Franz Nicolay – Luck and Courage

When Franz Nicolay left The Hold Steady, he commented in an interview with Paste that, “They [The Hold Steady] have their one big idea – making literate, wordy lyrics over big anthemic rock – and the last two records were about as good as I felt like I could do with that idea.” Obviously honest and without any disdain in any sense, Nicolay was blunt in admitting that he wanted to explore new grounds and revelations. During his departure from the band, Nicolay was – amongst other activities –a touring member of Against Me! and has seemingly tried to break away from the ties that he at point, was established upon.

Surprising to most, Luck and Courage marks Nicolay’s now third solo album to date. His previous affair, Major General, was as some would call it “a solid rock album, from top to bottom” that eventually left much to be desired in terms of overall durability. It wasn’t the kind of album that would call out for repeated listens and in many ways, it definitely wasn’t the kind of album that would separate Nicolay away from The Hold Steady. Now, with a sound that has notably enhanced since that album, Luck and Courage – again, most likely surprising to most – also marks a period where Nicolay is writing longstanding, solid music.

A lot of the album’s warm tones come from the sheer use of a solid rhythm section. Nicolay would state that while Lyle Lovett’s I Love Everybody was an influence for the album’s soothing production, in terms of sounds this is surely not the kind of music that one would refer to as ‘bar rock.’ But finally, references to The Hold Steady aside, Nicolay showcases a cunning ability of song craft on many of the song’s turning paces. On “Job 35:10,” the soft strum of an acoustic guitar and subtle floor drum evoke a swell of tender moments. Nicolay sounds affectingly caring and with the addition of a timely string section, the mood is superbly crafted. The sequencing works wonders to the album’s unexpectedly great flow; “James Ensor Redeemed” plays off a creatively mysterious piano line and paired with the former, they ultimately portray a giftedly strong sound.

Although Nicolay prefers to be more direct than anything else (the cover and title being directly obvious and still, ironic), the music is endearing because of the genuine demeanor the musician fills his music with. With the banjo, accompanying female vocal and the lonely guitar twang, “This is Not a Pipe” sounds like the channeling of Drive-By Truckers and honestly, you can never go wrong with that. Nicolay is able to both attempt a new sound – on what is nothing more than a sincere country shuffle – and fairly do the style justice with a successfully strong amount of personality and skill.

And don’t be mistaken, there’s still pounding, fist-pumping moments (“My Criminal Uncle”) where we can still get a taste for those spirited piano rolls, except this time they sound even more polished and substantial than before. Together, there is a lot to fall back on and for Nicolay, a multitude of interesting directions to go from here. One thing’s for sure, Luck and Courage is a defining improvement for Nicolay and an album that will surely gain a new surge of fans with its compelling styles and sounds.

Team Science Records

El Guincho – Pop Negro

Is El Guincho the primogenitor of chillwave? The Spanish producer was making his watery, carnival-esque tunes long before 2009’s explosion of whitey bedroom-pop. His hyperactive, childlike beats and watery voice sound a lot more epochal now than they did a few years ago – giving the listener a glance into a foreign childhood, incorporating the vibrancy and half-remembered sounds a toddler’s mind picks up. He’s returned in 2010 with another entry in his pre-developed sonic identity, but now clouded by an era of apprentices, his peculiarity is lost.

El Guincho has calmed down a bit since 2007’s Alegranza! In fact Pop Negro sounds a few steps towards the beachy chillness he hovered around with is earlier efforts. The kaleidoscopic, uber-bliss eruptions of songs like “Antillas” are gone, and with that a lot of the gleeful euphoria of his work exited the building as well. Pop Negro is primarily a mash of smeared tropical percussion and cartoonish synth loops, with a disappointing shortage of sticky grooves or off-kilter samples. He’s singing more, but that’s mainly an end to cover up the vacuous airiness to these hooks; El Guincho either can’t keep up with himself or his contemporaries. Pop Negro has neither the enthusiasm or extroverted weirdness that we expect from him – maybe it’s a momentary shift in style or the foreshadowing of a new musical identity – either way it’s not nearly as fun to listen to as we’d hope.

