Magnolia Electric Co “What Comes After The Blues” was released fifteen years ago today on 5th April 2005 From the original Secretly Canadian press release:
With this record, we entered a new era with Jason Molina. After seven full-length studio albums in as many years – each recorded using a revolving cast of players under the name Songs: Ohia – Molina retired the name Songs: Ohia as well as his wayward days and settled in with a new and consistent cast of players. He has named this group Magnolia Electric Co., after his final Songs: Ohia album, finding a once-in-a-career band down in Bloomington in Pete Schreiner, Jason Groth, Mark Rice and Mike Kapinus.
Sonically, on What Comes After the Blues, there isn’t a huge departure from where Songs: Ohia was headed. The steel howling hauntedly, the guitars soaring and crunching with verve, and the songs still resonating with timelessness. Steve Albini’s live-in-a-room and captured-as-it-was-played engineering technique is still a crucial player as well. Where we find the marked difference with this new band and with these players in this new cloak are in their confidence as afforded by experience and trust in one another. These guys are talented, hard-working, and actually enjoy playing with one another – and you can hear it in the songs. Magnolia Electric Co. made a no-bullshit album that is both rocking and full of life; it’s a fist pumper and manages to hit great depths of beauty as well.”
Pearl Jam newest album ‘Gigaton’ one of the biggest rock bands in the world return to semi-brilliance this is Eddie Vedder and co.’s 11th album won’t change your life, but should boast enough vitriol to satisfy long-term fans
Assessing the work of bands that are in the truest sense of the world seminal often feels like a brutal internal skirmish. The head knows they’ve changed, aged, softened into something that feels at-times unbearably unrecognisable from their youthful defiance. But the heart, in all its fervour, wants what it knew and adored. And Pearl Jam particularly in the last decade have pandered to the former. Their last record, ‘Lightning Bolt’ (2013) was the opposite of its moniker; a gentle jaunt into middle-aged nothingness, it commanded a sense of loss for the greatness that had been. For many Pearl Jam fans, this was pretty devastating. It felt like the end.
And so ‘Gigaton’ – their 11th record and first in seven years – arrives into a curious space for the band and in a new musical status quo where guitar music seems to have taken a backseat. Yet album opener ‘Who Ever Said’ is exciting even in this climate, sounding not unlike something from 1998’s ‘Yield’-era Pearl Jam, a vestige of grown-up grunge with a welcome bluesy Stone Temple Pilots edge. It brims with hope (much-needed, right now) that evokes a sense of urgency.
‘Superblood Wolfmoon’, am album highlight, fits into that fold of brilliance, too. You can just imagine it at a festival, slotted between ‘Do The Evolution’ (1998) and ‘Hail, Hail’ (1996) with pacey, hip-shaking swagger and clever time signatures. Frontman Eddie Vedder’s silky vocals perch over Mike McReady’s riffs to perfection with melody firmly at the top of the agenda. This is the kind of song that won the band seismic radio airplay back in the ‘90s (and some backlash too) as contemporaries like Alice In Chains and Soundgarden stayed firmly in the heavy rock stable with little mainstream crossover. They’re both solid tracks, great, even, and a truly exciting start of a band renewed. But they’re sadly not always indicative of the rest of the album.
A lot hinges on single ‘Dance Of The Clairvoyants’ to follow up with some fervour. But its synth-laden noughties vibe although catchy – just feels too far from their original sound to resonate in an old world or a new one. The smoothness jars against Vedder’s vocals while McCreedy’s guitar soars try to salvage something. But we’ve entered a mediocre zone the band need to be wary of and have occasionally fallen into.
Nestled in-between is ‘Quick Escape’, which is something of a relief. A listenable crescendo of strings, bass and sonic excellence, it’s the kind of track that would slip into a live set with relative ease. ‘Never Destination’, with its classic rock vibes, tempers along slowly and delivers something thoroughly palatable. ‘Take The Long Way’ similarly sounds like a cleaned-up Pearl Jam of yore with lines such as “I always take the long way / Leads me back to you’ pushed up against frenetic licks.
