by Josh Taylor

Julian Shah-Tayler was born to make music. Putting out an EP every few months and pumping out 50-70 songs a year is no easy feat, unless you show prevalently the aspects of a well-rounded musician. His robust musicianship is responsible for his versatility as an artist. What I noticed after listening to his latest EP, Un Ange Passe, is that Julian is a songwriter who creates for his heart’s content. He strays from songwriting conventions and isn’t afraid to experiment if it amuses his untypical sensibilities.

Julian’s songs distinctly belong to their maker. Un Ange Passe is very personal and all the songs on the EP (with the exception of “Wetter”) were written for a dearly departed friend of Julian’s who tragically passed away. The literal translation of the title “Un Ange Passe” is “an angel is passing”, but is usually used when an awkward silence falls over the room. The EP tells a brief and interesting story about what happened to Christine. Julian tells it well, as the story is endearing and stripped down to the most honest details.

Instead of diving into the story headfirst, the EP begins with “Wetter.”  The songs on the EP are sandwiched by “Wetter” and the remix of “Wetter” by Karl Leiker. This song is definitely the black sheep… uptempo, naughty lyrics and electro influence. The feel of the song is great and could be a radio hit. The second song on Un Ange Passe is “Everything Is You”, serving as a good transition into the rest of the EP, which is more relaxed musically. The song begins with finger-snapping, chimes and some elusive and wandering exotic-sounding instruments. Then iit develops a direction and chooses to take on a New Order/Depeche Mode feel. The nameless exotics remain, lending a curious tone to the song. It’s almost as if they don’t belong, but are still welcomed.

“Communication” resembles the sparse feel of a desert. It’s expansive (at 5 and a half minutes) and filled with many instrumental breaks. The track lulls and winds but I don’t know that it goes anywhere. All I know is that when I listen to it, I start to space out.  If Julian wanted “Communication” to have a daydream-inducing effect, then bravo — well done, because that is exactly what happens.

“Christine” is where the EP starts to come together and the song clearly lays out what exactly happened to his late friend of the same name. Make what you want of the other songs and interpret them as you wish, but here is what happened, Julian seems to say. Musically, “Christine” brings to mind The Smiths “How Soon Is Now?” and has the same pensive inquiry.  One of the most striking and revealing lyrics is “as the kiss of the needle delivers you to the real world” followed by this lyric in the bridge “even if this life could give you all the love you need, I guess you had enough.” The verdict: overdose.

Un Ange Passe occupies a certain estranged darkness, but it is only when the listener gets to “Christine” that I feel they can go back and find its lingering presence in the background of the entire EP. Perhaps that misplaced discomfort is the awkwardness that the album title also refers to. Still, the way the song is handled is half ode, half something else that I can’t quite pin down. For a song written for a close friend the song isn’t particularly sentimental, which is odd to me. However,  I think those feelings find their way into the next song “Lullabies.”

From what I heard, “Lullabies” was written for Julian’s future daughter. But the listener is also led to believe that perhaps the song’s tender message is intended for Christine as well. The lullaby soothes the listener as well as the singer, perhaps reminding him that everything will be fine and there really is nothing to be afraid of during the night, and maybe in death…

Whatever the ultimate purpose of Un Ange Passe is, it can be listened to in many different ways. Julian is adventurous with his artistic choices and presents his subject matter though a twisted lens. This is not to say that his method is perverse, but rather aiming for artistic perfection on his own terms. Some say that’s a nifty idea. I would say it’s better than nifty, or original, or clever. I would say the whole EP is a noble effort. Too many musicians make music to turn a quick buck but lack the vision to make something worthwhile. Others write for their heart’s content, yet lack the talent to make sophisticated music. Julian, however, is the best of both. He is talented and passionate, which shows remarkably.

One last thing I noticed: None of these songs showcase Julian’s piano talents, but word on the street is that his full-length debut does. Entitled Coito Ergo Sum, it is due in the fall. So keep an eye out, or an ear rather.

RIYL: Depeche Mode, Dave Gahan, New Order, Erasure, Pet Shop Boys, Duran Duran, The Cure, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Alphaville, David Wrench, The Human League, Gary Numan, Tears for Fears, Soft Cell, INXS, Talk Talk, A Flock of Seagulls, Naked Eyes, Blancmange

——————————————————————————————

Julian Shah-Tayler – Everything Is You

——————————————————————————————

Julian Shah-Tayler – Wetter

——————————————————————————————

Julian Shah-Tayler – In Your Room (Depeche Mode cover)

——————————————————————————————

Impossible Things Records

MySpace

BUY

The post Julian Shah-Tayler appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

Continuing with the recent theme of atmospheric pop music that Washed Out and Neon Indian showed us, Her Vanished Grace deliver a similar sort of layer-based sereneness that differentiates itself through dark and moody Brit-rock instead of chilly electronica or sample-based experimentation. By most accounts, Blue is their tenth release of new material since their debut, State of Grace, was released in 1991 with a promising take on atmospheric pop that revolved around assorted guitars and keyboards. Her Vanished Grace’s actual number of releases is somewhat debated due to their cult-like following, which has manufactured many assorted mixtapes and compilations in itself. If one thing is for certain though, it is the rare capability that this band has to remain interesting as time goes on. As their tenth release Blue shows us, it does not take a precise discography for a listener to witness Her Vanished Grace’s maturation. Their initial career reaped from interesting use of post-rock, noise, and shoegaze, wearing influences like Sonic Youth and My Bloody Valentine on their sleeves despite noticeably lo-fi production that prevented the New York-based group from reaching widespread recognition. Their work still touts those prestigious influences today, but now they infuse more of their originality in an effort to differentiate themselves. So far, so good.

The most recent incarnation of Her Vanished Grace commenced in 2000 with Colors Vols. 1 & 2, when the founding husband-and-wife duo of Charles and Nance Nieland disbanded the initial workings of Her Vanished Grace and combined forces with bassist Maria Theodosiadou and drummer Brian Haarer to form a more full-bodied version of their initial group. A vigorously talented rhythm section and higher-budget recording methods in addition to the songwriter-guitarist husband-and-wife duo paved way for their most successful period in the early to mid 2000s. Five new albums were released after Colors, the most recent being the excellent Blue. Although their success to date has been gaining momentum for several years now, Blue may be the knockout punch that propels this band from obscurity to unanimous acclaim. Charles and Nance met at New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art about two decades ago, and ever since then they have been working together to pursue their dream of musical success. Time is only relative for artists, and many may consider success occurring after attributed experience is better than success prior to experience, for it is a factor that is a monumental factor in determining an artist’s durability.

