This Kansas City songwriter made a strong debut with her stately, elegant full-length, The first two singles from Anna St. Louis’ debut album If There Only Was a River (“Understand” and “The Bells”) introduce us to the songwriter’s subtle fingerpicking style, but on “Desert,” the third, her husky tenor absolutely steals the spotlight. Low-lit by slow-burning electric guitar, St. Louis’ bewitchingly deep voice is a commanding force on the track and on the entire record.

If There Only Was a River is St. Louis’ proper full-length debut, the follow-up to First Songs, a tape of songs she released last year on Woodsist/Mare Records (now available digitally, too). St. Louis’ warm, dusty acoustic renderings need no introduction, but her new record arrives with a few familiar names attached: Kevin Morby and King Tuff’s Kyle Thomas are producers, and Night Shop’s Justin Sullivan, along with Pavo Pavo’s Oliver Hill, are both featured on the album’s 11 tracks

St. Louis uses nostalgic strings and expertly positioned vocal phrases to draw the listener into her heady, mesmerizing world, full of wobbly melodies and intently stated folk koans that continue to unfold in your mind long after the song comes to a close. Sometimes the simplest things are the most important, and St. Louis wields that wisdom with the dexterity of an expert, even though she’s just starting out.

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Sun June shares some commonalities with another Austin, Texas outfit , all the more reason to keep a steadfast ear to the ground for music coming out of that particular city.  on Years, the band’s debut full-length for Keeled Scales, Laura Colwell and company offer up ten spare tracks that synthesize 1960s pop, early-2000s r&b, and country ornamentations, Colwell’s electric piano and the telecaster’s more mellow spectrum teaming up with a tasteful rhythm section for slow-burning standouts like “Johnson City” and the muted gleam of opening number “Discotheque.”

‘Discotheque’ by Sun June From Years, debut LP, Released June 15th, 2018 via Keeled Scales

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When Kacey Musgraves says “Love Is A Wild Thing” she isn’t talking about the feral passion that animates so many rock songs. Animal lust on the order of the Troggs is left to the imagination on Golden Hour. Rather, Musgraves is comparing love to an unstoppable force of nature: a river dead-set on finding the ocean, a flower blooming through cracks in the concrete. It won’t be denied. “If you try to hide it, it’s gonna shine even more.”

She speaks from experience. Musgraves wrote and recorded Golden Hour while basking in the glow of her young marriage to fellow singer-songwriter Ruston Kelly. Apparently, theirs is a casual but all-consuming affection, one that turns an evening at home into an easygoing swoon and makes a weekend apart feel like an endless toil. It’s a comfortable, lived-in kind of love, realistic about fears and flaws even as it sends her heart aflutter and sets her world on fire. Musgraves translated those sensations into the year’s most spectacular album, a collection of songs as irresistible as the romance that inspired it.

Viewed more broadly, Golden Hour is an album about family. It’s centered on her new life with Kelly, but those portraits of intimacy are accented by glimpses of Musgraves longing to reconnect with her relatives, as if moved by this fresh domestic bliss to reestablish bonds that have deteriorated over time. On “Mother,” she calls her mom during an acid trip and admits, “I wish we didn’t live so far from each other,” expressing a similar sentiment elsewhere about her sister. On the spellbinding “Slow Burn,” in the most quoted lyric on the album, she flashes back to a moment she wishes she’d handled better: “Texas is hot, I can be cold/ Grandma cried when I pierced my nose.”

These reflections are couched in gently sighing country songs that glimmer like a waking dream. From a string section that evokes Beck’s Sea Change to a vocoder chorus seemingly borrowed from Daft Punk, Musgraves distills a wide-open sky full of influences into a welcoming signature sound. This is music you can luxuriate in, charmingly simple on the surface even as it brims with gorgeous detail, lightly psychedelic but always tethered to real life. Musgraves’ lyrics are disarming in the same way, a series of plainspoken vignettes so matter-of-fact that all the clever turns of phrase take months to reveal themselves. There is no wink and no strain. Again and again, the album makes the incredible feel as natural as breathing.

Golden Hour occasionally deviates from its main themes, resulting in some of its brightest highlights: the spectral breakup ballad “Space Cowboy,” the country-disco kiss-off “High Horse,” the tender piano parable “Rainbow.” The album makes room for a complicated view of the human experience, not just lovestruck reverie. But its throughline, and the source of its enduring magnetism, is an optimism that transcends even its central love story. “Oh, what a world/ I don’t wanna leave,” Musgraves marvels. “There’s all kinds of magic/ It’s hard to believe.” In an increasingly dark and cynical society that makes living with a sense of wonder seem impossible, there was Golden Hour all year offering an alternate perspective — a respite, a salve, maybe even a compass. For 46 minutes at a time, it’s not too good to be true.

