I first came across Jerard Fagerberg’s writing thanks to a piece for Consequence of Sound’s (sadly defunct) aux.out section that wound up focusing on an important aspect of my own personal musical development: the soundtracks to skate videos. Ever since then, I’ve been keeping an eye on what he’s been writing and following his work at Minneapolis’ City Pages, which has included gems like this article dissecting the differences between Mike Krol and Mikal Cronin in a quest to find out whether or not they’re actually the same person. Here, he offers up a piece that touches on other writers (including Nina Corcoran and Sasha Geffen, two prior A Year’s Worth of Memories contributors) and the crippling self-doubt (and queasy self-loathing) that tends to mark any author worth their salt. Read it below and remember to keep chipping away at the things you want to achieve because that struggle won’t go unnoticed by the people who will ultimately get you there.
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Frappe
I’m sitting across from Nina at Charlie’s Kitchen when she orders a chocolate frappe. Not a milkshake, not a malt, but a frappe — a charming expression from a place where I no longer belong.
I had to use Google Maps to find my way to Charlie’s from the Red Line, and when that word — frappe — leaves Nina’s lips, I realize how many of Boston’s colloquialisms I’ve forgotten. I’ve only lived in Minneapolis for a year, but if find myself gradually losing reciprocity with my home state.
Nina and I talk about my dog and Allston Pudding. We talk about how Steven asked me to write this piece. I keep rewinding the word “frappe” in my mind, and then I tell her something I’d promised myself not to tell her.
I tell her I admire her. I tell her that I used to resent her because I admire her. And I tell her that she is really only one of many writers I’ve felt this way about.
2014 was my first year as a professional writer. It felt like competition that whole year. I focused on my Twitter brand too much. I obsessed over what to wear when I went out to meet media people. I agonized over not getting bylines at sites I’d never even pitched to. I regretted being 25 and never once being considered prodigal. I had a very unsexy day job that I knew I’d probably never quit. I felt like a fraud every minute I lived in Boston.
The jealousy was ugly, but that didn’t make it any less real.
2015 was tonic. In moving to Minnesota, I removed myself from a lot of the anxiety of trying to make it as a writer. At first, I wondered whether it would’ve been more writerly to move to Brooklyn. Or if sundering what few roots I had meant I’d disappear. These concerns dissolved. Catching on at City Pages was the easiest gig I ever scored. Working with Reed, Pete, Hannah, Jessica, and now Jay has been nurturing in a way Boston never felt. I’m nostalgic enough for the East Coast that I no longer see other people’s successes as a threat.
I still have my day job, and I still, in social settings, try to project the illusion that I work full-time as a writer, but I’m becoming habituated to the idea that I’ll always be halfway there. I’ll never be like Jeremy — the first editor to ever take a pitch from me and a writer whose nonchalant talent is frankly intimidating — who caught on at VICE full time after an unceremonious canning at Radio.com. Or Phil, who turned himself into one of the best working photographers in music and shared the beautiful, sordid details of how he’d gotten there. Or Sasha, who’s been a smarter, better writer than me for 26 straight years and has done it without a sliver of my ego. Or Nina, who is three years younger than me and became the Dig’s music editor this year.
A year ago, all this would’ve fucked with my equilibrium. I would’ve seethed. I would’ve sulked for these things not happening to me. I would’ve schemed to politely outdo them. But sitting in that dive bar and hearing Nina order a drink and perplexing over it, that jealousy felt as foreign as Beantown parlance.
Back in 2014, Christine Varriale (pictured above, center) and I spent a week exploring the city of Toronto and taking in as many NXNE shows that we possibly could. Since then, she’s introduced me to a number of my favorite people (including her Puppy Problems bandmate and fellow A Year’s Worth of Memories contributor Sami Martasian, who she also writes with over at Allston Pudding). Varriale also plays in a band called Gay Sin and remains a fixture of Boston’s constantly thriving music scene. It shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise then, that she chooses to turn her eyes towards the city for her second A Year’s Worth of Memories piece. Here, she deals with Krill’s loss, the city’s malleability, and expectantly turns towards the future. Read those thoughts below and remember that defeat can give way to hope.
