Posts Tagged ‘Iowa’

Elizabeth Moen is a singer-songwriter and guitarist based out of Iowa City, Iowa. Her sophomore LP “A Million Miles Away” is out now!

Elizabeth Moen wraps “Headgear” in an arrangement that sparkles agreeably, but Moen herself is the song’s radiant star: She throws herself headlong into every word, letting her distinct and impeccable phrasing lead the way. Hers is a voice made to turn heads, and by the time she hits the song’s tidily conversational closing remark — “Well, how ’bout that” — you wouldn’t dream of turning away.

On “A Million Miles Away” her songs shift fluidly; Opener “Red” and “Best I Can Do” portray the soulful side of her voice while “Triple Scoop” and “Matilda” recall folky, summer pop. “Don’t Say I” and “Bad to Myself” pull in heavier tones, augmented by her 1968 Gibson ES-340, while the final tracks, “Time is a Shitty Friend” and “Planetarium,” act as closing arguments for the album. The two tracks encapsulate aspects of each preceding track, at times both heavy and soft – equal parts whimsy (“Cuz I’m high and I’m reading about stars and shit”) and sadness (“…and it’s feeding / My thoughts about us together in some other universe”), while the echo of a longing to be “a million miles away” plays out.

On her sophomore LP “A Million Miles Away,” Moen tackles the complexities that coincide with the basic need for growth. At points light-hearted and sombre, and even wry, her lyrics mirror what it’s like to be alive: to wake up each day and attempt to balance the myriad of emotions that go along with being human. In “Triple Scoop” this all perfectly comes together in relation to the age-old problem of sweet, melting ice cream meeting concrete (“Triple scoop sorbet splattered on the sidewalk / Bit of cherry pie hanging off your lip / Why wipe it away, it’s just you and me talking? You’re the cherry on top of my double chocolate chip”). Throughout the album’s eight songs, you are reminded that it’s possible (and ok!) to feel broken and carefree, nostalgic and hopeful, to be utterly content but still have an incredible sense of longing.

Written by: Elizabeth Moen

Performed by:
Elizabeth Moen – vocals, guitar
Caoimhe Barry- vocals, drums
Oisín Furlong- bass, synth
Alan Dooley- guitar

Iowa’s Giving Up (with members in both Minnesota and Kentucky) like to play it loose. It’s kind of their gift. On the band’s sophomore album, Garner Cardinals, the band’s ramshackle punk is, intentionally, coming apart at the seems, and it’s exactly what makes them a great band. Developing their sound over the past decade, it’s tightly wound slop-perfection, an intimate look into trash-pop that wriggles with a twitchy disposition and enough charm to choke us all. It’s not always pleasant, but it’s essential for flavor. The more you listen, the better it gets. Led by Mikie Poland and Jenny Rose, the band’s harmonies tighten around simple progressions, expanding what often seems askew into something poetic

It’s strange to believe that Giving Up’s latest and greatest effort Garner Cardinals is only their third official full-length since forming over a decade ago in the unfinished basement bedrooms of rural Iowa. For a band that’s toured no less than semi-actively around the calendar and self-released no fewer than too-many-to-count cassette and CD-R transmissions throughout the course of some Bush Deuce, double Obamas, and whatever the fuck is happening now…one would be misled in thinking the scarcity of their studio output would imply any lack in overall drive.

Like their label co-conspirators and spiritual siblings State Champion, Giving Up is a geographically challenged unit. With membership ranging from Minnesota to Kentucky plus a couple places in between, a bulk of the creative grunt is handled by head songwriter / visual artist Mikie Poland and his key collaborator / key boarder Jenny Rose (w/ additional contributions by Sean Roth, Aaron Osbourne, Dusty Van Ness) – trading ideas over the years by phone, mail, smoke signal, psychic will, home recordings, home visits and the like. 

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But very much un-like their earlier outings in the LP format – the charming yet head-scratchingly produced debut Gthrowing Up (2009) and better but nearly aborted follow-up [peace sign / frown face] (2012), both cursed with more coincidental oddities and studio mishaps than a tragi-comedy classic rock mockumentary – Garner Cardinals is a statement made on the band’s own desired terms. Engineered by their touring drummer Dusty Van Ness in the comfort of his Minneapolis home, the record is a best-of-both whirlwind delivering DIY bedroom grunge aesthetics with a self-puffed studio sheen. Serving not only as a natural stepping stone from the dumpster-fi fog of a Jad Fair-fronted Screeching Weasel tape boiled to perfection in a roadside hotel tub exhibited on recent tour trinkets, but also as a “coming of age” mark for Poland’s idiosyncratic song-kraft.

From the album opener “My Body” a gate-blast of jangled energy lighting the stage for skeptically optimistic dandelion punk to follow – through the motoric schoolyard kraut-pop of “April Showers” to the memorably off-kilter closer “People’s Records,” rounding out the album in a sizzling glory of rambling narrative poetics, the band’s bar is undoubtedly raised over the course of these ten tracks. And if you ask me, we’re all better for it.

