by Mike Mineo

Although they have only begun to break out the past two years, I already have fond memories of The Morning Benders. When I posted about them back in April 2006, it was only a month after the site formed and I was eager to cover something fresh and worthwhile. At the time, this site had little direction and my focus was sporadic, so anything to attain readers was desired. One thing was clear though, and that was the undeniable potential of The Morning Benders. Their debut EP, Loose Change, is definitely one of the earliest memories I have of sharing great, new music to more than a room full of close friends. There was nothing to dislike about the young quartet from Berkeley, California living up to their flexible namesake in their surf-inspired pop and rock songs. ’60s pop collided with an early Strokes sound to make their emergence in 2006 timely, though it was not nearly enough material (in quantitative standards) to get excited over. They teased audiences some more with two EPs before their debut album, Talking Through Tin Cans, was released in 2008. The tracks were as stellar as the EPs, but it felt more like two or three EPs glued together rather than a full album. With their follow-up Big Echo, they have done a remarkable job of creating a satisfying full-length that marvels with cohesive songs and production.

Like any band whose first five years are pinnacled by a string of EPs, The Morning Benders prepared Big Echo with plenty of expectations surrounding them. Previous releases found them producing a very amiable style of lo-fi pop, the hooks appearing prominently despite a lack of resources. As five years have past, The Morning Benders have been searching for a sound that caters to their natural indie-pop sentiments without limiting themselves to a DIY schtick. On Big Echo, one finds a band comfortable for the first time. Sure, the majestic use of strings and vocal accompaniments help and are new for the group, but what shines most brightly is the presentation. The production is exceptionally suitable, sounding like sparkling indie-pop performed in a concert hall. This growth can be attributed to producer Chris Taylor, who is already quite established at the age of 28 with Grizzly Bear, Dirty Projectors, and TV on the Radio to his name. The Grizzly Bear multi-instrumentalist and Chris Chu recorded the album together in San Francisco. Chu’s songwriting flourishes with this clean presentation, particularly on gems like “Promises”. This effort in particular is the best thing I have ever heard from The Morning Benders, not to mention 2010 in general. There is still that anthemic, Strokes-like indie-rock vibe going on in the chorus, but the structural variation elsewhere is more reminiscent of Weezer’s Rivers Cuomo when he actually gave a shit (1994-2001).

Weezer and Neutral Milk Hotel are certainly obvious influences, but unlike The Morning Benders’ previous releases there is no feeling of replication on Big Echo. They have a nice arsenal of instrumentation that makes for some great moments, once again courtesy of new production advantages. The high-pitched marimba feel on “Cold War (Nice Clean Fight)” that slowly evolves into a addictive, folk-based sing-along is indicative of this, as is the subdued wave of organs on “Pleasure Sighs”. The vocals here sit somewhere between Neil Young and Wayne Coyne, adjusted accordingly since the subsequent “Hand Me Downs” is more akin to The Walkmen’s Hamilton Leithauser and the respective group’s excellently unpredictable rhythm section. The Walkmen find themselves to be an apt comparison as well, mainly because they are expanding upon the boundaries of traditional indie-rock led by guitars and keys without borrowing too heavily from the past. The guitars on “Pleasure Sighs” resound with heavy doses of reverb and intricate progressions, which under the slight touch of organs creates for a serene feel that fits perfectly in the middle of Big Echo. Away from the guitar-driven pop that marked most of their early releases, the ambition shown here alone marks The Morning Benders’ revelation here.

The first half of Big Echo, particularly the succession from “Promises” to “Pleasure Sighs”, is breathtaking. The last four tracks are more spotty in their consistency, but still have their shining moments. “All Day Day Light” is not amusing enough with its acoustic arpeggios and steady drumbeat to make it memorable, and the vocals sound like too much of a stretch in their twangy delivery. This song in particular is one of the only instances of a lazy chorus though, for most tracks introduce a plethora of variations that unexpectedly sneak into your head. “Promises” is probably the best example of this, though the epic demeanor of “Pleasure Sighs” and the beautiful, post-rock frailty of “Stitches” come close. The heavy-charged and vivid emotions of the latter remind me strongly once again of The Walkmen, a band for which comparisons are rare. A minor miscue like “All Day Day Light” and the somewhat extraneous “Sleeping In” aside, Big Echo is a tremendous step forward for a band whose potential has finally caught up to them. Rough Trade Records really struck gold with this one. Thanks to the imminent success of Big Echo, The Morning Benders are bound to be one of the most popular indie-rock acts of 2010.

8.5/10.0

RIYL: The Walkmen, Neutral Milk Hotel, Ra Ra Riot, Dr. Dog, Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin, The Broken West, Bishop Allen, Voxtrot, Grizzly Bear, Sunset Rubdown, Neil Young, The Flaming Lips,

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The Morning Benders – Promises

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The Morning Benders – Pleasure Sighs

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The Morning Benders – Stitches

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It seems ironic how the age of “hippies” coincided with some of the most groundbreaking usages of production in music. In an era associated with peace, love, and psychedelics, the aspects of intricacy and innovation are often overlooked since associating love-children and technical achievements appears to contradict itself based on stereotypes alone. Documentaries primarily highlight the negative enforcement of hippies, most footage portraying them as sitting lazily alongside the sidewalks of San Francisco as they exhaled a variety of entertainment. These were real examples, but they were a far cry from the artists that appealed to the hippie movement but refused to confine themselves to a niche so detrimental to their image. Image was something not valued nearly as much as it is today though, and many of these artists looked only at their music as a representation of their worth. It may sound obnoxiously linear to omit sociological standards for the sake of art, but it is certainly defensible when it results in several stylistic and technological innovations that went on to influence subsequent decades of music. For all the political strain that they caused, that hippies are associated more commonly with great music and feel-good endeavors than government interference is indicative of their importance in latter art. After all, regardless of whether it is in a positive or negative light, a historical group is unlikely to ever make such a simultaneous impact on artistic and political systems again.

