Blog

Average Rating: 71.5%

(Side 1: 88%; Side 2: 55%)

Listening to Rhode Island’s own Deer Tick is like trying to eat a walnut. You have to crack through an impenetrable outer shell before enjoying the tasty part inside. Case in point: To experience the textured songwriting, the dusty melodies and earnest instrumentation, you have to get past the fact that John McCauley sounds like he’s doing a constant impersonation of Popeye the Sailor Man. This single fact may be the central reason many a listener won’t give Deer Tick a chance.

And it’s a cryin’ shame.

Because Deer Tick are — alongside bands like Bright Eyes, Modest Mouse, Band of Horses, Okkervil River and even Arcade Fire — a band defined more by their collective spirit than by the tonal quality of their lead singer. These East Coasters move effortlessly from the back porches of the Mississippi Delta complete with screen porches and  moonshine to the Texarkana saloons complete with tumbleweeds and spur-clad cowboy boots. They’re as authentic a country rock’n’roll band (with a penchant for the blues) as any you’re like to hear, which is at once the best and worst thing about their sophomore album.

Because for all its promise and potential, there’s a problem with Born On Flag Day which can’t be overlooked. A problem best described by taking you through the album, track by track. Let’s get started…

Side 1 (The Pain of Stayin’ Sober)

1. “Easy,” kicks off the album like an anthem for love-torn souls plagued with silver-lined heartbreak juxtaposed against murderous thoughts of revenge. Vintage Deer Tick, right? Dark, moody, up-tempo and unkempt. Full of spirit. I can feel McCauley’s pain, I share it with him. And I’m hooked. A good start to what could be a great album, and the song you’re most likely going to hear on the radio.

2. “Little White Lies,” follows next and starts off slow. I begin to worry whether we may have lost the tightly tuned songwriting and earnest delivery of yore. In the end I’d say this is one of the lesser songs of the front five tracks, but the change-up just past the two-minute mark grabs me by my flannel collar and throws me into the next track with a smile.

3. “Smith Hill,” is a heart-wrenching, soaring ballad which demonstrates a band coming into their own with important, memorable songs. Everything just comes together here. The peaks and valleys, the chill emotion in every word “I can drink myself to death tonight. I can stand and give a toast. To those who made it out alive, but it’s you I miss the most.”. This song might define the evolution of Deer Tick most succinctly. It’s also the song I want to listen to over and over again.

4. Hollow and barren, yet resonant for all its vacancy, “Song About a Man,” crescendos with a harmonica before retreating back into the creaky saloon where it came from. McCauley’s viewpoint comes through in the songwriting yet again: “How can a man feel anything, when all he’s ever got was sympathy?” A question I’ve never asked myself, yet it makes you wonder…

5. The guitar riff on “Houston, TX,” cascades beautifully, like a finely wrought Iron & Wine song, yet doesn’t resemble Sam Beam in any substantive way. We roll along a dirt road in a muddy pick-up and the sun’s just about to set. Everything’s all right as we ride off into the distance, with McCauley singin’ “Oh move on, oh move on.” And so we keep on moving.

Side 2 (The Joy of Gettin’ Shitcanned)

But wait, there’s still another five tracks, right? So what am I doing driving off into the sunset you ask? Damn, you caught me. It’s just that… well I wish I could stop right now, because the rest of this until-now potential-filled album doesn’t hold a bottle rocket to the first five songs. Side 2 finds a different, lesser iteration of Deer Tick in just about every fathomable way.

This is the side of Deer Tick I hoped had been purged on War Elephant. The gravely emotion is replaced by lackluster honkey tonk homage, with John McCauley vying to open for Marty Stewart and George Strait on the next big Country & Western festival circuit. Summerfest here we come!

6. “Straight Into a Storm,” is something you might dance to at your local tavern, sawdust on the dancefloor, quarter in the jukebox. The only problem is that when you finally touch boot to hardwood floor you’re surrounded by your grandparents and all their friends. They love this song, and so you start to hate it.

7. On “Friday XIII,” McCauley makes a valiant effort to add some dimension with, dare I say it, a duet? I remember when Songs:Ohia made their Magnolia Electric Co. album. Three new vocalists joined the fray, including Jenny Benford, bringing something new to Molina’s music we hadn’t heard before. The only problem here is, this song is more a demonstration in getting drunk and fooling around with your girlfriend in her mom’s bedroom than it is a song of any true note. “So let’s get back to what, all that was fair and just, oh won’t you please love me again?” they croon during the chorus, and I feel like somehow they’re pleading directly to me.

