Monthly Archives: December 2016

In the rearview is 2016—and we won’t really miss it. We’re counting down the new releases you shouldn’t have missed; the platters that easily got us through it. Here’s the first installation of our favorites spun.

10. A Tribe Called Quest, We got it from Here…Thank You 4 Your service (Epic) + Kristin Hersh, Wyatt at the Coyote Palace (Omnibus) Writing about records can be a tug of war between the excitement of expectation and emotional detachment; one wishes to avoid foaming at the mouth like a raving fanboy and conversely, emanating the disinterest of a robot. The leadup to the release of We got it from Here was accompanied with hopes of a great album tamped down by the knowledge that most comebacks bring disappointment. Inside: hopes for an odds-defying success. Outside: the demeanor of a drone.

A Tribe Called Quest pulled it off with flying colors, and with a high number of guest spots, a tactic that’s always cause for nervousness. But instead of making up for a lack of substance, the contributions underscore Tribe’s sheer impact over the years, with none of the visitors impeding the smooth eclecticism of the record’s progress; the best are Andre 3000 and Kendrick Lamar. Plus, Tribe packs a ton of engaging sonics and sturdy word flow into a solid and digestible hour, so there’s no worries in terms of content. All this and standout “Lost Somebody” samples Can’s “Halleluhwah.” Jeepers.

Wyatt at the Coyote Palace isn’t a comeback album, but akin to We got it from Here it offers an artistic vision having emerged from the 1980s that perseveres in the present day; that both albums are completely disinterested in hopping on any nostalgia trains is a major component in their triumphs. Throwing Muses has been fitfully active over the years, but Wyatt is a deeply personal collection, recorded entirely by Hersh and accompanied with a book of her (very good) writing. The whole fully embraces its solo nature.

Likewise, it turns its 82-minute running time into a major trait. If Tribe’s return benefits from a relative measure of conciseness, Wyatt gains strength from what in lesser hands would be unwieldiness or sprawl, with the results reminiscent of catching up with an old friend who’s achieved and endured much in their absence. Said friend has a whole lot to share, and just happens to write, sing, and play guitar like a champ.

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I’ve said it before, goddamn it, and I’ll say it again: The Felice Brothers are the best folk and country rock group to come our way since The Band. Strong words, I know; but I’ve seen them live on numerous occasions and listened to their LPs more times than I can count, and I’ve come to the conclusion there’s something in the drinking water of those Catskill Mountains both they and The Band called home that is pure glory.

And I’m happy to report that Life in the Dark is the Felice Brothers at the top of their game, veering from hillbilly tunes to murder ballads to the best nonsense tunes to come our way since Dylan and The Band recorded The Basement Tapes in that famous pink house in West Saugerties, New York. Life in the Dark will break your heart, it will send you reeling, and it will make you smile at the sheer absurdity of life, and an album, no album, can do you any better than that.

The Felice Brothers are Ian Felice on guitar and lead vocals, brother James Felice on accordion, keyboards, and vocals, Greg Farley on fiddle, and Josh Rawson on bass, and they recorded Life in the Dark in a garage on a farm in the lovely Hudson Valley. The results speak for themselves; you’ll come away, I kid you not, from listening to Life in the Dark, with its rich musical textures and Ian Felice’s distinctive voice and always surprisingly lovely lyrics, with a new appreciation for the joys and sadness, to say nothing of the imponderable mystery, of this life.

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You should be ashamed of yourself. Here the most important date on my holy calendar has come and gone, and you didn’t buy me a single gift. I’m talking about the anniversary of Altamont, of course, the benighted free concert held on December 6, 1969 at the Altamont Speedway in northern California. Four people died, one poor fellow at the hands of the Hells Angels, who were hired to provide security. The Angels, anger fueled in part by the $500 in beer they received as payment for their services, also rendered Jefferson Airplane vocalist Marty Balin unconscious with a blow to the head, which is why the anniversary of Altamont is also known to strict religious observers such as myself as “Punch Marty Balin in the Mouth Day.”

Altamont is perhaps rock’s most significant day because it, along with the Manson Family killings, put paid to the Age of Aquarius. It was the end of the innocence, to quote that dick from the Eagles, the high water mark of peace, love, and understanding, and on that dark day the glorious lysergic wave of good vibes and universal brotherhood broke and receded forever, as Hunter S. Thompson so astutely notes in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.

