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Rock Bottom

So I missed Total Bummer 2010 in Gainesville this weekend, and I’m a little sad all over myself. It really just slipped my mind. Now my days are staring at the ceiling, thinking it the sur­face of the sea above me. I like thinking about being under­water more than being under­water, and I appre­ciate songs that fur­nish the feeling (like the one I’m about to post).

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Here We Go Magic’s upcoming record is called Pigeons and, just like the Good­feathers, it’s filled to the gullet with choice savory bits. Brook­lynite Luke Temple and his new friends sound a bit like Mice Parade, but in the spirit of acts like Camper Van Beethoven, the whole thing feels totally dif­ferent from one track to the next (although not in that creepy Res­i­dents kind of way).

Here We Go Magic — “Bottom Feeder”

Bottom Feeder” comes midway through the album, and sounds like nothing else that pre­cedes or fol­lows it; in an album with all this unbound het­eroglossia, its kinda nice to arrive at the center with some­thing simple and sweet. The track also adds to a long lin­eage of songs about guys likening them­selves to crappy sea crit­ters — Robert Wyatt’s “Sea Song,” Jets to Brazil’s “Sea Anemone,” Prince’s “Soft and Wet” — but dodges the mopey splash for a shim­mery slow dance. It actu­ally sounds a bit like Low but plus synth and kinda romantic.

Secretly Cana­dian says June 8th’ll be the day to get all your wonk-boogie and navel­gazery out.

Image coutesy of but does it float.

The Besnard Lakes Are the Subject of Our Latest Post

Have you ever read George R. R. Martin’s tran­scen­dent fan­tasy series A Song of Ice and Fire? I don’t much go in for fan­tasy, but this one came highly rec­om­mended. After reading the first volume I remember telling Ben, our res­i­dent sci-fi geek, that I liked it but sort of wished the story had taken place on a gay space­ship or some­thing. But by the second volume, well… I was hooked.

When I saw the cover of the Besnard Lakes’ new album, The Besnard Lakes Are the Roaring Night, I was imme­di­ately trans­ported to the epic Battle of the Black­water, where basi­cally every­thing gets torched with fucking medieval napalm. I’m with­holding judg­ment on the album as a whole, but the standout track “Alba­tross” spits hot fire. Woozy MBV sheets of dis­tor­tion, Pet Sounds har­monies, even a bit of nar­co­tized swagger from the Velvet Under­ground. Swirl it together and you get the sound of taking some­thing cool and set­ting it aflame.

The Besnard Lakes — “Albatross”

The album was released ear­lier this month, and you can buy it now if “Alba­tross” tickles your fancy. Also be sure to check out their pre­vious record, The Besnard Lakes Are the Dark Horse, because it’s totally rad.

you won’t remember a thing

Let me con­fess some­thing. I tend to avoid pop­ular bands. All else being equal, I’m pretty sure I would like a band less just because it is pop­ular. I realize that sounds ter­rible, and no, it’s not to pre­serve my “hip­ster cred” or any­thing like that. Basi­cally, I want to like bands that I can see in small venues. Bands that are made up of real, acces­sible people who per­haps even have day jobs. Bands that, just for example, you can watch from two feet away in a crowded Boston bar.

light shop aweAs you might remember from my last post, I under­took a journey to the Bay State (yeah, I looked that up just now) to see the Vivian Girls. In a bit of unknowing fore­shad­owing, I men­tioned in passing that a lot of the locals had no idea who the Vivian Girls were and had come to see another band entirely: You Can Be a Wesley. This was the first thing that intrigued me about this band. The second was that their songs were damned catchy. Upon returning home, I was happy to find their album on iTunes, and after a listen I decided this was a band I should write about.

But what to write? There was little infor­ma­tion to be found. And then I remem­bered why I go to see bands like this in the first place. One email later and the vocalist, Saara (who should obv. get together with Niina and start some kind of club) had agreed to answer my silly questions.

So enough of my bull­shit. I’ll let You Can Be a Wesley speak for themselves:



1. First, the inevitable ques­tion: Who or what is Wesley?

A Wesley is what­ever you want it to be. Not in a way like, “You Can Be What­ever You Want To Be” but more like, what­ever story you’re going to make up in your head about what you think our name means, or what a Wesley is, is prob­ably more inter­esting than if we told you. So we’ll keep you in the dark because it’s more fun for both par­ties that way. Maybe we should have a con­test where people write in and tell us what they think it is and we give a prize to the best answer. I just came up with that now but I like it so I think we’ll do it.

