It is an album of desire, composure and grace, as it tears at your heart strings, softly at times. Its melodically transitions accumulate like folds of luscious thick velvet layered upon a long winding wooden floor. There is simple imagery that in its essence is integral and lighthearted, though has peaks and valleys that bemuse you.
GreatLakeSwimmers former members branched off and patiently learned to record and create their debut self-titled album, which was released on Constellationin the Fall of 2010.
The band is a collaboration of Colin Huebert and Erik Arensen; Peter Carruthers and Shaunn Watt joined the band to play the songs live, but have since become institutions. The band name was inspired by the Northern California mountain range, Siskiyou.
Colin currently resides in Vancouver, which is where he was when I spoke with him over the phone (from, get this, his land-line! How about it?) on a cool Saturday afternoon.
http://siskiyouband.com/listen/
You can trust that Constellation Records will get it right, about over 100% of the time, and Siskiyou is an example - and, ahem, may I be so bold to say a testament to that? Colin himself enjoys the artists on the label; Pat Jordache, Godspeed You Black Emporer, Colin Stetson and Do Make Say Think ... just to name a few. Here is a video courtesy of Constellation, The Land by Siskiyou
1. Now for the safe word….(in case you don’t want to answer any questions, useful)
skate board
2. Favorite cheese?
Brie is my favorite
3. Robots or Dinosaurs?
Dinosaurs, stegosaurus is my favorite...
4. Strangest venue or gig you’ve ever played?
It was in Jackson, Mississippi, at a hot dog restaurant. It was infested with man-size cockroaches.
5. How did you begin your career and who were your influences?
Erik and I were (Erik still is) playing in Great Lake Swimmers until it became less enjoyable for me due to busy schedules. I learned how to record with two cheap microphones, recruited a few close friends, namely Erik Arnesen, and released the album onConstellation just recently. In the fall, we will release a new record.
Aside from music I do some tree-related work, and some urban farming. At the urban farm we mainly grow sprouts - sunflower sprouts, pea sprouts - in Vancouver. At the other farm (in the interior) there was much more land to grow every vegetable imaginable. Erik plays in Great Lake Swimmers and teaches ukulele to kids.
6. What is the most memorable show you’ve ever attended?
It would have to be The Flaming Lips performing Zaireeka in Austin, Texas. There were 40 boom boxes and they brought up 40 people from the audience.
7.What are a fewitems essential to your “tour survival kit”?
I remember the first time I heard The Good Life's Album of the Year, and each time I return to it after an absence the blurry memories return. Kenneth* and I were on a drive, and he told me he had a new album that he was sure I would love. Our time together was often filled with him presenting a new piece of music (whether by someone else or of his own creation) that would cause me to become more impassioned and further idealize him. From the moment “Album of the Year” came on, I was no less than under the spell of Tim Kasher. Cursive’s music was violent and powerful, but I had never heard his voice gently crooning against an acoustic backdrop before. We stopped talking altogether when “Inmates” came on. I was so moved by it I wept, and he kept his hand on my thigh the whole nine minutes.
Writer’s note: *name changed, because dude probably wouldn’t appreciate that.
Play One: The Good Life does an excellent job of letting not just the lyrics but also the music take the listener on their emotional rollercoaster in this song. It starts softly and naked, gaining volumes as the deceptions are unraveled. The lyrics become more wry and resistant, and the echoing accompaniment helps to build tension underneath the main melodic line (can you tell I’m currently taking Music Appreciation?). By the time Kasher’s voice enters around four minutes, you’re just waiting for things to blow up, and that tension is answered with loud, throbbing guitar and suggestions of how to get the hell out of town around five minutes in. From there, the next four minutes are alternating states of elevated passion and quiet contemplation. Bring on the mixed feelings of self-loathing and self-empowerment. I’m ready.
It’s was a warm summer Saturday night in Portland, Maine. I’m standing outside Space Gallery on Congress Street chatting with my old friend Jeff Roberts (of the band Pinksy) and David Lopez. On this night, Dead Man’s Clothes are having their much anticipated CD release show. I’ve come out to support my favorite local band as have many other friends and well-wishers. There isn’t a hint of moisture in the air as a slight breeze coasts down the road towards Monument Square. It’s coming up on 9 p.m. Better make our way inside. I shuffle in behind a group of crust punks. Godammit. I hate being downwind. Whatever. I’ll be fine once I grab a beer. I pay my six bucks for cover and head right to the small bar inside. The girl at the counter has a PBR with the cap already popped off and waiting. She must be able to read my mind. Or just notice the fact I’m wearing Van slip-ons, cut-off shorts and a flannel. Shit. I slip her two bucks and throw another in the tip jar. The air inside is in stark contrast to where I just was. There’s hardly any ventilation, save for the open front door. The converging smell of cultures hangs in the air. I actually like the odor though. The beads of sweat running down my back I could do without . I’ve heard a lot of buzz about the opening band. They’re called Theodore Treehouse. What an odd name. Here they come. Well, let’s just hope they put on a good show.