When I wrote about Ezra Feinberg’s inclusion in another project, Piano Magic, I was struck by the group’s stylized fusion of post-rock and electronic pop. They had released nearly a dozen full-lengths at the time, and they maintained an impressive composure that saw a slight stylistic tweak on each album envelop into a stylistic breakthrough that took place over the course of a decade. Feinberg only collaborated with Piano Magic shortly, but it provided him with visible experience that shows on Citay’s third album, Dream Get Together. The type of gradual stylistic evolution that occurred for Piano Magic is very similar to the development of Citay, a project that shows no reluctance to indulge in the “studio excess” that frontman Feinberg found only natural to incorporate. It would be easy to sort Citay under the “hippie revival” status that so many contemporary folk artists seem familiar with, but prior knowledge of Feinberg’s past work will result in the comprehension of Dream Get Together as a progressive and relevant achievement, rather than one restrained by entities of the past. Considering that their second album, Little Kingdom, was a guitar-based album that saw layers upon layers of it being strained over psychedelic synth-tinged ambiance, the steps forward on Dream Get Together culminate in a desire for stylistic multifariousness and DIY nostalgia. Here, Feinberg shows a phenomenally improved vision by keeping these desires evident.

Plenty of San Francisco-based bands wear the likes of Led Zeppelin, ELO, or any ’70s rock staple on their sleeves, and this often results in more imitation than preferred. Dream Get Together is remarkably unique effort in that regard, as it manages to take certain concepts from nostalgic favorites without making the relevance discoverable. The songs sound sparkling new as a result, much in the same way great ELO tracks are enjoyable in their own right despite touting a blatant Beatles fetish. Feinberg usually helms this expanding sound of psychedelia, southern-rock, and prog-rock with his own acoustical scope, his guitar being backed by louder and more raucous ones that create cohesion rather than disarray. It is one of the many ironic achievements on Dream Get Together that makes Citay’s third album their most memorable yet. Although they sound less bound to atmosphere, Feinberg and company have constructed an excellent pop record that re . The “studio excess” does not pertain to electronic experimentation or sampled loops, but rather a re-interpretation of an older sound ignited by a similar arsenal of instruments that is enhanced by modernistic ideologies and tools. It also helps that Dream Get Together is a more lighthearted affair, its cover depicting an air balloon traveling over a balmy sea. The mood is more serene and confident, with a song like the self-titled cut bringing back joyous ’70s southern-rock in the vein of the Allman Brothers with shimmering guitars and radiant backing harmonies.

“Two hands out the window, two hands shifting gears,” Feinberg sings. “Next thing you know, we’re gonna be reelin’ in the years.” The album’s title indicates a consistent theme. “Dream get together on a warm sunny night,” he says throughout the self-titled cut, successfully capturing that night-in-paradise feel that artists like Bruce Springsteen have made popular. This feeling of utopia is also echoed by influences like Electric Light Orchestra, whose classic and conceptual Eldorado revolved around Wizard of Oz-like fantasy world. Jeff Lynne helmed that album with some amazing production, and Citay’s Dream Get Together sees brilliance in that department as well with Tim Green. His production shows in the coherence of gems like this and “Mirror Kisses”, which beautifully plays with soft acoustic strums and male-female duets. Its tone is reminiscent of a Celtic lullaby, similar to the forays that Led Zeppelin took. The partnership of Feinberg’s excellent and maturing songwriting and Green’s suitably harmonious production provides for a great album. Dream Get Together is certainly one of those releases that gets a band significant notice, not only for its accessibility but also its intricate vision and scope. This one already plays like a easy-listening classic.

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Citay – Dream Get Together

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Citay – Mirror Kisses

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Citay – Tugboat

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The integration of humor and satire into music can be an incredibly complex process. By coming across as humorous or self-depreciatingly witty, an artist tends to imply a sort of nonchalant demeanor that can either benefit their music or prove to be the chief detriment that drags them down. Emotional depth can be presented in any form of art, but the stylistic diversity present within music causes the attempt to integrate humor to be more intricate and complex than usual. Musical humorists often look toward the direction of Frank Zappa for a proper influence, as he remains one of the few songwriters in history that was able to blend idiosyncratic humor and satire with a never-ending assortment of musical genres. Zappa was truly a musical chameleon who was able to reconfigure popular stylistic trends to make them compatible for his unique humor, whether it was scornful, satirical, or politically motivated. Nowadays, artists seem fearful of individualistic humor, dreading that it could be a detriment to their commercialized perception. Sure, we have groups like Flight of the Conchords, Tenacious D, and The Lonely Island cooking up some pretty hilarious stuff that also maintains musical relevancy, but the style of humor often seems so contrived and inseparable from one another. Zappa was a singular force in his heyday and he continues to be in his posthumous state, serving as an influence to those that have skill in both comedic and musical performance.

Apart from being arguably the most prolific songwriter of the past century, Zappa’s enduring legacy is indebted to a style of humor that remains interpretable, enthralling, and anything but generic. I enjoy a handful of comedy-pop groups like Flight of the Conchords, but their style of comedy seems more randomly selected than metaphorically interpretive. Despite their evident talents and deserving recognition, the success of a group like Flight of the Conchords appears to be more based in stylistic mockery and over-the-top deliveries. As a result, finding a band that maintains a generally consistent style with effective humorous additives is rare these days; modern technology makes it so easy to mock a style like electro-pop or glam-rock and throw a clichéd music video together. The reason for this, as stated before, all comes down to commercialized perception. Creating quality music is obvious to the success of this genre and all others, but treading waters within this tricky realm of comedy-music requires simultaneous lyrical wit, justified instrumentation, and a delivery that is unique enough to trigger laughter but not desperate enough to be deemed over-the-top. Despite a few rough edges, Dubious Ranger hearken back to the days of Zappa when interpretable comedy in music was not incorporated to make up for a lack of musical or lyrical ability, but rather as an indicator of the artist’s own personality.

Just by reading their self-imposed description, Dubious Ranger’s comedic side can be seen. They are – and I quote – “the sound of befuddled hipsters becoming Bowie-eyed party-commandos and dancing themselves to sleep while dreaming of a more perfect union between high-art, classical-virtuoso pretension and take-your-pants-off rock and/or roll.” Quite a mouthful I know, but the best thing about this wacky description is how surprisingly accurate it turned out to be. Lead vocalist and pianist Alexander Eccles had been labeled as a piano prodigy since his childhood, with his influences comprising mostly of classical and avant-garde composers. Although his leanings shifted a bit when his brother and bandmate, Jonathan, introduced him to David Bowie, one can still get a sense of Eccles’ classical influence in the band’s unpredictable song structures and the cohesive mannerisms between the vocals’ mood and backing instrumentation. There’s the “classical-virtuoso pretension” for you, with rock ‘n’ roll being infused by Bowie’s underlying influence and Eccles’ fascinating personality. Jonathan classifies his brother as “bonkers” but explains that he is one of the few honest songwriters out there. “In his mind, love really is a rendezvous with a waitress on a cargo ship full of ghosts,” he said, providing a preview of Eccles’ odd but immensely entertaining lyrical output. “You can say you’re confused, but don’t for a damn second accuse him of not being sincere.”