2. How did you guys meet and get together into a band?

We all met in col­lege at Boston Uni­ver­sity and we all lived in the West Campus dorms. The first time we were all together in the same place was at the Islands show at the Y in Cen­tral Sq in Cam­bridge. No one smelled bad so we decided we should jam around together. Our first record­ings were done in a dorm base­ment and Dan was playing drums on boxes.

3. It seems like every time someone writes about your band, you’re com­pared to the Pixies. Are they in fact an influ­ence on your band? What would you con­sider to be your biggest influences?

I think people really hear the Pixies in Nick’s bass playing. I know that they were a big influ­ence to him and when he learned how to play bass I think he took a lot from lis­tening to Kim Deal. Saying our biggest influ­ences is hard because we all listen to dif­ferent things and have over­lap­ping inter­ests. I know at one point it was Arcade Fire, Broken Social Scene, Dinosaur Jr., New Order. At another it was Envelopes, The Shins, The Ven­tures, My Bloody Valen­tine. It really changes all the time depending on what we’re lis­tening to at the moment. I like it better when people ask me this ques­tion when I have some time to think about it cause when­ever people ask me on the spot I freeze up and I can’t think of a single band I listen to. It’s like I can’t even remember that I listen to music at all. And then I go home and think of all the things I could have said to sound really cool and interesting.

4. Your single “Crea­tures” seemed to quickly result in a lot of pos­i­tive atten­tion in the media. Between that and your album, Heard Like Us, a lot of people are very excited about what you’re doing. How does it feel to make that tran­si­tion from “local band” to more wide­spread recognition?

I’m still always sur­prised when I hear of people knowing about us or talking about us out­side of Boston! I think the thing we were most sur­prised about is when this guy from Sweden who runs a Swedish Music mag­a­zine called Devo­tion sent us an email asking for an inter­view and said “Crea­tures” was on the top 20 songs of 2009. We were like “how the hell did this guy hear our stuff in Sweden?!” It was really awe­some. If we blew up in Sweden I would be totally OK with that. I guess that’s the beauty of the internet.

You Can Be a Wesley — “Creatures”

Crea­tures” starts with a pretty great drums-and-bass opening, but as with all of their songs, the vocals stand out the most to me. Saara’s unique, almost brittle-sounding vocals were the first thing I really noticed about the band, par­tic­u­larly com­bined with her ability to throw in that extra bit of energy at just the right moments. This is one of the songs I dis­tinctly remember hearing when I saw them in Boston, and the chorus there was simply explo­sive with an incred­ible response from the crowd. This is the song that seems to have gained the band the most recog­ni­tion, and it’s well-deserved. Have a look at the music video.


5. I’m intrigued by the mes­sage that’s apparent in some of your songs; for instance, “Make Up Your God.” What do you hope for people to hear in this song, or in your music in general?

I don’t really write the lyrics for anyone else but myself. I mean of course I want to make them inter­esting and thoughtful and aurally pleasing so that people can con­nect to them, and it gives the songs more depth, but I never write thinking “I have this mes­sage and I want to preach it to people.” In “Make Up Your God” it was some­thing that I was thinking a lot about during that time. Death and the after­life and orga­nized reli­gion. I think I had recently read Dharma Bums and was get­ting into some alter­na­tive thinking and that song was a state­ment on how I felt about the kind of opiate of the masses that orga­nized reli­gion has become (or maybe always was).
I do remember writing the second verse of that song after coming home from one of the best week­ends of my life. I had gone to see the most epic show at Randal’s Island in New York with two of my best girl friends. It was Les Savy Fav, Blonde Red­head, LCD Sound System, and Arcade Fire. Then we went to some ridicu­lous ware­house party in BK and our minds were just blown. That weekend made me feel a lot better about every­thing. That’s what it’s all about.

You Can Be a Wesley — “Make Up Your God”

I liked this song within its first ten sec­onds and, although this is prob­ably not some­thing that someone who writes about music should admit, I’m not sure I could prop­erly artic­u­late why. It man­ages to be the most soothing song I’ve ever heard about not believing in some­thing. That is, until the jump in energy in the chorus, which also makes this the most upbeat song I know of about not believing in some­thing. For a lot of people, I imagine that the words in the chorus (“The truth is you leave in the same way you came / You won’t remember a thing”) might stand in oppo­si­tion to the thor­oughly pos­i­tive place the song comes from, but for me it totally works. This song also has a music video.


6. I saw you play on March 8th. You guys seemed to be having a great time on stage and the crowd def­i­nitely loved it. For the majority of us who never expe­ri­ence it, what’s it like to play for an audi­ence excited about your music?

