Ham1
The Underground Stream
Independent Release
originally published September 3, 2008
Oh, sweet harmonies. There is something so moving about hearing voices coming together in delicate unison that it makes you wonder why every band doesn't utilize the magic of harmony more often. Ham1 opens The Underground Stream with layers of voices over acoustic guitar, and if you're a sucker for Beatles-esque backing vocals, the intro proves to be a heart-melting welcome to a warm and breezy record.
The instrumental tracks, particularly the tropical sway of "Mel Bay," the haunting airiness of "Begonia," and the plush, almost Hawaiian feel of "The Underground Stream," provide the perfect soundtrack for lounging.
The plucked strings and slide guitars all get to work on your sore muscles, massaging away any signs of tension as you recline in that hammock or rock that porch swing.
Even when you're up on your feet and ready to roll, Ham1 keeps the mood light and carefree with acoustic-driven numbers like "Thylacine." When Jim Willingham sings "Woke up from my nap/ Velcro'd on my shoe straps/ Started off down the street, but I didn't know where I was going" on the track "I Wave Back," the lyrics could almost serve as an inner dialogue for the listener. It's a great tune to have buzzing in your earbuds as you take a leisurely stroll around town, and Willingham's observations and encounters might very well echo your own experiences: running into acquaintances, passing loitering smokers or awkwardly waving back at someone who wasn't waving at you...
If only we had a few more lazy summer days to fully indulge in Ham1's latest offering.
Clawjob
Manifest Destiny
Independent Release
originally published September 3, 2008
Okay, history didn't become history until it was written down, so it's weird to be analyzing an auditory record that purports to be all sorts of historical. That's what Manifest Destiny is; it's what Boston-based duo Clawjob does, and it's what I'm doing right at this moment. And not historical like James Brown at the Apollo, but historical like pertaining to our characteristic of history and past events: historical like Herodotus, but with less transparent bullshit. Musically, Manifest Destiny is a fine document, a multi-faceted record that's inspired but not blinded by its influences. As history, well, it might sound better than a Michael Winship lecture, but you ain't gonna learn shit about no Puritans.
So, yeah, Clawjob likes concepts and overarching themes, and on Manifest Destiny the band focuses on various events and attitudes from 19th-century American history. The common thread, more or less, is the failings of man, from the mind-numbed huffers of "Ether Frolic" to the unscrupulous con-men of "Diamond Hoax," and naïve optimism in the technology of the future. The concept might be only vaguely imparted, but the looser a band plays such things the more successful they generally are, so no complaints. And instead of indulging in 19th-century musical aesthetics, the songwriting and production are a stylistic grab-bag of late-20th-century ideas and textures. "The Era of Good Feelings" recalls Wire's second record Chairs Missing, and the dub-heavy "Ether Frolic" owes debt to later Unwound. In all, Manifest Destiny is a pretty damn fascinating record.
David Vandervelde
Waiting for the Sunrise
Secretly Canadian
originally published September 3, 2008
It's easy to determine the basis for endearment and understand the reasons why I've listened to Waiting for the Sunrise, the latest offering from Chicago-bred and Brooklyn-based songwriter David Vandervelde, over and over again. We share a common first name and a predisposition to grow an enviable unibrow. While our shared confluence of eyebrows is not nearly as notable as either Bert's or Bill Barry's, it's probably best we don't go down in history for the hair immediately above our eyes. The youthful Vandervelde should instead be revered for his pop rocking sensibilities, and maybe I'll be remembered as the scribe that offered an endorsement that began your love affair with said pop rocking sensibilities.
Lo-fi (“Hit the Road”), lysergic (“Old Turns”), nostalgic (“I Will Be Fine”) and occasionally perfect (“Someone Like You”), Vandervelde’s talent is obvious. This is the music teenage girls should let serve as their summer soundtrack while singing into their hairbrushes at pajama parties, ignoring pebbles tossed at windows by the curious boys in the neighborhood.
The album, seemingly born of an extended stay in an anonymous room at a beachfront hostel sipping duty-free rum, is best appreciated in the vinyl format because the Seals & Crofts (in spirit, if not always in sound), AM Gold vibe exuded can only be enhanced by a spinning petroleum disc.
