Amos Lee - Last Days at the Lodge
Amos Lee bears his soul on Last Days at the Lodge, a Don Was-produced set of tunes that rolls together like a private concert in an intimate setting. The Philly native has spent some serious time getting to know how things work in the industry, having toured with some of the all-time greats like Dylan and Van Morrison. With that experience in tow, Lee is evolving into a trustworthy and expressive alt-folk singer.
Last Days at the Lodge, his third album, sticks principally to the smooth approach that has pleased his fans since his 2005 self-titled debut. The basic components are still around, as most of the songs are unhurried and even-tempered. The production feels heartier, though, as the band’s attendance is felt boldly and the melodies are a bit more inclusive to other instruments than some of his previous work.
A perfect example of the band’s presence is the roomy and upbeat “Truth.” Lee is appropriate as the frontman in this type of Ben Harper rocker, digging deep to his unsophisticated side and throwing out lyrics like “Now they got me here at the lock-down for a crime I did commit” with the bluster of a barroom tough guy.
Lee first picked up a guitar as a college student and, since his discovery by Norah Jones, has since been collecting a nice little fan-base for his brand of folk rock. His humility is evidenced on his approach to each song here, but there are signs that he’s waiting to display a slightly tougher side.
Along with the swagger found on “Truth,” Lee out-preaches his title character on “Street Corner Preacher” in a funky 80s Dylan-esque song that should get some radio rotation.
But for all of the barn-burning songs, Lee cruises right back to his fundamentals for the bulk of Last Days at the Lodge.
The comforting arrangement of Spooner Oldham’s organ and Lee’s towering vocals create the extraordinary “What’s Been Going On,” one of the best tracks on the record, and the rest of the band mines a bit of country music with “Ease Back.”
Amos Lee’s Last Days at the Lodge fits agreeably with a sinking sun on a summer evening, as the upbeat songs won’t crack the mood and the relaxing melodies of songs like “It Started to Rain” and “Kid” will play right into the tranquil radiance of patio lanterns.
8/10
Martha Wainwright - I Know You’re Married But I’ve Got Feelings Too
Visions of Martha making her way down a fire escape frantically with the strap of a high-heeled shoe in her mouth and a wadded-up pair of panties gripped in her hand temper I Know You’re Married But I’ve Got Feelings Too with a sense of urgency and a sense of treachery and a sense of peril.
Part broken-hearted, part howl-at-the-moon, part soulful-shitstorm, the stellar youngest Wainwright is often noted for being a ball of emotion (most of it directed at the shitty parenting skills of Loudon Wainwright III) and a citadel of profane and unrefined impulse. She’s also despairingly needy and distressed; a true trickster with a hiked-up skirt and a wounded soul attached to the bottle.
Aw hell, it’s light and shade for all of us in the end anyway.
I Know You’re Married But I’ve Got Feelings Too exemplifies the gloomy patterns we fall into in hopes of finding pleasure. By focusing on our lost wishes and our frantic, obsessive dreams, we’re able to give a blessing to a small splinter of sunshine before once again shrinking back into the shadows to bear witness to our own devices.
It’s not surprising that the cover of Martha’s second album – and can you believe that? – features her prone on a sofa, legs bare, ready to victimize or be victimized. This record is that openness, it is that austerity, and it is that discrimination.
Take for instance “Bleeding All Over You,” fierce title and all. She messily lays her soul out and suffers the wounded results: “My heart was made for bleeding all over you/And I know you’re married but I’ve got feelings too/But I still love you.”
Martha seeks implicit approval incessantly and is incessantly frayed or flung by love and living, it seems. On “So Many Friends,” she bemoans the direction her life has taken. “I have lost so many friends/I have gained so many memories.”
Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Thankfully, dear Martha has found her way through the depths of her tormented choices and the directions her life has taken her. She is more than willing to look forward and courteously assembles what she can. “Comin’ Tonight” lets us know that she’s still searching for that encounter and is willing to forget it when it’s done.
But in the end, what can Martha do?
A tempest of bad choices – that’s why we love her – and a throng of heroic attempts rush through her life in song with frankness and audacity. She’ll get up again. She’ll climb down another fire escape. And we’ll be there, every step of the way.
8/10
Rustic Overtones - Light At The End
The fastest-selling local disc ever in the great state of Maine is Rustic Overtones’ latest, Light at the End. Marking the first album put out by the jazz/rock/funk band since their 2002 breakup, Light at the End is a vivacious and stirring album. It was originally released in Maine in July of 2007 as a self-release, but the record finally hit national record stores in March of 2008 via Velour Music.
