Swing the Heartache

 

Bauhaus

Swing the Heartache: The BBC Sessions

(Beggars Banquet 1989)

Bauhaus, the 1979-1983 UK post punk band is largely credited with being one of the founders of the Gothic Rock movement.  Their 1979 debut single, “Bela Lugosi’s Dead,” is likely the main reason.  This nine-plus minute epic of dark low end bass strikes and Peter Murphy’s haunting repetitive chants of “oh Bela” and “undead” provided the groundwork for some creepy shit.  It’s funny to me that though they can easily be seen as forefathers of the Gothic Rock movement, I’ve not really ever thought of them in those terms.  It reminds me of a portion of writer Chuck Klosterman’s 2016 non-fiction book But What if We’re Wrong?  Forgive me if I misrepresent this, since it’s been nine years since I’ve read the book, but I seem to remember a section discussing the way history can be interpreted in different ways.  How things get condensed.  Who will be remembered most from 20^th century rock-n-roll?  The Beatles?  Elvis Presley?  The Rolling Stones?  What about the other several thousand artists that made massive cultural impacts?  Who might be most remembered forty years from now, as time and perspectives change and fade?  I’ve noticed the phenomenon for years, once the oldies, classic rock, and 70s & 80s radio formats began popping up on the AM/FM dials, and even now over streaming services.  For example, 80s new wave band the Thompson Twins had seven top 40 hits in the US.  Once the 80s became a genre, that band was reduced to only one hit: “Hold Me Now.”  I bring this up, because recently I put Bauhaus’ 1989 collection of BBC Radio recordings (Swing the Heartache) into my listening pile, and I find that it still sounds fresh, creative, and exciting.  Bauhaus were not a band to be pigeon-holed to the point of cliché.  I’m not going to argue that they were not Goth Rock founders.  They definitely embraced the sound, visuals, and aesthetic of the macabre and the occult.  The wonderful album cover for Swing the Heartache: The BBC Sessions, looks up at an old spiral staircase surrounded by peeling painted walls with a ghostly figure ascending the stairs, which evokes their ghostly debut single.  However, the music and performances inside show a highly varied creative band who were willing to have fun and experiment and take chances. 

My introduction to Bauhaus was via my long time friend Wil.  I think it was 1985, and I was staying over at his family’s place.  We were a couple of 14 year olds chatting about our burgeoning musical discoveries late at night in his basement bedroom.  Wil put on his recently secured 12” single by Bauhaus named “She’s in Parties” on the turntable.  I had never heard of them, and Wil pronounced their name as “The Bajas” – as in Baja, California.  “She’s in Parties” was mildly intriguing.  To be honest, I wasn’t really sure what I felt about it at first listen.  It was different from that stuff from the predominantly hit radio I was used to.  Yet, when he excitedly flipped the record over to the B-side, I heard what sounded like a ping pong ball bouncing as a beat (or water dripping from a faucet into a tub), a walking bass-line and a British accented voice mumbling a surreal story and it was captivating!  This strange song was creepy and fun, and different than anything that I had ever heard and yet I identified with it.  The line “even the wallpaper had become sinister to him” crept into my psyche, because I had always been very emotionally effected by my surroundings, and had often contemplated why certain colors have made me uncomfortable. 

 

A few years later, I learned more about the band, and how to pronounce their name, and how they took their moniker from an early 20^th century German architectural school/movement.  I finally purchased a new CD single re-release of their first single “Bela Lugosi’s Dead.”  I loved it, but honestly its length was daunting.  Its atmosphere was heavy, so I understood where the “I fart bats” Gothic reputation had come from.  At the same time, I recognized it as a twisted type of Dub.  The delay and echo reminded more of sunshiny beaches of Jamaica, than towering castles and bat caves.  Still, I wanted to hear more.

