This is the video for Breathe Your Last, by Jameson (Jameson Burt), from his new EP Carnivore. It considers, visually, the battle between artist – writer, in this case – and demons, and artist and self, and contains some weird Fight Club-style bloody violence and Blair Witch-style shaky footage of one man’s mind coming apart at the seams. There is one extended scene with words melting off a blackboard that is seriously the stuff of nightmares for anyone who keeps little piles of scribbled chunks of story and notes-to-self laying around. On the plus side: our hero does climb out of the nightmare pit at the end and presumably lives to fight (and scribble) another day. Some thoughts about Carnivore as a whole: I’ve been listening to it on loop for the last couple of days, and it is the kind of record that 1) will stand up to that kind of test – I have yet to get bored with it and 2) blooms under that kind of scrutiny. Breathe Your Last has a distinctly Americana sound, but the rest of the songs don’t really; they shimmy all over the indie rock spectrum, borrowing from a variety of genres … Continue reading
Junkie Thrown (Sanna Holmström) is from Göteborg, Sweden, and she combines crystal-sweet vocals with delicate guitars and the occasional heavy hypnotic beat. I spent most of last night listening to her YouTube uploads on endless loop; that includes her tunes as well as one by a friend – Sun Lions Army, by Sea Lion – and you can replicate that experience if you like, or you can listen to just her stuff, below. Fairy Christmas Day is . . . not your typical Christmas song. It’s Christmas through a haze – a haze of what, who knows – disappointment and alcohol, maybe – but it’s also somehow soothing. And then there is Circus of Our Misery, as an example of her non-Christmas fare, which has a delicate melody over a dark, thudding undertow.
November has come to a close. Novels have been written; moustaches, of various degrees of amazingness and horribleness, have been grown and shaved; turkey has been eaten; in some locations, the first snow has fallen. Here at NTSIB, I’ve been doing NaBloPoMo, or National Blog Posting Month. I’ll do a masterpost later, but: there’s been a lot of music. Go back through the archives and see what you’ve missed. To finish out, here is the Joyce Manor/Toys that Kill split, set to be turned loose upon the world later this week, via Recess Records. If you like Ramones-style punk, these bands are for you. Joyce Manor, Tame: Toys That Kill, Times We Can’t Let Go: They’re also touring the West Coast together later in December.
A home for things that might be fleeting, might be soothing, might be weird, might be soothing and weird. The blogging equivalent of sitting in the garage twiddling radio knobs just to see what might be out there. Tei Shi (Valerie Teicher), from Brooklyn via Argentina, Colombia, Boston and Vancouver, gives her genre as “mermaid music”, and this strikes me as an accurate assessment. It’s subtle, complex, seductive and a little bit otherworldly. See Me is one of two new singles; I’m most fond of the trance-y hiss-click beat that periodically expands into something light and airy, as well as the dark wubble-bubble echoes floating beneath her crystalline voice: Bassically is a little more up-tempo, and has a little more fuzz-grit, and is just delightful: New Yorkers: She’s playing at Glasslands on Dec. 8; everyone else: check in with her frequently, there will be more music coming, and be sure to explore her back catalog.
A home for things that might be fleeting, might be soothing, might be weird, might be soothing and weird. The blogging equivalent of sitting in the garage twiddling radio knobs just to see what might be out there. Industrial Love from Domesticated by Casper Cult is, I think, the aural equivalent of sitting inside a Zen rock garden with a rain-noises machine and a warm fuzzy sweater. Some part of me thinks something called “Industrial Love” should be louder, clangier, with more screech and holler, but a larger part thinks no, this perfect, this is sitting in an empty warehouse and communing with the silence and the stillness of machines not in use.
A home for things that might be fleeting, might be soothing, might be weird, might be soothing and weird. The blogging equivalent of sitting in the garage twiddling radio knobs just to see what might be out there. Featherstitch is the first single and title track from Featherstitch by Eyreton Hall (Toni Randle and Andrew Keegan) of Auckland, New Zealand. It’s sweet, lovely and lovingly-crafted folk music, spare and delicate and sad and beautiful. I may or may not have listened to it three times in a row after the first time I heard it. And three more times while putting this post together. It’s kind of seductive, this tune. You can listen to the rest of the record (and, you know, buy it) at their bandcamp.
The first polar vortex of the season arrived in New York yesterday, bringing with it icy temperatures and blustery winds. Like it or not, winter is here. And in the spirit of all things frosty and beautiful, here are two songs from Johanna Glaza: Paper Widow and Winter Song, due out at the end of November, which embody, in sound, all of the best parts of the season: windows full of delicate frost fronds, the smell of fresh pine, the crunch of new snow.
Hard Hard Hard, by Dead Professional (John Harouff) is the sort of record that sneaks up on you. A bass line gets lodged in your head one day; you find yourself humming along with a melody the next; the day after that a particular lyric strikes home. For example, I was just briefly arrested by I can be your baby / or I can play the sitter from I Can Deliver, which has both sharp edges and Replacements-style catchy grooves: Another one I’m fond of is Bad Memory, because it’s a love song, if love songs were written by sharks: