Radio Free Chicago

An RFC Mix: One Moment I'm A King, The Next Minute I'm Nothing — What Makes Keanu So Sad?

Poor Keanu Reeves. He'll never play a character that's better than Ted Theodore Logan (well maybe Neo ... maybe), he spends his life being stalked by cameras, and even with all his big movie star money, all he has for lunch is a dumb sandwich. No wonder he's so sad. 

In a popular series of photos, we see Reeves sitting on a bench, resting his wrists on his knees with a look of utter dejection on his face. In his hand is a piece of sandwich. The next photo depicts Reeves looking at the piece of sandwich in his hand, as if thinking "this peanut butter tastes off." Another photo still shows the actor licking his finger, with the piece of sandwich in the other hand. 

In all likelihood, Reeves is just enjoying some sandwich time. However, cameras turn it into a different story. Reeves is direly sad, alone, his only pleasure a pathetic sandwich. He eats it, bored on a bench with nobody to talk to. Alone. All alone, dressed like a raincloud. Sad, sad, sad Keanu.

And since Photoshop isn't just for professionals anymore, the Internet went wild. Sad Keanu developed into a great meme, placing Reeves into various depressing scenarios, like eating a sandwich next to a smiling Ronald McDonald or being the big downer at the center of "The Last Supper." And the sadder he looks, the better. Keanu may be sad, but the meme is just a delight.

We may never know what Reeves was thinking that day on the bench, or later that time with the helmet, or when he effectively recreated Sad Keanu with a cupcake. But next time you're scrolling through your Sad Keanus, listen along with this mix of sad songs for possibilities of what really makes Keanu so sad.

One Moment I'm A King, The Next Minute I'm Nothing

What Makes Keanu So Sad?

A Radio Free Chicago Mix

Lou Barlow - Legendary

Herman's Hermits - End of the World

Amos Lee - It Started to Rain

Timber Timbre - I Get Low

An RFC Mix: Hey Girl, I Could Just Stare At You Forever — Soundtrack To A Fantasy Boyfriend

Having a boyfriend is hard work. They eat your food, sleep in your bed, spend your money on cars and video games, occasionally find other people more attractive than you, and distract you from perfectly good movies with coitus.

That's why Fuck Yeah, Ryan Gosling is such a dear part of our lives. A fantasy boyfriend who says all the right things, but you don't have to put up with his mantics. When you see those words, "Hey Girl," it's like a lavender bath for your brain. Don't you just hear him saying it in your head? All soft and sexy-like? I don't know about you, but it placates me.

I don't even have a celebri-crush on Gosling. Well, maybe a little when I saw "The Notebook." Try to tell me he wasn't, like, batshit perfect in that movie. And he's not really bad to look at, either. And he seems like a really cool, sweet guy. Based on appearances, I'm not entirely sure he ISN'T the perfect man.

As a meme, various photos of Gosling are posted along with phrases he would say if he were into you in a bad way. "Hey Girl, Since Tumblr's been down, I wrote twenty songs about how great your hair smells"; "Hey Girl, Sure the hallway fight in 'Inception' was awesome, but why are you so gaga about Joseph Gordon-Levitt? I mean, what does he have that I don't? I'm not jealous. I swear. He's a good actor, but I mean....I'm not jealous"; "Hey Girl, Sometimes I get so sad when we can't watch 'Golden Girls' together."

Gosling may be the dude to end all dudes, or he may just be a fresh and funny meme. And what enhances a meme better than a mix to go along? Replete with some sweet romance, boy band action and mood music, this mix might just be your next fantasy boyfriend.

Hey Girl, I Could Just Stare At You Forever

Soundtrack To A Fantasy Boyfriend

A Radio Free Chicago Mix

Griffin House - The Guy That Says Goodbye to You is Out of His Mind

Evan and Jaron - Crazy for This Girl

Dean Martin - Cuddle Up a Little Closer, Lovey Mine

Semisonic - 'Til There Was You

New Kids on the Block - Stare At You

RFC Reviews The Wild Hunt by The Tallest Man On Earth

 On May 27, 1963 Bob Dylan released his second studio LP, The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan, to much critical acclaim. Opening track “Blowin’ In The Wind” would go on to become the hippie national anthem and the most influential protest song ever written. Freewheelin’ spawned four other singles, and was eventually chosen as one of fifty albums to be added to the Library of Congress’ National Recording Registry.

Blowin' In The Wind - Bob Dylan

Since Freewheelin’s release countless artists have attempted to copy what made it so wonderful, but few have succeeded. Kristian Matson aka The Tallest Man On Earth’s sophomore LP The Wild Hunt is one of the few that does. Everything about Kristian, from his voice to his guitar playing, to the way he crams multiple syllable words into single breaths without making it sound awkward, evokes pre-Bringing It All Back Home Bob Dylan. All that’s missing is the harmonica.