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In the 18 months since Crystal Balloon’s first EP, Hurricane there’s been a few changes, both in personnel and in style.
They have a new permanent bass player, Charlie Molyneux to mesh with drummer and original member Eric Karvik and the key addition of a second guitarist Tim Burden, who also contributes strong support vocals has allowed founder member Jack Stanton the space to develop his already excellent guitar playing and powerful vocals.
They come to their second EP, People in a position of some strength, boosted by a series of excellent live performances, including a live video shoot at The Lantern.
Familiarity with the band’s music is quickly re-established by the two openers ‘Beat the Traffic’ and ‘Diesel Dreams’, particularly in the latter, where we begin to appreciate the benefit of the two guitar approach.
But the magnificent ‘Signal’, written with sadness, disbelief and admiration in the immediate aftermath of David Bowie’s death, begins to take the EP in a different and more expansive direction. “We’ll get a message across the zodiac, to ask The Starman when is he coming back”. Ah, if only…
Stanton switches to acoustic for ‘Open the Box’ and pulls out his strongest vocal performance in this collection, the smoothness of the musical delivery being punctuated midway by a chiming exchange of notes between the two guitars. 

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I had a minor moan about Hurricane, that it wasn’t longer and again here, it’s a pity this wasn’t an album because anyone who follows the band live will know that there’s a lot more excellent material in the locker.
The closer, ‘Don’t Turn Off The Rain’ with it’s sparse, choppy opening rhythm building to a powerful mid-section, dropping back again to relative calm, then signing off with a blast is a fitting conclusion to an EP that very effectively consolidates the band’s credentials.

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The Austin duo Hovvdy joined the ranks of double double whammy for their second full-length, their warm, lived-in nostalgic turns slotting nicely into the label’s aesthetic.  Cranberry finds Hovvdy using a familiar palette as a foundation for cautious forays into tangential sonic realms; the gorgeous lilt of  the stand-out cut “truck” is punctuated by wisps of pedal steel, an affective presentation of reflective recollection.

Hovvdy – “Petal” Off their new album, “Cranberry” Released February 9th, 2018 on Double Double Whammy

Wilco may have set a high water mark for experimental Americana with 2002’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and 2004’s A Ghost is Born, but frontman Jeff Tweedy has spent the intervening years slowly inching away from the abstract and obtuse elements of those LPs, in favor of more direct and explicit songwriting. Warm, his first proper album under his own name, marks the exceptional culmination of that approach. Written in the wake of his father’s passing, and as Tweedy enters his 50s, these deeply intimate and skeletal songs consider what it means to remain in the present, what it means to be a link in a family chain, and what it means to appreciate the joys of life even as darkness threatens to swallow us whole.

Rarely has Tweedy conveyed so much emotion with such sparse arrangements. On standout track “How Hard It is for a Desert to Die,” each vivid note of his acoustic guitar carries remarkable emotional heft. On opening track “Bombs Above,” he recounts his battle with opioid addiction in a near-whisper—“I’m taking a moment to apologize,” he sings—backed by knotted guitars and his elder son, Spencer, gently thumping the drums. Even “Let’s Go Rain,” a major-key jangle and the album’s most accessible track, utilizes its sunny melody as a foil for an allegory of total destruction, and the deception makes it all the more chilling.

On “War on War,” from Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, Tweedy proclaimed, with then-typical abstraction, that “You have to learn how to die / If you want to want to be alive.” Throughout Warm, he conveys his gratitude for that life with a clarity and solemnity that, finally, brings that sentiment into sharp focus. “I don’t believe in heaven,” he sings on the album’s title track. For Tweedy, heaven, and hell, are right here on earth.

