Little Dragon

Ok I have a confession to make - I've been keeping Little Dragon from you. Not intentionally of course - it's not like I wanted to keep them all to myself or anything of that selfish nature. I just couldn't seem to find the right time to talk about them - should I have mentioned them before their show, knowing it would be sold out if word got out about this fantastic Swedish ensemble? No, I decided, I would write about them after being on the guest list to see them at my favorite venue, the large but intimate El Rey. For weeks I imagined what they would be like - lights, chandeliers, and of course, their sexy, mellow vibes cresting over me in warm waves of deliciousness. But sadly, my fantasies were cut short when will call told me quite abruptly that I was not on the guest list. So I went to Father's Office instead, and drank a decent pint of cider, but despite its filling qualities, there was an emptiness inside me.

It was one that could only have been filled by Little Dragon, a band who emulates the sensual atmospherics of bands like Zero 7, but so chilled they have to be from Sweden, home of artists such as the uber mellow Jose Gonzalez, who has not so incidentally played with Zero 7 and collaborated with Litte Dragon vocalist Yukimi Nagano. In addition, she's also played with fellow Swedes Koop, a jazz electro outfit capable of ridiculously cool and sensual grooves. Machine Dreams, their beatifully, recently released, gorgeously colored sophomore album, is a solid follow up to their 2007 self-titled debut. Though they successfully escape the sophomore slump, the evolution from album to album is subtle. Little Dragon is much more R&B, with more bedroom jams and relaxed grooves, whereas Machine Dreams is crisper and synthier, adding an edginess.

For a decidedly chilled band, they have some surprisingly energetic numbers - I like the jagged, minimalist rhythms of "My Step," with its surprisingly low chorus, as well as the detached, '80s inspired groove of "Looking Glass" which has echoes of New Order and just the right amount of production on Nagano's voice to blur the lines between machine and human. And of course, their calmer numbers resonate well with me, much in the same way that Fink does. "A New," which has the same dramatic feel and haunting arpeggios that characterize Air, though Nagano's vocals are far more soulful than the quasi-ironic accented whisperings of the French duo. But ultimately, it is the mellower songs, that effortlessly capture post coital intimacy, that remain Little Dragon's forte. Songs like "Never Never," and "Blinking Pig," which may appear deceptively minimal, are on second listen, a bit more like the musical equivalent of phyllo dough - paper thin layers of sound that work best when combined together to create a beautifully textured, but still detailed effect.


Thanks for being awesome La La.

Fall Deliciousness - Blind Pilot, The Middle East, Timber Timbre, and News

Over the past couple of years, I've developed some unusual writing habits. These include fueling any writing ventures with chocolate and/or gummi bears, and the annoying tendency to try and write a book in a month. While I am sadly not participating in NaNoWriMo this year (last year's novel remains still partially unwritten), I strongly encourage anyone with any writing inkling to take on the rewarding challenge of writing 50,000 words in November.

In the spirit, however, I have taken on a similarly insane undertaking of writing Quango, 15 Years, a coffee table esque book about a truly awesome label that I just so happened to once work at and one that has made a significant impact in LA's musical history, as well as on the chillout electronica genre. The book should be available by the new year, but you can read about the label responsible for artists such as Zero 7, Koop, and Kruder and Dorfmeister here.

And now for other musical things. What with Halloween and Daylight Savings time kicking in and the fact that I am getting oldish and hermitish and just want to stay in and cook and write, I've started listening to things on the folkier side, though with some definitely creepy undertones.

First off is Blind Pilot, a band that's been on my radar for a while. It would be easy to write off their wistful Northwest folk pop along with the band's dutiful plaid shirts, but their story is interesting and their music is wonderful. The band formed in Portland, Oregon and doing their homestate proud, embarked on a bicycle tour from Vancouver down to the Mexican border, lugging their instruments behind them in homemade cases. Now a six piece touring act with instruments ranging from a cello to a really big xylophone to multiple stringed instruments, the band tours with a van, and I'm glad they do. Their live energy gives the weighted sadness of songs like "The Story I Heard" and "Go On and Say It" a jangly, hopeful edge that may surprisingly inspire foot tapping. While I'm a fan of their album 3 Rounds and a Sound, I had the unique pleasure of falling in love with them all over again after seeing them live. Watching lead singer Israel Nebeker getting up on his toes just straining to reach that note and emotion, the quiet intensity of drummer Ryan Dobrowski, as well as seeing the joy and concentration of the added cellist, as well as the ridiculous dexterity and fluidity of a female multi-instrumentalist, I was touched by the passion of everyone in the band and moved by the fantastic transition from recorded to live.

Read / hear more about their bike tour here.

Around the same time that I crossed paths with Blind Pilot, another band came on my radar from way the hell in Australia, confusingly called The Middle East. In keeping with the more Halloweeeny vein, this band is haunting and almost creepily intimate, with whispers and harmonies comfortably nestling into your ear as warm, acoustic guitars and shimmers of piano wend their way into your ear's inner recesses on songs like "Blood." With a sound that makes me think of simultaneously of Elliott Smith and what I would want to listen to when driving through a snowy expanse, I can't wait for their debut album, but for now, you can finally buy their EP.

And finally, because you're probably feeling deprived of all things dark and creepy with Halloween some 360+ days away, there's Timber Timbre. Hailing from the mystical land of Toronto, Canada, this band understands what it means to be chilled to the core. If ever there was gothic blues, these guys would be it. Singing Smiths like lyrics about all manner of delicious things like blood, death, and crucifixion, Taylor Kirk's voice has a similar guilded tremulousness as Morrissey, which cuts through murky, swampy bluesy guitars and harmonica. Hints of Madeleine Peyroux's unhurried bluesy sound and peculiar voice make their way into Kirk's vocals for music that sounds like the lovechild of Peyroux and Morrissey raised by werewolves. Aptly enough, their self titled sophomore release has some delightfully "True Blood" like moments, notably the Johnny Cash styled "Magic Arrow," and ghostly "I Get Low," ("If I could, I would turn back into dust/ and you look so good to me / I can almost taste it) complete with a lone resonating organ and just the right amount of reverb on Kirk's vocals.

