Before releasing its long-awaited debut album, Memoryhouse will re-release The Years EP, complete with two new songs and re-recorded takes on the magical four that comprised the No. 2 EP of 2010. Not much reason to mess with perfection, but the band’s studio savvy continues to be something to reckon with: with Denise Nouvion’s voice floating between rippling pianos and ocean-buried drums, new track “Modern, Normal” creates a feeling of weightlessness so vivid you’d have buy a ticket for Richard Branson’s space plane — or drown — to match it.
Per attendee Mel, “It was hot, it was crowded, it smelled like beer and cigarettes and a little pot. The lights sometimes changed colors in alarming ways. The dining room was like a sardine can. In other words, it was magical and I wouldn’t change a minute of it.”
It’s not that Cardinology and Easy Tiger found Ryan Adams going through the motions, exactly. Both records were moderately surprising commercial successes, drawing on the embattled musician’s long career for songs propulsive and charming. At times, such as “Oh My God, Whatever, Etc.,” they found him at his sensitive best; at others, there’s “Let Us Down Easy” and “Go Easy,” which do just that. Adams himself referred to “Easy Tiger” as a “mellow classic,” but if there was any lingering worry that his recent catalog and long musical layoff has left him fat and happy in a Los Feliz love-nest, you’re going to want to listen to this show. He makes his way through a setlist from his Whiskeytown days to Gold and Love Is Hell through Cardinology, all delivered from the edge of a cliff. A metaphorical cliff. It is the best Adams concert recording I’ve ever heard, which bodes well for his upcoming Glyn Johns-produced full-length. Don’t call it a comeback? (Seriously, don’t.)
Update: In deference to Ryan’s new taping policy (which is: no more taping), I’ve taken this down. The videos are on YouTube.
As part of their upcoming From a Basement King of Limbs session, the best band in the world have debuted a new live track, “Staircase.” Limbs naysayers may find more to hold onto with this one, thanks to Blade Runner synths and Phil Selway, Nigel Godrich and Portishead’s Clive Deamer’s miraculous trio drumming. Let’s get this one more views than “Friday,” O.K.?
2011 favorites/Waynestock obliterators Little Scream took to the harsh light of day for a session with Southern Souls, Canada’s best answer to the Take-Away Shows. I assume you’ve already clicked “play.”
I’m well-documented as a Bon Iver hater, so I’ll keep this brief: I gave this record an honest listen, whatever that means, and probably would’ve ignored it entirely if not for the Pitchfork 9.5. If Mark Richardson honestly thinks this album is nearly a point better than Kaputt, I suppose I can give it a few minutes of my life.
And here’s the thing: this is a pretty good record! Opening track “Perth” is a monolith of a song, all bone-chilling guitars and militant drums, but when the vocals came in, I shuddered involuntarily and remembered I was listening to Bon Iver. The arrangements and production are the stars here, or at least won’t set your teeth on edge. Throughout, Justin Vernon choses blanket-warm guitar tones and uses them in the service of thoughtful arpeggios and chord changes. The drums are even better, avoiding standard-issue rock beats in favor of alternately brisk pattering or heavy grooves; the horns on “Minnesota, WI” and “Towers” are more Dave Matthews Band than Clarence Clemons, which I hope Colin Stetson takes as a compliment. The interplay of sax and strings on songs such as “Michicant” and “Towers” remind me of the forgotten, five-star Sea Snakes’ Clear as Day, the Darkest Tools, which is damn near the highest compliment I know how to pay. ”Holocene” is almost perfect: the way the Insignificance-style drum fills arrive discretely under the guitar riff as it enters the second verse? Stunning. Read the rest of this entry »
I suppose you could call Bill Callahan a traditionalist: at last night’s Troubadour show, he commanded the stage draped in a seersucker suit, a harmonica around his neck and a nylon-string guitar resting like a baby in his hands. Perhaps he meant homage to Wolfe, Dylan and Segovia. But as he demonstrated over a 90+ minute set, Bill Callahan is very much himself.
Over the years, Callahan has pruned away the wild tangles and unwanted thorns of his music to achieve, over a series of transcendent post-Smog solo records, folk songs at once dryly deliberate and wet with emotion. During songs such as “Riding for the Feeling” and “Jim Cain,” the pragmatism of his granite rhythms dueled against the improvisatory hopefulness of his two-man band, a lead guitarist and drummer who were as much voices in the performance as Callahan’s resolute baritone. On “America!” and elsewhere, they grew briefly louder before turning back, like a summer storm suddenly emptied out.
The band encored with songs from the Smog era, but it was clear from the trio of recent classics he mostly drew upon (A River Ain’t Too Much to Love, Sometimes I Wish We Were An Eagle, this year’s Apocalypse) that he feels he is still — or, I believe, finally — at his most vital. Riding, riding, riding for the feeling.
Per 
It’s not that Cardinology and Easy Tiger found Ryan Adams going through the motions, exactly. Both records were moderately surprising commercial successes, drawing on the embattled musician’s long career for songs propulsive and charming. At times, such as “Oh My God, Whatever, Etc.,” they found him at his sensitive best; at others, there’s “Let Us Down Easy” and “Go Easy,” which do just that. Adams himself referred to “Easy Tiger” as a “mellow classic,” but if there was any lingering worry that his recent catalog and long musical layoff has left him fat and happy in a Los Feliz love-nest, you’re going to want to listen to this show. He makes his way through a setlist from his Whiskeytown days to Gold and Love Is Hell through Cardinology, all delivered from the edge of a cliff. A metaphorical cliff. It is the best Adams concert recording I’ve ever heard, which bodes well for his upcoming Glyn Johns-produced full-length. Don’t call it a comeback? (Seriously, don’t.) 
I’m well-documented as a Bon Iver hater, so I’ll keep this brief: I gave this record an honest listen, whatever that means, and probably would’ve ignored it entirely if not for the 
