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.
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