 

It wasn’t until the summer of 1989 that I finally purchased one of Bauhaus’ full length CDs.  It was Swing the Heartache: The BBC Sessions, which is a compilation and not one of their proper planned albums.  By that time, I was already fully immersed and fascinated by BBC Radio sessions.  Certain BBC Radio DJ’s would commission bands to record songs especially for their radio shows.  These sessions were done quickly, so they are a perfect balance between hearing a band live with the sonic clarity of a studio recording, so they are often illuminating and livelier than the more well-known versions from albums.  Bauhaus chose to use these sessions to record covers of other artist’s songs, experiment, and stretch their creativity.  I purchased this CD, because it had their cover of David Bowie’s “Ziggy Stardust” and that weird “Departure.”  I cannot emphasize enough how often I’ve listened to this collection that summer.  It wasn’t long before I knew every nuance of every song and repeatedly found myself driving off the road as I blasted “Ziggy” while air drumming.  It wasn’t long before I secured the band’s four albums (at that time).  Though, I enjoy all of those albums (especially The Sky’s Gone Out, 1982), they never hit me like this collection.

 

By late August of that year, I found myself in a dorm room at a small town college I had almost randomly chosen at the last moment.  I had only a few of my of couple hundred CD collection with me.  I had little in common with my new roommates, it was uncomfortably hot and smelled like a cow pasture everywhere I went.  I was lying on my back reading a heavy, outrageously expensive science textbook for a class that was required, yet had no interest in.   A high school teacher had taught me to read lying on my back, because if I start to get sleepy, the book will fall on my face as I drift off.  Let’s just say that I was getting beat up pretty good.  Suddenly, I heard the opening notes of Bauhaus’ “God in an Alcove” come drifting through my dorm room wall.  At first I only recognized it as a welcome diversion to the monotony, until I realized that someone I didn’t know was playing a song that I had been obsessed with for the past several weeks.

“God in an Alcove” from Bauhaus’ embryonic BBC recording for legendary DJ John Peel is so alive with energy and mystery.  Daniel Ash’s spindly guitar and the brothers Haskins’ (David J bass and Kevin Haskins drums) unveiling rhythm flows into Peter Murphy’s rich dual vocals, which bounce around at you from all angles, as two different narrators.  I dare you not to be drawn in by the insanity as Murphy repeats “I feel silly” in various voices.  The song rocks with that blistering guitar in the bridge that explodes from the meandering build up.  What a masterfully dramatically structured song!   It was the first time that I ever thought of them as a regular rock band.  This is from their first radio session in 1980, which also includes a cover of T. Rex’s “Telegram Sam,” which expertly alters the guitar riff that T Rex had recycled from his hit “Bang a Gong (Get it On)” and Bauhaus puts the song into overdrive.  There are four covers in this five session 18 song collection.  The afore mentioned cover of Bowie’s “Ziggy Stardust” is likewise injected with some punk energy.  Providing a very accurate cover with more urgency and spunk and a top 20 UK chart single.  Apparently at the time, critics accused Bauhaus of mining some of glam rock’s greats, so they embraced it and steered into the curve and covered these essential classics.  Bauhaus’s “Third Uncle” cover may not be as edgy and obtuse as Brian Eno’s original, but it has a frenetic energy that takes it to another level.  The final cover is “Night Time” by The Strangeloves a mid-60.s fake pop band, who also hit with “I Want Candy” later made famous by Bow Wow Wow in the early 80s.  This cover is very faithful to the original, and has never captured my attention in any way.  I feel like I knew of the song prior via a TV beer commercial when I was a toddler.

 When I heard “A God in an Alcove” through my dorm room wall, I moved unconsciously like a cobra being drawn to sway by a snake charmer.  I wandered to my neighbor’s door and knocked.  Turns out it was Jeff.  We had met via the University’s strange summer camp inspired freshman orientation week.  We were both in the same group of roughly eight students each all named after animals.  We were the turkeys, and we took on the identity of the loser group.  We weren’t the lions, or the gorillas, we were awkward birds that can drown by rain.  Jeff and I are still friends after all of these years.  We bonded through our music tastes and a shared sense of absurdity.  Speaking of absurd, “Departure” and its strange narrative is paired with “Party of the First Part,” which Jeff and I still quote to this day.  The swing jazz background music sets the stage for another age old cautionary tale for someone selling their soul to the devil for personal gain in the short-term.  This tale is courtesy of the 30 minute Canadian children’s cartoon “The Devil & Danial Mouse.”  The story lays out perfectly with the over-the-top Devil voice.  It’s like the band were watching this cartoon in the studio, while adding the laid back instrumental, and funny tongue-in-cheek sounds like the slide whistle and the “aaaah” chorus when Jan Mouse says “I trust you” to B.L. Zebub, along with their general chatter calling it “absurd” and “silly.”  Still there’s never a time that I don’t want to hear this song.