The reason The Wild Hunt succeeds at evoking the spirit of Freewheelin’ is that instead of trying to invent or copy a style of playing, Kristian attempts to be as timeless as possible. The Wild Hunt is a record you can imagine listening to in the sixties or even earlier, back when the acoustic guitar was first invented. It’s a record that transcends time itself. This makes The Wild Hunt both modern and hopelessly dated. It’s a contradiction that sounds silly on paper but makes perfect sense when you listen to it.

Folk music is to the white man what rap is to the black man. It doesn’t matter how sloppy the instrumentals or vocals are or how low quality the recording is, the only thing that matters are the lyrics. And although The Wild Hunt has wonderful aesthetics, once you start paying attention to the lyrics it’s quite a let down.      

An Open Letter To Ice Cube

Dear Ice Cube,

 Back in the late eighties/early nineties you were the edgiest rapper alive. You were the brains behind NWA's Straight Outta Compton, the first and best gangster rap album. Your debut album, AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted, is one of the most critically acclaimed and controversial albums of the nineties. Your sophomore LP, Death Certificate, was even more controversial. The media accused you of being misogynistic, racist, and anti-Semitic.

Your next LP, The Predator, wasn’t as strong as your previous three LPs and EP Kill At Will, but it was still a good album. Sure, it wasn’t edgy, but it was full of great tunes. It was your most commercially successful album. Fans, critics, and the media were all pleased.

Check Yo' Self - Ice Cube

But then you began to lose your edge, Cube. Your next five LPs blew chunks, and your newest LP I Am The West is the most neutered, boring, rap album I’ve ever heard. I feel like my ears are deceiving me. The same man who wrote “True To The Game”, a song about not selling out, is now directing a shitty sitcom and acting in family friendly comedies.

Here’s the thing Cube, everybody knows your gangster persona is an act. You’re not a real gangster, you’re an entertainer. Listening to you intelligently rap about controversial issues and piss off ignorant moral gaurdians was entertaining. From 1988-1991 you were the edgiest artist alive. Now you're a walking punchline. You’ve lost your cool. You've melted your edges. You’re no longer Ice Cube. You’re Water Puddle.

I imagine you’ve become who you are for your kids and wife. It’s touching that you love them Puddle, but just because you want to be more family friendly doesn’t mean you have to stop making great art. Remember Friday? It’s one of the greatest movies ever made, and your kids could totally watch it. It teaches a great lesson.

What happened to your awesome action movies like Boyz In The Hood, Three Kings, and XXX: State of the Union? Since 2007 you’ve starred in nothing but crappy comedies. Why not be the black Jason Statham? Teenagers love action movies. When your kids become teenagers, they’ll love them too.

As a general rule, family sitcoms are unfunny. Somehow, Are We There Yet manages to be spectacularly unfunny. So bad it’s bad. I’m not going to call you a bad writer, Puddle, because you’ve written some excellent raps, but you’re an awful screenwriter. Your characters are one dimensional. Your conflicts are boring. Your jokes are not funny. Filling out tax returns is more fun than watching Are We There Yet. Tax returns are less predictable.

Just because you’re a family man now doesn’t mean you have to make shitty art. You’ve got talent Puddle. Use it. It’s possible to be edgy without being offensive. It’s possible to be entertaining without being mature. When your kids age I imagine they’ll be as embarrassed of I Am The West and Are We There Yet as you should be. Don’t forget Puddle, you’re an entertainer. Right now you aren’t entertaining anyone, and you won't until you become Ice Cube again. If you continue down the path you've chosen, it won't be long until you evaporate into nothing.

Sincerely,
Clay Riedesel

The Head And The Heart Sways Seattle and Sub Pop

From what I’ve realized, if you don’t live in or near Seattle, you haven’t been exposed to the significant hype over indie-folk sextet The Head and the Heart. Well, to fill you in on what you’ve missed, this group was one of the biggest deals in the Emerald City in 2010, and are now only a bigger deal since they signed to the Sub Pop label in early January.

Formed in 2009, the band has made a quick rise to the scene, releasing its self-titled debut album in June 2010. Since joining Sub Pop, that album has been re-released for digital sales, and is scheduled to be available on CD and vinyl on April 16.

If you love folk music (and since you’re reading RFC, you probably do) The Head and the Heart may be right up your alley. The album carries on with sunny Americana sounds that occasionally merge onto pop or alt-country back roads. Led by guitarists/vocalists Josiah Johnson and Jonathan Russell, the band is made complete with bassist Chris Zasche, pianist Kenny Hensley, violinist Charity Thielen and drummer Tyler Williams. The male vocals layer like carbon paper while Thielen textures the harmonies with her own throaty notes.