The National @ Bristol O2 Academy, 24 Nov 2010

After the slow burning cult-to-the-cusp success of 2005’s Alligator and 2007’s Boxer, when it came to this year’s High Violet, the plaudits appeared to be overly-predetermined by The National’s prior growing reputation.  To these – almost certainly minority opinion – ears the album captured the quintet in a tacit state of unresolved artistic flux.  Seemingly unable to choose between favouring anthemic noire-rock and lugubriously lush balladry, High Violet strained overall to satisfy either strand fully.  There are however some strong songs buried inside its grainy production casings and boxed-in drum layers, as highlighting during a packed-out show at Bristol’s O2 Academy, even if some confused ambitions loomed in the background.

Opening with a smouldering “Runaway” from the new album, it initially seemed that the band’s dark romantic heart was going to dominate.  But from thereafter it became clear that the rock beast was more at play in The National’s on stage projections.  In small bursts, the visceral guitar duelling of the twin Dessner brothers and the interlocking rhythm section of the non-twin Devendorf brothers made for a genuinely gripping audio-visual spectacle, especially on full-throttle takes on “Anyone’s Ghost,” “Mistaken For Strangers” and “Abel.” However, sometimes the over-abundant aggression overwhelmed the black humour that singer Matt Berninger brings to The National special equations.

Consequently, more offbeat set-list inclusions (like the loveable Alligator extract “All The Wine”) and some of the band’s ruggedly beautiful ballads (“Lucky You,” “England” and “Slow Show”) glowed the most brightly.  Reassuringly of course too, there remain plenty of bulwarks to prevent the group’s new status leading to U2-style arrogant aloofness, mainly thanks to Berninger’s charismatic cliché-obfuscating presence.  After all, would a wannabe-Bono want to keep singing lines like “I was afraid I’d eat your brains,” joke so self-deprecatingly with his audience and deliver the occasional blood-curdling scream mid-chorus (inside “Squalor Victoria” and others), as Berninger did during the night’s proceedings?  Clearly, The National’s collective persona needs to carefully decide where it wants to be seen, heard and appreciated on stage with the next – and no doubt even bigger – long-player.  Given a choice between a depressing booze/mobile phone affiliated arena or an ornate vintage theatre venue, this relatively loyal fan knows where he’d prefer to catch The National in future… and not just for the more homely comforts.  Hopefully though, based on tonight’s mixture of muscle and innate irreverence the band will recognise the right path forward.

Markus Mehr – Lava

Thanks to Hidden Shoal Recordings for continuing to release genre-defying and experimental music. This time it’s German ambient experimentalist Markus Mehr’s Lava, a slow-paced album of dense, minimalist, shapeshifting, sometimes bleak, electronic soundscapes. It seems you CAN judge an album by it’s cover.

Built mostly from buzzy synth drones and heavily processed guitars, the tracks bristle with an other-worldly eeriness as distant sounds act like a thick fog moving in slowly and engulfing everything in a misty cloud.

Some pieces on Lava are suitable for a science fiction movie soundtrack or a documentary on exploring underwater caves. Some pass as dark, ambient background music, while others are glimmering, ambient guitar-scapes that exploit the use of fuzz and sustain. “Hubble” and “Everyware” are excellent examples of the latter, as the dense fog is temporarily lifted to reveal a few shining rays of sunlight.

But headphone enthusiasts beware. While “Cousteau” floats along, dreamily tip-toeing through space with squeaky notes flying by backwards, before climaxing with swirling waves of fuzzy synths, “Up-Sturz” brings the listener back to reality abruptly as a swirling mess of alarm clock and cellphone ringtones begins as a drilling, single-tone wake-up call.