I write all of this because the Jefferson Airplane was Thee Official Band of the LSD era. “White Rabbit” and “Somebody to Love” were as much countercultural signifiers as they were songs, as was “Crown of Creation,” as in “you are the.” But the whole scene went south, first with the numerous drug casualties of Haight-Ashbury, then with Charles Manson’s bloody murder spree and the disaster at Altamont, about which Grace Slick noted, “The vibes were bad. Something was very peculiar, not particularly bad, just real peculiar. It was that kind of hazy, abrasive and unsure day. I had expected the loving vibes of Woodstock but that wasn’t coming at me. This was a whole different thing.”

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The sheer number of records put out in a calendar year can be positively daunting, but it’s also an energizing reality; while diving into the decision-making below we discovered a half-dozen items that if heard earlier could’ve easily made this list. Put another way, these picks aren’t engraved on stone tablets, they’re just our current favorites from a sea of reissued and archival material made available across 2016. Part one is here.

5. V/A, Subnormal Girls – DIY/Post Punk Vols. 1 & 2 (Waiting Room) + Pylon, Live (Chunklet) The Subnormal LPs span 1979-’84 and are their Berlin-based label’s first releases; the homeland is certainly represented across the entirety, but the first side of Vol. 1 spreads the geography in impressive fashion, covering the USA (IUD), the UK (The Petticoats), France (Zona), Germany (Mannschreck), Italy (Jo Squillo Electrix), Japan (Boys Boys), and Australia (Toxic Shock).

Naturally, Waiting Room’s gender focus is still quite welcome (the albums are a nice match with 2016’s contempo-focused comp Typical Girls on Arizona’s Emotional Response label), but they also emphasize post-punk as a truly global development rather than UK-centric affair. Additionally, while a few of the inclusions do hold posthumous reputations (The Petticoats, X Mal Deutschland, Rosa Yemen), most of this stuff will be unknown to all but the most voracious of post-punk addicts, reminding me a bit of Chuck Warner’s old Messthetics CDR series (but with a global focus).

Live has only grown in my esteem as 2016’s calendar pages have hit the trashcan, with its contents (taped in December ’83 at the Mad Hatter club for an aborted PBS music program) helping to recalibrate post-punk geography more than a little, though admittedly Pylon has long been tagged as one of the USA’s few legitimately post-punk units. It’s still appropriate to group them into the early college rock brigade alongside Athens, GA mates R.E.M. (who covered Pylon’s “Crazy”) and TVD Best Reissues of 2016 counterparts Game Theory and The Feelies, but the arty dance-rock and the vocals of Vanessa Briscoe-Hay underscore their kinship with such units as Delta 5, Kleenex / LiLiPUT, and Au Pairs.

Most of the acts on Subnormal Girls burned brief but bright as part of a grand musical transition, but Live documents one of the major units of the 1980s.

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PHOTOS: SHANTEL MITCHELL | She’s a dynamo, she is. Whether she’s gracing your turntable at home or she’s live on stage, the multifaceted and multitalented Grace Potter is simply electric, as we’ve captured quite often over the years.

The electricity follows her in person too. Positively beaming upon her arrival at Washington, DC’s Som Records, Grace joined us for a record rummage between 2 back to back dates at the Capitol’s venerable 9:30 Club. Rolling up her sleeves and raring to go with nary a prompt from us, it was all about the vinyl.

So, onward—we’re record shopping with Grace Potter at DC’s Som Records.

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PHOTO: SEAN HANSEN | “‘Whoa’ sparked from the memory of sledding in northern New Hampshire. The biting cold and the purest love of a red-faced girl with frozen snot on her philtrum.”

“We went to Iceland to unearth that same purity, searching for true beauty. We blasted through the countryside in a flimsy hire car. From city to sea, geyser to glacier. Every moment was mindblowing. The bright green and black lava fields, the tempestuous sea at Vik, racing bikes down the streets of Reykjavik, jumping in the ocean at Jökulsárlón, emerging from a pitch-black cavern into a field filled with ponies.

Adventures are strange beasts. If they’re true-hearted, then there’s no time for sentience. Second guesses, sarcasm, and social media all vanish with the mist in the midst of a proper quest.” —Matt Pond

Fully titled “Whoa (Thirteen and Sledding With Kerry in Northern New Hampshire),” the track on matt pond PA’s newest album is a jaunty celebration with a video to match.

An album inspired by his upbringing in snowy New Hampshire, aptly named Winter Lives, contains songs fit to listen to curled up by the fire as well as those for romping through the snow. “Whoa” is a song for the latter—and the video will have you packing your bags for Iceland where it was filmed. The clip features Matt Pond and his right-hand man Chris Hansen exploring lavish landscapes and quirky cities, with cinematography that makes the music video feel like a 4-minute Icelandic documentary.