There’s nothing better than playing for an audi­ence who is into what you’re doing. It can really make or break a show. It makes us play better and we feed off the energy from the crowd. We’re excited about what we are doing and we believe in the music we are making so when we see that excite­ment returned it’s really gratifying.

7. Your band spent a few months on hiatus while you guys were spread across the world. I’ve read repeat­edly in the Boston press that you came back with a dif­ferent sound. How has your music changed since you started, and what do you see your­selves doing next?

That hiatus was some­thing that we all felt like we needed to do. It was our chance to live in another country with pretty much every­thing taken care of by our school. We knew that if we were going to commit our­selves to this band then this was the time for us to get away before we had to settle down. We joke that the band is like a mar­ried couple and we decided to get mar­ried, we recently moved into a big house together and we got a kid. Well not a human kid, but a really sweet van. It’s our big baby.
Our music has changed a lot since we started. A lot is prob­ably to do with where we were prac­ticing and the equip­ment we had. If we wrote a song with an acoustic guitar in a dorm room it’s going to sound like a twee-pop quiet folky song. If we write in our prac­tice space now with our big amps and pedals and all that it’s going to come out a lot louder. The changes are all pretty organic. We’ve never said “hey let’s change our sound, this isn’t working.” We just let what comes out come out and then develop the song from there. Some­times it will be com­pletely dif­ferent than what you first expected of it but it sounds awe­some so you just let it do its thing.

8. What’s in the imme­diate future for You Can Be a Wesley?

We’re doing a North East tour at the end of April hit­ting Mon­tréal, Burlington, Northampton, Prov­i­dence, New London, New York, and Philly. We’re also writing a ton of new songs and have a full album’s worth of mate­rial and more in the works. Part of that will be recorded very very soon but we’re still fig­uring out how we want to release it, whether it be a single at a time or an EP or a full length. We’re going with the flow at this point but we’re very excited about every­thing that we’re making and doing.


Seeing these guys play is a great expe­ri­ence, so keep an eye out if you’re near any of the above places. Until then, you can check out their album, Heard Like Us, avail­able on the band’s web­site. Give my other favorites, “Stuck in a Battle” and “Rearrange The Sea,” a listen while you’re there. Many thanks to You Can Be a Wesley for answering my ques­tions, and I wish them the best of luck with their tour and upcoming recordings.

Don’t Worry About the Future — Joel’s 2009 Mix

I’m taking the Ben approach to my post this week and doing a recap of some under­rated hits from “the past”: up first, my most recent times, ’09. Since I have to show some dis­cre­tion, a bunch of good tunes got cut here – I really can’t jus­tify putting any­thing from Explorers or Second Family Band (unless you wanna listen in for another 92 min­utes), and though I love Forget the Night Ahead, putting the Twi­light Sad on any mix is kinda like pooping in the spe­cial water at com­mu­nion. This may not work as the most rep­re­sen­ta­tive 2009 mix out there today, but I hope it encour­ages readers to seek out these albums.


01. Crypta­cize — “My Tho­mania”
from Mytho­mania (Asth­matic Kitty, 2009)

They’ve got Nedelle and what’s-his-face from Deer­hoof. And tracks like “Blue Tears” and “” are just too much fun to leave for the last decade. “My Tho­mania,” which can (but prob­ably shouldn’t) be treated as the title track for the album, con­tributes to a ver­i­table potluck of –manias going on in 09, “Lisz­to­mania” being a prin­cipal one, but also the lesser-known and rarely-acknowledged “Tulipo­mania” that I found at a used book store this past weekend being also impor­tant. Just listen for the chorus. [Buy]


02. The Post­marks — “My Lucky Charm”
from Mem­oirs at the End of the World (Unfil­tered Records, 2009)

Remember how I said I didn’t like Acid House Kings? Well, I think I cracked a bit on that posi­tion after my friend Eric D. put Mem­oirs on a few weeks ago. Like the Kings, the Post­marks craft pop like it’s some­thing you sneeze out occa­sion­ally. Oh look, another perfect-pop booger. It’s like that. If this song doesn’t make your tears pink then something’s not working right. [Buy]


03. Cotton Jones — “Gone the Bells”
from Para­noid Cocoon (Sui­cide Squeeze, 2009)

It’s the guy from Page France being all mopey, but it works. Even the most des­o­late tracks like “Gone the Bells” have a shimmer and bounce about them, that the entire album comes off bright-headed from a slow-burned haze. Appar­ently, the full band title is/was “The Cotton Jones Basket Ride,” which I’m starting to think describes a trav­elin’ sen­sa­tion buried some­where on this record. [Buy]