Check out the album here.

Kings of Convenience - Declaration of Dependence

What's not to love about a band who coined the phrase "Quiet is the New Loud" with the release of their 2001 album of the same title? You can almost believe it too as Erlend Oye's voice that's just above a whisper snuggles into and warms every crevice of your ear. I've waxed poetic about Erlend before, enamored with someone who moves about folk pop (The Whitest Boy Alive and Kings of Convenience) as fluidly as he does through electronica (he was the voice on Royksopp's hauntingly sweet "Remind Me.")

His latest release, Kings of Convenience's Declaration of Dependence (due out stateside Oct 20th, Virgin) dares to be even more pared down than past records. Its acoustic sounding to be sure, and I'd almost be tempted to call it underproduced were it not for a perfect crispness that gives this album a chilling "right there in the room with you" feel. The quiet, initmate warmth, as well as its fall release have ensured that Declaration is my autumn soundtrack.

There's a lot of focus on both guitar and vocals, as opposed to the piano of the past, which creates more of a personal, portable vibe. The use of guitar and strings in "Peacetime Resitance" gives that sense of comfort and warmth that comes laying in bed early on a cold morning watching dust motes floating in a ray of sunshine. "Riot on an Empty Street" has Oye's near whispering voice bordering on weepy, with mournful guitar fitting the aptly lonely sounding title. The song that really does it for me, however, is "Boat Behind." Embracing the styles of French jazz guitar, "Boat Behind" is one of the album's janglier songs, and the fiddle adds a lightheartedness that makes you think everything will be alright. By far the most charming part is Oye's echoing when he sings "Winter and spring / Summer and fall/You're the wind surfer crossing the ocean I'm the boat behind." There is a mournfulness to it that is very like that of French cinema, which seems to have a touch of humor no matter how tragic the film, or a touch of sadness no matter how comic.

You can get "Boat Behind" here.

Note: I've waxed poetic about Erlend this entire posting, and haven't given much attention to Eirik Glambek Bøe, the other member of Kings of Convenience who perhaps doesn't possess nearly the same vocal qualities as Erlend but is markedly more attractive. You can watch their charming video, which made me smile, especially because their lighting is exactly as warm and mellow as it should be here.

The Art of the Cover Version - Nouvelle Vague and karaoke

As someone suckled on electronic music, I welcome most well done alternate versions of my favorite songs with open arms, be it remixes or covers. So with that in mind, it may come as quite a surprise that for the longest time, I staunchly refused to participate in karaoke. I believe the words "I hate karaoke," may have even escaped my lips a couple of times.

But then I fell in with a crowd of hardcore karaoke nerds (because those are the best ones to sing with). Every Sunday night, a group of ten to twenty devoted bedroom rockers bare their souls through the medium of karaoke at a divey Bostonian bar on Wilshire. And in that bar without a hard liquor license, something magic happens. These incredibly popular songs are given new life - either in parody or in surprising bouts of serious talent. Aside from the fact that there are elements of the magic and spontenaeity of a live performance (a guy last week brought two harmonicas to accompany Billy Joel's "Piano Man" and Tom Petty's "Last Dance with Mary Jane"), these songs become something completely different and new, both to the singer and to the individual.

So perhaps its fortuitous that the newest Nouvelle Vague album 3 comes out September 15th, just in time for prime karaoke season. The brainchild of French producers Marc Collin and Olivier Libaux, Nouvelle Vague has more than a bit of a karaoke spirit to it. The producers employed French and Brazilian vocalists unfamiliar with the originals to sing bossa nova covers of new wave hits such as Buzzcocks "Ever Fallen in Love," and Joy Division's "Love Will Tear Us Apart." Though there is a large element of kitsch, the songs have staying power do to the use of ingenue like vocals that add a genuine, endearing and sensual quality to songs from a typically darker genre. 3 is a venture away from bossa nova and further into sounds of Americana that is, in my opinon, successful. What I like so much about this album is that many of the original artists do backup vocals for covers of their songs, which lends an air of authenticity to the coquettish female vocals and gives a pretty damn official stamp of approval for all the purists out there.

Possibly my favorite track on this album is the opener "Master & Servant," originally sung by Depeche Mode. The lyrics are sexual in nature, but when paired with the digital production and detached vocals of Depeche Mode, they take on an almost religious connotation. Nouvelle Vague's version is downright intimate, with delicate female vocals curling suggestively around twanging guitars for a version that probably wouldn't make a bad song for a lap dance. The addition of Martin Gore's backing vocals add a bit of the creepiness from the more choral original for a song that smacks with "True Blood" naughtiness and just the right amount of hillbilly appeal. Other supported highlights include Echo and the Bunnymen's Ian McCullough sings backup on the dreamy and echoey "All My Colors."

Not to discredit the songs that are purely Nouvelle Vague, however, which are equally awesome. There is a whiskey gravity in the vocals on "The American" (originally by Simple Minds), and a hilarious childlike simplicity and dawdling pace to the Sex Pistols' "God Save the Queen." On this end of the spectrum, the other standout track is their version of Plastic Bertrand's "Ca Plane Por Moi," which has left me wondering all week if an American bar will have a French song available for karaoke, if I will ever be able to sing as fast as Plastic Bertrand, and if Nouvelle Vague versions of songs will ever make it into the karaoke mix. The integrity of this frantic, French, Ramones sounding original manages to remain intact; the trademark "ooh oohs" and butchered French make the song cute, while the wise interpretation of the song to ska, which still pays homage to punk, helps retain the original's boisterous, free wheeling spirit.

Leesten to zem on Last FM!