Durability is synonymous with Her Vanished Grace, at least in the sense that longtime fans have yet to be disappointed with the four-piece. Billy Loose has since replaced Haarer on drums but the original duo along with Theodosiadou are still there along with their ambitions. In terms of stylistic exploration, Blue has little to offer in terms of breakthroughs, but their blending of familiar styles like power-pop and shoegaze into one beautiful audible landscape make up for any lack of stylistic innovation. To enjoy Blue one must push aside any stylistic biases regarding shoegaze, as common stylistic elements like reverb and gushing guitars are abundant but not utilized in a conventional manner. Since the melodies are crisp and polished in the form of modern indie-pop instead, the regressing influence is not exposed in the way one might expect. The excellent self-titled track instead reaps from an infectious blend of power-pop and post-punk, being grounded in production techniques involving heavy doses of reverb, thick tremolos, and heightening guitar arpeggios that clash with a bustling rhythm section to consume the listener through both pop-minded appeal and atmospheric vision. Like predecessors in the vein of Sonic Youth and Ride, Blue marks Her Vanished Grace’s true emerging period as a group putting their ambition to accessible use without sacrificing the ingenuity that got them there in the first place.

Although both Charles and Nance contribute vocal duties on Blue, Charles is primarily used due to the way his brooding vocals accentuate the retrospective and forlorn aroma of post-punk and shoegaze most commonly attributed to Her Vanished Grace. The band employs their differing vocal styles well, allowing each specialty to reap from their eclectic use of instrumentation. For instance, Charles is lead on the empowering “Blue”, where a brilliantly moody chorus provides awe-inspiring embrace in washed layers of guitars and synth pads. Its strength is dependent on darkening mood and evolving versatility, growing from an emotive guitar-driven piece to one guided by distinctive layers of sound that accompany a versatile croon that goes from low-pitched to an ethereal chant of sorts with heightened pitch. Charles’ presence is felt in the album’s darker tracks, leaving room for Nance to take control of more lighthearted efforts like “Rush”. With a better grasp of bubblegum-pop or lighthearted indie-pop in the vein of Metric or Mates of State, “Rush” works by using a bunch of repeating guitar chords before exerting itself into a chorus that reminds me of 90s Brit-rock in the vein of PJ Harvey, Black Box Recorder, or even less absurd Morrissey efforts like “Reader Meets Author” with its swirling sort of guitar-based simplicity. Although it strains itself from too much repetition, it is a nice reliever from Her Vanished Grace’s more emotionally complex efforts like “Blue and “Remember”, as enjoyable as they are.

The latter is narrative in approach as Charles and Nance participate in a duet, again retracing their steps to the amiable type of alt-rock that was abundant throughout the ’90s. With Charles’ vocals at times sounding like a cross between Gruff Rhys, Morrissey, and Hayden Thorpe (Wild Beasts), his versatile approach does wonders to this respective style along with the band’s tendency for anthemic hooks. Nance’s contributions contrast somewhat in terms of style, but the parallel creates very refreshing circumstances that are simply a testament to the group’s valuable chemistry. The diversity between efforts like “Blue” and “Rush” summarize the album’s success quite well, as Blue serves as an enjoyable release that relies on the band’s gathered experience in the spectrums of pop music and layer-based atmospherics. Without the experience of nearly two decades I would be surprised if Blue would have even been possible, but Her Vanished Grace have undoubtedly reached an artistic peak by doing so without sacrificing what got them here in the first place.

——————————————————————————————

Her Vanished Grace – Blue

——————————————————————————————

Her Vanished Grace – Slip Away

——————————————————————————————

Her Vanished Grace – Remember

——————————————————————————————

Official Web Site

MySpace

BUY

The post Her Vanished Grace appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

On the heels of next week’s CMJ festival in NYC, Tim Williams is exemplary of the local favorites you are bound to find there. The Brooklyn-based songwriter caught one of his first breaks at CMJ in 2004, shortly after his debut Tales of Digression, and has been riding the wave ever since. Employing a very formidable style of indie-pop, Williams’ mixture of slick guitar riffs, inventive chorus-based hooks, and ardent vocals with the occasional yelps and grunts should cater to fans of Phoenix, Ben Kweller, Danielson, and Modest Mouse. His sound has a very contemporary feel to it, due in part to the continuous sense of capriciousness that his caressing vocals and versatile guitar work collaborate to produce. As a result, Williams has always been one or two hits away from holding a similar status as these major players. He has always enjoyed little more than local success though due to his past two album’s lack of exposure and focus. Their primary gratification was the demonstration of potential rather than fully embodied talent. The songs on Tales of Digression and its 2007 follow-up, When Work Is Done, sometimes appeared rough around the edges or devoid of focus, but what they did have was an imaginative premise with expertly integrated hooks. Cohesiveness was simply the final ingredient that Williams was missing to formulate his success.

Williams’ third album, Careful Love, continues the artistic maturity that its predecessor, When Work Is Done, showed off so impressively. It is not that Williams is particularly groundbreaking or stylistically inventive; his style of indie-pop should sound familiar to anyone with an ear or two. Instead, it is what he makes of it that is so worthwhile. Listening to snippets of any given track probably will not convince anyone of his artistic merits, but what a full listen of Careful Love exposes is a sensibility that is rare amongst most contemporary pop songwriters. There is a sense of virtuosity here, which in itself is a commodity since the respective genre is one where playing it safe is often advised. Williams does a little bit of both on Careful Love, mixing imminent college-radio favorites like “I Hit Another Wall” and “Oceans” with more avant-garde efforts (at least for the realm of indie-pop) that explore varying tempos, deliveries, and styles ranging from the dab of funk in “Ozone Street” to the electro-industrial influence of the rhythmically inclined “Right All Along”. When these are supplemented every other track or so that instead contain breezy, carefree indie-pop that requires little attentiveness to enjoy, it finds a nice middle ground between overly accessible indie-pop and intimidating avant-garde.

