Don Gallardo, Still Here
Loved, loved, loved the latest from Don Gallardo. It's a
delightful folk/country/bluegrass mix evocative of the kind of projects the
late Steve Goodman used to do with such great aplomb. Like Goodman, Gallardo
tempers even his hard times songs with sunny-days-are-around-the-next-bend
optimism. Gallardo also has a warm, inviting voice that’s its own balm. In some
ways, the opening track, “Something I Gotta Learn,” sums Gallardo’s outlook. He takes
kicks in the teeth with, “I don’t want to get over this/Let it hurt” determination
and declares, “It could have been worse/Which is something I gotta learn.” That’s
wisdom he tries to pass on; “The Golden Rule,” its message enhanced with
emotive electric guitar, is a confessional of a man trying to protect his son
from repeating his mistakes: “Kept him clean of the bad things I’ve seen/Ain’t
that the Golden Rule?” These two, like each of the twelve tracks, grabs us with
strong melodies, zinger lines, and memorable hooks. And what a fine crop he cultivates: a country two-step (“Oh
Jane”), a Texas-style weepy (“The Loving Kind”), some clarinet-led Dixieland
swing (“Stay Awhile”), classic tonk (“The Bitter End”), several
Appalachia-influenced pieces, occasional Dylanesque cadences (“Ballad of a
Stranger’s Heart”), and crisp wordplay throughout. A small personal treat is
“Alley Talkin’ Blues # 12,” which would be a great song just for
the line “On the way to being lost/I got lost along the way.” It’s filled with
wry humor in an amusing morality tale gone wrong, the kind Steve Goodman surely
would have written had he not died so young. Still Here is a fantastic album; don’t miss it. ★★★★★
Lighthouse Keepers, Lighthouse Keepers
First things first, this six-piece outfit is a group of
Harvard friends, not the Australian band of the same name. Second, this
Lighthouse Keepers lineup spins musical magic—some of it sprinkled with fairy
dust. They peg themselves an “indie” band, but I found them more in the ork-pop
vein. (The “ork” here is a play on orchestral, not Tolkien baddies.) If you
imagine the chamber rock band Renaissance as jazzier and infused with more
bluegrass influences, you’d be on the same shoals as Lighthouse Keepers. They
are powered b the vocals of Abby Westover who, if not quite Renaissance’s Annie
Haslam, is a dynamic presence in her own right. Her strong, clear voice has the
emotive impact of pop jazz and she is especially adroit at letting her tones
swirl with the instrumentation: ukuleles, fiddle, bass, and guitar. “Liar’s
Dice” is upbeat and poppy and the lovely “Edinburgh” harkens back to great folk
balladry, but Lighthouse Keepers grab us with music that swirls in trance-like
ways. “Worryblur” is a fine example of this; it’s jazzy, but also and trippy
enough to evoke 60s psychedelia. That same feel comes through in the experimental
“Oblivion.” Although Ms Westover has a great voice, Lighthouse Keepers won’t
have you hanging onto each word; their goal is to let listeners drift with
notes that bend and blend—floaty music in the very best sense. I’m impressed by
how they manage to create this effect with acoustic instruments. Lighthouse
Keepers are a young band, and I’m already to take a ride on whatever magic
carpet ride they have up their sleeves. ★★★★
Rebecca Loebe and
Findlay Napier, Filthy Jokes
Sure wish this one had landed in my inbox earlier than it
did because "Joy to World" is one of the best new holiday songs I've
heard in ages—a New Year's ditty with honest advice and salutations such as
"Laugh more, fight less/Joy to the world I guess." It's a great song,
even if it is a few months late. Lucky for us there are a few other songs on
this EP that grew out of a songwriting retreat between the Austin-based Rebecca
Loebe and Scotland's Findlay Napier. Let me just say that if either of these
names is unfamiliar to you, it's time to get up to speed. Napier is not just a great
songwriter, he has a terrific and powerful voice, as you will hear on "BadMedicine," a folk song with polished studio production. (The link is live.) Celtic fans might
know his work with the band Back of the Moon. Loebe is no slouch either; her
voice is soft and pretty, but it's adorned with a splash of husk at the edges.
Both have great senses of humor as well. We hear Napier's wry commentary on
making relationships work in "Option to Buy," and Loebe in the lead
on the title track, a honky tonk explanation to a marriage made somewhere other
than heaven: "Finally you've found someone/To laugh at all your filthy
jokes." The stunner is "Kilimanjaro," a passage through life
song in 4:21 with a poignant ending. ★★★★
Merritt Gibson, Eyes on Us
Merritt Gibson, a 19-year-old singer/songwriter who grew up
in Boston, pens songs about love, breakups, loyalty, and how hard it is to let
go. Her debut record is an impressive effort that shows influences from indie
rock and new wave power pop, though it's often strongest when she tamps down
the noise. You'll hear definite new wave touches on the heavy bass and edgy
instrumentation of the title track. "Burning Hot" features clipped,
quick machine gun runs reminiscent of The Cars, and the eerie keyboards and
melody of "I Heard" is strongly suggestive of the Eurythmics. We'll
get back to that. "When You Were Mine" has an intriguing point of
view: that of a past relationship that seems sweeter in retrospect than it was
at the time. It's also hard to resist "My Best Friends," in which
Gibson lays down the law: "I don't intend/To choose a boy over my best
friends." These pop songs have appeal, but also betray Gibson's youth.
When songs invite comparisons it's easy to say she's no Annie Lenox. Few are. It
also reveals that Gibson's voice is pretty and powerful, but it's not yet clear.
Many of the songs are within the same range, which is why my favorite tracks by
far are the quieter ones in which she competes with fewer things. "Area Code" is a nice song— one of desperate yearning built around unanswered
phone calls. In "Truth and Myth," Gibson is tender and vulnerable; in
"Cold War II" she's dark and pessimistic (even if the metaphors are
forced). I was glad she finished with "Faraway," a love song of
wishing to freeze time. Since she claims her work is autobiographical, I was
worried she's been really unlucky for one so young. Let's call Merritt Gibson a
gem in need of more polish, but definitely a rising talent. ★★★½
Whiskey Wolves of the
West, Country Roots
Can you make a country record that’s so retro modern audiences
will find it new? The Whiskey Wolves of the West are hoping so. The lineup is
really the songwriting duo of Tim Jones (vocals and guitar) and Leroy Powell
(vocals, guitar, and everything else from pedal steel to clarinet). Their
approach is to unveil original material that sounds faintly like dusted-off
outlaw country from the 60s and 70s as power vocalists such as Levon Helm and
Waylon Jennings might have sung it. “Sound of the South” has everything from
rolling organ, references to Elvis, and soulful Muscle Shoals evocations in a
track that good ‘ole Southern music cures what ails you. “Lay That Needle Down”
also takes up back to the age of vinyl in an “… all I need right now/Is the
comfort of your company” song; and “Song Ain’t Gonna Write Itself” is the
ultimate retro potpourri: a two-step rockabilly number with some surf guitar,
some pedal steel, and big vocals. “Rainy Day Lovers” is also filled with old
country tropes; it unfolds in a “honky tonk haze” and is about a hard luck man
looking for a woman who, “Knows how to treat a man… [a] crazy kind of company
to put me back where I belong.” Does this work? Yes and no. There are lots of
borrowed riffs and vibes and its seven tracks feel about the right number for
us to recall some of good-time feel of old-style white Southern country without
getting into its problematic politics. ★★★
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