It’s a common issue, that heads and hearts don’t tend to agree, so I’m almost inclined to call the group a misnomer. Of all 10 songs on their record, there’s not a conflict to be found. Every musical element threads together like straw into gold. It’s probably not appropriate to call it “easy listening,” but it sure is easy to listen to.

The album opens with “Cats and Dogs” (its shortest song at just under two minutes), introducing the band’s affection for percussion and padded with supple drum thuds. “Coeur d’Alene” pulls up behind it as though hitched to the rear, the final piano chord of “Cats and Dogs” blending finely with the first of its successor. Clocking in at 5 minutes and 40 seconds (the album’s longest song), “Heaven Go Easy on Me” closes the set, rivaling the Moondoggies for Seattle’s current best vocal stack.

The Head and the Heart doesn’t break any new ground with its debut, but holds its own within an already beloved genre. Folk music needn’t stray too far from its own neighborhood to reach the whole community. All it takes is strong songwriting, which the band displays throughout the album. “Rivers and Roads” sits as its centerpiece, a soft acoustic piece that swells magnificently into a billowing compound of all its parts. All 10 tunes are good enough to stick with you for a while, but “Ghosts” is the one that’s left the most residue on my eardrums. Maybe I am a sucker for some rollicking saloon piano, but it’s just a damn fine song with solid energy. “One day we’ll all be ghosts,” sing the voices, “tripping around in someone else’s home.”

 

The Head and the Heart - Ghosts

Overall, The Head and the Heart is an album about changing, including the past we leave behind and the future to which we look forward, not to mention how one feels from point A to point B. As if they weren’t already speaking the universal language of folk, their lyrics have nearly limitless application. If you’ve ever left someone or something behind, if you’ve ever found yourself in places and situations you’ve never been before, or if you think you ever will, the Head and the Heart is singing for you.

 

Tales From the East...Wesley Hartley and The Traveling Trees

There’s something peaceful about driving on the highway at 1:30 in the morning. I’m all alone in a vessel that could kill me without feeling any remorse. White lines fly by me, flickering like static from late night television. I don’t even look at the speedometer. I’m assuming I’m going somewhere around the speed limit based on the sounds coming from the engine of my 1999 ford Taurus. We’ve reached the point of symbiosis where I feel what the car feels, but probably not vice versa. Let’s face it; it’s a hunk of metal, cold and unfeeling. It doesn’t care what I’m feeling, it just wants gasoline. But the pavement below me is causing it to hum in the background. I’m lost. Not geographically. I know exactly where I am. I just passed exit 11 in Merrimack. But my mind is somewhere else. As the streetlight glares on my windshield, acting like hooks pulling my car along, I think about how I don’t want this trip home to end. I want these next twenty minutes to become hours, and days. I’m at peace in the driver’s seat. I choose my music wisely for trips such as this. It makes all the difference in the world to me. On this night, it’s Narrow Gauge Quad Trains by Wesley Hartley and the Traveling Trees. I turn the volume up. Tonight, we head out west.

The first sound that exits my speakers is from “Ol’ Texas”. The galloping guitar and drums are Folsom Prison-esque, but the pace is quickened, and Hartley’s vocals are gritty and world-weary. His lyrics are turning my car into a four-wheeled, traveling saloon. “I sell my horse, and I’ll sell my range. And I’ll hit the trail upon a northbound lane.”  My driver’s seat is a barstool and the grip on my steering wheel is becoming a tight grip on a shot of bourbon. Thanks barkeep. I down my shot as the album moves on to “Jet Fighters” (an early Dead End Armory tune, Hartley’s former band). It slows down the pace as my steed is now moving along at a slow trot across the open plains. I ride through the cacti, six-shooter lazily slung from my hip. Two tracks in and I can see that Wesley Hartley and the Traveling Trees are doing a marvelous job at creating lo-fi, raw alt-country. It fits in perfectly between bands like Songs: Ohia and The Old 97’s.

Wesley Hartley and The Traveling Trees - Ol' Texas

Throughout the album there is a satisfying amount of songs with an amalgam of tempos and structures. At times, I find myself bobbing my head and wanting to stomp my foot, but I realize constant acceleration and deceleration are probably not the best for my automobile. I throw caution to the wind during “Shot n Shots”. My car is now fluctuating in speed, wreaking havoc on the engine. I realize my trusty steed is crying out in pain (and that I’ll probably get pulled over soon) and decide to take it easy on the old boy.  There are other times on the album that I find myself wanting to drown my sorrows in a pint at my local pub. The song “Label Peels” has this cowed feeling to it, but it also happens to be my favorite track on the album. “I went and wasted another month/And held it together with scotch tape/And I have been dreaming a lot these days/Oh, about nothing you would understand”. I feel as if Hartley is in the passenger’s seat as I relay the story of my life, scrawling down these lyrics as he draws inspiration from my tales. But unless he is a pack of gum, I am still alone on this voyage.

