Retriever

 

Attic Ocean

Retriever

(Digital)

Retriever is a five song EP from German five-piece Attic Ocean.  It is their second EP, and you know what?  They have figured it all out!  Each of these five songs evoke different sounds, yet this is a tight unified whole. I can’t imagine breaking these songs apart from their running order, so it feels best to listen to it in its entirety instead of picking individual songs.  Each song has been a favorite since its release in October.

“Young Again” opens this all too brief set with a shot of electricity charged by a driving bassline, and a dreamy sounding guitar lead that evokes “The Cutter” by Echo and the Bunnymen.  Hannin Nasirat’s urgent vocals along with the vibrant instrumentation drawing similarities to the best songs from Spain’s incredible Linda Guilala.  “Young Again” is so aptly titled, because it brims with an inescapable energy that is a powerful narcotic.   This is one of the biggest joys in seeking out and discovering new music. 

Next up, is the huge sounding “Lilies and Sea” that uses its heavy wall of guitar fuzz to bolster the chorus, reminding of some of the best 90s indie by utilizing that era’s LOUDquietLOUD drama.  Hannin’s hushed vocals, and the stratospheric twin guitars of Niels Baumgarten and Maximilian Swierczynski hint at Slowdive’s style of shoegaze, while the galloping drums from Lukas Moore, along with the huge sounding chorus that hints at Lanterns on the Lake at their most anthemic. 

“Glow” provides us with a jangly spirally hook that reminds of Velocity Girl’s “My Forgotten Favorite” as channeled through the cranberries’ third album To the Faithful Departed.  “Glow” is an unabashed pop song with a cyclical vibe and a gushing haze of atmosphere.

The penultimate “Sleepless” thumps along with strong snarling guitars and serious grinding bass from Philip Marx providing a heaviness the previous songs don’t share.  Moore sounds like he’s trying to break his snare and bass drums, along with his splash cymbals.  It’s a glorious song that smashes through its three minutes and is an unexpected change up. 

The closing “Weeks into Years” is another example of this band’s strong songwriting talents.  It sounds timeless and immediately familiar.  I swear it sounds like something I can’t quite put my finger on (ideas are welcome), but it doesn’t matter because it’s absolutely glorious.  The soaring whirr of reverb highlighting the bridges, the Rachel Goswell-esque “oohs” from Chaperhouse’s brilliant “Pearl,” and Marx’s extremely tightly stretched bass strings pluck out a danceable groove, which all combine for a song that begs for repeated listens. 

If you’re not certain from what I’ve written here, this EP is astounding!  I highly recommend checking them out.  This EP initially hit me in a similar way that Australia’s Fragile Animals did with their debut LP last year.  Songs with emotional depth, musical drama, and catchy hooks.  What could be better? 

(https://atticocean.bandcamp.com/album/retriever)

Attic Ocean "Lilies and Sea"

Every Heaven

 

Humdrum

Every Heaven

(Slumberland) 

The debut album, Every Heaven, from Chicago’s Humdrum is an indie pop dream come true.  To get the easiest comparisons out of the way, if you were a fan of the band Star Tropics, who existed throughout the twenty-teens, yet only managed one full length LP, the incredibly infectious Lost World (Shelflife Records, 2017), the precursor and required listening for Humdrum, as bandleader/songwriter Loren Vanderbilt is the man behind both of these projects.  In other words, if you loved Lost World, you will undoubtedly love Every Heaven,  

Other comparisons and influences could be the entirety of the Sarah Records catalogue (1987-1995, 100 releases), or more specifically The Field Mice and their indie pop singles like “September’s Not so Far Away” as channeled through the jangles of early R.E.M. and the straightforward urgent bass lines of The Railway Children.  I also keep thinking of the version of The Jesus and Mary Chain’s re-take of “The Hardest Walk” from the Some Kind of Wonderful movie soundtrack.  This album is on the Slumberland Record label as well, so that alone is both an influence and a stamp of high quality.

There’s a dreamy sentimentality to these songs that creates a wonderful nostalgia for naïve times in our lives when our emotions are especially dramatic and unjaded by life’s experience.  It’s so refreshing and familiar that there’s no way to not feel comfortable and at home listening to Every Heaven.