Fink - Sort of Revolution (Cinematic Orchestra Remix)

I have to say, as far as remixes go, this is probably one of the lightest hands I've ever seen from the producer's side. My guess is that Cinematic Orchestra loved the song but were hesitant to change much for fear of ruining it. That and the fact that what Cinematic Orchestra does best is quiet, awe inspiring music that chills you to the core with hushed, minimalist electronic production that subtly enhances hushed, beautifully eerie male vocals.
Not that Fink didn't have that sound going for him to begin with. Fink (Finian Greenhall) was born in Bristol (home to a tiny little trip hop band you may have heard of called Portishead); naturally, he was drawn to ambient electronica and was signed to one of my favorite labels Ninja Tune as a trip hop artist. In 2000 however, restlessness and perhaps the realization that he was a prodigy inspired Fink to make the complete changeover to singer-songwriter. He remained signed to the traditionally electronic label (a testament to his talent) despite the distinct organic nature of his new sound. While the genre changeover was extreme, Fink managed to preserve the integrity of his sound. His trip hop work has the same calm and tonal range, and the resonance of the bass from hip hop beats is still present in his full-bodied voice.
"Sort of Revolution" is the title track off of Fink's most recent album and its a fairly accurate representation of the album's rich, mellow autumnal vibe, with the same warmth and depth as Fat Freddy's Drop but distilled down to a solo artist with less jam band and reggae and more acoustic guitar and strings.
While the original "Sort of Revolution" has hints of dub, Cinematic Orchestra remove any traces of it making their remix more somber and focusing on the restrained beauty of violins and piano. This song is frighteningly intimate - every plucking of the guitar resonates as crisply as if it were in the same room as you, and Fink's voice is luxurious and low. The effect is that of being drawn into an incredibly comfortable bed on a cold day, sinking into a down comforter until you're completely enveloped. Not unpleasant in the least, but you better be ready to stay there for awhile.

LISTEN.

I like the lyrics for this song as well. . .

Weepy Williamsburg

One of the downfalls about being a professional music reviewer is that sometimes, music becomes work. One of the sad things about being a recreational music reviewer is that to escape / procrastinate writing about work music, I find myself blogging about fun music. But if it wasn't for procrastination, I likely wouldn't have created a blog to begin with; and so I find myself guiltily blogging about some great new indie rock when I'm meant to be writing about a New Age album that shall remain nameless.
Perhaps it's my recent trip to New York and the fact that a significant portion of my time there was spent melting with all the hipsters in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, but all this indie rock is really ahem, striking a chord with me.
I always thought indie rock was more of a fall winter thing but when I hear the weird falsetto, grand sweeping chorus, and U2 like guitar riff of the Temper Trap's "Sweet Disposition," I can't think of anything else I'd want to listen to while I cut my jeans into shorts and roll up the sleeves to my plaid shirt. The fact that it's in the 500 Days of Summer soundtrack probably doesn't hurt either. This burgeoning Australian band is no one trick pony either - while they still employ the falsetto vocals on some of their songs, the imminently catchy "Fader," has the bounce of classic Jimmy Eat World with a bit more of the delicacy you'd expect from a group of guys this skinny.
Then there is The XX. Hailing from London, this band's music is the stuff mixtapes are made of. If you ignore the fact that they're all 19, their music is perfect soundtrack for a seduction already lubricated with Pabst Blue Ribbon. Notably is "Islands", which boasts a sentimental duet with trembling female vocals and rich male vocals. The cool, understated guitar resonates with the same vibe as the king of cool and understated (as well as King of Convenience member) Erlend Oye, complete with, god yes, New Wave synth accents.
Lastly comes a discovery made at an honest to God Williamsburg barbecue - the Dodos. The band is signed to New York's own Frenchkiss Records and have positively delighted me with their dependably indie rock. Songs like the homespun "Undeclared" create a sense of familiarity and comfort, not unlike the music of Juno, while "Fools" resonates with echoey harmonies that perfectly offset urgent acoustic guitar bashing.
So make a little iPod playlist, rethink your seasonal music choices, and enjoy slapping mosquitoes and sweating out the end of summer to these cool indie sounds - I know I sure will.

Getting a bit Senti-metal: Anvil, Guns N' Roses

Ok, so a blog about metal music is likely the last thing I would expect from me. But hey, it's my blog's one year birthday (!!!) and I think I'm entitled to branch out into some uncharted territories here.

I have to back this up by saying the urge to keep rocking harder is not a new sensation. I flirted with hardcore rock in high school (and admittedly the boys who liked it), and the urge for dance music comes from that same primal place of wanting a rhythm to shake you to your core and make you move in uncontrollable ways, not unlike an addict wanting a more intense experience. It is for this precise reason that on the rare occasion that I choose to embarrass myself at karaoke that I always fall back on Guns N' Roses "Sweet Child of Mine." While I don't think I will ever be a rockstar, for those few moments that I get to yell in my best cracking falsetto, shake out my mane, and play some air guitar that would only be improved by more beer, I get that satisfying whiff of what it must be like to truly rock. And it's AWESOME.

So it was only appropriately that tonight I should go see Anvil: The Story of Anvil, a touching tale about a metal band that had all the ingredients for success but whose souffle never rose. It was poignant, funny, and shed a glaring backstage light on a rock band with thirty years of history.

But the uglier, unflattering side of rock can be beautiful sometimes and that's where metal comes in. I loved the raw electric energy of Anvil's "Metal on Metal," with it's shredding guitars that would undoubtedly leave my ears ringing post gig, and the deliciously creepy vocals of Lips Kudlow that were punctured with deeply soul shaking animal growls.

And as I watched footage of these (mostly male) audiences clad in black and rocking out harder than I probably have in my life, I sort of got it. While it may be unlikely that I will ever reach the level where I start following acts such as Bone Gnawer, I respect what fathered this urge to rock and have to give kudos to anyone who has the delicate ear to hear the subtleties among the subgenres of metal and give themselves up to such an honest, raw place.

In addition to that, I think there's something to be said for the metal audience (again, coming from my somewhat limited experience) as the general tendency to assume that metal is mean music (which some of it may very well be). I'm going to go so far as to say that I think metal might actually make people nice. Having something like metal as such a controlled healthy outlet for anger and agression, I think it ends up being the musical equivalent of a punching bag. I mean, I've met my fair share of assholes who listen to Jack Johnson so why can't it work the other way around? The members of Anvil came off as stand up, even sweet (and often sensitive) guys, and I'd say they were an exception to the rule except that the few individuals I know who are into "scary" music happen to be some of the kindest people I know.