Everything feels OK – for a moment. But that’s when the sickly, MOR ‘Buckle Up’ sidles up to you and if followed by the gentle ditty ‘Comes Then Goes’. They both fall into the category of Pearl Jam tracks that sound – much like Vedder’s solo stuff – nice enough, but are pretty darn samey.
The band’s records have long featured unremarkable material – and this kind of filler gets less remarkable with each record. New track ‘Retrograde’ has its charming acoustic moments, but as this record closes with ‘Rivers Cross’ – which is one-part Pearl Jam epic, one-part cultural commentary with lines such as ‘the government drives all discontent‘ – you can’t help but look back across a legacy spinning over 30 years.
While ‘Gigaton’ features threads of similarity to 2009’s ‘Backspacer’, which boasted acid tenderness, and 2002’s ‘Riot Act’, which was all furious punk medleys, those magical moments do feel a little fleeting on this record. A handful of great songs might not be quite enough to sustain a new listener, or placate an older one.
‘Gigaton’’s saving grace? There’s plenty of malcontent here, even if Vedder leaping from amps might be a thing of youthful memory. Here his well-honed, biting lyrics signal fury at a world that seems to have lost its way entirely. The political climate comes into fire and references to grief and loss abound. A resonating line from ‘Comes And Goes’: ‘It’s all vivisection in the end’. Pearl Jam have, undoubtedly, as pioneers and figures that have shaped rock history, earned the right to make whatever the fuck they like. But the question is whether anyone is still listening any more? With this multi-faceted record, the answer is likely yes. It just won’t change your life.
Release date:March 27th on Monkeywrench Records/Republic Records,
“Gouge Away” is the name of a Pixies song, and, as a crew of Floridians noticed nearly a decade ago, an incredible name for a hardcore punk band. While Christina Michelle’s vocals are a bit more unhinged than Black Francis’ unpredictable snarls, the ominous bass-and-snare intro of GA’s ferocious single “Ghost” mimic the foreboding atmosphere of a Doolittle cut, making their “Wave of Mutilation” cover a perfect fit. There isn’t much in the way of modification in the recording, but instead a clear sense of contemporary hardcore punk’s indebtedness to the Boston noise-rock innovators.
Our new 7″, Consider b/w Wave of Mutilation (Pixies cover) will be in stores March 20th. You can hear our new single, 25% of the profits from the sale of the 7″ will be donated to the International Rescue Committee to help immigrants, refugees, and those who have been displaced by natural disasters or attacks on their home.
From the single “Consider b/w Wave of Mutilation” in stores now
One thing you won’t be able to avoid on Bambara’s “Stray” is death. It’s everywhere and inescapable. It would be wrong, however, to characterize the group’s fourth album as simply a dark and gloomy affair. The sonic landscape is varied, showcasing the band at both their heaviest and most nuanced, while the lyrics quickly go from the sublime to the surreal. It is undoubtedly their strongest statement yet.
Bambara released Stray, their full length fully Southern Gothic record. It’s 100% set in Georgia, which is teeming with gothic imagery according to the band. Everything from the moss to the family structures. A little before the album came out we met up to take some pictures at The Broadway, the most Brooklyn place there is. The Bateh brothers Reid and Blaze and their fellow Georgian William Brookshire blend in perfectly well here, but there’s something about them that doesn’t scream maybe quietly creaks like floorboards warped by a humid southern summer that tells you they’re coming from somewhere else.
The album itself is intricate and precise, each song a chapter telling another character’s part in the bigger story. It could come off a little theatrical if you’re not used to it but that’s kind of the whole point. There’s nothing more dramatic than death, and this record is death-obsessed, mainly dark but never dull. The characters were created in a concentrated bout of writing, with Reid calling away from work and submerging himself in this place he was creating. That frantic energy comes out on track 2, “Heat Lightning,” after a super moody opener, “Miracle.” From there it takes you wherever the characters need to go.
“Heat Lightning” was the 3rd single released by Brooklyn-based post-punk band Bambara from their 4th LP, Stray. Formed in Georgia by brothers Reid and Blaze Bateh, Bambara trailed their southern roots to the streets of Brooklyn in 2009. The intoxicating noise of the city streets seems to feel right at home to the group as they find a certain sort of comfort in the claustrophobia of metropolitan life. A quiet city at night feels much more eerie than peaceful, and Bambara is able to capture this sort of darkness in the way they know best – noise.