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It’s February 5th, and I’m on a train to NYC from Boston, not on a mission for my usual trip to NYC for CMJ. It’s a weird feeling but a great environment to observe my beloved Boston music scene in 2015 from afar both physically and temporally.
Boston is inherently a cyclical city. Many young people move to Boston for college and then leave shortly after to spread their roots in a new city. I’ve never been much for change, so I’ve stayed in Massachusetts my whole life. Sometimes I wonder if this is good or bad, but there’s a piece of me in Boston that I can’t cut out. My roots are too deep.
But back to that cycle thing: Boston’s basement scene is ever-changing. There are staple houses that survive years like Thieves Grotto and Whitehaus, but then there are some that fade away like Butcher Shoppe, The Womb and Gay Gardens. We look back at lost venues fondly, but we do not cry for them. Something new is always beginning like Milhaus, Grandma’s House and The ER. New residents start their own pockets of the scene whether it’s BU bros, Berklee punks or our resident show moms.
And much like the houses, many of the bands cycle through too. We lost our heroes Krill in 2015, and soon we will lose other bands to new cities. More tears should be wept away, because our bumbling music scene is now scattered across this country. With the demise of these staples in our scene, younger bands are forming to take their place in quasi-homage. Bands like Du Vide, Horse Jumper of Love, and Stumpf are our new Krill. Palehound, Lady Pills, Ursula, and Gravel are our new Speedy Ortiz. Some of us stay like Pile, Fat History Month, Kal Marks, and Big Buck Hunter.
How will 2016 spread its branches? Will these bands move or will they thrive within the Boston community to become the next Pile or Krill? It’s always a toss up here, but I can’t wait to see how this year plays out.
Over the past few weeks, the submissions that have come into the site’s inbox have introduced me to some of the most fascinating music of 2014. Toby Reif and Space Mountain were two that immediately stood out- Elephants shortly followed. The Boston-based quartet’s upcoming record, Strange Waves, is one of 2014’s most vibrant and defiantly lively records. The band’s formula differs from the norm, most notably in the basslines acting as lead guitar riffs instead of driving the rhythm. It’s a kinetic approach and it suits the band (whose powerpop sensibilities come tinged with a surprisingly aggressive noise-punk bite) surprisingly well.
All of Strange Waves is a joy but no song on the record clicks everything into place with as much power and finesse as “The Turtles Were Right”. Sun-splashed melodies meet a restless bass figure, propulsive drumming, vicious guitar work, an abundance of energy, and a few joyful hand claps. Before long, the song establishes an alternating contrast pattern in mood with the verses taking on a pensive melodramatic feel before the rousing chorus picks everything up and pushes it forward. It’s also Elephants at their finest- it’s no surprise that “The Turtles Were Right” is the song that includes the lyric which gave Strange Waves its title. “The Turtles Were Right” cloaks its fuzz in an undeniable affability and the end result is something that deserves to be heard by as many people as possible.
Listen to “The Turtles Were Right” below and keep an eye on Elephants’ bandcamp, which is where Strange Waves will be available to download on December 16 (the download will be free for the first day).
Bent Shapes are a Massachusetts-based duo made up of Andrew Sadoway and Ben Potrykus, who, as of two weeks ago, are directly responsible for one of 2014’s finest powerpop songs this side of Vertical Scratchers. The song in question is called “86’d in ’03” and it serves as the title track for a fascinating lathecut plexi disc release, courtesy of People In A Position to Know Records (a niche label that specializes in limited run releases). On “86’d in ’03”, Sadoway holds down the rhythm section duties while Potrykus flies off the handle with a gleeful abandon on guitar/vocal duties. It’s a jaunty bit of perfectly-timed summer music that builds momentum as it goes and doesn’t shy away from a handful of classic influences, giving the line “Self-aware but not too cool to care” a hefty bit of additional meaning.