That Careful Love falls into neither category as a cumulative effort is a feat that his previous two albums did not accomplish, though When Work Is Done came close to doing so. Williams wrote this most recent effort after he successfully underwent open-heart surgery in May 2008, wasting no time after getting out of the hospital in writing tracks that packed more sincerity and expansiveness than before. One of the reasons for this expansiveness was the addition of a full band, which make their appearance on Careful Love in fantastic form. Where previous efforts would find Williams strumming his acoustic guitar with little to no accompaniment, the heightened sense of collaboration on Careful Love also attributes to the stylistic ambitiousness that the release portrays. “Stilts” is another nice example of Williams’ inventive indie-rock, utilizing the sounds of a sliding electric guitar and reflective arpeggio as Williams . This particular vocal technique is done throughout the album, with yelps or whoo-hoos making apt appearances on entertaining choruses that also include “Right All Along”, the orchestral dramatics of “I Want to Die in California”, and “Oceans”. The latter is so serene that it almost becomes reminiscent of Coldplay with its melancholic keys or Little Joy with its bright guitar chords. The title implies relaxation and the composition strongly enforces that carefree ideology with a brisk melody and flourishes of tropical bliss.

Another interesting cut on the album includes “I Want to Die in California”, a genuinely touching closer that reminds me of David Vandervelde’s fantastic debut, The Moonstation House Band. In that album he juggled grandiose orchestral-pop with the likes of indie-rock and glam-rock, resulting in something both nostalgic and groundbreaking. This effort is quite similar, finding Williams converting his classically soothing indie-pop croon to one with a western-ish twang. It feels particularly old-fashioned with its natural pianos and strings on an album that is primarily led by guitars and electronic tweaking, but that is also part of its allure. He finds himself singing in the vein of Dennis Wilson, who was able to turn the simplest pop songs into awe-inspiring achievements of emotion with his vocal and songwriting talents. A songwriter like that is perfectly justifiable for comparison, as Careful Love shows an artist who is just beginning to recognize his own emotive skills. Williams’ songs have resulted in an album that will be looked back on as the commencement of Williams’ most prominent growth as a songwriter. When he takes the stage at CMJ this year, audiences that saw him five years earlier will likely drop their jaws at this guy’s improvement. He is still showing heaps of potential, but he has durable quality and consistency to back it up now.

RIYL: Phoenix, Ben Kweller, Danielson, David Vandervelde, Modest Mouse, Dennis Wilson

——————————————————————————————

Tim Williams – Ozone Street

——————————————————————————————

Tim Williams – I Want to Die in California

——————————————————————————————

Tim Williams – Right All Along

——————————————————————————————

Official Web Site

MySpace

BUY

The post Tim Williams’ Careful Love appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

Identifying the differences between concise indie-rock and avant-garde developments are more complex than analyzing track’s duration and selection of instrumentation. There are supremely talented musicians in each spectrum, with their method of choice usually being dependent on inspirational or influential precedents. But when we try to compare the Spoon’s and Phoenix’s of the world to a group like Animal Collective, it is more ideal to simply say that two produce indie-rock and the other puts out experimental indie-rock. To define something as experimental is usually subjective after all, though the ambition of certain artists will always remain indisputable. But when we use that term, it tends to designate an artistic technique that is either derivative and manipulated to wildly innovative means or entirely original in that it accomplishes something singularly unique despite some minor miscues (which are to be expected, as they can eventually unfold as a contributory entity). Each spectrum occasionally overlaps with one another, but for the most part the concise rockers and audible scientists remain consistent in separating themselves in the fact that experimentation has little to no commercial allure. I am not referring to the readers of this site or others similar, as they tend to exist outside commercialism’s grasp, but rather the ones that rely on advertisements and incomplete samples to form an opinion surrounding their potential interest in an artistic topic.

As consumers we tend to eliminate the mere idea of trying something more than once if the previous endeavor was not worthwhile, leaving many musicians with an unfair disadvantage in selecting their stylistic output. There is a generalization to group all music that surpasses commercial expectations in the realm of experimentation, which is quite rash considering it is one of the only genres where no prior template is possible to work off of. Sure, you could say Animal Collective borrowed components from The Beach Boys and Paul Simon among others, but there is no exact science in determining whether an artist has utilized the precise same template as a peer. It may be similar to another, but like a fingerprint there is not one exactly like it. Jesus H. Foxx could say that their influences had a role in their sound, but their uniqueness comes in their ability to border between punchy indie-rock and thought-provoking experimentation with seamless precision. The result is one of unparalleled, ceaselessly exciting awe. It sounds familiar and nostalgic while concurrently providing refreshing ideas to pop music that have delighted my ears in addition to the majority of critics that have stumbled across the British septet thus far.

Originating in the summer of 2007, Jesus H. Foxx was primarily the remnants of several fallen bands around the Edinburgh area. The collection of longtime released their debut 7”, Tightt Ideas, in 2008 as a five-piece in before acquiring two more members. They now consist of two drummers, three guitarists, a bassist, and a cornet/glockenspiel player as a result. Self-admitted fetishists of American experimental indie-rock in the vein of Animal Collective and Deerhoof, they appear indebted to groundbreaking innovations equally to accessible, psychedelic-minded pop music. This remains particularly reminiscent of Arthur Russell, whose work was so uniquely ambitious that it would be impossible to hear it prominently within the work of others unless they were sloppily ripping him off. His influence on this group, like the others, is more subtle and only prevalent to those familiar with his work. But like Russell, you can hear the seven members of Jesus H. Foxx aligning their pop ideologies with otherworldly, impressively intricate structures and developments.

Jesus H. Foxx’s new release, Matter, expands upon the impressive territory of Tightt Ideas by diversifying the six tracks on the release. To begin with where it ends, the last two songs on Matter are particularly reminiscent of this aforementioned Russell influence, particularly in the way they both use reverb and unconventionally tuned instrumentation. The self-titled track sees little more than a mumble initially to serve as a vocals, but as the track progresses with the echoes of an acoustic guitar overlapping beautifully over twinkles of keys and spatters of percussion it becomes apparent that Jesus H. Foxx is a group that plans meticulously. The rest of Matter is divided between accessibility and experimentation, with “I’m Half the Man You Were” and “Trying to Be Good” almost stealing the show. Both show a clear Talking Heads influence, in the vocals obviously with the deep oh-so-cool Verlaine tone but more prominently in how the track builds on infectiously concise guitar progressions and pleasurable eruptions deriving from the rhythm section. With female vocals coo-ing behind the snazzy Tom Verlaine-Michael Gira hybrid lead, it makes for a remarkably addictive effort. Jesus H. Foxx takes cue from songwriters like these, who apply strong pop foundations with intricately bizarre influences to create music that is sometimes confusing and a bit overwhelming, but for the most part Jesus H. Foxx are excitedly progressing into an act that we would be wise to keep an eye on.

