Flood Coats is Joel P. West and Darla Hawn from San Diego – where I once lived and would watch Joel and his band, sitting cross legged in a friend’s living room. I remember thinking Darla was probably the coolest girl in San Diego that I never met. She’s a drummer and she’s got this Danielle Haim vibe to her, just this percussive force that isn’t afraid to just go for it. Anyway, they sent over their cover of Radiohead’s There, There. It’s more of an electronic vibe than the sort of sprawling orchestral music that Joel is typical associated with. No less beautiful. Check out more here.
Faces on Film (Mike Fiore) recently released his third album called Elite Lines out tomorrow (03/25). Beginning with borrowing one of his earlier songs to name this blog nearly five years ago (shit, 5 years!) – I’ve sort of always found myself tied to his songs in one way or another. The album itself is all shades and variations of psychedelic guitar tones, rhythmic and sensual bass and on overarching clarity of vocals and lyricisms. Everything sounds more defined and courageous than before. Your Old One is a stand-out – slide guitar, humming organ and echoed vocals as he sing, “it’d be no fun being your old one” and in a way, I know exactly what that means. Bad Star is equally satisfying in a more pulsing, meditative way, you really feel like you’re getting somewhere and the final instrumental feels necessary to prepare you for what’s next. The record continues to take you into new realms, you get the sense that there’s a versatility that was not there before, experimenting stylistically to inspire entirely new songs that still somehow sound very much his own. There is a growth and a freedom to all of this.
This album is currently in my rotation of albums I listen to on my train to work, which is fitting because it feels isolated and cathartic that way, it’s something I can absorb before the world hits me. You can purchase the album here.
I’ve been streaming the new War on Drugs record over at NPR all week when I received a package in the mail with 30 records in it, including Lost in the Dream. Lucky me! I think this record is going to sound much better on vinyl – which is a good excuse to fix one of my two broken record players. It’ll also be a good companion as I cruise around in my vintage (old) Grand Marquis. All I need is one of Neil Young’s Ponos and I’ll be all set. I am too young to be so old.
The internet can feel very small sometimes. I first discovered a Frankie Cosmos song on a random mix about a week ago and loved her voice and the tempo change and the sweetness of it and added to a mix I did. I didn’t investigate the artist much further than that because I didn’t have time but made a mental note to later on. Then I came across a Pitchfork interview with her and kind of fell in love with this curious, prolific artist. At 19, she invents words like Zentropy, studies poetry, makes over 45 albums and generally makes the rest of us wannabe artists look like total bums. I posted a link to the article on my facebook and of course my friend tells me he’s filming with her on Monday. So those are the degrees of separation between us. Very small world.
My musical soul-sister Veronica just posted about Cataldo so of course, I checked ‘em out and I too am digging them. I’m liking Gilded Oldies and The Beast. Listen below.
Friends, peers and bandmates of Jason Molina came together to cover some of their favourite songs of his, including Communist Daughter, Murder by Death, Sarah Jaffe, Memorial Electric Company, My Morning Jacket and many more. The double album will be released via non profit music label Rock the Cause with portions of the album going towards MusicCares to support artists battling addiction and other health related issues.
Listen to My Morning Jacket’s take on Farewell Transmission, below.
My hyper talented friend Nathaniel Whitcomb, collage artist and one half of the supernatural music and arts blog Stadiums and Shrines, has revealed his latest project for which I have very little words besides complete awe, absolute stillness and a quiet ear. He collaborated with M. Sage on “A Singular Continent” combining ethereal guitar, field recordings and otherworldly sounds with Nathaniel’s collages, taking ancient memories and repurposing them in new shapes to breathe new life into them, adding yet another layer is Grant Souders and his poems representing North, East, South, West. This carefully crafted piece is now available via Patient Sounds as a 2XLP including a 36 page book.
It feels inappropriate for me to write about Benji because I was born in the 80s and by the time I was four or five, Red House Painters began releasing albums and and Mark Kozelek was a completely self-aware human creating and evolving in his art. It took me years to get to this place, the place where I’d start to sit down with some of these albums an acquaint myself with a long lineage of art by starting from the very end, or most recent, or how you want to look at it. I’d vaguely heard of Red House Painters and Sun Kil Moon but didn’t really pay any attention to it because it was reserved for older guys with credibility. Now that I’m getting older I’m realizing that the music that tends to dig into me most is that of the baritone vocals of men who have seen a few things: Bill Callahan, Dave Bazan, Mark Kozelek, Bonnie Prince Billy, Cass McCombs, etc.
Benji is laid out in a narrative style that combines the minutia of daily life with the profoundly sad and beautiful moments that often correspond. Kozelek has no reservations about telling you how much he loves his dad, or how his second cousin Carissa died in a gruesome and horrifying way while throwing out the trash and how strange it was that his uncle died the very same way, or how he ordered “little crab cakes”. He’s purging all of these details about his past and his family and friends with the hope that he extract the beauty from it.
There’s an inclination towards believing that the narrator knows more than you, by their revealing nature they seem to have it figured out – but what’s most endearing with Benji is you get the sense that he doesn’t have any of it figured out, he’s trying to wrap his head around big things like death and failure and family. I think the prevailing mood is one of gratitude, the sweet kind – the kind you keep in lists in your head when you go to bed at night and think about how much you are loved by all kinds of people. This record makes me believe that we are entering an era of music that is deeply sincere, uncool, human – and for that I am grateful, because the aloof, unaffected sarcasm of the general culture, or the internet culture more specifically, has been exhausted.
Listen to my favourite track, Carissa, below.