From start to finish, not a single moment of the song’s two minutes are wasted. Full of nuance, verve, and, yes, self-awareness, it’s a clever bit of irreverence that feels like a perfect antidote to a ceaseless wave of increasingly apathetic music that’s gaining popularity and acclaim at an alarming rate. Everything here brims with an unfiltered passion and, more importantly, everything the band tries out through the song’s short run time doesn’t just click- it snaps into place with an emphatic force. While the song does recall a wide variety of bands, it’s still very clearly Bent Shapes and if this is the direction they’re heading, then a lot of people aren’t going to want to hesitate in giving them their full attention.
Listen to “86’d in ’03” below and order it directly from PIAPTK Records here before they disappear for good.
After Day 1 of NXNE got the festival off to a strong start, Day 2 is when the madness kicked into high gear. From late afternoon to well past midnight, there were sets from Caddywhompus, Speedy Ortiz, PS I Love You, Pissed Jeans, The Pizza Underground (although it’s still unclear if that could actually be called a set), Shannon & the Clams, Odonis Odonis, The Yips, and Sam Coffey & the Iron Lungs. These were spread out across four venues and, at the bottom of these writings, there’s visual documentation of all of them.
Day 2 started off at the gorgeous (and gorgeously lit) Mod Club Theatre, which boasted a stacked bill that was headlined by Pissed Jeans- who delivered what would be one of the most memorable single sets of the festival. Before that, there were several standout moments from each of the three bands preceding Pissed Jeans. Caddywhompus set the wheels in motion with their enticing combination of traditional math elements and post-punk. From their surprisingly sweet vocal melodies to the power drumming and guitar fireworks that drove the momentum of their set, it’s easy to see why people are starting to latch onto this band. Proving even more impressive was their use of noise-prone ambient transitions to seamlessly segue between many of their songs. Somewhere between their terrifyingly precise tempo shifts and their soaring choruses, they’ve carved out something even more impressive; a wide-open future.
Site favorites Speedy Ortiz were next to take the stage and delivered a set laced with great moments from Major Arcana as well as a song they’re currently prepping to release as a single for an Adult Swim series that’s entitled “Bigger Party”, which is the band at their most definitive. Grass is Green‘s Devin McKnight has taken up the space recently vacated by guitarist Matt Robidux and managed to come off as an integral (and more importantly, incredibly dynamic) part of the band. By the end of Speedy Ortiz’s set, they’d made the most of their penchant for irreverence by keeping the between-song moments lively with genuinely funny banter and a great rapport. There were no lulls or dull moments; the evening had hit its stride early with what would ultimately become one of the night’s most engaging sets.
Canadian favorites PS I Love You were the next ones up and have the benefit of a great new album on deck that they seemed eager to tease. Immediately apparent was their fondness for blistering volumes, which in lesser hands may have distracted from their musicality- not here. Add in a generous layer of fuzz and the jaw-dropping guitar heroics of Paul Saulnier (who also controlled blasts of bass-driven organ chords through wired presets on a pedalboard- and had sweat dripping off his fingers less than three songs into their set) and it wound up being a fairly staggering showcase for both Saulnier and the relentless drumming of Benjamin Nelson. While their set did drop its momentum after the ecstatic highs brought on by a genuinely impassioned performance of “Facelove“, things were restored by the very end of their set thanks to the strength of the songs on their outstanding upcoming full-length, For Those Who Stay.
After PS I Love You called it night, one thing suddenly became very clear: everything was about to become all about sludge-indebted hardcore titans Pissed Jeans. They didn’t disappoint. All but storming the stage, vocalist Matt Korvette started their set by immediately declaring that the band had a very important announcement to make: “We are no longer Pissed Jeans. We are now Virgin Mobile Pissed Jeans”- a possible dig at the festival’s increased incorporation of corporate sponsorship. Following that subtly-tinged bit of possible vitriol, their levels all quickly rocketed to seething. With Korvette absolutely owning the Mod Club Theatre stage (both Nick Cave and Iggy Pop frequently came to mind- and that’s saying quite a bit), his band exploded around him and consistently matched his energy level. Between songs, he would faux-berate the audience for not trying hard enough or for not being more into the performance- and at one point he even paused to conduct a music lecture on guitar composition (extended fives, sweeping fours, and triple sevens were all covered).