Reid’s voice is almost evocative of Protomartyr’s Joe Casey and fills it with Girl Band’s anxiety, the darkness of Daughters, and the cinematic sensibilities of The Murder Capital. However, these comparisons all render meaningless because Bambara is uniquely their own in this increasingly saturated landscape of post-punk bands.
Bringing listeners to a realm of their own design, Bambara sets a listener on edge and fills them with adrenaline at the same time. Rather than being set in a New York landscape, the group distances you from reality and into a gothic western. Incredibly dark with slow, droning lyrics on top of a sinister, fast-paced guitar and a western-tinged twang makes “Heat Lightning” cinematic in a way that sends chills down your spine.
Bambara knows how to tell a story and listening becomes a fully immersive experience. The band’s lyrics are darker than they have ever been, focusing on the motif of death. In this track, Death becomes a character, spouting wisdom that rips apart the idea that everything can be explained. It becomes clear that Death is talking directly to you and dread inches through your body with every note. The consequential air of mystery and coldness leaves listeners wanting even more of the stories Bambara is telling, and to experience this haunting realm once more.
Unfold the rest of the mystery on February 14th when Stray is released on Wharf Cat Records.
The beautiful new song ‘Jesus Christ 2005 God Bless America’ is The 1975 at their most fragile and vulnerable,
The haunting acoustic track is taken from the band’s upcoming new album ‘Notes On A Conditional Form”.
Each of the singles released so far from Matty Healy and co.’s upcoming album ‘Notes On A Conditional Form’ bears a sense of Devil-may-care abandon. ‘Jesus Christ 2005 God Bless America’, the band’s latest release, featuring the vocals of heart-breaker Phoebe Bridgers, is yet another change of pace from a gang who cherish the unexpected. Stripped down to mostly vocals and acoustic guitar, this track is the simplest song The 1975 have put their name to since Nana’ (from 2016 album ‘I Like It When You Sleep, for You Are So Beautiful yet So Unaware of It’) but that just allows its haunting beauty to shine.
Leaning into Matty’s desire to create something like Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Nebraska’, it’s stark and personal, made for the comforting embrace of headphones. They’ve played it at live sessions previously and, for a band who embrace being fluid, it’s a testament to the power of ‘Jesus Christ 2005…’ that it hasn’t been tinkered with too much. Its sparseness allows the weighty lyrics room to fully flex.
Balancing at the point of heartbreak, the track sees Matty pondering faith, love and belief. “I’m in love with Jesus Christ,” he sings. “I’m in love with a boy I know but that’s a feeling I can never show.” It’s a world away from the buoyant skip of ‘Me And You Together Song lines, “It’s OK – lots of people think I’m gay but we’re friends, so it’s cool / Why would it not be?”, and packs a gut-wrenching punch. The always-excellent Phoebe Bridgers really elevates the track, though, adding a new point of view. The 1975 have always wanted to soundtracks moments in peoples’ lives and typically that comes in the form of a sense of celebration, but ‘Jesus Christ 2005’ sees them flirt with defeat. It’s fragile and vulnerable. “I’m just a footprint in the snow,” Matty acknowledges. But Bridgers’ lines “I’m in love with the girl next door/her name is Claire / Nice when she comes round to call / And masturbate the second she’s not there” remind us he’s not the only one with a story to tell.
Seven years since their debut, the 1975 are still reaching new heights – and ‘Jesus Christ 2005 God Bless America’ is their most heartfelt, emotional turn yet.
The Greta Thunberg assisted ‘The 1975’ implores rebellious action, Everyone out there, it is now time for civil disobedience, the teenage activist implores – while the hardcore-inspired ‘People’ sees the band at their most furious. ‘Me And You Together Song’ is a heartfelt throwback to simpler times, mirroring their formative years as Drive Like I Do, while the melancholy ‘The Birthday Party’ released in February – provides a twinkling, dreamlike escape from the everyday.
