An adorable-as-expected take on one of the best songs from Dream Diary’s fine twee-pop debut. Birthdays!

Previously: Review: Dream Diary – You Are the Beat

My favorite L.A. garage band celebrates its single release tonight at the Silverlake Lounge, as sponsored by Rawkblog. They will be loud and charming. There’s more of the latter in this interview/performance video they did with BestNewBands.com (did Pitchfork not trademark that yet?), in which Danny Bobbe does his unintentional best Conor Oberst impression during “Blood Orange.” Also, hey, Ravens & Chimes will join them for their first L.A. date in like three years! Sell your copy of The Suburbs back to Origami and come give them beer money.

Photo by Justin McDougal via Flickr

* Over on Facebook, the DRA posted a handful of pictures of his recent U.K. tour with pretty heartwarming commentary.

* That tour saw the release of a 7″, with new, Mandy Moore-featuring track “Empty Room.” It’s the first studio recording the couple has teamed up on, with Mrs. DRA joining an illustrious history of Adams harmonizers that range from Emmylou Harris to Rachel Yamagata to Norah Jones. Adams’ Class Mythology EP was released earlier this year for Record Store Day; we’re waiting on a collection of new, [correction: not Ethan] Glyn Johns-produced recordings, with no word in a while on the status of the Blackhole archival release (or the Neil Young-esque box set with Suicide Handbook, etc.). Given that Adams has been taking his self-released projects one step at a time, I’m guessing we can cross off seeing the unreleased stuff from our 2011 calendars.

* In May, he made a pair of Facebook comments that seem notable:

Ryan Adams ‎@Frank… the Cardinals are no more. Our bass player died after I stopped touring. It’s not going to happen again. You will always have the records and live boots. Thanks for listening.

(News broke of bassist Chris Feinstein’s untimely death in December 2009.)

The second: in the same thread, he noted that there is no Whiskeytown reunion in the works. So, solo Ryan, for the moment.

* Not an Adams fan yet? I wrote a (very) quick guide to his catalog on Tumblr.

The bittersweet feeling of hearing a new song by your favorite, deceased songwriter is almost too heavy to bear. So take a load off before sitting down to Elliott Smith’s “The Real Estate,” a previously unreleased, unknown rough mix of a track that will appear in a more finalized form on charity release Live From Nowhere Near You Two. The recording may date back to Smith’s Heatmiser era — to these ears, it’s not far from the keyboard-embracing sound he shot for on Mic City Sons or his own XO, though with its show-off-y (and totally great!) guitar solo, it’s clear why it never made it to a previous release. The stream and the full story, from Live creator Kevin Moyer is over on Pitchfork; you can buy the mammoth compilation from Greyday Records to benefit Outside In.

Get more Smith, including my 22-track Proper Introduction compilation, on the Rawkblog Elliott Smith archives page.

There’s a lot to chew on in Chelsea Wolfe’s reasonably revelatory Apokalypsis, so we’ll start with the meat. “Mer” finds the L.A. goth (that strangest of oxymorons) singing from a distance, doubled and turned ghostly by filters; she’s joined by electric guitars that uncoil like vipers and gymnastic percussion. “How can you leave me so?” she begs before an instrumental break lets the listener consider. It’s a song I won’t be leaving any time soon.

Chelsea Wolfe – “Mer”: mp3

(Ἀποκάλυψις – really — is due Aug. 23 on Pendu Sound Recordings.)

Warpaint’s latest video dives right into the aquatic fascination that’s so central to The Fool, which remains one of last year’s best records (and more rewarding than all but a handful of ’11 collections, too).

A very fine performance of the title track of a very fine record. Can this song be the next “1234″ already? [via Twentyfourbit]

Editor’s note: In the past, I’ve dubbed album reviews “First Look,” even when they’re weeks late. Due to that inherent silliness, they’ll now be dubbed “Review.”

In the last decade or so, a handful of great (alt-)country voices have made themselves known. Neko Case, Ryan Adams, the terrifically underrated Sally Ellyson of Hem–surely there are more, but these pipes, at least, are undeniable. Joining their ranks is Jill Andrews, formerly of the likewise underrated, now defunct Everybodyfields. On her debut album, The Mirror, Andrews exults in an unwavering register that moves from a sturdy medium end to breathless highs. A Tennessee native, a hint of twang bends her otherwise unfrilled performances; in a drawn-out note or a sudden reveal of emotion, she communicates as much with subtle detail as a diva would with a full chorus of melisma. Her singing, both utterly controlled and thoroughly sincere, is best described as tasteful, a description worth extending to the album as a whole.

The Mirror‘s music is less indebted to the current Americana scene or the Everybodyfield’s alt-country roots than the piano-and-guitar session-pop of Carole King or Todd Rundgren. Upbeat songs such as the title track or “Another Man” are pure ’70s revival — they could’ve been outtakes from unlikely contemporary Mandy Moore’s surprisingly successful Amanda Leigh, while the more patient “Wake Up Nico” is the sort of gravitas-bearing adult-contemporary ballad Moore’s husband has effectively trafficked in since Gold. It’s uncomplicated music and quite lovely for it, the arrangements sized to best flatter their singer and recorded with a careful balance of studio crispness and bedroom warmth.

Andrews’ lyrics are plain and honest sometimes to a fault. “You” closes with a repetition of the line “You are so very special to me,” that makes me long for a deeper thought even during the subsequent guitar fireworks, but elsewhere, the simplicity is more effective: “You can be so sad / or you can be so happy, I know you can,” hits right in the gut on “Blue Skies,” the set’s most fully realized effort. “Wake Up Nico,” an opposite lullaby penned for her son, addresses the vampiric specter of divorce without letting it enter the room: “You know, Nico, your dad and I really love you.”

It’s the sort of full-hearted sentiment that may leave some retching and reaching for their Sex Pistols LPs, but there’s never a flash of doubt to the singer’s commitment to the material — or to her ability to deliver it. Not that there should be. It works in large part by weighing unfettered pronouncements against musical restraint, expressing impassioned sincerity (and the occasional wink) without devolving into melodrama. Case and Adams may have a head start, but they should keep an eye on the rearview: The Mirror is a fine fresh start to a career that will soar as high as Andrews’ lungs let her.

(The Mirror is out now)