These otherworldly soundscapes evolve and morph into various dissonant incarnations that teeter on the edge of being eerily seductive and annoyingly eerie, while never really being either. And although Lava does contain some compelling music, the heavy use of buzzing drones and the shifting moods make it difficult to listen to the whole disc in one sitting.

RIYL: Dead Voices On Air, Mandible Chatter, Remora, M83

New Album from Wooden Wand

James Jackson Toth, AKA Wooden Wand is releasing Death Seat, his label debut for Young God Records, produced by Swans’ Michael Gira.

Toth is your fearless friend, the stumbling guy that goes out and gets himself into some incredibly fucked-up situations but comes out shining and lives to tell you all about it, entertaining you safely and immensely. It’s obvious he’s animated with the same spirit that’s moved through Willie, Waylon, Merle, and Hank, his songs unfurling with a similar casual authority. There’s no space between who he is (laying floors in Murfeesboro, TN at the moment) and the work he does. He’s never without a guitar, and is always writing or listening to/seeking out new music. The language and the singing is effortless and without loaded portent-it goes down smooth.

James has previously released records with Kill Rock Stars, Ryko and Thurston Moore’s Ecstatic Peace label; Lee Renaldo produced one of them.

http://www.myspace.com/woodenwand

Franz Nicolay Remixes EP

“This Is Not A Pipe – Beauty Pill”:

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Faun Fables – Light Of A Vaster Dark

Dawn McCarthy hasn’t necessarily made it easy to read her Faun Fables.  Through her dalliances with performance art theatrics, rustic film-noir atmospherics and heady conceptual songwriting – which reached a peak on 2006’s The Transit Rider – McCarthy and her primary Faun Fables sideman Nils Frykdahl have in part been ghettoised by both inverted snobbery and forgivable misunderstanding.  However, thanks to the profile-lift of McCarthy adding her keening authoritative tones to Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy’s acclaimed The Letting Go and a greater sense of inviting warmth, this latest Faun Fables LP deserves to reach far beyond a niche audience.

This isn’t to say that Light Of A Vaster Dark compromises the Faun Fables muse dramatically, given its diverse non-rock influences and its folk-opera thematics concerning the cyclical changes between light and dark across the seasons of life.  Yet somehow its kaleidoscopic artistic vision is wrapped in a blur of earthiness and lushness that is consistently captivating and open-armed.

Whilst there are familiar and alluring nods to the back-in-vogue Britfolk ilk of Fairport Convention and The Incredible String Band – through the soaring “Housekeeper,” the rugged “Parade” and the yearning “O Mary” – it’s in the wilder and weirder corners that Light Of A Vaster Dark really glows brightest.  Consequently, the wonderful East European-slanted title-track masterfully builds itself around near a capella eeriness; the sparse death-rattling drums and multi-tracked vocals of “On The Open Plains” rouse and chill like a medieval military rally; the stomping tribalistic “Sweeping Spell” delivers an enjoyably macabre homage to domestic drudgery; and “Bells For Ura” conjures a minimalist percussive meditation that should appeal to Moondog and Steve Reich devotees alike.

Throughout Light Of A Vaster Dark there is an overriding sense of closeness and inclusiveness that draws you in and belies any accusations of pretentiousness that might otherwise come from straying into musical terrain far off the road so over-travelled.  Although Faun Fables ultimately may remain a cult concern, stirring records like this do deserve to be belatedly discovered and lauded by musical archaeologists in a future age.

Drag City

Air Traffic Controller – The One

It’s hard to resist the charm of a serviceman who returns home from duty and channels his reflections on military life into a performing arts career.  So it is with Dave Munro, a Massachusetts native whose time in the U.S. Navy – performing a job you’ll never suspect – led to the unsuspecting discovery of formidable talents as a pop/rock songwriter.  While stationed in Puerto Rico, Munro’s slowly decaying long distance relationship with his girlfriend caused him to seek refuge in music.  Armed with only a guitar, a four-track, and an informal knowledge of chord structures that had been passed down from older siblings, Munro began penning tunes at a frantic rate.  The songs eventually made it back up to Boston, generating some considerable hype before Munro had even completed his assignment in the Caribbean.

