On Record Store Day, we had the pleasure of having Portland's Casey Dienel (AKA White Hinterland) in town to play The Beachland to close out the festivities on Waterloo. Beforehand, she rolled in and hit a half-hour DJ set at Music Saves. We've had our hands on Kairos, WH's full length LP, for quite awhile and it's still sitting atop my playlist. Generously filling and hauntingly satiating, the album is beautiful from top to bottom. Trolling the internets for music has its perks. Here's her cover of Neon Indian's "6669 (I Don't Know if You Know)." I don't have a lot to comment on this one, other than I love both versions. Enjoy, pals of the interwebs.
Tag Archive: Dead Oceans
(Editor’s note: That’s a picture of Phillip IV, an actual king of Spain. I am aware that the song I’m posting today is an extended metaphor and not a legitimate wish from The Tallest Man on Earth to be the actual monarch of an Iberian nation. However, it is a rare occasion that I can post a portrait of a long dead regent. If Wilco or somebody releases a single called “Lous XIV,” I’ll be stoked. Obviously.)
I’m supposed to be doing work (grading papers, reading textbooks, sending emails, sifting through academic databases for nuggets of pertinent literature and so on). Instead, I’m just listening to The Tallest Man on Earth’s “King of Spain” over and over. Making comments on my students’ work? Nope, just grooving on Kristian Matsson’s oddly unsettling vocals. (Is there some sort of intentional distortion going on there? Some sort of super special vintage microphone or something? Or does this cat smoke three packs of Kools a day? How does he maintain tunefulness with all of that gravelliness? How sweet is it when he reaches for the high note in the last bar?) Reading up on the material I’ll have to lecture on next week? Nope, just marvelling at the intricate guitar work on the track. Dude is doing some serious folk shit there. Crafting a writing prompt for my students to sweat over? Nope, just turning the lyrics over and over. “I will settle in Pamplona and I’ll provoke the bulls with words.” Yes! Senoritas sighing, floating in siestas, the overarchingly wistful yearning. Yes! More of that!
In short, The Tallest Man on Earth is preventing me from doing my job. Any chance I can sue him? Any lawyers in the house? His Dead Oceans’ debut hits the planet on April 13th. I’m already reschduling my office hours to work around the release.
The Tallest Man on Earth – “The King of Spain”
Here in Cleveland, the sometimes vaguely accurate weather gods we call meteorologists are calling for a foot or so of snow to dump on us over the next day. Hardly of epic proportions, but a pain in the ass nonetheless. In the very least, cause enough to void the social calendar (and work, if one is so lucky to (a) have a job and (b) take a snow day without losing said job) and stay home to listen to wintry tunes and drink warm mugs of delight. And, honestly, I can’t think of a better track to lead off your snow day playlist than the initial single from Portland-based White Hinterland’s forthcoming album, Kairos. Hell, even the name of the band shouts winter.
White Hinterland vocalist Casey Dienel – who last made a splash in Lake Blogosphere in October with covers of Justin Timberlake (“My Love”) and Arthur Russell (“Lucky Cloud”) – brings a little Victoria Bergstrom to the album, soft and sweet and a little cute. The effect works well with the enhanced production of this new album, which is less keyboard-driven than previous efforts, but rather turns to drum machines and chimes to add ethereal whimsy. This is music you should listen to when standing on the warm side of some frosted windows, watching snow fall and pedestrians trudge by, safe inside with steam rising from your cup.
Kairos, the third full-length album from White Hinterland, drops March 9th via Dead Oceans.

No disrespect to the month of December, but I’m getting super excited for January. You, me, and the creepy dude down the street are in for an ass-load of solid indie rock releases the first month of 2010, and Citay’s forthcoming Dream Get Together is the latest addition to my “albums to look forward to as 2010 dawns” list.
Dream Get Together, which will be released by Dead Oceans on January 26th, finds the San Francisco jam-pop collective stretching out, and adding a little Athens, GA-style quirk to the rugged 70s riffs that characterized their previous Dead Oceans release, 2007′s Little Kingdom.
The new record is set to open with “Careful With That Hat,” a lengthy Neil Young meets ‘luded-up Phish and R.E.M. plus a little soprano breathy “ah-ah-ah” pop track that aptly prepares the listener for all that follows. Nearly 7 minutes long, it shouldn’t surprise you to see me use a descriptor like sprawling, but Citay makes the most of the minutes, changing gears and attitudes throughout the ride.
The third quarter of the song is perhaps the best, with a grungy belly riff that comes in underneath some of the more amusing pop affect that preceded it and turns the whole thing into something more guttural and dramatic than you might have expected. The song ends where you’d expect a Phish jam to get started, a deft choice in my humble opinion.
