Author: Lee Zimmerman (Page 7 of 20)

The Avett Brothers: I and Love and You


RIYL: Hem, The Weepies, Rilo Kiley

It’s that rare album that can be listened to repeatedly and each time offer a new experience, opening the door to discovery on each successive hearing. Likewise, there’s a hint of something significant when an album provides its listeners with a stunning display of prowess and ingenuity that not only elevates the artist’s profile but also marks a new benchmark in their career trajectory. It’s telling that if, in attempting to evaluate it, adjectives alone don’t do it justice.

That, then, is the best way to sum up I and Love and You, the remarkable major label debut from the Avett Brothers, the North Carolina trio whose indie career crested with Emotionalism two years ago. A disc that brought them full circle, Emotionalism earned the right to be labeled 2007’s indie album of the year. Like its predecessor, I and Love and You, is rich in gut-level appeal, a concept album revolving around simple truths that revel in honesty, heartbreak and humanity. The mission statement that adorns the back cover offers their insights into the essential three words – and the sentiments that express them – betraying so many intentions and such special significance.

One of the things that distinguish the Avetts from their like-minded peers is their ability to combine a wistful and plaintive approach with the irresistible urgency of cascading choruses that seep into the consciousness and steadfastly maintain their grasp. The tender yet impassioned pleas of “Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise,” the title track and “The Perfect Space” illuminate that premise succinctly. “I want to have friends that I can trust / For the man I’ve become and not the man I was,” they convincingly croon in the latter. Producer Rick Rubin, clearly no slouch when it comes to illuminating the dark recesses of his clients’ souls, maintains the Avetts’ unfettered style, but subtlety fleshes it out along the way, adding jaunty piano interludes, the occasional fiddle, and sudden shifts in rhythm that add distinction to the effort overall. Consequently, a stunner of a song like the sprightly “Kick Drum Heart” or the heart-wrenching “Laundry Room” morph into a tour de force, exceptional examples of the band’s duality to shift the dynamic and alter the mood accordingly.

Suffice it to say that I and Love and You is not only a contender for album of the year, but also an album for the ages. And like those three words in the title, it resonates long and hard. (Sony 2009)

Avett Brothers MySpace page

Exene Cervenka: Somewhere Gone


RIYL: Knitters, Nanci Griffith, Maria McKee

Most artists who are able to maintain any sort of credibility and longevity usually prove adept at the power of transformation, especially when it comes to adapting their style. After all, continuing in the same direction after a decade or more almost inevitably becomes tiresome without at least some tweaking to the standard MO. Never mind the Eagles or Billy Joel; who would have expected Dylan to rail on forever in protest and poetic mode, or that Joni Mitchell would retain her little girl innocence and pensive strum without some further artistic embellishment? Yet even with that basic precept in mind, witnessing Exene Cervenka’s stylistic transformation – from punk goddess with X to the folk loyalist she’s become – still registers as a somewhat drastic evolution. After all, her stewardship of X, one of Los Angeles’ most virulent punk bands, set a standard of sorts for an entire decade of West Coast outrage and insurgency, reconfiguring Southern California’s sunny vibes into a hotbed of rock rebellion easily on par with the Manhattan graduating class of CBGB’s.

Of course, Cervenka wasn’t the only member of X to ceremoniously segue from turbulence to tradition. Both her male counterparts, John Doe and rotating member Dave Alvin, followed the same course, and when Cervenka and Doe formed the Knitters, a down-home revival band powered by unabashed devotion, the stage was set. Cervenka herself has proven to be both durable and diversified, spawning a notable solo career, various side projects and even an impressive literary output. But with her latest venture, the tellingly dubbed Somewhere Gone, Cervenka ups the ante when it comes to back porch ambiance and freewheeling folksiness. With Amy Farris’ fiddle play at the fore, she plunges head first into distinctly rural environs, finding an easy fit in these sing-along settings. Being that this is her first solo soirée in almost two decades, there’s reason enough to believe that she’s naturally more mellow and had ample time to rethink her course, but given the laidback vibe of “Trojan Horse,” “Somewhere Gone” and “The Willow Tree,” it’s actually easy to imagine her perched out in a pasture somewhere, sucking on some straw while contentedly watching as the livestock graze. The ramshackle “Fine Familiar” and rollicking honkytonk of “Walk with Me across the Night” only reinforce that notion.