Since ditching “Anchors Away” for “I Love Rock n’ Roll” and returning to Massachusetts,” Munro and his band have developed a loyal fanbase on the strength of the burgeoning songwriter’s earnest storytelling, everyman lyrics, and a sound that’s equal parts Traveling Wilburys, and Bruce Springsteen.  Truth be told, if the strummy rock of Air Traffic Controller had just a touch more twang to it, most of the songs on the group’s debut, The One, could very comfortably find a home on the local country station.  Enter producer and erstwhile Bostonian Bleu (a.k.a. William McAuley), whose work with the likes of The Cars and Toad the Wet Sprocket means that there’s a glossy rock radio sheen on nearly all of the album’s 12 tracks.

While claims of Munro’s songwriting prowess are completely warranted, it’s Bleu’s touch at the boards that gives The One its muscle; everything here is mixed down so that nothing – not even the shimmering layers of guitar or lush string arrangements – get in the way of Munro’s effortless ability to spin tales about second chances, failed romances, or nostalgic journeys down familiar roads.  As one might surmise, Air Traffic Controller’s songs are not the stuff of subtlety or understatement, but that’s precisely the reason why this act seems so poised for a mainstream breakthrough.

While the lyrics and melodic hooks always trump texture and instrumental nuance here, listeners are bound to find an immediate appeal in the familiarity of Air Traffic Controller’s music; the choruses are super-sized with an anthemic sing-a-long quality, and Munro’s scratchy tenor has a homely and approachable appeal.

“Don’t Tell Me What to Do” opens with a pensive acoustic riff that gives way to robust cello harmonies, female backup vocals, and drums that almost seem copped from “In the Air Tonight.”  On its upward trajectory to pop music heaven, Munro’s voice sounds strikingly fragile, particularly on lines line, “Don’t you tell me what to do / and more importantly / don’t tell me what I shouldn’t do.”

The title track is obviously drawn from personal experience, as the song opens with military boot percussion and offers allusions to days spent learning how to write songs: “Shit just happens sometimes / I put it down and it rhymes.”  Following a fairly conventional verse/chorus/verse structure, the tune is a prototype for what Air Traffic Controller does best – taking a personal experience and making it feel universal.  “Does it suck / is it great / do you think it’s just OK,” sings Munro, his worry over a failing relationship made entirely palpable.

One of the album’s finest moments comes early on in the form of “Bad Axe, MI.”  What begins as a cozy backwoods country tune about the Great Lakes State turns into an encore worthy fist pumper – à la Tom Petty’s “Into the Great Wide Open” – concerning a star looking for his big break (“So he’s off to Nashville / he’s tired of this / maybe this Boston music scene was just a myth”).  Bleu’s work in the studio is evident here, the army of voices in the chorus resonating with a blissful echo.

Munro spends most of the disc criss-crossing the familiar and comfy terrain between folk and power-pop, at turns channeling the reflective adult alternative of Jason Mraz (“Test 1,2”) and even the rousing post-grunge of Hoobastank (“This Road”).  He tackles contemporary religious conundrums on “God Has a Plan” (Does God have a plan for me / do I have to go to church / or can I watch it on TV?”), and recounts an awkward bedroom encounter on the country radio-flavored “Foot of the Bed.”

The One doesn’t offer much in the way of eccentricity, risk-taking, or maverick performances, but it’s going to be hard to find someone else in the independent market whose music so naturally begs for mass consumption; this is big, hooky, surging pop music that readily deserves an audience just as large.

Wooden Wand – “Perch Modifier”

Harem of the Sundrum & the Witness Figg was the first solo album from Wooden Wand’s James Jackson Toth who previously recorded and performed with the now disbanded group The Vanishing Voice. Released on Soft Abuse Records, Toth is an artist whose range stretches from the experimental to psychedelic country-folk.

