Continuing with the stream of CMJ-bound artists, The Library are a bit different from what many expect at a festival of CMJ’s often frenetic vein. Often popular for artists that tout theatrical art-rock, synth-pounding dance-pop, or other forms of danceable bliss with high tempos, the audience at CMJ may initially be startled to hear this Brooklyn five-piece’s serene interpretation of folk. Deriving members from The Mayflies USA and The Comas, The Library draw most prominently from influences of ’70s. Neil Young’s more reflective material (On the Beach) is one of them, as are others that were precursors to the psyche-folk movement of the ’70s. The Library tend to integrate these influences with retrospective views of ’90s alternative-rock, even if the components are so subtle that only committed fans of certain artists could recognize them. Maybe it was how bands in the vein of Slowdive, Ride, and Spiritualized collided defiant alternative-rock with reverb-heavy doses of ’70s pop and folk, resulting in a path between shoegaze and nostalgic pop that established such artists as the most effective of the ’90s. Either way, The Library are safely following a similar path in attaining success through manipulating our perceptions of a style or genre often deemed as nostalgic.

Vocalist Matt Long is hardly a far cry from The Clientele’s Alasdair MacLean in vocal range and delivery, both using their admiration for ’60s pop and its subsequent sub-genre concoctions to create a world where melodies are both frail and beauty, with the emitted emotions being genuine and memorable. The Library’s new album, The Life and Times of Rosa Lee, combines this emotive sensibility with nostalgic stylistic references to compel listeners into a substantial accomplishment. “Tomorrow is Better” adds a slight twang to the predictably smooth accompaniment of hazy acoustics and usable percussion, adding in a harmonica for further effect over the subtle accompaniment of keys. This natural arsenal of instrumentation – guitar, rhythm, lap steel, and harmonica – generally compares to their earlier influences, even if the production is polished enough to easily spot its origination in the ’90s or ’00s. Slight components, like the lap steel arpeggio during the first verse, tend to sound more modernistic, while the beautiful bridge into a simplistically alluring chorus sounds like the work of a lost legend from the ’60s. “Tomorrow is Better” summarizes the sound of The Library exceptionally, it being a soothing and ethereal journey into the derivations of ’60s pop and folk while maintaining an emphasis on contemporary folk.

The romanticized contemplation expressed in “Tomorrow Is Better” serves well for the album’s general theme, with the opening “Wish I Knew” also expressing similar sentiments. Long’s vocals are particularly high-pitched but also relaxed here, probably adjusted for the use of strings that are similar in pitch. The result is a cohesively masterful arrangement that collides Long’s tenderly forlorn vocals, slow and emotive strings, and moderately paced acoustics into a breathtakingly exceptional track that serves as the perfect opener for The Life and Times of Rosa Lee. “You can call me up most anytime at all,” Long offers, merely requesting one chance to prove his point, “I promise not to be like them.” The Library are hardly like the others after all, abiding by their own standard and interpretation of nostalgic pop despite prevalent resemblances to The Clientele and other mood-based groups. Although it is certainly more of a mood track than one bursting with hooks, there are other tracks like “Tomorrow Is Better” and “Club Amnesia” on The Life and Times of Rosa Lee that emphasize more hooks than mood, with the self-titled cut also being one of them.

Keys and strings take over in absence of the initial acoustics on “The Life and Times of Rosa Lee”, leaving little room for vocal errors on Long’s part. The performance, barring one or two melodic miscues, is extremely commendable and genuine, its lo-fi production serving as the perfect closer to a highly impressive release that should provide some nice press for The Library before their CMJ appearance later this week. When the acoustics pick up after Long’s lyrics compel the listener about the overdue formation of a certain band, one can sense the passion for musical ingenuity within the songwriting and delivery. That their styles may derive from the past should only serve to supplement The Library’s amiable level of enjoyment. After all, in kicking off a decade of supposed stylistic declassification, everything seems fair game at this point.

RIYL: The Clientele, Slowdive, Belle & Sebastian, Felt, Neil Young, Ride

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The Library – Tomorrow Is Better

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The Library – Wish I Knew

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The Library – The Life and Times of Rosa Lee

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Official Web Site

MySpace

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The post Brooklyn’s Favorite Library appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

Belle & Sebastian have always been one of the finest examples of how simplicity and intricacy are not exclusive entities in music. The Glasgow-based group’s melodies have always been extremely accessible; the arrangements feature consuming assortments of keys and orchestral elements that are smoothly integrated under Stuart Murdoch’s wistful, choir boy-like vocals. His delivery is filled with a harmonically satisfying touch of innocence, making his elaborate lyrical content catch many first-time listeners off guard when they come to expect stories of generic romance. Murdoch’s accessible exterior is upheld by a thought-provoking interior that has done extraordinary justice on the common perception of Belle & Sebastian. Murdoch is a gifted songwriter and most of his content exceeds indie-pop contemporaries by a long mile, but it is his subtle ambition that has made Belle & Sebastian one of the most recognizable groups of the indie-pop era. Murdoch’s touches of conceptual and metaphorical brilliance within an instantaneously accessible vein of pop music has earned them rampant comparisons to Simon & Garfunkel. They were responsible for bringing an accessible but poetically invigorating form of folk-rock to the masses in the late ‘60s, and Belle & Sebastian did similarly in the late ‘90s with their blissful interpretation of indie-pop. Their success has continued this decade, and a new project from Murdoch is further indication of his willingness to fuse a simple concept with enjoyable intricacies that are quite easy to overlook.

It is almost painful for music fans to recognize that there are thousands of songs written by legendary artists that will never be uncovered, all because the artist deemed the material not suitable enough for a certain album or style that was synonymous with them or their label. Murdoch has released seven albums and numerous EPs since 1996, so his work ethic is of no question. It also means that, like many other musicians, he likely has a bunch of songs lying around that will never see the light of day. Belle & Sebastian’s remarkable consistency shows that they comprehend quality though, so I doubt Murdoch could go without releasing something worthwhile if he has it on his shelf. Murdoch revealed his initial intentions surrounding his new project, God Help the Girl, in August 2007, stating in a blog entry that he was looking for three vocalists (two girls, one guy) to help him with it. Contestants submitted a self-portrait and a recording of their vocals over instrumental versions of two Belle & Sebastian songs, “Funny Little Frog” and “The Psychiatrist Is In.” Belle & Sebastian are typically seen as rather low-key in their recording methods, rarely reaching for the grandiose or overly spectacular. But this method, while different, coincides with the group’s personable music in that they do not need big names to achieve success. In fact, one of the main stars on God Help the Girl is making her first major appearance.

