Tag Archive: Singles Club


One of the strangest things, to me, pop culturally, is how Liv Tyler could have possibly been conceived from Steven Tyler.  Dude’s an ugly man, for certain.  Let’s pause for a second and consider the possible scenarios here.  First, maybe Liv got the recessive genetic traits, long dormant in the Tyler line.  Perhaps a secondary hypothetical might discuss the toll drugs and excess have taken on the Aerosmith front man, and this plays into the whole mix.  In any case, Liv Tyler, to me, has always embodied a kind of graceful poise; she’s a pearl and her father is the brine-beaten shell.  I suppose it makes sense somewhat.  At age nine, she found out she was rock royalty.  She now flies in helicopters to movie shoots; she’s never had to worry a day in her life.  Soft skin, gorgeous smile.  She’s never had to mow the yard, clean a bathroom, or more aptly, live in squalor with we lesser folk.

All this to lead into the latest Roadside Graves track that showed up on Stereogum this morning.  The prolific New Jersey act is delivering their Americana hybrid of folk, guitar stomp, and barstool anthem yet again on 3/16 through Aquarium Drunkard’s amazing spinoff label, Autumn ToneYou Won’t Be Happy With Me is a six-song collection that we’re eager to put our ears to as soon as possible.  Last year’s stellar LP, My Son’s Home is near and dear to me at all times.  This newest track, “Liv Tyler” is a 7 1/2 minute ass-shaking saloon romp with enough punch and vibe to send me to the repeat button six times before settling in to write this post.  Piano arpeggios sprinkle the background while John Gleason raspily delivers emotionally epic vocals.  A jumpy breakdown about midway through increases tempo and the pianos rise upward out of the background, paired with a bluesy and frenetic guitar solo.  Stereogum mentions that the six songs o the newest effort a touch darker, exploring more spacious areas.  If this track is any indication, we love where Roadside Graves is moving.  When my favorite folky rock band can palm mute their way to anthemic highs, I can get behind it.

As far as Liv Tyler, well, I smirk when I hear the lyrics.  I don’t know, who’s baby you are is repeated early on in the song.  Obviously somebody’s on the same page as me.

Roadside Graves – Liv Tyler

Buy My Son’s Home at Insound now!

Roadside Graves Official Site

 

Independent rock and roll seems cleanly cleaved into a couple different groups, at least when it comes to the role sex plays: asexual well-behaved (largely) pale dudes in skinny jeans and hyper-sexual bad boys, also largely pale and donning the ever-present skinny jeans. Electric Tickle Machine falls clearly into the latter category, with lyrics about pussy power and disease complemented by a sex-pout style seen on frontmen throughout the history of rock. I mean, shit, their debut release, Blew It Again, has a faceless lassie’s not quite covered at all breasts featured pretty darn prominently on the cover!

Complete with loud messy guitars, a rich layering of sound, and some pretty killer drumming, the songs on Blew It Again strikes me as something The Flaming Lips could’ve recorded in the 90s had they moved away from psychadelia toward semi-mainstream indie rock style rather than avant garde art rock. This is particularly true for the title track as well as “Part of Me,” while “Gimme Money” seems to have a touch of The Clash in it.

 Electric Tickle Machine sound like your jam? Then check them out as they continue on their cross-country tour. They hit Citizen Dick hometown Cleveland TONIGHT with a gig at Now That’s Class, and continue westward to the Pacific Northwest, down south through California, and back east through Texas to tour ender Memphis.

Electric Tickle Machine – Blew It Again

Electric Tickle Machine – Part of Me

Electric Tickle Machine – Gimme Money

Debate time, friends. Here’s your prompt:

Is Nick Diamonds the hipster answer to Justin Timberlake?

islands

This is what I’ve been asking myself lately anyway, at least since the last Islands record, Vapours, came out last month on Anti-. The song that’s really behind this particular topic of wonder, “No You Don’t,” has been bouncing around the internet since July, and while the general spin on Vapours is that it is more minimalistic than previous Diamonds offerings, I’ll argue that “No You Don’t” fits in better with the chaotic, multi-layered music that characterized earlier work.

As a track, “No You Don’t” is a song of reasonably good advice, from the opening lyrics warning the listener not to buy dope from a man you don’t know through the very end of the song. Swirling between, around, and over the top of the lyrics is a churning beauty of a hook, adorned like a Christmas tree with quacking guitar licks, old school keyboard tones (perhaps on marimba setting?), and a delightfully off-kilter drum machine.

As is often the case when it comes to his work, it is Diamonds’ delivery that sells the moment (and also begs the Timberlake comparison, though we are talking more SNL guest appearance JT than the FutureSex/LoveSounds iteration), from the split-second falsetto feints to the near-hound dog pronunciation of long “o” sentence-enders (i.e., brew, stew, do, you, etc.).

Sometimes when you let a few weeks go by between an album’s release and your first serious listen, you end up never really getting into the material. Don’t let this happen to you on this one.