Jesus Christ. They are doing just that.
I feel as if I had robbed myself. The Portland area had been raving about Theodore Treehouse’s live show for months on end, and not once did I have the opportunity to check them out. That night in August, I did myself a favor. Ian Ferrel, Asher Platts, Sam Chandler and Dylan Verner showed me just one part of what Treehouse is all about: a non-stop flow of musical dynamism. It was impossible to stay still that night inside Space Gallery. Those not starting an impromptu dance party in front of the stage were moving where they stood (or sat, though I don’t recall anyone not being taken over by the music). I left that night with another band to obsess over. It would be a few months until their December release of their full-length debut, Mercury Closest to the Sun, but the wait was absolutely worth it.
Mercury captures all the energy and emotion of a live Theodore Treehouse show and crams it all into 12 fervent tracks. Their opening salvo is “Maple Syrup Moon”. Asher Platts’ pulsing bassline grabs you by the hand and pulls you out of your seat and onto the dance floor. Ferrel’s hoots kick in just as your body begins to whip around to the frantic melody . The initial auditory barrage of the album shows just what type of disparity in song structures Theodore employs on Mercury. The song ends with the band chanting “It was the path I chose long ago” repeatedly in a very sing-along style. This is one of the many examples of the live show atmosphere the band brings along on the album. From Ian’s “Ooh-Ooh-Oohs” on the British Invasion-esque “My Apartment is a Boat” to the band's opening chants on “Springtime,” it’s hard not to sing along to the album on its subsequent playthroughs.
While I attended high school, I shared a piano teacher with Will Bennett, keyboardist of The White Ravens. Once, as I sat at my family’s black Wurlizter about to show off my practice progress, I recall her mentioning how she reconsidered her move from Michigan in order to instruct him longer because he was "something special." At the time, he had started to compose hybrid classical-rock pieces. My curiosity to hear his melodic musings quickly spiked.
One winter day, Amy Bennett, who had received bass instruction, tried collaborating with her pianist brother. As months progressed, I’d hear piano and drum sounds radiate from the family’s basement across the street. My mother would come in from gardening on a humid eighty-two degree Michigan summer day and say, “I hear the Bennetts practicing again!”
When I moved to downtown Ann Arbor from Saline, I lost touch with many of my old neighbors, including the Bennetts. A few years later, during my senior year of college, I began to notice the group’s fliers on lamp posts around Liberty Street. I quickly Googled their name and stumbled upon a YouTube video of The White Ravens performing the song, “In My Pocket,” at an Ypsilanti festival. I instantly noticed an intelligent, witty maturity beginning to mold Amy Bennett’s bright and throaty voice.
The siblings have collaborated with a few drummers throughout their existence, notably Liberty Devitto, who played with Billy Joel for thirty years. Vince Russo (also of The Appleseed Collective) currently plays drums.
Will Bennet’s zealous keyboard playing has been compared to Ben Folds. Moments arise when he nearly bangs the keyboard in exclamatory passion.
Billy Joel’s melodic style comprises a sizable part of the alkaline in The White Ravens’ sound battery. On that note, they perform a killer cover of “Crocodile Rock,” by Joel’s comrade, Elton John.
Amy Bennett, bassist and lead vocalist, derives humorous lyric ideas from just about anything and everything. From web-comics to Douglas Adams science fiction – if one can name it, she’ll write about it. A University of Michigan science student by day and musician by night, she iterates how the scientific method influences her songwriting because she learns “how things happen through analyzing the world,” and derives lyrical inspiration from this. She proudly highlights her vast experience working in a lab examining rat brains – perhaps inspiration for a future song?
A “School of Rock” type vibe seasons The White Ravens’ earlier musical essence. “Mr. Schonke,” for instance, describes the siblings’ frustrating experience with a manipulative and uptight teacher who would act condescending. “My teacher is a dragon/ yeah, he’s always nagging/for me to do his dirty work./ He’d set me on fire/ if I tried to think higher,” the lyrics go. Incidentally, my brother had this teacher in school at some point, which adds to the humor for me.
“Tick Tock” utilizes an image of a wind-up parrot to symbolize a relationship and the necessity of one partner to take his or her turn "winding it up." "The gears and springs/ and the pulleys and strings/ and the wind-up parrot who squawks and sings/ will sleep until you twist their copper wings," it laments.