For God Help the Girl, the style of music may be a tinge different, but the level of quality remains the same. The official web site coins God Help the Girl as a mixture of “musicals, sixties’ girl groups, eighties’ indie and, most of all, classic pop records.” The charm of Murdoch’s songwriting and the Belle & Sebastian band’s background instrumentation is familiar and constantly refreshing, but the additional emphasis on the girl-group pop ideology provides a fascinating flux toward Murdoch’s chirpy indie-pop or acoustical tales. Catherine Ireton won the user-submitted grand prize and is the lead vocalist on most of the project’s album, presenting an extremely powerful voice that is ardent enough to fit both in the girl groups of the ‘60s and the fashionable indie-rock of the ‘80s. If her voice sounds familiar to Belle & Sebastian fans then that is because she provided backing vocals on The Life Pursuit’s “White Collar Boy.” It is not all Ireton and Murdoch on the album though, as Belle & Sebastian’s fame has admittedly awarded them with some privileges. A 45-piece orchestra directed by Rick Wentworth (Withnail & I) appears throughout the album, and The Divine Comedy’s Neil Hannon lends his orchestral-pop chops on the highly amusing “Perfection as a Hipster.” Hannon and Murdoch, both brilliant songwriters in their own right, provide for a fantastic collaboration that capitalizes on both of their oddball pop appeal. In addition to the excellent collection of songs on God Help the Girl, it eludes to several potential collaborative successes; Hannon-Murdoch, Murdoch-Ireton, and even Hannon-Ireton (as shown on “Perfection as Hipster”) are all successful collaborations, which serves appropriate on an album that shows collaboration as an excellent practice when under the watchful eyes of someone as talented as Murdoch.

In regard to the correspondence between Murdoch, Ireton, and their shared girl-group fetish, the self-titled track plays with the clichés of girl groups while maintaining originality, modernistic relevance, and the majestic pop songwriting that one could come to expect on any great Belle & Sebastian album. “There is no way I’m looking for a boyfriend,” Ireton begins the track, her vocals prominent over a poppy bass line and a combination of subdued guitars and keys. In typical ‘60s pop fashion, the strings kick in during the chorus as Ireton unveils the song’s hook in excellent fashion. The lyrical content is more straightforward than one would expect from Murdoch, but one has to keep in mind the track’s resemblance to girl-group pop. If there were any interpretable tangents, it would have been a detriment. Also, since God Help the Girl is designed to serve as the basis and soundtrack for a Murdoch-written movie by the same name, one would have to assume that all the content is precisely crafted here. The film starts production in 2010 and though no one can say for sure whether it will be good or not, the one certainty is that the film’s soundtrack will be great.

“Musicians, Please Take Heed” is another stroke of excellence, being more brooding and developmental than most of the tracks on the album. The transition in mood is reminiscent of how The Shangri-Las were able to infuse a girl-group delivery into songs that were bleaker than the ‘60s pop stereotype suggests. The elaborate explanation of hallucinogens and drug-induced hallucinations is more indicative of Murdoch’s usual intricacies here, and the sweeping strings over the steady woodwinds and brisk bass line provide excellent support for a track that serves as one of the biggest stylistic successes on the album. Upon my first several listens though, God Help the Girl shows that it certainly has what it takes to rank among Belle & Sebastian’s finest material, even if Murdoch claims it too be different from his usual material. Regardless, it succeeds tremendously and echoes the similar sentiments of consistency, melodic appeal, and replay-ability that have made Belle & Sebastian household names in indie-pop. If one is a fan of either girl groups or Belle & Sebastian, this one is definitely worth picking up when it is released on June 22nd. And if you are a fan of both, this may end up being one of your yearly favorites.

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God Help the Girl – God Help the Girl

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God Help the Girl – Musicians, Please Take Heed

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God Help the Girl – Perfection as a Hipster

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Official Web Site

MySpace

Matador Records

The post God Help the Girl appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

One hit wonders are certainly a fascinating concept. An artist with the fortune of executing one brilliant idea can live quite a luxurious lifestyle with minimal work, even if most artists who instead release numerous albums that are all enjoyable often end up barely scraping by. Sure, most of us can agree that the music industry does not reward its inclined occupants based on effort, but what is the deciding factor then? Most of the time, it seems to be based on chance and commercial reception more than anything else, which hinders the ability that independent music has to emit originality and selflessness. The effect may be indirect, but the hordes of artists that compete for the one breakthrough single that earns them a cool million or two inherit an ideology that proves detrimental to the values of artistry in general. Striving for monetary success is an ideal that has been firmly enforced in society, even if its tendency to overlap into business, sports, and the arts has caused aspects like effort, commitment, and morality to lower themselves within the hierarchies of success. Independent music, though, seems to retain selfless intuitions for success. It seems to prevail momentously in the arts, mainly because the results affect its followers on an emotional level.

Existing within this realm of independent music in a form that is too transparent for their evident talents, The Kingsbury Manx are a fine example of a group that have never been deterred by the allure of cheap ambition. Their four albums, all released this decade, have shown the North Carolina-based quartet to be a band that values consistency just as much as they do radio-friendly accessibility. It would be hard to select any of their four albums as their best, as their lush mixture of throwback pop and country (with tinges of psychedelia and rock) has remained a successful concoction that has never grown tiresome or uninspired on any of The Kingsbury Manx’s releases. The group’s history is pretty traditional, as they follow a long line of schoolmates-turned-bandmates that met in middle school, separated for a bit in college, and then reunited to infuse their artistic compatibility. For college, the four members all stayed within the boundaries of North Carolina, with half attending UNC-Chapel Hill and the other two studying at Wilmington. Both The Kingsbury Manx’s adoration for their home state and their unintimidating demeanor is indicative on their MySpace, where their celebratory response to UNC’s NCAA win is profiled in a plethora of photos. It looks like the MySpace for a high school sports fan rather than a professional band, but it fits surprisingly well with The Kingsbury Manx’s unpretentiousness and artistic values.