“Perch Modifier” offers a melodic echo, along side slow guitar plucking that digs to the root of human emotion. It’s a track like this, number two off of Harem of the Sundrum & the Witness Figg that cradles the likes of Bon Iver and Bonnie “Prince” Billy. A gentle hiss underneath the song gives it a rustic home-made feel, with vocal harmonies that whisper from ear to ear.

Toth battles with his own decisions and in the end leaves it to the listener. The tracks begins with, “go and give ‘em hell, or don’t go give ‘em hell”. And later, “go and take the time, or do not take the time”. He lets us know that even when we’re left to our own devices, we can still rejoice in the new day.

Interview with Casey Crescenzo of The Dear Hunter

Formerly of The Receiving Ends of Sirens, Casey Crescenzo began crafting material for The Dear Hunter in 2005. A mixture of indie rock/pop and progressive complexity and arrangement, he began the project with the ambition of telling a story through six “acts.” Now halfway through his tale, Casey took some time to talk with DOA’s Jordan Blum about his musical past, present and future.

Did The Dear Hunter begin as a side project to the Receiving End of Sirens? How did the band feel about that and how long after TDH began did you leave Receiving Ends? Why did you leave?

They were always very supportive of what I was into doing creatively. It wasn’t even as much a side project as much as it was just the title I assigned to the non- TREOS related material I wrote when I was home. There was never a desire to release it until the band suggested I show it to more people. The first show I actually played had the rest of TREOS playing the instruments. As far as deciding to leave the band, I never decided to leave. I was asked to leave, and after that happened, I knew I still wanted to pursue music, so I jumped headfirst into the Dear Hunter.

How does the music of the two bands compare? What was the reason to start TDH?

Both bands are pretty into polyphony, but where TREOS uses a lot of synthesis and utilizes primarily the layering of electric guitar and electronic percussion. The idea with the dear hunter was to take that same style of layering, and apply it to other instruments and voices. The reason to start TDH was as I said above – music that was coming out of me with no real outlet.

Did you receive any backlash from fans of Receiving Ends? How has the reception and success been for TDH?

The only real backlash came from the people who believed I left TREOS to start TDH. Other than that everyone was open minded, though I will say as soon as a good lot of TREOS fans heard TDH for the first time they decided it was not for them. It made sense; TDH and TREOS music was total opposites but they were different enough that I was expecting it, and it didn’t upset me. It’s better than them liking The Dear Hunter just because I was in TREOS.

TDH, while definitely having its own great identity and sound, has been compared to fellow pop/prog acts Coheed & Cambria and The Mars Volta. I can definitely hear a similarity on tracks like “City Escape.” Are you fans of those guys and did they impact your sound? Do you think the comparisons are accurate?

I enjoy The Mars Volta. I wouldn’t say they influence me, but it would be impossible to say what influences me on a subconscious level. I also love King Crimson, early Yes, Weather Report, etc. Those are the bands that inspire me to write Latin rhythms and melodies.

Act I was more of a family effort than the II and III, correct? How did you get your family to be so involved, what parts did they play, and why did they take a back seat after that album?

I wouldn’t say my family took a back seat. I recorded Act I on the west coast, and after I was asked to leave TREOS I moved to an actual apartment on the east cost with my girlfriend. That’s where I recorded Act II and Act III. My family lives on the west coast so it was tough to get them involved. My father did play banjo on Act II. On Act I my mother sang, and my father played keys. My brother played drums, and he still does.

How did you assemble the musicians you used for Act II and Act III?

Very randomly: the internet, friends, friends of friends, etc.

I love overlapping harmonies in music, and you do a great job with that throughout the discography. Tracks like the great “Writing on a Wall” and amazing opener to the whole saga, “Battesimo del Fuoco,” come to mind. How did you arrange those and who exactly sings on them?

As far as arranging vocals, I have the arrangement in my head and then I sing it. On “Battesimo” I sing it all, and on “Writing on a Wall” I sing most of it; the crowd was me and a few of the guys in the band.