Stereolab
Chemical Chords
4AD
originally published September 3, 2008
“Best-of” compilations can often signal the winding down of a band’s career, but as several bands have been proving - R.E.M. most recently, for instance and Stereolab with 2006’s Serene Velocity - they can serve instead as career markers: points from which to leave some things behind, points from which to move forward.
Chemical Chords is packed with toe-tapping melodies, memorable and deceptively simple and nodding to the U.K. group’s French-pop influences while not being fettered to them; check the harpsichord on tunes like “Three Women” and “Cellulose Sunshine.” A handful of the string sections on Chemical Chords even recall the soundtrack work of Curtis Mayfield; Motown sounds of the ‘70s, in fact, pop up throughout several tracks.
The album is tight and focused - more so than the band’s been in a decade - and is packed with baroque horn and string arrangements, equal parts dreamy and swoony as jaunty and peppy. But a song like “Pop Molecule (Molecular Pop 1)” lets the band’s more intellectual side come forth, with overwhelming horns and synth sounds layered over drum loops and other effects; it sounds like an Olivia Tremor Control track given a makeover and dressed up in a sharp, form-fitting two-piece suit. More than anything, Chemical Chords sounds like a band taking all its finest ideas from almost two decades of making music and winnowing them down into 14 brisk and beautiful songs.
Stereolab is playing at the 40 Watt Club on Saturday, Sept. 27.
The Faint
Fasciinatiion
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originally published September 3, 2008
Maybe it’s the song “The Geeks Were Right,” but it’s impossible to listen to The Faint’s Fasciinatiion without thinking of the Tri Lams rocking out at the end of Revenge of the Nerds. Remember that movie? It was the ultimate 1980s nerds vs. jocks comedy. It was a time when synthesizers were a part of any and every pop song; hip-hop was just breaking into the main stream; and the more ambitious rock and pop bands were gracelessly including science fiction into these elements. On Fasciinatiion, The Faint does this with style and charm, experimenting with a sound that is nostalgic and exciting at the same time, but ultimately disposable.
In an interview with the blog ShortAndSweetNYC.com, Todd Fink, the band’s lead singer and keyboardist, chides critics who lazily pigeonhole The Faint as having an '80s industrial sound. But at the same time, he embraces the concept that Fasciinatiion is an album by geeks for geeks. He goes on to describe the song “Machine in the Ghost” as something “really rhythmic, stripped down, and somewhat awkward sounding.” Fasciinatiion succeeds at making the awkward danceable, or at least something trippy to have fun with.
In the scene referenced above, the nerds who sought revenge demonstrated they could rock the stage just as well as they could build a robot to clean their dorm room. Not only is Fasciinatiion leaps and bounds better than Booger, Lamar, Louis and Gilbert’s effort, it fulfills the nerds’ promise of “a rockin’ rhythm and high-tech sound that’ll make you move your body down to the ground.”
Jennifer O’Connor
Here with Me
Matador
originally published September 3, 2008
New York’s Jennifer O’Connor is one of the bright talents trying valiantly to save the female singer-songwriter concept from coffeehouse cliché. Draped in grace and softness, she is the embodiment of its implied virtues. Existing on a pillow between Beth Orton and Kathleen Edwards, the warm woodwind of her voice is a model of elegant restraint, its rich tones painting an entire world within a world. But even its vulnerability and woolen comfort can’t belie the strength of soul that emanates from each syllable.
The gentle folk-pop here is stroked with a stately twang and indie sensibilities. Although the well-contained gestures favor unassuming simplicity over spectacle, the music penetrates with crystalline hooks and perfect melodies. The economical album maintains supreme focus on these fundamentals and surrounds them with acres of atmosphere instead of fussy garnish. The result is simple, sensual radiance.
“The Church and the River” caresses with a lover’s touch and “Credit in the Cost” falls with the ease of twilight. The organ-wrapped lushness and mid-tempo unfurling of “Always in Your Mind,” the album’s choice cut, is the sound of sweet ache.
The record features guest appearances from notables like The Hold Steady’s Franz Nicolay and Ben Folds, but O’Connor is the star here. Capturing rustic soul with much more concision and far less pretension than Cat Power, Here with Me succeeds through effortless execution of and unshakeable faith in core songwriting.
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