Jon Brion Covering Songs I Love... With Cheap Trick! Katy Perry! And More!

If I had to choose one artist to call a genius, it would doubtlessly be Jon Brion. Best known for his scores for such instant-hipster classics as I Heart Huckabees, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and Stepbrothers (Find me a hipster that can't quote John C. Reilly and Will Ferrel's "Did we just become best friends?!" speech and I'll show you a phony). I don't like to throw around the word "genuis" because, quite frankly, I think it gets way overused these days, diluting the meaning, much the way I have qualms with the constant use of "awesome" and "old school", but it's just about inarguable that Brion is deserving of such an accolade as "genius". For evidence, you need look no further than any one of his brilliant scores or any odditie-riddled track he lended his deft production values to. Kanye West's "Golddigger"? That was Brion. Fiona Apple's Extraordinary Machine? That was him, too.

What often goes underappreciated, however, is Brion's amazing solo album, Meaningless. Filled with melodies that stick in your head ("Her Ghost"), eccentric instrumentation ("Walking Through Walls"), and all the clever wordplay that Brion is known for ("Meaningless"), Meaningless is not only one of my favorite cds of the past decade, but one of the best pop albums of all time. Why don't more people adore it? Well, I'll save that for a Wiping Off The Dust, because what's important here is the fact that Brion ends his solo debut brilliantly, with an almost unrecognizably beautiful take on Cheap Trick's "Voices".

Jon Brion - Voices

Cheap Trick is a band I grew up loving, thanks to my dad's amazing taste in rock and roll, so "Voices" was a track I was anything but unfamiliar with by the time I discovered Jon Brion. Even so, I didn't recognize Brion's take on "Voices" until I read an article in which Brion said it was a Cheap Trick cover. At first, I have to admit I was disappointed that the The power ballad bombast and layered vocals of the original have been replaced with a tenderness, exposing the tenderness of the original that was overpowered by heavy handed production before.

Cheap Trick - Voices

Cheap Trick, naturally, isn't the only band Brion has put his fingerprints all over. Recently, a video of Brion turning Katy Perry's "I Kissed A Girl" has been making the rounds on the internet and, true to form, Brion turns the schlocky pop hit into a beautifully quirky tune that wouldn't be out of place in any one of the films Brion's scored over the years.

RFC Drunk Reviews... Tennis: Cape Dory

There are two great things about "RFC Drunk Reviews", the new column which is the brainchild of the as-wonderful-as-she-is-damn-fine Abby Holmes. The first of these aforementioned "things" is the utter hilarity that comes with brutal honesty. Whereas a sober version of Amber Valentine might name an album's strong points as well as it's downfalls, a slightly less-than-sober Amber will instead just say "this kind of blows" and then list the reasons why "this kind of blows". Naturally, you can glean from this that "RFC Drunk Reviews" is mainly going to be the most successful when used as a tool to review albums that we might find "just okay" or "drownright bad" when sober.

The second reason why "RFC Drunk Reviews" is so great is that if you're getting smashed at home alone for the purpose of writing, it doesn't make you look like you have a problem like getting smashed at home alone otherwise would. Alcoholism? No, sir! I'm on the clock!

So, it was decided, that I would try my hand at my first "RFC Drunk Reviews". It was a Thursday night and I'd finished working and had no social plans to speak of so I poured myself a whiskey stronger than one should probably consume, turned on the old iTunes, and began my first RFC Drunk Review with Tennis.

I only knew two things about Tennis before sitting down with their debut, Cape Dory. What I didn't know was whether Tennis was a "she" or a "band". I assume Tennis is a lot like Best Coast, where lead Tennis is the Bethany of the band, only blonder, thinner, and possibly with less pot-riddled lungs. I'm not entirely sure and the beauty of "RFC Drunk Reviews" is that fact checking is not needed. So from here on out, the blonde frontwoman of Tennis will be referred to as Tennis even though she probably has a "trendy in the late '80's" name. Now that we've covered what I don't know about Tennis, I'll tell you what I do know about Tennis and what I do  know about Tennis is as follows: She/They recorded a Daytrotter session that I downloaded by didn't listen to. Also, the album cover is God awful. Seriously. Take a look at that thing. It's like she's trying to look like a hipster version of Olivia Newton John circa Physical. Is it because she really liked Grease? Is it because of her adoration for unnatractive cat suits? Is it all for the sake of irony? Whatever it is, I don't like it. And I don't think I like Tennis either.