 

This refreshing collection also works as a “greatest hits.”  So many of their best known songs are here in their most inspired and earliest form.  This is where their power as a collective band is at its strongest.  Bauhaus seemed to agree with this, as they sometimes used these radio session versions on their albums.  Peter Murphy’s vocals throughout are more unhinged and exciting, especially in the first couple of sessions as in the “I dare you” shouts in “Double Dare” and the grinding workout of “In the Flat Field.”  Musically as well, this quartet were tight.  Everything falls into place, as the guitars squall and blister atop incredible bass-lines and incredibly creative drumming.  The album version of “St. Vitus Dance” sounds almost cartoonish next to the more alive dissonance of the radio session version.  This collection includes many of their best known songs such as “Silent Hedges,” “She’s in Parties,” and “Terror Couple Kill Colonel,” but don’t overlook the waltz of “The Three Shadows Part 2,” and the high drama of “Swing the Heartache,” which in my opinion is far superior to the slower LP version.  Plus, is it just me or is the paranoia of “The Spy in the Cab,” especially prescient.  Peter Murphy’s performance is not only astounding, it’s much more relevant now than it was in January of 1980: “A Twenty four hour unblinking watch / Installed to pry / Installed to cop.” 

Whatever the case, it’s a shame that this Bauhaus collection has fallen mostly out of sight.  It isn’t easy to find, yet it might be their best and most vital release.  It displays their ability to transcend genres and it also feels like they had a blast recording these songs.  The sense of freedom is palpable.  There is no second guessing here, which infuses these songs with a fun exuberance that is addictive.  There will never be a time that Swing the Heartache: The BBC Sessions will not be essential listening. 

 

Bauhaus "Ziggy Stardust"

Bringing Home the Ashes

 

The Wild Swans 

Bringing Home the Ashes 

(Sire 1988) 

When I was a young kid, I struggled to sleep at night.  I used to lay in bed for hours tossing and turning trying to find some way to relax and get to sleep.  Sometimes I found some relief by imaging that my bed was out in a wild wind storm in the middle of an isolated place far from civilization or away from help.  In order to survive the storm, I would have to hunker down, curl up snugly in my blankets to keep warm and be protected from the imaginary deluge.  Plus I had to stay calm to be ready for any unforeseen dangers and problems.  This narrative was made more intense when our home was actually being battered by the fierce winter wind storms that occasionally ripped through our small town on the Oregon coast.  Hearing 70-110 mph wind gusts physically assault our home made everything more vivid.  The staying calm part of my waking dreams would help me eventually drift off to sleep, or at the very least I would be entertained by my pretend disaster narrative.

 

I was first introduced to Northern England’s The Wild Swans via the Sire Records compilation sampler Just Say Yes in late 1987.  I bought it because it was cheap and had a couple of songs by established favorites like Depeche Mode, Echo and the Bunnymen, Erasure, and The Smiths.  It wasn’t until the following spring that The Wild Swans’ fitting song “Young Manhood” became an obsession.  I say fitting, because I was in the midst of becoming a young man, had recently become a licensed driver, and was earning a regular income, and became responsible for managing that money and buying my own stuff (clothes, food, necessities), and to perhaps save for my upcoming college years.  I failed at money management and spent all of it on CDs and records.  What’s interesting to me is that that fruitful sampler introduced me to The Replacements, James, Throwing Muses, The Mighty Lemon Drops, and of course, The Wild Swans.  By the spring of 1988, I would skip those songs that first tempted me to this collection and would only listen to these other bands’ song and even some of their albums, such as The Mighty Lemon Drops’ excellent World Without End album, which I played constantly.  However, I could not find any music by The Wild Swans anywhere.  That summer (1988), a second Sire compilation surfaced in a similar fashion named Just Say Yo, and had another track by the Wild Swans.  This one was named “Bible Dreams,” and the lush and urgent sound of it sent chills up and down my spine.  It instantly transported me to another reality – a new reality that I desperately wanted to visit.