Jukebox the Ghost played The Pike Room/The Eagle Theatre/The Crofoot on Wednesday February 16th and knocked everybody's socks off. Jukebox the Ghost has a way of charming the pants off of everybody in the room, except for maybe the couple who was getting it on against me and my fellow Ghost-goers, they probably already had their pants off, good God.
The best song of the night (including the sets of Gold Motel, Now, Now, and You, Me, and Everyone We Know - don't get me wrong, they were all very good) was Half Crazy, but I'm biased because Tommy Siegel is just about the cutest guitarist I ever did lay mine eyes upon.
There are few bands that can make an album that is termed "over-produced" by some well respected indie music gurus, and then lay it down live just as perfectly and with just as much fullness as the album. Not to mention drummer Jesse Kristin has some mad percussion juggling skillz.
And if you aren't convinced yet of the awesomeness of these Ghosts, just take one longing look into the doe-eyed keyboardist Ben Thornewill, and you'll follow these boys across the Gulf of Mexico, which you can apparently do legally now by booking a room on the Rombello Cruise. They're setting sail on September 29th of this year alongside Slightly Stoopid, Michael Franti and Spearhead, G. Love & Special Sauce, and the big ticket name on the bill: to be announced. Does a Carribbean cruise with some of your favorite bands right now sound great in the wake of cold ass horrible weather across the midwest or what? I know where I'll be come September 29th, and it won't be Michigan!
I miss you EIC Amber, let's go on a date this Monday night.
Ever since Craig Owens was let go as the lead singer of Chiodos, loyal fans have been waiting eagerly to see exactly what the vocalist’s next move was. Not long after his release from the band, rumors started surfacing regarding a new band. One by one band members were revealed and soon a whole new group of talented musicians was ready to take the stage. Almost. Gradually, more and more information regarding this “mystery band” was released until finally fans were given a taste of what was to come. Toward the end of 2010, Destroy Rebuild Until God Shows, or D.R.U.G.S, released “If You Think This Song is About You, It Probably Is” and left fans begging for more. Well fret not, my dear friends, because Destroy Rebuild’s first album, D.R.U.G.S, is finally here!
This particular album is easily one of my most anticipated for the year and let me tell you, I am not disappointed. In the weeks leading up to the album’s release, the band leaked a new song as well as a short video every couple of days or so. I, however, didn’t want the album to be ruined for me, so I used every ounce of strength I had and chose not to listen to any more than what I had already heard. I’m honestly very glad that I did this because I was able to experience the album in full and I feel as though I appreciated it more than if had heard the tracks previous to the album release.
One track that I was particularly excited to hear was “The Only Thing You Talk About.” A previously unreleased Chiodos song entitled “Thermacare” that I had quickly fallen in love with, I was disappointed that I would be unable to ever hear this song live. Guess who was wrong! D.R.U.G.S has vastly improved the overall quality of this song and I absolutely love it. Not to mention I just happen to love it when Craig Owens screams the word “whore.” DON’T JUDGE ME. All obnoxious fan-girling aside, this is one of the first songs on the album and it’s also one of the strongest in my opinion. Well done, boys.
“Graveyard Dancing” is another track that I find to be very well composed. I distinctly remember Owens stating when I saw D.R.U.G.S perform earlier this year that this is one of his personal favorites, and I can honestly say that I can see why. This song has some of the strongest lyrics of any track on the album. Most notably the bridge, in which Owens so passionately sings the words “Why is it I love you so much and all you do is hate, hate, hate everything you’ve become?” This line, as well as this entire song, have become fast personal favorites.
For those of us who like our music a little heavier, “Stop Reading, Start Doing Pushups” is probably the song to check out. It’s one of the more “screamy” songs on the album, and you know what, I’m okay with that! I personally like just the right amount of “screamy” in my music. Not only are the vocals spot on, but the pure musical talent of each band member is clearly displayed in this song.
Now, I realized that I have focused mainly on all of the positive aspects of this album thus far. And while I will admit that there are quite a lot of them, there are a few things that I’m not entirely fond of that I don’t feel should go unmentioned. For example, there are a few lines in certain songs that I do find questionable. Based on what I’ve read from other fans, I think many people agree that the bridge in “Mr. Owl Ate my Metal Worm” is subject to a bit of ridicule. While I do not agree with most people as to the exact meaning of the line “I’d like to keep cutting, but I can’t stand to watch myself bleed,” I do agree that this particular line sounds a bit “off.” Other than that, however, I love the song.
The only other track on this album I really was not completely fond of is “I’m Here to Take the Sky.” Not to say the song is not well written and well performed, I just feel that it is a bit inconsistent with the rest of the album. It is much “poppier” than the other tracks on the album and, to be perfectly honest, I feel as though this track would have been more suitable as a Cinematic Sunrise song. However, when listened to out of context, it’s still a really good track.
