The wonderfully named Jethro Fox, originally born in Essex but now based in Liverpool, is creating a sound influenced by ‘60s pop, nostalgic both in terms of its content and product values.

Fox’s sound is unashamedly fused with bouncing beats and Beach Boys-esque guitar twanging. It’s a sound that was carved whilst working on his latest EP in Manchester, listening to the Rolling Stones, The Hollies, Roy Orbison and Gerry and the Pacemakers among others. He previously worked as the guitarist and co-writer in a number of bands (Street Light Youth, Journals, The Slowdown) and is currently occupying such a position in bands like Carnival Kids, Anna Lena & the Orchids and Evelyn Burke. He only first began pursuing his own solo venture this past spring. The outcome so far is very interesting, on par with recent ‘60s-tinged successes like Grizzly Bear, Cass McCombs, and Dr. Dog.

The recently released Blinding Light EP was mastered by Robin Schmidt and Jethro has already released two tracks from the excellent release, “I Never Knew Her Name” and “Blinding Light”. The latter is also accompanied by a video of Fox performing in front of multiple projected vintage videos, a simple formula that compliments his style perfectly. All of the tracks on the EP were put to tape before being mastered to help to replicate a more traditional analogue sound. This is coupled with tape echoes and spring reverbs added during the recording process.

Fox is continuing to tour with other bands which he’s involved with but is planning several gigs for October and November currently with more releases expected then.

RIYL: Cass McCombs, The Beach Boys, Grizzly Bear, Delta Spirit, Fuirt Bats, The Morning Benders, Surfer Blood, Dawes, Bill Callahan, Kurt Vile, Julian Lynch, Papercuts, Destroyer

Jethro Fox – Blinding Light

Jethro Fox – Never Knew Her Name

Anna Lena and the Orchids – Child (Remix by Jethro Fox)

Jethro Fox – Chasing Shadows

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The post Jethro Fox appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

by Mike Mineo

If I were to play Dirty Beaches’ debut full-length, Badlands, loudly in my apartment, my neighbors would likely suspect one of two things. Either I pulled out an old-fashioned phonograph and started playing tattered vinyls of early-era rockabilly, or I was blasting a documentary focused around novels like On the Road and Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas; the narrative allure of the open road left a distinctive mark on American culture and works like these are best representative of that, along with their supplementary soundtracks of course. Dirty Beaches, the one-man project of Alex Zhang Hungtai, captures a feel and essence that literary classics like these established, and that later films like Albert Brooks’ Lost in America and David Lynch’s Wild at Heart enforced with lovable nostalgic sentimentality. In Wild at Heart, Nic Cage’s character (Sailor) was essentially half-Elvis impersonator and half-hipster, making the bizarre sights and sounds that much more entertaining. With Badlands, I tend to envision a character like Sailor or Sal Paradise singing over what Hungtai calls “minimalist rockabilly”, all while picturing visions of rural landscapes speeding past me as I traverse along an unknown highway where both American stereotypes and counter-stereotypes merge for a distinctive trip into both the familiar and unknown.

The reason I picture a film character in place of Hungtai is actually a complement to Dirty Beaches’ distinctive display of stylistic nostalgia and the contemporary lo-fi movement. Badlands finds many comparisons to Springsteen’s cult-favorite album Nebraska, where he would alternate sparsely haunting folk music with glimpses of rockabilly aided by the occasional Elvis-like yelp. If the album title was extracted from the Springsteen song of the same name I wouldn’t be surprised. The outstanding narrative power of that Nebraska is undeniable, and Dirty Beaches follow a similar path in a concise 27-minute release built on nostalgia, imagery, but most importantly great songwriting that finds perfect accommodation in its unconventional lo-fi production. Polish is not a main priority or even one at all. Depth, feeling, and emotions that quiver with a ghostly whimper are the main components at play in Badlands. Mix in a dose of proto-punk cultists Suicide, with their stripped-down infectiousness, and you have the wonderfully eclectic hybrid that is Badlands.

Hungtai was born in Taiwan, but since then has moved around. Toronto, Montreal, and Honolulu are a few places he called home, and one could surmise from his music that he has ventured on trips beyond these. These characteristics are telling when you compare your music to “the sound of waves against a picturesque and putrid shore, the silent rumble of a Chevy as it speeds by in slow motion.” Usually descriptions like this are superfluous nonsense, but this one actually works pretty well. One of my favorites from Dirty Beaches, “A Hundred Highways”, illustrates this “silent rumble” pretty well; multiple guitars crunch in unison with both low frequencies that resemble bass and high frequencies that approach synth-like qualities. This is lo-fi production at its best, with Hungtai stretching his guitar’s range out to include characteristics of both rhythm and key-laden melodies. There are no keys, of course, but the manipulation of sound here is more convincing than ever. Like early Suicide or Ariel Pink material, Dirty Beaches make pretty majestic works out of a limited instrumental arsenal.

