As folks start to think about their favorite records of the year, I wanted to shine the spotlight again on one of my own favorites which has unfortunately flown a bit under the radar: Steve Salett's project The Poison Tree. Salett—who also wrote one of the year's best tracks in The Bandana Splits' "Sometimes"—quietly released an intimate treasure last winter sparsely colored with bits of acoustic guitar, upright bass, and jazz-flavored horns. Here's what I wrote back in January:
"The songs on Steve Salett's debut as The Poison Tree are in no hurry to get anywhere. Slow burning and endlessly pondering—like a late night candlelit conversation over a bottle of whiskey—the former frontman of The King of France delivers a collection of stories with his gently emotive and seductive baritone that recalls fellow singer-songwriter greats Leonard Cohen and Bill Callahan. Salett (or, as he refers to himself, Salad) enlisted several excellent New York musicians for the recording process, including Dawn Landes and Thomas Bartlett, and their combined expert execution is evident through each carefully constructed track. Look out for the official release in March on Embarque."
Just when you think the whole singer-songwriter schtick has finally teetered out, a talent like Sharon Van Etten comes along. In the internet's computer-, synth-, and remix-centered climate, it's impressive how much steam Van Etten has been able to generate with just her guitar and achey heartbroken voice. On paper, her personal and emotive brand of musical storytelling represents nothing new, but then you hear that one-of-a-kind voice and instantly everything else melts into irrelevance. For Van Etten's forthcoming third LP Tramp, she received support from the likes of The National's Dessner brothers, Zach Condon of Beirut, and Julianna Barwick. However, this music nerd is particularly excited to hear the added juice of The Walkmen's unequaled drummer Matt Barrick and a few husky-voiced harmonies with Jenn Wasner of Wye Oak, both of which you can preview below in the promising first taste of the LP, "Serpents." Also make sure to check out a few of SVE's older collaborations, including a great Magnetic Fields cover with The Antlers.
The great Friends Records out of Baltimore released its second annual compilation of music from some of the area's best talents on Thanksgiving. The compilation—available now as a free digital download and as a limited edition cassette—features tracks from a host of ET favorites including Future Islands, Lonnie Walker, Moss of Aura, Celebration, and Lands & Peoples. But even more exciting is the potential for discovering new favorites, and for me, that's been the smokey jangle and strut of "Weepy Little Fingers" by Secret Mountains.
There's nothing more rock and roll than the three-piece, especially the drum, bass, and guitar combo: straight shots of pounding rhythm and melody with every frill and decoration thrown out the window. The latest release from Oakland's Bare Wires, the 10-song 10" Cheap Perfume, is the perfect example: these songs don't just play, they fire out of the gate at lightning speed, never once looking back over their should nor outstaying their welcome (only one track breaks the three-minute barrier). Formed in 2007 as a side project of Matthew Melton, Bare Wires has since turned into a full-time gig with a string of releases under its belt, including two LPs—Artificial Clouds and Seeking Love—a handful of 7"s and one incredible flexi disc (see: "I Wanna Fight"). Cheap Perfume picks up right where Melton and company left off last, churning out garage-born glam-rock and punk-informed gem after gem, from the anthemic "Don't Ever Change" to the muted-guitar roar of "Television Girls" and rhythmic power-pop tornado of "Ain't Worth Walking Away." Bare Wires have the rare ability to make the listener feel cooler while listening to their music: you could be wearing socks, sandals, and sweatpants, but pump Cheap Perfume and suddenly it's boots, a leather jacket, and a snugly fitting pair of jeans. It's an intoxicating cocktail that recalls all that's fun about rock and roll. There's momentary glimpses of influences like T. Rex and The Ramones (some of those hand claps have me thinking Gary Glitter), but the songs unquestionably belong to Melton, and two choruses into this record as you find yourself pounding your feet and singing along, you'll agree.