Dirty Hit, under exclusive licence to Polydor Records and Interscope Records Released on: 2020-04-03
“Either Light” is an album for right now. Outside spring is blossoming, the weather is getting milder, and birds are happily chirping away as they prepare nests to nurture this year’s young. The world is returning to life. On the other side of the glass we sit in self-imposed quarantine as a highly contagious virus spreads furiously across international borders, wreaking havoc on the global economy and testing the very limits of our cultural fabric and personal sanity. This startling dichotomy is the essence of Vundabar’s most recent release, an album of ruminations from the dark side set to disarmingly upbeat melodies.
At first blush, Either Light is 11 tracks of lush indie rock and a stylistic departure for the band. Where previous albums were characterized by brash, angular six-string heroics the compositions here feature measured and restrained guitar supported by a myriad of additional sounds that pack each channel to the bursting with engaging melodies and lavish textures. This does not by any means imply that Vundabar has gone soft, quite the opposite. Instead of screaming into the void the band now stands resolute in the face of destructive forces, determined to recognize and beat back against the black with a brighter, more focused light.
A significant portion of Either Light is fixated on death, from insects violently squashed against the grill or reduced to ash in the searing heat of an automobile’s roaring engine, to the quiet passing of a friend from an overdose. But this is not a suicidal album, far from it. Vundabar does not fear the Reaper but they do not embrace him either, instead treating death with a kind of neighborly familiarity and resigned tolerance borne from acknowledging it as the inevitable end of all things. The spread of today’s pandemic underscores this, especially so in regions that have been so mortally impacted by the destructive disruption of daily life. It would have been easy for Vundabar to compose downcast music to score this record but just like the videos of Italians singing songs of happiness from their balconies Either Light’s upbeat tone and driving, forward momentum ensures that even in the face of death we can still dance our way into oblivion.
For Vundabar an impetus of these morbid thoughts is the constant, unyielding grind of the capitalist system. An economic machine designed to separate the wheat from the chaff in a crushing process that expels so much of the human harvest as discarded waste. “I was the wretched rail that takes the train away, to chase elusive dollar on some breathless day” sings vocalist Brandon Hagen on the propulsive “Burned Off,” a vivid image of the working class literally ground under the wheels of industrial progress, left behind and bolted in place as the locomotive of prosperity barrels away into the horizon on the backs of a human infrastructure. “Montage Music” cynically lampoons the wasteful nature of cultural consumerism with a bouncy TV gameshow vibe that cloyingly prescribes “a brand-new soul and a new set of clothes” as the cure for whatever is bringing you down.
The irony here is that in the face of a widespread public health emergency the global economy is in an unprecedented tailspin. Factories shut down, businesses close their doors, bars and restaurants and music venues go dark in an effort to stem the spread of the novel virus. Vundabar didn’t have this specific scenario in mind when writing Either Light, but the band’s sentiments and expressions of fear and frustrations with the current system are universal and borderline prescient when viewed through the lens of current events.
Either Light is a heavy album for heavy times but as chaos unfolds around us it is important to remember that winter is over, life is returning all around us, and with proper precautions, hard work, and the support of our communities we will bounce back. In the meantime, play some Vundabar on Spotify and dance like the world is ending.
‘Either Light’ out March 13th 2020 on Gawk Records
Acid Tongue is a band that actively defies categorization. Their debut LP, Babies, was released in 2017 as an energetic blend of styles ranging from gritty garage rock to vintage soul to far out psychedelia, each seemingly handpicked from a bygone era but markedly immediate and modern. Over the past couple weeks, the band has been micro-dosing the world with a slow drip of singles in preparation for the magnitude of a new, album-length trip and the third tab hits now.
“Follow The Witch” is a real son-of-a-bitch of a track. Kicking off with a fat riff so swampy your speakers will start to sweat and backed with a percussive stomp nothing short of hypnotizing, this is true electric blues. Acid Tongue tap directly into the grand tradition of bayou boogiemen like John Lee Hooker and Junior Kimbrough, but played at a pace fast enough to keep up with prohibition era Mississippi bootleggers outrunning the law in hot-rodded Fords. There’s a real menace here as Guy Keltner delivers lines like “bet you’ll be the first one here that dies/and no one’s gonna miss you” with a snarl that’s both a warning and a dare, building a narrative encouraging the listener to give themselves over to the infernal power of the music. True to their encyclopedic knowledge of music history, Acid Tongue punctuate the track with a series of sugary “ooh-ooh”’s lifted almost pitch-for-pitch from “Sympathy For The Devil,” invoking the Rolling Stones’ sympathetic Satan and all the irresistible power and destruction that follows in his wake.