Never letting the energy levels drop even a fraction, Pissed Jeans annihilated just about every expectation and ended with what’s undoubtedly one of the strangest encores to ever be performed at NXNE. Here’s what happened: after a small but meaningful attempt from the audience to get the band back on stage for one more song, Korvette reappeared and took the reigns on bass and began playing a tribal-sounding bassline over and over, occasionally walking from the stage to the wings before disappearing completely (while still playing the bass). At one point, the guitarist became the drummer for a strange misdirect- and didn’t play a single note before getting off the throne and exiting the stage. Finally, after Korvette hadn’t appeared for about two minutes, he suddenly slid the bass out quite a ways onto the stage floor from his spot in the wings and the show was officially over. All of it caused one audience member to scream out “What did that even mean?!” which was shortly followed by his still-very-confused “…like, technically?!”. If only anyone knew.
Going from what was arguably the festival’s highlight to Lee’s Palace for what was inarguably the most uncomfortable set (courtesy of The Pizza Underground) was a little jarring. As mentioned up above, it’s difficult to know whether or not this could even be called a set- it was more of a comedy variety hour. At any rate, Maculay Culkin’s Velvet Underground-aping Pizza project had a hard time finding or developing any sort of noticeable rhythm and it kept tripping over itself to bring in new ideas or guests- among them: Plop Dylan (Bob Dylan songs with the lyrics altered so that they were about feces), a karaoke section from #PUSSYJOEL (Billy Joel songs about cats- the only thing the internet loves more than pizza), and a bizarre Tony Danza-impersonating stand-up comedian. The most clever of these wound up being the least tactful; Kurt Cobain’d- a man dressed up as Kurt Cobain (who was arguably the best musician to be featured throughout their set) doing Nirvana songs where all of the present tense verbs were switched to the past tense. By the end of their set, they were barely doing any of their original (a term used very loosely, all things considered) material. At least they bought Pizza for everyone.
An additional benefit of The Pizza Underground’s set? Culkin’s celebrity draw prompted one of the biggest non-Yonge Dundas Square turnouts and several of them stuck around- and were subsequently blown away- by an incendiary set from Shannon & the Clams. The band had previously caused a lot of people to fall pretty hard for them with an extraordinary track record of releases through Burger Records and Hardly Art. Live, the band more than lived up to the promise of their studio releases and quickly filled the spots in Lee’s Palace that had been abandoned after The Pizza Underground left a bad taste in much of the audience’s respective mouths. Not too long into their set, the entire standing section was full of people grinning widely and dancing their hearts out to Shannon & the Clams’ throwback rock n’ soul basement pop. All things considered, that lasting image was one of the best takeaway moments of NXNE.
After Shannon & the Clams had left everyone smiling, the plan was to go to Smiling Buddha to settle in for The Yips and Sam Coffey & the Iron Lungs- fortunately, after running into Speedy Ortiz- we were redirected to Odonis Odonis’ set at The Garrison. Arriving mid-set meant the audience was already packed. The members of Speedy Ortiz, looking a touch exhausted, snagged a spot at the adjacent bar and advised us to go in to catch the band. Already being anxious to catch Odonis Odonis (who appeared on Heartbreaking Bravery’s First Quarter Finish mixtape), caused no hesitation in a move for the venue doors. Only a few songs were caught but it didn’t take long for Odonis Odonis to establish their connection to METZ: both bands have the same intense careening-all-over-the-place stage presence and love of ear-shattering volume levels. Their spastic synth-driven noise-punk freakouts managed to re-establish a new energy precedent for the evening and wound up being the best surprise set of the festival.