The mixture of screeching ambiance and thumping guitar frequencies throughout “A Hundred Highways” actually serves it as one of the more maximized tracks on the album. Alternately, “Horses” is barebones rockabilly minimalism at its best, with Hungtai alternating between Elvis/Tim Buckley croons as he practically mimics the sound of an old car’s engine trying desperately to start. “Sweet 17” is more affixed to the aforementioned Nebraska comparisons, with yelps and moans that make Hungtai sound like a rougher and tougher version of Conway Twitty. It is far from the haunting folk of Springsteen’s Nebraska, but it concocts a similar atmosphere with its driving rhythm guitar pulsating over padded hi-hats. The second half of Badlands is more in line with that subdued folk feel, especially the elegant “Lord Knows Best”. A gentle guitar progression jumps around quickly over a choir accompaniment, with Hungtai showing his romantic side with lines like “I’ve walked through the valleys and lord knows best that I don’t give a damn about anyone but you.”

Second-half highlights like “Lord Knows Best” and the fluttering “True Blue”, which sounds like a cross between early Brian Wilson and sentimental Lou Reed, help maintain the album’s consistency and unique stylistic fervor. The ominous instrumental “Black Nylon” and wastefully ambient “Hotel” are both tedious ways to close off a very impressive album, but the six preceding tracks are all very worthwhile. Hungtai has produced something very special with Badlands, which mixes nostalgic aspects of both culture and musical genres into songs that are hauntingly infectious (“True Blue” and “A Hundred Highways”) and atmospherically overwhelming (“Lord Knows Best” and “Sweet 17”) to the point of a film by David Lynch, Wong Kar-wai, or a novel by Kerouac or Capote. The only two gripes I have regarding Badlands are the last two songs and the length. I want more than 27 minutes. After grasping Badlands’ unique appeal (which only takes a few listens), I bet you will want more too.

RIYL: Bruce Springsteen, Elvis Presley, Suicide, Tim Buckley, Bo Didley, Conway Twitty, The Beach Boys, Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti, Jeans Wilder, Minks, Ducktails, Wavves, Reading Rainbow, Keep Shelly in Athens, Weed Diamond, Julian Lynch, No Joy

Dirty Beaches – True Blue

Dirty Beaches – Lord Knows Best

Dirty Beaches – Sweet 17

Dirty Beaches – Horses

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In my first feature of Grimes, I made the point that the music of Claire Boucher resembled conceptual art. With gauzy layers of synth that embed themselves into post-punk rhythms reminiscent of Joy Division’s “She’s Lost Control”, theatrical art-pop hooks that resembles the likes of The Knife and Björk, and subtle sampling to the effect of Kraftwerk and Burial, her music does not confine itself to one influence or genre. Instead, one experiences a meshing of several different components that combine for a sound that – while occasionally bizarre or puzzling – is thoroughly fascinating in its delivery. Boucher’s engrossing tendencies does not stop at the appearance of her style though, as her pop tendencies are present in each song. Unlike the absurdly pretentious conceptual art that offers an interesting delivery but no substance, Grimes plays like an infectiously majestic series of stylistic concoctions. Boucher makes her music align with her artwork and photos, which feature abstract shapes (usually of body parts) and a wide array of colors that give off the initial appearance of spontaneous disarray, only to reward the attentive viewer with beautifully cohesive formations that take effort to spot – but not too much to the point of becoming frustrating. Like her artwork, Grimes’ music has plenty of unconventional surprises.

Boucher’s additional talents in the visual arts were shown off wonderfully on her debut Geidi Primes, which featured songs that were as apt for artistic cinema as they were for caliginous electronica venues. I noted that a track like “Sardaukar Levenbrech” would be a great choice for inclusion in the next film by Hirokazu Koreeda, who is able to combine traditional Asian music and contemporary electronica to riveting images of resignation, loss, and isolation. Then there were efforts like “avi” that followed more catchy dance, with its reverbed percussion, pulsating bass, and gleaming of strings creating a dark but soothing atmosphere among Boucher’s flexible vocals. Her voice alternates between a subdued murmur of sorts and high-pitched flashes of enthusiasm, showing no hesitance to hold a shrill note if it sounds appropriate over gushing synth pads and austere percussion. We are merely a few months after the release of Geidi Primes, and apparently Boucher is discontent in having just one album to compete for a spot in the Top 50 of the year. Her new album, Halfaxa, was released in typical under-the-radar fashion, and it stands just as strong as its predecessor released earlier this year. To my delight, Boucher has not alternated her sound much, which she describes primarily as “goth-pop”, but with a heavy influence from “Medieval organum, R&B and hip-hop.”