Nashville's now defunct MEEMAW was an all-star trio that featured soon-to-be Infinity Cat regulars Daniel Pujol of PUJOL, Wez Traylor of Natural Child, and Jessica McFarland of Heavy Cream. Considering ET's adoration for Natural Child's debut LP 1971 and Pujuol'sNasty, Brutish, and Short (and really all things Infinity Cat), I did some digging this morning and gave MEEMAW's debut Glass Elevator a listen—and this shit is wild. Dirty southern rock is an apt descriptor, but it doesn't really go far enough. This record's full of fuzz, gnar, and debauchery. Take Wez's the graphic and hilarious "Smoking In The Sun," which boasts the lyrics, "Whole milk, red meat, smoking in the sun," and later, "Diet Coke, ranch dressing, sweet tea God's blessing." As simplistic as those lines are, there's something about the combination of red meat, the sun, and cigarette smoke that creates an incredibly vivid and disturbing snapshot of southern life. Another standout is Pujol's snappy "Blue In The Blacklight," which shows off the young songwriter's talent for churning out fuzzy pop-punk nuggets. The band's split makes sense considering each musician is now excelling in their own groups, however, this short-lived collaboration is absolutely worth revisiting, if for nothing else than as a lively beer-splattered origin story.
Infinity Cat has a MEEMAW combo (a 7", CD, and poster) for just $5 here.
Here's an absolutely killer cut from the relatively obscure Neo Boys, a group named for this Patti Smith phrase and touted as one of Portland, Oregon's first all-female punk groups. "Time Keeps Time" is taken from the 1982 EP Crumbling Myths, one of only two releases by the band along with their self-titled 1980 7". The punchy persistent drums and at turns surf-inspired and muted guitars of "Time Keeps Time" create an unsteady and irresistible wave-like force teeming with electricity. Big thanks to ET favorites Grass Widow for this introduction. The San Francisco-based band's recent Milo Minute 7" includes a cover of "Time Keeps Time," which you can procure right here from the band's own HLR Records.
Los Cinco Latinos—I know, not the most creative band name—formed in Buenos Aires, Argentina in 1957 and became pioners of Latin rock by singing all of their songs in Spanish and eventually making it onto the Ed Sullivan Show. I came across the band via director Whit Stillman's film Barcelona—part of the trilogy that also includes Metropolitan and The Last Days of Disco—which features the wonderful doo wop-inspired song "Quiéreme Siempre." Blissful is an understatement here. The track, which translates to "love me always," is a blazing jolt of pure happiness. The descending clean-toned guitar riff and the near operatic-quality of Estela Raval's voice are potent weapons: you hit play and all the sudden you're transported to someplace a little brighter, a little warmer.
"To Every Man His Chimera," a song off Humor Risk, Cass McCombs' second full-length of 2011, unfortunately does not refer to a world where every man has his own fire-breathing lion-goat-serpent as a pet. Instead, 'chimera' here refers to an illusion fabricated by the mind, and in this case, it's one that haunts the narrator: "Not you again, I thought you died. / I thought you were killed on your wedding night." The track is a standout, not only for its peculiar title, but as one of Humor Risk's most potent moments and McCombs' best of the year, perhaps only following the unparalleled "County Line."
It turns out "To Every Man His Chimera" (also sometimes translated as "To Each His Chimera") is a poem in prose by French poet Charles Baudelaire. In the short work, a narrator watches a group of Roman soldiers pass by, each with giant chimeras adorning their armor. The narrator notes the soldiers consider the chimera a part of themselves and he wonders what affect it has on the men. Here's the work's last line: "but soon irresistible Indifference descended upon me, and I was more cruelly oppressed by its weight than those men had been by their crushing Chimeras." Sort of a cruel joke, right? Chimeras often come up in literature as projections of fears that men manufacture. In McCombs' own song, it's difficult to pin down the exact meaning: is the dead subject that returns a ghost or a projection of the narrator's? Is there a different narrator between the verse and the chorus, where 'Mary' is addressed? "I don't need a host to live," Cass sings in the chorus, and perhaps that Alien-esque imagery is coming from the mouth of the chimera itself?