RIYL: Animal Collective, Talking Heads, Deerhunter, Atlas Sound, Pavement, Arthur Russell

——————————————————————————————

Jesus H. Foxx – I’m Half the Man You Were

——————————————————————————————

Jesus H. Foxx – Trying to Be Good

——————————————————————————————

Jesus H. Foxx – Matter

——————————————————————————————

Official Web Site

MySpace

BUY

The post Jesus H. Foxx Matter appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

We are all part of a certain generation, whether it involves flower children or hair-metal. I was born in the late ’80s, so I found myself in between the phases of hair-metal and the revolution of home gaming consoles. What many of us remember so fondly about our childhoods are the hobbies that captivated us, no matter how embarrassing or odd they were. Along with baseball, playing Super Nintendo was one of mine. It is rare when something captivates parents and children alike, but being able to play complex video games in your home was something I remember amazed both my parents and I when it hit in the early ’90s. Along with the rest of the gaming world, Street Fighter was one of the games I played to death. And although I have not been interested in video games for a few years, I can still recall some specifics that made my 12-year-old mind spin with delight. Maybe this is why M. Bison were so brilliant in choosing their name. As a bunch of 20-somethings, what better way to appeal to your target audience by naming your band after a video game character that will immediately instill nostalgia to the bulk of your potential audience? A looming video game character that aspired to be the world’s next evil dictator, M. Bison was hardly the cuddliest hero from the childhoods of most kids that grew up in the ’90s. But as a band that grew up in the era, who wouldn’t want to take advantage of that?

Songwriters Brian Kinsella and Jeff Grant were friends in high school, but the commencement of M. Bison did not occur until after their college days. Both had recorded demos in the seclusion of their dorms and eventually combined to release their debut EP, Not Bad!, in late 2007 with bassist Chris Jones and drummer Daniel Braithwaite. Below are a few tracks from their debut full-length, set to be dropped in December. As the bubbly infectiousness of “All Things to All People” indicates, M. Bison’s sound is modern and accessible, with guitars empowering a polished fusion of synth-pop and indie-rock that resembles Ozma, Weezer, and other acts specializing in power-pop hooks with backings of synth-pop and indie-rock. In this track, the bridge that joins synths with guitars embodies their motive in eventually readying for utter cohesion, indicated here by the unbiased use of piano. Its catchiness is irrefutable, and should lead to some airplay on college radio as a result. “Elves Sing La La La” is too full-bodied and dexterous for that type of exposure, but in showing the group’s songwriting and performing strengths it is highly impressive. Its tireless, energetic type of spontaneous guitar-led rock reminds me of early Sparks albums like Indiscreet and Kimono My House, a testament to M. Bison’s wide array of influences from the ’60s (The Beatles) to the ’00s (Dr. Dog).

“Going Home Soon” plays to their more sincere side, using little more than an acoustic guitar and percussive hop to establish the feel-good acoustic harmonics of a Jason Mraz or Jack Johnson. It is a pretty elementary pop song but Kinsella and Grant offer some phenomenal vocal harmonics to spice things up a bit. It is probably the weakest of the samples, if only because of a song like “Samurai Showdown” shows that the group can create some majestic works that tower in comparison. This one falls along the lines of The Flaming Lips or Avalanches in their alignment of outdated clips with futuristic takes on electronic music. The latter part of this song shows this with its clips from “Kids Say the Darndest Things!” meshing with a variety of synth progressions, but prior to that it falls with ’60s pop revivalists in the vein of Dr. Dog. The middle of the track uses the flimsiness of the introduction to introduce great expansion in the form of intensified guitars and greater vocal melodies with even greater intensity. The melody is distinctively throwback, but what makes M. Bison so nostalgic is not only their name. How the same group is able to produce “Going Home Soon” and “Samurai Showdown” traces back to the days when the word “eclectic” was not used as a rare complimentary word, but rather a common characteristic of most active artists during pop’s heyday.

——————————————————————————————

M. Bison – All Things to All People

——————————————————————————————

M. Bison – Samurai Showdown

——————————————————————————————

M. Bison – Elves Sing La La La

——————————————————————————————

Official Web Site

MySpace

BUY

The post M. Bison Attack! appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

In an age where audible masculinity is often associated with loud guitars and aggressive screaming, you are really putting yourself out in the open (and taking a few commercial risks) by shaping your vinyl records in the shape of a heart. Sociological standards have changed just as much, if not more, than music in the past seven decades, and to associate hearts with music nowadays seems to either involve Disney’s latest abstaining sensations or overly adorable indie-pop. Thus, to expect something modern-sounding out of Drew Cohen, better known Mayer Hawthorne, might be premature. After all, this is the same guy who asked his label, Stones Throw, if they could press his debut single like Bobby Caldwell did in the early ’80s, when his vinyl was pressed into the shape of a heart. The reason? Simply because the songs dealt with love. Taking a cue from a blue-eyed soul songwriter like Caldwell seems apt for Cohen, even if his his primary influences are actually scattered throughout the ’50s and ’60s. What is amicable among these soul songwriters, though, regardless of whether they originated in the ’50s or ’80s is the prevalence of ardency, even if it takes away a lot of the masculinity that rock ‘n’ roll instills. But for those music fans that are truly fans, this should be irrelevant. In the case of Cohen, the lack of self-concern is a breath of fresh air.

Detroit’s prominence nowadays mainly arises from high crime rates, but anyone without knowledge of the city’s illustrious musical history has a lot of great acts waiting for them (most of which they probably know). In that sense, it is one of the richest cities in the nation. The city has seen plenty of great rock acts – from Iggy & the Stooges to The White Stripes – emerge over the past couple decades, but perhaps Detroit’s most embodied sense of musical history was its role during the explosion of R&B and soul in the ’50s. Motown Records, important for both its role in racial desegregation and massive corporate success, is home to Detroit, as were artists like Smokey Robinson and The Temptations. The role of Detroit in building a foundation for future soul artists was integral. As a result, you can imagine the influence it had on the Detroit kids that were growing up in the ’50s and ’60s. Being surrounded by such a stylistically invigorating phase must have been invigorating and utterly memorable. For the artistically inclined growing up in Detroit, seeing the simultaneous abundance of rock ‘n’ roll, R&B, and soul from the early ’50s toward the late ’70s must have left a unique impression, one that perhaps made their future endeavors considerably more eclectic and nostalgic than their peers.