Acid Tongue’s sophomore LP is set to cover a ton of sonic ground when “Bullies” drops on March 13th via Freakout Records
The album artwork for ‘Container’ displays cans of tinned food – stockpiling chic, if you will – while portentous song titles such as ‘Fear My Society’ and ‘Clearly A Crisis’ could hardly chime more with the doomy current climate.
Comprised of two members of New York art-punks Bodega Madison Velding-VanDam and bassist Heather Elle and completed by drummer Jason Gates, the confident self-produced debut from is riven with taut anxiety and a sense of looming dread.
Madison Velding-VanDam is one busy guy. If he’s not developing and producing the music of Brooklyn art-punkers Bodega, he is racking his brains for the right words as the primary songwriter of The Wants, his buzzy side project. Oh, and if that doesn’t sound like much, Velding-VanDam also switches between lead guitar and bass for both bands, churning out watertight, propulsive riffs while he’s at it.
Madison’s schedule might be busy, but he can’t get enough of the thrill of it. Working double duty for both Bodega and The Wants has provided him with a new creative gateway into arranging and playing guitar with different visions for each respective band. This method has paid off, too; The Wants’ forthcoming debut record, Container, is a bolshy, turbulent 30-minute trip through the darker complexities of American society. It is a whip-smart, forward-thinking body of work and essentially a product of his calculated collaborative process.
Yet it’s also a collection of razor-sharp pop songs that gleam through the gloom. They mine the sinuous basslines and euphoric bleakness of post-punk outfits such as Gang Of Four (with Velding-Van-Dam’s lyrics seemingly similarly preoccupied with stripping away the lies of capitalist and consumerist culture) and the dancefloor nous of bands from their home city (think LCD Soundsystem. So while ‘Clearly A Crisis’ apes Andy Gill’s distinctive, serrated slashes of guitar, the title track ‘Container’ takes us back to the early noughties when Mattie Safer first picked up a cowbell and James Murphy fretted about losing his edge.
The brooding Depeche Mode style existential goth-pop of ‘Fear My Society’ dealing with the post-crash economic fallout of a man pondering his place in the world – proves that Velding-VanDam is worthy of wearing the Dave Gahan-style leather chaps he regularly sports onstage. ‘Ape Trap’ and ‘Hydra’ could be cuts from Interpol totemic first record ‘Turn On the Bright Lights’ , and – inspired by the soundtrack to David Lynch’s cult movie ‘Lost Highway’ ‘The Motor’ is a frantic, pulsating rave-up. The fallout shelter funk of ‘Nuclear Party’ locks into a lolloping Talking Heads groove, with Velding-VanDam sardonically deadpanning lyrics like: Kiss my bombs and I’ll kiss your bones.
Interspersed throughout are dark, ambient instrumentals ‘Machine Room’, ‘Aluminum’, ‘Waiting Room’ and ‘Voltage’. This adds an extra layer of claustrophobia and menace, but also feels like the band are padding out a very good eight-track album into 12 songs.
Still that’s a minor quibble – as ‘Container’ is a masterful statement of intent, The Motor, Container, and Ape Trap are three tracks fromContainer that signal our path forward. These best reflect our effort to mix our influences of dance, post-punk, and pop genres we’re drawn to in exciting ways. I can see us making even more danceable and vocal melody heavy music.
I don’t feel finished engaging with the lyrical and visual themes of this record, either. The dark heart of America and the complexities of my country’s iconography still keep me searching for answers.
Since the last time we heard from Aaron Maine of Porches, he’s spent some time holed up in his New York apartment, immersing himself in his emotions and creating more low-key electronic ballads. In the space of a decade, this project has consistently delivered raw and understated synth-pop. The sounds reflects his ‘look’; it’s glossy and glamorous. Luckily it’s also incredibly compelling.