Confusion among listeners is imminent on Dubious Ranger’s third album, Uneasy Truce at the Watering Hole, but so is enjoyment. The San Francisco-based quartet shows their fascination with dance-punk, indie-pop, and glam-rock simultaneously, resulting in a style that is very odd but also aptly fulfilling. The uniqueness of their style is only appropriate when their satirical delivery is involved, as Eccles’ vocals tend to alternate pitches and lyrical focus on a whim over a flurry of his own intricate piano progressions and his brother’s swanky guitar riffs. The music video for “Weapon” features an assortment of backdrops from San Francisco to Hong Kong, and one can get a sense in the track itself of the musical dexterity involved. Brimming with enthusiasm and key-led hooks, “Weapon” is one of the group’s more accessible efforts but succeeds on several fronts with slick guitar use, frenzied vocals, and clever sampling. It would be easy to identify this one as power-pop, but the presentation is too lofty to be restricted by pop ideologies. “French Song” distinctively recalls Television, both in Eccles’ spot-on resemblance to Tom Verlaine and his brother’s impressively luminous guitar use.

The humorously metaphorical outlook on love in “Ghost Ship” masterfully juggles humor with romantic sentiments, accompanied by hazy organs and a great accompaniment (the latter is an aspect present on nearly every track; Jonathan Eccles really knows how to play). The ‘60s pop of “Idiot” and the haunting cabaret of “Frozen Places” show even more diversity on the album, especially in Eccles’ ardent vocal delivery of the latter. If any of these tracks are too straightforward for you though, then I would suggest “Gemini”, the 11-minute opener that opts to directly expose the group’s post-rock mannerisms and instrumental ability. Any of the four classically-influenced “Intermezzo” pieces also slide in neatly to the album’s tone, providing minute-long piano pieces in an effort to further separate the vast amount of ideas throughout the album. The multitude of ideas throughout the album may tend to confuse first-time listeners, but repeated listens will surely reward those that are skeptical of Dubious Ranger’s lofty ambitions. In my mind though, their ambition has been reflected perfectly on Uneasy Truce at the Watering Hole, an album that has enough highlights to compensate for all the vague ideas and metaphorical interpretation. After all, what else can you expect from a successful concept album?

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Dubious Ranger – Weapon

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Dubious Ranger – French Song

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Dubious Ranger – Ghost Ship

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The specific method of recording an album should never be used an indicator of an artist’s level of commitment. After all, not everyone can afford the $100/hour going rate and, unless an artist is one of the lucky few that gets scooped up by a label and has all of their recording expenses paid for before they even attempt recording a song, they often attempt some amateur recording to satisfy their immediate urges (even if the production quality is equivalent to that of a high school screamo band). You can probably scope out similar demos from reputable bands online by looking thoroughly enough. The point is, an artist’s level of commitment has no bearing on something that is financially driven, but rather how intensely they pursue recording in general. I suppose it speaks enough of Jason Quever’s passion for writing and performing music in the way he recorded the first batch of original material. All in good fun, he packed his eight-track and a bag and broke into his vacationing friend’s house. Making good use of the quiet environment, he recorded a few piano tracks for Cass McCombs’ eventual debut. Free recording space can have its perks, as can recording in a strange environment under odd circumstances.

Seeing that he could put together somewhat polished material, Quever used his gear and knowledge to record the demos for Mockingbird, later to be known as Papercuts’ debut. Although his style has grown more intricate with each passing release, Mockingbird was an impressive effort that drew praise and showcased Quever’s songwriting skills. Fronted by beautiful tracks like “Poor and Free” and “Judy”, Mockingbird found Quever lending his warmly crackling voice to a collection of suave indie-pop tracks with different showings of acoustic guitars, keyboards, violas, and organs. Even though these were his barest songs to date, it was still easy to recognize Quever’s influences. Arguably the most prominent is shoegaze, specifically in the vein of My Bloody Valentine. Quever never pummels the listener with droning chords or like in “When You Sleep” or something similar though; he instead captures beauty through beautiful song arrangements that are often too subdued to be grouped into a category of rock music. It is just stellar pop music at its finest. Quever’s tactful and serene style of songwriting also groups him nicely into a refined version of psychedelic-pop, exhibiting an extraordinary talent that proves similar to that of Caribou’s Daniel Snaith. If direct comparisons were required, this is the one I would make.

An excellent track like “Dictator’s Lament” is nicely representative of Quever’s psychedelic-pop leanings. The sound of an organ immediately becomes a memorable trademark upon the track’s introduction, filling itself in nicely with a pleasant melody that sinks in under a heavily reverbed bass line. Quever’s voice emerges as an innocent croon, sitting somewhere between the voice of Snaith and The Shins’ James Mercer. “Dictator’s Lament” is one of the shortest songs on Papercuts’ third full-length, You Can Have What You Want, but it efficiently presents one of the memorable moments of the album with a chorus that takes its listener to a breezy, colorful world of psychedelic perfection. The following track, “The Machine Will Tell Us So”, also accomplishes this extraordinarily, though in a darker tone that reaps greatly from an organ-bass combo that keeps Quever in a momentary state of ardent restraint. When he howls with fervor after nearly two minutes of build-up, the listener cannot help but feel satisfied as a slickly reverbed electric guitar concludes each successive verse. The following bridge also proves wonderful, working in a very effective bass line over an exotically invigorating organ melody. Both tracks are genuinely a listening journey, and all those that appreciate psychedelic-pop should find immediate comfort in Papercuts’ distinctive style after playing them.

Upon first listen, the folk-based introduction of “Jet Plane” may seem to indicate that You Can Have What You Want is heading for a different direction on the second half of the album, but when the beautiful collision of strings, bass, and percussion occurs it should make the listener fully comfortable and satisfied with Papercuts’ stylistic direction. Quever’s vocals here sound more nasally than usual, evoking either Billy Corgan or Wayne Coyne with his distinctive verse-based melody and backing vocal effects. Like the most upbeat pop tracks on the album like “Dictator’s Lament” and the self-titled effort, it succeeds in all ways imaginable by mastering the audible representation of tranquility. That same self-titled track in “You Can Have Why You Want” is also worth mentioning for its delicate mixture of acoustic guitars, twinkling keys, and wavering synth pad, once again demonstrating the highly impressive amount of beauty that Quever and his collaborators (one of them being Beach House’s Alex Scally) put into each and every song. You Can Have What You Want is a triumph from start to finish, and anyone who enjoys pop music should give it the proper time. Fortunately, all ten tracks grow easily on the listener with their distinctive melodies and original tone, solidifying Quever’s evident position as a supremely talented songwriter. For this longtime resident of San Francisco, 2009 should prove to be a very big year for Papercuts.

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Papercuts – Future Primitive

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Papercuts – Dictator’s Lament***

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Papercuts – The Machine Will Tell Us So***

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Papercuts – You Can Have What You Want***

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***Tracks removed upon request of artist***

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Ever since the emergence of California-based surf-rock instrumentalists like The Surfaris and Dick Dale & the Del-tones in the early ‘60s, it has become an overused practice to describe pop music originating from California by using adjectives like “summery” and “breezy”. When The Beach Boys popularized the format by adding some of the best vocal harmonies in the history of modern music, the stylistically evolving use of surf-rock had reached its pinnacle and evolved into something that was more characteristic of the era’s irresistible display of pop music. Later proving to be a trademark of popular music in America, the legacy of surf-rock continues to thrive to this day, even if such aforementioned adjectives make the genre appear much more linear than it truly is. Such lazily worded assumptions attribute to a challenge that many California-based pop songwriters face. In separating themselves from the stereotypes of surf-rock and ‘60s pop in general, stylistic desperation often becomes prevalent in attempts to diversify themselves on a critical stage. Many artists succumb to how easy it is to be too generic within a very receptive style, but others choose to capitalize on the fundamentals of traditional Californian pop music while simultaneously involving other styles that derive far from the coast of the Pacific Ocean.

At their heart, Carl Jordan’s songs recall a form of infectious simplicity that would have most fans of ‘60s pop quite enamored. His works are instantly memorable and highly melodic, two components that contemporary pop music often shuns for rampant displays of creativity that often turn out to be overwhelming and detrimental to the accessibility of a given song or album. Jordan’s California origins aside, his songs are essentially what many would envision when told of a contemporary indie-pop act from California. His vocals are smooth and tranquil, backed by a revolving array of acoustic guitars, bass, and twinkling synths. While his playing style is too lively and his instrumental arsenal is too focused on real-time rhythm sections and guitar progressions to be grouped within a vein of electronic-pop, his fusion of technology into his sounds allows his songs to flourish even more vividly. This brightly effused interpretation of electronic and acoustic pop is not the most stylistically startling or innovative in the world of contemporary pop music, but Jordan’s project, The Western States Motel, reaps most greatly from one very important aspect: the songwriting. Though his new EP, Painted Birds Flying in the Orange Mirror Sun, contains a mere five songs, there are enough hooks and flawlessly executed moments to compensate for a full-length album.

Not very surprisingly, Jordan apparently wrote most of his lyrics to his self-titled debut album while he overlooked the Pacific Ocean. Alternating between San Francisco, Monterey, and Santa Cruz, his musical career at that point proved to be as reliable as his residence at the tie. Passing freely between friends’ apartments, he took any sort of hospitality to heart as he continued to pursue his musical intents of releasing something under his name. This opportunity came in January of 2007, when he released The Western States Motel under Firebird Field Records. Recorded in a spare bedroom with a few cheap but sentimental items (a $15 acoustic guitar was one), Jordan used his experience from a few recording classes he took at UC Santa Cruz to construct a debut album that proved to be surprisingly memorable for someone with such low financial means. Quality music has a funny way of getting out though, regardless of how much extra cash the artist has in their back pocket. In fact, it can occasionally prove even more respectable if an artist is able to produce exposure without any extraneous expenses at all. For someone with such a DIY mentality close to their heart, Jordan’s songs contain a plethora of both melodic and instrumental alterations. Any questions regarding his skills as either a songwriter or multi-instrumentalist should immediately be put to rest upon hearing either his debut, new EP, or by attending one of his shows (which are backed by a full band, staying true to his expansive repertoire as a tactful multi-instrumentalist).

After Jordan’s original intent to make The Western States Hotel a project designed specifically for scoring local films was relinquished upon the release of his self-titled debut in 2007, he began to recognize that writing pop music was an arguably more accurate embodiment of his influences and aspirations. After all, the album proved so enjoyable that praise among peers and several publications (Spin, LA Times) prompted Jordan to begin working on a continuation to the debut. Like his debut, the process for creating Painted Birds Flying in the Orange Mirror Sun was long and required quite a bit of patience. 18 months resulted in five songs, but these five songs are definitively the best material that Jordan has put out. The excellent “Oh World” is led by an acoustical arpeggio during the verses, complemented by a sprinkling of high-pitched synths at the end of each measure. With its slick incorporation of both electroncia and acoustical pop, the chorus sits somewhere between the indie-pop flair of The Shins and the melodic amiability of Coconut Records. “So many days that just got lost in a haze,” he sings wistfully. “I should be changing my mind. I should be changing my ways.” The track treads no experimental territory, but there is no need for it either way with such brilliant usage of synthesizers and acoustic guitars.

The utterly infectious nature of “Oh World” remains synonymous with Jordan’s pop-oriented DIY intentions, as is also seen on a track like “A Moment in the Sun” where he employs a ‘60s vibe on his keyboards over automated, electro-like percussion. The chorus sees him transition to power-pop territory as a distorted guitar and synthesized strings establish yet another stellar hook on a release full of them. A fascinating instrumental snippet occurs around 01:50 for about 15 seconds, seeing two very snappy synths collide over a bustling rhythm section. This moment in particular reminded me of electronic experimentalism in the vein of Matmos’ recent Supreme Balloon, though the rest of the track and album consists of amiable pop that should be extremely likable upon first listen for many of those exposed to Jordan for the first time. Additionally, the opening “Stampede” deserves a mention for an excellent utilization of those aforementioned synthesized strings during the chorus. The track is also an excellent display of Jordan’s structural tendencies, with “Stampede” being the most varied he has released. As it transitions from a solely acoustic melody to a grandiose string-aided chorus and then back again into a series of dramatically differing melodies that consist of alternating instrumentation, I could not help but get excited about the potential of this young songwriter. Before one of his tracks appears on some esteemed teenage drama and pushes him into some well-deserved exposure, get a grasp of Carl Jordan’s songwriting prowess. You certainly will not regret it.

