancefloor number. “The Abyss Is Never Brighter” speeds by in under three minutes, led by distorted bass playing from Provenzano and a flute-based assault from Nickles. The latter theatrically savors the titular line and the rest of the song’s refrain, which sets up the album’s theme of apocalyptic concern—or, perhaps, a lack of concern.
Chart for the Solution is an album that probes the outer reaches, and it doesn’t flinch from giving the bad news to us mere mortals. “The Library” isn’t musically divergent from the songs before it, but it stands alone as a spoken word piece, with a narrator that sounds like some sort of cosmic horror nature documentarian. Under a tick-tocking rhythm section, he emotionlessly imparts “I suspect that the human species is about to be extinguished, but the Library will endure” (The “library” here is the Universe; like any good prog album, you have to learn some new terminology). “NFU” is on its surface pretty similar to the bite-sized warped garage-psych nuggets of the album’s first side, but Dan Balcer’s piercing harmonica helps the instrumental bubble over into one of the most overwhelming, cacophonic moments on Chart for the Solution. And then there’s “The Pillars”.
Like “Rogue Moon” before it, “The Pillars” uses synths to build towards its epic length, and like the opening track, it also devolves into formlessness in its second half. However, while “Rogue Moon” is frantic from the get-go, the 19-minute “Pillars” takes its sweet time getting there. Despite its absurd length (it apparently takes up all of the physical album’s Side Three), it’s one of the musically simpler songs on Chart for the Solution, letting the synths do most of the work. This opens up room for some of the most memorable vocal moments on the album. “The Earth was destined for fire! Salvation: a funeral pyre!” bellows Nickels from the middle of the brimstone fury, before the dread-inducing industrial soundtrack of the song’s second half kicks in.
The album ends with an eight-minute victory lap instrumental “Epilogue”, giving the listener time to reflect on what, exactly, they just went through. Making a direct comparison for where Writhing Squares have landed (or, not landed at all) with Chart for the Solution is pretty tricky. The most obvious one is classic progressive rock like King Crimson, but there’s also a post-punk aggression that for myriad reasons you just don’t usually hear on albums like this. Bands like Upper Wilds might have the same cosmic aural assault, Trouble in Mind labelmates Sunwatchers similarly pull brass and other jazz sensibilities into this kind of rock music, and the Terry Gross album from earlier this year operates in the same lofty stratosphere of ten-plus minute song lengths. But all of this rolled into one package? Writhing Squares are on their own planet. (Bandcamp link)
Pressing Concerns is back! This post caps off a busy week for Rosy Overdrive–I reviewed a playlist I originally made in 2019 on Monday, and on Wednesday I reviewed Shoot Out the Speed Cameras by John Sharkey III, which was initially slated to be included here before it became apparent that I was going too long on it. Three posts in one week! That probably won’t happen again anytime soon. Anyway, today I’m rounding up new albums by Gaadge, Mal Devisa, Russel the Leaf, and The Death of Pop, as well as new EPs by Friendship’s Dan Wriggins and En Garde.
Be sure to check out previous editions of Pressing Concerns for more new music. Consider this the first of a two-parter that will conclude around a week from now, when I’ll talk about a couple albums coming out on March 26th plus a handful of releases I didn’t end up having room for here.
Gaadge – Yeah?
Release date: March 19th Record label: Crafted Sounds Genre: Shoegaze, noise pop Formats: Cassette, CD, digital Pull track: Creeping Weeks
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania’s Gaadge are a swirly rock band that started as the project of Mitch DeLong, but has since evolved into a full-band effort. Their debut album, Yeah?, finds Gaage carefully crafting a wall of sound, only to kick it back down throughout the record. Their reverb-heavy sound nods to, among others, the revved-up hard-shoegaze of Ovlov and Swervedriver, the chaotic noise pop of The Spirit of the Beehive, and the tender lo-fi melodies of Guided by Voices and Alex G—often in the same song. The first (full-length) song “Creeping Weeks” starts with a dreamy intro and doesn’t transition to the mid-tempo rocker it eventually becomes until nearly two minutes into the track. They continue similarly with the relative restraint of “All You Can Absorb”, but then throw in “Do What Now”, which finds the band furiously playing over DeLong’s intoned vocals and landing somewhere pretty close to a punked-up My Bloody Valentine.