Still, Cervenka’s segue may surprise those who only remember her through the tinted lens of two decades gone by. Though no longer in the guise of a femme fatale, who would have expected Cervenka would reinvent herself as a country crooner? (Bloodshot, 2009)

Exene Cervenka MySpace page
Click to buy Somewhere Gone from Amazon

Cory Chisel and the Wandering Sons: Death Won’t Send a Letter


RIYL: Bruce Springsteen, John Mellencamp, Greg Laswell

The latest contender for the role of heartland hero, Cory Chisel offers up a debut album that combines a bit of Nebraska-era Springsteen with a hint of tarnished roots rocker Steve Earle. Not surprisingly then, Death Won’t Send a Letter reflects a sound as dark as its title implies, a blend of turgid rhythms and moody, contemplative deliberation. Clearly, Chisel’s at his best when he’s conveying brooding, angst-driven efforts like “Born Again” and “Longer Time at Sea,” both of which provide prime opportunity for him to revel in an insurgent attitude. Still, Chisel’s troubled tomes aren’t ongoing throughout; the quirky rhythms that underscore “Angel of Mine” and “Curious Thing” find the band occasionally flirting with techno territory, although clearly that’s not their main turf.

In truth, Chisel’s main strength is in his material, which shifts sharply from the forlorn ballad “Tennessee” and the mellow, autumnal “Calm Down” to the pounding and ponderous “What Do You Need.” The band even tosses in a hint of U2-like melodrama via the stunningly anthemic “My Heart Will Be There.” Though still sorting out their direction, this first attempt finds the Wandering Sons getting a good start to their journey. (Black Seal 2009)

Cory Chisel MySpace page
Click to buy Death Won’t Send a Letter

Lou Barlow: Goodnight Unknown


RIYL: Nirvana, Folk Implosion, Foo Fighters

Lou Barlow’s music may sometimes seem to defy definition, but one thing can be said for certain: As one of the more prolific figures of the post-punk generation – if not one of the more deliberately obscure – he’s maintained a steady presence through a variety of guises for the better part of the past 20 years. Starting his musical journey with the influential and irrepressible Dinosaur Jr., Barlow subsequently plied his talents through several high-profile indie outfits, Sebadoh and Folk Implosion among them. Each incarnation has found him mining a sound that’s as daring as it is defiant. Regardless, absolute devotees will testify that it’s in his role as a solo performer that he’s at his most articulate and expressive, and happily, this latest outing proves to be no exception.

Still, as always, it’s hard to get a handle on where Barlow is going with some of these songs. Layer upon layer of foggy melodies, cloudy atmospherics and vocals that sound like they were recorded in distant environs do little to encourage any hint of immediate accessibility. Nevertheless, he frequently connects almost in spite of himself. Shimmering set-ups like “I’m Thinking” and “The One I Call,” along with the lilting delicacy of “Modesty,” “Take Advantage” and “Too Much Freedom,” run headlong into the agitated sludge that blurs the more melodic prospects for songs like “Sharing,” “Gravitate” and “The Right.”

Happily, though, a more accessible sound does emerge as the 14 tracks wind down to their conclusion. Barlow segues into a mellower mode, and if there’s any comparison to be made at this point, it’s genuinely unexpected. “Take Advantage” and “Don’t Apologize” actually sound similar to…wait for it…Donovan, in traveling troubadour mode. Yes, it’s an unlikely shift, but then again, who better to pull off this chameleon-like transformation than an agile artist like Barlow?

Consistently intriguing at every turn, Barlow’s metamorphosis has always demanded a closer listen, and certainly Goodnight Unknown, as its title somewhat cryptically implies, isn’t any different. While Barlow may be edging towards accessibility, it’s clearly too soon to say he’s committed himself entirely to following a standard script. Still, Goodnight Unknown may be the closest he comes to earning any distinction as a higher profile indie rock god along the lines of, say, Dave Grohl, with whom he shares a certain renegade sensibility. Whether or not the current incarnation of Dinosaur Jr. grinds itself into extinction remains unclear, but one thing remains clear – Lou Barlow casts an indomitable shadow all his own. (Merge, 2009)

Lou Barlow MySpace page
Click to buy Goodnight Unknown from Amazon

The Band of Heathens: One Foot in the Ether


RIYL: The Band, Little Feat, Kings of Leon

After evoking obvious reverence for classic Americana on their self-titled studio debut, the Band of Heathens morph their roots rock regimen with hints of blues, soul and a swampy moan. The allusions to the Band are still there of course – the new album’s “L.A. County Blues,” “What’s This World” and “Look At Miss Ohio” instantly reaffirm those references – but this time around they expand their palate, journeying up the Mississippi with “Golden Calf,” emulating an old-time gospel choir on “Shine a Light” and taking a funky furlough via “You’re Gonna Miss Me” and “Somebody Tell Me The Truth.” Varying the pace from unassuming shuffles to tattered refrains, the group colors the arrangements with rustic embellishment – banjo, Wurlitzer piano, dobro, mandolin, lap steel and forlorn vocals – clearly enhancing the set’s distinct retro feel. An able demonstration of genuine down-home resolve, One Foot in the Ether provides the band taking a sure step forward.

The Band of Heathens MySpace page

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