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The Western States Motel – Oh World

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The Western States Motel – A Moment in the Sun

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The Western States Motel – Stampede

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Experience is invaluable toward the delicate craft of music. Despite some ingenious qualities, all artists have only a limited amount of entirely imaginative ideas with little to no personalized dimensions involved. Their personal lives encompass a degree of relevantly invigorating reflections – whether it is through their own experiences or those of their acquaintances – that uplift their music into something that is wholesomely personal, consequently making their material enthralling if other more musically-laden elements are successfully prevalent. Whether you look at legends like Bob Dylan chronicling the unlawful justices of historically documented racism in a track like “Hurricane” or Johnny Cash relaying the rite of passage from youth to adulthood on “Don’t Take Your Guns to Town”, the majority of the most venerable songwriters of this generation and past have used both events and experiences that they have personally related to in an effort to make their music much more than a catchy melody or a series of intricately impressive arrangements. They have created art that is both admirably thought-provoking and genuinely invigorating, aspects that many contemporary artists now take wisely to heart. While looking at her influences and admirable method of songwriting, it is quite evident that Jolie Holland values many of these aspects in a form that other modern artists push foolishly aside.

For her fourth studio album, Holland has taken on a thematic approach that will not seem bizarre at all to listeners of her previously acclaimed three albums. Ever since the release of her debut album, Catalpa, in 2003, listeners have been treated to her perspective viewpoints on the present and past, a constantly reoccurring theme among her albums and the songs within them. As one of the founders of The Be Good Tanyas, Holland found her ambitions to be too individualistically expansive for a group atmosphere, departing from the group in 2001 after contributing to the release of their first album, Blue Horse. After a move back to San Francisco, she began smoothing out her pre-written songs and put them in demo form. The demos exhibited a remarkable fusion of folk, blues, and country, with tinges of the latter showing Holland’s original Texas roots in stylishly memorable form. It was even enough to grab the attention of Tom Waits, the legendary songwriter whose selfless qualities have always seen him swoop up unrecognizable songwriters into a deservedly influential spotlight based on his name alone. He even went as far to nominate Catalpa, her released collection of demos, for the Short List Music Prize. It did not make the final cut, but gave her plenty of recognition to garner a substantial fan base and begin work on her second album, Escondida.

Translating to “hidden” in Spanish, the titling of Escondida was somewhat ironic in the sense that it uncovered Holland to an even broader audience with her first batch of new material designed specifically for one album. It was received just as well as her debut, displaying a variety of classic American genres with her accustomed forms of folk and country now being integrated with a sharp jazzy demeanor. In addition to playing a handful of instruments on the album herself, she was also credited with production credits in addition to lead vocals, guitar, piano, and ukulele. The album was a somewhat lighter experience than Catalpa without sacrificing the brooding imagery and eclectic thematic grasp, resulting in an album that was just as strong as the first. Her third album, the bleakly titled Springtime Can Kill You, saw the most widespread acclaim yet with Holland once again taking the helms as producer in addition to lead songwriter. The style was a continuation, but many felt that the batch of songs that Holland put out were the most captivating of her new but exciting career. French horns, glockenspiels, tubas, accordions, and Hawaiian guitars were only a few of the instruments that accompanied Holland’s impressive stylistic accompaniment. From the progressively jazzy demeanor of the title track to free-flowing country tracks like “Moonshiner” and “Ghostly Girl”, the album was a winner in all formats.

To keep up with her constant discography, Holland released her fourth studio album, The Living and the Dead, on October 7th through Anti Records, the label that has released all four of her albums. Now featuring a few familiar names like M. Ward and Marc Ribot on guitar, Holland resumes her role as producer (alongside Shahzad Ismaily) and lead songwriter on ten tracks that again define why her simultaneous grasp of several American music genres is hard to compare amongst contemporary songwriters. It is highly prevalent even on the opening “Mexico City” that her talents as a vocalist should not go overlooked either, as they are responsible here for a variety of emotionally credited hooks that sees her extensive vocal range quiver and somberly reflect upon the loneliness of life’s travails as she concludes resoundingly by repeating the album’s title, “the living and the dead”. It is all part of the album’s theme, one that opts to successfully display the emotional embodiments of the past and present. Like songwriters in the vein of Tom Waits, one of the individuals responsible for bringing the talented Holland to light, she is able to create characters and scenarios that effectively portray her thematic intentions and genuinely foretold experiences effectively.

“Only a few old petals left on the rose that touched your hand,” she sings on the ceaselessly expanding guitar-led fervor of “Palmyra”. “My little heart is a graveyard; it’s a no man’s land.” Frustration, regret, and moving on are all highlighted in this outstanding effort, proving to be yet another great example of Holland’s talents as a lyricist and songwriter. Other highlights include a sparsely enjoyable cover of “Love Henry” with subtle electronic elements and the exotically enthralling thump of the rhythmically led “Fox in Its Hole”. As for the majority of The Living and the Dead, I found it to be her best release yet. Considering that she seems to be getting better with each successive release, it should only be a matter of time before she becomes a brand name in a genre that will never be quite singularly definable.