 

There’s a howl that leads up into the persistent drums of the opening track and that first single “Young Manhood.”  The drums feel like it is trudging up too many stairs.  It’s fitting considering the futility of the chorus: “Here it comes: young manhood / One day all of this will be yours.”  It starts out like a congratulations for reaching this milestone and now (wave of the arms) ‘here you go – deal with all of these shitty problems.’  At seventeen, that’s exactly how I felt.  I did not (and still don’t) know what I wanted to do, where I wanted to be, or know how to get to any of these things, but now responsibility was slapping me in the face.  Paul Simpson’s lyrics throughout this album seem to be drawn from a post-war England perspective.  A time of rebuilding and what must have been a time of uncertainty.  How do we do this?  How do we proceed?  This reflection and doubt juxtaposed with loads of Christian references really speaks to me.  There’s a lot of perseverance within these lyrics that feel like passages from a great classic novel, yet almost every moment of triumph is tempered by failure or loss.  The brilliant title track “Bringing Home the Ashes” provides the line: “the heart in the heart of England can never die” just before the chorus begins: “Bringing home the ashes / is more than I can bear.”  The dreamy keyboards that introduce this song combined with the lovely repetitive guitar melody has always been my favorite.

 Jeremy (Jem) Kelly really shines throughout!  His guitar work is exemplary, and I believe that it’s highly underrated.  That howl I mentioned earlier is a key for me.  It kind of sounds like a muted version of a train whirring through a tunnel, or as I envisioned in my youth: a howling wind.  Most of these songs are adorned with this sound in some way or other adding to the gravity of the words and creating an atmosphere that expanded my world view and made me feel like I was privy to knowledge regarding human nature that maybe I wasn’t quite ready for.  I truly think that my fascination and love of his guitar stylings is still influencing the types of music I gravitate toward.  Kelly’s guitar work however is everything I was looking for at that time.  His ability to create those controlled feedback howls, his lithe fills and twinkling plucks of pristine notes.  He’s like a cross between the best of Johnny Marr, Will Sergeant, and the soon to shine at that time David Schelzel from the Ocean Blue. 

It’s difficult for me to highlight songs here, because every song has been a favorite at some point over the past 35+ years.  Listening to it now, I’m finding that even the one song that I never really loved: “Mythical Beast” has blossomed for me now.  Kelly’s guitar solo is so simple, so elegant, and so spine tingling!  Plus I love that whatever the mythical beast in this allegory is, once the angry disillusioned character finds power from this beast, he stubbornly refuses to share it with the world or anyone at all.  It’s a telling example of humankind’s selfishness.  The greatness never fails to inspire and entertain.  

Over all of these years, aside from the already mentioned tracks, favorites include the ‘swallow your medicine’ message of the bright sounding “Bitterness.”  This might be when I first understood the power of pairing heavy lyrics with jaunty pop music.  I cannot forget “Northern England” either.  This melodic masterpiece has always connected with me, not because I identify with northern England (never been), but the lyric refrain “while prayers go unanswered / seeds thrown in the dark” feels appropriate as I’ve always struggled with people’s faith in Christianity and ‘the power of prayer.’  Then there’s the endlessly addictive “Now and Forever” that plays as a coming of age tale and the harsh reality of unmet expectations and dashed hopes. “You want the life you can’t afford / after all that you’ve been through / soon it will be over / boy has this town crippled you.”  Joseph Fearon’s grinding bass here is a highlight.  In fact Fearon’s bass-lines are quietly magnificent throughout.  They humbly anchor these songs with a deep low end, yet they are more than that.  There’s something incredibly memorable and comfortable about the bass-lines that drive these tracks.  Bringing Home the Ashes closes with the straight-forward “The Worst Year of My Life.”  Continuing on with the notion of crushed dreams and inevitability “The Worst Year of My Life” is not as specific as it sounds.  It’s not a list of bad events from the narrator’s past year.  It feels more like a chronicling of how our beginning circumstances can predict or determine our future circumstances.  It’s an unforgiving look at life.  The second verse has always been a depressing favorite: “you were born hungry and you’ll die angry / and if life has failed you leave the cross you’re nailed to / you belong to no one and you owe nothing / there’s no golden future just an open wound there.”  At that time of my life: soon to graduate high school, it felt like a splash of reality versus the ‘future is yours’ and ‘you can achieve anything’ slogans that were being fed ad infinitum.