Halfaxa represents, in several ways, the beginning of a transformation period for Boucher. All the songs on Halfaxa are recorded like on Geidi Primes, in DIY fashion directly through the microphone on Boucher’s computer. Change is on the horizon though, at least in regard to studio methods. It would be difficult to spot this based on the quality of her material, but quality songwriting and production always shine regardless of the medium. Ironically, directly after she wrapped up Halfaxa, Boucher realized how to record things through an interface. As a result, “Crystal Ball” – which was recorded using his new interface – did not make it to the album, but Boucher said this likely represents her “new phase”, which she looks forward due to the elimination of MIDI and the prospect of recording her synth straight into the computer. The result is not nearly as dark as her previous material, but with an optimistic glimmer that translates into a more upbeat and overall infectious effort. The percussion pattern follows post-punk as usual, with the click-clacking of minimalist percussion resembling the ominous shuffle of Joy Division. Boucher’s voice is crisper and more expansive than usual though, the variation between her high-pitched and lower vocals combining for some clever hooks. Her methodologies remain the same as various vocal melodies overlap for a sensational melodic turn-out, but “Crystal Ball” suggests we should expect a more accessible output from Boucher in the future. Regardless of whether or not “Crystal Ball” is on the album, I feel it is great enough to catch on like fire regardless. Expect to see this one posted on a bunch of blogs by the end of the year.

Moving on to cuts that actually made the album, “sagrad …” . Boucher’s ooh-ing complements a harp-like progression guided by a single snare, with the ooh-ing eventually serving as an additional synth pad as her lyrical verses emerge. The harp/mandolin-like qualities are eventually phased out in favor of an effervescent synth pad that begins to recall fastidious dance-pop in addition to the initially prevalent dubstep, a style that is present more often than not in the percussive additives alone. The structural route this song takes is extremely spontaneous, perhaps a bit too much for some, but the beauty of the track speaks volumes. The bursting effort “Dream Fortress” may appeal to those who like their structures a bit more accessible, as Boucher expands a string-drenched intro into a bouncy hustle of delicate synth whole notes. Her vocal melody here initially resembles the fantastic “avi”, but that is before the track incorporates additional string elements that border on the avant-garde. The squealing samples contrast with the strings around the two-minute mark quite remarkably though, and especially when the percussion kicks back in there is little to doubt as far as the track’s innovative appeal goes. The conclusion greets the listener with the same delicate chord progression from the beginning, albeit this time with a clanging yet fitting arpeggio that allows the song to end with its feet still on the ground.

Many of Boucher’s songs are so spontaneous and visually stimulating that length is not an obstacle. In fact, there are several five-minute tracks on here that I wished would go on longer. Tracks like “world ? princess” and “sagrad …” contain a multitude of memorable moments that bear repeating before a transition comes on too abruptly. What follows is always entertaining, but there are some greater ideas than others and it is evident that Boucher is still learning to identify these and capitalize upon them. “Weregild” does not suffer from this at all though, standing as one of the better efforts on Halfaxa in regard to mood, tempo, and general infectiousness. Like “Crystal Ball”, this should spread rapidly among fans of moody electronic music. This one specifically recalls Depeche Mode, a band that Boucher is not hesitant to express her respect for (check her shirt in the second press shot). Of course, Boucher’s voice is extraordinarily unique here as usual, and her exploitation of the various pitches she is able to emit is awe-inspiring. Check out the retrospective push of billowing synth sequences around the 02:30 mark and try not to be swept away. Most songs on Halifaxa are just as inspiring, and Boucher is the only artist I am aware of in 2010 who has released two full-lengths worthy of year-end mentions.