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Jolie Holland – Mexico City

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Jolie Holland – Palmyra

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Jolie Holland – Fox in Its Hole

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For a band that has just recently broken out of the local eye, drawing comparisons to an artist who they idolize is often flattering. While no artist wishes to be forever grouped with a particular influence, a feeling of widespread recognition in that listeners are able to audibly grasp the forms of music that molded them as songwriters and performers is certainly a step forward in becoming the “next big thing”. After all, this is a career stage that has occurred for nearly every single budding artist in the modern age; critics make it easier for fans by comparing an unheard-of band to an artist who is recognized and revered by many, consequently drawing in a variety of new fans who embrace the respective comparison in obsessive form. That being said, when a member of the actual group you are being compared to shows up to your first big-time gig based on the press comparisons alone, you know immediately that you must be doing something right. And when that guy in attendance was one of the founding members of a group as undoubtedly important as the Talking Heads, well, I am not sure how the beginning of a music career could get much better. That is, of course, unless your influence goes a step further and actually helps produce your debut album…

The Black and White Years have lived this experience with Jerry Harrison, the keyboardist and guitarist for one of the best new-wave groups of all-time, Talking Heads. I have known many veteran songwriters to dismiss contemporary idolizers as nothing more than individuals with no innovation of their own, entirely void of original content. This can occasionally prove to be an ignorant stance, though it can also be startlingly accurate in many cases. When Harrison heard about the comparisons being made to his former band, a streak of curiosity caused him to check out the four-piece from Austin, Texas during SXSW (conveniently taking place in Austin). Considering that The Black and White Years were the first of five bands to feature at a rather hidden showcase (it was in a parking lot), Harrison was one of seven people in attendance. Though the atmosphere could have been more exciting, Harrison enjoyed the set so much that he became very friendly with the band, eventually inviting them to his studio in San Francisco to record their self-titled debut album five weeks later. Though we all like to tell ourselves that this type of philanthropy happens often, it is rare for someone of Harrison’s status to help out a local group with no credibility to speak of. He had little incentive to do so, but it is simply an example of someone whose love for music appears to only get stronger with age.

Listening to The Black and White Years myself, it is quite evident why Harrison was so impressed. The four-piece is clearly infatuated with the power-pop and new-wave schematics of the past, but only to a certain agreeable extent. Their additional grasp of electronic pop allows them to simultaneously mix and mash genres, resulting in a force that manages to be eclectic on a track-by-track basis while maintaining the accessibility that brought them such commendable comparisons in the first place. The songs are tightly executed and directly infectious, led by an expert rhythm section consisting of bassist John Aldridge and veteran drummer Steve Ferrone, the latter of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers fame. The Black and White Years originally used drum loops as their only source of percussion during live shows but, with the help of Harrison and engineer Eric Thorngren, they brought in Ferrone to add a dynamic feel to the final recordings. As for the constant comparisons to Talking Heads, it is more prevalent in delivery than the actual stylistic substance. Vocalist Scott Butler sings with the occasional stutter and high level of embellishment, causing the David Byrne influence to be there regardless of how you look at it. While it is more prevalent on some tracks (“You Are a Dragon”) than others (“Everyone”), it never manages to sound too intentional or manipulative.

It is ironic that comparisons were one of the primary reasons The Black and White Years found success, mainly because it is impossible to singularly classify them. Their self-titled debut is filled with a variety of genres, with new-wave, electro-pop, and ska being the three most noticeable forces at work. They occasionally integrate into one another, though the majority of the album sees a track focus on one or two of the styles while remaining consistent with the steady rhythm section. “Power to Change” is one of the few that utilizes all three, being a thorough success in the process. The guitar progression immediately resembles the use of tremolo in the genre of ska, with the glistening of backing synths energizing the primary melodic display over Butler’s demonstrative vocal delivery. It serves as the album’s second track, a wise decision considering that it allows listeners to ease themselves into the varying styles about to be presented during the album’s remaining duration. The downright catchy “Evil Ape” is the best example of the group’s ability to produce fantastic new-wave that echoes, yes, Talking Heads. “It is an ugly world,” Butler sings, stuttering in Byrne fashion before the track reverts to an enjoyably diversified guitar riff backed by the entry of eerie keys. “Everyone” is a track that has plenty of attitude, adding a bit to brass to the group’s impressive formula to even provide glimpses of a spaghetti western with its slick melodic alternations. I have to say I’m with Jerry Harrison on this one: The Black and White Years are definitely a band to look out for.

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The Black and White Years – Evil Ape

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The Black and White Years – Power to Change

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The Black and White Years – Everyone

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Though they seem to be in the minority these days, some songwriters are just better off writing songs on their own. In addition to having more helping hands available in the process of writing and recording material, bands can provide a stable source of personal and artistic support for a lead songwriter who may be in dire need of it. However, they can also provide the exact opposite in disrupting an artistic vision in order to provide for their own weaker version; gathering up a group of talented musicians who hold a similar vision as the lead songwriter is an arduous feat that is often determined by chance. This level of cooperation can vary from artist to artist and it certainly has nothing to do with their congeniality or morality, but simply how well they work together with other people when writing music. For most artists, the discovery of whether or not they work most efficiently in a group or isolated environment is determined after attempting both circumstances. Finding success in the first group or project one forms is extremely rare, often only achieved by individuals who exceed standards of creativity. After all, a colossal success is rare to come by when a failure has not preceded it.

Gary Levitt has spent over a decade in various projects, gaining experience while witnessing the highs and lows of being both a songwriter in a group and solo project. In fact, as far as being a member in a band goes, Levitt has experienced life in a quartet, a trio, and a duo. He has seen a reasonable share of success from each of them but none has reached the recognition or level of potential that his solo project, Setting Sun, has provided since the release of his debut album, holed up, in 2002. Levitt’s first foray came when he was situated in New York during the ‘90s. Consisting of a revolving lineup, he served as one of the founding members of The Kung-Fu Grip. The group remained in New York four 4 years and toured frequently throughout the East Coast before making their way out to San Francisco. While there, they cut out all excess pieces and reverted to being a tightly focused trio. Around the same time, Levitt met Erica Quitzow and they formed the indie-pop duo Heavy Pebble together. Along with The Kung-Fu Grip, Levitt started making a name for himself on the West Coast with several releases and a busy touring schedule. When Levitt felt that he had the confidence and experience necessary to try his hand at something new and on his own, both groups disbanded and he formed Setting Sun.

After secluding himself in an apartment with some gear and two cheap microphones, he emerged in 2002 with holed up, Setting Sun’s debut. It showcased Levitt’s reverence for lo-fi folk and pop music, with an acoustic guitar often guiding the way over alternating crescendos. Holed up caught the attention of Virgin recording artist and Furslide frontwoman Jennifer Turner and she invited him to London to play guitar for her band Inner. He stayed for a bit and wrote two songs for their debut album, lovetheonlyway, before returning home to resume work on his solo material. Upon his return, the release of holed up had captured an increasing amount of attention to coincide with Setting Sun’s rampant tour as a three-piece. Around the same time, Levitt also began performing solo every night with his acoustical charm. His second album, Math and Magic, followed in 2005 and capitalized upon the potential that holed up displayed. Produced by Richard Chiu, it was a more expansive release that saw Levitt’s songwriting embrace a more polished soundscape. Despite their differences though, both albums hold up and one can easily find the enjoyment in the lo-fi charm of holed up and the evolutionary blend of folk and pop in Math and Magic.

