Category: Melodramatic (Page 9 of 12)

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

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

The Clientele: Bonfires on the Heath

In an era where slacker sensibilities and low-gazing attitudes seem to dominate the musical mainstream, the Clientele’s preoccupation with lush, radiant textures and elaborate, ethereal arrangements consistently go against the norm. Vocalist/guitarist/musical mastermind Alasdair MacLean’s aversion to bombastic singers and self-serving guitar solos finds thoughts morphed into action via the collision of horns, harmonies and soft-swaying melodies that adorn Bonfires on the Heath, the latest extravaganza from this Hampshire band. The group conjures up a number of obvious influences – Love, the Zombies, Galaxie 500 and the Felt – but given their seamless delivery and breezy, shimmering style, it would sell them short to merely attribute their sound to appropriating that of their predecessors. “I Wonder Who We Are,” “Bonfires on the Heath” and “Jennifer & Julia” purvey a genteel charm and a soothing, sensual ambiance that seizes attention even on first encounter. And while the scattershot shuffle of “Sketch” almost seems disruptive in the midst of these mellow soundscapes, a song such as “Never Anyone but You” shows their ability to make a seamless transition from meditative reflection to gently compelling refrains. Varying the tempos between a samba and a sway, this rich mélange provides an allure all its own. (Merge 2009)

The Clientele MySpace page

Monsters of Folk: Monsters of Folk


RIYL: Hem, The Weepies, Bittersweets

The term “super group” is bandied about all too frequently, often arousing great expectations that are rarely fulfilled. The door to disappointment is left wide open; participants hedge when it comes to contributing their best songs or find their creativity stifled when compromising to serve to other egos. Yet while it’s rare to witness the second coming of an all-star outfit like Blind Faith or Crosby Stills and Nash, a blending of big names inevitably cranks up the curiosity factor regardless.

On the other hand, a summit session involving lo-fi provocateurs M Ward, Conor Oberst, Mike Mogis and Jim James (AKA Yim Yames) might be greeted with some hint of suspicion, given the fact none of them is known for emphatic exposition. Surprisingly then, this, their first recorded collaboration, comes across as significantly more inviting and accessible than just about anything these individuals have managed on their own. While the name of the conglomerate indicates a tongue planted firmly in cheek, the songs themselves are straightforward and sincere. What’s more, given the fact that the songwriting is shared collectively and that all the instrumentation is doled out between them, the set is surprisingly consistent, showing equal input from all four contributors. And though most of the music is on the mellow side, the melodies make an emphatic impression – from the folkie sing-along of “Man Named Truth” and the gentle caress of “Magic Marker” and “His Master’s Voice,” to the breezy country sway of “The Right Place” and the steady ascent of “Whole Lotta Losin’” and “Ahead of the Curve.” They’ve done their ongoing outfits proud, while making what may well be the best album of their collective careers. (Shangri-La 2009)

Monsters of Folk MySpace page

Derek Webb: Stockholm Syndrome


RIYL: Brian Eno, Peter Gabriel, Depeche Mode

Although he first emerged from Christian pop realms, Derek Webb has never found himself constrained by either dogma or dictates, especially as they apply to his own soft rock excursions and those that he pursues with his talented wife, singer/songwriter Sandra McCracken. However, anyone familiar with his music up until now might be somewhat confounded by Webb’s current switch in sound. Webb’s always aimed for accessibility, but here he deviates from that tact, opting instead for an atmospheric motif, some techno trappings and hip-hop beats to maintain his muse. On first listen, it sounds like an attempt to substitute dance club fare for the thoughtful approach that distinguished his previous efforts and indeed, Webb keeps things moving at a kinetic pace. However, while the undulating ambiance sometimes seems distracting, additional listens reveal some subtle nuances. In fact, it’s those moments of mellow respite – the gentle ballads “The State,” “Heaven” and “American Flag Umbrella” in particular – that make Stockholm Syndrome easier to abide.

Derek Webb MySpace page

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