So perhaps it's time to not be quite so afraid of the dark. Or at least recognize its redeeming qualities.

For some serious metal connosseurship from a seriously nice guy, check out Cerebral Metalhead.

Sonos at Banana Republic (album Sonos Sings)

It's rare that a concert blows me away. I can go to a gig, have a good time, but to leave a concert steeped in the flavor of the music to the point where I leave and tell people "ohmygodyouhavetoheartheseguystheyreamaaaazing," well, that's a less frequent occurrence. But there was just so much about this event that really set it apart from other concerts. An acapella group singing covers of lesser known pop artists such as Jazzanova and Bird and the Bee at Banana Republic? Well, at least I knew it would be different. And it was a pretty cool branded experience as well - I know I'll think differently next time I walk into Banana Republic.
There, amid this season's shorts and brightly colored T-shirts, something amazing happened. A group of six young people who could have been going out to dinner, shopping, or doing any other mundane thing began producing an incredible range of meticulously arranged sounds to reproduce some old and new favorites. Their single is the brilliant, crystalline remake of Radiohead's "Everything in it's Right Place," with all the originally digital atmospherics sounding slightly less creepy but no less precise when created organically. Their version of The Bird and the Bee's "Again and Again" showed a keen ear for selection as well. The original lends itself very well to acappella arrangement and is given new life and a greater sense of engagement with vocals interpreting Greg Kurstin's skillful production.
Their cover of The Jackson 5's "I Want You Back" was artfully arranged and remarkably relevant but the two songs in their set that really sold me were ones whose originals I wasn't familiar with but visited after. Their version of Bon Iver's "Re: Stacks" captures the whispery essence of it nicely, but in making the lead vocals female makes it crisper and adds a girlish sweetness that would make it perfect in for one of those heart wrenching scenes in Grey's Anatomy or Garden State. But my absolute favorite was their version of Jazzanova's "Little Bird" (and upon listening to the original I have to give a lot of credit to Jazzanova where it's due.) Sonos manages to capture the warmth and fullness of the strings backing Jose James rich, buttery (yes, I said it!) vocals while putting a more ponderous spin on it.

Their debut is slated to be released September 15th on Verve, but I highly recommend catching a live show - it's truly an experience and brings the group to life as artists in their own right, as opposed to the cool novelty they happen to be as well.

Hear stuff on MySpace!

Just Jack's "All Night Cinema" and Miike Snow's "Miike Snow"

I'm a big fan of pairings - wine and cheese, beer and sausage, cookies and more cookies. . .Some things just work all the better when they have a little friend. The same can definitely go for albums. Much as I like to listen to songs and albums over and over again until I never want to again for that week, there's something nice about the groove created by two albums that have complimentary flows and vibes. Plus, you still get to enjoy the obsessive continuity of listening to an entire album. Such is the case for two fantastic recent releases, Just Jack's All Night Cinema, and Miike Snow's self titled debut. Both albums share a certain disco influenced grooviness paired with vocals that have the restraint of indie rock for a musical experience that lives between chill and dancey.
To be fair, this is not my first time extolling Just Jack, but All Night Cinema truly deserves its own rant. With his tongue in cheek and obviously accented rhymes, Jack Allsopp (aka Just Jack), has often been likened to the Streets. Having enjoyed much less success, that is where the similarities end. Whereas Mike Skinner's lyrics speak of growing up in urban London, Allsopp's are a bit more emotional and much less angsty. The album kicks off with the jaunty string laden "Embers," which ebbs and flows into some truly lovely cinematic crescendos. It's immediately followed by the micheviously jaunty "253," that has the same effect on me as the carefree sounds of Badly Drawn Boy. There's the same prominent use of strings with the addition of the harmonica and carefree whistling to set the tone for lyrics like "over years the love receeded / a bit like her old man's hairline." Delving deeper into the disco spectrum are foot tappers like the amusing "Doctor, Doctor" and "Goth in the Disco," but one of my favorite songs (that incidentally sounds most Streets-like) is the mellower sounds of "Blood." With a recessed hip-hop beat and lyrical content hinting at some seriously fucked up family issues, there's a a cool sinister edge to Allssopp's sound that reminds me of those songs of his that grabbed me to begin with.
The disco beats and male vocals of All Night Cinema make a smooth transition into Miike Snow's excellently produced self-titled debut. Though seemingly novices on the scene, these Swedes have written and produced for the likes of Kylie Minogue, Madonna, Britney Spears, and Daniel Merriweather, alongside producer legend Mark Ronson. Not bad for street cred. And it doesn't hurt that the album is pretty fantastic - I think their sound is something like a cross between the disco-danciness of Jamiroqaui combined the orchestral pop of Arcade Fire and a bit of house music effects thrown in. I'm actually a fan of the entire album as a continuous listen (which is rare), but I think the first three songs are absolutely killer. There is the lilting, undisputable single "Animal" that begs to be accompanied by a light show and oversized shades. It's followed by "Burial," which is echoey, dripping, hipster bliss, much in the same vein as Animal Collective, with those grand sweeping bits that makes everyone go nuts when they hear Arcade Fire. But the song that gets me everytime is "Silvia." It has a ton of film and TV potential emotionally and sonically, though lyrically it won't do much, so I think it's a song destined to be enjoyed for the sake of enjoyment. It's echoey and space with heady synths and sounds; but despite the electronic-ness of it, there's the Coldplay type piano which grounds it in pop, as well as aching wistful vocals that make you love Silvia just a little bit too.


Just Jack on MySpace
Miike Snow on Last FM
Bunch of free Miike Snow mp3s and remixes!!

Anil Chawla & Dale Anderson - "Minimalize"

So as a former English major and current geek, I have to say I've always been a big fan of onomatopoeia (though not spelling it). Tracks with simple names like "Minimalize" that are, well, minimal house, just tickle my linguistic sensibilities, in addition to my eardrums.
It's been awhile (or at least according to my blog) that a new house track has really grabbed my attention, and at first listen, I thought this song was some mid 90's classic that I had just discovered. It had those echo-ey blips, open soundscapes and lush trumpets that I've come to associate with a niche market of music only still popular among ex DJs in the UK and Germany and fifteen year olds on ecstasy with far too much day glo jewelry.