For his third and most enjoyable album to date, Levitt has assembled an impressively wide array of experience to produce a sound that fulfills all expectations that were provided by the potential of his first two albums. Set to be released on June 10th, Children of the Wild features 11 tracks that show Levitt’s best songwriting to date. The urging thump of “No Devil me no More” provides exceptional use of the cello, with an underlying bass line and forceful percussive response complementing the experimental string use even more. The track features collaborator and label-mate Erica Quitzow on vocals, a role she reprises for a handful of very memorable tracks throughout the album. The true standout of the album for me though is “How Long”, a magnificent track that concurrently manages to be romantically touching and exceptionally infectious. “I hope you feel the same, feel the same, as you’re whistling my name,” Levitt sings somberly, backed by an impressive acoustical progression and steadfast rhythm section. “How long, how long,” Levitt and Quitzow sing in a duet during the chorus, providing a beautiful rendition that may even soak the eyes. Comparisons to The Magic Numbers and folk-pop groups of the ’70s are prevalent and certainly welcome in this case. The track manages to remain in the conventional realm of folk with amiable elements of indie-pop peaking through, mainly through the vocal execution and use of strings.

“Carry me Away” is one of the most straightforward tracks on Children of the Wild but it still manages to feature an ardently impressive chorus in addition to being a further display of Levitt’s lyrical prowess. As the song’s topic of romantic indecision wears thick, Levitt’s repeated sentiment of “enchanting, romancing you” is one that he fulfills extremely well through his delicately crafted songwriting. He now resides in upstate New York but the word is beginning to spread quickly. When Children of the Wild is released in a few weeks, I strongly recommend it as being one of the most straightforwardly enjoyable folk albums of the year so far.

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Setting Sun – How Long

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Setting Sun – No Devil me no More

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Setting Sun – Carry me Away

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When I was 8 years old, my taste of music was generally limited to conventionally accessible acts in the vein of The Beatles, Radiohead, and Zeppelin. True, no one will deny the significance of any of those artists, but my taste had clearly not yet reached a level where people would respond with “who the hell is that?” after asking who my favorite new artists were. That being said, if an 8 year old trotted into their 2nd grade with a presentation assignment to share with the class their favorite artist, there is a chance that even teacher would be startled if the answer was someone like Tom Waits. Waits, as most of us know, is one of the most enigmatically successful songwriters of the past 30 years. Still though, how his ingenious lyrical intellect and blending of various – and often inaccessible – musical styles could capture the usually inattentive ears of an 8 year old is beyond me. Well, as it was easily apparent at an early age, Phoebe Killdeer had a natural tendency to stray outside the artistic norms. “Tom Waits got to me at the age of 8 and I’ve been a constant listener ever since,” the aspiring songwriter explains, effusively confident in her unconventionally fulfilling ways. It is easy to believe that songwriters are most efficiently groomed by stylistically analogous influences they discovered as a child. In Killdeer’s case, she was and still appears to be ahead of the pack.

Even before she became enamored with the individualistic audacities of Tom Waits, Killdeer also proved mature beyond her years when she expressed an interest in the choreography of dance. “I was fascinated with the relationship between movements and sounds and always felt that they communicated through a language I could understand,” she says. This sparked interest later prepared Killdeer for her current occupation as a talented songwriter with a potential that remains as high as the sky. Like Waits, she continues to disregard any stylistic norms in favor for her own tendencies. Is she a beatnik at heart? Sure, I guess you could call her that if the term fails to bother you, but Killdeer’s embrace of stylistic philosophies both old and new provides for an experience that is freshly stimulating. As for her influences apart from Waits, Killdeer believes that her most important influence derives from a broad level of sociology that we can all relate to. “People are my inspiration,” Killdeer says, referencing civilization as a whole instead of through specific individuals. “They are a never-ending source of emotions, feelings, reactions, disturbances, and surprises. If you sit long enough you will always catch a moment, just like a photographer who has caught a story, a thought in a snapshot.” For Killdeer, her first snapshot in the world of songwriting happens to be one of the most enjoyable debuts of 2008.

Like many young artists looking to get their share of experience, Killdeer began her musical career collaborating with artists who had been around long enough to know a helpful thing or two about the industry. Basement Jaxx, Bang Gang, and Nouvelle Vague were a few of these names, with the latter providing a surreal experience for the young Killdeer. After contributing to Nouvelle Vague’s second album, Bande à Part, she participated in a world tour with the French duo, apparently lasting 3 years. Knowing Nouvelle Vague’s leading man, Marc Collin, also helped out to a large extent in the long run; he went on to produce Killdeer’s solo debut, Weather’s Coming. To be released on April 1st, it is truly one of the most impressive debuts of the year so far. “It dramatizes the elements I love most about our little world; people and what makes us so undeniably us,” Killdeer says. “I wanted the sound of the album to be dirty enough to represent the quirkiness of these characteristics, so with Marc Collin we got some crazy horns, ghostly vibraphones, edgy guitars, and tribal drums together to capture the necessary mood.” And after six weeks of working with producer Marc Collin and mixer Oz Fritz in the city of San Francisco, Killdeer realized just as much as her listeners that her debut has the capability to be something special.

Alongside an extremely capable backing band that goes by The Short Straws, Killdeer’s outstanding debut tackles a variety of genres that include hints of rockabilly, blues, and folk. With tinges of surf, punk, and even funk also being evident, her ability to write addictive pop songs with such underlying stylistic leanings is extremely impressive. With Killdeer’s seductively swanky vocals complementing her eclectic stylistic approach, it proves to be a lethal combo. The lush “Let Me” utilizes forms of folk, soul, and even Afro-pop as Killdeer breezily glides over a twinkling set of keys. The keys have the simple job of providing chordal whole notes, with the single-handed spur of percussion supplementing the rhythm. Separate keys in a deeper tone appear after each verse, establishing a hook that mainly relies on the melodic similarities to nostalgic soul-like ballads. “He’s Gone” sees Killdeer playing more with elements of R&B and vocal jazz; the brass section provides for a refreshing alternative to guitars and keys. And for kicks and giggles, many will find the brass to be particularly reminiscent of… Tom Waits, of course.