Islands – No You Don’t

gamble2Hit play on the lead single from the recently released Electric Owls’ record Ain’t Too Bright. Listen to that sweet acoustic intro, backed by a subtly dancing bell sound, punctuated by a hard rock power chord at the ten second mark, launching into sweet multi-tracked vocals ranting about telekenesis and so on.  The rest of the song is clearly good, but the first thirty seconds or so are truly amazing.  The interplay of soft and loud, the vaguely seventies vibe of the vocals, the grandiose nature of the whole presentation all hit me right between the eyes. The rest of the song vacillates between the two extremes established in that stellar first thirty seconds, floating from eardrum shaking loud to flowered blouse soft.  There are even some manipulated vocals at the end to put a bit of an exclamation point on the throwback nature of the track.  I have not heard the rest of Ain’t Too Bright, but I’m itching to get my fingers on it.  At the very least, Oscar Gamble would give the track a thumbs up.  (Not because the song makes me think of Foghat, but because Oscar Gamble is a noted music critic.  Unbeknownst to many fans of both the Cleveland Indians and internet-based music-driven navel gazing, Gamble founded the off-line predecessor of Said the Gramophone during the 1975 season.  He printed Orated the Omphalos as a five page fanzine that he hand mailed to paying subscribers; it was packed with pretentious vignettes about Nick Drake and shit.  True story.)

One more thing in favor of Electric Owls: I’m lazy with the scroll bar, so I typically type a half-assed search term into the itunes to save some mouse work.  For Electric Owls, I typed “electric” (obviously), which meant that Electric Ladyland played right after “Magic Show” wrapped up.  Which means that “Voodoo Child” started as soon as that last “magic” faded into oblivion.  Which means that I got a little unexpected dose of Hendrix with my indie rock today, which is always welcome.

Electric Owls – Magic Show

TheSoftPack

I’m not going to lie and pretend we don’t post remixes on this site, because we do.  Ten times out of eleven, however, the remixes are only mildly interesting to me.  Many times I find them revolting and really dislike the way people run with other songs and launch themselves in viral popularity because of someone else’s musicianship.  I suppose, in that sense, it’s a bit of a cop-out.  I haven’t personally posted a Don Diablo track for this exact reason.  Strategically timely email notifications about new mixes don’t appeal to me usually.

This is why hit’s nice to get a good one that flies through our inboxes.  It’s also nice to see an actual rock band mixing things up a bit.  Additionally, it’s also nice when a band that is successful in its own right decides to tackle another successful track.  It shouldn’t be a secret that The Soft Pack released a hell of an album in the early months of this year.  I’ve mentioned it on numerous occasions as one of my favorites of the year.  The Soft Pack’s gutsy garage sound is a huge boon to Phoenix’s “Fences.” The upcoming remix album that’s bound to explode the internet really benefits from versions like this.  Most of the tracks I’ve heard leave me indifferent.  The Soft Pack, however,  packages it up just the way I like it.  Slurred with gravelly non-chalance and a sneer.  Word.  Enjoy the tune.

Phoenix – Fences (The Soft Pack Remix)

gypsy curseI’m home from work today because the right side of my face is swollen to roughly twice its normal size.  My doctor gave me some antibiotics, hypothesizing that I was bitten in my sleep by some sort of nefarious insect.  I have a slightly wilder theory.  I believe a gypsy put a curse on me.  I was haggling over the price of a donkey this weekend with a travelling band of Eastern Europeans and secured what I thought was an excellent deal for both parties.  The state of my face implies that the gypsy thought she got a raw deal.  I am currently applying a poultice of ground chicken livers and unicorn tears to my grill, hoping for the best.  (This is a tough ethical decision for me, in that I am a vegetarian, but I’ve decided to put my personal mores to the side in the interest of having a normally sized face again.)  If you don’t hear from me next week, it is because I have travelled to Uzbekistan to seek a powerful mage.  Good times!

My gypsy-cursed face is, however, your benefit.  I got a super sweet track from Kansas City duo I Love You in the electronic mail this morning.  The boys bring the raucous art-punk, with swirling atonality and generalized noisification.  Further, non-sequiturs in the title always catch my eye.  The press release for I Love You describes the band’s sound as DIY punk crossed with dub bass.  That’s a weird combo, but it works completely.  You’ll be tapping your toes while this one plays.  While the poultice seeps into my hell-ravaged dome, it’s a nice distraction.  I Love You’s second record, Bell Ord Forrest comes out on Joyful Noise on October 27.  It’s perfect music if you’re banishing any evil spirits from your person and/or home.

I Love You – The Colloquialism is Simply “Gas”

nurses love cloth

I just wrapped up an annotated bibliography (you’re reading this on Thursday afternoon, but I’m writing it in the wee hours of Thursday morning).  Annotated bibliographies are inherently soul-sucking: read, summarize, evaluate, repeat as necessary.  Granted, I have a slightly deeper understanding of my potential dissertation topic now, but my eyeballs might fall out of my head.  And I’ve had way too much coffee.  I turned to my electronic mail for some good news (there is no good news in annotated bibliography land, only lather, rinse, repeat).  I opened up an email from the Dead Oceans people to see the bearded hippie above staring at me.  It’s nice to know that, somewheres in the world, there are folks spinning blankets around and taking pictures of it; it kind of balances out my drab academic work, I think.