Garner Cardinals is both littered with and colored by images of Giving Up’s own little America – an unknowingly large yet strangely intimate midwestern wasteland layered with spray-painted alters, misoriented gravestones, natural beauty, body dysmorphia, hamburger sunsets, small-town bad news, battery-operated memories, haunted mansions, shameless fantasies, forever-friendships, and an ultimate sacrifice of going deaf for what they love. By the time we’re flipping it over for a second listen, the Cardinals‘ song is already wormed deeply into our ears en route to our skeptically optimistic dandelion hearts, if not a larger collective midwestern sub-conscious awaiting. Rural Iowan rock music in the almost-2020s. What the fuck could it even sound like? Is it good? Well, I’ll tell you. It’s a familiar song – catchy, sweet, abstract, loud…”pretty bird, pretty bird…”

William Elliott Whitmore Esmé Patterson Play Each Other's Songs

William Elliott Whitmore & Esme Patterson are both critically acclaimed and beloved by their fans for their distinct voices and style of songcraft. Whitmore’s hauntingly sparse rural twang and earthy, weather beaten vocals and Patterson’s dreamy 60’s soul-pop flecked indie sound might seem like a strange pairing at first, but these two seemingly very different songwriters have come together on this limited edition 7″ to do exactly what the title says… play each other’s songs. Two artists paying mutual respect to one another, showcasing each other’s unique songwriting prowess in their own thoroughly well-developed and road-tested style for a short musical detour.

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Christopher the Conquered wants you to read between the lines. That said, he’s got a damn good reason for naming his full-length debut album, I’m Giving Up On Rock & Roll [Maximum Ames Records].

“I’m not referring to music,” he explains. “It’s the idea of Rock & Roll as a metaphor for misrepresenting yourself. Living behind a mask or a façade is not a healthy way to live. That’s what I’m giving up on. People love Rock & Roll, and I love Rock & Roll. However, the person I am onstage is also the person I am offstage.”

It’s this sort of pure honesty that defines the album’s nine tracks, and it’s also why Christopher made some serious waves in 2015. The Iowa singer, songwriter, and performer has crafted a declaratory musical statement that’s impossible to ignore. In the summer of 2015, he shared the stage with Natalie Prass and handed her an early copy of I’m Giving Up On Rock & Roll. She in turn passed it on to Ryan Adams who took to Twitter and Instagram calling the album, “Crazy and incredible.” Soon after, Christopher landed on the front page of Reddit and in Billboard as the title track and single “I’m Giving Up On Rock & Roll” quickly passed 60,000 plays on Soundcloud. This properly set the stage for the album’s 2016 release.

“I wanted this to be a cohesive experience that takes listeners on a journey,” he goes on. “This album strips everything back; this is me.”

Mapping out the skeleton of the record from the piano melodies to the horns in his Iowa basement, Christopher had architected a clear vision by the time he entered Ardent Studios in Memphis with producer Patrick Tape Fleming. As a result, they cut the entire album to tape in just nine days.

The music segues from pensive lyricism to heavenly horns and resounding keys on the likes of the elegiacally gorgeous “On My Final Day.”

“I always want people to really focus on the lyrics,” he says. “The song is about contemplating the way you spend your time and the one life you have. It comes out in a positive light asking the question, ‘What impact did I make?’”

Everything culminates on the delicate strings and guitars of “I’m Not That Famous Yet” where Christopher’s self-effacing philosophizing reaches divine heights as expansive as his vocal range.

“I was in a bit of a jealous mood,” he admits. “I was watching a band, and I wrote this in response to the silliness of the interplay between the audience and the artist. After I wrote the song, I sorta snapped out of it and realized that group worked their asses off up to that point and brought joy to every person in the room. Now, I get excited for another artist’s success because it means there are opportunities for me to do what I want to do.”

Christopher has known what he wanted to do since growing up in an Iowa town of just 1,300. Without even an antenna for the family TV let alone cable, he became obsessed with music through listening to Motown and classic rock & roll with his parents and repeatedly watching Disney classics like The Lion King and The Jungle Book on repeat. He taught himself drums, trumpet, piano, and guitar, even auditing a college Jazz History class at just 12-years-old alongside his dad. He also found music via faith. Living in a devoutly religious home, he spent a lot of time in church.

“Our church was full of music, and I even played for a while as part of a worship group there. The experience taught me the power of music to connect with people on an emotional level. That spiritual feeling is something that has stuck with me, and that I try to inject into my performances.”

Throughout, Christopher architected a sound that’s both poetically ponderous and theatrically bombastic. Now, he’s officially sharing it.

“This album isn’t for me,” he leaves off. “The art happens when you’re alone at the piano. I got my satisfaction from that part of the process. Now, I’ve created something for the world. I want people to reflect on their lives and what they’re doing when they listen to this and feel happy. There’s no reason to live under any pretense or obligations other than your own passion and love. The album is about that.”

Christopher the Conquered performing “I’m Giving Up on Rock and Roll” at Sofar Milwaukee on October 9th, 2015. Click here to come to a show in your city: http://www.sofarsounds.com/signup

From the album Cult Following, which came out May 6th, 2016 on Merge Records. If it is the only new track you’ve listened to from Little Scream, a.k.a. Laurel Sprengelmeyer, is the ultra danceable “Love as a Weapon,” you’d be forgiven — it is a definite summer jam. But you’d also be missing out on the beautiful, twisted collection that is Cult Following, the Iowa-born, Montreal-based songwriter’s sophomore release. “Every disaster has a beautiful start,” sings Sprengelmeyer on “The Kissing,” a track that features the vocals of TV on the Radio’s Kyp Malone, and a layered standout among songs that feature Sufjan Stevens and Sharon Van Etten. Mary Margaret O’Hara’s vocals make an appearance on the haunting “Wishing Well,” and the full project was produced by Arcade Fire’s Richard Reed Parry. No one’s calling it a concept album, but Cult Following contains 12 seamless tracks that have collected some dedicated followers.