Were I less not-sober than I am, I would list technical reasons why I don't like Tennis, most of which would have to do with her music, which I don't like. But you know what I don't like more than her music? Her image. This comes back to that Ironic Newton John album cover. You see, I have a theory and it is as follows: Best Coast is the Urban Outfitters of music. Were Urban Outfitters a twenty something chick, it would be Best Coast. And Tennis, who is marketed as a counterpoint to Best Coast in many ways, is the American Apparel of music. I like this analogy because it isn't only true about their image, it's also true about their music. Were I to walk into an Urban Outfitters, I would expect to hear Best Coast playing and all of Ann Arbor, Michigan's Bethany-alikes to be grabbing their share of denim jumpers and floral dresses. This kind of offends me because I love floral dresses but none of my floral dresses are from Urban Outfitters but I feel like when I walk around Ann Arbor, people think I'm just another college aged trust fund hipster. I'm not. I don't even have a trust fund! And I graduated college years four ago! But I look young and trendy and people probably look at me and think I listen to Tennis and Best Coast. But you know what? I hate Best Coast! I don't think I hate Tennis and now that I'm actually listening to her CD, it does have redeeming qualities but it's problem is that it's incredibly bland. It's like if Best Coast and Beach House had a very boring baby and it's aunt was Gold Motel. In this scenario, Gold Motel is the cool, wacky aunt that buys her niece booze for her 17th birthday. That is to say, that out of all the bands I have just compared Tennis to, I like Gold Motel the best. Wait, no, I like Beach House the best. Regardless, I think Tennis's PR and label are thrilled because they're capitolizing on this "dreamy girl indie" trend and they probably look at Tennis's American Apparel clad body and see a lithe cash cow.

Remember when Britney Spears got famous? Then Christina Aguilara came along? And everyone was cool with two teen pop starlets but then Mandy Moore released "Candy" and people were like "Who is this bitch? What a style biter!" We're encountering that in indie rock right now, with Beach House in the Britney slot, Best Coast as Christina, and Tennis as Mandy. I personally like Mandy the best out of these teen starlets of yore but I didn't warm up to her until she ditched her pop persona and became a cute girl next door who snagged dreamboat Ryan Adams. Seriously. If you'd have told my fifteen year old self that Mandy Moore would marry Ryan Adams, I would have laughed... Then probably have cried. But they're totally cute, right?

Tennis - Marathon

Wiping Off The Dust: Tripping Daisy - I Am An Elastic Firecracker

It was 1994 when my formative years of music appreciation began. I'd always loved music before that, and have always loved it since; it has been a most major part of my life. But there's something about those junior high school days, the mid-'90s, when everything was so intensely relevant. Music was an all-encompassing experience.

I'm not sure if it is because of my age, or because that era of music was especially poignant, but nothing has ever mattered more than it did then, despite what amazing, sometimes better, music to which I've been exposed since.

At a time when CDs were a fairly new format and I had a little desktop stereo with detachable speakers, I could hear music in a way I hadn't before. I began listening to rock radio and spent my lunch money in record stores. I would go to shows at the community teen center and make mixed tapes for my friends. We would talk about music together, we became inspired to listen to music from past generations and would gush with one another about the ABBA or Queen or Doors albums we'd ordered from Columbia House, and our horizons were broadened. It was an era not only of heightened appreciation and accessibility of music, but of discovery. I imagine many others of my generation would say the same.

In 1995, I bought Tripping Daisy's I Am an Elastic Firecracker. The main single off the album, "I Got a Girl," played frequently on the radio, and it was good. It was electric, it was melodic, and bandleader Tim DeLaughter used the word “bitching” in the bridge. To a 13-year-old, that's all it takes — power chords and naughty language. That’s rock 'n' roll, babe.

 

Yes, you heard me correctly, kids. DeLaughter wasn't always donning robes for The Polyphonic Spree. Until 1999, the Texan was rocking out with the alterna-nation, wailing out fuzzy verses with the best of them. The radio hit was a gas, but like many major label singles, it did not speak well for the album as a whole. Elastic Firecracker was not the light-hearted lark "I Got a Girl" suggested. That song was a fun introduction, but the meat of the album is in the grunge-infested guitars bleeding all over the remainder of the tracklist.

I was a dork in 7th and 8th grade. I didn't know how to dress well, boys didn't like me and the popular kids made fun of me. You could say I've always sort of ran with the outcasts. Music was some of my favorite company. While I can say that many of the other CDs I owned had more meaning to me, Tripping Daisy became part of a pretty regular after-school routine I had.