04. Nurses — “Lita”
from Apple’s Acre (Dead Oceans, 2009)

Sim­plicity is strategy on Apple’s Acre. The entire record is built on vocal har­monies and light per­cus­sion. In many ways, it feels like Two Dancers turned inside-out: the same morbid curiosi­ties occupy Nurses, and the insis­tent pull of rhythm and melody is at once haunting and mes­mer­izing. “Lita” is my favorite track, and it’ll be yours too soon enough. [Buy]


05. Hayden — “Let’s Break Up”
from The Place Where We Lived (Hard­wood Records, 2009)

There’s no bad Hayden album, and there’s no bad Hayden song. I think Hayden fans have come to expect this from him year after year, which is why The Place Where We Live is some­what dis­ap­pointing. So I guess I’ve included “Let’s Break Up” on that prin­ciple alone: it’s yet another charming Hayden nar­ra­tive about coin­ci­dence, failure, and self-deprecation. Even though you could call all that a big whiney com­plaint, thing is, I wouldn’t want it any other way. [Buy]


06. The Love Lan­guage — “Sparxxx”
from Self-Titled (Merge, 2009)

Not to be con­fused with that band I mix’d about back in Feb., The Love Lan­guage is a fron­tispiece for Stuart McLamb’s four-track record­ings. Here McLamb’s booming, the­atrical affec­ta­tion butts heads with micro­man­aged orches­tra­tion and that washed-out (fre­quently clip­ping) ten­dency of the high peaks on record. Overall this is a fun listen, and if you’re inter­ested check out “Lalita,” “Noc­turne” and “Night­dogs” as well. [Buy]


07. Hanne Hukkel­berg — “Bandy Rid­dles”
from Blood from a Stone (Net­twerk, 2009)

I don’t get this song, but I like it. I think she’s Nor­we­gian or some­thing, and her other albums are sup­posed to be insta-hit mate­rial, so check those out after you listen to “Bandy Rid­dles.” Also, this album takes the album cake for coolest album cover on the mix, with runner-up being them dogs in Dog Day, fea­tured in the stuff that fol­lows this stuff. [Buy]


08. Dog Day — “Rome”
from Con­cen­tra­tion (Out­side Music, 2009)

Dr. Dog Dies in Hot Car” – head­line, or another ter­rible band name involving dogs? Hah! Alright anyway I like Dog Day, in part because they seem cool as fuck all, but also because they sound like they seem. Con­cen­tra­tion got little to no press last year, even though it’s jammed to the gills with great tracks like the stoned “Judg­ment Day” and per­iled tale “Neighbor” (sounding a bit like Beauty Pill here in that exchange of vocal duties and eerie emphasis on house par­ties with demons). Another band with that uncanny ability to sound like every other band that sounds like New Order and still find some­thing to do dif­ferent. As they say over at AMG, highly rec­om­mended. [Buy]


09. The Wooden Birds — “Seven Sev­en­teen”
from Mag­nolia (Barsuk, 2009)

Make no mis­take, this is the latest Amer­ican Analog Set record. On “Seven Sev­en­teen,” Andrew’s hushed voice is still smooth as glass, and the palm-muted, strummed per­cus­sion sets the pace to heart­beat. Just cue Leslie on backing vocals and bring in some thick tremolo. Beau­tiful song, beau­tiful album; expect nothing less from these folk. [Buy]


10. Jonathan Johansson — “Säg Vad Ni Vill”
from En Hand I Himlen (Hybris Records, 2009)

Jonathan Johansson, for lack of a better intro­duc­tion, is from another world. His music is thor­oughly engaging, often spir­ited and tri­umphant, and lyri­cally incom­pre­hen­sible to most of his admiring audi­ence. He’s def­i­nitely not an alien, but his music man­ages to sound oth­er­worldly while rooting that unfa­mil­iarity of lan­guage in a familiar cul­tural nos­talgia; Jonathan’s point-by-point reduc­tion of 1980s electro-pop titans into his own earnest com­po­si­tions res­onates with the sounds of the era while somehow tran­scending the period alto­gether. I love this record from start to finish; it feels like I’ve known every melody on it for quite some time, and I plan to enjoy them for years to come. [Buy]


Get a good mix here: [Multi­u­pload]

I’m done for today’s post, but I’ll be back some­time next week. I’d like to return to 2008 in April with another mix. See you in that time and place.

how I spent my two and a half years in the wilderness, pt. 1

Hey there, loyal readers. Yes, all three of you! It’s me, Ben. How are you? Oh, that’s good. Me? I’m just fine, thanks. I recently got a haircut and a sand­wich and my very own pair of shoes!