All that having been said, Destroy Rebuild Until God Shows definitely delivered with this album. The passion that each band member has for music is clearly evident in each and every track and that, my friends, is what makes good music. D.R.U.G.S is definitely an album I would recommend to almost anyone and I very much look forward to seeing what this extremely talented group of gentlemen has in store for us in the future.
Montreal's Young Galaxy will be stopping by the Empty Bottle on March 25th as part of their small U.S. tour. Their recent album, Shapeshifting, was released in early February through Paper Bag Records. A complete transitional shift from Invisible Republic, the songs were given to Dan Lissvik across the vast Atlantic in Sweden to put the finishing polishes on. What came out of emails and Skype discussions is one of my personal favorites of the year, a refreshing wash of atmospheric indie dipped in electronic beats and synth (my review is over at Mezzic, as well as an interview with Stephen Ramsay). Listen to a sample, "We Have Everything" which depicts this electro-beat over Catherine McCandless' vocals.
In the basement of Double Door, I had the chance to sit down and ask The members of The Mutts a few questions twenty minutes before they went on stage...
So, The Mutts...
Mike: I have never really explained the band name before, this is an inaugural explanation... combination of liking dogs and making a living walking dogs.
First question... Most important, is, why?
Mike: Because it’s out there
Safe Word?
Chris: Booger
Favorite/least favorite cheese? (for the cheese-enthusiast)
Chris/Mike: Gouda Bob: Well, I am a vegan... so least favorite might be the cheese that smells kind of like feet.
Robots or Dinosaurs?
Dinosaurs (collectively)
Strangest venue or gig you’ve ever played?
All: The Mutiny... not that it was strange... more cool than strange
How did you begin your career and who were your influences?
Chris: I was in a few bands before the Mutts (i.e. The Hush Sound) and we all just sort of met up and rocked out.
What is the most memorable concert you’ve ever attended?
Chris: The Roots at Depaul, outdoors in the pouring rain. Mike: New Kids on the Block, my sister dragged me there when I was 8, my first concert I ever attended. Bob: My first concert was Filter. Also Cornelius.
Bob: The first record I remember digging on as a kid was Weather Report's Birdland. I was kind of obsessed with Jaco Pastorius' bass in the title track. I also really liked Joe Venuti and John Barnes live at the Concord Music Festival for some reason. I was 5 or 6. Who knows? Haha.
What is the worst advice you’ve ever been given?
Chris: When someone handed me some peanut butter and said “Eat this, you’re not allergic.”
If you were to communicate using one word, what would it be?
Chris: Aghhh (with some silent J’s) Mike: Meow Bob: Yum
How do you make those wicked guitar riffs, is it a gift or did you learn from some venerable teacher?
Mike: My piano teacher from age 7 to 13 was a 6'7", 300+ pound Hungarian man named Janus Zemzars. He had a booming voice and had to duck to get through the practice room doors at the Arts Center back in Ashtabula, OH. It was terrifying to imagine going to a lesson unprepared. But he was really a nice guy, who just happened to make a grand piano look like a toy (like a real-life Shroeder from Peanuts). I loved learning gypsy Tarantellas, Muzio Clementi sonatas, and heavy Tchaikovsky compositions. I accidentally lift riffs from that stuff on occasion.
Have you ever considered touring with some strange band whose sound is polaropposite of your own? if you had to choose what would it be? Mike: Yes - either Sigur Ros or Dream Theater. Or both!
Best part of the sandwich?
Mike: The Crust
Bob: The sandwich is all about the hot giardiniera, available only at the Subways in the Midwest. tastes like home.
The snow is covering up one third of my living room window. It makes it difficult to see what's going on in the real world. From what I can tell right now, the real world is being peppered by more snow. For some strange reason, I'm okay with this today. You see, I'm not living in the real world today. It bores me. Today I dwell in my realm of fantasy. Before I start my next paragraph, I’m going to pour two cups of coffee. One for myself and one for my imaginary guest: the wonderful Wisconsin songstress Anna Vogelzang. I’m out of creamer. I hope she doesn’t mind.
After we swap stories about Portsmouth, NH, a place I consider my weekend home and where she recorded the album Paper Boats, she begins to play me “Die Trying,” the first track of her most recent EP Secret Cedar Room. She sits on my couch, gently plucking the strings of her banjo. Her voice resonates beautifully through my apartment as a steady stream of her heart pours out through her throat as she laments “What if this is not my best? What If I could do better?” Her songs are an unspoiled intermingling of heartache, nature, innocence and metaphor. All these things invoke powerful imagery from her lyrics. “There's a secret cedar room locked inside my ribs. It houses all the guilt packed away in cardboard boxes,” she sings on "Wishbone." I know she’d probably be upset, but I want to unlock her ribs with a skeleton key right now. But I think that would be too "Pan’s Labyrinth" of me. She should keep singing.