I'd get home, put Elastic Firecracker in the machine and switch on my Sega Genesis to play "Toy Story" with the volume on my little 13-inch TV turned all the way down. It was so frequent that I could actually time the game by where I was in the CD. Woody would leap through Andy's bedroom catching stars during the driving chords of "Rocketpop," and sometimes the bouncing of his spindly legs would move along perfectly with the echoes of DeLaughter's shouts. I'll forever associate the goofy smile plastered on his face with Tripping Daisy's lyrics. "Well all is great, and everything's nice, with H.R. Pufnstuf by our side," Woody assured me.

 

Tripping Daisy - Rocketpop

New Mountain Goats: "Damn These Vampires"

I recall seeing John Darnielle of the Mountain Goats perform a concert in Durham North Carolina over the summer and grasping what exactly makes the Mountain Goats so compelling as a band. While I’ve been a steadfast fan for years, they are an acquired taste. Whether it’s the crackling lo-fi and the clawhammer strumming of his early career to Mr. Darneille’s nasal yowling and inscrutability of his lyrics, the Mountain Goats seem committed to being vaguely off-putting while crafting hyper-literate pop songs played with a disturbing ferocity. They occupy odd territory in indie rock: scene stalwarts for years at this point with LITERALLY HUNDREDS of songs available, the music they make is more visceral and adolescent than your average navel-gazing singer-songwriter, but more intimate and cerebral than a punk band. This has left them a criminally underappreciated band. They don’t court their audience and instead seem to delight in being the indie rock equivalent of the drunk guy at the party talking a little too loudly and fervently about how much how awesome the Curtis “Showtime” Stevens Vs. Jesse Brinkley fight was, or his favorite ever death metal band he saw in high school.

Darneille’s drunken antics at the show in question further cemented their claim on this territory. The show was pure punk rock, if not in its aesthetic, than in its ethic. Darneille (backed by the self-proclaimed “best rhythm section in indie rock” Peter Hughes on bass and Jon Wurster on drums) dived into the audience, grabbing fans and screaming in their ears like a man on a joyous bender. For the diehards, it was heaven (being slapped by John Darneille is an honor akin to getting a jersey tossed to you after the game by your favorite football player);  still, to the uninitiated, and even those who maybe have only listened to them on their last few relatively restrained albums, it was a spectacle that might prove… disconcerting.

Still, possibly the most vital piece of information for comprehending and appreciating the MGs came earlier in the show when, during one of John Darnielle’s signature halting, blackly funny diatribes about getting drunk and unloading on a friend about your impending divorce over lunch, he said the following: “I woke up the other day, and I wrote a song. Because, that’s what I do. I’m a songwriter, I write songs.”

Much has been remarked upon by fans of the band in regards to the shift in the MG’s sound and aesthetic, the abandoning of the much ballyhooed boombox recordings for a slicker, more produced sound (first with producer/artist John Vanderslice, now on their new record All Eternals Deck with Morbid Angel producer Erik Rutan), but I see this as a natural evolution of the boombox: after getting the meager (in comparison to what they deserve) recognition for their years of service, people started to hand Darnielle bigger boomboxes. Were there no producers or studios interested in hosting Darnielle and his demented pop legacy, he’d return to a boombox. It’s the song, not the singer.

This is basically the essence of the Mountain Goats; their steadfast aesthetic, their prolific output, their resolve to simply not give a fuck. John Darnielle is merely a conduit for songs. The entire haphazard, carefree (careless?) aesthetic of the band, from their inception to now, has been all in service of not blocking the unending flow of music that has been inexplicably routed through Darneille. He’s unconcerned about being anything but a songwriter and imparting the diamonds, rough included, as quickly as possible to avoid losing it. It’s immediacy, the most primitive and powerful you’ll ever experience.  He didn’t have time or resources in the early days to belabor the songs, and it manifested in recording hundreds of songs in the most intimate, hissing analogue format possible.

His limitations as a singer/guitar player/producer/engineer/arranger all are inconsequential: The Mountain Goats write and play songs. No more, no less.

Still, given this ethic, the MGs have been thrust into an awkward position: after toiling for years in relative DIY obscurity, starting with the brilliant Tallahassee  they’ve  given resources, time, and patient and intelligent producers. Their recordings (from We Shall All Be Healed through The Life of the World to Come) have grown more ornate, the rawness and intensity traded for beauty and dynamics. We’ve seen John Darnielle’s debut as a classical-inspired  piano player, heard him whisper in our ears about feeling like a little boy lost in a mall on Get Lonely. This has pushed the band to more challenging places with some really wonderful results. Still, those of us with a fondness for the old days of tape hiss and out of tune guitars have perhaps missed the musical kidney punch Mr. D used to specialize in.