There is a tradition of grandiosity among this kind of deeply-layered, sensory-overload music, and Gaadge dip their toe into that with the six-minute psychedelic rock odyssey of “Thrill”, which doesn’t reinvent their sound so much as expand on it. As if a little nervous at their audacity, they bookend the song with two sub-two-minute breather songs written by bassist Nick Boston. It’s an odd choice, but both of them are actually pretty good in their own right, particularly “Murphy’s Law”, which starts off as one Yeah?’s more subdued moments until the band lets loose in the second half. The true “breathers” on the album might actually be the straightforward alt-rock of “Flipping Shit” and “Holy Formers”—songs that still work without (or, at least, with less of) the bells and whistles of some of Yeah?’s busier moments. All in all, I’m left with a strong first impression of Gaadge—they’re a band that’s already nailed a particular sound, but DeLong and company give the songs a solid foundation underneath and hint at a duality they could explore in the future. (Bandcamp link)
Dan Wriggins – Mr. Chill
Release date: March 12th Record label: Orindal Genre: Alt-country Formats: Cassette, digital Pull track: Mr. Chill
Dan Wriggins has gained modest notoriety as the lead singer for the Philadelphia “ambient country” group Friendship, who have made three strong albums over the past half-decade. The five-song Mr. Chill EP is Wriggins’ first solo release, and it’s drawn from the same recording sessions as his single “Dent / The Diner” earlier this year. Mr. Chill is not too far from his work with Friendship—that is, it continues the minimalist twang the band explored on 2019’s Dreamin’, and Wriggins’ distinctive warble is as front and center as ever. If anything, the EP is even sparser than his band. There’s no bass on the record, which means a good portion of Mr. Chill is filled out instrumentally by only Wriggins’ acoustic guitar and fellow Friendship member Michael Cormier’s steady drumming, with occasional organ and piano stabs, also by Wriggins.
“All Things Being Equal” is a classic Friendship-style number, with Wriggins stretching out his vocals for emotion and ample use of empty space to let the words hang out in the open. “Season” is even better, treading into darker territory and opting for “cold” rather than “chill”. Wriggins’ writing is as strong as it’s ever been, turning out several memorable lines over the EP’s 17 minutes. “I can tell you stuff I can’t tell anyone else / Because you don’t threaten to help” from the title track cuts like a knife, and “Everything’s a clue to a green detective” is a hell of a thesis from “Yellow Bricks”. The best example, however, is in “Lucinda on June Bug”. That’s Lucinda Williams—Wriggins explains that the titular phrase is meant to be read in “the way an egghead might say ‘Tolstoy on morality’ or something”. It’s a roundabout way to write about taking comfort in one’s favorite records in a personal rough patch (“Prince on crying doves” also gets a mention). The song then sums everything up with a take on a famous George Bush quote (“Read my salty lips: no new love”), and if that’s not an indication of the quality of songcraft here, I’m not sure what is. (Bandcamp link)
En Garde – Debtors
Release date: March 19th Record label: Count Your Lucky Stars Genre: Post-hardcore, emo, math rock Formats: Cassette, digital Pull track: Our Hands
I’ve talked about some stuff in Pressing Concerns that could be described as “emo-tinged”, and some albums that flirted with post-hardcore, but I’ve yet to dive in too deeply until Debtors. But by the midpoint of this five-song EP, when I got to the zippy math rock riff, tasteful screams, and stomping chorus of “Self Poortraits”, I was more than ready. The debut release from Akron, Ohio’s En Garde, a duo made up of vocalist/guitarist Ross Horvath and drummer Andy Hendricks, is nearly ten years in the making, having been tracked by Hop Along/Algernon Cadwallader’s Joe Reinhart in Philadelphia in 2012. Despite the long gestation period, Debtors thankfully does not sound too over-worked or labored-over. This isn’t to say the EP is slight or lightweight, either—just that En Garde stays remarkably consistent over the record’s five songs, making any chaff hard to identify.
There is a sort of biblical drama to the lyrics and feeling of Debtors that evokes cult heroes mewithoutYou, among others—titling your song “Cri de Coœur” and playing with that scorched-earth style will even give a lyric like “Boy scouts have never seen a knot like the one I have in my stomach” some serious heft. En Garde establish a few other recurring motifs throughout the EP—closing track “Tightropes” takes the math rock hints of “Self Poortraits” and stretches them out for the full length of the song, while both “Self Poortraits” and “Edentulism” feature odd, left-field, brief but remarkable instrumental breaks. It gives the whole thing the vibe of two collaborators throwing ideas at each other and creating something unique and lively, so it surprised me to learn it was Horvath and Hendricks’ first time working together. (Bandcamp link)
Mal Devisa – Wisdom Teeth
Release date: March 2nd Record label: MalDevisaArt Genre: Alt-soul-rock, hip-hop (among others) Formats: Digital Pull track: JD’s tune/The Spring
Wisdom Teeth arrived early this month with little fanfare, which seems to be Mal Devisa’s modus operandi at the moment. However, “little fanfare” doesn’t apply to the music within at all—there’s a bit of everything here. While Devisa is no stranger to genre-hopping (I’m thinking of “Raised in the Pit” and “You Are My Sunshine” coexisting on 2018’s Shade and the Little Creature), Wisdom Teeth is a particularly dynamic album, with forays into roaring rock, soul, hip-hop, synthpop, and jazz. Album opener “JD’s tune/The Spring” is a breathtaking dramatic guitar workout that recalls Double Double Whammy-era Mitski. Right after that, however, we get “Round Midnight/Pack for Free”, a noise pop song led by a simple, piercing riff as Devisa’s vocals fight for equal weight (“One ear doesn’t work. First attempt at Recording myself” reads the song’s Bandcamp description).