We sip on our coffee as I show her my acoustic guitar. She asks me to play “Heart Beats Faster” with her. I say of course. It’s my daydream, so my fingers have no problem plucking away the intro to my favorite track on the EP. As we get lost in song, I can’t help myself from rattling off compliments in my head about her singing and songwriting. Her vocals seem to cut through the air like a lighthouse’s beam shining through thick night fog. Her voice seamlessly represents the type of person Anna is; resilient, assertive and revealing. At least that’s who she is in my daydream as our mugs steam away while we stay perfectly in tune for hours on end.
And seeing as it’s my daydream, we fall asleep watching "The Empire Strikes Back." The End.
It’s easy to recommend Anna Vogelzang to anyone looking for talented and charming folk-pop. Give her a listen or pick up her albums at her Bandcamp site. Or check out her tour dates on her website. You should also donate to her Kickstarter page to help her get her next full-length released. I’ll see you around, Anna. Next time, we can watch "Double Dare" and play Nintendo.
I feel like one of the most shocking statements I've ever said is "You know who's really underrated? Sean Lennon!" This isn't shocking because Sean Lennon is overrated or because he doesn't deserve to be given accolades. To see the looks on my friends and colleagues faces, however, when I proclaim that the youngest Lennon is, in fact, a talent, you'd think I'd just told a the Pope, "You know who's really underrated? Satan!"
It's easy to dismiss the career of Sean Lennon, much as it was easy in the mid-90's to ignore the alternative rock of The Wallflowers due to the inclusion of Jakob Dylan. A progeny of someone as prolific as Bob Dylan or John Lennon, after all, has no possible way to live up to the legacy of their parents. Granted in recent years, Lennon has gotten more press for his presence during some grade A antics than his music (Those pictures of Vanessa Manillo and Lindsay Lohan holding knives to each other? Taken at Sean Lennon's digs!) but what Lennon did on his last official release, 2006's Friendly Fire, lead to Lennon producing one of the most criminally unlistened to albums of the year.
From the opening notes of "Dead Meat", a track starting with lilting piano that's later joined by strings and layered vocals that paint a dreamy picture of - fittingly enough - lush, Beatles-esque pop, it's glaringly obvious that Lennon is his father's son and he will not spend his time playing pretend, dressing up in the clothes of some rock star so unlike his ancestoral predessor, perhaps even downplaying the relation like Jakob Dylan did at the height of The Wallflowers's success. More than recalling The Beatles, however, Lennon recalls artists that weren't influenced by his father. Shades of Jon Brion and Elliott Smith are many, with the precise guitar of "Parachute" recalling a more upbeat version of Brion's "Hook, Line, And Sinker" and "Wait For Me" sounding as though Smith were attempting to compose his own version of one of his favorite Beatles tunes, the oft-covered by Smith "I'm Only Sleeping".
I feel as if it weren't for the strength of "Wait For Me", album opener "Dead Meat" would be Friendly Fire's stand out tune. "Wait For Me", however, has found itself becoming one of my favorite songs of all time. It's a simple pop song, yes. The chords are so simple that I managed to learn to play the song by ear. There's little lyrical substance but each line, no matter how forced its rhyme, has the type of vague relatability that anyone can find meaning or comfort in. "Wait For Me" is the best pop song that no one's heard. I remember driving home from work back in '06, when Lennon's sophomore release first came out, and first taking note of "Wait For Me". I ended up taking the long way home, circling the lake of the small town I lived in twice before turning towards my house, just so I could listen to "Wait For Me" again. It was as if the song were a composition from the guy I'd fall in love with one day, telling me that he was waiting and he hoped I would be too. Maybe it's ridiculous thoughts like this that keep my single. Or maybe "Wait For Me" is just that perfect.
There are certain moments in your life when you realize that you've stumbled across something special that's going to stick with you for a while. It could be at a bar, locking eyes with the most beautiful person you've ever seen. Or at a concert, hearing a band you'd never heard of before that you find yourself so taken with that you have an inkling they're going to soundtrack some very important events in your future. Regardless of the who, what, when, or where, we've all gone through those moments when we first see or hear something and we know without knowing: We've stumbled across something special.
I remember vividly the first time I heard Jon Brion. I was thirteen and listening to Aimee Mann's I'm With Stupid. I was taken from the get go with the sounds - There was an inherit idiosyncratic quality about Mann's music that I fell in love with and was desperate to find out where it came from. And at the end of the album, on a hidden track, I got my answer: Jon Brion. The first bit of Brion's vocals I heard was a thirty second snippet, tucked away at the end of I'm With Stupid, after closing track "It's Not Safe", when Brion, amidst an array of masterfully played guitar, twinkling instruments, and radio static, sings "But you're the idiot who keeps believing in luck." That was all I needed to hear because at that moment, I just knew it: Jon Brion was something special.