The Garrison was then left behind for the second consecutive night at Smiling Buddha (which would be visited again on nights 4 and 5) for late shows from The Yips and Sam Coffey & the Iron Lungs. Both bands made the best use of a very small stage that they didn’t quite seem to fit on. All five members of The Yips kept grinning and bouncing off each other as if they were having the time of their lives- a trend that was continued by the six member lineup of Sam Coffey & the Iron Lungs. Where The Yips played surf-friendly basement pop that hinted at some art-friendly trappings, Sam Coffey & the Iron Lungs went the full blue-collar basement punk route. Both bands drew huge reactions from the crowd and there was more than one instance of crowd surfing. The Yips had people dancing. Sam Coffey & the Iron Lungs incited mass crowd sing-a-longs. There was clear-cut camaraderie between the bands and their audience in a small-scale environment- which is what all of the best festivals strive to achieve. It was a genuinely incredible end to an extraordinary day of sets and sent expectation skyrocketing for Day 3.
Watch videos from Caddywhompus, Pissed Jeans, Shannon & the Clams, The Yips, and Sam Coffey & the Iron Lungs below (apologies for the slightly blown-out audio)- beneath those, the photo gallery containing each band mentioned n the review. Enjoy.
There are literally not enough nice things to be said about Mean Creek. Their fourth record, Local Losers, is their strongest yet. Touching on key points of emphasis from all the right genres, they’ve managed to create a very clear highlight in an increasingly competitive year. One of that record’s strongest selling points was “Anxiety Girl”, which saw the Boston quartet indulging their most aggressive sides and winding up with a vicious stunner. Now, that blissful fuzzed-out beast of a track has an appropriately frenetic music video to accompany it.
“Anxiety Girl” as a video is as direct and to the point as the song itself. There’s a lo-fi feel that permeates throughout the clip, which features little more than the band tearing their way through the song in a seemingly abandoned house that has an army of static-displaying televisions as an interior backdrop. Beer’s chugged and spit out, instruments are beaten half to death, and everyone walks away delighted. The final stinger puts the whole thing over the top and makes a fairly compelling case for 2014 being Mean Creek’s year.
Watch “Anxiety Girl” below and host a living room show this summer.
Jeff Meff has always been an enigmatic songwriter. Hell, that’s a fact that was evidenced by his constantly-changing moniker. Bad History Month, Sad History Month, Fat History Month, it never mattered, the results were always the same; distinctly original and absurdly rewarding. A perennial staple of both the bedroom-pop and basement punk scene in Boston, Merr’s built his reputation on slightly left-of-center songs that all seem to come spilling out to provide some sort of blanket for his astounding lyricism. Of course, true to those styles, none of it gets played up in the slightest; it’s all given equal footing and is intertwined enough to be relatively inseparable. It’s difficult to isolate just one element of the songwriting on display here, the first glimpse at his upcoming split with Dust From 1,000 Years, especially. The song’s entitled “Staring At My Hands” and the split itself is called Famous Cigarettes and will be released via Exploding in Sound. “Staring At My Hands” is about as bare and naturalistic as Merr gets and it’s a jarring change of pace from last year’s manic (and extraordinary) Bad History Month(which was released under the moniker Fat History Month). If Famous Cigarettes lives up to what’s suggested by “Staring At My Hands” andwinds up being as thrilling a listen as Bad History Month was, then Merr will have decisively positioned himself as one of the best songwriters currently making music. It’s time to start paying attention.
Listen to “Staring At My Hands” below and make sure to check out his project’s already extensive discography by exploring either of the hyperlinks up above.
There are times when great music comes out of nowhere and seizes everything in its path without warning, leaving the listener scrambling to catch up with the destruction it left left in its wake. It doesn’t happen very frequently but when it does, it’s sure as hell worth writing about. Enter: Lady Bones and Horsehands, two Massachusetts bands who came together to release a split last year. Unfortunately, the band only managed to get that split out digitally initially. That didn’t stop either from trying to get it out into the world in a physical format, though, which is why (as of last month) the four songs from that split now exist in the world on a few cassettes.
