Carl Sandburg Visits Me In A Dream

‘Oh, dear!’, I say to this intriguing amalgamation of klezmer, Ladino, electronica, and Eastern European influences that is Oi Va Voi. With the release of their 4th LP Travelling the Face of the Globe, this quintet has certainly proved their mettle in transforming traditional European Jewish rhythms into bonafide folk-rock.

It’s a risky proposition when a trumpet and clarinet help make up a band’s core, but there’s always the chance that you’re in for something real special. And certainly if KT Tunstall saw enough in this collective to be involved infrequently for a few years, then hopefully you the listener will find this worthwhile as well. But it gets better: Travelling the Face of the Globe was partly recorded in an old synagogue in London, giving fullness and inspiration to this complex fusion of modernity and tradition.

Check out Travelling the Face of the Globe.

Listen to “Waiting”

Listen to “Magic Carpet“

On the docket today: Miles Davis and his silky smooth “Flamenco Sketches.”

Relax, Miles is here.

“Flamenco Sketches“

I’m not really sure what to do with Fink. Is he writing folk music or some peculiarly joyful derivation of it? Is he writing about why division is futile or why unity is fruitful? Is he accessible or almost-frustratingly inconsistent? While these questions might hint at some musical identity crisis or some marketing failure–I’m not really sure. So all I can tell you is what I think of the music off of Fink’s Sort of Revolution and that’s it.

I know I like “If I Had A Million”, and no, it isn’t some strange cover version of the BNL’s song. The bright guitar illuminates this entire track, giving it a sense of warmth underneath Fink’s lush vocals. I might like “Maker” more if there was a little more to it. The echoing icy backbeat starts out the song well enough, and the layering of Fink’s vocals provides ample dissonance and resolution for my enjoyment. But it feels too improvisatory, as though you the listener are supposed to fill in the blanks (there’s an idea, Beck). I think I like “Sort of Revolution” and then I think I don’t like it (does that help?). It just seems too circumloquatious: “Let me know when we get there/if we get there.” I don’t love “Move on Me” because it sounds like a cheap imitation of Air. I’m mighty sure I love “Walking in the Sun”–it’s jubilant soulful disposition makes it one of the major highlights on this album.

Just get the dang album and see for yourself! Sort of Revolution.

Listen to “Walking in the Sun”

Listen to “If I Had a Million“

To draw comparisons of oneself to Mozart is either a sardonic or a bold statement; I suppose it’s all about context. So here it is: Phoenix played back up for fellow French duo Air on “Kelly Watch the Stars”. And behind the musical direction and vocal stylings of Thomas Mars, it’s been up and up for Phoenix since then. Think of French bombast with American ingenuity, think of heavy synths with twangy guitars, think high-charged rock songs. There’s Phoenix for you.

The French collective’s new LP Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix is characteristically short but to the point. They don’t beat around the bush, avoiding flowery bridges and avant-garde interludes and preludes. So I’ll do the same. Lead track “Lisztomania” is in Phoenix’s classic frenetic and disciplined rock style , while “Fences” features a splendid bass line to accompany the scrumptious falsetto chorus. The jumpy “Lasso” seems like a song taken out Vampire Weekend’s playbook, but not without Mars imprinting his signature vocal repetition of “Where would you go?”. Both “Rome” and “Girlfriend” offer up complex rhythm structures, that make for an interesting and intriguing listen.

Though it never feels like Phoenix is waging a war on your ears–they’re far too listenable to do that!–they seem to feel the need to end the album with “Armistice” (see what I did there?), a farewell track that leaves me wanting just a little bit more.

I’m sure you want more too. So check out Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix.

Listen to “Fences”

Listen to “Lisztomania“

Kingdom of Rust is quite a daring album title for British rock collective Doves. Not because it stakes a claim to recreating something of the past, but because it stands the risk of irony (pun intended). Are they referring to themselves, who took 4+ years to release a new album? Perhaps not, but it nonetheless is exhibitionist in the sense that it draws attention to themselves.

Doves made their moody rock a wild success back in 2005, with the release of their Some Cities.  The album still stands as one of my favorites of all time, and it was exemplary of a band destined for some analog of greatness. But then life happened to the band, what with marriages and babies and the like, and so it is only now that we have Kingdom of Rust. Despite the time that has passed, the moodiness is still there. And the promise for greatness is still there. Like many of the great British bands that have preceded them, Doves have an ability to sanctify both the faster-paced and the more downtempo songs of theirs, giving a genuine dynamism that goes deeper than just the sheen of a granny smith. The ethereal “Birds Flew Backwards” is a true test in stopping time with its otherwordly reverberating echoes and heavy bass line. But high-charged songs like “The Greatest Denier” and “House of Mirrors” standout with aesthetic guitar riffs and powerful imperative vocals. The dual gentleness and coarseness of “Lifelines” and “Spellbound” will have you wondering why contrast as never sounded as good as this.

By no means is this album a celebration or a lament of the old or getting old. In that sense, the idea of a kingdom of rust is inappropriate. I suppose the concept of unearthing a once-splendid kingdom seems more appropo.

Get yourself a copy of Kingdom of Rust

Listen to “The Greatest Denier”

Listen to “Winter Hill“

I’m not really sure what to do with the 1990s. Are they just a bunch of perverted Scottish dudes that happen to have a very quirky sense of humor? Or are they rockpop savants that know how to craft an intriguing ditty? I’ll go with easy way out: they’re both.

The thing to remember with the 1990s is everything is an innuendo, or at least a strange juxtaposition of words that makes for a mad libs delight! The truth is that the 1990s are incredibly talented in making danceable rock tunes, and they’ve managed to maintain that energy from song to song, album to album. Their debut Cookies was amazingly underrated, and I’m sure their sophomore effort Kicks will fly under the radar as well. But please, I ask, don’t let that happen. You’ll miss Jack McKeown’s earnest request, “C’mon, do it like we practiced” on “Sparks”, and you won’t have the privilege of hearing the infectious guitar riff and the chant-like chorus of “Balthazar.” Worst of all, you would certainly miss the declarative “Everybody Please Relax” and the hoppy highlight “Tell Me When You’re Ready.” Who wouldn’t want to hear cryptic vocals like “Will you be my body / at the zoo” or “What’s that in your hair/ blowing bubbles like you just don’t care?”? I ask you, who?!

Get yourself a copy of Kicks.

Listen to “Everybody Please Relax”

Listen to “Tell Me When You’re Ready“