 

I’ve heard that Simpson disavows this album.  I can understand that he felt like he lost control of his art through the machinery of the music business, and what is up with the drums?  There’s no drummer credited.  Are they real?  Is it a drum machine?  They sound unreal and weirdly dated.  There are some strange choices.  But you know what?  I love these songs, and they introduced me to The Wild Swans’ limited catalog.  I hungrily snapped up their Peel Session EP, which includes the song “No Bleeding,” which is such a brilliant masterpiece that it never fails to overwhelm my senses, and I found their famous debut single “Revolutionary Spirit,” on a Zoo Records compilation.  As an aside, this rare and very limited original vinyl single was added to a list of requests in the Beaverton Tower Records import section every few weeks.  I’m not sure who thought this was reasonable, but they were persistent.

 

The inspiration to profess my longstanding love of this album has come from a variety of resources.  Recently, The H.I. Art on the Edge Surprise Cast has had thoughtful interviews with both Simpson and Kelly individually (https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/surprise-cast/id1723695740), the next book on my que to read is Simpson’s memoir Revolutionary Spirit: A Post-punk Exorcism, along with a healthy dose of nostalgia and a need for something familiar and comforting.  Once I re-listened to the album again after several years of dormancy, I was moved to share these thoughts.  I realize that the Wild Swans have been highly regarded by those in the know, yet it seems that they are not known by enough people. 

The Wild Swans "Young Manhood"

Basilisk

 

J. Robbins

Basilisk

(Dischord)

 For those unaware, J. Robbins was the vocalist/guitarist of two fantastic punk/post-punk bands from the 90s: Jawbox and Burning Airlines.  I am a huge fan of Jawbox especially.  Their 1991 debut album, Grippe, was without a doubt, one of those game-changing albums for me, because it opened up an entirely new world of US based punk rock for me.  By that point, I was fairly well versed with the legendary bands, but they were mostly in the past.  Jawbox was fresh, new, and energetic. 

Apparently, Basilisk is J. Robbins’ second solo album, so I will have to go back and check that out, but only after I encourage people to check out and give this album serious consideration.  Robbins did not fall completely off of my music radar, as I have admired his very clean production work over the past too many years, such as Jets to Brazil’s incredible Orange Rhyming Dictionary, The Promise Ring’s Very Emergency, and more recently in my collection, Thrushes’ Exposing Seas.  It’s been over twenty years since I’ve heard Robbins’ voice, and it may sound goofy, but hearing him sing again froze me in time.  It was incredibly welcome and amazing how he sounds exactly the same to me.  It’s like running into an old friend after many years and finding out that you’re both still the goofy dorks you were originally and still get along.  In this case, I’m a fan of his jaggedly infectious post punk. 

If you were a fan of his former bands, you will surely love this.  Robbins’ songwriting here is tight throughout, as are the performances with the rhythm section he has assembled (bass: Brooks Harlan drums: Darren Zentek), and check out the fiery hot guitar lead from legendary Chicago punk John Haggarty from Naked Raygun and Pegboy on the menacing opening “Automacity.”  “Last War” is a thoughtful look into the idea of not evolving with change, but instead fighting against all of it, and you know what?  It’s also fun to sing along with.  “Exquisite Corpse” is the highlight of highlights for me.  Its energy and sound remind me most of those great Jawbox songs, and is relentlessly catchy.  Robbins addresses the continuing damaging pollution issue on the stuttering “Gasoline Rainbow” mostly via striking imagery, but the verse of “and what good / is the word / of a God / who won’t return / til everything has burned” should strike a note with certain climate change deniers.  Probably not.  Elsewhere “A Ray of Sunlight” sounds like it could be fitted neatly into a Bob Mould album, with its tuneful buzz and those drum fills bridging into the chorus.  It makes perfect sense why Robbins has been invited to open for Mould.  There are some interesting electronic flourishes here and there, but none of it distracts from the mighty focus of the songwriting throughout. 