Growing up just outside of Detroit in Ann Arbor, Cohen’s childhood was surrounded by music. And although he was born too late for Detroit’s legendary era of rock and soul (he grew up in the ’80s), his father was not. A full-time owner of an auto-parts store and part-time musician, Cohen’s father introduced Motown to him at a young age. They would listen to Motown together on his way to work, with the younger Cohen asking his father dozens of questions for each song that came on the radio. The father would gladly respond with all the answers, igniting his son’s passion for music in the process. The ’80s was not an era when Motown was being played continuously on the radio, but we can all thank Mr. Cohen for being a bit behind the times and exposing his son to music that would eventually separate him from his peers in his musical career. It is ironic how something deemed as “outdated” can lead to freshly concocted ideas years afterward, perhaps showing that influences are never really outdated at all. Cohen’s father still unsurprisingly plays in a band back in Detroit, while he has been turning heads with his Mayer Hawthorne project. Originally started for pure fun, playing soul favorites for family and friends evolved into something more for Cohen. Considering Cohen had spent most of his time prior working as a DJ for underground hip-hop group Now On, some could say that his foray into soul music was like discovering a latent talent for the first time.

A fan of everything from hip-hop to grunge, Cohen’s interpretation of neo-soul on his debut A Strange Arrangement borrows both modernistic and retro components of pop and Motown to establish a release that separates itself from contemporaries like Raphael Saadiq and Lee Fields. The self-titled track is one of the album’s most stunning, taking the signature layers of Motown orchestration to produce a smooth and heavily seductive mixture of brass, piano, and guitars incorporated into a stunning rhythm section. The rhythm sounds casual and slowly paced, but the way it leads and develops the track’s peaks under Cohen’s absolutely stunning vocals is unforgettable. The main hook, signaled by the abrupt descending of bass notes, recalls The Stylistics and other Philly soul groups that treated listeners with smooth subtleties and lavish orchestration. “But I can’t stand by while you break my heart in two,” he laments during the hook, solidifying the timeless and old-fashioned gripes of unrequited love in ways so sincere that today’s youth is hardly familiar with it. This track is extremely reminiscent of the past, but many others on the album do assume a more contemporary standing.

“Just Ain’t Gonna Work Out” was the first song completed for the album and the one that prompted Stones Throw to commission Cohen for a full album. This one applies more swiftness and gradual guitar work, with the falsetto and backing vocals being more up-to-date with modern blue-eyed soul artists like Jamie Lidell. Meanwhile, “Maybe So, Maybe No” utilizes some crisp brass incorporated with funk (à la Matthew Herbert) to showcase some very intelligent songwriting. “Green Eyed Love” is quite fascinating for its hazy keyboard lead and updated production, sounding more along the lines of a stripped-down Gnarls Barkley than a ’60s soul artist. It always works though regardless of contemporary standing, and that in itself justifiably shows why A Strange Arrangement is one of the most enjoyably accessible debuts of the year.

——————————————————————————————

Mayer Hawthorne – A Strange Arrangement

——————————————————————————————

Mayer Hawthorne – Just Ain’t Gonna Work Out

——————————————————————————————

Mayer Hawthorne – Green Eyed Love

——————————————————————————————

Stones Throw Records

MySpace

BUY

The post A Strange Arrangement With Mayer Hawthorne appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

Even if it brings necessary experience and helpful recognition, having a lengthy career also ignites some associations that can be highly detrimental to an artist’s frame of mind. Few would prefer anonymity to prominence, but even without the paparazzi there are some consequences to musical fame that prompt some to remain low-key. Though once one accomplishes an objective triumph, it is realized that it is more difficult to run from fame than accomplish it. Grant-Lee Phillips has always been an artist on the verge of both territories. His impressive array of work has stretched over 20 years, with a new project encompassing the three decades of his career. With each one, he has found success that is both unique and durable, at least in a relative sense. The borderline between songwriting genius and instantaneous fame is too small to tread, but Phillips has somehow sat here comfortably throughout his entire career. He is accustomed to critical acclaim and large audiences, but knowing that it is not the type of street-stopping fame that often disrupts artistic legends is perhaps one of the secrets to Phillips’ enduring success. Without the pressures of fame attempting to derail an authentic style or ideology, Phillips has the option of limiting his sources of constructive external knowledge to one of the most reliable and consistent: his own fan base.

If you were one of the few that heard Shiva Burlesque’s 1987 self-titled debut upon its initial release, there is a good chance that you have followed Phillips’ career up to now. That is hard to say for a lot of artists too, as deteriorating with age has occurred so abundantly that we are led to assume it is normative among artists of all kinds. Phillips is the rare breed of songwriter; his ideological talents (songwriting and stylistic intentions) are as consistent as his boastfully powerful voice and stellar sense of production. For an artist to retain any of these throughout a 25-year period is impressive, but for Phillips to maintain all of them while undergoing the transitioning of different eras and stylistic norms serves as indication of his gifted musical intellect. With that in mind, it is hard to believe his first artistic priorities were in film. Before he formed Shiva Burlesque with Jeff Clark, he was a film student attempting to sort out his life in LA. But upon re-acquainting with Clark – a fellow Stockton, California native – Phillips began to view music as his calling again, with he and Clark finding a mutual adoration of local L.A. underground college-rock groups like Rain Parade, Dream Syndicate, and other members of the “Paisley Underground” to be their biggest inspirations.

The “Paisley Underground”, a broad term used to describe a collection of alt-rock groups in ’80s Los Angeles, showed its influence on Phillips early. This term encompassed artists that incorporated psychedelic production into folk-rock and/or power-pop, eventually forming a tight-knit community in the L.A. area due to its aligning sound. The Bangles arguably had the most mainstream success out of this niche. A guitarist since high school, the “Paisley Underground” wave hit Phillips hard and attributed to the sound of Shiva Burlesque’s debut and its 1990 follow-up, Mercury Blues. Despite glowing reviews and a devoted California audience, Shiva Burlesque parted ways shortly after that to pave the way for Phillips’ next project. Great songwriting and performances could simply not hide the fact that their sound was somewhat outdated (at least in regard to L.A.’s music scene in the late ’80s). Along with the drummer and bassist of Shiva Burlesque, Phillips formed Grant Lee Buffalo to begin the ’90s. This project saw four fantastic albums be released from 1993’s Fuzzy to 1998’s Jubilee, all of which drew praise for a matured sound that was more contemporary in its guitar-based interpretation of alternative and folk-rock. Think of them in the vein of other ’90s landmarks like Pearl Jam or Cracker, both of which they opened for at some point, but with more folk and rootsy rock ‘n’ roll.