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The Vinyl Guide is a weekly podcast for fans and collectors of vinyl records. Each week is an audio-documentary on your favourite records, often including interviews with band members and people who were part of the project.

It’s hosted by Nate Goyer, a self-described vinyl maniac who enjoys listening to records and sharing the stories behind them. Despite his Yankee accent, Nate lives in Sydney, Australia with his wife, 2 kids, and about 1,500 records. (But only about 1,000 of them his wife knows about.)

The Vinyl Guide takes records one by one, telling the tale of how they came to be, why the work is important, and then shares how collectors can tell one pressing from another. Learn more at the TheVinylGuide.com or simply subscribe via iTunes or RSS feed.

Dave Morell has a fascinating tale about meeting John Lennon, trading records with him, and taking custody of Lennon’s very own Beatles “butcher cover.” Clearly the best record collecting story ever. PLUS we have a special episode coming up featuring new recordings from the night of Lennon’s death—listen for more details.

The sheer number of records put out in a calendar year can be positively daunting, but it’s also an energizing reality; while diving into the decision-making below we discovered a half-dozen items that if heard earlier could’ve easily made this list. Put another way, these picks aren’t engraved on stone tablets, they’re just our current favorites from a sea of reissued and archival material made available across 2016.

10. Dow Jones & the Industrials, Can’t Stand the Midwest 1979-1981 (Family Vineyard) + MX-80 Sound, Out of the Tunnel and Crowd Control (Ship to Shore PhonoCo.) The middle of the USA was once (and sometimes still is) belittled as nowheresville, and to play punk rock in the region was once considered folly at best and potentially dangerous to boot.

But hey, it’s not where you’re living, it’s where you’re at, you dig? Of course you do. Dow Jones & the Industrials may have hailed from West Lafayette Indiana, but during their existence they inhabited a highly appealing zone flush with Devo-esque jerking to-and-fro, raw keyboard-synth infusions and horn honk, crunchy guitar flailing, art-funk spasms, and vocals covering the three A’s: alienation, anger, and anguish. Ultimately, they pulled it off like regional champs and Family Vineyard collects it all in a 2LP + DVD set that’s indispensable for any student of punk history.

Some groups just had to pull up roots and plant themselves someplace else, however; that’s the case with MX-80 Sound, a gang of Hoosiers who managed to get an album out via Island Records (’77’s Hard Attack) before the major label’s relationship with rock’s new thing took a severe nosedive. While they certainly fit in with the scene, tagging MX-80 as punk isn’t exactly accurate; in a nutshell, they played an aggressive form of art-rock so powerful it was occasionally compared to heavy metal.

After migrating to San Francisco, they ended up on Ralph Records, and the above two classics of precision racket were the result. Bassist Dale Sophiea and drummer Dave Mahoney are a constantly expressive rhythm team while vocalist-guitarist-saxophonist Rich Stim delivers the art-edge and the lead guitar of Bruce Anderson tears it the fuck up for the punk crowd while being technically proficient enough to win over progsters. Folks who devour the fringe of punk’s first wave, namely Ubu, Suicide, Chrome, Debris, and those Residents, will cozy right up to these well-deserved reissues.

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America’s independent streak started in the city of Boston. From the moment the “shot heard round the world” rang out to the day someone said, “Not everyone can have MTV? Fine! We’ll make our own MTV!” Boston has embraced its contrarians. 

New York may get all the glory, but Peter Wolf is one of those contrarians that made Boston his own. He found his way to his adopted city as a young art student from the Bronx in the late ’60s, becoming one of Boston’s favorite sons—pretty impressive, when one considers how Boston generally feels about people from the Bronx.

In the midst of studying painting at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, Wolf stumbled onto a chance to sing in a blues band, and found his love (and deep knowledge) of music transformed into a new passion: performance. That passion transformed again into a gig as a DJ for Boston’s legendary WBCN, and again still when he founded and fronted the J. Geils Band with a cadre of fellow rock and roll fanatics.

Wolf struck out as a solo artist in 1984, near the height of J. Geils Band fame, and he hasn’t looked back. Released just last month, A Cure For Loneliness is Wolf’s eighth solo album. It’s a rootsy reflection on his musical past that is reverent without lingering too long.

“Change is constant,” Wolf says, “but it’s not necessarily negative, so you just have to keep rolling on.” The twelve new tracks have been a long time coming, and bring together rock and roll, soul, blues, and even honky-tonk to tell tales of survival and reflection that are both lighthearted and heartfelt. It’s pure Peter. 

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