So it was to my delight when I found out that Anil Chawla & Dale Anderson's album Roadhouse came out just a couple months ago on none other than Global Underground, one of the labels still delivering quality house music to that few still devoted to headphones and vinyl. These are the guys who will spin for you on a Monday night, and do their duty lugging their records between Ibiza and Miami for the ones achieving enlightenment through partying.

Roadhouse's album cover basically says it all with its simplistic design of undoubtedly airbrushed closeups of the two DJs' faces. Because after going to countless clubs all over the world, I've come to the conclusion that that's what electronic music is most of the time - two regular looking guys in jeans, T-shirts, and killer sneakers given supreme powers due to decks, laptops, lights, and whatever you're on at the moment. And when you hear a track like the sparse yet solid groove of "Minimalize," you can hear that same understated house magic transforming an empty warehouse into a pulsating mass of people having the best night of their lives, which is all anyone ever wants when they go out anyways.


Anil Chawla
You better believe he's wearing shades in multiple photos.

Dale Anderson
Clearly having a sexiness competition with Anil.

Merci, France!

As a French speaker, I feel as though I've spent a disproportionate amount of time singing the praises of my adoptive culture (the British) while neglecting my butter loving (!) chain-smoking family. Despite my lack of attention, I will officially go on the record and say that in addition to being responsible for some seriously decent music (as well as unparalleled decadent desserts), the French are on the forefront when it comes to music discovery, with labels like Kitsune being an excellent example. Their compilations are consistently light years ahead of the US and manage to blend tomorrow's sounds into a pastiche of hipness that tend to inspire dancing and bouts of obsessive music hunting and buying.

As it turns out, this month just so happens to be one fraught with artists that Kitsune pioneered. Artists like artist Phoenix, whose next album Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix is dropping within the next couple months. What bad can you say about a band where member Laurent Brancowitz once collaborated with everyone's favorite French dance musicians Daft Punk? It's clear that these two acts were friends - Phoenix consistently churns out synthy 80's indie pop with a surprising amount of sweetness that move fluidly through the gamut of emotions while remaining comfortably in the genre. From the super jangly "Listzomania" and the jagged "1901," to the more atsmospheric and cinematic "Love Like a Sunset (Parts 1 and 2)" the whole album reminds me why I loved this band to begin with.

And then there is British artist La Roux; sexy, synthy, paraded about the Kitsune compilations and with such hot remixers that they might as well be as French as their name. This duo coaxes sounds deep and dark from their synths, reminiscent of Depeche Mode, but with cool detached female vocals to make them sound infinitely more sensual. Their singles "Quicksand" and "In the Kill" are solid tunes; however, someone at either Kitsune or Polydor (their domestic label for the forthcoming 2009 release) is doing some killer A&R because each remix released thus far truly showcases a different element of La Roux's sound.

Mad Decent do a great reworking of "Quicksand" really framing Eleanor Jackson's vocals, while the autoKratz Drags to Riches remix takes the tune to the dancefloor with a driving electro rhythm that belongs in a set with dirty Frenchies such as Sebastian, Justice and the like. "In the Kill" is a mellower, angstier song, driven deeper by the silvery touch of producer Lifelike whose remix allows the synths to roll through like sweet love, while Skream's "Let's Get Ravey Remix" is an intense soul searching end of the night / early morning hazy trip hop perfection.

Phoenix "1901"

La Roux remixes

Ryan Bingham - "Southside of Heaven"

Well shucks, I know his album Mescalito came out in 2007, which is ancient in record time, but as Ryan Bingham is playing Coachella this year, I wanted to give some loving to my favorite Marlboro man and the only country singer I've ever loved.
Which is a big deal, considering I have never liked country. I used to be one of those "anything but country" people until I had the good sense to learn that I didn't care much for metal music, Tuvan throat singing, and a whole bunch of other stuff that might not make it into the average person's (or even average music lover's) music collection.
But Ryan Bingham was different. I was introduced to his music through a deal he did with Stitch's jeans and surprisingly, electronic label Quango, who released his first EP. One listen to his cigarette tinted voice and kick ass bluesy guitars and I suddenly found myself wondering what it would be like to go on a road trip through middle America in the truck I didn't have, and if a Jewish girl from LA and a cowboy from Texas could possibly be happy together.
Lucky for me, Ryan Bingham came to play Canter's Kibbitz Room (coincidence? I think not!) and for some reason, I managed to accrue a gang of about eight people to see a country singer-songwriter they had never heard of. And it was - well, not magical as that's not a masculine enough word for it, but the male, cowboy equivalent of a magical prom night. Bingham was every bit the cowboy he sounded - from Texas, Bingham spent a good amount of time traveling the rodeo circuit and picked up some of his guitar skills from his Mexican neighbor (as can be heard on "Boracho.") Tall and slim, he wore cowboy boots and a cowboy hat and could likely be found outside smoking what I'm sure were Marlboro Reds, which, when combined with whisky gave his voice a gravely depth much more than his twenty something years.
Much as I love the album I think "Southside of Heaven" was really what stood out and sold me. He is completely genuine, growling heartfelt lyrics about life on the road which, though they have nothing to do with me, are touching in their earnestness and sense of yearning which always sounds a bit more honest set to country. In addition to a lot of heart, there is some serious talent backing this song. Nothing electronic, just some excellent guitar picking, harmonica, and cheeky banjos with the well placed whine of the sadly underused slide guitar.
So if you have a chance to catch this desperado under the open sky of the Indio desert, I would highly recommend it. Shy of going to Texas, it's as authentic as you can get and likely just as rewarding.

Wide open MySpace

Sepia toned video of Ryan and his git-tar that couldn't be more perfect.