The Kingsbury Manx’s rise to success has been slow but steady, seeming to escalade slightly with each successive release. Their four albums came within the span of 2000 to 2005, demonstrating a rapid sense of workmanship in addition to the consistency that eventually resulted in a sizable fanbase by the release of their previous album, The Fast Rise and Fall of the South, in 2005. Four years has probably seemed like a lifetime to fans that were accustomed to The Kingsbury Manx’s quick releases of LPs and EPs, but it has certainly paid off with the release of their fifth album, Ascenseur Ouvert!. Their sound has always been accessible, mainly because of the influence that British ‘60s pop has had on them. The Kinks, The Byrds, and even Pink Floyd’s lighter fare have a prominent influence on The Kingsbury Manx’s fusion of blissful chamber-pop and ‘60s psychedelia. Beginning with their second album, Let You Down, The Kingsbury Manx have explored more ambitious moods and styles in addition to their accessible vein of pop. Each album has appeared to involve more modernistic styles like alt-rock or Americana, but their admiration of ‘60s British pop remains prevalent. On Ascenseur Ouvert!, the four-piece have used their decade-long experience and growing stylistic ambitiousness to present an impressive release that capitalizes on both their British influences and native American roots.

As a whole, Ascenseur Ouvert! is accessible from the get-go due to an approach that uses both the group’s conception of familiar pop music and an album format that features short-but-sweet tracks that rarely exceed four minutes. These never seem to waste even a second of time though, as the lush vocal harmonies and melodic assortment of keys and acoustics make tracks like “If You’re on the Mend, I’m on the Move” and “These Three Things”. The infectious “Over the Oeuvre” is more brisk with its pulsating keys and trickling synth line, but the vocals of guitarist Bill Taylor and drummer Ryan Richardson are serene and whimsically delightful enough to make even chaos seem uncharacteristically relaxing. Save for the budding strings of “Minos Maze” and the subtle orchestral usage in “Shoulder Stories” and “Well, Whatever”, the album never strays far from a familiar and consistent stylistic territory. The aforementioned tracks with orchestral implementation tend to echo contemporary chamber-pop acts like Field Music or Belle & Sebastian in their approach, occasionally resulting in even greater heights than on throwback Brit-pop efforts. Even on those though, the album reaches sweeping heights that rivals all of The Kingsbury Manx’s previous efforts. They may not have reached household-name status yet, but their consistency should pay off after Ascenseur Ouvert! is warmly received. Not everyone needs a one-hit-wonder to achieve success; for The Kingsbury Manx and most enduring artists, their eventual recognition will arise from consistency and durability.

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The Kingsbury Manx – Well, Whatever

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The Kingsbury Manx – If You’re on the Mend, I’m on the Move

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The Kingsbury Manx – Over the Oeuvre

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Odessa Records

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The post The Kingsbury Manx appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

Everyone has an album that personally defines nostalgia at its finest. For me, putting on something like the Smashing Pumpkins’ Siamese Dream or Radiohead’s OK Computer brings me back to the days where the most important thing on my plate was an eighth grade math quiz. Throughout the years, some albums retain their level of brilliance, others sound outdated, and a handful might even sound better. Regardless, there is nothing shameful in listening to something for its nostalgic reverence, as these albums often encompass the tracks that would be put on some cheesy “Soundtrack of Our Life” feature. We envision a certain place, person, or event when the song begins, reminding us – for better or worse – why exactly we were so drawn towards the song in the first place. When Woodpigeon, a Calgary-based octet, were compiling the bulk of material on Treasury Library Canada, they were doing so as a break of sorts from working on their first album, Songbook. Frustration was mounting as vocalist/guitarist Mark Hamilton found difficulty in perfecting Songbook, an album that was warmly received when it eventually came out in 2006, and he used the songwriting for Treasury Library Canada as a relief of sorts. Several years after the release of Songbook, Hamilton decided to give those “relief tracks” another listen for the sake of outside acclaim and simple nostalgia.

The material that would later appear on Treasury Library Canada did remind Hamilton of his struggles with completing Songbook, but it also gave him insight as to how his songwriting could sound when it is focused, undeterred, and genuine. These were aspects that were noticeable throughout Songbook, but not nearly in the way that is successfully demonstrated on Treasury Library Canada. There is more consistency in the first five tracks than Songbook could generate throughout the entire album, another result of Hamilton’s unintentionally focused attempt at crafting a quality album without the hindrance of a deadline or assorted pressures. It seems ironic that the juxtaposition of both pressure and serenity resulted in the success of Treasury Library Canada, as the stress of producing Songbook provided Woodpigeon with the focus and relaxation required to result in the success of Treasury Library Canada. And coming back to that aspect of nostalgia, Hamilton compared the process of rediscovering Treasury Library Canada as a quality release to that of “the idea of pulling down some books from your childhood that you’d never even read then, and realizing how amazing they are”. Being one of the songwriters, Hamilton was obviously familiar with the substance of the songs, but he was never able to recognize their beauty without the willingness to reflect upon an aspect of his career that he could have easily, but erroneously, deemed as forgettable.

Comprised simply of friends that love playing music together, the eight members of Woodpigeon generally came together through word-of-mouth. Friends of Hamilton began hearing his songs and were so captivated by them that they could not resist offering their help. Well, I guess you could classify it then as “word-of-music”, but you can get the idea how quality songwriting often equates to quality collaborators. It is certainly not difficult to get engrossed in Hamilton’s music either, as it emits a pleasant aroma of folky indie-pop that sits somewhere between the poetically infectious brilliance of Elliott Smith and the indie-pop wit of The Shins. With that in mind, I suppose an act like Belle & Sebastian fits the mold, since their infusion of both memorable lyrical sentiments and catchy pop melodies concoct an intelligent form of pop music that has become the go-to genre for many with the desire to check out indie-pop for the first time. The most impressive thing about Treasury Library Canada is how accessible it manages to be while also invoking a sense of considerable ambition, mainly outlined in the often unpredictable structures and Hamilton’s astute ability to intertwine complex melodies in a precise and organized fashion. The instrumentation remains within the realm of conventionally orchestral indie-pop – with an assortment of strings and woodwind accompanying guitars, bass, and percussion – but the songwriting presented on the album is frequently something to marvel at. Now, since Boompa Records imported in Treasury Library Canada in early February, all listeners will have the privilege.

