See if you can wrap your brain
around this one. The Meek Men are a
Swedish songwriting duo (Jonas Lundberg, Kenneth Holmstrong) who sing in
English and orchestrate a band of other Swedish musicians who back them.
Lundberg is also a therapist and drama teacher. Holmstrom once toured with
legendary Detroit rocker Sixto Rodriguez (Searching
for Sugarman), but the duo's music is mostly soft rock with echoes of bluegrass,
Irish music, country, and acid folk. The lyrics are poetic and their album Dumdedum
is centered on the idea–in their words–that "the difference
between a good life and a good lie is a single letter." Got that? You
should, because even on the rare occasion in which this album doesn't work
musically, the lyrics are more literate than most of what comes from native
English speakers. The vocals remind me of a smoother version of
Taylor Goldsmith (Dawes), but the music comes at you from various angles:
"I See the Horizon" has a Maritime/Canadian Celtic vibe; "Dodo
Birdies Song" is a country/James Taylor-like hybrid; "How Do You
Do" is light jazz rock; and "Hooke's Law" is where Garmarna
meets Celtic and country. Quite a few of the songs call into the question the
value of participating in the rat race. The album's nonsense title comes from a
line in the equally oddly titled "Dodo Birdies Song" and is a
metaphor for foolish pursuits: On your
mark get born, get ready/Young man Ho-hum, we'll see you when you're done.
"Diggin'" is a list of futile searches: for a counter-revolution…writing on the wall…a mental constitution…for
the meaning of it all…. And it all comes down to the command to Keep on diggin' until I get a bigger hole.
"Humble R U" is a takedown of egotism and faux compassion;
"Carousel" asks of life: … who
wrote the script? Who set the harmony? "Another Kind of Spring"
uses the passage of the seasons to ask the rhetorical question: We had a higher vision, didn't we? But
if this sounds like Scandinavian angst, that's not quite accurate. There are
several quiet and tender songs, but mostly the Meek Men seek poignancy by
hitting us with feathers instead of bricks. It's an accomplished album
musically with loads of instruments, including accordion, dobro, guitars,
fiddles, mandolin, pedal steel, saxophone, and penny whistle. Even if you find
the voclasa bit too subdued for your tastes, Dumdedum remains one of the year's smartest albums.
★★★★
Are you a fan of Patty Griffin? If so, you'll also enjoy Lydia Loveless, a self-described
"alt.country" singer from Columbus, Ohio. Her newest album, Real,
is much like Griffin in that Loveless obliterates the lines between country
music, folk, pop, and rock. Also like Griffin, Loveless has a "small"
voice, but empowers it through no-holds-barred power that creates the effect of
beauty with heft. Part of that heft comes from a dynamite band—Ben Lamb, Todd
May, Nick German, Jay Gasper, Nate Holman–that creates a rich, full sound.
Check out the jangly guitar stew of "Same to You" and the deliberate
scratch-the-chords frame for "Longer." In the latter, Ms. Loveless'
vocals are at once dancey, strong, and gorgeous. It's simply a fabulous
song–like everything else on the album.
★★★★
I recently stumbled upon a St. Paul, MN-based indie rock
band called Communist Daughter. With
a handle like that you might expect didactic politics, but the name was
actually lifted from a lyric by the high-energy punk band Neutral Milk Hotel
and is used more ironically than ideologically. The band's material is actually
very personal–a reflection of founding member/vocalist/acoustic guitarist's
Johnny Solomon's travails. His was not, until recently, an enviable bio:
divorce, addiction (booze, meth), bipolar disorder, and a stint in jail. The
songs I sampled generally take introspective themes and wrap them in sounds
that are somewhere between folk and trippy acid rock. The tune of "' "Not the Kid" has echoes of the Kinks' "Lola," but "Speed of Sound" is as moody as Snow Patrol. Song lyrics often allude to isolation
and struggle. "Speed of Time" opens with: Man I hate this town/So I'm looking for the only way out/And the life I
wanted years ago is maybe/not the life I found. "Soundtrack for the
End" is a breakup song with the clever line: …we took six of one/And nothing from the dozen. Solomon is now
married to vocalist Molly Moore, with whom he harmonizes beautifully. Good band
and hopefully we'll hear more from them in the future. Check out their Introducing Communist Daughter sampler on Noisetrade.
★★★
Seth Walker is an
electric blues artist you should get to know if you're not already familiar
with his work. First of all, the dude has one of the best record label names
going: The Royal Potato family. Second, he mixes gritty nothing-but-back-luck
songs with catchy, sunny ones that are miles smarter than most of the syrup one
tastes on pop radio. Third, he's really, really good. His newest album is titled
Gotta
Get Back from which I was sent two sample tracks: "Dreamer,"
a sweet, hopeful song about imagining the potential of a new relationship; and
"Home Again," with its sharp hooks and a tune that's so memorable
that you'll not think of it as just another road song. These two inspired me to
listen to material from his backlist. One of my favorites is the misery-loves-company
"Grab Ahold." He sings, "Grab
ahold of me… and we'll both go down together," the irony enhanced by the tune's
faintly gospel feel. I really enjoyed "Rewind," a rockabilly/light
soul mash with the ambience of a Sam Cooke selection. One of the many joys of
listening to Walker is that he doesn't dwell in any one place for long.
"Wait a Minute" has a reggae-like back kick to it; "More Days
Like This" is a finger-snapping tribute to the moment when you're so much
in love that you want to freeze time. And so it goes. Check him out, folks.
★★★★
Remember those youthful days of hanging out with others and
imagining what your life will be like in the future? That's the vibe of North of Here, four friends from Alberta
whose May Hay While the Sun Shines has an innocence that is easier to
grasp visually and aurally than to describe. Their song "Let It Burn (RedCoals)" was a major nostalgia trip, as it's about sitting around a
campfire musing and conversing–exactly what I used to do with a couple of high school
buddies with whom I recently reconnected. North of Here is a bluegrass
ensemble, but the of the sort that owes more debt to performers such as Fleet
Foxes than to Ralph Stanley. And you'll definitely hear Milk Carton Kids
squared in the amazing four-part harmonies of songs like "Don't LookAbove." The instrumentation tends to build around Ian St. Arnaud's
mandolin. This is a young band–so young they joke about the challenges of
emerging facial hair–and at present they are more
sweet than accomplished. But they are also irresistibly precious and I can't help
imagining what they'll be like in just a few years if they keep the friendship fires
kindled. My goodness—those harmonies….
Rob Weir
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