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When Damien Jurado toured his new album, The Horizon Just Laughed, he did so while wearing a variety of plain-color jumpsuits that were less Devo and more “I work in a factory.” Appropriate, anyway, as he’s been working like a factory worker for over twenty years now, steadily releasing album after album of hopelessly reliable nylon-string folk-rock that you could set your watch to. Good old fashioned American craftsmanship. Or something like that. Jurado’s music has been frequently taken for granted over time—it seems as if each album is warmly received and then moved on from—and that’s likely partially due to the fact that, from a distance, it can sound similar to what one might call modern mood music. It’s much more than that, of course, but a playful awareness of that perception is part of what makes “Percy Faith” one of Jurado’s best-ever written songs, it being named after the inventor of mood music, Mr. Percy Faith. The time-travelling saga is almost epistolary in nature—we’re dropped into the middle of what appears to be a letter directed at various semi-forgotten entertainers like Faith, Ray Conniff, and Allan Sherman—but “Stan” this is not. Jurado’s world is dreamy, sure, and you might not notice it at first, but the assembly line catches up to everyone eventually

Damien Jurado, “Percy Faith” from the album “The Horizon Just Laughed” out May 4, 2018 on Secretly Canadian

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Technically, Sidney Gish’s No Dogs Allowedcame out in 2017; the Northeastern student put the album up on Bandcamp on December 31st “mainly due to panic rather than intention,” as she explains it, having intended to finish it sooner, but only finding the proper amount of time to do so during the lull at the end of the year. That’s a fitting entry point into Gish’s state of mind: a distinctly millennial (post-millennial, ) strain of near-constant worry underscores her music, but  there’s almost always a joke right there behind it.

“Every other day I’m wondering,” she considers on “Impostor Syndrome”—just one of many songs on No Dogs Allowed that you will decide is your “favourite” at one point or another—“What’s a human being gotta be like? / What’s a way to just be competent?” But before she’s even caught her breath after that existential aside, she’s already laughing it off: “I don’t blend in at PetSmart / That truth holds true at the WalMart / In either case they say to me / What the fuck is lost in aisle 3?”

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Gish is a triple threat—besides being a crack lyricist able to invite you into her own world while also managing to relate to yours, she’s a stellar guitarist, and has an extremely gentle melodic touch to boot. Also, she managed to mix the whole damn album using just Apple earbuds and a car stereo. Every song on No Dogs Allowed is a joy, even when Gish is singing about the terrors of adulthood—because, god, how could you hear a song like “Where the Sidewalk Ends” and be afraid of anything at all? It’s all going to be OK, even if it isn’t.

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On her debut EP Sugar & Spice, the young Australian singer songwriter Hatchie has established herself as one of the smartest and most eloquent voices in indiepop. Written in the glow of her first romantic relationship, these five songs deliver grandiose melodies and glimmering arrangements that recall the sparkly jangle of Real Estate. By exploring the space, implicit in the project’s title, where the saccharine euphoria of budding romance ends and its grittier complexities begin,

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Australian singer-songwriter Hatchie released her debut EP, Sugar & Spice, in May, and she’s been kicking up quite the shimmery storm ever since. She’s currently playing a sold-out string of tour dates with Alvvays and Snail Mail (what you might call an indie fan’s dream lineup). Before supporting that bill at a trio of shows at Warsaw in Brooklyn, N.Y., Hatchie carved out time to play a set in the Paste Studio, and her starry session is guaranteed to make your day brighter.

1. Sure 0:47 2. Sugar & Spice 6:19 3. Bad Guy 10:41 Watch Hatchie live at Paste Studio NYC

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So, we’re in the final home straight on the lead-up to Christmas, we’ve had some last-minute releases that might just be perfect for that special someone. plus, there is loads to look forward to for next year, back in the present (pun intended), the album at the top of your want list this week ‘Popcorn Lung: a Polytechnic Youth Collection’, which collects rare and exclusive tracks from some of this label’s brightest artists.

If you’re in the mood for something loud, the ever-active Ty Segall has a scuzzy treat for us that’ll blow the winter lurgy clean out of our systems. teaming up with wife & caustic vocalist, Denee Segall, The C.i.a.’s debut leans towards the heavier, punkier side of Ty’s work & features more than enough guitar freakouts to keep us elated. The always brilliant Decemberists’ aptly-timed December ep release features a delicious set of b-sides from the ‘I’ll be Your Girl’ recording sessions. You also get a cheeky little surprise from Aliment’s latest instalment: Barcelona’s answer to Meat wave & Menace beach – noisy & nice punk in equal measure.

The Wave Pictures’ ‘Look Inside Your Heart’ is on cd & vinyl. have a wonderful Christmas & a Happy Vinyl new year,

John Mellencamp, Other People’s Stuff

Other People’s Stuff is a new collection of covers that shows Mellencamp applying his knack for storytelling to ten staples from the American music canon. The material is culled mostly from his own albums, hard-to-find compilations, and documentary soundtracks. Mellencamp also recorded a brand-new version of “Eyes on the Prize,” a standard that he had performed at The White House for the 2010 Celebration of Music from the Civil Rights Movement at the request of President Obama.