On Wednesday night, Megafaun and Bowerbirds rolled through Cleveland, and in the fashion of reciprocal need, we got the chance to hang with the band and had a killer party at my house on the southside of town. By the end of the night, about nine people were crashing all over my house, and if the amazing talent in the band isn’t a secret, you’ll be happy to know that they’re great people, as well. Phil Moore (guitarist/vocalist) and Beth Tacular (vocals/accordion/keys) were gracious housegests and also a killer live act. It’s also no secret in the blogosphere that Bowerbirds’ fresh new release, Upper Air is loaded with soaring indie rock greatness. It’s been on our playlist for quite awhile, and while we were definitely stoked to hang out with the guys (and gal) on Wednesday, it’s been even more of a treat for us to see them absoultely bring the house down at Pitchfork on the side stage a couple hours ago.
To open, Tacular started on the keyboard and Moore gently strummed his beat-up classical guitar. Immediately, it’s obvious that sound is the centerpiece. During the set, the audience swayed quietly back and forth as the trio (along with Brad Cook from Megafaun on the upright) launched through some slow burners and dreamy folk infused indie rock. Cook’s upright bass, along with the employment of a bass drum turned onto its side creates a unique balance between highs and lows in the band’s sound. A classical guitar/keyboard duo never sounded so full and sonorous, in other words. Additionally, it doesn’t take long for Bowerbirds to hit a stride when they perform live. Moore has a quiet confidence on stage, and this is an added boon to his stellar chops.
Musically, there’s a maturity to the arrangements, and when the drummer hit the violins, it melted nicely with Tacular’s accordion work. With Bowerbirds, it’s all about emotional connection and energy, and all cylinders were hit today. As mentioned before, Bowerbirds is currently on tour with Megafaun, and it should be a summer requirement to hit this if it’s near your town. CLICK HERE for tour dates. Also, enjoy Northern Lights off of Upper Air and snag the album at insound by CLICKING HERE.
More pictures after the jump…..
As James mentioned yesterday, our rising age was put to the test this weekend during a road trip back to our alma mater. I remember wobbling back and forth trying to text James to get back to the bar and hail a cab because I was clearly done for the night. This was, embarrassingly, at 12:30 am. Mind you, we had been drinking since six, but I can’t remember one night in my twenties that I embarked on a night of boozing and called it quits so early. I’m fast approaching my 31st year and nights like this remind me of my vulnerability and that life’s clock isn’t going to go into perpetual rewind any time soon. To connect this thought, yesterday I was finally able to spin the new John Vanderslice album, Romanian Names for the first time, and although I had big expectations by default, I had no idea how hard it would hit me. Vanderslice is 41 years old, eleven years my senior, and this boggles my mind. Vanderslice pumped out his first record when he was my age, and while most musicians these days start in their late teens or early twenties, all of JV’swork exhibits a maturity that can only be found through a dude with some years under his belt. It’s intriguing to think a guy at age 30 can put out his first album and then build that idea into something as seminal as Cellar Door so early (but yet also late) in life. Vanderslice is a jack-of-all trades, producing, collaborating, and pumping out lyrical brilliance for peeps in the know, and if for some strange reason you’ve been on a distant planet and have not caught wind of this genius, hop on board because Romanian Names fits superbly in his already successful arsenal.
The first area worthy of discussion is the lyrical strength of Romanian Names. Vanderslice grabs the audience from the start, weaving through ambiguous content and an overriding aura of sadness and loss. A few particular tracks pound home JV’s lyrical ability, specifically “Fetal Horses,” “Time to Time,” and the broodingly evil, “Forest Knolls.” In “Fetal Horses,” a high pitched synthesizer is laced with simple piano arpeggios and Vanderslice’s neo folk crooning. There are some swift guitar effects and an amazingly rich and textured sound from the analog recording process. Lyrically, he’s stuck in a push-pull relationship as he angrily states At least today your pixelated bloody face, it seems to me to be finally dead with you and him. Come back to me again. You’d break everything I have. “Forest Knolls” (kickass live video below) emphatically points to how sharp Vanderslice is. Reminiscent of the spooky narration in Sufjan’s “John Wayne Gacy, Jr.,” the track places the extended metaphor of deer lurking outside a cabin window to express intense pain and regret over not aggressively dealing with intruders into a past relationship. We’ve got food for weeks and weeks. All that blood would find its way to the carpet. Sitting there I couldn’t shake that guilt. As the deer walked free up the hill. As with Sufjan’s Gacy track, spooky and dark imagery emits the idea that the fine line between sanity and losing marbles is not always abundantly clear. Dude got cheated on and he let the guy get away with it. He’s filled with regret and pain. Romanian Names is chock full of poetic worth and the mere fact that the music is so damn good only adds to the effectiveness.