I spent my high school years after that obsessing over Brion, cultivating tracks he'd produced, buying cds simply because he guested on them. It was a mix of his musical oddities and John Lennon-esque voice that had me so rapt with Brion's music and it's fairly common knowledge that Brion's gone on to score some of the most amazing films of our generation, including Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Stepbrothers. Brion's tour de force of a score for the David O. Russell shit-show that was I Heart Huckabee's remains my favorite soundtrack to a film I hated and I do believe that "Knock Yourself Out" might be the best song ever written. This is all widely known. What isn't widely known, however, is that Jon Brion released an amazing solo cd called Meaningless in 2001.
Meaningless was originally slated for a major label release but, much like Mann's Bachelor No. 2 and Wilco's genius Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, the disc was deemed unsuitable for a wide release for whatever ridiculous reason - Commercial viability? Pure spite? - and eventually, Brion released the CD himself to criminally little fanfare. Meaningless should have been a hit. It should have watched over the other releases from 2001 from a perch high atop every best-of list. It should have been raved about in Rolling Stone and Entertainment Weekly and it should have made Jon Brion famous in the mainstream's consciousness. At the very least, it should have gotten a vast amount of attention from NPR and the indie scene. Meaningless, however, went almost completely unnoticed and it's not incredibly uncommon to talk to a Brion fan who hasn't even heard the record. To me, this is tragic because not only is the album one of my favorite records of all time but I hold it as the best produced album I've ever heard. Fact of the matter is that Brion is a great musician but he's a genius producer, as evidenced by the vast number of huge hits he had a hand in (Kanye's "Golddigger", anyone?) and his talent shines better than it ever has, and perhaps ever will, on Meaningless.
Brion has an uncanny ability like no one else to be able to write a song in just about any genre and make it impeccable. While Brion's ballads and pop songs tend to garner him the most attention on his soundtracks (See the remarkably affecting "Here We Go" from Punch Drunk Love and the aforementioned "Knock Yourself Out" for great examples), Meaningless proves just how amazing of a musician Brion is. The album starts on a clever note with "Gotta Start Somewhere", an introspective song worthy of any indie rocker but peppered with affects that are distinctly Brion, from an interspersed whistle to the opening of a robotic voice, stating the time. It's with the second song, "I Believe She's Lying", that Brion really gains his foothold, letting his mile-a-minute wordplay and offbeat production elements take center stage. Why this song wasn't a huge deal is beyond me.
In 1979 Peter Dayton recorded Mission of Burma’s first single Peaking Spring/This Is Not A Photograph. The singles weren’t for stores. Instead, they were given out to college radio stations with the hope of promoting the then unknown Mission of Burma. It worked. MIT’s radio station WMBR loved “Peaking Spring” so much it became their most played song of 1979. The band was off to a great start. Everyone in Boston was talking about them.
The band was generating enough buzz that Rick Harte, owner of indie label Ace Of Hearts Records, went to go see them in concert. He didn’t understand their music, but he liked two of their songs. Figuring two songs was good enough for a single, Rick signed Burma and released their first commercial single Academy Fight Song/Max Ernst. Released on June 1980, within weeks the single sold out its initial 7,500 pressings and received heavy airplay on college radio throughout Massachusetts. It was good enough that music magazine Boston Rock crowned them best local band and Academy Fight Song/Max Ernst best new single. Even more impressively Academy was featured on influential magazine New York Rocker’s list of the top 10 best singles of 1980, sharing print space with mega rock stars like The Clash, Elvis Costello, and The Pretenders. Pretty soon Burma was opening for major label bands like Gang of Four, The Cure, The Buzzcocks, The Dead Kennedys, and The Fall.
On July 4, 1981 Mission of Burma released their first EP Signals, Calls, and Marches. The band received heavy airplay on Boston FM super-station WBCN, lead single “That’s When I Reach For My Revolver” topping their charts at number six. Because Signals was released over the summer it didn’t receive any college radio airplay, but regardless Signals snagged fifth place on Rockpool’s progressive charts between superstar artists Siouxsie and the Banshees and The Pretenders. By the time 1982 rolled around, Signals had sold out all ten thousand of its initial pressings.
