The Stone interviews Tweedy about the new album and rehab.
Continue reading Rolling Stone Interview with Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy
Ambulance LTD – “Primitive (The Way I Treat You)”
“Primitive (The Way I Treat You)” by Ambulance LTD via Insound. By way of Salon’s Wednesday Morning Download.
Devendra Banhart – Rejoicing in the Hands
Devendra Banhart – Rejoicing in the Hands (Young God)
This summer when the temperature creeps up toward 95° and the air conditioner isn’t cutting it, go sit on your porch and put on Devendra Banhart’s new album Rejoicing in the Hands. Each song is a folk music gem, and the combination of his tremendous guitar plucking and trembling voice provides an emotional weight to this album that few previous lo-fi recordings have come close to achieving.
“This is the Way” is a gentle song that sets up a sequence of warm and spellbinding tunes such as “The Body Breaks” and “Poughkeepsie.” Banhart attains breathtaking heights with “Will is My Friend” as his plucking and a quiet piano combine for a summer night under the stars soundtrack. He even manages to create a rare danceable moment with “This Beard is for Siobhan.” He lets it all out at the end of the song singing “A real good time, good time, a good time.”
Whether it is the dramatic “Fall,” the gorgeous “Todo Los Dolores,” or what equates to anthemic for Banhart, “Insect Eyes,” there is something for everyone on this album. I can’t think of a better album to put on late at night this summer and zone out. You will forget all about the humidity and become all the more aware of why the simple things are what make life worth living.
MP3 of “The Body Breaks” via Young God Records.
Mountain Goats interview
Splendid interviews The Mountain Goats. Via Chromewaves.
Side Effect
“Music was hard work, sure, but it was also supposed to be fun. I developed this conviction early on. It has stood me in good stead ever since.”
“For six weeks I was committed to playing nightly until one in the morning—and then attending classes by day. . . . The money was barely adequate to justify such a senseless pattern, but I didn’t care. I was playing jazz with legends, and enjoying another form of education.”
“I didn’t hang out much with Pee Wee [Charles Russell], Maxie [Max Kaminsky], or Miff [Irving Mole] after the job; they were usually too tired or inebriated to go anywhere. I was shocked when I realized that these world-renowned jazz legends were forced to sleep in grungy third-class hotels. When the gig was over, they faced the prospect of an empty club, empty streets, empty bottles, an empty room. This was a continuous pattern for living.”
“These men had given up most everything that life could offer in order to make their music.”
Li’l Cap’n Travis – I Don’t Wanna Go Out Tonight
Li’l Cap’n Travis – “I Don’t Wanna Go Out Tonight” via the band’s site.
The Delays – Faded Seaside Glamour
The Delays – Faded Seaside Glamour (Rough Trade/Sanctuary)
The Delays arrived on the British pop scene to almost unanimously positive press coverage claiming that despite sounding like a throwback to an earlier generation, the Delays succeed due to their quality. But I just don’t get it. It would be fantastic to hail them as a great, old-fashioned pop group combining style and craft in equal measures, but to these ears, they just aren’t. There are hints, suggestions, occasions when they escape from the constraints of their influences and craft something memorable; “Nearer Than Heaven” is a lovely, blissful daydream of a song and “Long Time Coming” is both melancholic and anthemic, but the rest of the album just gets bogged down, becoming at best forgettable and at worst offensively bland, MOR indie dirge.
It’s a shame because the flashes of greatness come early enough and are good enough to make you believe the Delays could be something special. Maybe they still can be, but sadly Faded Seaside Glamour isn’t the album to do it. To end with a bastardized quote, some bands are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. At the moment the Delays fall broadly into the last category.
Pixies 2004 Setlists
Pixies Live, 2004 – Complete setlists plus torrents. Via Largehearted Boy.
The OC Finale: A Summer Without Summer
Update: If you’re looking for the Season 3 Finale (2006), you can find it here: The Final OC Finale (Finally). If you’re looking for the Season 2 Finale (2005), you can find it here: The OC Finale: Human Chinome Project.
It was Cinco de Mayo, clear and pleasant. All day, inboxes had crackled with speculation, and shout-outs to fave characters. “I hope Oliver comes back!” one pal wrote. “Are we supposed to believe Chino is the father of that baby?” another had demanded to know. Now, a warm evening in the neighborhood found families walking dogs and babies. The college girls were jogging in just their shorts and sports bras. And goatee’d ad reps chatted languidly on porches, discussing the ethical mettle of Sandy Cohen over Sierra Nevadas and cheese. The windows were open at my house, and the ambient drone of a neighbor’s lawn mower shared an aural channel with Seacrest’s sculpted yap. It was difficult to tell if he was speaking English – the vowels seemed right, but the noise was a just a jumble of platitudes and clackering whitestrip teeth. His herd of contestants smiled into the lights of the firing squad as the Black & Decker buzzed in my neighbor’s front yard. “Idol” was ending, and as the faint smell of fertilizer wafted through my window, I realized summer was just beginning. Somewhere, GI Jacque saluted.
Coachella 2004
Never start a road trip by questioning the existence of God. With just a handful of miles traveled, the innocent road trip of five freshly-scrubbed college students had already exploded into a fervent religious debate and an assortment of problems that would steadily snowball into a true-life illustration of Murphy’s Law. The anticipated five-hour drive to Indio, California, and its long-awaited Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival was dotted with wrong turns, lost Frappuccinos, unintentional drives through seedy Los Angeles neighborhoods, and the individual realizations that two pairs of tickets had been left in bedrooms 200 miles away. Eleven hours after crying a jubilant farewell to coed drudgery, we arrived at our destination surly and sleepy. Did God hate us? Or did God hate our pilgrimage towards Radiohead?