The title track is a brief instrumental opener with a pounding drum machine and an ever ascending exploratory feel that ends with a woman’s voice saying “What is it about this place?  It’s like another world” before segueing  into the very Field Mice-like “There and Back Again,” (another Sarah reference?) which is so unbelievably catchy that it’s kind of unfair.  Loren’s vocals are friendly and humble sounding with a hint of emotion and maybe a dose of impatience or excited anticipation.  The thing is that the next song “Superbloom” is every bit as addictive, as well as “Wave Goodbye,” with its cascading guitars and its spectacular bridge and chorus.  I don’t know who does the backing vocals, but when they appear the harmonies are fantastic! 

Side two does not let up at all, as “See Through You” surges with great energy and another perfect chorus, “Eternal Blue” evokes the greatness of The Cure’s timeless 1987 single “Just Like Heaven” (that keyboard!).  Most of these songs are upbeat and exciting.  The lower tempo songs add a nice dynamic, and more of those yearning keyboards that transport one to somewhere “a million miles away,” as repeated in “Ultraviolet.”

Every Heaven is an album that I cannot stop listening to.  It feels like I’ve been listening to these songs all of my life and the songs always feel like a soothing balm to any kind of ills.  Like visiting with a longtime friend.  The kind of friend one can relate to no matter the passage of time.. 

(https://heyhumdrum.bandcamp.com/album/every-heaven)

 

Humdrum "There and Back Again"

 

Reflections

 

Bright Like Stars

Reflections

(self released)

Well, this is a revelation.  I come to this by being a fan of Neil Burkdoll’s instrumental work with the fantastic band Whimsical.  I’ve long admired the dream pop vistas he has created with singer/songwriter Krissy Vanderwoude, and especially how his music has progressively improved through the years.  In a similar long distance songwriting style, Burkdoll has joined forces with Craig Douglas (from bands Neonach and Omega Vague – though I’ve never heard of either) to conjure up a varied collection of heavy alternative guitar rock.  I use the term “alternative,” because these songs kind of remind me of listening to those mid 90s “alternative rock” radio stations when they exploded onto the scene. 

These songs invoke the spirit of the sounds of a bunch of those bands, but not any particular one.  Each song is different in a way that listening to a variety of different bands on a radio station might be, and honestly, each song is varied within.  I’ll admit that there is a mild sense of nostalgia for this old fart while listening to the aptly titled Reflections, but not in a direct way.  These songs are completely all their own.  Douglas’s vocals do remind me a bit of a meeting point between Perry Farrell and Alice in Chains’ Layne Staley, while Burkdoll’s music runs the gamut from the My Bloody Valentine buzzing howls of the first single “Reeling” (available now) to a few tastefully well placed guitar solos.

While there are some heavy moments that recall Gish – era Smashing Pumpkins, such as the opening “Ever Fading,”  “The Healing,” and the powerhouse “The End,” there are uptempo numbers as well, like the dreamy vocals on top of a Bad Religion drum beat, along with several crunchy/catchy pop tunes like “Star Dust,” “The Less You know,” and both the album closer and my early favorite song “On the Other Side,” with its soaring chorus.

There’s a freshness to Reflections that reminds me of the first time I hear DC band Shudder to Think way back in 1991.  It checks a lot of boxes, feels comfortable and familiar, yet wholly new.  It feels like these guys were inspired and had fun creating these songs, and its infectious.  Plus this is a "Name Your Own Price" release on Band camp!  Check it out when it relases on November 29th, it's definitely worth your time.

(https://brightlikestars.bandcamp.com/album/reflections)

Whichever Way the Wind Blows

Last summer I was introduced to reruns of a show from the early 90s named Tropical Heat, or as it was known in the US, Sweating Bullets – a part of Crimetime After Primetime *.  It was a basic private detective TV show set in on a fictional Florida Key, kind of a Rockford Files updated for the 90s.  I had not previously heard of it.  It took me several episodes to warm to it.  The show was a low budget affair that recycled a lot of actors that are often cringe worthy.  It was clearly a vehicle for fist fighting action and bikini clad women and the shirtless hero, Nick Slaughter, in sunny tropical beach environs.  I became obsessed.  When I first heard the terrible, reggae-lite theme song, all of my sensibilities rejected it, but soon enough, I began watching the opening of the show regularly on YouTube just to listen to the song.