With the impending release of All Eternals Deck, we are treated to a new track “Damn These Vampires” which, I think, recaptures a bit of that magic while reconciling the ability to have more elaborate production.

The Mountain Goats - Damn These Vampires

Reminiscent of  his “Alpha” song cycle where the metaphors all concerned being young and wasted and falling out of love, “Vampires” feels like watching a spaghetti western at noon while drunk. Finally grasping dynamics, Darnielle’s guitar and Wurster’s drums are understated, letting Hughes’ melodic bass really carry. And even for the closet popstar like Darnielle (Robyn, watch out, the Mountain Goats are comin’ for you…), the chorus hook is almost too good, with that anthemic, scream at the top of your lungs quality:

Crawl till dawn

On my hands and knees

God damn these vampires

For what they’ve done to me…

All Eternals Deck comes out March 29th on Merge records. Get excited.

Anticipating 2011: Timber Timbre Creeps On Creepin' On.

It's no secret that I'm insanely excited for the forthcoming year. On a personal level, my life seems to have stopped being "bittersweet" and just started being "sweet", which is cool, but in true Amber Valentine fashion, my anticipation for the year to come has little to do with what's happening in my "hot half life" and more to do with the music that will soundtrack the next eleven months.From long time favorites like Okkervil River and Lightning Love to acts I've only just begun a love affair with like Chris Bathgate and Great Lakes Myth Society's Timothy Monger, 2011 is shaping up to be the best year of music I've had the pleasure of living through. Imagine how much your parents were on pins and needles every time a new Beatles or Stones record's release date drew near. That's how I feel right now.

Even so, nothing's better than a surprise release from your favorite band. In the golden age of technology that we live in, fans are constantly connected with their favorite acts. For instance, months before Okkervil River's latest disc was announced, everyone knew the band was in the studio as lead singer, Austin's dreamiest dude, Will Sheff, tweeted about the experience daily. What came as a complete shock, however, was the fact that one of my personal favorite bands, Timber Timbre, would be releasing a new album in April. It was less than a year and a half ago that the Canadian act, lead by Taylor Kirk, released my favorite album of 2009, their self titled third disc, and even I, with my ear constantly to the Timber Timbre-related ground, had nary a clue that the band was recording, let alone releasing a disc in a matter of a short few months (70 days yesterday by my count, I do believe). So yesterday morning, when I checked my e-mail to find a "Timber Timbre Announces New Record, Creep On Creepin' On, Available 4/5", it was one of the most wonderfully exciting moments of my life.

I could wax poetic on why Kirk is so wonderful and why Creep On Creepin' On might just usurp Okkervil River's I Am Very Far as my top disc of 2011 but instead, I'll just leave you with the Creep On Creepin' On promotional video so you can start to get as excited as me.

 

 

Timber Timbre - Under Your Spell

Get more of Canada's premire purveyors of murder ballads via the band's amazingly bone chilling Daytrotter session. The version of "No Bold Villain" from the Horseshack rivals the already perfect album version!

 

Sidenote: Creep On Creepin' On. Best album title of all time? I think so! At the very least, it is ridiculously apt for Timber Timbre.

Another Sidenote: When I saw the e-mail announcing Timber Timbre's new disc, I excited sent out a mass text to a number of my friends that read, all in caps, "New Timber Timbre Record on April 5th!" No one was as excited as me. This leads me to believe I need cooler friends.

The Best Songs Ever (Part 1).

Editor's Note: Mark Patten is the amazing spitfire behind Meat27, one of Amber's very favorite blogs. Plus, he's the coolest British expat in California and goddamn, the man sure can rant.

I'm always a bit disappointed when publications and websites put together their lists of great, or possibly the greatest, songs. Whether it's in a specific genre or OF ALL TIME they seem to focus on material that is more well-known than popular. For example, John Lennon's "Imagine" gets thrown around a lot as one of the best songs ever written. Why though? Because of what it stands for and the impact it had at the time? As impressive as that may be, I can't think of any actual people who would list that as one of their favourite songs. I know nobody who would randomly put it on over and over again because it's just incredible to them. Can you party to it? Fuck to it? Stalk to it? See, it misses all the key life moments!

Isn't that what we should be looking for? Those special few songs that, for one reason or another, manage to mean a lot to a lot of people? Well, I am here to shine a light on those songs. The ones that, as far as I can tell, are universally loved and appreciated by pretty much everyone who has heard them. I'm sure there will be a few people who disagree with my selections but they're probably just trying to be cool by not liking something overwhelmingly likable. Fuck those people. Leave them with their impenetrable French new waves movies and fair trade chocolate that tastes like wax. You and me and everyone else smart enough to enjoy things that are just GOOD can gather together and just celebrate these songs. We all love them. Why? Who cares?! We just love them. That's enough. So here is the first part of my probably-not-very-long series of The Best Songs That Everyone Who's Anyone Loves. My first choice?