Learning of this album has been a fantastic and refreshing surprise.  I had assumed that J. Robbins had given up performance, and yet here he is as vital as ever.

(https://jrobbins.bandcamp.com/album/basilisk)

J Robbins "Exquisite Corpse"

Canary Yellow

 

Soft Kill

Canary Yellow

(Cercle Social)

There are those times in High School and college, or thereabouts, where most of us start our search for how we want to be identified.  Identity is important to us when we’re young, because we don’t know what we are.  We’ve been told how to be by our authority figures, but at some point, we begin to question things and try to understand what type of person we want to be.  It’s an exciting and dramatic time, because it feels lonely to search for meaning and direction and exciting, because there’s so much opportunity and discovery.  Oftentimes, the music we develop a taste for becomes a tangible source of community.  We begin to gravitate to others who like similar things.  We change our look and adopt new personas to fit in with a new clique or scene.  Sometimes it can go deep and it is all very serious and very important.

Now that I’m old, I am both mystified by it all, and I miss the promise of those days.  I never really felt like I found a niche when I was young, because I really never wanted to fit in.  I did desperately, but at the same time, was mostly content with being by myself.  It was a time of being sad, because I was lonely, and yet never comfortable with others – especially in groups.  I do, however, miss how fired up I would get when I ran across new music that I felt an affinity for.  That felt like home.  That spoke to me.  That taught me.  That helped me not feel so alone.  Music still does these things for me.  I still get energized when I run across music that fits into my narrow-ish tastes.  However, most of those harken back to those earlier times.  They are nostalgic, even if they are new and by younger artists.

Having said that, within the last few years, I have learned about Portland’s own Soft Kill.  They are fantastic!  They exude that perfect band for young discovery.  At least that’s what I think and feel when I hear them.  They write songs that remind me of “In-Between Days” Cure, that are a bit more “street,” yet which are genuinely sad and reflective, and yet incredibly catchy earworms that can fill one with energy and a real passion and angst.

Soft Kill’s latest offering is Canary Yellow.  I originally got sucked into their energy with their previous proper LP, Dead Kids R.I.P. City, from 2020.  Yes, they remind me of younger days, and I’m okay with that.  I listened to Dead Kids a lot and reveled into those old angsty feelings.  It reminded me how important those times were and thankful that most of those old anxieties became meaningless to me now.  Don’t get me wrong.  My anxieties are numerous – just different.  Canary Yellow is very similar to the previous album with songs full of an energized sadness that are absolutely tuneful.  I mean, this is a fun and enjoyable listen no matter what.

Songwriter, Tobias Grave, has a knack for catchy melodies.  The pre-LP single “Magic Garden” with its acoustic strums and hummable guitar and keyboard melody should be heard by a wider audience, or the endlessly addictive tune that is “Rocks & Blows,” will creep into one’s head and stay there, in a good way.  The piano anointed “Domino” is another favorite with its inherent drama that hints of the magnificent Stars at their best.  The ballad, “The Line” sung by Ruth Radelet formerly of another long-time Portland stalwart, Chromatics, is a touching moment of loss and heartbreak, as well as sweet moment of variety.  I love the police station free phone message that is “Joey,” which opens the album and provides the title, and the epic album closer, “Lake Shore Drive,” with its music box like piano melody crossed with a “Love in a Car”-esque high end guitar atmospherics, is dreamy and momentous. 

The entire damn album passes by too quickly.  Lucky for all of us, we can play it over and over again, which I will continue to do.

(https://anopendoor.bandcamp.com/album/canary-yellow)

Soft Kill "Magic Garden"

Heart Under

 

It’s been eons since I’ve written one of these album recommendation things, so please bear with me.  I first came to learn about Just Mustard while reading an interview late last year with a former member of 90s Irish band Whipping Boy (whose second album, Heartworm, recently a received 25^th anniversary repackage reissue and is one of my favorite albums of all-time!).  In the interview, he was tasked with naming current Irish bands that he finds worth noting.  Just Mustard caught my eye as an especially bad name, but it was the only name I remember him listing, so mission accomplished.  By the time I got around to checking them out, they were releasing singles leading up to their second LP, Heart Under, which came out at the end of May, which I’ve been listening to relentlessly ever since!