 

Strangely I began to feel wistful while watching these subpar episodes of a show that I couldn’t find anyone who had ever even heard of before.  It reminded me of my late high school years, when I had mostly given up sleep and would find myself getting weepy over a silly plot from The Patty Duke Show at 3AM.  I tried chalking it up to spending too much time alone, but this felt deeper.  I began to feel an emotional attachment to all of it – the main characters, the environment, that awful theme - rivalling long lost happy memories, as one might reflect on a summer fling from a teenage week spent at a fun away camp – déjà vu. 

 All of this felt wrong to me.  Why?  Why was this stupid show getting to me?  Eventually, it dawned on me that I have a history of highly rating superfluous TV shows and movies.  Like the aforementioned Patty Duke Show.  The movie I’ve seen more than any other is the late 70s Chevy Chase/Goldie Hawn vehicle Foul Play, though the original Fletch is a close second.  For years I have claimed that Ski School and its odd sequel, Ski School 2, are my favorite movies ever.  I’ve always said this with a sardonic tongue in my cheek, but knowing full well that I’d rather watch those than a universally acknowledged masterpieces. 

The answer I’ve come up with is that many of these characters, like the misfit ski school hero gang Section 8, Fletch, and Nick Slaughter are all wise cracking goofballs who say and do what they want – consequences be damned.  Of course they all have hearts of gold, but it’s the chaos they create with their honesty and combination of no bullshit and lack of concern for serious consequences that I find so appealing.  In Ski School, the thesis statement of the movie is: “in order to succeed you must lose your mind.”  Rumor has it that there may not have been a script, which would surprise no one who has seen the movie. 

I have lived my life following rules.  I’ve always been wound pretty tight.  One time my friend Wil convinced me to hop the commuter train for a few stops without paying the fare, and the entirety of the trip (<10 minutes), I was sweaty, itchy, and terrified.  Towards the end of our journey a pair of security guards boarded the train and my anxiety about being caught pushed me into a full on panic attack.  I didn’t get drunk or high growing up – not out of any kind of moral or health stance, but for fear of losing control.  This must be why characters who throw caution to the wind have such an appeal for me.  I’m not talking thrill seeking behavior, like skydiving or what not, I’m talking about those who challenge authority, when authority is in the way of justice - whatever that means. 

Don’t get me wrong, I am fully aware that these shows and movies I’m referencing are very of their time and incredibly unrealistic.  There can be an uncomfortable level of misogyny, lack of diversity, and of course a prevailing white male privilege – I mean, only a white guy could get away with being such a wise-ass malcontent to the police or any authority and avoid any consequences right?  Newspaper reporter Fletch broke all of the rules AND essentially gives the middle finger to the police chief, Nick Slaughter regularly mocks the local police, the mischief making misfits from Ski School constantly play cruel pranks on essentially everyone and when confronted with possible retribution, simply double down and intensify their wacky pranks and beer consumption.  The only threatened reprimand for their misdeeds is that their skiing privileges will be taken way, so the inevitable conclusion is: “They can’t stop us from partying, so they can’t stop us from skiing.”  I’m also aware that these ridiculous characters would be frustrating in real life.  Whatever charm they may have would burn away the instant that they get you involved in some kind of horrific street fight, or worse. 

After slowly working my way through watching the entirety of the show Tropical Heat, I learned that there had been a documentary made in 2012 named Slaughter Nick for President, which chronicles lead actor Rob Stewart’s visit to Serbia fifteen years after the show’s demise.  Apparently, this show had developed a cult popularity in Serbia during the 1990s civil war in the former Yugoslavia.  It seems that the sunny environs and freewheeling, yet doggedly loyal, lead character, Nick Slaughter, resonated with some of the populace in amongst that country’s darkest days.  I think I managed to tap into this strange idealism in some small way. 