Considering the quality exhibited on Treasury Library Canada, it is hard to believe that Hamilton did not even initially consider it to be a proper follow-up to Songbook. A song like “Love in the Time of Hopscotch”, with its quick progression of sparkling keys and contagious male-female duet, has much of what it takes to become a successful single. This shows the most accessible side of Woodpigeon, but they still never stray too far into forcedly unconventional territory. “I Live A Lot of Places” begins with the gradual accompaniment of several violins, each joining in sporadically to complete the melody. Before the acoustic guitars and steady percussion shifts into a very amiable folk song, a very quick but beautiful rush of strings establish how many hidden treasures lay in this song, among many others throughout the album. The strings re-appear on the passionate and successful “Anna, Girl in the Clocktower” in a more volatile form, gently cleaning up the fuzz from the guitar distortion and heavy bass. The tender “A Moment’s Peace for Mary Christa O’Keefe” benefits from Hamilton’s effective vocal delivery, one which relies on a slight quiver as it forces its way to the forefront above the warm acoustics. A burst of instrumentation occurs slightly after the two-minute mark, but many listeners will likely prefer its preceding accompaniment for its simplistic qualities. But even if some tracks take a route that will have listeners scratching their heads, Hamilton’s gift of songwriting usually leads the listener the right way. We will see if this trend continues when Woodpigeon release their third album, Die Stadt Muzikanten, later this year.

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Woodpigeon – Love in the Time of Hopscotch

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Woodpigeon – I Live a Lot of Places

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Woodpigeon – Anna, Girl in the Clocktower

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Official Web Site

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The post Woodpigeon Take Flight appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

When describing The Lady Vanishes, Andy DeLoach chooses a method that would make most travel magazines proud. Almost making his solo music project out to be a luxurious hotel located in some exotic country, few would guess that he mainly relies on a simplistic blend of folk and pop music to perfect his craft. “The Lady Vanishes offers the most luxurious of musics for your relaxed bachelor lifestyle,” his MySpace boasts. “Qualified Songs are waiting to serve your every need and perhaps even get stuck in your head.” Such hyperbolic statements are usually meant for fun and little more than that, but the charm of DeLoach’s musical output is appealing and accessible enough to make the travel review method a rather attractive attempt at catching the attention of those already familiar with the world of contemporary folk-pop. The tour guide, Andy DeLoach, describes himself modestly in saying he is little more than an obsessive of ‘60s pop greats in the vein of The Beatles and The Zombies. DeLoach only recently turned 21 but his youthfulness does not lead to any signs of expected immaturity within his songwriting. He has been writing songs and collaborating with other musicians for years, most notably with Troy Stains (multi-instrumentalist in the recently featured gem from The Explorers Club) in a musical relationship that is continuing to blossom. “We’re trying to start a songwriting partnership that will provide songs for today’s musical scene the same way Burt Bacharach did for his,” DeLoach explains, already providing his veneration for influential artists of the past with wholesome intentions.

Such aspirations may seem a bit lofty for a 21-year-old without much credit to his name, but based on what DeLoach has offered on his self-titled EP, it may not be as farfetched as it initially seems. Based out of the “exotic locale” of Atlanta, The Lady Vanishes offers up plenty enjoyment in a simplistically appealing format. If one were keeping up with DeLoach’s hotel comparisons, calling the project something of a surprisingly affordable gem of a resort in a country with little to no western recognition would be accurate; there is more to it than meets the eye.“Karen, Don’t Stop Him” falls somewhere between the amiable lore of Simon & Garfunkel and Belle & Sebastian, guided by DeLoach’s boyish vocals and the gentle strumming of an acoustic guitar. “Karen don’t stop him, it’s only mid-day,” he sings as the subtle emergence of an organ occurs, softening the guitars in the process as a solidified rhythm section becomes prevalent. The twang of an electric guitar shortly follows, establishing DeLoach’s folk technique in which a naively pleasant melody is built upon by several other similarly laced instruments in an effort to boast a worthwhile hook. The track touches upon the common perspective of fate’s involvement in life’s routine, being an easygoing example of DeLoach slight metaphorical tendencies.

“Eliza at the Museum” is the most ambitious out of the three featured tracks, mainly due to cohesive adjustment between the “mmm”-ing backing vocals and the build-up effect of the involved instruments as they subtly increase in tempo before collapsing. DeLoach’s tends to stray inside the realm of conventional folk-pop and his ambitious nature appears to be at a halt as of now, “Wrapped in Cloth (All So We Can Love)” is more reminiscent of standard folk. Though the twinkle of bells adds for a nice touch in the conclusion, I am relatively certain that it was primarily written as a b-side or demo. Nevertheless, the unsigned DeLoan has already captured a good amount of buzz in Atlanta and his future appears quite bright, best evidenced by the affable characteristics of “Karen, Don’t Stop Him” and “Eliza at the Museum”.

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The Lady Vanishes – Karen, Don’t Stop Him

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The Lady Vanishes – Eliza at the Museum

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The Lady Vanishes – Wrapped in Cloth (All So We Can Love)

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MySpace

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I was considering devoting an entire post to Sparks before I realized that I had done so already about two years ago, shortly after this site had just gotten underway. In the post, I gathered a few MP3s from my 8 favorite Sparks albums, all of which were released during a period ranging from the early ’70s to present day. As I said a few years ago and will say again today, Sparks is easily one of the most stylistically eclectic acts of the past 40 years and most people are generally only able to count on one hand the number of bands who have achieved success for as long and as consistently as the Mael brothers. Releasing at least a few albums each decade for the past 4 decades, the longevity is impressive but what has built Sparks’ cult following mainly traces back to their form of songwriting which seems to never get old or overused. I personally prefer their first three albums to anything they did afterward but the sheer fact that I can listen to any Sparks album from any decade and find myself enjoying it impressive to me in its own right.

For album #21 in their sprawling discography, I would feel as if I were doing myself and others an injustice by not at least mentioning Exotic Creatures of the Deep. Apart from being arguably the best thing they have released since 1994’s Gratuitous Sax & Senseless Violins, it simply solidifies the sentiment that the Mael brothers have no expiration date for cranking out quality tracks. What has been very prevalent throughout their most recent releases has been an increased comedic tone, suggested merely by the title of memorable tracks like “Dick Around”, “Ugly Guys With Beautiful Girls”, and “What Are All These Bands So Angry About?”. This is a continuing trend on Exotic Creatures of the Deep, only this time being supplemented by an even more eclectic (it IS actually possible!). There is a noticeable increase in the use of guitar, a feature that should delight fans of their rock-oriented material from the early ’70s. Still though, most of the tracks are led by Ron Mael’s keys and a series of orchestral arrangements. Anyone with a comprehension of The Smiths or Morrissey should chuckle at “Lighten Up, Morrissey”, a very enjoyable effort that contains a fusion of guitars and keys that remains very reminiscent of their ’70s works. The track does not mock on Morrissey, but rather the tortured men who weep themselves to sleep every night because of a little thing called rejection. Somewhat oddly, the band considers it a tribute to Moz, as the duo and former Smiths frontman have requited admiration for one another (Morrissey’s lyrics usually stray on the unrequited side of things).