For vocal jazz, however, nothing on the album can come close to comparing to “Big Fight”. Killdeer vocally reflects the melodic arrangements of each brass instrument, providing a “bang!” for every note during the bridge. She whispers seductively and croons like a jazz bar veteran throughout the entire track, backed by a devastatingly infectious instrumental section; the music is compliments of the outstanding The Short Straws. “I Get Nervous” is one of the most devastatingly haunting tracks I have heard so far this year. An organ leads this minimalist gem as the reverb-soaked Killdeer asks, “Why can’t love be a little easier on me? Scratch me, pinch me,” before the brooding rush of guitars and percussion. Almond also provides outstanding production, using techniques of implementing orchestral elements into pop music somewhat similarly to Matthew Herbert. Even tracks in the vein of traditional Americana and rockabilly, like “Paranoia” and “How Far” respectively, bode well. However, it is in avant-garde gems like “I Get Nervous” and “Big Fight” providing the best examples of Killdeer’s outstanding songwriting, even if “Let Me” remains the most instantaneously infectious. If you fail to pick up Weather’s Coming on April Fools’ Day, the joke is simply is on you.

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Phoebe Killdeer & The Short Straws – Let Me

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Phoebe Killdeer & The Short Straws – Big Fight

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Phoebe Killdeer & The Short Straws – I Get Nervous

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Looking back on when they were kids, many adults have a rather amiable image of the ice cream man. You know, the smiling dude who drove around in a white truck and played traditionally annoying tunes like “Pop Goes the Weasel” while making a profit from distributing cavities, all done in a literally tasteful manner. It may sound grim when looking back but the only thing of relevance at the time was that the ice cream was pretty damn good (especially on a summer day). So, imagine if your memories instead recalled a bearded man who substituted “Pop Goes the Weasel” with Earth, Wind & Fire’s greatest hits, drove around with a handful of scantily clad young women in tow, and treated kids with a smile and a falsetto… all whilst in the outfit of a traditional Good Humor salesman. Yeah, that’s right – it would be like a dream come true (or an acid trip gone terribly wrong). This is the amusing image that Quinn Luke has coaxed up and, as the ladies reportedly claim, he is the most desirable ice cream man on the east coast. Working his other job as a songwriter based out of NYC, Luke is better known under his alias of Bing Ji Ling, a clever fixture that translates to “ice cream” in Mandarin. Professing a love for ’70s funk, ’80s R&B, and any other style that encourages ceaseless thrusting, Luke is just the type of guy you would expect to show up in an episode of Yacht Rock. After all, he’s got the image of a ’70s soft-rocker down to commendable preciseness.

Though his style alone will always provide room for ample entertainment, Luke’s following has mainly been built off of his ability to produce a sound that is both enjoyably nostalgic and instantaneously accessible. Taking note of the melodic prowess of eclectically groundbreaking acts like Prince and Stevie Wonder while touching on the elements of funk that pushed the genre into the mainstream during the early ’70s, the infectious result originates from Luke’s genuine affection for funk and soul; both Earth, Wind & Fire and Sly & the Family Stone are heavily prevalent influences for good reason. Like his stylistic preference and alias may indicate, he is also quite a worldly musician. In addition to living in Shanghai for a year (he is fluent in Mandarin), Luke has played in prominent venues all over the world; the Bowery Ballroom (NYC), Viper Room (LA), and Liquid Room (Tokyo) are just a few examples. At several shows, Luke apparently had “ice cream ladies” hand out sweet treats while Luke and his backing band were dressed in Good Humor uniforms. As odd as it sounds, I would have killed to be there for something like that. This is especially in consideration toward Luke’s musical output, as he delivers a form of catchy soul-pop that remains difficult to rival in contemporary music.

In early 2007, Luke made the move from San Francisco to New York. The change of scenery also brought upon a slight change of style, with his inherent influences of soul and R&B now fusing more prominently with elements of pop. Luke’s new EP, June Degrees in December, sees him tackle a more flexible version of his past influences, now incorporating a sound that likens itself more to breezy, summer-esque pop. The opening track, “Kathalina”, is a prime example of such a transition. It utilizes a form of exuberant Latin pop that excels with steadfast acoustic progressions and an exuberant rhythm section, with Luke’s seductively engaging vocals being expectedly remarkable. Though many would have previously considered it absurd to compare Bing Li Jing to acts like Maroon 5 and Michael McDonald when looking at his earlier, more traditional material, “Kathalina” is certainly one of Luke’s most accessible attempts yet. Like past releases Doodle Loot Doot Doodle A Doo and Fire and Ice Cream, the production is sharp and “Kathalina” in particular appears primed for the radio airwaves. Its radio-friendly appeal comes in the simplistic melodic progression and Luke’s smooth vocals, both the result of his willingness to become more stylistically flexible. If you want an equally satisfying and more recognizable example of Luke’s soaring falsetto, check out his cover of AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” on his MySpace (if you have not heard it on Ubiquity Record’s Rewind 3 compilation already). In all honesty, his swanky version of the classic track may be one of the most original classic rock covers I have ever heard. Who knew that organ solos, falsettos, classy R&B, and AC/DC would go so well together?

June Degrees in December is a short effort, including 5 tracks that stretch just over 18 minutes. Still, it serves as more of a stylistic experiment for Luke if anything. As he slowly but steadily involves more stylistic elements into his original compositional display of soul, R&B, and pop, there is little doubt that he will grow into a songwriter whose melodic variation will be impossible to overlook. He already has the seductiveness required of a soul artist too, as tracks like “June Degrees in December” provide supreme relaxation over delicately interlaced keys and and a consuming bass line; it is somewhat reminiscent of Elvis Costello’s more subdued material. “Be Here With You” provides an alluring vocal performance that should make most girls weak at the knees, while “This Song Is For You” incorporates tropical keys over a repetitive melody in what is the one of the most consistent vocal spots on the EP. In fact, if I had to choose, Luke reminds me most of Paul Weller during his days with The Style Council. Like Weller, Luke has the opportunity to prove himself as a songwriter who can simultaneously juggle elements of pop, R&B, and soul without sounding too overbearing or desperate. With a quality EP like June Degrees in December making the rounds, I am looking forward to Luke’s ongoing progression as an eclectically engaging songwriter.

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Bing Ji Ling – Kathalina

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Bing Ji Ling – Be Here With You

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Bing Ji Ling – June Degrees in December

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