You’d think with all the exposure and critical acclaim a major label would have sucked them up by now. Problem was, Mission of Burma sounded so different live then they did on record that people often mistook them for two different bands. On vinyl Burma sounded like a very arty punk band with smart pop sensibilities and a little avant-garde eccentricity injected into the mix. Live, Mission of Burma was impossibly loud; a sonic maelstrom of frenzied chaotic sounds. A common insult the press would write was “Mission of Burma would sound good live if they were all playing the same song”. Peter Prescott played his drum kit like he was soloing the whole time. Clint Conley shredded impossibly fast up and down his bass like he was Jimi Hendrix, while Roger Miller’s guitar amp was cranked up so loud he would wear industrial strength earplugs underneath the noise cancelling headphones they give you at gun ranges to avoid going deaf. While all this was going on Martin Swope would manipulate their sound live with a tape deck from the PA system. An impressive feat considering the sampler hadn’t been invented yet and wouldn’t for many more years.
I feel incredibly banal writing this review, because it seems like anyone who’s even remotely interested in music has heard of In The Aeroplane Over The Sea before. According to besteveralbums.com it’s the 21st most critically acclaimed album of all time. Hipster bible pitchfork.com lists it as the fourth best album of the 90s. Try this, go to a place where hipsters hang out, approach one, and ask them what their favorite album is. If they’re a poser who doesn’t care about music, chances are they’ll say In The Aeroplane...
Sometime during 1994 Jeff Magnum along with high school friends William Cullen Heart and Bill Doss formed the band Olivia Tremor Control and released their first EP California Demise. Afterwards Magnum left the group and began sleeping on friends floors, unemployed. During this time he recorded four cassettes, Pygmie Barn In E Minor, Invent Yourself A Shortcake, Beauty, and Hype City Soundtrack under the name Milk. The cassettes were very advant garde and weird. Two of the tracks were just spoken conversations between Magnum and his friends.
In late 1994 Magnum and whoever was around him at the time recorded the four song EP Everything Is as Neutral Milk Hotel. Frankly, it sucks. Have you ever been to a museum and wandered through the modern art gallery, wondering if any of this shit is really art? Everything Is is the musical equivalent of that. Magnum only made fifty copies and they sold poorly.
In 1996 Magnum moved to Denver, Colorado where he recorded Neutral Milk Hotel’s first LP On Avery Island. At the time, Neutral Milk Hotel was composed of Magnum, The Apples In Stereo’s Robert Schneider, The Perry Weissman 3’s Rick Benjamin, and Secret Square’s Lisa Janssen. The album sold poorly and received mildly positive critical response.
After the release of On Avery Island, the Neutral Milk Hotel as most know them formed, featuring Magnum, Scott Spillane on horns, Jeremy Barnes on drums and organ, and Julian Koster on bass, banjo, and saw. From July through September 1997 they recorded In The Aeroplane... which was released February 10th, 1998. It sold poorly on its initial release and was met with mixed critical response. Critics would later change their negative reviews to postive ones.
The album opens with “King Of Carrot Flowers Pt. 1”. The song begins with a basic, folky acoustic guitar and Magnum's obscure vocals, slowly gaining intensity until Magnum’s voice is soaring above the explosion of horns, violin, and synth. The song depicts two violently fighting parents and an incestuous pair of siblings “learning what each others bodies are for”. Some parts of the song make no sense. What’s a carrot flower or a holy rattlesnake? Other parts, however, are far to clear. I’m sure many of us can relate to Mom “drinking until she was no longer speaking” and Daddy “dreaming of different ways to die”.
The album then seamlessly transitions into “King Of Carrot Flowers Pt. 2 & 3”. Opening with an arpeggio guitar riff plucked over grainy synth chords. Magnum sings about how much he loves Jesus Christ. Fifty seconds in the song begins to increase in tempo, volume, and instrumentation, becoming more and more chaotic until it can be contained no longer and explodes at 1:40. All the while Magnum sings about floating “Inside my Mom inside a garbage bin”, and marrying a “dead dog singing and a synthetic flying machine”.
I make no secret of the fact that Okkervil River is my favorite band. In fact, I make no secret of the fact that I harbor what borders on an "unhealthy obsession" with Will Sheff and his Austin multi-instrumentalists. Given this information, it's only natural that Shearwater holds a special place in my heart. Shearwater, formed alongside Okkervil River by Sheff and Jonathan Meiburg, eventually parted ways with Okkervil River (Although Meiburg is very much still a part of both bands, as evidenced on Okkervil River's latest release, Mermaid) to concentrate mainly on Shearwater. The bands are very much siblings and given the fact that there's not a single ounce of bad blood between Sheff and Meiburg, it makes it almost blasphemy to adore one of the bands and not the other.