8. “The Ghost,” had me yawning from the start, and nodding off by the end. I don’t mind a sleepy ballad, but when the songwriting devolves to lines like: “Oh you don’t have to say anything. But you have got to mean everything,” you have to wonder where the McCauley of old (just a few tracks old, specifically) ran off to? He sings off key in many places here, but not in the forgiving way borne of emotional delivery. Here I’m reminded of “What Kind of Fool Am I?” and I can’t help but wince.

9. “Hell On Earth,” is easily the strongest of this batch of songs, and for me the only bright spot on the back five. They took a down-trodden narrative and pushed it somewhere noteworthy, the way “Smith Hill,” proved they could do earlier on. Despite a slightly predictable and flat structure, I liked this melody enough to stick it out a little longer.

10. Deer Tick still don’t know how to end an album it seems, as “Stung,” tries desperately to take us out with a drunken doo wop flare. McCauley almost gets me to care through the first verse, even though it’s all a bit bad karaoke and too many Zimas to my ears. When the chorus finally kicks in I realize this is the last song of the album, the last song! and I’m fighting the nagging urge to skip back to the beginning and try to forget it ended like this.

Conclusion

But there’s not enough Coors Light in all of Rhode Island to drown out the memory of four of the last five tracks. They will live on in our iTunes this Flag Day and the next one and the one after that. Things started off so well Deer Tick, but something went wrong. Can I forgive you? Of course, but not until you release your second LP later this year. Maybe you can call it Born On Labor Day, and work a little harder on crafting ten songs to match the promise of the first five here?

11. Oh, there’s also a bonus song at the end of the last track, a cover of “Goodnight Irene,” sung in what sounds to be a friend’s kitchen complete with PBR’s cracking open and laughter and screaming in the din. It’s as warm and fuzzy as it is forgettable, though it might still have been a better choice to end the album than “Stung,” was. I’m just sayin’.

Mp3. “Easier”
Mp3. “Smith Hill”

Cinematic. Somber. Tragic. Desperate. Beautiful. So ebbs this stunning track “The Motorist,” off the newest EP of the same name, from the band Arms and Sleepers.

Opening with glitchy samples, a distant screeching, and bittersweet keyboard work, we discover in layers what darkness and beauty together was always supposed to sound like. The forlorn piano emerges near the end, escaping the hectic, crashy percussion for a moment before washing away from shore, and thus washing the song’s narrative sample away with it, lost in the whispery echoes of our memory.

“Sometimes, I feel, like a motherless child.”

Listen to the Mp3.
Visit their Myspace.

Album Rating: 96.666%

First off, you should never judge a book by its cover. Unless that cover is for Portugal. The Man’s upcoming album, The Satanic Satanist (See the artwork below if you don’t believe me).

The band’s fourth proper LP drops on July 21, and boy oh boy is it a doozie. Its eleven tracks play like a collection of distilled moments of clarity for a band who continue to evolve and perfect and experiment with their sound. Well, after several hearty listens, I have to say I hope this album becomes not just another mile marker along their musical journey, but rather a beacon off shore, a light source as they sail ahead into the deeper, darker waters of notoriety. Because, if my suspicions are correct about the eminent reception of this album, they will need that beacon in the same way Modest Mouse needed it after Moon & Antarctica. (At this point, however, Modest Mouse need a life-boat to get back on board, but I digress.)

So what does The Satanic Satanist sound like, you ask? Well, if you have followed Portugal. The Man’s previous albums, starting with Waiter: “You Vultures!”, you will have seen an evolution from post-emo spazz rock to more of an art-folk indie vibe (is that even a vibe?). This album, however, is something different entirely. It’s actually deceptively hard to define, but if you will indulge an analogy for a moment: Imagine The Pixies calling up 311 (don’t ask) and inviting them over to Frank Black’s manse to throw a Sly and the Family Stone appreciation party. But half-way through the gala, evil cousins Ween crash in and send the whole night flying off course. And yet, somehow, impossibly, it all works, like a good magic trick.

There are hints of Yeasayer here, though not in a direct way; I think it has something to do with the fluctuating falsettos and experimental nature of both bands. There is also a spacey, pulpy, Jack Vance sci-fi undertone to several of the songs, but I’ll get to that later. You could do worse than to throw Phoenix into the mix as a point of loose comparison as well, for its laser-precise production and sheer pop appeal.

Reputed producer Paul Q. Kolderie, who has produced / mixed / engineered for such bands as Radiohead, Pixies, Uncle Tupelo, Lemonheads and Dinosaur Jr., produced The Satanic Satanist, which, when you listen to the fluidity and refinement of each track, I’d say it shows. It all flows so smoothly; the songs wash over you like the tide, slipping into your subconscious before you ever know what hit you. But by then, it’s far too late.