I have not investigated their earliest material yet, but plan to do so.  I am imagining that this is a musical departure and quite a sophisticated one at that.  The sound of Heart Under is one that lives in the same atmospheric universe as Joy Division’s “I Remember Nothing” crossed with the cinematic scope of Portishead.  It’s very stark and spooky and harsh.  The vocals of Katie Ball are a background haunt behind the very steady, up front beats of Shane Maguire, and the twin guitars of David Noonan and Mete Kalyon that stab and howl out strange rough metallic sounds – resembling old long dormant machines beginning to grind and whir back into motion – and a low end, provided by bassist Rob Clarke that comes in like that same massive machine’s engine Earth shaking the entire scene.

As I’ve grown older, my musical journey has seen my tastes evolve and streamline.  Though, as a young man discovering the extremes in sound, I probably swore I’d never mellow out, I find that I have always been most drawn to music that contains a catchy hook or a captivating melody.  Much like my choosing Low’s HEY WHAT LP as my favorite of 2021, Heart Under may be a contender for 2022!  I may not be done with experimentalism after all!  It’s refreshing to hear bands stretching out and this is my small way of showing appreciation.

Surprisingly, the most traditional song structures are saved for the second half of the album.  I suppose they wanted us to note right away that this is going to be a focused statement and it is!  The lyrics are very fitting for the mood.  They are pretty abstract for the most part, but seem to dabble in dissatisfaction with one’s self.  The repetitive plea from Katie Ball to “change my head” is uncomfortable and identifiable, as is the wonderful “Mirrors,” my favorite track, that covers that feeling many of us encounter as we age of not recognizing what we see looking back at us.  It can also happen to those of us, who don’t particularly like who we are. 

Many smart people have told me that Just Mustard’s sound reminds them of 90s UK band Cranes.    I can hear it, I was often fascinated by their music, but I never particularly liked Alison Shaw’s baby vocals – found them a distraction.  Perhaps I’ve changed, though I can hear similarities with Ball’s vocals, hers remind me more of The Sundays’ Harriet Wheeler.  At any rate, I fear I may be giving off a vibe that this is a difficult album, but it’s not!   It does challenge the listener a bit, but if you buy in, it is a fascinating and rewarding album that continues to please over repeated listens. 

(https://justmustard.bandcamp.com/album/heart-under)

Just Mustard "Still"

Let Our Hoax Eclipse

Drakes Hotel “Let Our Hoax Eclipse” (DH Music)

From the opening tape hiss, programmed drums, and deep throbbing bassline, this new Drakes Hotel album feels classic – like a lost classic post-punk album from the likes of For Against or Comsat Angels, but no, it’s pretty recent.  The fifth Drakes Hotel album was released in November of last year – two years after their amazing Love’s Not Lazy EP – but I am just getting around to writing about it now, because of losing three months of music enjoyment due to health issues.  What a welcome collection of music this is top return to!  This collection is tight, urgent and inspired and their best work since 2007’s Tell Me Everything.

Have you ever left a concert – all energized and amped – to an unknown album being played as exit music on the big speakers with too much bass and wondered to yourself if it may be the best thing you’ve ever heard?  This could be that album.  The first four songs are sheer brilliance lyrically and musically, but it’s not until the album’s middle point, where things slow down a little and we are treated to “Scuffed Hips” and its chorus beginning with a soaring “In that space between us” that the narcotic appeal truly sinks its teeth.  Amelia Drake’s spectacular and otherworldly vocals are as haunting as the dark lyrics, while Chris Y’s guitars are as complex, layered and strikingly catchy as ever.  This is a cohesive and timeless collection high-lighted by the Kitchens of Distinction reminiscent “Nothing of Comfort,” which is utterly beautiful.

I am so thankful that under heard artists such as this Midwestern couple continue to make such inspiring and exciting music.  Now let’s reward them for their efforts with a much larger audience.

