10/14/20

Rebecca Loebe, Silversun Pickups. Ellen Starski, Devil Makes Three, Salim Nourallah, Wonder Years

 


Perhaps you remember Rebecca Loebe from The Voice or caught her opening for someone like Mary Chapin Carpenter, Shawn Colvin, or Ellis Paul. These days she’s been headlining on her own, which is right and proper. As a kickoff to Give Up Your Ghosts, she made material available from her wonderful 2010 debut Mystery Prize. It’s a great way to familiarize yourself with this rising talent who, after a stint at Boston’s Berklee College of Music now lives in Austin­. Loebe has a fondness for love songs–just not the ordinary kind. “Mystery Prize” is an example of that. It’s about a first date that might be the perfect man, though she’s not sure: I got my eye on the mystery prize. After all, love is a blood sport, you lose if you draw/You can only win if no one loses at all. “Marguerita” is a lovely song of two lovers. The catch? They are illegal immigrants who have been caught and separated. “California” is a love song to the Golden State, but one she’s leaving before the alcohol, nicotine, and caffeine drag her down. “Land and Sea” is wonderfully enigmatic. Does she wake up to second thoughts, or was it a very naughty dream? Loebe goes for a country vibe on “Married Man.” Its line You can’t knit socks for a married man/No matter how you tell yourself it’s fine is a dangerous attraction cautionary metaphor. Loebe has traveled and produced a lot since 2010, but she still likes to keep things a bit mysterious.   

 


Silversun Pickups
engender strong opinions. Their newest record, Widow’s Weed has been called a “gem” and “emotionally satisfying.” It’s also been dismissed as “forgettable” and “mostly boring.” This LA-based rock band draws comparisons to My Bloody Valentine, which means they’re hard to pin down. Silversun has been labeled post-punk, indie, dream pop, and “shoegazing,” the latter of which fits, once you get past the silly handle and know it’s basically acid rock. In truth, their full electric sets can be ragged and there’s not a lot of poetry in their lyrics. Maybe they’re better unplugged; their four-song set at Paste Studios is good stuff. The quartet is stripped down to just Brian Aubert putting his voice and his acoustic guitar through the paces, and Nikki Monninger laying down aggressive bass and adding harmonies. One offering is their 2009 single “Panic Switch,” which seems to be about an anxiety attack, and the rest are from Widow’s Weed. The most enigmatic of is “Freakazoid” lyrics such as, And this freakazoid/Who needs a little relief/Relief, relief… don’t unlock a song about someone trying to believe he’s trying. (To do what?) “Don’t Know Yet” is a can-this-relationship-be-saved song. Perhaps not; and it’s time to reboot the machine. “It Doesn’t Matter Why” won’t win any literary awards either, but Silversun Pickups is about energy in the moment. Count me among the satisfied.

 


Ellen Starski
has a unique voice that’s husky in a whiskey-steeped way. I adored her debut album, When Peonies Prayed for Rain (2018). And then she moved to Nashville. Sara’s Half-Finished Love Affair is a deeply disappointing sophomore release. I place the blame on the poor judgment of producers Lucas Morton and Max Hoffman. The album is well-written and it’s based on a cool idea. “Sara” is Starski’s composite of women she’s met plus some internal thoughts. She used these to imagine how life and love play out over the years. Alas, Nashville smoothed her edges and turned her into just another doggie in Generica Corral. “Come to Me Lover” cries out for gritty treatment, not echoey processed pop and little girl tones. This is almost as baffling as the faintly Liverpudlian accent we hear on “Have We Forgotten.” “Never Met a Ghost”has a bluesy melody that commands a soulful vocal. Instead, the mix is so thick that Starski could be singing cereal box ingredients. And what’s with the odd spaciness of “The Satellite That Changed Its Tune?” Was Sara in love with ET? The title track is pretty, if one overlooks the dreadful instrumental bridges and the outro with interstellar electronic crickets. Find Your Way” would be a great song if given a Bill Withers treatment and without intrusive percussion. There’s not a song on the album that’s not overproduced.    

 

Shorts

 


The Devil Makes Three
hadn’t released a new album since 2013 until Chains are Broken. You can hear a few tracks off that record, including “Castles,” a nice song about a woman who keeps falling for Mr. Wrongs when Mr. Right is right in front of her. TDMT used to rock out more, but these days they are mostly an acoustic country folk trio (or quartet when touring) anchored by dry-toned vocalist Pete Bernhard. “Castles” features crystalline acoustic riffs from Cooper McBean, the go-to guy for leads, with Lucia Turino putting down the bass lines. Try also “Mr.Midnight,” (2014) with its rockabilly feel, and “This Life” (2011), a bit of country breakdown about making the best of what life throws at you.

 


Maybe it’s the times, but I lost interest in Let’s Be Miserable Together, the first of five planned EPs by Texas songwriter Salim Nourallah. The title track sets the mood with its tag line, If we can’t be happy on our own.. let’s be miserable together. That could be funny, but it comes across as embracing misery. Doses of irony and satire would help, but the EP is mostly a laconic pity party. “Winners” is another example. It could be a devastating take-down of hipsters, but feels more like an outsider’s jealousy. The melodies of two of the tracks, “Assassins” and “A Simple Love,” sound like raw acoustic Beatles tracks before studio enhancements. Wrong album for wrong times.

 


I can’t help contrast Nourallah to the power punk band The Wonder Years. They’re supposed to be filled with angst, right? They are, but these heroes of the Vans Warped Tour temper thrash and bang with wry commentary and the right touch of sentiment. “Washington Square Park” contains likes such as: The whole world’s full of losers/If you get a chance to win take it. “Hoodie Weather” is a very unflattering gottta-get-outta-here look at South Philadelphia, but there’s also sympathy mixed with the sadness. “We Look Like Lightening” is about being scared on an airplane. Yeah, I can relate. Caution: This is one loud band, so you might want to search for acoustic tracks; rest assured, Dave Campbell’s vocals will still raise the roof. And if you find the Paste Studio session, the tracks are mislabeled.

 

Rob Weir

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