No song is too long (unlike this review), and if there is a guitar solo, it’s sixteen-bars, maximum. In fact, a few of the tracks are probably too short, based solely on the fact that I wanted more! Working, for the most part, within the confines of straight-ahead verse/chorus/verse structures along with the predictable refrains, bridges, reprises, and breakdowns of pop albums near and far, I found myself wondering how this album continued to surprise me turn after turn.

The lead vocals courtesy frontman John Gourley transform tightly wound, simple productions into all-out anthems. Crooning falsetto melds into quasi-rapping only to be proceded by the ooh’s and ahh’s we’ve come to know and love within the indie über-genre. He’s no Josh Groban, but I’ll take Gourley’s earnest brand of vocal delivery over the former any day of the week.

On the album opener, “People Say,” a very Ween a la “Your Party,” bass line kicks things off, until the chorus steals the show, reminding us why we loved bands like Blur and Oasis once upon a time. “What a lovely day, yeah we won the war / May have lost a million men but we’ve got a million more.” Look for your local college radio stations (XMU if you listen to satellite like I do) to play the hell out of this song (pun intended). This track reeks of song of the year potential.

The very next track, “Work All Day,” defies you not to bob your head along to its chain-gang style beat. It’s the proverbial summer bounce track, pivoting off a sick break beat and an infectious sing-in-the-shower chorus. I put it up there next to Grizzly Bear’s “Two Weeks,” as another easy contender for song of the year.

“The Sun,” reminds us why we wanted to love Magic Numbers when they first came out, but just didn’t have it in us. This is how you do it, fellas. It’s not about indulgent vocals or over-the-top production. Instead, “The Sun,” pulls it off with distant hand claps, a quirky yet convincing falsetto, and a true appreciation for the R&B greats of an almost forgotten era. “If you’re talking to the moon, the moon might sing about: / the universe shouting out: ‘I don’t need, I don’t need time.” Epic grooviness.

Other standout moments include the fuzzy, layered loveliness of “Do You,” in all of its Pixies-circa-“Where Is My Mind?” wonder; the ’64 Impala flavored badassedness of “Guns and Dogs;” and the soaring, angelic sweep of “Lovers in Love,” a song the Rosebuds wished they would have recorded when they still had the chance.

As the album unwinds, and its final three tracks lull us into a beautiful sense of quiet (dis)comfort, and the final words of the last track usher us away (“We’ll be just fine, We’ll be just fine, I don’t believe…”), you really have no choice but to circle back and play the whole thing again from the beginning, just to see if there was anything you missed, just to take the ride again.

I later discovered the entire LP is, in fact, a concept album designed to parallel a sci-fi story (written by Gourley himself, I believe) about a man who builds a rocket, is banished by his king, then flies into space in said rocket, and crash lands back onto Earth later on (but the planet is completely void of any signs of life now). Ummm, ok… I’m not saying you will discover this hidden story on your own, but it does explain the undeniable sense of narrative structure to the song cycle.

Where other acts have failed in their attempt at manufacturing a successful concept album (ahem, Decemberists), Portugal. The Man succeed in the best way possible: each song maintains its own distinct identity, while an undercurrents of cohesion flows through their collective veins. It’s also worth noting that this is a gapless album, meaning many of the songs run together without any pause in the instrumentation. I usually loathe this cheese ball tactic (especially on hip-hop albums), but here it truly works to build a seamlessness and connective tissue from one chapter to the next.

As I reflect upon The Satanic Satanist, I realize there is nothing satanic about the album at all. Rather, it is nothing if not a sunny, groovy, summer soirée with hooks and riffs and anthems sent down from a troupe of bearded angels donning unkempt wings. Not a jam album per se (not quite), but a work no doubt destined to turn heads (concert and blog-heads alike) later this season. I guess that means I’ll be turning my head twice, sort of like I was possessed…

Album Artwork: Austin Sellers

My friend Ryan Rothermel just wrapped shooting of a new promo for Portugal. The Man, along with another buddy, Robbie Johnstone. They sounded pleased and exhausted. I’m anxious to see how this bizarro setup edits together. Check out some of the behind-the-scenes shots below (check out the full set on Flickr, here).

Bat For Lashes and St. Vincent give credence to the phrase similar but different. Or is it different but similar? Either way, I want to take a moment to contrast and compare the two, and see if we can’t get to the bottom of who is better, if that is possible.