Emiliana Torrini

When I was at summer camp (right after the fourth grade), I decided to showcase my burgeoning singing skills at a solo performance at the talent show in front of the swimming pool. My plan was to sing some pop ballad karaoke style and wow everyone with my dulcet tones. As soon as the first strains wafted over the expectant crowd, my jaw locked and my eyes began to tear.
"Are you gonna sing?" asked the smarmy kid in the front row in Hawaiian shorts. He was a fifth grader. I shook my head, terrified. "Are you gonna cry?" he prodded with unmasked glee. I nodded, eyes brimming and ran off stage, where I spent the remainder of the talent show watching everyone else perform their brilliant and well rehearsed pieces.
That brief moment was perfectly reflective of my career as a singer, which is why whenever I see exceptionally talented female artists/singer-songwriters, which seems to be the case as of late, I find my appreciation slightly tinged with envy. Such was the case tonight as I watched the lovely and Icelandic Emiliana Torrini.
I was introduced to the songstress through her vocalist work with Thievery Corporation, her charmingly and ambiguously accented voice fluttering above the DC duos world dub beats. So it was to my great pleasure when I received her sophomore effort Me and Armini and found nearly the entire thing to my liking.
The more I find out about Emiliana, the more I like her. She has an impressive resume; she was a member of electronic outfit GusGus, has toured with the likes of Moby and Dido, and garnered a Grammy nomination for co-writing and producing Kylie Minogue's "Slow," which is a killer pop track, and released her trip hop debut Love in the Time of Science on Virgin in 1999. Knowing all of this, it comes as something of a surprise that Me and Armini is a rather successful departure into folk waters, though there are clear influences of reggae, trip hop and jazz in different songs. Her voice, which is sweet and, according to those with more technical knowledge than me, of limited range lends itself well to an organic, unplugged sound and the overall effect is lovely and feminine, but in such a way that it becomes quickly clear that she is most definitely a musician. And she quietly rocks.
In the intimate and somewhat surreal setting of the Standard Hollywood's Cactus Lounge, Emiliana quietly introduced each song in her acoustic set, explaining the songwriting process. Poised as she was as a singer, she (quite adorably) shied away from the mike, fidgeting bashfully as she explained that she had no recollection of writing the title track, and that Armini was a friend that she had made in her whiskey. Liquid inspiration or not, "Me and Armini" remains one of the strongest tracks on the album, backed with reggae rhythm guitars for a more exotic sound. She was kind enough to play some of my other favorite tracks from the album, introducing the cautious and pared down "Big Jumps" as a song for people to who were brave enough to be happy. But the song that truly moved the crowd (and coincidentally is one of the album's singles) was the fast paced and buoyant (at least in comparison to the rest of the album) "Jungle Drum." It is indeed a love song, and made all the more endearing by the fact that she acknowledges that it is nowhere near poetry, before going on and singing the onomatopoeia of the jungle drum beat with all her heart.

Check her MySpace.

Zee Avi - self-titled album and March 27, 2009 Hotel Cafe Show

Being positively inundated on a day to day basis with singer-songwriter submissions, I've taken a jaded approach to the genre, admittedly being much quicker to decide I'm unimpressed by a guy/girl and their guitar. Which is why I was doubly impressed with Zee Avi and the fact that she grabbed my attention so quickly and kept it. As soon as I heard her sweet, and almost childishly simplistic single "Bitter Heart," which effortlessly and cheerfully touches on that delicate post heartbreak state I was immediately compelled to find out as much about her as possible and acquire her album.
There is a calmness and ease in her music that I usually associate with prolific surfer turned platinum artist Jack Johnson. Which makes sense, as the Malaysian singer songwriter is currently signed to his Brushfire Records label. Brushfire was started so that Jack Johnson and his mellow (and undoubtedly hot) surfer friends could put out music they liked. To date, Zee Avi is the only female solo artist on the label and I'm happy to say she can hold her own with the boys and remains one of my favorites on the label.
As it turned out, Zee Avi happened to be playing at the wonderfully intimate Hotel Cafe tonight which is one of my favorite venues - small, dark, and red, it's so cozy it could probably make sex up mediocre music, though I've only seen really good artists there. Hotel Cafe magic or not, Zee Avi was simply delightful. She was as poised in her banter as in her music, and the transition from talking to singing barely registered in her voice, which in my opinion, is a mark of a singer who has found their true singing voice. She moved with ease between the guitar and the ukulele and treated the audience like a living room full of friends she had just given a hug to, which quite frankly, I just might have done if I had the chance to embarrass myself.
Though her entire set was lovely, with her jazz tinged acoustic numbers boasting just the right amount of charm and poignancy and sounding every bit as crisp as the recorded versions, the crowning jewel to me were her covers. A well placed cover, especially an unexpected one, can tell you a lot about an artist's tastes and influences, and woo you with the familiarity doctored by the artist's personal style. Zee Avi has an unexpected taste for the post punk gothic sound I'm so obsessed with; she performed Morrissey's "First of the Gang to Die," as a wistful ballad, which appears on her album. What surprised me, however, was the gorgeous rendition of Interpol's "Slow Hands" that, when slowed down and stripped away of guitars with distortion, showcased the lyrics, which are quite poetic.
As I haven't been this excited about a female solo artist since Adele, I can only hope that Zee Avi's career takes a similar arc as she continues to quietly rock.

Hear what all the buzz is about.