In addition to “Lighten Up, Morrissey”, other highlights include the synth-fused infectiousness of “I Can’t Believe That You Would Fall For All The Crap In This Song” and the piano-led “Good Morning”, the latter being the album’s debuting single. Both rely prevalently on melodic repetition amongst transitioning lyrical deliveries, with the topics containing plenty of witty one-liners and consequential hooks in typical Sparks fashion. Whether guitars lead the way in the contagious “Lighten Up, Morrissey”, synths carry the dance-pop flair in “I Can’t Believe That You Would Fall For All The Crap In This Song”, pianos aid a brisk progression on “Good Morning” and the hilarious mock on superficiality in “Photoshop”, or strings flow vigorously alongside all of the aforementioned instruments in “Strange Animal” and the infectious “This is the Renaissance”, Exotic Creatures of the Deep contains enough diversity to make even the most dedicated and harshest of Sparks fans contemplate deeply whether or not Sparks’ 21st studio album will land in their all-time top 10. It is certainly too early to decide such matters, but Exotic Creatures of the Deep undoubtedly serves as yet another extremely commendable feat from the talented Mael brothers.

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Sparks – Lighten Up, Morrissey

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Sparks – This is the Renaissance

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Sparks – Good Morning

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Official Web Site

MySpace

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The post The Lady Vanishes; Sparks Carry On appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

With acclaimed artists like Belle & Sebastian, Franz Ferdinand, and Mogwai becoming highly reputable names over the past few years, even the youngest of indie-rock fans are beginning to recognize the Scottish town of Glasgow as arguably the most productive city for new and talented musicians. While one would be able to make a compelling argument for other cities being more active in relevance to music-related quantities or other financial matters, the music scene in Glasgow has always been recognized as ceaselessly exciting due to the sheer amount of stylistic variety. There are no forms of stereotypical rock ‘n’ roll, hip hop, or country to be expected from the city’s most successful artists, but rather a smörgåsbord of different artists who achieve success from stylistic methods that differ dramatically from one another. Whether one prefers the epic post-rock of Mogwai, contemporary indie-rock in the vein of Franz Ferdinand and The Fratellis, or varied legends of their craft like Aztec Camera, Teenage Fanclub, and Orange Juice, Glasgow is a city where musical tastes are not a variable factor in an equation for artistic enjoyment; one will find some form of localized satisfaction regardless of their preferences, as the city offers a plethora of artists suited for a wide array of tastes.

Though Glasgow serves up plenty of artists who take their style from no geographical archetypes, Frightened Rabbit happen to be a band that American and British fans will have a difficult time differentiating from the form of indie-rock that they have grown accustomed to. I mean that mainly as a compliment too, as the four-piece sees substantial success from a generally accessible methods of successful indie-rock songwriting that rely on overlapping vocal melodies, driving guitar progressions, and steadfast rhythm sections in similar forms to that of western indie-rock staples like Modest Mouse, The Shins, and even the Arcade Fire when their early releases propelled them into a state of cult-like fanaticism. Like fellow Glasgow-based contemporaries Belle & Sebastian, Frightened Rabbits’ broad sense of ambition remains admirably prevalent, yet they allow enough room for such aforementioned classifications of indie-rock conventionalism too be classified more appropriately as independent futurists. Founding members Scott and Grant Hutchison probably meant for their craft to be delivered in such a familiarly comforting form as well, as the brothers have shown a noteworthy amount of potential since they formed the group in 2004. With Scott as a guitarist and Grant as a percussionist, the two originally began writing songs and preforming them for family members. Upon the urging of friends and family, they eventually decided to pursue the project full-time. Guitarist Billy Kennedy joined the group in 2006, with bassist Andy Monaghan making his debut with the band earlier this year.

When Frightened Rabbits started work on their second album, The Midnight Organ Fight, the four members found themselves in a position that was quite unfamiliar to them. For the first time in their musical careers, they had others apart from their families and friends in Glasgow who recognized their talent. Because of their critically acclaimed debut, Sing the Greys, in 2006, Universal decided to pick up the album and re-release it in the U.S. and U.K. last year. Now, after playing at a variety of American shows and festivals like SXSW in a coinciding effort with their re-release, they have amassed an overseas audience that is very respectable for a band with merely one album. On an artistic standpoint, The Midnight Organ Fight also proves to be the first opportunity for the group to rework any of the minor flaws that dragged Sing the Greys down. Considering that it got in the hands of many people, they likely had plenty of critiques to work off of. Well, whichever method they chose to use, The Midnight Organ Fight is a significant step-up from their impressive debut. Produced by Peter Katis (he was behind the first two Interpol albums and the two most recent albums from The National), it represents an improvement upon both aspects of production and the songwriting.

The four members of Frightened Rabbit also consider The Midnight Organ Fight to be the most personal piece of art they have released. “This album [The Midnight Organ Fight] is a lot more intense than the first one. There’s a lot more blunt imagery,” Scott Hutchison said, alluding to the somber feelings of suicide, depression, and regret that lingers throughout the album. Still though, Scott considers optimism to be a proud component of his band’s lyrical output. “I always feel that no matter how morose the subject matter, there’s always a way that we – as a group – find of putting a positive slant on it, whether it be a depressing lyric put to a really pleasant melody or just a positive spin in the end. I hope people don’t feel depressed when they listen to our music.” With the abundance of hooks, fleeting melodies, and underlying instrumental additives, I doubt Scott has any reason to worry about listeners feeling down. Take the opening “The Modern Leper” for instance, an infectious tune whose success owes a significant amount to Hutchison’s distinctive Scottish accent. In stark contrast to Glasgow-based bands like Belle & Sebastian or The Jesus and Mary Chain, their accent is enjoyably evident and adds a uniquely enjoyable flavor to the result. Despite the lyrics foretelling the impact that ignorance has on societal limitations, melodic elements like Hutchison’s genuine yelp during the song’s bursting chorus can’t help but remind listeners that hope always has a chance of prevailing in the end. And on Frightened Rabbits’ gratifying Midnight Organ Fight, the sense of hope has turned simply into an element of great expectancy; instead of treading in unfamiliar waters, Frightened Rabbits’ newest effort commendably shows them as a band comfortable with their own stylistic delivery.

