Edward + Jane are actually Timothy and Emilie Carpenter, two folks who were born in
Ohio, went to college in Chattanooga, married, stayed in Tennessee, and
overcame the relocation blues by building an intentional family of friends. As
Family We Gather is testament to the success of their endeavor. This is
small gem EP in the best Americana tradition. Normally that’s just a label for
those running from the term “folk music,” but in this case, it describes a
music that’s a not quite folk, bluegrass, mountain music, or country but has
echoes of each. It is a lovely harmony-driven EP that’s both intimate, but has
a big sound. The latter is because of all those friends who now feel like
family. You’ll hear lots of instruments in “We Will Meet Again,” but nothing
gets in the way of their perfectly balanced harmonies. This is wholesome,
energetic, goes-down-easy music. On “Days” they sing: There are things you don’t understand yet, but your family gets.
And family is both who you are and who you find on the way. ★★★★
@edwardandjanemusic
Treehouse Sanctum tells about a different Jane. In "Jack and Jane" this
six-piece Denver-based folk rock band personalizes the age-old question of
whether boy + girl = good pair, or bad match through a catchy tune, robust
instrumentation, and the sharp-edge/soft-edge vocals of Sam Rymer and Danya
Lynn Uptegrove. It's one of eleven amazing songs on Vivere, which means "to live" for
those of you whose Latin is as lousy as mine. This band is new to me, but now
that I know, I can't get them off my playlist. You name it and they do it
right—splashes of trumpet of "Chacala," punchy 1-2-3 vocal combos, a
magic moment, and shifts accurately described as "hush to howl." Rymer
is a gifted singer in the sense of really knowing how to use his voice
effectively. On "Rest of Me," for instance, he puts one in mind of
Van Morrison without channeling him. It's the way Rymer uses his voice to punch
through a big mix and then let it ride with the sequencing. About those big mixes,
I mean rolling Hammond B-3, brass, and percussion-enhanced big. The title track
uses the tale of Paul on the road to Damascus as a foil for the moment when
life takes a 180-degree turn and, if you have any doubt about this band's IQ,
some of the lyrics are indeed in Latin. The way in which the song builds is a
marvel, with power chords, crisp drum beats, swelling sound, and mighty vocals
marking the conversion. It's the sort of song that would called
"signature," were it not for the fact that they top it with"Pilot and Crew," which recounts the true tale of a World War II crew
of ten shot down over Germany that endured ten months of a POW camp. Check out
what they do with snippets in the opening and close, and how well they evoke an
aerial melee. Want more? "Shelby" is a bluesy jazz piece built around
big-production piano. This CD is a dazzler. ★★★★★
@treehousesanctum
Steve McCormick is one of those versatile "How 'ya want it?" musicians. Maybe
it's because he's spent a lot of time doing sessions work in LA cranking out
tunes for commercials, writing movie soundtracks (Felicity, Jack Frost), building high-end microphones, and
collaborating with big name producers. Or maybe he's just eclectic. His new
Noisetrade EP The Tripping Years showcases his many moods. He puts on
detached hipster garb for "Say a Prayer for New York City," which unfolds to blue
horns, robust bass, and attitude: Say a
prayer for New York City….don't you dare show no pity…. At the other end of
the spectrum is a country/pop cover of Townes Van Zandt's "At My Window,"
and a take on Lucinda Williams' "Fruits of My Labor" that milks
emotion from keys and blue-eyed soul. In between lies the Delta/Chicago blues
fusion of "Lying on the Bottom," which features grit, spit, grungy
guitar and gospel-like female backup singers. Flip it again for "Hello,
Hello," which is simultaneously melancholic and inviting—literally so with
lyrics like: Come into my life my
love/Don't you be alone. This is a really strong body of work that proves
that McCormick can command the mic on his own. ★★★★
@itsmccormick
Anytime you see the name Mark O'Connor you want to pay
attention. At this writing, O'Connor is about to drop Coming Home, a live CD that
features his own genre-defining fiddle work with additional string work from
his wife Maggie and his soon-to-be daughter-in-law Kate Lee, plus mandolin from
son Forrest, standup bass from Geoff Sanders, and flat-picking from Joe Smart.
How good are they? Three sample tracks told me all I need to know. "Those Memories of You" is a live track that leaves the station on a high,
lonesome note and arrives with a full head of steam that needs to cool down
after one of the best covers of “Johnny B. Goode” you’ve heard in ages. Among
the passengers: sizzling fiddle work, newgrass jazz licks, bold slap bass,
vocals delivered auctioneer-style, and sold-my-soul mandolin virtuosity. "A
Bowl of Bula 14" unfurls with quick mando runs and five minutes later,
you'll find yourself gasping for breath. Instruments break across each other's
bows and wakes like they're in a mad dash to make it to harbor first. Do I even
need to tell you that O'Connor paterfamilias is pretty damn good?
"Macedonia" impresses in a different way. Forrest O'Connor uses his
mando to set up musical conversations within a melodic structure punctuated by
breakouts and swells. I've not even heard the rest of the album yet, but I'm already
thinking five stars!
#duoviolin
Since 1996, New Hampshire's Dreadnaught—not to be confused with an Australian metal band of the
same name—has cranked out what it calls “experimental prog-Americana.” It’s
latest effort, Hard Chargin’, will
be hailed as inventive by some and a big mess by others. I’m somewhere in the middle.
Imagine a heavy metal band with the weirdness of Frank Zappa and his serious
forays into jazz, and you’d get something like this. “Have a Drink With
Dreadnaught” is like heavy metal cowboy music fused with pop. By contrast,
“Mummies of Cobboseecontee” is a blender full of soundscapes, electronic
pulses, jazz, and metal. “Bo-Leg-Ba” is both the title of a track and its
entire lyric, and “Takin’ a Ride With the Fat Man (Fatta Fattta Puck Puck)”
isn’t a whole lot more verbose. This one left me perplexed, as it struck me as an
intriguing departure from the ordinary at one moment, and just an excuse to
make loud noise the next. ★★
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