The road keeps twisting from there. “Melanin Like Sunrise” makes a musical reference that most readers of this blog will recognize and combines it with lo-fi beats and a verse by Amherst rapper Kyalo, and then Devisa herself spits in “Old Intro”. The jittery groove of “The Room Is Spinning/Rough” is hypnotic, and shockingly doesn’t even get to the main hook until around the song’s final minute. The strongest point of the album is a three track run in its second half, starting with the bass-and-keys soul number “Dangerous” and continuing into a straight cover of the jazz standard “You Go to My Head”. The third of the three, the triumphant “Skyline Arms/Reach Out”, with its lifting keys and some of Devisa’s best vocal work, would be an obvious closing song. Devisa doesn’t make it so easy, however, instead ending Wisdom Teeth with the ruminative, minimal bass-driven “I Could Tell” followed by eight minutes of a drum machine loop. It’s not an album that’s willing to slot itself neatly into one category, but Wisdom Teeth will give you a lot to enjoy over its runtime. (Bandcamp link)
Russel the Leaf – Then You’re Gunna Wanna
Release date: February 26th Record label: Self-released Genre: Psychedelic pop, power pop Formats: Cassette, digital Pull track: Classic Like King Kong
I have to touch on a couple things on Then You’re Gunna Wanna that lifted Philadelphia’s Russel the Leaf out of the “bands I’ve sort of heard of” pile straight onto this list. The first is sole member Evan M. Marré’s high, ageless voice, which reminds me of Michael Doherty from Another Michael, or Chris Farren. It’s not particularly en vogue to sing like this (unfortunately for me), but it works very well with the kind of music that’s featured on Then You’re Gunna Wanna, which brings me to point two. Marré is a producer, you see, and has accrued several personally eye-catching credits, including albums from the just-mentioned Another Michael and the mentioned-earlier-in-this-post Friendship. As Russel the Leaf, Marré trades in the type of busily beautiful baroque pop that’s frequently associated with producer-musician studio rats. Brian Wilson is an unabashed influence throughout Then You’re Gunna Wanna, and several of the songs also sound like they could’ve come out of a pissing match between Andy Partridge and Todd Rundgren. Marré invites Beach Boys comparisons right from the start with the nautical croon of “Sailin’ Away”, and the strings and vocal theatrics of “Skipping School” giddily continue them. As strong an opener as “Sailin’ Away” is, Marré has the tunes to keep Then You’re Gunna Wanna from being top-heavy, with the pure pop of “Hey! (It’s Alright)” and “Classic Like King Kong”, the confident spooling out of “’Til I Hit the Ground”, and the two-minutes bag-of-tricks indulgence that is “California” highlighting the rest of the record. Like the best albums in this vein, Then You’re Gunna Wanna has grown on me significantly since I first heard it, and as of press time it’s still rising. (Bandcamp link)
The Death of Pop – Seconds
Release date: March 19th Record label: Hidden Bay/Discos De Kirlian Genre: Indie pop, psychedelic pop Formats: Vinyl, CD, digital Pull track: Fade Away
The Death of Pop, a London duo made up of brothers Oliver and Angus James, filter several decades’ worth of psychedelic music through their own lens on their latest album, Seconds. The record falls somewhere between a softer version of nü-shoegaze acts like Gleemer and post-Animal Collective 2010s hypnagogic dream pop, with similar shades of the Beach Boys and Emitt Rhodes. The Cleaners from Venus also appear to be a big influence, which, given how frequently I cite them in these Pressing Concerns pieces, seems to be a good move for bands who’d like to be covered on Rosy Overdrive. Where they differ is in songwriting—the Jameses don’t attempt to ape Martin Newell’s rural English pastoral vibes, instead using similar instrumentation to conjure up a busy, modern late-night-metropolitan feeling.
“Fade Away” sets the stage immediately with sparkling jangly guitar, lilting synths, and copious amounts of reverb. It’s chill, it’s easygoing, not afraid of the dreaded “soft rock” label, and you could easily slip some saxophone into it—and The Death of Pop do, seamlessly, on the album’s title track. “Once Good” sticks out among the album’s second half—here, The Death of Pop ask for your attention just a little more forcefully, with its self-conscious dance pop hook and its simple, effective lyrical plea. And if you like that, “Ready for Us” does it all again nearly as effectively. Not to let us be too content, Seconds does throw as a curveball towards the end—“First Day of Six” sports a driving tempo and fast, syncopated guitar playing unlike anything else on the album, but dressed in the same production as the rest of the record, it doesn’t come off as out of place. While the album might not convert any skeptics to this kind of music, the true believers could do far worse than the tightly-constructed and very well-executed Seconds. (Bandcamp link)
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