The Set-Up

Both of these bands are actually pseudonyms for two women singer/songwriters; Bat For Lashes is Natasha Khan, and St. Vincent is Annie Clark. Each have two LP’s under their belt, with each of their second respective LP’s having been released in 2009. Both women are under 30 years of age; Natasha is the older of the two at 29 (Annie is 26).

Both attended music school, with Natasha graduating from Brighton University and Annie dropping out of the Berklee College of Music after three years. Natasha won the Vanguard award in 2007. Annie won PLUG’s Female Artist of the year in 2008.

Annie’s experience in the industry began as a member of Sufjan Steven’s touring band. Natasha began recording music on her own while working as a nursery school teacher.

Annie is a Libra from Dallas, Natasha a Scorpio from Brighton. Both are brunette? Okay I’m reaching now…

The Critics

Their albums have been met with mostly critical acclaim. It’s hard to say who has made a larger impression upon the industry. St. Vincent made it to 90th on the Billboard 200 Chart, while Bat For lashes made it all the way to number 2 on the Billboard Top Heatseekers Chart. Pitchfork gave Two Suns, Bat For Lashes latest LP, an 8.5, and put her on their “Best New Music” list. St. Vincent received an eerily identical 8.5 by Pitchfork for her Actor LP, and coincidentally also made the “Best New Music” list.

The plot thickens.

The Sound

Bat For Lashes makes moody electronic music, no question about it. Her husky voice reminds us of Kate Bush and Björk at times. She conjures images of creepy dolls and lush forests and Smith’s t-shirts. Her arrangements are dense and dark, and her voice echoes against dank, damp, mossy walls. The sun shines through a swaying canopy in dusty, golden shafts.

St. Vincent sings in an also husky though more throwback style, in the spirit of mid-century acts like, I dunno, Lesley Gore maybe?Instead of gothic voo-doo dolls, Annie conjures up hallucinogenic angels flitting about heaven with neon halos. There’s a Lynchian-cum-Blue Velvet quality to her music. It is beautiful, but just a little bit off, like a porcelain patina over a rusted iron figurine.

The Verdict

It’s hard to say which of these bands are to be preferred. I think it depends on what mood you are in, and what type of a person you are. What is likely true, however, is that you would be hard-pressed to find a St. Vincent fan who doesn’t like Bat For Lashes, or vice versa.

What I find interesting is how rarely the two names come up in reviews and conversation. I’ve always noticed strong parallels between their accomplishments, even if the music itself is as different as The Stepford Wives and Lost Highway.

The Winner

Why, the listener, of course. But you saw that one coming, didn’t you?

Bat For Lashes “Daniel”

St. Vincent “Actor”

Video Rating: 78%

Patrick Daughters directed this promo for Grizzly Bear, the first of several I’m sure from their new album Veckatimest, due out May 26. In this clip, the four band members play the part of peculiar sunday school churchgoers singing their twisted hymn while seated in pews backed by stained glass panels. Shot after shot they ooh and they aah and they sing and they glow. You’ll notice fairly quickly that the band look a bit, um, different than you may have remembered. As they sing with independently blinking bug eyes and creepily rosy cheeks, we begin to suspect they have a secret they really want to share with us, and by the end we realize they most certainly do.

On paper, this promo could definitely work well and be interesting/disturbing. The problem, however, is that it requires a certain level of realism in order to succeed. I’m reminded of Chris Cunningham’s early videos and adverts, where he would distort faces to invoke a creepy, unsettling effect. He did it by convincing us that these alien humanoids really existed, and Cunningham shot them in a way where we felt he was just showing us the mutation on film.

I commend Daughters for taking a risk with this clip. The slow-motion camera work kept me engaged until the end, but I have to say it all looks a bit too Steve Madden in execution, seeming gimmicky where it could have been unnerving. The effect works better on Chris Bear and Chris Taylor than it does on Ed Droste and Daniel Rossen, though while trying to foreshadow the glowing climax of the promo, several shots come off like a Photoshop tutorial gone awry. And what was with those Sapphire Sparks filters at the end? Geez. Another nit pick, there’s a low angle quarter view shot at the end, where the band don’t have the eye effect on them; just sort of bugged me (pun intended).

In summary, amazing song, great album, mediocre launch video. Now let’s see what While You Wait for the Others and Cheerleader come out looking like when their videos arrive….

I still think they should have just used shots of my daughter dancing around to their song. Maybe I’m just a poor, jaded director after all.

I’ve been sworn to secrecy and can’t say too much, but just let me say this: I think you are all in for a very special treat come July 21, 2009.

(Album review forthcoming)