Light at the End marks the first time I’ve actually heard Rustic Overtones. I was instantly infatuated with their funky-fresh vibe and their ability to slow it all down for contemplative and poignant tunes like “Letter to the President” and the haunting “Valentine’s Day Massacre.”
Led by Dave Gutter on vocals and guitar, Rustic Overtones is comprised of a host of players whose musical wisdom is apparent on each song. The band comes across as completely in love with the music they play and one gets a sense that a live performance from these guys would be nothing short of spectacular.
Spencer Albee plays a big part in the consistency of the band - playing piano, organ, and synthesisers throughout the album. Tony McNaboe is on drums; Jon Roods plays bass; Jason Ward is on baritone sax; Ryan Zoidis fills things out on tenor and alto sax; and David Noyes shows up with his trombone and plays ukulele on “Letter to the President.”
Light at the End is comprised of music mostly composed and written before the band broke up in 2002, but the album certainly feels fresh and new. The songs are diverse and run the gamut of sound from straightforward rock songs (“Rock Like War” and “Oxygen”) to sweeping ballads (“Hardest Way Possible”) that seem destined for outdoor concerts under moonlit skies.
Lyrically, Gutter discusses everything from war to puzzling romantic entanglements. On “Letter to the President,” he intones, “Days are getting longer / nights I never get to sleep / and I just had a newborn daughter that I hope I get to see” with such raw emotion that it required several listens of the song to gather the full expressive scope.
With Light at the End, Rustic Overtones will likely win some new fans. Their diverse sound and lyrical insight deserves to be heard and the band’s talent and passion for their music is tough to ignore.
8/10
Darla Farmer - Rewiring the Electric Forest
Picturing some Nashville bank teller with slick horn-rimmed glasses, a kitschy red sweater, and exorbitant amounts of make-up and perfume is probably a good way to distinguish Darla Farmer. Having drawn the name from a bank teller out of Music City that most likely matched that description, Darla Farmer is an unusual seven-piece collective with a job to do on Rewiring the Electric Forest, its full-length debut on Paper Garden Records.
I’ve had more genre discussions about bands like these than I’d care to remember. Sliding an album into the player and having friends walk in and wonder “What the hell is that?” has often been a significant part of my life and Darla Farmer would be sure to draw out a similar response. As such, I decided to tuck myself away for this one.
Good thing I did. Rewiring the Electric Forest is an enormously peculiar merger of frantic energy, folksy bedlam, and…yes, carnival rock. Reading the press release, I saw the term and laughed aloud, spitting milk everywhere.
Upon hearing “The Quotient,” I knew what they were on about. No sense cryin’ over spit milk, after all.
Remember having visions of those tiny cars and about 50 clowns packed in? That’s what comes to mind with Rewiring the Electric Forest and its eclectic liveliness.
When the first track pops open, it’s like a jack-in-the-box with a dorky smirk has just burst out of some hidden corner in your mind. Singer Clint Wilson bounds about like a ringleader to the most chaotic carnival freak show ever. The rest of the band stacks bleats of trombone, trumpet, piano, and guitar around Wilson’s wildness.
Wilson lisps and rambles tenaciously through “History” and other songs like it with the mumbling-and-stumbling delivery of a drunken circus clown with a bottle of Jack Daniels in the back pocket of his huge polka-dotted pants. Somewhere, Darla Farmer is giving someone the right change.
The contrast is funny, but entirely precise. Darla Farmer melds madness with modesty to form a fluent blend of Arcade Fire-meets-Frankenstein’s bride lunacy.
There’s a constitution to the carnival rock, as skilled work stretches the rock seams of “Mechanical Thoughts” to enchanting levels beyond the emblematic call-and-response that the song previews with its intro.
Other songs teasingly bound and fuss about, like the feverish “The Strangler Fig” and the Mexican hat dance from hell found on “Dirty Keys.”
The chaos doesn’t mean that Darla Farmer doesn’t have a strong sense of gorgeous melody, however. Tracks like the dazzling and hilariously-titled “The Cow That Drank Too Much” and the pensive “The Vigilant Mr. Lynch” show the band’s softer gentler side. The instruments come together admirably, slowing things down under the Big Top.
Still, Darla Farmer isn’t for everyone. The album reads like a frenetic admonitory tale of a carnival funhouse that eats its guests and then falls in love with them. The vivacious and often startling efforts of Wilson and Co. are always fascinating, never inert, and constantly sprouting from song to song so that Rewiring the Electric Forest feels like a journey of progress and yearning.