RIYL: The Knife, Björk, Depeche Mode, Joy Division, Kraftwerk, Marissa Nadler, Forest Swords, How to Dress Well, Prince, Black Dice, Hildegaard von Bingen, Cocteau Twins, Twin Shadow, Julian Lynch, Wild Nothing, James Blake, Autre Ne Veut, CEO, Avey Tare, Glasser, Gold Panda, Small Black, Blackbird Blackbird

Grimes – Crystal Ball

Grimes – Weregild (mirror)

Grimes – Dream Fortress

Arbutus Records

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The post Grimes’ Halfaxa appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

Forest Family Records, created by the brains behind Gorilla vs Bear and Weekly Tape Deck, tends to show a penchant for timely pop music. Their previous 7″, Go Outside by Cults, had most critics gushing over its exuberant blend of twee-pop and chilled-out electronica. Their most recent offering, Gauntlet Hair, associates that same vein of hazy electronica in their material, albeit with a more anthemic and boisterous approach. Their emphasis is also on post-rock and art-rock instead of twee-pop. These two bands sound nothing like one another, but they share the characteristic of stylistic relevance. Gauntlet Hair take the hypnotic sample-driven pop of a Neon Indian or Washed Out and substitutes many of their samples and synths for fluttering vocal accompaniments and blistering guitars, with Gauntlet Hair’s adventurous songwriting sitting in a perfect place between experimentation and accessibility. This is where most of the Animal Collective comparisons are coming from, despite their techniques and actual styles differing. As they are an adventurous example of retaining innovation while attempting to write catchy songs, they are bound to get mentioned in a review of Gauntlet Hair. The label seems to pursue artists like these, and Gauntlet Hair may be their best pick-up yet.

At the very least in regard to production, Forest Family Records seems to be quite fond of artists that fit within the “chillwave” label, which also means they probably have to sort through lots of terrible stabs at the style courtesy of Apple GarageBand. Most self-respecting labels tend to stay away from automated material like that though, and in this label’s case the more organic workings of Cults and especially Gauntlet Hair show this. Gauntlet Hair were complete unknowns before “I Was Thinking…” started taking blogs by storm in April. Essentially dripping in lucid atmosphere and eruptive hooks, its evolution from gently strummed guitar chords into a series of tremolo-based alterations finds many variations along the way. There is repetition present throughout, but the accomplishments on “I Was Thinking…” are more of an intricately evolutionary nature. With muted guitars on the left side of your speaker and a full-blown tonal burst of electric energy on the other, the contrast between restrained subtlety and anthemic chaos creates for some very exciting moments on this Colorado-based duo’s debut. This song should be your first reason for checking Gauntlet Hair out.

The vocals on its follow-up “Our Scenery” are frequently compressed behind a blur of guitars and click-clacking percussion, but the shouts of “hey!” at the beginning of each main verse and the duet-of-sorts occurring in the middle before the eerie guitar interlude shows just how subtly evolving the songs are. They remain steady under a repeating beat or melody that is enhanced just before it is about to wear thin. Gauntlet Hair’s two songwriters (Andy R. and Craig Nice) seem to have something up their sleeves ever other verse or chorus. It does not matter whether this realization occurs during the final minute of “I Was Thinking…” in its escalating backing harmonics, or during the most breathtaking moment of “Our Scenery”. This occurs right before the 3-minute mark, sparing little room for excess as they beautifully come down from left-over distortion and unbridled energy with swiftness and clarity. It is an oasis in a desert of wavering unpredictability, its caressing tone holding little in terms of intricacy but contributing significantly to the track’s ebb and flow.

I am really looking forward to Gauntlet Hair’s debut full-length, which they are currently working on, because they appear to be one of the few that recognize both the goods and evils of repetition. Unpredictability can be a great thing in music, and Gauntlet Hair keep their listeners on edge for just the right amount of time. When over-ambition begins to restrain a band and it becomes unpredictable to the point where cohesiveness and memorability are absent, there is nowhere left to go. I doubt Gauntlet Hair will face this dilemma anytime soon, since these songs show a young band with an extremely firm grasp of their listeners’ desires, which is to have their ass kicked by great music that flows with grace but packs the unpredictable punch of avant-garde’s best. This duo have walked this fine line quite impressively early in the early goings, earning the rapidly growing spotlight that has shone on them this past month.

RIYL: Best Coast, Memoryhouse, Beach Fossils, Small Black, Male Bonding, Washed Out, Neon Indian, Explosions in the Sky, Brian Eno, Dum Dum Girls, Real Estate, Julian Lynch, Sleigh Bells, Titus Andronicus

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Gauntlet Hair – I Was Thinking…

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Gauntlet Hair – Our Scenery

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Cults – Go Outside

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Forest Family Records

MySpace

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