The analog recording process that Vanderslice employs creates a wonderful atmosphere of sound. At no point on the album does it sound sloppy, however. ”C&O Canal” includes xylophones, wood blocks, and tinny snare drum percussion to create an oddly soothing sound. In many tracks on the record the percussion is soft and simple, and this allows Vanderslice’s dominant vocals and harmonies to rise to the forefront. In the acronym track “D.I.A.L.O.” a trippy reversed synthesizer riff almost sounds like it’s being sucked back into the synthesizer and dual harmony vocal delivery signifies Vanderslice’s panache for creating excellent arrangements that make something complex sound completely simple. Simplicity is shown in the title track, as an irish-folk vibe is on full display with a simple acoustic guitar and Vanderslice’s teetering mix of soft and loud vocal delivery. When you fell off the balance beam, you couldn’t win. But you jumped up again. At times, JV decides to keep things simple and focus on the emotional content of his lyrics. It’s nice to know that he doesn’t need bells and whistles to hit an emotional chord. This happens often throughout the entire record.
Vanderslice has often garnered plenty of acclaim for the narrative structure of his albums. Whether it’s the mysterious Microsoft lawsuit or the tightly drawn reference to classic British poets like Shelley and Robert Lowell, it’s a poor decision to only listen to his work for musical sound. The narrative nature of Romanian Names is loud and clear as Vanderslice is creating a painful and sad depiction of life’s regrets and of losing things once loved. Obviously, this isn’t always an area where blame can be placed, and Vanderslice seems keenly aware of this. in “Tremble and Tear.” the album’s opener, the largeness of the track is juxtaposed by the softly pined, I can see her in the snow, snow snow and delicately placed lyrics of loss. In the previously mentioned “C&O Canal” JV hits the audience with probably the most interestingly placed lyric, I track down your friend. And won her heart over slowly. Then I walked away. Hope it gets back to you someday and immediately goes into a poppy and happy “la la la” session that creates the exact sarcastic machismo that many of us have felt when trying to get over a lost love. The album is narrative, but more strongly thematic, and its intelligence and sharp construction make it a 2009 release that is well worth all of the hype.
So at 41 years old, Vanderslice is in his 11th year of recording solo efforts. I suppose that eleven years into a career would signify one’s prime. We’re in full agreement that Vanderslice hasn’t dropped a bit or lessened his intelligently composed musicianship. Whenever I get an album a little bit late and I find myself struggling to find elements of quality, I think about albums like this that immediately sprawl outward into my nervous system in just one listen. I have no doubt this is going to be a great listen for many years to come. If you’re not picking this one up today, you’re a lunatic. Enjoy “Fetal Horses” and pick it up at insound.
July 7 is going to be a good day for music lovers. On that date, Dead Oceans will release the second record from Raleigh-based trio, Bowerbirds. 2008′s Hymns for a Dark Horse gets a lot of spins from us when we’re in the mood for lush, melodic folkiness with a twinge of both modest despair and plucky hopefulness. Upper Air, given the strength of the just released single, “Northern Lights,” promises much of the same. The forcefully mellow acoustic guitar, Phil Moore’s silky pipes, the haunting yet tunefully sparse piano and the shuffling, sniping drum sound are a sure recipe for soothing the ears on hot summer porches across the heartland. Good luck getting the tune out of your head in the immediate future.
We’re stoked to hear the rest of the record, but, arguably, we’re even more excited that Bowerbirds will be touring to support it. They’re rolling through Cleveland on July 15 and have dates all over the map. Even better news (if you’ve got tastes similar to my own, which is likely, since mine is impeccable) is that Citizen Dick favorites Megafaun will be with Bowerbirds on all the dates currently scheduled. Any night that I can hear “The Marbled Godwit” and “Drains” coming from a single stage is certain to be a highlight of the summer. Enjoy “Northern Lights,” and mark your calendars for both the album’s release and the tour date most relevant to you.