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Frightened Rabbit – The Modern Leper

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Frightened Rabbit – Fast Blood

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Frightened Rabbit – Head Rolls Off

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Some people are simply artists at heart. Whether it be through sculpture, painting, film, or music, they pursue the most personally attainable form of self-expression regardless of their environmental or social circumstances. In fact, harsher conditions have often played a pivotal role in the production of classically influential art. The overwhelming degree of emotional variability can create spectacles of self-expression that are marveled at for hundreds of years, providing a glimmer of hope for anyone with even a hint of ambition. For Fredo Viola, it is heavily apparent that the London-born songwriter would have had found a way to release art regardless of his preferred method of output or variability of location. Until he finally decided to settle in NYC with a specialization in songwriting, Viola was in a stage of constant transition. The transitional tendencies were found in regard to both his location and method of art; he lived in places as varied as London, Rome, Los Angeles, and New York throughout his life, dabbling in financially unreliable but artistically fulfilling occupations like a boy soprano vocalist, a film director, and an animation designer. Even though a past history may create cause for biographical indecisiveness, Viola classifies himself concisely as an American singer/songwriter and multi-media artist.

Film and music often overlap gracefully, as they both require similar requirements for the most fulfilling experience for the viewer or listener. Though one relies on visual perception and the other relies on audible perception, the intended themes and emotional expressions are often delivered in a similar manner. Whether a soundtrack is supplementing a film or a music video is supplementing a song, the two can be enjoyed simultaneously while still maintaining their individuality. That being said, it should not come as a shock that Viola was convinced to become a songwriter while studying to be a film director. As a student at NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts, he first discovered the works of classical composers like Béla Bartók, Dmitri Shostakovich, and Igor Stravinsky. Considering that the composition of sound and the involvement of a soundtrack plays a pivotal role in the study of film, Viola’s dedication to his originally intended study eventually led him to his true calling as a singer/songwriter. As he would be the first to tell you though, his musical influences are not limited to classical composers. During the same period at NYU, he became infatuated with independent artists like Belle & Sebastian, Amon Tobin, and Boards of Canada. In addition to being a fan of other genres as varied as gospel and trip-hop, he cites arguably his favorite rock artist as Harry Nilsson. Regardless of his past influences though, it is difficult to find one past artist who sounds anything quite like Fredo Viola’s musical output.

Viola’s first big break came in 2004 when Jonathan Demme’s remake of The Manchurian Candidate was released in theaters. His fantastic track, “The Sad Song”, was licensed for use in the film, finally giving Viola recognition both on the screen and through music. Likely the most recognizable placement for “The Sad Song” came last year when it appeared on The O.C. (though I can honestly say that I have never seen the show in my life). The well-deserved recognition of the song’s quality suddenly made Viola an admired name, as he found himself fielding calls from the likes of Roger Ebert, Massive Attack, Neil Gaiman, a few news outlets, and several film directors. They all offered promising career opportunities and Viola eventually decided to collaborate with Massive Attack, flying to Bristol and working on some material with the duo. Capitalizing on the success of “Sad Song”, he has decided to feature the track on its respective self-titled EP, released last year. His full-length debut, The Turn, will be released this spring. As evidenced on “Sad Song”, Viola’s stylistic tendencies are remarkably unique. His usage of experimental ’60s pop, minimalist electronica, and straight-cut psychedelia are all incorporated seamlessly. However, the aspect that separates him respectfully from most independent songwriters is undoubtedly his exquisite use of a capella, often turning his vocal melodies into a thing of stunning beauty.

Though it is nearly 4 years old, I believe that the inclusion of “The Sad Song” on The Turn was a great decision on Viola’s part. Its beauty remains a thing of unwavering talent and stylistic ambitiousness, with the most impressive aspect being the minimal usage of instrumentation. Using a capella vocal form, a subtle rhythm section, and an occasional sprinkling of keys, Viola capitalizes on both his vocal and melodic skills without using bloated instrumentation or overproduction. Like a foreign virtuosity, the lyrics are uninterpretable but the melody and sheer power of Viola’s vocals provide for a stunning listening experience that will have most listeners’ jaws close to the floor. With several layerings of his own vocals providing for the driving melody of the song, chill-inducing moments like the sudden entrance of keys prove extremely enjoyable. “The Turn” is another exceptional example of Viola’s a capella usage, with the radical transition from a talkative crowd to Viola’s smooth vocals in the opening moments being startlingly appropriate. It uses the same elements that attributed to the greatness of “The Sad Song”, yet it prefers infectiousness over beauty with its larger emphasis on pop. Keys relatedly emerge as a delicately important fixture and Viola’s vocals rise in intensity as the song progresses, crafting an engagingly different but similarly enjoyable experience. As for the rest of The Turn, the attempts are largely experimental.

Other worthwhile moments on The Turn include the electronically manipulative production of “Friendship Is” and the urgent piano-led beat of “The Original Man”, the latter being intentionally humorous in its usage of directorial terms and namedropping of George Clooney and Nicolas Cage. It mainly deals with the fear of modern technology, with Viola making remarks like “I have my doubts of the digital files,” and “I’ve never once dealt with HD compression,” with seemingly natural genuineness. It is an appropriate gesture for an artist who was previously an aspiring filmmaker. With his melodic talent though, it remains universally agreeable that his transition to a career as a songwriter was likely for the best. He can still dabble in film as well through music videos, as evidenced by his self-produced video of “The Sad Song”. With different variations of unparalleled beauty and downright infectiousness interweaving with a countless variety of genres (a capella, electronica, free jazz, pop, classical… you catch my drift), The Turn is easily one of the most uniquely enjoyable debuts of 2008 so far.

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Fredo Viola – The Sad Song

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Fredo Viola – The Turn

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Fredo Viola – The Original Man

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After a rewarding 2007, the new year has already embraced us with several artists who demonstrated great potential and ability on their recent releases. As for this past month, whether it has been through reputably innovative artists (Xiu, Destroyer) or brand new acts who have yet to even be signed (The Delfields, Run Dan Run), the optimism surrounding music in 2008 has been enjoyably exposed thus far.