2018’s ‘The House’, his third album, delivered colourful, vibrant pop while showcasing an intimate internal dialogue about seeking clarity of your own emotions. Maine recently said of his creative process: “My aim is to swim to the bottom of myself and find the most beautiful and strange things I can offer.” He’s essentially put the magnifying glass on this concept with latest record ‘Ricky Music’, and although the production is rich and textured, it also feels less polished here, as though he’s thrown his thoughts and feeling straight into the laptop.
Maine’s mournful vocal leads the way on opener ‘Patience’, evoking a sense of struggle and dogged self-belief. “Cause I’m rooting for you / And I’m rooting for me / And I’m rooting for that baby”, he sings, alluding to a complicated relationship over poignant and dramatic synths. The accompanying video depicts Aaron being pelted with basketballs, through which he battles to the other side of a gym; it’s a smart reference to his resolve to deal with everything life throws his way.
None of these synth-pop songs are longer than they need to be. This album is like a well-kept diary, neat entries playing part of a much bigger picture. Things continue in this vein with ‘Do U Wanna’ and ‘Lipstick Song’, which further explore the minimal and spacious electro sound.
You get the sense that Maine has as many sultry synth-pop bangers inside him as he pleases but, while he’s capable of dominating a more mainstream territory, he refuses to indulge in such temptations. Instead he’s taken the road less travelled, carefully placing his honey-sweet lines and choosing the moments to excite the senses musically. The occasional hard-hitting synth brings to mind something between the sounds of Stranger Things and Twin Peaks.
Still, Porches knows when to cut loose. There’s a shiny glamour to the Italo-disco synths throughout, which peak on the ’80s-influenced ‘I Wanna Ride’. “Each day the night falls,” he sings, “I stare at the moon ’til my eyes get so messed up / I can almost see you”. This is swiftly followed by the minimal acid-rave sounds of ‘Madonna’. It feels like the album has been building to this pivotal moment of release.
Whether he continues to be a minimal outlier like friend and collaborator (Sandy) Alex G, or makes a bolder move towards the limelight with his next step, you get the feeling that Aaron Maine isn’t a man who’ll make concessions to the mainstream. This effort is a bold step that shows no compromise on the horizon
Porches – “Patience”, from ‘Ricky Music’, out now on Domino Record Co.
Kings of Leon’s Caleb Followill has shared a new acoustic number called ‘Going Nowhere’ to help raise awareness of Live Nation’s Global Relief Fund to support live music crews and venues during the COVID-19 battle, Kings of Leon have shared new acoustic track ‘Going Nowhere’ amidst the coronavirus pandemic.
The US rockers posted a black and white video of the performance of the song by frontman Caleb Followill sat on the edge of a couch playing the acoustic guitar and singing.
He belts out: “It’s a long, hard road / ‘Til I can get to you / And I’ll be holding on / Hoping the sun comes shining through / I’m going nowhere.” The song was posted on social media to help raise awareness of Live Nation’s Global Relief fund, which has been setup to help support live music crews and the touring and venues industry, which has been heavily-disrupted by the COVID-19 crisis.
Kings of Leon captioned the clip posted on Instagram: “Stay safe. Stay home. We will see you as soon as we can.” “Going Nowhere” couldn’t be more apt, given that most of the world is quarantined or on lockdown.The ‘Sex on Fire’ hitmakers – whose last studio album was 2016’s ‘Walls’ – are due to return to London for the first time in three years for an exclusive performance at Finsbury Park in June. Caleb and co will be joined at their Finsbury Park show by Courteeners, Cage The Elephant, Inhaler, Soccer Mommy, and The Big Moon, with more acts still to be announced across two stages. The show will form part of a small UK tour, which will also see them play two arena dates at Newcastle’s Utilita Arena on July 7, and Leeds’ First Direct Arena on July 8th.
However, at the time of writing, the US rockers are yet to announce whether the shows will still go ahead.Their recent festival appearances have seen the band play at Lollapalooza in Brazil, Chile, and Berlin, Rock Werchter, Benicàssim, and Mexico’s Pal Norte to a crowd of over 100,000 people. The ‘Waste A Moment’ musicians also played Reading and Leeds festival in the UK, but have not set foot on a stage in the capital city since 2017.