Akron/Family’s fourth full length album, Set ‘Em Wild, Set ‘Em Free, closes with “Last Year.” It’s by far the shortest song on the record and consists solely of a warm piano line behind a soaring multiple part harmony that repeats the lyric,”Last year was a hard year, for such a long time. This year’s gonna be ours.,” four times before fading into silence. It’s a bit of a stylistic departure from the rest of the record, a sprawling, noisy, diversely raucous masterpiece. Since everybody with a brain and a computer is going to bring up the Grateful Dead when talking about Akron/Family, I’ll get my reference out of the way early: “Last Year” shares a gene with “And We Bid You Goodnight” coming after ten minutes of “Feedback.” The closing track’s two minutes of warm vocals around a spare piano riff serve as both an iteration of the album’s message and a mental coda to the energetic forty-seven minutes that preceded it. On the message side, those sixteen words could mean anything you want them to: after dropping a member and changing labels, Akron/Family is on the cusp of becoming the biggest little band in the world; after eight years of a war-mongering, regulation-eliminating, corporate-greed rewarding president, we’ve got one of us in Washington; or, more generally, things were hard and now they’re going to be better. On the coda side, the closing two minutes serve as a reminder that the album is a testament to the skill and soul of Akron/Family; they can get loud on you, but when they dial it back, they’re channeling the best we’ve got to offer as a musical nation. Dudes made a great album and the last song serves to remind the listener that they’ve got more tricks than the psychedelic freak out in the bag.
Set ‘Em Wild, Set ‘Em Free is an album that doesn’t require any sort of long-winded introduction (no 500 word discussion of African power sculpture today), at least partially because the album is universally appealing. Do you like music that doesn’t suck? Good. You’ll like Set ‘Em Wild, Set ‘Em Free. Often, I feel like I’ve got to talk you, dear reader, into an album. In this case, I don’t. Press play on “River.” If you’re not singing along by the three-minute mark (“You and I and a flame make three…”), get the hell off of my website. I’m going to keep going and attempt to make a more refined critical statement about the album (and hit you with a few spots that shine brightly for me) but this is an album that doesn’t need a whole lot of pushing. It’s enough to say that it’s as good as anything I’ve heard this year and trust that you’ll go and buy it.
“Gravelly Mountains of the Moon,” an eight minute opus in the middle of the record, is a prefect song to use to look at all of the things that Akron/Family accomplish on Set ‘Em Wild, Set ‘Em Free. The song starts with a pastoral flute splashing out of the speakers (Anybody have a good classical reference? I don’t really. Mozart? Is that lazy?), that is soon joined by some brass and a strummed acoustic behind Seth Olinsky’s warbly, evocative vocals. The first two minutes of the song or so meander through this Seals and Croftian folky wonderland, dropping the horns, throwing in some harmonies and wearing a full beard and flannel. At 2:35, almost completely unannounced, the song gets really loud. Huge drums, wailing electric guitars and a pulsing bass line all kick in as the band sheds the sheepskin, revealing the toothy grin of an acid-rock wolf. There’s a zonked-out guitar solo that evolves into a crunching, thunderous semi-chorus, with those horns coming back from the beginning, but funky now instead of classical, and what sounds like a dozen people shouting “translate to get high.” (I might have missed that lyric, but there’s a lot going on at this point. It could very well be “translate to get by.”) This pulsing, anthemic, fist pumping, toe-tapping sound continues for a minute or two before everything drops out again, leaving only a piano and a three-part harmony, repeating over and over “Put me in, let me run with the ball. Hah.,” as the song closes. In these eight minutes, Akron/Family smokes through at least four distinct genres, five tempo shifts and a full orchestra of instruments. It sums up a lot of what they do on the record as a whole: introduce an idea, blow it up, pack in a “chorus” that’s going to be unshakable and close with a sing-along that will bring up the goosebumps. “Gravelly Mountains of the Moon” is just the best example of this (and the song that I’ve got stuck on repeat), but “They Will Appear” and “Creatures” work in roughly the same mode, acting as big sonic canvases where Akron/Family splash a whole mess of aural paint. I told you above that you should buy this record as soon as possible; if you already took my advice, play those three in succession. Make sure you’re somewhere that will be conducive for wild, dervish-like hippie dancing.
There’s not a soft spot on the album. The four tracks we’ve talked about already are great, but it’s not like the rest are clunkers. “The Alps and Their Orange Evergreen” is a finger-picked, quieter beauty. The conclusion of “Sun Will Shine” with the fade into white noise, followed by the return of the track for an free jazz freakout that turns spontaneously into “Auld Lang Syne” is completely bad-ass. “Everyone is Guilty,” which has been floating around the internet for a while, is awesome. “Set ‘Em Free,” the twangiest track on the album, is AM radio gold. (And, as usual, I love that you can hear someone say “Are we rolling?” at the front end of that one.) The depth of sound on the record as a whole (a ton of horns, blazing guitar solos, thunder god drums, delicateness when it’s called for…) is consistently awe-inspiring. Olinsky, Dana Janssen, and Miles Seaton are all wildly talented fellows and the raft of folks they’ve gotten to play with them shine as well.