Joy Division / New Order / White Lies

I saw the film Control last night for the first time. Despite being rather depressing, this movie brought me a serious amount of joy. After four years in the music industry, and one of those being in Manchester, there was something that struck home. The classic record deal, the rolling Northern English accents, and the black and white portrayal of rain, pints, cigarettes, and dank underwhelming venues all touched my heart.
And that's really what the post-punk and Manchester music scene are really about to me - a rainy, dark, gloomy sound from a rainy, dark, gloomy place and born out of the raw, often angry, and always angsty punk scene. Having a broad range of music to listen to and being easily influenced by sounds, I find it difficult to listen to angsty music all the time. That being said, when a melancholy mood strikes, I relish being able to wrap myself in glorious Mancunian gloom, wear extra eyeliner, and revel in rich croonings from across the pond.
"Control" reminded me of my first affair with "Love Will Tear Us Apart" - the song that first piqued my interest in Joy Division (before I knew they had anything to do with New Order). Though there is that vaguely tinny production sound that is present in all of Joy Division's songs and most punk from before their era for that matter, there is a sweetness to it that I find more reminiscent of New Order. Beneath the guitars, you can hear the almost naive and hesitant synth backing it, showing the evolution of the band's sound towards what New Order would become famous for, even before the death of Ian Curtis.
It was that emotional border between post punk and dance music that caused me to fall in love with New Order's "Temptation" (on a dancefloor no less), long before I understood what Manchester music, Factory Records, or the Hacienda were really about. And as a pop music whore, I'm happy to say I hear that same sound evolving in artists like Hot Chip, Cut Copy, and Friendly Fires.
And while I may lean more towards the New Order sound than the Joy Division sound in my everyday listening, I have a selective collection of artists I save for gloomy days. These limited spaces are occupied by the likes of (Joy Division of course), Interpol and Editors, and this year, I was thrilled to add White Lies to that list. Though they're Londoners, they site Northerners like Joy Divsion and Echo and the Bunnymen as influences, and I think they easily do justice to their predecessors. One listen to Harry McVeighs somber vocals singing songs entitled "Death," and "Lose My Life," (my fav) with creepy echoes, heavy distortion and foggy echoes and I had found my new depression obsession. And I'm not the only one - the amount of buzz accumulating for this band, in addition to their playing both SXSW and Coachella this year makes me think that they're poised for success, and likely in multiple realms due to a slew of of singles and remixes strategically released into the blogosphere. Like their post punk turned dance predecessors, White Lies' gloom lends itself to dance rhythms as well, notably Rory Phillips' disco tinged dancefloor stormer remix of "Farewell to the Fairgrounds."
So if you're going through a breakup, depressed about the recession, or maybe just in a bad mood, instead of trying to fight it, embrace it, spend some time on iTunes and Hype Machine and listen to White Lies. If you don't feel better, at least you'll feel better about your decision to stay bummed.


While I don't know when White Lies' US debut To Lose My Life is slated to release, I can only imagine/hope that it will be at some point prior to their upcoming US tour. It doesn't even say on their MySpace, but I would stay posted. . .

Herve & Kissy Sell Out "Rikkalicious"

I have to give kudos to a mix by none other than the DJs of Manctastic club collective known as Shoplifters for turning me onto this tune and reminding me that house music is my heartbeat. While I was already familiar with Kissy Sell Out for his prolific remixing and independent record label holding, I knew nothing of Herve. After doing a little research (ahem, looking at his Myspace page) I discovered his more familiar alter ego The Count, whose done some work with Sinden. If you've never heard of either, it just means that he's cool.
Regardless, "Rikkalicious" doesn't sound much like either Kissy Sell Out's or Herve's signature ghetto booty beat sounds - though both producers display an ability move throughout the electronic sphere with chameleon like ease.
In the case of "Rikkalicious," the two producers have nostalgically paid homage to the 90's roots of electronic music, when house and trance used to hang out together because they didn't know any better. There is an unabashed and anthemic trance groove in this tune, (tarted up with a bit of analog synths but essentially pure) that make for that orgasmic build up which leads to the inevitable fist pump that is the reason I fell in love with dance music.
Everything about this song is just right from the quirky blippy bit to do a glowstick show (if you're into that sort of thing), to the lush female vocals looped in, true to the disco roots of house. While the club mix provides a heightened dance floor experience, I have to hand it to the hefty 12" mix; clocking in at a lovely 7:26, it allows the listener a perfect amount of time to get into the groove and finishes with an unhurried, blissful outro that acts like a cool down after the adrenaline rush.

Check it.

Kailash Kher - "Dilruba"

I have to thank this discovery to Morning Becomes Eclectic on KCRW. Every time I get too jaded with Morning Becomes Eclectic thinking that I'm too hip/knowledgeable to be impressed by their content, there's a song that comes on leaving me itching to find out the name, and humbling me from backseat DJ back to average listener.
As soon as I heard the first strains of "Dilruba," I was convinced it was Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan song remixed. I turned up the volume and realized that there was no electronic production, and no fancy tricks with the instrumentals; merely playful syncopation, and an undulating rhythm that sounded so fresh I wondered if Nusrat hadn't collaborated with some hip producer towards the end of his life and career.
So it was to my great surprise when I found out that this gem was by Kailash Kher, a succesful Indian pop and Sufi singer today, who is actually a judge for Indian Idol (which is exactly what it sounds like.) True to his sound and his genre, Kailash claims Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan as a great inspiration, which warmed my heart. While I know nothing about Sufi music, I do remember one of the songs that initially got me interested in world music (and remains one of my favorite songs of all time to this day), found on a mixtape given to my parents by a groundbreaking DJ who would later become my boss and mentor.
The song was Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan's "Mustt a Mustt," which grabbed me with the perfectly restrained raw power of Nusrat's vocals, as well as the meditative chanting and a rhythm that I now know sounds a bit like reggae. It's so beautifully calming, I think that when trip-hop legends Massive Attack remixed the original, it was partially out of jealousy for not having recreated the chilled out vibe electronically, despite being chillout masters.
All the elements of a Nusrat tune are there in "Dilruba" - the gently lulling rhythm, tranquil backing chorus and tightly controlled quivering vocals. Yet Kailash's voice is younger, more polished, with a distinctly pop finish, and his instrumental section is fuller and richer. In this case, newer isn't necessarily better than - rather, "Dilruba" is a perfect example of a evolved touches on a traditional genre with a respectful acknowledgment of its master.

Sidenote: I've listened to this at least twenty times today, and each time I listen, I love this song a little more because of its devotional aspect. I find it fascinating that a devotional singer can reach such a level of popularity, especially one so integrated with even the secular side of a culture. While part of me wants to look up the meaning of the lyrics, another part of me (the part of me that will win) doesn't care. There's something primal (and dare I say mystical) about not analyzing and being able to listen to music from another religion (especially one at such odds with my own) and allowing myself only to appreciate its beauty and be moved by whatever parts of it I do understand.

Listen.

Amadou and Mariam - Welcome to Mali (album)

As a commuter, music is essential to my daily experience. Without it, the hours spent in the car can be dull, and feel like wasted time with unsatisfactory snippets of tired songs on the radio, or another hour with an album I've listened to one too many times. Until I come across an album like "Welcome to Mali" - an album so perfect it begs to be savored with motion and an incredible VW Jetta sound system.
Yes, I know that "perfect," is a very lavish term of praise. But I loved "Welcome to Mali" that much. To date, I have spent many hours behind the wheel contemplating just what words to choose to describe this wonderfully bright, happy album which turns something as mundane as a commute into a tolerable, if not enjoyable experience.
I fell in love with this joyous blind couple's music on the Manu Chao produced "Dimanche a Bamako." It had the signautre stamp of Manu Chao, with bold strokes of color, Manu's distinctive nasal backing vocals, and the natural talent and organic sounds of Amadou and Mariam. The album remains one of my favorite albums of all time to this day. Desperate for more, I had a listen to their 1999 release "Sou Ni Tile" which provided a lot of insight into their raw untouched sound - a more traditionally Malian sound with hints of bluegrass and loads of untapped potential, sort of like a naturally beautiful girl who has no idea what she would look like with makeup.
Though produced by Damon Albarn, (who I adore), I was dubious that he could make me love "Welcome to Mali" in the way that Manu Chao made me love "Dimanche a Bamako." Well, I have to give Damon even more kudos - his production is masterful and invisible. The album sounds closer to the folky, bluegrassy sounds of "Sou Ni Tile," but with a fresh coat of gloss.
Every song swells and crackles with life, streaked with reggae, afrobeat, bluegrass, rockabilly.
The album is a joy from start to finish. The sparse, electronic soundspace of "Sabali," with tender lyrics set to crisp beats is unlike anything I've ever heard from them, and sets the tone for an album that shows just the right amount of evolution for a seasoned artist.
Highlights include, "Djuru," which showcases a stunning bit of kora, as well as the romantic, "Je Te Kiffe," (which roughly translates to "I dig you") and has gentle instrumentals framing Amadou's beautifully uneven vocals. It is immediately followed by "Masiteladi," which bursts from the speakers with an incredible rock / blues guitar that is on par with Ry Cooder.
There is also the bouyant foot tapping "Sebeke," which is packed with rhythms, guitars, and quirky electronic bits for a tune so packed with joy and emotion and color that it makes me happy to be alive.

"Welcome to Mali" comes out in the US in March 2009 on Nonesuch Records.
I have no idea if they plan to tour the US, but I sure hope so, as their live concert remains of the most positive concert going experiences I've ever had.

Find out more about them on MySpace.



Correction - it has just been brought to my attention that Damon Albarn only produced "Sabali" while the rest of the album was produced by Marc-Antoine Moreau and Lauren Jais, who have been with the band for a majority of their album. Which means that while the album still rocks thoroughly, it is Marc-Antoine and Lauren, as well as Amadou and Mariam who deserve credit for near perfect evolution.

Natty - Man Like I (album)

Ok so I'm cheating - this album isn't out yet in the US and I don't actually know a release date but I know that has never stopped a savvy music listener from hearing something great. . .
The first thing that struck me listening to Natty's calmly rasping vocals and reggae rhythms was just how much he sounded like Spearhead (who I love.) But I wasn't satisfied just saying "Oh he sounds like Spearhead," and writing him off - I liked the album a little too much to do that, so I set out to figure out what it was that I liked so much about him that differentiated him from Spearhead.After much contemplation and car time, I've decided that what it all comes down to is the weather; and more specifically, warmth.
Spearhead's music is clearly from California - quirky, colorful, and summery. True, he has some more somber songs, but on all his albums, Michael Franti has perfectly crafted songs that are bright to the point of being celebratory and perfectly suited forthe dreadlocked masses to dance barefoot to before going off to eat something vegetarian.
And it's likely that Natty caters to the same crowd. But coming from a freezing place like London, warmth is something that needs to be contained, and likely indoors. The resulting sound is every as bit as warm, but much more intimate and cozy in a "lets huddle by the fire" kind of way as opposed to a "let's go frolic in the sun."
Keeping that in mind, whole debut Man Like I is a really enjoyable listen both pleasant and mellow in a way not unlike Jack Johnson. And within this good album lie a couple of great songs. Notably, the wistfully charming "Coloured Souls." Chillingly intimate and wistful, there is an earnestness to the song that I think can push it past the hippie world and into the pop realm.
Other highlights include "Badman," which boasts a nice bit of scat, and the slightly more urgent "Cold Town."

Estelle ft. Sean Paul - "Come Over"

I know I tend to write about songs or artists that have less exposure in the public domain, but every so often, a top forty song comes along that is so well deserving of its place that not only do I turn up my speakers when it comes on in my car, I sing along to it, and badly.
I fell in love with Estelle's vocals in her collaboration with Kanye West and his killer (and dare we say Daft Punk-esque production) on "American Boy," enjoyed her collaboration with John Legend, and nearly cheered when she unwittingly did me a massive favor and paired up with one of the few and far between crossovers from reggae into mainstream; none other than party starter Sean Paul.
Naturally, I was drawn to Estelle's accent (I can't be too inconsistent) and silvery voice, but I was also impressed by her versatility. I like to think she has the staying power to make it as an R&B songstress, though its admittedly a genre I know nothing about, and she has enough sass and sex appeal to hold her own against the boys of hip hop. Since all of those qualities in a lady do well over bright reggae rhythms, "Come Over" is an excellent track. On the gentler side, there are definite R&B tones, but the hammock friendly rhythms lend it an air of lovers' rock.
Then, over an already excellent track, and in true reggae MC style, Sean Paul's vocals were laid down after the album version of the track was released, like toasting over a dub original for one of those beach jams perfect in the freakishly warm Los Angeles winter.

Currently, the song is only available on the radio, or on demand at Estelle's Myspace.