As for the songs themselves? They’re everything anyone should want out of a DIY basement punk release: they’re impassioned, left-field, aggressive, catchy, and bordering on unclassifiable. All four nearly run the risk of toppling themselves over with great songwriting and clever arrangements. Lady Bones’ side kicks things off and the band wastes no time in hurtling themselves towards whatever the nearest object is to them. The nonstop riffing of “Courtesy Moans” growls and races in equal measure, baring an intimidating set of fangs while lodging its claws (read: hooks) deep. “Courtsey Moans” also sets up the woozy “Hoovah” perfectly, which carries over the decidedly darker tone of its immediate predecessor (one that matches the incredible artwork for the release, pictured up above). While “Hoovah” manages to maintain the pace and atmosphere of the split, it also succeeds in showcasing Lady Bones’ range, offering up a slightly more varied take on their approach without losing any impact. If anything, a lesson that can be taken away from this is that it only takes two songs to hear the sound of a band arriving.
Horsehands’ side more than holds up, plummeting the dark atmosphere into even greater depths while continuing to expand the release’s sonic palettes. It’s still an unmistakably Boston kind of sound but, as “Flagstone Sonogram” proves, that’s not something the band holds sacred. Coming off as nightmarish as it is poppy, the song’s the audio equivalent of a kaleidoscopic fever dream that’s terrifying in the moment but revisited fondly later. Again, impressive musicianship is on full display as the arrangements weave in and out of each other with tact and grace, creating a unique sound that complements Lady Bones’ songs without overwhelming them. “Hot Pants Nose Bleed” hits a lot more directly than “Flagstone Sonogram”. proving Horsehands to be another band with dynamic range and an able command over it. It’s a short, sharp blast that rounds out four songs that play into each others strengths as well as any four possibly could while also being incredible as standalones. It’s not difficult to imagine these bands having as much clout as, say, any of the flagship bands over at Exploding in Sound, in the very near future.
Listen to both sides below and make sure both of these bands are on the radar because this is music worth hearing.
Well, it’s certainly been a while since Watch This ran regular non-themed content. As such, there’s quite a bit of ground to cover for this volume, the series’ 23rd installment. This Watch This will feature both the familiar and the fresh; there are old standbys in terms of both bands and outlets and there are a few who have, somewhat inexplicably, never earned a mention on here before. It’s all worth watching and this collection, more than most, is a perfect summation of the type of music this place invests in most. So, sit back, stand up, kneel as if in prayer, assume literally any position- just make sure to Watch This.
1. Ovlov – Where’s My Dini (Elephant Room)
Ovlov’s 2013 record, am, was a nearly unclassifiable triumph. Since then, they’ve managed to grab a lot of people’s attention. This is in part thanks to a ferocious touring schedule that had them playing on stacked bills nearly every night. Through all of that, they’ve only managed to sharpen their craft, perfecting their cinematic shoegaze-heavy 90’s Midwestern-emo rambles. Here, they take to the Little Elephant to perform “Where’s My Dini”. If an introduction piece to the band was needed, it’d be close to impossible to improve on this video.
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2. Parquet Courts – Black and White (WNYC)
While this doesn’t have Fred Armisen augmenting their guitar attack, Parquet Courts’ WNYC performance of “Black and White” is as fierce as anything the band’s done. It’s performances like this one that have Sunbathing Animal creeping up on an outside radar. Parquet Courts aren’t messing around. Straight, to the point, almost abrasive in its minimalism yet weirdly cathartic, this is worth a few watches.
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3. Jeff Rosenstock – The Trash The Trash The Trash (TCGS)
What is there to be said? Jeff Rosenstock keeps doing things worth writing about. During this particular at-bat, he takes over Don Giovanni comedian Chris Gethard’s show to perform “The Trash The Trash The Trash” before it devolves into complete chant-a-long chaos. It’s a surreal spectacle that has an absolutely incendiary performance at its center. This is the best kind of weird.