I’m stepping away from my computer now to take my dog to the disc golf course. I’m putting on the headphones; I’ll be listening to Set ‘Em Wild, Set ‘Em Free. I’m going to be doing that a lot this summer. Assuming you’ve got ears, you will be as well.
This weekend was good to me musically. I decided it was about time I launched back into the vinyl arena after long abandoning it for the ease of digital downloads. It’s not that I haven’t always loved the warm sound vinyl gives off, but as a broke ass college student, well, you know the drill. Ten years later, I had still never pulled the trigger and headed back to flipping through record store aisles for new releases. I decided to craigslist a kick ass system, opting for a pair of Klipsch tower speakers, a dual channel receiver at a bargain open-box price from HHGregg and a relatively un-unique turntable a guy just wanted to unload from his attic. Partner these new purchases with a stop at Music Saves, and Bent Crayon, local Cleveland record stores with hefty indie selections, and I’ve been blanketed in beats and smiles all week. The album drawing the most ire from my neighbors over the past few days is All Aboard Future by These Are Powers.
This Dead Oceans Records release by the Brooklyn and Chicago trio is a sonic suite of noise, consistently sludgy and filled to the brim with enough spooky ambience to freak little kids out. The polyrhythmic quality of each track, poised with impeccably organized arrangements and percussion creates not only a record that’s loud and intense enough to warrant a few broom pounds from the neighbors, but also deep enough to please the ears for hours. I’ve repeated the record back and forth and each new spin uncovers something new and pleasing. This record tangles an entire spindle of aural thread around the knees and yanks back hard, slamming audiences to the floor.
“Easy Answers” begins the sound brigade with a darker and fuzzier tilt on electronica. Anna Barie’s vocals are energetic and unstable, rooted in digressive intensity. The track includes stomping drum machines and high-pitched swirls painting a haunting and pounding emotional landscape. It’s not so much the broodingly dark environment the sounds create here, but more the thumping percussion that sits behind everything else that’s going on. This is not a guitar album, nor is it even a distant cousin of club thump either. I’ve plowed through this opening track probably twenty times in the last couple of days and it’s difficult to categorize. A self-professed rocker like me can quite possibly understand it better than the hipster electro dudes can. Interesting. Where do I sign?
The second track changes gears a little, but the band still goes into the sound toybox to play a little. The bongo-like drums in “Life of Birds” are at the center, paired with a screeching synthesizer and high pitched vocals. This is a sinister song and the atmosphere it creates is edgy and the largeness of the drum echo makes skin crawl in such a good way. Other tracks are grounded in shredding darkness, too, like “Light After Sound” and “Parallel Shores.” ”Light After Sound” is a track I’d probably listen to just before I burned something to the ground. Pat Noecker’s fuzzed out bass sounds resonate and hum behind his tautly delivered whisper vocals; this track is well worth the price of the entire record, and shouldn’t be listened to alone.
The second half of the album produces more dissonantly ambient experiments. ”Adam’s Turtle” begins with a pots and pans percussion sound. They’re throwing the kitchen sink of noise at your ears early in this track with a fragmented rhythm and a throbbing synthesizer film oozing overtop of everything. As mentioned, this is an album for all ears, and the blips and whistles in “Glass Blocks” and “Sand Tassels” are teeth-rattling candy for any mature ear. Great albums can sustain the audience from beginning to end, and the closing track, “Blue Healer” is a prime example of an album that peaks where it should–at its close. It begins with some record-scratching effects and a pulsating thump that’s tunneled so deep it’s nearly indecipherable at first take. The vocals in this track aren’t really sung, as the audience is approached as mere passersby of vicarious conversation. The conversations are muffled, as if the band took the microphones and recorded from the bottom of a murky pond. About halfway through, Barie begins belting out some screams. My flesh crawls each time I hear the track; I think of Carol Anne screaming for Mommy through the fuzzy television set. As quick as this aura is created, both the track, and the album, sputter out completely exhausted and devoid of anything. It’s probably one of the best closers I’ve heard this year.
Ultimately, this album is so full of noise and intrigue that it’s going to stay in your record player for quite awhile. Why waste any more time? If it’s possible to make darkness colorful, These Are Powers has done exactly that. The brooding structure and sludgy electronic arrangements are splashed with colorful intensity. They’re experimenting, but they hang onto pop and rock undertones just enough to make it accessible and cool. The album has been out for a few days, and we give it our Citizen Dick stamp of approval for fast purchase. Now that I’m back into the vinyl realm, I suggest picking it up that way. The hums hum louder and the thump resonates. Either way, this album doesn’t disappoint. Not a bit.