Image of The Felice Brothers - The Felice Brothers (10th Anniversary Reissue)

This reissue marks the 10th anniversary of the release of their seminal Self Titled album. This special re-issue includes two never-before-heard outtakes from the Self Titled recording sessions: Baltimore, and Watersider... included on a 7” with the LP (180G), and as bonus tracks on CD.

Cherished by fans and critics alike, this fifteen track opus by the Catskill Mountain based band of brothers boasts classics like Frankie’s Gun, Wonderful Life, Whisky In My Whisky and Don’t Wake The Scarecrow, and remains one of the most influential works of this century’s indie-folk-rock revival.

Hailing from upstate New York’s Catskills Mountains, the Felice Brothers look like their entire approach was based on staring long and hard at the Band’s second album cover: Beards, white shirts, hats and ill-fitting suits. The comparisons to Big Pink/Basement-era Dylan are also inevitable.

Yet this second album proper from the three siblings and their bass player Christmas (an ex-travelling dice player, apparently) is so chock full of whiskey-soaked, ramshackle bonhomie that it’d be a hard-hearted music critic indeed who didn’t succumb to the charms contained therein. The group have somehow taken Americana and wrung out some more good times. It’s time to visit the bar again…

With most of the numbers croaked out by brother Ian, whose vocal chords draw most of the Zimmerman comparisons, this is a collection of songs that are equal parts travelogue, shaggy dog story, drunken lament and filched traditional fare. They’re all captured in gloriously scratchy lo-fi (complete with ambient chat, phone conversations and other audio verite) as befits a band whose last recordings were supposedly completed in a chicken coup on a two-track.

Like Dylan, their self-mythologising puts them not in the modern age, but somewhere in the early part of the last century. Jaunty, piano-led ballads like Greatest Show On Earth or Take This Bread are lifted by parping brass and rollicking choruses, like a night out in a riverfront bar, filled with unfaithful women and gun-toting men (guns are mentioned in just about every song) bent on drunken revenge. Elsewhere the waltz time of Ruby Mae approaches a Tom Waits-like pathos. Whiskey In My Whiskey sounds like a murder ballad that’s centuries old.

Yet all these tales are shot through with a red-eyed humour that sounds as authentic as their beards. This is how they manage to convince the listener. Frankie’s Gun! With it’s truck driving narrative and wheezing accordion is particularly hilarious. Rather than some studious authenticity, they sound like they’re just having a good time. And that’s just about the only recommendation you need to seek out this fine album…

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The CIA – The CIA

“This record is an encapsulation. The omnipresent fear and anger. Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? And what is really going on? Consternation…today… There is difficulty, frustration, strain and a large snake. You can feel the pressure of it breathing on the streets, in media, and in your lunch. This s/t, by The C.I.A., is an urgent musical notice. I feel it immediately. The pointed vocal cadence and lyrics of Denée Segal is a sharp scythe, and the actual time is…now. “I feel the same distress call and disposition from Crass records like Penis Envy or DIRT. In fact, if you took that, mixed in “Black Silk Stocking” by Chrisma and a touch of early Nic Endo (Atari Teenage Riot) and even Dinah Cancer (45 Grave) Autopsy era, you can get a feeling. And, similarly to those mentioned, Denée is putting a time stamp on this time. The spirit and her viability is strong in many a corner, and in many a heart. The alarm is ringing. “This is survival sound, put on record well backed by Ty Segall and Emmett Kelly, who have added anything-musthappen, mercurial, constantly moving instrumentation. The sounds, consistent with unique monochrome, move like an engine, made gas-tight by piston rings. Sonic rings moving in tight machine patterns. And at the vocal helm is Denée, steering this machine in vocal directions across an exclamation point motorway. No salt, all salt. Traction and reaction. They built a sound machine with, and for each other. Survival sound lifts its head up when it needs to. Thankfully it gets put on record and released when it needs to.” —Tim Presley

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The Yardbirds – 1964 – 1966 Live at the BBC (Vol 2)

Broadcasts from the BBC archives and beyond. Recorded between 1964 and 1966. It features seminal performances by guitarists Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page.

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Estrons  –  You Say I’m Too Much, I Say You’re Not Enough

The hotly-tipped Welsh alt-rock outfit Estrons release their much-anticipated debut album You Say I’m Too Much, I Say You’re Not Enough. The record is the culmination of over two years hard touring and honing of a sound that has become theirs and theirs alone.

thanks everyone for your views and support,