Grant Lee Buffalo disbanded in 1999 due to growing frustrations over lack of recognition. They certainly had a reason to gripe; practically all publications lauded their releases and other groups openly shared their adoration of Grant Lee Buffalo, but they could never attain even a glisten of commercial success. Frustrated but unfazed, Phillips began his solo work at the beginning of the millennium and has not looked back. Similarly to his preceding efforts, his four solo albums thus far has seen a combined fusion of glowing press and mediocre sales. As mature as Phillips is though, he must understand that the bulk of society is neither educated nor patient enough to recognize quality art. His hooks are evolutionary and often require attentive listening, and his attire does not contain glitter or giant sunglasses. Therefore, expecting fame is unrealistic, but to handle an undeserved lack of recognition the graceful way Phillips has is one of the many reasons why he is still going strong. Very strong actually. His fifth solo album, Little Moon, is one of the best releases of his career, which is saying a lot since he has never released a lackluster one out of the dozen or so. It is still distinctively Grant-Lee Phillips at play, but with a versatility that is more abundant among artists like Ryan Adams (as a track like “Nightbirds” can explain) or Beck.

Rolling Stone hailed Shiva Burlesque’s debut with gushing praise over 20 years ago, which was a decade or so before they called Phillips one of the greatest active male vocalists. It simply attests to his durability and how those able to recognize quality are aware of Phillips’ presence. Like Paul Weller, Phillips’ aggressiveness and fury within his work has subsided a bit with age. His songwriting power never lacks though. A track like “Little Moon” would sound uncharacteristic several years ago with its lush keys and plucked acoustics, but a charming piano-pop ballad like this one shows that it is Phillips’ by the songwriting alone. “It all starts with a seed so small for a song, little flower,” he sings, alternating his voice to a ghostly high-pitch before a series of dramatic violins emerge as the bridge. It seems to describe the evolution of personalities among individuals, with character study being a favorite theme among Phillips’ work (particularly in the vein of artistic struggles, like creating an album or song). In his case, he has expanded to styles that complement his songwriting beautifully. He returns to alt-rock theatrics on “Strangest Thing”, which bristles with energy in its swirling keys and concise guitar licks. This is also one of the most radio-friendly tracks of his career, and if anything serves as a potential commercial break-out for Phillips this would be it. This album should do that on its own though. This is such a fantastic work that I hope it exposes Phillips for what he is: one of the best songwriters of the past three decades. Little Moon is simply another testament to that.

——————————————————————————————

Grant-Lee Phillips – Strangest Thing

——————————————————————————————

Grant-Lee Phillips – Little Moon

——————————————————————————————

Grant-Lee Phillips – Nightbirds

——————————————————————————————

Official Web Site

MySpace

BUY

The post Grant-Lee Phillips Plays to a Little Moon appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

Any music fan can recognize the importance of collaboration in a finished product, regardless of whether they have the liner notes in front of them or not. Even in circumstances where one lead songwriter is in consummate control, there is always inspiration that derives from a willingness to accept others’ ideas as helpful intuition. Of course there have been legendary artists that have been stubborn as all hell, but most of them are still willing to admit that some influences and individuals had a prominent role in shaping memorable material. But what often goes unsuspected is the non-musical influence some of these people have, sometimes resulting in an indirect influence on the music itself. The importance of a loving family is inarguable, and to have certain artistic individuals surrounding you with no jealous intent or sense of corruption almost certainly proves beneficial. This is rare to be seen though, especially with many younger artists possessing the ideology that if they create something, the influence(s) are merely an afterthought. It also pertains to the indescribable enigma of chemistry, something that any great band can attest to having at some point in their career (for better or worse). To have a familial presence of fellow artists surrounding your ideas is a supportive way can only be beneficial, as long as all parties are genuine in their intent to aid one another in the formation and development of innovative ideas. And sometimes, it can turn into a band-like collaboration automatically as a result.

Le Loup is comprised of members that echo the indie-rock, DIY stereotype. They are all visibly talented musicians that aspire for great things in the realm of music, only delayed by lack of recognition and a pesky day job that requires them to sort through databases and PDF files. The allure of the stage life is much brighter, but we all have to pay for the groceries. Like any group, they have all been through their series of personal hardships and artistic ruts, but not like many others they are able to channel the negative energy into a creative flow that appears dependent on their incredible potential to work together. Between his job as a paralegal, songwriter Sam Simkoff has been honing has craft as a songwriter for years now. He gave birth to Le Loup in his bedroom and has steadily shared the inception with friends, most of them based out of the DC and Maryland area. He wrote songs throughout college and began moving around a bit after graduation, looking for ideas both as a songwriter and recent graduate with a sketchy job market looming. All throughout that time, he kept in touch with one of his best friends, Christian Ervin, and consistent sent him material in hopes of finding a mutual idea that exhibited the innovation and melodic precision they are both capable of. An electronic whiz, Ervin developed Simkoff’s initial songs into more expansive works that contained a more comprehensive scope of production while retaining Simkoff’s uniquely captivating songcraft. Simkoff sent the final product to Hardly Art, Sub Pop’s “sister label”, and they were signed shortly thereafter.

Le Loup’s 2007 debut, the ridiculously titled but underrated The Throne of the Third Heaven of the Nations’ Millennium General Assembly, was written primarily by Simkoff. Ervin did contribute to a few tracks, but it was mainly a DIY bedroom effort by Simkoff that relied heavily on banjos, synths, and other types of electronic experimentation. It received generally positive reviews but failed to reach the radar of most, mainly due to the fact that it was consistently of high quality but had no single that could achieve substantial radio-play. It would occasionally sound like experimental noise and then transform into a melodic pop song, suggesting somewhat of an indecisive technique despite the highly evident talents of both Simkoff and Ervin. Between then and now, Simkoff worked as a paralegal during the day and on his music at night, aiming toward a more expansive sound that was able to push the boundaries of contemporary innovation while showing off a more naturally spontaneous tone. The triumphs and errors of Le Loup’s debut made Simkoff realize that combining his talents with those of trusted friends could result in something extraordinary, and when you have friends that are as selfless and musically skilled as Simkoff’s then you should consider yourself fortunate. Their great chemistry is exhibited by the method of madness involved in creating their new album, Family. Appropriately enough, the band alternated between a remote cabin and basement, keeping Simkoff’s DIY methods in mind without relying on the singular ideas that make something a solo effort, rather than a collective one.