 

Recognizing that I have had a buttoned up fascination with the idea of being more of a risk taker has been valuable.  At this stage of my life, I’ve grown to be content with who I am to a certain level.  I do not want to push the envelope too far and suffer very real consequences from stupid actions – I never have – but now I refuse to feel regret over risks not taken.  Perhaps I can simply enjoy watching these goofy shows, enjoy watching the freedom that these fictional characters exhibit, and do my best to take small leaps every once in a while. 

My refusal to stream movies and be involved with all of the high quality television available today frustrates a lot of people.  I clearly watch way too much TV, but I have little patience for getting involved with something that demands time and attention.  I like my rabbit ears sketchily picking up broadcast channels mostly airing old family friendly reruns and other formulaic shows.  If I can watch Tropical Heat reruns on channel 29.4 most evenings and daydream about being a reckless hero, then you know what?  I’m good with that. 

 

 

 

 

* 

·        In 1991, the CBS television network had abandoned their many failed attempts at competing with NBC’s late night talk show dominance against Johnny Carson’s The Tonight Show with similar talk shows hosted by a variety of celebrities.  Instead, they began filling that post late local news programming slot with a bunch of “edgy” hour long crime dramas that they advertised as Crimetime After Primetime.  Other than seeing the occasional promotion for these shows, I never bothered to watch any of them.  They were all unceremoniously canceled after a couple of years, as soon as CBS scored a deal with David Letterman to host a talk show against the Tonight Show.  The only show (I think) that survived was the colorful and titillating cop procedural Silk Stalkings, which moved to the cable channel USA and thrived throughout the entirety of the 90s.  At any rate, back then, I became obsessed with the idea of Crimetime After Primetime and would find any excuse to say it in my best gravelly  and deep announcer voice.  I have a strange memory of practicing the voice alone in a public restroom with especially interesting acoustics and emerging to a couple of mystified onlookers.

 

Ultracopacetic

 

Velocity Girl

Ultracopacetic

(SubPop)

In an attempt to look back to the early 90s without revisionist goggles, I am remembering that with their bright and exciting 7” singles, Velocity Girl had become a favorite band and a reliable go to. I’m pretty sure that I had mail ordered all of their singles as they came out and even splurged to collect their Slumberland Records pillow case.  Once I learned that they were signed to the Pacific Northwest’s own Sub Pop records, I remember being pretty excited.  Strange that I cannot remember how I learned of this information.  I mean nowadays, it’s difficult to not know about the dealings of any music artist one follows, but back then, how did we access this news?  It’s like that strange realization that I used to be able to find various locales, unassisted, just by glancing at an address.  These days, I feel lucky to find the outside without navigation.  At any rate, once Velocity Girl’s debut album, Copacetic, arrived in 1993, it failed to make the expected impact.  Don’t get me wrong, I liked it, but for reasons I could not fully grasp, it didn’t land the same way as their prior work.  The singles, like “Crazy Town” with its undeniably infectious chorus, the cowbell-laden “Pop Loser,” and the rush of “Audrey’s Eyes” are all VG classics.  I’m certain that my attentions, experiences, mild variations in taste, and mood during this time contributed to my lackluster reception and I’m sorry to say that my broken jewel-cased copy got shelved rather rapidly.

 

As a collector of music, I am one of those frustrating (frustrated?) nerds who has fallen into the trap of spending all of my earnings (and more) on every possible release a favorite band or greedy record label presents.  We’re talking those 90s era UK import singles that would include a double CD single (sold separately, though one might have a collector’s case), a 7”, 10”, and 12” single – all with unique B-sides.  Then there are the box sets, best of collections, reissues, and anniversary editions (am I painting a vulgar enough picture yet?) that I would be enticed to collect because there is supposed to be a previously unreleased demo dangling like a carrot there-in.  Like a recovering addict, over the past twenty or so years, I’ve tried incredibly hard to refrain from continuing to fall prey to these urges.

It was with a bit of skepticism that I approached the release of a remixed and remastered version of Copacetic, and yet here it is and here I am whole-heartedly recommending it.  As I said before, there is nothing wrong with the original version, and it is still going to remain intact as is, but the absolute no frills original did not fully capture the special essence of Velocity Girl’s strengths.  One might wonder if, because of the time period where “selling out” was quite possibly the biggest possible sin and career killer in indie music, that the original mix was so dry and frankly uncommercial.  It did not present the warm glow of their catchy melodies, and it smoothed over their dramatic noise dynamics.  Thirty years later, band member, Archie Moore, has remixed the LP and seamlessly adjusted the mix, and it is now the album that I had always wanted!

