The Martinis
Smitten
2004
The Martinis
Smitten
2004
When dealing with certain recordings, you just can't help feeling that any positive comments will seem like stating the obvious. In these cases, I like to overstate the obvious. That said, London Calling is a major landmark in the geography of human history. This coming week you can kneel down and tremble in the long shadow of its 25th anniversary by purchasing the new 3-disc edition (2 CDs, 1 DVD). The second CD contains the legendarily missing "Vanilla Tapes," offering demos from the London Calling sessions, including 5 tracks that never made the final release. Of course, if you don't already own the album, you can be forgiven if you opt for the plain-vanilla version, since London Calling is a masterpiece and, as such, doesn't require any extraneous adornment.
While Kristin Hersh's new band has two out of three members in common with her recently revived Throwing Muses, this self-titled debut ep demonstrates that 50 Foot Wave is an altogether different force of nature. Loud, fast, and furious, the six songs here will leave you barely enough breath to beg for more. It shouldn't be a long wait, as Hersh plans to release a new ep every nine months rather than the industry norm of an album every two years.
I've only got a few minutes to write about Joanna Newsom, since it's hotter than a kiln here at Nugget HQ and we must evacuate the premises shortly. It's a shame, really, since Joanna deserves more ink, not less. Here's the story, in short, sharp shots: She plays the harp. She sings in a quavering childlike voice that many listeners either love or loathe (count me among the former). She writes some great lyrics -- Svetlana sucks lemons across from me, / and I am progressing abominably. / And I do not know my own way to the sea / but the saltiest sea knows its own way to me. There were two self-released EPs (Yarn and Glue, Walnut Whales) before Drag City put out The Milk-Eyed Mender. Everyone is pretty much gaga for this unique-sounding record. It will probably end up on many "Best of 2004" lists. Of course, the key is not that it's different, but that it's so incredibly good.
From its a cappella opening line "I don't wanna kiss you, I don't wanna touch...", Costello's third second studio album explodes with great song after great song. "No Action," "This Year's Girl," "The Beat," "Pump It Up" -- all classics, and the list goes on. If you pick up the Rhino reissue (2002), you'll get the original masterpiece, a bonus disc of 12 outtakes and extras, and some nice liner notes from the original Napoleon Dynamite. It's great to read Costello's take on his first US tour, which ended with The Attractions' classic Saturday Night Live appearance, where they played the unreleased song they wanted ("Radio, Radio") after a 4-bar fakeout on the tune the producers wanted. Classic.
The film Ghost Dog is vintage Jim Jarmusch, and by that I mean it's very strange. Which is not to say it isn't enjoyable. Forrest Whitaker is oddly appealing as an ascetic hit-man who quotes Hagakure: The Book of the Samurai. However, the most lasting question many viewers will have is: "Who did the killer soundtrack?" Answer: RZA, founding producer of the Wu-Tang Clan. Since Ghost Dog, he's scored Kill Bill and Blade Trinity, played a small role in Jarmusch's latest, Coffee and Cigarettes, and helmed his own Kung Fu movie. Unfortunately for iPod enthusiasts, the best way to hear the music from Ghost Dog may be to watch the film itself, since neither the domestic nor the Japanese import soundtrack has gotten the nod from hard-core afficianados.
The Long Winters may be the most inappropriately named band ever. If ever there was a record that sounded like a Spring day, this is it. I'm sure the irony is not lost on John Roderick. The singer's clever, often cryptic lyrics may be delivered over a tongue snuggled comfortably in one cheek; but when combined with razor-sharp hooks and laser beam production, the resulting songs are gloriously pure. And they will make your body move. So next time you're training for a marathon, or just baking chocolate chip cookies, throw this on your iPod and let the sunshine in.
She's from Leeds, England. She lives in Chicago, Illinois. She's in the legendary punk band The Mekons. On her most recent solo album, she sings gorgeous country music. Go figure. Or not. Just listen to her sad, silky voice as it glides over songs like Johnny Cash's "Cry Cry Cry" or her own "Sweetheart Waltz." In an interview in The High Hat, Timms says " I like singing well-written songs that tend toward the depressive, so country can be a mine of those." Keep mining, Sally, and bring us more beautiful albums like this.
Continue reading "Lonesome Sally's Twilight Laments For Lost Buckaroos" »
Singer-songwriter M. Ward plays the acoustic guitar, sometimes accompanying himself with an impromptu recorded loop of that same instrument. It's a simple combination, but deceptively powerful -- a phrase that could easily apply to M. Ward himself, who appears onstage as nothing more than a soft-spoken kid from Portland wearing a t-shirt and a baseball cap. Then he starts strumming and the guitar thunders and twangs, shattering the illusion of simplicity. Ward can also slide behind the piano, and that's a treat not to be missed, as he scratchily croons songs like the haunting "Carolina." Transfiguration of Vincent, as with Ward's first two albums, is packed with individual gems ("Vincent O'Brien," "Undertaker"), but also works together as a beautiful whole.
It would be a shame to pigeonhole the Truckers as "Southern rock," despite the fact that they are Southern, do rock, and even have a double-length concept album about Lynyrd Skynyrd. Their latest release, The Dirty South, is about to drop, but do yourself a favor and get Decoration Day first. For immediate gratification, you can (legally) download a live version of the title track or hop over to KEXP's live music archive and check out performances from both Decoration Day and the upcoming release.