Family, as the name may suggest, was recorded in close-knit circumstances for a reason. That the five members retreated to a cable-less, internet-less, and social-less cabin in remote North Carolina was not just for fun; they wanted to create the most organic and authentic release they possibly could. The results certainly show, as Le Loup has seamlessly expanded their style from inconsistent experimental electronics to a more organic, satisfying result that can still be called experimental but now with a sense of diversity and musicianship that was largely missing on the debut. A song like “Grow” certainly shows why they have been bringing up so many Animal Collective comparisons lately, as it flaunts Simkoff’s breezy vocals over heavily involved percussion and backing vocals inspired by Afro-pop. There is still an electronic element here, but seeing actual percussion (instead of drum machines) and guitars (instead of samples) has done wonders for a project that just needed the extra collaborative push to put it in the spotlight. “Beach Town” has been making its way around the blogosphere for good reason; Simkoff grows from a whisper to an emotive whimper over the sound of seagulls, hectic percussion, and bubbling synth pad. The latter begins to resemble a sitar during its latter movements, again reflecting the apparent world music influence that Le Loup possesses. At times, songs resemble an Asian tribal chant like in “Saddle Mountains”. Others, especially “Beach Town”, invoke rare detailing to modern psychedelic pop in which world music and western pop collide to create majestic pieces of beauty. Family is full of tracks like these. Sure, experience helped in making this a great achievement and great improvement upon Le Loup’s debut, but one must not neglect the familial atmosphere surrounding this album. The stunning detail and stylistic evolution on Family certainly wear such chemistry well.

——————————————————————————————

Le Loup – Beach Town

——————————————————————————————

Le Loup – Grow

Le Loup – Saddle Mountains

***TRACKS REMOVED UPON THE REQUEST OF HARDLY ART***

——————————————————————————————

Official Web Site

MySpace

BUY

The post Le Loup’s Family Time appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

Listening or creating music can easily be labeled as a hobby, as it most commonly is. But for many musicians, its incorporation into one’s lifestyle makes it much more than that. When LA-based songwriter Adam Marsland compares creating an album to raising children, most parents would probably laugh at the comparison. An album has no real human emotions or dire consequences in case of neglect, right? While it would indeed be ridiculous to value art more than a human life, the similarities between the upbringing of both is amusingly striking. “You’re responsible for them,” Marsland also says of albums. “Some grow up to be mechanics and you don’t have to worry about them. Others are special, and you have to send them to medical school.” Any music fan will notice that a classic album has a certain amount of dedication involved to it, something that – alongside talent – is one of the only necessities in creating a masterpiece. But talent and true dedication is as rare as anything when they coexist, a fact that becomes heavily prevalent when occurring despite its rare showing. As a veteran songwriter and producer, Marsland is certainly aware of this. With that in mind, he must have also been aware of the implications involved in creating a double-album. In his analogy, it might be comparable to raising twins with stark personalities; the parent attempts to manage all occurrences and themes while remaining equal and attentive to the surplus of material at hand. It is arduous to be sure, but raising two gems has to be more rewarding than one, right?

The difficulties in creating a double-album is apparent for even a veteran like Marsland, who is accustomed to releasing consistent material since his emergence in the early ’90s with a few alt-rock groups, notably Cockeyed Ghost. He has been releasing solo albums since 2002’s 232 Days on the Road. But to create a double-album is a new venture altogether, even for a songwriter that has been around for nearly two decades. To fuse cohesion with quality songwriting throughout two discs and 23 songs is no small feat, and to gather the proper material for a songwriter accustomed to releasing average-length albums must mean that his time spent off the stage and out of the studio must have had an effect as well. Unfortunately, finding inspiration through demise is more common than discovering it through triumph. Such was the case with Marsland and his new album, Go West. Although the album often depicts moving on and personal triumph in a prominent light through some infectious pop songwriting, Marsland’s personal life was in a bit of chaos during the recording of the album. In addition to the untimely death of his brother, Marsland’s house was broken into and most of his recording supplies were stolen. A Telecaster, synthesizer, and computer were among the things stolen, and it took Marsland some time to recuperate. But as Go West shows, sometimes our deepest lows can lead us to our biggest triumphs.

The death of a sibling and a robbery could be enough in one year to bring most people down to their knees, but Marsland has kept chugging on. There is little to suggest that these two unfortunate events, in addition an illness that has effected his hearing for several years, is going to stop him now. His best years appear to be ahead of him, especially since he just released his most accomplished album, Go West this year. The album’s theme is immediately apparent from the dramatic croons of the opening “Standing in Chicago”, the city which he clarifies as “the midpoint between east and west”. He depicts characters at a crossroads, about to develop their life based on their own decisions about how to tackle their obstacles and control their strengths. It can get gritty and bleak, but it is always genuine and realistic. “It’s roughly about being a young adult gradually finding out life isn’t what you thought it was and neither are you,” he says. Self-discovery is a prominent theme throughout the album, but its involvement is more interesting than that. Marsland finds that the simultaneous desire for security and freedom leads to the heightened difficulty of moral choices. When that is realized and digested, the evolution into an adult begins and ends. This is what Go West tells us, both in its title and encompassing songs. For such a deep and universal message, it gets it across extraordinarily.

For any longtime fan of Marsland, Go West should be one of their favorite albums of the year. The reason for this is the eclectic talent displayed throughout the album, as Marsland’s career has seen him tackling everything from typical alt-rock to shimmering electro-pop. As a result, Go West almost plays like a greatest hits album due to its diversity and consistent quality, two necessities in creating a successful double-album. It is almost ironic since he released a greatest-hits collection last year, Daylight Kissing Night. This is why Go West is such a big accomplishment; these are all new tracks that could have easily fit on his greatest hits. Songs like “Learning the Ropes” concoct a style of piano-led pop that recalls that likes of Squeeze or Elton John, all while using Marsland’s soulful croon to bring the effort to R&B territory. With that in mind, listening to the preceding track, “I Don’t Wanna Dance With You”, finds Marsland in a completely separate zone. As the title may suggest, get ready for the synth-bass and the mock-worthy falsetto, all incorporated with the best of intentions to throw some genuine dance infectiousness within the midst of power-poppers and alt-rockers. Some alt-rock tracks, like “Burn Down the World” and “Stranger on the Town”, seem reminiscent of Marsland’s ’90s material with Cockeyed Ghost, but other efforts like “Learning the Ropes” and the fantastic “Standing in Chicago” are fresh and entirely innovative. What really makes Go West a great album is how it basically encompasses four different decades of music, even though Marsland has been around for barely over one. But between the infectious electro, fresh power-pop, ’70s piano ditties, and thumping alternative, there is plenty on Go West for everyone.

——————————————————————————————

Adam Marsland – Standing in Chicago

——————————————————————————————

Adam Marsland – Learning the Ropes

——————————————————————————————

Adam Marsland – I Don’t Wanna Dance With You

——————————————————————————————

Official Web Site

MySpace

BUY

The post Adam Marsland Goes West appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.

An artist who sports a scruffy beard, sings about “indie queens” and kings, and names their album after a Kurt Vonnegut quote is bound to create a memorable first impression. It may sound like the definitive stereotype for all these independent artists I write about, so smug with their tastes and beliefs that their own art sometimes ends up reeking of old influences and re-hashed ideas. The problem is, these flaws tend to appear with time and not in instantaneous fashion. I sometimes go back and listen to groups I wrote about two or three years ago. Some I admired for their songcraft, others for their style or innovation. But there was never a case in which a new artist achieved perfection, even if they came painstakingly close to it. Seeing a likable band that is new today in the future could either be devastating or triumphant. One of the most rewarding things about writing for this site is seeing how bands I featured in the past grow, remain the same, or disintegrate all together after their first or second release. The growers are receptive to change in both a minor and dramatic sense, while the stabilizers appear content with consistency in artistic development, financial income, and the fluctuation of their fan base. Both can falter at any moment, but the risks are obviously higher for those not fearful of change. For them, their biggest enemy is the two-sided realm of criticism.

When artists pursue a certain lyrical or musical style that is unconventional, there opens an opportunity for outspoken criticism to prevent an artist from evolving into a transitional songwriter, rather than one who is satisfied with placidity and not artistic stimulation. Dan Mangan has always been a talented and genuine storyteller, and to coexist in an industry where visuals and exploitation reign in the mainstream must be difficult. The pressure must mount, but Mangan has always remained unfazed. On top of that, the 26-year-old sings about topics that are both emotionally sensitive and culturally contemporary, ranging from the loss of cell phone service in “Robots” to the loss of a loved one in the excellent “Fair Verona”. He criticizes certain components of society, like the tendency of tasteless elitists to push their tastes upon others in “The Indie Queens Are Waiting”, but applauds others, like the wisdom that love can offer in “You Silly Girl” or that old stories can offer in “Basket”. Through it all he maintains the utmost focus and relevance to his own sound, his raggedly enthralling voice being complemented beautifully by a range of twinkling keys, hushed acoustic guitars, lush pianos, and accompanying harmonicas.

Mangan’s lyrical delivery is influenced by one of his favorite writers, the late Kurt Vonnegut. Like Vonnegut, he relays life’s most utmost complexities into a literary form that is simple to grasp. It hardly takes the elusiveness out of the product though, actually adding more to its enigma because of the clever analogies or playful visuals. Mangan’s sophomore album, Nice, Nice, Very Nice, borrows a line from Vonnegut’s Cat’s Cradle for its title. “Oh, a sleeping drunkard up in Central Park, and a lion-hunter in the jungle dark,” the quote goes. “And a Chinese dentist, and a British queen – all fit together in the same machine.” It is an apt reference and allusion, especially in Mangan’s case. “Nice, nice, very nice,” it concludes, “So many different people in the same device.” As Vonnegut channeled the unified mechanisms of society into a simple analogy, Mangan moves to our modern world in combining his unique melodic ability with a lyrical delivery that showcases his adoration for literary devices. He tackles cell phone reception and the harsh complexities of reality, all on one album that is diverse enough both lyrically and melodically to resonate with most social demographics that are willing to listen.

Nice, Nice, Very Nice is yet another fantastic folk release from Canada, proving Mangan to be a songwriter with durability and prevalent ability. Despite it being the antithesis of commercial success, his ambitious lyrical approach and tendency to avoid generic pitfalls shows that he will certainly be one to look out for in the coming decade. “Robots” sports a very nice acoustical arrangement and passionate vocal display under snazzy brass accompaniments and active percussion. “And I spent half of my life in the customer service line,” Mangan sings, “flaws in the design, a sign of the times.” Society’s obsession with technological automation has been touched upon before, but this is a clever and worthwhile song nonetheless thanks to its refreshing approach. Those looking for a deeper and more artistically invigorating song should turn to “Fair Verona”, one of my favorites on the album. Listening to both “Robots” and “Fair Verona” should provide listeners with a good representation of Mangan, as his strength as a diversified songwriter is one that should certainly be valued.

With occasional bleeps of synth and sporadic chimes of electric guitar serving as the only consistent instrumentation over the steady rhythm section, this song is built for Mangan’s voice and storytelling ability to take over. The music sways accordingly to the romanticized tale, one of how the phrase “carpe diem” needs to be valued more in relationships. Brass is the first to become a truly established instrument, only to fade again before lush strings take over their place. Each occurs during a solemn and strikingly appropriate moment for their entry, with Mangan introducing fun alterations of the verses and chorus along the way. “Pine for Cedars” and “Set the Sails” close out the album with a transcendental tone, alluding to nature as the most harmless source of moral salvation. The amount of content on the album cannot be defined by length, as Mangan packs a punch from beginning to end by exposing the world’s intricacies in the only way we can understand them. He delivers them in the simplest and most apt way possible.

——————————————————————————————

Dan Mangan – Robots

——————————————————————————————

Dan Mangan – Fair Verona

——————————————————————————————

Dan Mangan – Pine for Cedars

——————————————————————————————

Official Site

MySpace

BUY

The post Dan Mangan Recalls the Classics appeared first on Obscure Sound: Indie Music Blog.