Okkervil River has always, since my discovery of them five plus years ago, held the top spot in my heart. In recent months, however, I've delved into Shearwater's discography with a fervor that has lead to my love of Meiburg growing exponentially - Something that I didn't think was possible given the extreme, uh, lady-boner for Meiburg that I've harbored since I first saw pictures of him alongside Sheff in press photos for the masterpiece that was Okkervil River's Black Sheep Boy.
It was a Wednesday in February when how much I loved Shearwater finally hit me - My favorite part of the new Okkervil River b-side, "Walked Out On A Line"? Meiburg's inclusion. The records I'd been listening to most while lounging about or working in the kitchen? Shearwater's. In fact, the desire to hear Meiburg's powerful, otherworldly vocals had been growing inside of me for some time and so it was that I decided to embark upon another 74-Play Challenge, with my favorite Shearwater song, "Rooks".
Listen One: I've probably listened to "Rooks" upwards of a thousand times since it's 2008 release. I remember the first time I heard it, being relatively unfamiliar with Shearwater as a band outside of it's Okkervil River connection. I had purchased Rook off Matador's website and gotten the record in the mail. I was in no rush to listen to it but I couldn't sleep that night so I decided to lay on my living room floor and listen to the band's latest offering. What I knew of their past work gave me the impression that the disc would lull me to sleep. With opening track "On The Death Of The Waters", that notion was dispelled but it was "Rooks" that made it certain I would get no sleep that night. "Rooks" opens with a guitar subtle and intricate, so haunting that it's impossible to ignore. Meiburg's voice, an instrument in and of itself, is at it's best here, perfectly conveying the mortality so deftly described in his lyrics. By the time Scott Brackett's crystalline trumpet comes in for the songs coup de gras, "Rooks" has woven a dark and lovely web around you. I listened to "Rooks" a number of times that night and nearly three years later, still often play it for people I've just met, as they have to hear that song, they just have to. I can't imagine a song I could stomach better 74 times in a row than this.
Colin Huebert of Siskiyou: The Interview
It is an album of desire, composure and grace, as it tears at your heart strings, softly at times. Its melodically transitions accumulate like folds of luscious thick velvet layered upon a long winding wooden floor. There is simple imagery that in its essence is integral and lighthearted, though has peaks and valleys that bemuse you.
Great Lake Swimmers former members branched off and patiently learned to record and create their debut self-titled album, which was released on Constellation in the Fall of 2010.
Colin currently resides in Vancouver, which is where he was when I spoke with him over the phone (from, get this, his land-line! How about it?) on a cool Saturday afternoon.
http://siskiyouband.com/listen/
You can trust that Constellation Records will get it right, about over 100% of the time, and Siskiyou is an example - and, ahem, may I be so bold to say a testament to that? Colin himself enjoys the artists on the label; Pat Jordache, Godspeed You Black Emporer, Colin Stetson and Do Make Say Think ... just to name a few. Here is a video courtesy of Constellation, The Land by Siskiyou
This Land - Siskiyou from Constellation Records on Vimeo.
1. Now for the safe word….(in case you don’t want to answer any questions, useful)
skate board
2. Favorite cheese?
Brie is my favorite
3. Robots or Dinosaurs?
Dinosaurs, stegosaurus is my favorite...
4. Strangest venue or gig you’ve ever played?
It was in Jackson, Mississippi, at a hot dog restaurant. It was infested with man-size cockroaches.
5. How did you begin your career and who were your influences?
Erik and I were (Erik still is) playing in Great Lake Swimmers until it became less enjoyable for me due to busy schedules. I learned how to record with two cheap microphones, recruited a few close friends, namely Erik Arnesen, and released the album on Constellation just recently. In the fall, we will release a new record.
Aside from music I do some tree-related work, and some urban farming. At the urban farm we mainly grow sprouts - sunflower sprouts, pea sprouts - in Vancouver. At the other farm (in the interior) there was much more land to grow every vegetable imaginable. Erik plays in Great Lake Swimmers and teaches ukulele to kids.
6. What is the most memorable show you’ve ever attended?
It would have to be The Flaming Lips performing Zaireeka in Austin, Texas. There were 40 boom boxes and they brought up 40 people from the audience.
7. What are a few items essential to your “tour survival kit”?
Sleeping pills.
8. What are you listening to now?
Damien Jurado. St Bartlett, his latest release.
9. What is the worst advice you’ve ever been given?
If you avoid something it will go away.
10. If you were to communicate using one word what would it be?
Motherfucker. Two guys communicated using just that word on “The Wire”. It was quite successful.
11. Can you dance?
Yes. Mmmhmmm (Matter of Fact tone).
12. Anything else you want the people to know?
Our cat Pixie is an aspiring accountant. She is currently doing our taxes.
Please note: This is not an actual picture of Pixie, she preferred not to be photographed.
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Tags: Constellation Records, Rachel Angres, Siskiyou
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