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.