8/10
Emily Saxe - Keeping You in Mind
The sun rose this morning and poked through the mist in the backyard. Emily Saxe’s Keeping You in Mind found itself in heavy rotation again and worked a little like breakfast for the soul. The album’s sweetness and down-home feel gives it a tender quality, making it ideal for watching the day unfold.
Saxe issued her three previous albums while living in Thailand, but she’s returned home to America to release her fourth recording. She has seen two of her albums make the jazz Top 10 in Hong Kong, Bangkok, and Thailand. She performed at the Sydney Opera House. For some reason, though, Emily Saxe seems a lot more suited to my breakfast table.
Listening to Saxe sing these songs is like talking to an old friend over coffee. Her conversational style brings new life to old favourites, making the songs her very own. Saxe proves her range with efficiency, too. She’s able to belt out an old-style spiritual that was sung by Judy Garland (“Get Happy”) and move seamlessly into a Bacharach tune (“Walk On By”) without losing the flow of the conversation.
Emily hooked up with bassist-producer David Piltch for Keeping You in Mind. The connection led to a new sound for the new album, as Piltch had Saxe throw out the piano and rely on a more guitar-driven sound. Emily grew up playing the piano, her mother played the piano, and her grandfather played the piano, so it was a little like getting rid of an old friend. Nevertheless, the guitar-based arrangements work wonders and the album sounds reflective and intimate.
As I’m pouring another cup of coffee (seems like I’m always doing that), Saxe embarks on the Rodgers and Hart tune “He Was Too Good To Me.” The arrangement is sparse, but her easy style helps bring the sad song home to roost. As in one of the best songs on the album, “Last Day of Summer,” it’s Saxe’s command over the vocals that make the album what it is. The musical arrangements are nice, sure, but without Emily Saxe at the wheel, this would be just another folksy Americana record.
Keeping You in Mind is a gentle album, perfect for introspection or light conversation. The musical arrangements mesh well with Saxe’s voice to make an understated and calming record. As I drain the last cup (before the next one), I wave goodbye to Emily Saxe and feel like I’ve made a new friend.
7/10
Destroyer - Trouble in Dreams
For those acquainted with the exciting world of Canadian indie rock, Dan Bejar is probably a household name. With his name attached to The New Pornographers, Swan Lake, and Destroyer, one might claim that Bejar is an indie megastar. The latter might sound like a death metal band to the less inclined, but Destroyer is more akin to Pavement or Guided by Voices than it is to Iron Maiden or Metallica.
With Trouble in Dreams, Bejar expands on the full band sound that served him so well on 2006’s brilliant Destroyer’s Rubies (one of my favourite albums from that year). Bejar has little use for trends or “what the kids are listening to.” Instead, with Trouble in Dreams, he pours himself into the music and lets it wander where it must.
The lead single, “Foam Hands,” has the typical perplexing lyrical style known to Bejar fans, but it also has a gently slow gait and a resolute progression. The full band feel is in full swing and this one feels a bit like a lilting Neil Young tune.
Other tunes come together under Bejar’s watchful eye beautifully, with the hazy and pompous wall of guitar greeting us on “My Favorite Year” or the self-parody of the nomadic tale of woe found on “Plaza Trinidad,” a truly peculiar song. The latter owns one of the meanest riffs I’ve heard in a long time, tucked beneath the maddening vocals and damn near fanatical chord progressions. “I couldn’t believe how loud it was,” Bejar sings before trailing off like a madman.
Working off the skeleton of Destroyer’s Rubies really does a lot of favours here, as the songs are profound and intricate. Bejar has obviously been arranging with a sort of showy, swaggering flamboyance. The songs are exploratory and his lyrics dance around the arrangements, refusing to play by the rules. Bejar rebels against rhythm and meanders a lot, which can either be gratifying or aggravating.
With “Leopard of Honor,” he does his best to make you choose between whether this is all a bit too absurd or whether it’s good enough to avoid being used on some Starbucks compilation. The album’s final track, “Libby’s First Sunrise,” is a soft and absorbing ballad… with hand claps.
Trouble in Dreams is a unique album. Stunningly arranged and knowingly pretentious, Bejar and Destroyer sound magnificently in control and, at the same time, reluctant passengers going where the music takes them. With strings, shifting time signatures, winding compositions, and eccentric but beguiling vocals, Trouble in Dreams is rock candy for indie fans.
8.5/10