What's unquestionable here is the quality of the songwriting and McComb's knack for imagery in his lyrics. Try the line "Peel of the latex fair-weather friend, is that supposed to be a nose?" or "California makes me sick, like trying with a rattlesnake your teeth to pick." Interspersed between McCombs' lyrics are background conversations, voice messages, dropped change, a dog barking, and small other clamoring noises. It's a dynamic and familiar setting sound-wise, as if Cass is playing right in the middle of a family's living room, invisible to all but the listener. Maybe the song itself is the chimera?
"She shot me with her eyes / knocked me to the floor / it shocked me to realize / we'd crossed paths sometime before," sings Brad Hargett over a chug of acoustic guitar, colossal bursts of organ, and enough reverb to make your closet sound like a cave the size of Madison Square Garden. The song, "Dark Eyes," is the opener on the Crystal Stilts' excellent new 5-song EP Radiant Door, out tomorrow via Sacred Bones. It's an experimental batch of tracks, from the Spaghetti Western guitars on "Still As The Night" to the wandering and lonesome hypnotic twang of "Frost Inside The Asylum," but thanks to topnotch craft and execution, every note and effect here feel deliberate and fully realized. While some bands use reverb as a protective cloak, Hargett and company are more like sculptors, extremely conscious of the shape of their music as they mold it through various lenses, waves, and tunnels of sound.
As you may have noticed, I've got a thing for The Walkmen—and yes—I write about them quite a bit. The latest news is the fellas are releasing their 2002 debut on vinyl for the first time in a limited pressing of 1,000. The band's sound on Everyone Who Pretended To Like Me Is Gone is often unpredictable, grand, and lush, which initially drew comparisons to the likes of The Cure and U2—a far cry from the minimalist 50s and 60s American rock informed palette of Lisbon, the group's most recent LP. Yet, Everyone Who Pretended To Like Me Is Gone is still unquestionably a Walkmen record: from Hamilton Leithauser's howls to the thick reverberations of pounding drums, organ, and guitars, the young band expertly balanced sophistication and clarity with drips of confusion and chaos. The title-track, which I previously called one of the decade's most underappreciated tracks, is an especially invigorating and exciting song that to this day remains one of the band's best.
Portland's Radiation City first caught my attention back in June with the excellent single "The Color of Industry," which I called "a Fruit Stripe-caliber stick of variegated pop bubblegum that absolutely bursts with flavor in its nods to lush Phil Spector production and girl-group harmonies." Though nothing else in the band's debut The Hands That Takes You hits as immediately as "The Color of Industry," there are plenty more richly rewarding pop moments, including the beautiful slow-burner "Construction" and the steady build of analog buzz on album standout "Babies." Last spring, after a breakfast of fried chicken and waffles, Portland videographers Into The Woods captured a beautiful live rendition of "Babies" in the band's home. Check it out after the jump.
Divine Providence may not be Deer Tick's Mona Lisa or magnum opus—personally, I'm still partial to War Elephant and Born On Flag Day—but it's still a hell of a record. For the past 7 or so years, the John McCauley-fronted Providence band have been building a loyal and increasingly large fan base around rabid, fearsome, and often unpredictable liveshows. Divine Providence is the band's first attempt at capturing that raw energy on record.
The first time I saw Deer Tick live was at a free show in Portland. The band ripped through three sets over three-and-a-half hours, playing both armfuls of originals and classic covers by the likes of John Mellencamp, Ritchie Valens, Tom Petty, and The Replacements. The set ended with a sloppy rendition of The Beatles' "With A Little Help From My Friends." Alls those beers and Jack and Cokes had caught up with the band by the final song, and instead of finishing it, former guitarist Andy Tobiassen kicked McCauley from on top of an amp down into the drum kit with a loud crash. It was an aptly disheveled rock and roll finish for a night that had me believing again in the power of dirty guitars, pounding drums, and narrative storytelling.