These subtle changes are evident immediately.  The songs sound like they have more room to breathe.  The powerhouse opener, “Pretty Sister” feels more dynamic with its alternating feedback-laden foot stomping jams and Sarah Shannon’s vocals, which are mildly pushed more upfront throughout.  The title track was always a standout, but here it’s a revelation, while the prior murky “A Chang” has been transformed into an oddly complex juxtaposition between 80s Midwest/DC postpunk and a 4AD Records abstract experimental/atmospheric sound. 

I’m so happy with this release.  This is the Velocity Girl that I originally fell in love with, and not to be missed are the added bonus of the B-sides and session outtakes (so happy to hear the “Warm/Crawl” single again!), along with five songs from their 1993 Peel Sessions.  Cheers to Ultracopacetic!!  This will likely spark a collector nerd relapse.

(https://velocitygirl.bandcamp.com/album/ultracopacetic-copacetic-remixed-and-expanded)

Velocity Girl "Crazy Town"

A Pleasant Journey

 

Copperplate

A Pleasant Journey

(Self-released)

Lauren Grace is Copperplate from Georgia.  Lauren has been busy.  Since May of this year, Copperplate has loaded Bandcamp with three albums with another one due on September 20^th.  I’ll be honest, it’s too much for me.  I am old and incredibly have become even more thick-headed over time, so music takes its time seep through.  When I was younger, I could hear an album once and have pretty much all of the song titles memorized, know a lot of the lyrics, and bizarrely, maybe even the exact length of songs.  Forty years later, I have forgotten all of those things, and struggle to absorb new music.  There is a real danger of me purchasing songs more than once.  I have to be careful!  In the case of Copperplate, I am just now grasping this third digital only collection A Pleasant Journey, and have yet to explore the first two options and am trying to prepare for the upcoming one (Contentment).  From what I’m gathering is that Copperplate is incapable of writing a subpar song.

A Pleasant Journey is definitely in store for those who enjoy dreamy indie pop.  These intimate recordings are full of meticulous cleanly plucked guitar chimes and jangles (hinting at early Ocean Blue), over a hazy base of quiet vocals and other instrumentation.  If pressed to compare, Copperplate lands somewhere between Seattle’s Sea Lemon (especially on the ultra-catchy “Oh Okay,” and its jaunty bass-line) and San Francisco’s Tanikichan.  Lauren has a knack for memorable choruses and I love the guitar work throughout - a sound that instills reflection, and daydreams of rain clouds on the horizon.  “Preoccupy,” has a booming low end that is incredibly appealing, while “Grand Central” ruminates over our limited time lines in a warm way that reminds me of Depeche Mode’s “Here is the House.”

I’m pretty sure that Copperplate can write, record, and mix an entire album of consistent high quality songs faster than I can fully consume them.  Speaking of which, Copperplate has removed the earlier releases from their Bandcamp page, so be sure to check out A Pleasant Journey as quickly as you can, and get ready for the next album in a few weeks! 

(https://copperplatemusic.bandcamp.com/album/a-pleasant-journey)

Copperplate "Preoccupy"

We Should Have Walked But We Ran

For a lot of people, talking about dreams is a deal breaker.  I love dreams.  Even the really dark ones spark a deep wonder in me.  I enjoy hearing about other’s dreams and am fascinated with the mystery of them.  My interest doesn’t go so far as deep diving into trying to interpret them, but it can be an enjoyable conversation.    I’ve never been a good sleeper, but have always been a good dreamer.  After experiencing a couple of creepy in hospital sleep clinics, I’ve been told by the professionals that I do not delve into all of the stages of sleep, but instead only drift into the first stage - a semiconscious state, which can provide incredibly lucid dreams.  Clearly, I have not done a lot of intensive research of this phenomenon, but I can confirm that I do, and always have had vivid and memorable dreams.