01. School of Language – Disappointment ‘99 (post)
02. Dengue Fever – Woman in the Shoes (post)
03. Destroyer – Shooting Rockets (From the Desk of Night’s Ape) (post)
04. Winter’s Fall – Muddy & White (post)
05. The Helio Sequence – Can’t Say No (post)
06. Xiu Xiu – No Friend Oh! (post)
07. Little Beirut – Belle de Jour (post)
08. Neon Neon – Raquel (post)
09. Goodtimes Goodtimes – Desire (post)
10. The Delfields – A Slippery Slope (post)
11. The Feminists – The Beginning of the World (post)
12. The Sugar Oaks – Los Rebeldes (post)
13. Run Dan Run – Your Name Escapes Me (post)
14. The Steeldrivers – Blue Side of the Mountain (post)
15. Nick Jaina – Maryanne (post)

DOWNLOAD ENTIRE COMPILATION>>>
(70.7 MB, .RAR file)

The post Obscure Sound: Best of January 2008 appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

No one needs to be told that a compliment and an insult are antonyms of one another, yet it remains ironic that politicians are often the ones who create insults that eventually expand into unintentional compliments, occasionally being a coined phrase that those insulted individuals may actually take pride in. Due to a variety of reasons that are pointless to discuss in detail here, “Bush” has arguably become the most infamous last name in America over the past few years. Even so, any resident of Portland, Oregon in the early ’90s could tell you that the current president’s father, George Bush Sr., was not the most beloved individual either. When the elder H.W. decided to visit the most populous city in Oregon, he was greeted with a large array of protests and acts of resistance. Some even went as far as overly consuming red, white, and blue food coloring in an effort to regurgitate the colors near Bush’s entourage. Yeah, that was obviously taking things too far, but many of us can easily attest to adverse political campaigns having peculiar effects on people. Though he denies even saying it, Bush apparently went on to call Portland “Little Beirut” in response, referencing the struggling Middle-Eastern city where politically motivated revolts are the norm. Instead of taking the nickname to heart, the locals instead chose to relish Bush’s phrasing. After all, they had achieved their intentions of revealing to the most influential political figure in the country that they were clearly in opposition of his better interests.

For Portland natives Hamilton Sims and Edwin Paroissien, Bush’s comments were too hard to pass up. In 2004, nearly 14 years after the “Little Beirut” , the duo held similar intentions of forming a band. After adding bassist Jon Trause and drummer Alex Inman, there was one aspect of the band left to decide: the name. And yes, that is how Little Beirut were formed. Both Sims and Paroissien had a past history before the four-piece was formed, playing together in a band by the name of Silkenseed in the mid ’90s. The group’s sophomore effort, Hurry Home, earned glowing reviews from the likes of Billboard, though Sims left the band a year later to accomplish his academic pursuits back east at grad school. Silkenseed found it difficult to continue without Sims and disbanded a few months later. Paroissien and Sims remained friends though, and they quickly formed Little Beirut when Sims returned to Portland in 2004. Permanent Kiss, a release containing 11 studio demos, was released in 2005 as the band began to play gigs and promote their name. Now, after 4 years in the making, Little Beirut will finally release their proper full-length debut, High Dive, in April. Compared to the promising, though often amateurishly executed, tracks on Permanent Kiss, High Dive is a highly memorable debut with strong songwriting, glimmering production, and thoughtful lyrical content that places Little Beirut in a state of high likelihood for national acclaim.

Though Paroissien and Sims have over a decades worth of experience working together, the production process of High Dive saw the four-piece get some help from a few respected locals. “We wanted to bring in outside opinions to help us with objectiveness and to make the recording more collaborative,” Paroissien explained. “We wanted horns, strings, and keys. We were anxious to move beyond the standard two guitars, bass, and drums set-up we’d done before, and felt seeking help on this would allow us to realize exactly what we wanted to do.” Adam Seltzer (former engineer for M. Ward) and Dylan Magierek (owner of Badman Recording Co.) served as the engineers, while local singer-songwriter Chris Robley co-produced the album with the band. I previously featured Robley a few months ago; his second album, The Drunken Dance of Modern Man In Love, is well worth the listen. According to Sims, Robley “would trim the fat and re-work the arrangements to fit in orchestration, and help us really develop everything for the benefit of the song.” For finalization, the group brought High Dive to Jeff Stuart Saltzman for final mixing and engineering. To give an idea of his credentials, Saltzman had previously worked with the likes of Stephen Malkmus, Sleater-Kinney, and Death Cab For Cutie.

While their sound is rawer and more guitar-oriented compared to the likes of Death Cab For Cutie and Snow Patrol, Little Beirut encompasses enough potential to reach a similar status of popularity as such reputable acts. but, unlike aforementioned comparisons, the entire album is composed of solid material. High Dive is not an album where one or two catchy singles are supplemented by a variety of fillers in order to sell at the $15 mark. This is an album clearly crafted with precision, with its consistency being something of a rare entity in the realm of independent alternative-rock. The lyrical content is also as diverse as the instrumental display, with themes of love, politics, and the consequence of choice being evident. The stunning “Love During Wartime” manages to incorporate all three, being a constructive ode of sorts to the Secretary of State, Condoleezza Rice. “[It] is a jab at the war and the goings on of the Bush administration,” Sims admits. “But it’s also a jab at the fact that in order for Rice to become te most powerful woman in the history of U.S. politics, she had to be completely desexualized to make it okay. Hence why a love song to her seems so absurd.”

Whether you side with the band’s political beliefs or not is something that will depend on the individual, but there is no denying the sheer power and infectious nature of the song. “Oh my babe, life was easy before you came along,” Sims sings over a series of guitars and brass. “Come on baby, quit your dreaming. Time is not your fault.” When the song launches into a trumpet-led jam session during its final minutes, it should become highly apparent that one reason for the high level of enjoyment is that Little Beirut, even with their radio-friendly appeal, are not in it for the sheer glory. Their structural ambitiousness in a genre tampered by commercialism is cause for considerable praise alone. If I had to choose a track on the album that has the likeliest chance of reaching widespread recognition, I would place my bet on the exceptional “Belle de Jour”. Though the fluid implementation of guitars and futuristic remins conventional in each verse, the chorus is an absolute stunner. Unlike the pleasingly critical “Love During Wartime”, “Belle de Jour” is a more admirable ode to another famous woman: Academy Award-nominated French actress Catherine Deneuve. “I’m always running to my,” Sims soaringly croons while backing vocals echo Deneuve’s name in an angelic tone. “I’m front row center, she’s mine.” It remains rooted in a simplistic guitar progression, yet the group’s melodic capacity creates a spectacle that should make the song an absolute hit.

