“But disassociation, I guess, is just a modern disease.” So sings Erika M. Anderson in the closing moments of “3Jane,” a pretty, yet disquieting ballad that freely references William Gibson’s Neuromancer, the influential cyberpunk sci-fi novel known for coining the term “cyberspace.” When it was published in 1984, the story of a past-his-prime hacker in a cold virtual reality was speculative futurism in the mold of Blade Runner or TRON. But its themes may resonate even more today.
White Hinterland’s latest album, ‘Baby,’ is out now via Dead Oceans. (Anna Rotty/Courtesy of the artist)
There’s a moment at the very end of “Baby,” the title track from White Hinterland’s new album, when everything in the mix drops out, revealing just the voice of singer Casey Dienel. In those final 20 seconds, as she repeatedly howls “Is this my weakness?” — without all the ghostly reverb, or the dense layers of vocals, the serrated beats, and synthesizer sequences, Dienel exposes an raw vulnerability. It’s one of those jarring, sit up and take notice moments that underscores Dienel’s musical transformation — from skillful and sweet songwriter to a powerful, emotional singer, and a producer with confidence in her craft.
Try all you like, but it’s practically impossible to resist pumping your fists in the air or pounding on the steering wheel to “I’m Not Part Of Me.” While buried as the closer on Cloud Nothings’ new album, Here And Nowhere Else, this is the kind of explosive, hair-raising song that you’ll hit repeat as soon as it ends, just so you can shout along to the line “I’m not telling you all I’m going through” with satisfying defiance. And then there’s that chorus — “But I’m not, I’m not you / You’re a part of me, you’re a part of me” — which is so emblematic of what makes Dylan Baldi, the Cleveland, Ohio band’s primary force, such a potent frontman: He’s exceptional at piling three song’s worth of melodic pop hooks into one raucous punk banger.
Every year at South By Southwest there’s a whole slew of high profile stars who drop in with big time shows, taking advantage Austin’s complete media saturation and keeping them firmly in the spotlight. When you hear complaints about SXSW getting too commercial and taking eyes away from smaller acts slogging through many shows a day and fighting to get heard, this is what they mean. In hip-hop, that seems especially true when in recent years Kanye, Jay Z, Snoop, and many more show up with much hype. Still, it’s always possible to find new acts, especially when you cannot get into those packed late night shows. And every year there’s a few names that rise above the fray: Danny Brown, Kendrick Lamar, Action Bronson, Big K.R.I.T. and Chance the Rapper have all had recent breakthrough sets at SXSW on their way to bigger things.
Last year, one of those names, for me, was Le1f, who I caught at NPR Music’s showcase at Stubb’s.
The story goes that Annie Clark jumped right from touring in support of St. Vincent’s last album — the 2011 masterpiece Strange Mercy — to working with David Byrne on Love This Giant, their horn-centric collaboration. And from there, she went right back to work — a mere 36 hours after the tour ended — and began writing new material.
That bit of information is instructive in demonstrating Clark’s whirlwind work ethic, and a seemingly unending supply of creative drive. But the story also helps decipher Clark’s musical evolution, leaving breadcrumbs in song form that leads us from her dystopian Disney aesthetic to this End of the World dance party of her brand-new fourth album, St. Vincent. The self-titled album effortlessly marries Clark’s unique trademarks — her equally mannered and seething voice and her precise yet snarling guitar playing — with the buoyant, funked-up pop she made with Byrne.
“Should’ve stayed in bed today / I much prefer the mundane,” Courtney Barnett sings near the end of “Avant Gardener.” Considering the song’s winding and darkly comedic first-person account of an anaphylactic anxiety attack that finds her in an ambulance after attempting some gardening, the line is the understatement of the year. But Barnett’s signature song — with its fantastic “I’m so over it” deadpan delivery — does sort of stand in as the modus operandi of The Double EP: A Sea Of Split Peas — the Melbourne, Australia songwriter’s self-released 2013 collection of two formerly-issued EPs.
For an artist as prolific and shapeshifting as Beck, five-plus years is a long time to wait between records. But in the time between 2008’s Modern Guilt and now, Beck has said that he was suffering from a serious back injury that prevented him from performing or even playing guitar for long. And yet, the inventive songwriter and producer kept himself more than busy. More than that, he seemed as creative as ever: He produced albums for artists like Charlotte Gainsbourg, Thurston Moore, Stephen Malkmus, and Dwight Yoakam; he and pals like St. Vincent, Wilco, and many more covered classic albums in his Record Club project; and he dropped a whole damn book of sheet music with Song Reader. As a longtime fan of Beck, I consider him an artist with a free pass to do anything he wants and I’ll follow.
Through two albums with Lost In The Trees — 2010’s All Alone In An Empty House and 2012’s A Church That Fits Our Needs, songwriter and composer Ari Picker clawed at the wounds of a troubled childhood in emotional detail. Working through devastating memories and heartache in song can often be an exercise in therapy for the songwriter and listeners alike, and while Lost In The Trees’ lyrics certainly explored those painful thoughts, its music soared with overwhelming beauty thanks to its stirring folk songs embellished with chamber music arrangements.
The Family Crest’s album, Beneath The Brine, is out now.
The Family Crest began in 2009 as a creative outlet for friends Liam McCormick and John Seeterlin, but in the years since, it’s morphed into something far larger. The independent San Francisco band is built around a core of seven, but boasts a sprawling “extended family” of over 400 people who have participated in some capacity — everyone from conservatory-trained musicians to friends and fans “who just sing in the shower,” says McCormick, the mastermind behind the collective. More than a rock band, The Family Crest is essentially an open musical collaboration and community that believes everyone can be musical when given the opportunity. It’s a feel-good mission statement, but an ambitious one that allows the band flexibility to create pop songs infused with dramatic orchestral passages.
“Been a long time coming to be the man I want / Been a long time coming to see what I have won,” sings Jordan Topf on “Savant” — the feverish opening track on Mainland’s EP, Shiner. It’s a straight-forward line, sure, but one that hints at the uncertainty of youth, and the trials and errors that ultimately make us who we are when we get over the hump. And for Topf, it’s a line that touches upon the unfathomable toll of losing his father too soon. Luckily, the singer and guitarist used that heartache as motivation to get out of New York City, hit the road with the band, and write new songs that became this new EP.