A  couple of years ago I stopped working due to medical disability, yet my mind seems to want to continue work, because I continue to frequently have restless dreams involving work, which generally include not being able to accomplish tasks and finding myself overwhelmed.  Because I’m not currently employed these dreams generally are a strange mishmash of many of my previous jobs, which give them an added stress due to their incongruity. 

All through my high school years, which was an unbelievable amount of years ago, I worked at a small town pizza joint.  While working there, my fellow co-workers and I often discussed our shared dreams caused by working long hours there.  It turned out that many of us had similar nightmares about falling behind during the crazy busy stretches.  One that still haunts me is being afraid to fall asleep because of the danger of burning an oven full of pizzas.  Several times, I remember waking up in my bed actually physically trying to use a pizza paddle to remove finished pizzas from my headboard.  Aside from those moments, the job was mostly fun.  The place was run by teenagers and my co-workers were also friends and confidants.  We had our own lingo and our shared experiences made us a tight family of sorts.  Our stripes were made up of bleach stained jeans and rotten sneakers.

I still occasionally dream about that place.  Recently, as usual, I was having a restless night trying to sleep.  I gave up several times, got out of bed, and managed to accomplish some chores and watch TV to try to settle my thoughts before attempting sleep again.  Next thing I knew i was standing with my cane next to that pizza place’s salad bar, which stood across from the beverage bar.  It was all there: the ice packed around a couple of dozen plastic canisters of salad toppings, adorned with kale fronds, both stained with beet juice and dribbles of various dressings freckled with strange rust colored bacon bits.  

The layout of that place consists of two side entrances – one on each side of the restaurant, an upper balcony of booths that run along three quarters of the rectangle that makes up the seating area, an open lower area offers large group sized tables behind the salad bar and beneath the upper level, and it’s designed so that customers order their meal at one counter fronting the open kitchen, and then order beverages at a different counter further into the building.

 

In the dream, my cousin Nikki and her husband Brett (cousin-in-law?), who are successful purveyors of hospitality businesses in Moscow, ID, had purchased this long-time pizzeria and were holding a grand opening of sorts.  They were there near where I was standing, along with three of my old friends/former co-workers: Ken, Eric, and Jamie – all of us filled out and decaying at various stages from age.  Apparently, Sylvester Stallone was sitting in a booth above us, surrounded by a small posse of security.  He was a celebrity guest of honor.  The biggest celebrity invite since Annette Funicello had been a confirmed no show for a high school dance that was held in the restaurant back in 1987.

 

At that point, I noticed that the front counter was empty of customers and the pizza maker and oven runner were folding pizza box flats into their finished state.  They were creating an impossibly tall stack, so that anyone trying to access one to put a finished pizza into will most likely knock the entire stack over.  This had been common practice back in my days of employment.  I decided to go stand at the counter and let the two teenagers know about my approval of their shenanigans.

 

As I approached the counter, the teenage girl who was there to take food orders, kind of made eye contact with me, before ducking down the hallway that takes one to the back are of the restaurant.

“Hey guys!” I stammered loudly, without warning, “Nice job with the Mega-Stack!”  I leaned into my cane with my right hand and waved my uncontrollable left hand in a useless effort to indicate that giant stack of folded pizza boxes.  “Just like we used to do!” I added, for unnecessary emphasis.  I hated every word that I had shouted.

The two guys looked at each other across the work table that divided them, instead of looking back at me, and after a pause, the pizza maker on the right, after a pause, while still maintaining eye contact with the oven guy, replied: “Thank you SIR.  I bet you got some tall stacks back in those days” 

The acerbity in his voice was exactly as it should’ve been and exactly how Ken, Eric, Jamie and I would have responded to such an invasion 30-40 years ago.  I spun slowly around and scooted back towards the small gathering of people standing on the main level below where Sylvester Stallone was holding court.  My cousin Nikki made eye contact with me, and as I approached, she asked me if the two guys had been rude to me, and looked prepared to scold them. 

“Not at all,” I responded.  They treated me, exactly as they should have, I looked back at the kitchen and the oven runner was tossing three pizza cutters into the air over the work table, as the pizza maker shouted out random instructions about how to juggle.