How do the three albums of TDH differ in sound and tone/emotion? Which is your favorite and why?

I would like to think that the albums have naturally evolved, and that over time I am learning to close the gap between inspiration and creation. I would hope to say that from Act I-III my songwriting has become more interesting. As far as the tone of the records, there has been a natural movement towards a more somber and dark evocation. This is only really because of the story I am trying to tell, and while I draw from my own life and emotions, it isn’t a mirror imaging.

I also love conceptual continuity in music, and you do it several times on TDH albums. For example, Act II ends with the melody from “The Lake South” from Act I. How do you decide which aspects of previous albums to reference in the next one?

As I write different songs and movements for the different themes and moments in the story, themes arise naturally. I try not to do anything just for the sake of doing it, so every time a certain theme is referenced or alluded to it has a meaning within the story being told (though it’s usually subtle).

How did you learn to play so many instruments and sing?

I really don’t play that many; learn the guitar and you can find your way around anything with strings for the most part; learn the piano and find your way on any keyed instrument, etc. I grew up in a very musical household and was constantly encouraged by my family to be creative, so nothing was ever off limits. There is a world I still want to learn.

Who did the arrangements for the orchestral sections on TDH albums?

I did.

What is the story thus far in TDH tale? Can you reveal any hints on where it’s going?

So far (by Act III) a boy has been born, lived his youthful years with his mother, removed from society. When she passed he didn’t really feel the restrictions she placed on him any more and ventured out to the city she tried to keep him from. Here, while simultaneously learning about her past, he also fell in love. When the love went awry, he decided to sign up for the military to get as far from what he had come to know as his home (though he had no real idea what he was in for). At war, he found himself changing drastically, and a much darker side of himself arose. By the end of Act III his past and his present are haunting him; He lashes out at those around him and then goes AWOL. The story will basically just continue to follow him through the choices he makes in his life.

When will Act IV come out and what will it be about? How will the music compare to its predecessors?

I don’t totally know when Act IV will be out as I am focusing on the color spectrum project. I can say that musically I would hope it just continues to evolve and portray a story sonically. At this point in the story things calm a bit more; as the last record was very grandiose, this record will be a bit more subdued and less centered around heavy orchestration.

Can you elaborate on that in terms of concept, sound, etc on the color spectrum  project? Has any writing been done yet and what colors will be first?

The color spectrum project is basically a reason to stretch my boundaries musically. At the end of the day its still just music – the only difference is that I am naming the inspiration behind each aspect of the project. These songs are still coming from my heart, but this approach allows me to sort of compartmentalize these ideas and sequence them in shorter more concise form – EPs. The whole project is The Color Spectrum, but that is an umbrella term for the collection of 9 EPs; each EP is a project of its own, and I am trying to treat them all with as much individuality as possible.

What music influenced TDH and who are your favorite bands today? Who would you like to tour with?

I was heavily influenced by my parents’ music (the music they created) as well as the music they listened to: Jimi Hendrix, Weather Report, Chick Corea, the Beatles, and Beach Boys. I also grew up loving Bjork, Mike Patton, Oingo Boingo, Thomas Dolby, and the Police. Lately I have been listening to a lot of Cardiacs, Talk Talk, and Doves.

Can you discuss any upcoming tour plans in the USA?

As of right now there are no real plans to tour – the focus is centered on finishing the color spectrum project.

What are your hobbies outside of making music and if you weren’t a musician, what would you like to do with your life?

Let’s see: antiquing with my fiancée, playing with my dog, the occasional video game, cooking. As for what I would be doing if I wasn’t making music, I really don’t know; I feel like 99% of the brainpower I use is devoted to creating music – which is why everything else around me falls apart usually. I would assume that if I wasn’t making music the rest would be a lot easier (laughs).

Well thanks for taking the time to talk to me, Casey.

No problem, Jordan. Thanks.

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