The rest of the album follows in similar form, with High Dive being a startlingly consistent alternative-rock release that relies on both accessibility and pure melodic infectiousness to create an experience that is hard to rival in contemporary alternative-rock. At this point, success appears imminent for the Portland-based four-piece. Once the radios get a hold of tracks like “Belle de Jour” and “Love During Wartime”, I don’t see much stopping them. And yes, they all can thank H.W. for the loving name idea.

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Little Beirut – Belle de Jour

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Little Beirut – Love During Wartime

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Little Beirut – Acid Wash Soul

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The post Little Beirut Thank the Presidency appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

Wyoming, the United States’ least populous state, has nearly twice the population of Iceland. Leave it to the art of music to give the best example of quality over quantity. No offense to the Cowboy State, but I honestly cannot think of one prominent songwriter who has had their roots tied to Wyoming. Though several artists (Jackson Pollock) and actors (that dude on Lost) hail from the state, music is certainly not its reputable expertise. As for Iceland, the fact that the small country has a slew of artists with universal recognition is respectable in its own right. One could make a strong argument that Iceland has the strongest music scene in the world for a country with under 1,000,000 people. With Icelandic legends like Björk, Sigur Rós, and Emilíana Torrini leading the way, it is hard to argue against such esteemed sentiments. With the Icelandic music scene being known outside its borders as a make-or-break affair with a thin line between local and international success, new artists tend to feel a substantial amount of pressure. Many wonder whether they will join the elite internationally recognizable ranks of Björk and Sigur Rós or spend their whole lives in Iceland as nothing more than a local favorite. While luck and promotion certainly play vital roles, the most important aspect of renowned success remains the quality of the music.

For those accustomed to the most commonly available Icelandic acts, Seabear should come as quite a surprise. It is not ten-minute post-rock ballads with sweeping strings and prolific falsettos, nor is it a swan dress-wearing bundle of talent singing her lungs out over an eclectic blend of musical styles. Instead, the seven-piece from Reykjavik are demonstrative of a style that western audiences should find enjoyably familiar. They sing a delicate mixture of indie-pop and folk, supplemented by a variety of sweeping strings, chirping backing vocals, and light keys, delivered in a sense of structural consistency that allows for memorability and willing repetition. Seabear’s stylistic preference can be easily classified as lo-fi indie-pop, though the expansive capabilities that the array of strings and melodic delivery generates makes their content in a league of its own. Recently signed to the Berlin-based Morr Music label, Seabear should find good company in bands like The Notwist and native contemporaries Múm. Morr has been known to dig into artists of all genres, whether it be experimental glitch-ambient or folky indie-pop; this makes them one of the more consistently diverse labels I have come across recently. Upon its formation in 2004, Seabear was actually intended to be the solo project of frontman Sindri Már Sigfússon. He later enlisted the aid of two more members in violinist Gudbjörg Hlin Gudmundsdóttir and guitar/lap steel player Örn Ingi. Shortly afterward, four additional members also joined, finalizing Seabear as a seven-piece.

Since success appears to be imminent for Seabear, I must warn you about the comparative process that critics will attempt to place upon the seven-piece. From Belle & Sebastian and Travis to Elliott Smith and Boy Least Likely To, many may find it convenient to group the latest Icelandic phenoms into the category of acoustically fixated songwriters of melancholic intentions and desperate pleas. Despite the enormous talents of Elliott Smith and Belle & Sebastian, Seabear’s approach is more inherently modernistic. Whether it be their use of strings, alternative acoustical variations, or occasional use of samples, comparisons to Seabear will always be somewhat rough due to their respectable ability to draw innovation when it matters most. Though their lyrical content is romantically charming and often heart-tugging, the focus remains on the subtly infectious melodic delivery and the exceptional production value that makes it appear so pleasurable. “I Swing I Swim” is uplifted by a ukulele-like acoustic guitar whose melody is echoed by a twinkle of keys at the end of each line. Like most songs on their exceptional debut, The Ghost That Carried Us Away, the reposeful vocal and instrumental approach is delightfully serene. “Arms” is also highly demonstrative of the band’s inclusive chops, showcasing an exceptional string arrangement over the simplistic strum of an acoustic guitar. The song is short and sweet, a catchy little treat that finds its strengths in both its acoustic rapidity and guileful incorporation of strings.

One of the most apparent aspects of The Ghost That Carried Us Away are the strikingly haunting vocals of Sindri Már Sigfússon; they are attenuated and intentionally hushed to avoid any forced inconsistencies or lyrical misinterpretations. Enjoyably enough, it blends perfectly with Seabear’s instrumental arsenal. Though their approach boasts a variety of guitars, strings, and percussion, t His approach makes perfect sense too, as Sigfússon wrote all 12 tracks on the album. He certainly used the help of his backing band though, as the effervescent quality of the excellent “Hospital Bed” reaps beneficially from the airy backing vocals, supplied gracefully by the female members of the band. The song touches on romantic regret, a common subject that Seabear handles with finesse and beauty. The string use within “Hospital Bed” is one of the best moments on the album too, even more enjoyable than the previously exceptional “Arms”. On a cumulative level, with its reflective incorporation of piano and harmonica, “Cat Piano” is my favorite song on the album. The melody glides seamlessly over Sigfússon’s relaxed vocals as he reflects on moments of bittersweet nostalgia. “Some nights, I swear, there was magic in the air,” he whispers gracefully, before a harmonica delivers the bridge toward the proceeding verse. The keys twinkle and the harmonicas are incorporated beautifully but, most importantly, the song does not stray from its original intention. It remains serene all throughout, being an enjoyable gem all the way through. Sometimes changes in tempo or melodic delivery are unnecessary. It is comforting to know that Sigfússon understands such situations. It is not surprising though, as his talent should eventually bring Seabear recognition significantly beyond the borders of his native Iceland.

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Seabear – Hospital Bed

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Seabear – Cat Piano

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Seabear – I Sing I Swim

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The post Seabear Gets Carried Away appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.