(http://www.drakeshotel.band/)

Drakes Hotel "Nothing of Comfort"

All I Remember is Waiting

The Heart Wants

All I Remember is Waiting

(Junefourth)

It was maybe a little over a week ago when I felt like giving up this act I act of writing about music releases that have me currently inspired and excited.  The entire point of writing these things is to help expose musicians to a wider audience.  Of course, silly me, I forgot to go out and find an audience.  However, after either receiving news of upcoming albums by favorite artists, learning about some intriguing new artists, and then picking up a few new items last week, I decided that I just don’t care.  I’m going to share my thoughts anyway and hope to connect at least one person to a band somewhere along the line.  Good music gets me every time.  I cannot shut up.  Amongst the new items, the most immediate release comes from The Heart Wants, because this collection is being released as a digital download only.  So much of the music I buy on vinyl or CD is via mail order, so I often have a lag time between release date and actual arrival.  It’s also immediate in sound and has been on repeat around here for the entirety of the last week.

The debut album from The Heart Wants is actually a solo outing by Chris Y from Omaha’s Drakes Hotel.  If you are one of the only ones out there who have read any of my rough, unschooled music writing over the last several years, you will know that I am a big proponent of this fantastic duo (see references galore here).  Chris Y is the multi-instrumentalist / sound guy from that group, who very occasionally takes over lead vocals, but now we get the opportunity to hear more and not surprisingly, this is really enjoyable.

All I Remember is Waiting is not a far cry from Drakes Hotel, so if you’re already familiar and a fan, this is a must.  What may be the most startling is the sheer pure pop that we are introduced to from the get go.  The opening song, “Astronomical” has the familiar Drakes drum machine and the sparkling meshing of guitars and keyboards, but Chris Y eschews some of the veneer of mystery and intrigue and goes straight for the catchy direct hook and a chorus that is wordy, but still gets lodged into repeat mode into the consciousness.  And don’t get me started on that upwards bound guitar line and the chiming bridge.  This rivals the best pop nuggets of Ian Broudie’s sometimes brilliant Lightning Seeds 25 some odd years ago.  The similar sounding ‘Tales Like Factories” again provides busy breathy harmonies during each verse, before opening up into a direct hit chorus (which features an Amy Drake appearance on backing vocals).  I’ve never so happily sung “your heart dies” to myself so much.  Another three minute upbeat pop single comes along with “Evil Friends,” which closes with a majestic orchestral style keyboard flourish that for some reason reminds me of the beautiful instrumental second half of New Order’s goofy “Every Little Counts” (Brotherhood 1986).

The amazing music and lyrical imagery that help make Drakes Hotel so impressive continues unabated throughout All I Remember is Waiting.  “Leave the Scene” is a mid tempo exploration and reflection about ridding oneself of life’s regrets, mistakes and stumbles.  The clever chorus of “leave the scene on the cutting room floor” is a nice idea, but then we begin to realize that song is really a plea to an unrequited love and the palpable sense of loss and impending heartbreak makes the idea of getting rid of certain “scenes” more urgent.  “Currents in Shade” a dark sounding slow burning song that introduces some striking piano into the musical mix and evokes the darkness of a Joy Division song.  Elsewhere, the piano returns prominently on the album’s dramatic centerpiece, “Stay Home.”  The “Procession”-style keyboard wash of “Stay Home” augments the heavy crashing of piano chords (reminds me of the piano on The Hurting – era Tears for Fears - think “Ideas of Opiates”), but instead of feeling the menace of the oncoming storm, this song provides warmth and comfort, especially when the guitars and drums kick in.

The album closes with two of my favorite songs.  “Amelia” is a combination love song and plea for access into the thoughts and mind of his object of affection.  The dramatic chorus is an alarming juxtaposition to the gliding effortless sounding flow of each verse.  Meanwhile, the perfect set closing “Light is Low’ provides a solemn and resigned farewell.  It leaves the listener satisfied, but filled with lingering thoughts and questions.

Again, if you’re already a fan of Drakes Hotel, this will be right up your alley.  If you’re not, well, you should be.  Word has it that a new Drakes Hotel album is on the horizon, so Chris Y’s foray into creating The Heart Wants album only gives us all a chance to hear more of this incredible music!  Couldn’t ask for more.

(theheartwants.bandcamp.com/releases  or cdbaby.com/cd/theheartwants)

The Heart Wants "Leave the Scene"