Johnny Jewel and Ida No, otherwise known as the glam-fueled Italo-disco revivalists Glass Candy, have released one of the best singles of the year in the stunning "Warm In The Winter" 12". Jewel's synth work is blazingly fast—arpeggios cranked to the speed of light—and No's lyrics and singing are both joyously blissful and hilarious. Like it's title suggests, this is a dance track to cozy up with in the coming cold winter months when you need that extra dose of sunshine. And now the track has the appropriately sunny visuals to accompany it via footage from the Portland band's west coast tour this past summer. Watch it after the jump.
La Piscine, an invitation by Laetitia Sadier To keep on swimming is a water-themed collaborative project released as a limited edition 12" on Wool Records this past September. Laetitia Sadier, of Stereolab fame, put this five-song release together with friends Richard Swift, Rebecca Gates, and Superbravo. One of Sadier's two tracks, "Resistance dans l'ombre," which translates to "resistance in the shadows," has been on repeat around the Everybody Taste headquarters for the past month. The insistent decayed percussive beat and faucet-like drip of the synths form a wonderfully hypnotic and sparse canvas for Sadier's voice, which simultaneously feels intimate, rough, and yes, a bit sexy. I have no clue whether the project is inspired by or named after the 1969 French film La Piscine (The Swimming Pool), but it seems worth mentioning.
While Wool Records is sold out of the 12", you can still nab it from Rough Trade.
Last year, former Dr. Dog drummer Juston Stens branched out with a promising EP of original material as Juston Stens & The Get Real Gang. I've been a huge fan of Stens since he first introduced me to Floating Action via his pitch-perfect cover of "Don't Stop Loving Me Now." Stens is now back in writing and recording mode, though this time under a different set of circumstances. He's creating his first full length album by way of his 1972 Triumph motorcycle, stopping in a dozen cities across the country to collaborate with musicians and friends. The stops span coast to coast with a host of Everybody Taste favorites like Jim Eno of Spoon, Seth Kauffman of Floating Action, Kelley Darlin of Those Darlins, Bill Baird of Sunset, and Jessica Lea Mayfield. Later in December, Stens will be in California visiting with the likes of Delta Spirit, Gardens and Villa, and Jeremy Black of Apollo Sunshine. It's hard to imagine this won't be an exceptional batch of songs, especially with all the time Stens will have isolated on his bike to think about the music and lyrics. And yes, a project this independent and creative needs funding, so please check out its Kickstarter.
I've been a huge fan of Baltimore's Lands & Peoples since back in 2009 when the group released its stunning debut EP. The band, now whittled down to the nucleus of Caleb Moore and Beau Cole, has a dynamic sound built over intricately picked guitar lines, splashy near-improvised percussion, and soaring vocal harmonies. While Lands & Peoples gear up to officially release their debut LP, a few lush live recordings have surfaced, including a set from Baltimore's Metro Gallery, and more recently, a stunning intimate performance recorded at Mobtown Studios. Moore and Cole both have considerable pipes and when unleashed together in harmony it forms the band's defining sound, which engineer Paul Mercer captured at Mobtown with beautiful clarity. (Photo by Sam Ray)
So far, the only fault I've found with Future Islands' soaring LP On The Water is that its vinyl version doesn't include the beautifully put together "Crish," a collaboration between the band and Brooklyn duo Javelin. Here's the story behind the track from Future Islands: "Crish is a song that was recorded for On the Water but the lyrics weren't completed in time to make the cut. We asked Javelin if they would do a remix of it for a bonus track. At this point, we're not sure if our version of 'Crish' will ever see the light of day, but we really love what Javelin did with it... I feel like it's more of a collaboration than a remix." For the record, the lyrics came out pretty fantastic. It's also refreshing to hear a lighter and less dramatic vocal take atop Gerrit Welmers' typically stupendous synth work.
Here's an absolutely killer cut from the relatively obscure Neo Boys, a group named for this Patti Smith 