 

Show Preview--Prussia at Pancho's, 1/26/11

Good news, Radio Free Chicagoans! You've got another chance to check out an up-and-coming band from the greater Midwest! This time, it's Detroit's Prussia, purveyors of thickly-layered, loosely constructed psych-pop.

Prussia's sound has varied a lot over the years, shifting from their pop-focused debut, Dear Emily, Best Wishes, Molly, to the much darker EP Blessed Be, Yours Truly is Spirit & Soul. Of their new recordings, parts remind me of African chants and drums, but it's more Animal Collective than Paul Simon (or Vampire Weekend). This kind of music impresses the hell out of me—it sounds effortless and free, like it was made with an acoustic guitar, sample pad and a few friends, but its lushness washes over you, piling layers on one after another, like a laundry basket full of blankets. Catch them Wednesday night at Pancho's--their live show has an excellent reputation for energy and variability, and is not to be missed.

 Girl Cops

And hey, what the hell. Here, have their Daytrotter session.

 

An Interview with The Kopecky Family Band

An Exclusive Interview with the Multi-talented, well-versed 7 piece band from Nashville, TN. 

Sitting in the basement of Schuba's eating Chipotle and chatting it up with the seven members of The Kopecky Family Band.

Their safe word:

BANANA 

Robots or Dinosaurs

 
(Discussing amongst each other...)

'Are they fighting each other?

You could program a robot to be a dinosaur...'

What is the strangest venue you have ever played?

Kelsey: Oh, definitely a wedding, where we played Butterfly Kisses. (Gabe follows with a lovely sample...)

How did you all begin? Influences:

Gabe: Kelsey and I started the band. We played our first show at a school sponsored clothing store. 

Kelsey: Gabe and I met through mutual friends in college, I invited a group of people over for game night; I heard Gabe play the guitar and I was like, I want to play music with this guy. We started writing together on Halloween, and finished our first EP in a week.

Gabe: Influences: Cake, Menomena, Pedro the Lion, James Taylor, Radiohead...

Corey: When I was in middle school I was into hard core music. Now I am more into Modest Mouse, anything with mice in the name.

Ben: Anathallo

Most memorable concert you have ever attended?

Gabe: Radiohead, Steve and I share a birthday, and we went to see them live.

Steve: Yeah, that had to be one of the best shows I have seen.

Some tour Guide Essentials:

Gabe: Well we had our trailer stolen, so we can't bring a whole lot, so now it is basically two buckets and two benches, so it is all ass to ankles right now.

Worst advice you have ever been given?

Markus: We were told to get rid of three or four of our members, because we would never make it with seven.

If you could say only one word, what would it be?

(Collectively at first there were many beeps, boops and finally they decided upon a clever form of communication. SOS.)

All: Morse Code... 

Can you dance? Any hidden talents:

Gabe: (motioning to Corey) Can this guy dance!? I spun him on gravel, he is a trooper though, for being so delicate, we call him Baby spoon and Bread crumb, two of the many nicknames Corey has acquired.

Corey: I like Bread Crumb the best I think.

Gabe: Hidden talents? I can pack the van really well. And Marcus can smoke A LOT of cigarettes. 

(Marcus sort of shrugs, I ask him what kind he smokes, Marlboro Menthol Mediums)

What can we expect from you guys in the future?

A lot more music, We have a split seven inch coming out February fourth, and we are doing SXSW. We'll be around as long as we are playing music and being friends. 

Have a listen and FALL IN LOVE with their melodies.

 

 Birds

From their album "The Disaster"

Click on the album (left), to download/purchase/stream the entire album

<--- <--- click click

 

 

Oh and did I mention they put on an incredible live show!? Here is a little taste...

People Covering Songs I Love... With The-Dream and jj!

jj is an entity so zeitgeist-y that they could have been concocted in a Pitchfork buzz band machine. They're a dreamy, nostalgia-inducing balearic pop duo from Sweden that sometimes cover R&B/hip-hop songs, had a hotly reviewed debut album, followed by a critically panned sophomore release. They even hid their identities at one point! Some times things just feel inevitable. But those are just silly labels; most importantly jj have put out some really gorgeous music.

The-Dream's Love vs Money is my favorite album of 2009, and is secured my top three favorite R&B albums of all time. "Right Side of My Brain" always struck me as having the potential of a hit single as massive as any of the anthems The-Dream has written for Beyonce or Rihanna. Alas, it was not to be. But!: We do have this beautiful, sparse cover from jj that should warm your hollow heart right up.

 

The original:

 The-Dream - Right Side Of My Brain