You know, it feels like it’s been years since I saw you. What’s that? It has? But how can that be?

Well, Niina wasn’t far off when she inti­mated that it has been an “unmu­sical” couple of years since Girl­pants faded from rel­a­tive obscu­rity to the blackest depths of the internet. The past year has been per­haps the most unmu­sical of my life–I think I lis­tened to less than a dozen albums total before the Christ­mas­time arrival of my ridicu­lously named new media device by a cer­tain soft­ware titan caused me to go on an tunes-acquisition spree. I’ve dis­cov­ered some remark­able things since then (lookin’ at you, jj), but in gen­eral my tastes are still hope­lessly stuck in 2007.

That said, I do think there have been some excel­lent albums released in the inter­vening months. A few dozen have really stuck with me from the dark years, when I was living under the freeway and des­per­ately trading opin­ions for sand­wich crusts. In my next few posts I’m going to high­light a few of these, for your lis­tening enjoy­ment and the preser­va­tion of my ever-dwindling sanity.


Menomena — Friend and Foe (Barsuk, 2007)
Menomena - Friend and FoeThis is a band that makes straight up inter­esting indie rock music. I know… them’s some big words, right? Listen: Menomena aren’t trying to go back to nature or create the synes­thetic equiv­a­lent of an acid trip or create a sonic tapestry of all 50 of our glo­ri­ously star-spangled states. No–they just want to make some cool sounds that no one else has made before. In that way, they remind me of The Flaming Lips, but without the druggy noodling and overly bom­bastic world­making. Much was made at the time of this album’s release about the band’s recording strategy. Appar­ently, they create their songs in loops on custom soft­ware before trans­forming those arranged loops into live per­for­mances (you can get more info here). The result is music that’s unusu­ally com­plex and lay­ered for this sort of indie rock–John Vanderslice’s studio wiz­ardry comes close, but it’s got a dif­ferent aim. In Friend and Foe, drums skitter along to techno-like beats, sev­eral guitar tracks scrape stac­cato over one another, pianos zoom in and out of the fore­ground. It’s a truly big sound. [Buy]

Menomena — “Wet and Rusting”


Richard Hawley — Lady’s Bridge (Mute U.S., 2007)
A long­time col­lab­o­rator of fellow sleazy-voiced Brit Jarvis Cocker and his band of mer­ry­making men and wom­en­folk, Richard Hawley is a honey-voiced singer in the great tra­di­tion of the 20th Century’s uncounted bal­ladeers. Occa­sion­ally he picks up a rock­a­billy or a doo-wop touch, but for the most part Hawley’s songs are vel­vety smooth and achingly quiet, but entirely without pre­ten­sion. They’re songs of love and loss, and on Lady’s Bridge they flow with a master’s touch. This is the per­fect album for an evening at home, curled up with a glass of your favorite scotch and the sort of arti­fi­cially illu­mi­nated memory of a past, lost love. He’s put out a new album since this one, called Truelove’s Gutter, but I haven’t found my way to hearing it yet. Hope­fully soon. [Buy]

Richard Hawley — “Lady Solitude”


The Besnard Lakes — The Besnard Lakes are the Dark Horse (Jag­jaguwar, 2007)
The Besnard Lakes get lots of com­par­isons to their more pop­ular fellow Mon­tréal… eans? ites? ers?… I dunno… Anyway, I’m talking about The Arcade Fire. Such com­par­isons are really unfair. Sure, both are good at anthemic, arena-sized rock ‘n roll, but The Besnard Lakes are a much rawer, much more heart­felt (rather than heart-considered) act. Every song on this album breathes with a kind of pas­sion and vision rarely heard in modern indie rock, raw around the edges but incred­ible sure­footed son­i­cally. Great big riffs of feed­back and dis­tor­tion crash over the lis­tener repeat­edly, backed by huge cho­ruses and lay­ered vocals, and simple but tried and true rock ‘n roll song struc­tures. And man, those drums… These guys have a new album coming out this year that (at least some small part of) the internet is all abuzz about. [Buy]

The Besnard Lakes — “Devastation”


I’ll be back soon with the ones that stuck with me from 2008, a year that saw me con­structing a home out of dis­carded hub­caps and Big Mac wrap­pers at the con­flu­ence of Inter­states 75 and 85. Look for­ward to it!