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4. Kal Marks (BreakThruRadioTV)
Exploding in Sound recently took over BreakThruRadio for a stretch, offering the label a perfect platform to showcase their incredible roster. They wasted no time in getting Boston trio Kal Marks a featured spot on a performance and interview series (in a similar vein to KEXP). It’s a good thing they did, too. Kal Marks is an incredible live act who put out one of 2013’s very best records with their punishing masterwork Life is Murder. Their Serious Business episode is one of the most packed BreakThruRadio has ever done and is well worth carving out some time for.
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5. The Orwells – Let It Burn (KEXP)
It’s been a weird road for The Orwells following their infamous Letterman performance. In under five minutes, they became one of the most divisive young punk bands to court that much attention in who knows how long and then kept quiet for a while to let things play out. Now, with their sophomore effort, Disgraceland, nearing its release date, they’ve lined up a string of relatively high-profile stops and, as can be seen here, are making the most of it. If “Let It Burn” is an accurate indicator, they’ve got one hell of a record up their sleeves.
Once again, apologies are in order. Live content was suspended as there was, unfortunately, no possible way to get anything up since the last posting. Regular content resumes with this round of catching-up. Sunday will see the return of the regularly-scheduled Watch This programming. Now that everything’s been brought up to speed, this 14th installment of the series features several of the program’s most trusted resources (KEXP, Jam in the Van, etc) and spans quite a few genres. Read, watch, and listen to everything below.
1. Capsula (KEXP Session)
This week’s kicking off with something a little unorthodox- an Argentinian band based in Spain that primarily plays covers. The distinction? They’re some seriously fucking great covers. This isn’t the stereotypical classic-rock-by-the-numbers cash-grab, there are moments of serious passion and inventiveness here. All of these songs are reworked in sly ways that play to the band’s frantic energy. Bonus points for the best “Moonage Daydream” cover since The White Stripes’ version was being passed around as a live bootleg.
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2. Tara Fox – Morning Light (Jam in the Van)
Oh, Jam in the Van, will you ever tire of bands that wear hats when they play? As long as they’re as winsome as Tara Fox, it honestly won’t matter (it doesn’t really matter now, it’s just a strange recurring trend). Tara Fox, for their part, conjure up Americana that’s infused with both Burger-friendly surf aesthetics and a few hints of 60’s pop tendencies. It all works impossibly well in the van setting and feels perfect for the open road.
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3. Cate Le Bon (NPR Tiny Desk Session)
NPR once again mines a great singer/songwriter record for a stunning session. While Cate Le Bon’s 2012 triumph Mug Museum may not have been released as recently as Burn Your Fire For No Witness, the two do share some similar qualities. They’re also the records that are responsible for 2013’s two best Tiny Desk concerts to date. Le Bon reveals herself to be not only a capable performer but a tantalizing one.
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4. Deafheaven – Sunbather (Live at 285 Kent)
Very few bands managed to anger as many people as Deafheaven did last year. Their crime? Making an outstanding record that had serious crossover potential. Black metal elitists were up in arms, shoegaze enthusiasts were full of cynical trepidation, and no one wanted to claim them as part of their genre. Only Perfect Pussy have matched their ratio of critical acclaim to critical vitriol since the release of Sunbather. While it can still be difficult to fully embrace the style of vocals Deafheaven rely on, their actual music is undeniable and their live performances have been well-documented as being one of the more captivating prospects out there. Pitchfork’s ongoing series of the RIP 285 Kent videos has likely come to a conclusion with this absolutely immense performance of Sunbather‘s title track. Major credit is also due to the audio engineer on this one as it sounds absolutely phenomenal. A very fulfilling 10 and a half minutes.
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5. Four Eyes – SOS (Live)
Four Eyes are an incredibly hard band to find information on beyond basic facts. Whether this band still exist is anyone who’s not in the know’s best guess. They don’t appear to have any official page of any sort and they only have two 7″ records to their name. Both Four Eyes and Towards the End of Cosmic Loneliness are fucking incredible records full of riff-heavy basement punk. There are shades of early 90’s SST all over both of them and “SOS” is among the group’s very best. Here’s hoping that the band hasn’t hung it up. This is incredible music that deserves to be heard.
Heartbreaking Bravery 