I also love that Nurses apparently hate articles.  Definite or indefinite, these dudes do not seem to be down with (I’d argue) one of our more useful parts of speech.  (I mean a car as opposed to the car is a pretty handy distinction to make, right?)  I like that kind of iconoclastic eschewing of traditional grammar.  The Nurses would just sound lame, right?

Those diversions aside, “Technicolor” is a legitimately sweet track, a meandering, quasi-psychedelic romp with mildly unsettling vocals and restrained instrumentation.  Just the sort of thing to talk you off the ledge of a caffeine bender.  Nurses are touring with Citizen Dick favorites Le Loup (who apparently only like French articles, so this is a match made in heaven).  They won’t be stopping in Cleveland, sadly, but the rest of the nation should turn out for these fellows.

Nurses – Technicolor

morningbell

The first time the singer from Morningbell (it’s either Travis or Eric Atria; they’re both listed on vocals and I don’t know the band well enough to tell them apart note: we got late breaking news from the band that Travis is the one who pumps this (and the rest of the vocals) out) laces into the phrase “We’re marching off to war” in the new song of the same name, right around the one minute mark, your ears are going to pick up; it sounds exactly like Perry Farrell circa 1990.  I shit you not.  The same gravelly, power packed delivery melting into primal howl that Perry perfected on “Mountain Song” is all over the vocals on “Marching Off to War,” which is undeniably a good thing.

That one vocal line is the thing that grabbed me by the throat about the song, but the rest of it is pretty sweet as well; the shuffling, vaguely foreign percussion, the mildly spacey lyrical content and the overall vibe of skewed confidence all hit the right notes for me on this track.  “Marching Off to War” is on Morningbell’s upcoming fourth record, Sincerely Severely (out December 1 (which seems like a long way off, but really isn’t)).  The aforementioned Trevor Atria described the recording of the record as such: “We worked like motherfuckers on this one.  And it shows.”  Indeed!  Assuming the rest of the record is to the caliber of the track below, we’ll have more coverage as the leaves start to turn golden.

Morningbell – Marching Off to War

theskydrops-appalachia

We here at Citizen Dick World Enterprises like to stay ahead of the curve, or at least in pace with it. Sometimes, however, we miss a beat. We’ve taken one another to task for such ball droppage in the past and promise to continue doing so. While we cannot go back in time and fix such mistakes, we can reach back into the near past and drop a tasty nugget of tunage (apparently I’m channeling Phish today) for you to check out.

Such is the case with today’s singles club entry, “Truth Is” from The Sky Drops recent album, Bourgeois Beat. Hailing from Delaware, which itself is strange, since the sound has Los Angeles virtually encoded into it, The Sky Drops bring some of the freshest fuzzy psych-pop I’ve heard in quite some time, a sonic smoothie blended together with equal parts Film School, Neil Young, and Blinker the Star.

The duo that comprise The Sky Drops – guitarist Rob Montejo and drummer Monika Bullette – stick to classic shoegaze theory with Bourgeois Beat, keeping it simple and, in doing so, decisive and deliciously bad-ass. These guys aren’t jacking up their sound, adding unnecessary nuance. Instead, they are going to the roots of the genre, which isn’t much of a trek for Montejo, given his former membership in seminal shoegazer band, Smashing Orange. In other words, what you have here are a pair of musicians that know what they want to do and know how to do it, and aren’t gonna get all po-mo glitchy on your ass in order to score a critical point here or there. In other other words, check this shit out, pronto.

While you are at it, check out the video for “Truth Is” – it reminds me of something Godard’s grandson might’ve done after watching
The French Connection and jamming to “Sabotage” on his ipod, en route to the shoot.

YouTube Preview Image

The Sky Drops – Truth Is

The Sky Drops – Swimming with Fishes

strickencity1

Let me be clear, I don’t dance. I never could dance. I never will dance. I am the Sir Nose of dancing. (Put me down, let go my leg, etc.)

Given this, it shouldn’t be surprising for you to learn that I tend not to like “dance” music. (I put that word in quotation marks because one could dance to anything, even silence. Clearly, I’m referring to a particular genre of music. Don’t be coy – you know exactly what I’m talking about. Stop being a contrarian.)

However, when I do like “dance” music, I tend to really like it, almost becoming a secular evangelist (read: my borderline-obsessive and hysterical endorsement of the recent Phenomenal Handclaps album).

Thanks to London group Stricken City, we might have another case of hysterics and obsession on our hands. We won’t know for a little while yet, as they haven’t dropped their album, but judging from their single, “Pull the House Down,” there’s a solid chance.

Even with the four-on-the-floor club beat which is usually an excellent predictor that I will not like a song, “Pull the House Down” possesses a charm and indie edge that overcomes my bias almost immediately. The fact that Rebekah Raa has a voice that combines the throaty poutiness of Victoria Bergstrom with the prettiness of Françoise Hardy doesn’t hurt. Also, maracas. When was the last time they sounded so cool?

Stricken City – Pull the House Down