There’s a lot of history in Rhett Miller’s The Interpreter: Live at Largo. The new set, recorded at Largo’s former Fairfax location — the best concert venue I’ve ever been to, R.I.P. — during its final days, finds the Old ’97s singer laying into covers of the Pixies, the Kinks and more, but you’ll want to skip to his impassioned take on Elliott Smith’s “Happiness.” Smith himself was a Largo regular in his early days in Los Angeles, of course: his only official live release, available with Autumn de Wilde’s wonderful book, was also recorded there.
If 2011 brings me no further musical accomplishments than seeing Ryan Adams three times, I’d say it’s been a banner year. The Rawkblog hero returned for a third Los Angeles date on Wednesday, coming to legendary producer Bob Clearmountain’s Berkeley Street Studios to play a private session for KCRW‘s Morning Becomes Eclectic. The show will air on Dec. 2, but a few highlights: the intimate space allowed him to play an even quieter show than his Largo or Hollywood Forever appearances, with his falsetto barely above a whisper on songs such as “Like Yesterday.” It’s astounding how much control Adams has over his vocals; to call him alternative country’s Mariah Carey is a clumsy analogy, but you get the point. Ever the charmer, he spent as much time joking and tuning as playing songs, managing to pull plenty of new material. (An Adams/Jeff Tweedy comedy tour would be as funny as anything at Largo. Hell, they should just do a night there.) In his interview with KCRW’s Jason Bentley, he gave an exhaustive analysis of black metal and laughingly discussed the “failure” of his mid-career: “All it took was the live shows and everything else was poop icing on the shit cake.” Not sure if they can play that on the radio.
Adams is nothing but enthusiastic: he’s a metal nerd, I imagine, because being a nerd about anything is intensely satisfying. (Unless you’re a message-board Ryan Adams nerd, in which case you probably need a vacation.) It’s felt pretty special to see his enthusiasm in safe spaces this year, and judging by the quality of his performances on Wednesday, it doesn’t get any safer than having Clearmountain on the boards. Seeing Adams play these stripped-down shows makes you focus on the details — the intricacies of the guitar picking and the emotional colors of his rising and falling voice. I went home, put on Cold Roses and heard subtleties in his performances I’d never noticed. The gulf between hearing and listening can be enormous, but when you have the chance, I encourage the latter.
Dylan Gilbert has been making records forever, or at least long enough to release a 50-track album dubbed Complete Works, So Far (2005-2010). (In blog years, he played his first show toward the close of the Paleolithic Era. He opened for T. Rex.) It’s a wonder he’s gone largely unnoticed by the blogosphere during that time, especially given his resemblance to another prolific, deeply emotive songwriter, Bright Eyes’ Conor Oberst. Gilbert’s catalog includes melodramatic chamber-rock (“Pangaea”), twangy bedroom folk (“I’ll Plant a Seed”) and straight-ahead indie rock, which is the sound of 2011 single “I Was Young.”
Its searing guitars spill over like an upturned McDonald’s coffee cup, with Gilbert’s stretching tenor matching the heat: “I thought I could know the difference between lust and love,” he bristles, his hopes burning to ash. Gilbert taught himself how to grow old; let’s hope he doesn’t turn prematurely grey before finding his audience.
Dylan Gilbert and the Over Easy Breakfast Machine – “I Was Young”:mp3
* Lambchop will follow up 2008 classic OH (Ohio) with Mr. M, due Feb. 21 on Merge. Has it really been four years? Whatever the age, the band is the rare one that keeps getting better.
* Princeton, another band in the Kisses orbit, will release Remembrances of Times To Come on February 21 on Hit City U.S.A. I’ve heard it; you’re going to want to, too.
* Jens Lekman continues to tease his fourth LP, debuting another new song, “I Don’t Know What to Do With This Information,” at Maida Vale Studios. Here the full session at Point of Everything.
I love the way Brooklyn act North Highlands use repetition. Their songs are little more than handfuls of phrases, but in singer Brenda Malvina’s hands, they become incantations, love songs as hypnosis. The minimalist wordplay forces you to focus on the details — the dynamic shifts from chorus to bridge, Malvina’s melodic turns, the subtle overdubs that layer onto this song’s final minute. It’s refreshing, as is the silly, colorful video for “Benefits,” which gets immeasurably better if you imagine Beavis and Butthead making fun of it.
It’s still unclear how much Rebecca Coleman’s departure will affect Avi Buffalo. After a near-perfect debut album, Avi’s been floating around East L.A., playing shows with rappers and uploading bizarro bedroom recordings to Soundcloud; not exactly the harbinger of a glorious LP2. Coleman, though, soldiers on: her new band, Pageants, plays the sort of bright, yelpy indie-pop Avi Buffalo did in its less guitar-heroic moments, and “Edible Rust” may be the band’s best yet. Real Estate fans will catch similar vibes from the jangling chords, but it’s Coleman’s shrill voice that shines like a lighthouse through its mellow shell. Chill if you must, but “Edible Rust” is the sound of a band catching fire.
There’s a lot of history in Rhett Miller’s The Interpreter: Live at Largo. The new set, recorded at Largo’s former Fairfax location — the best concert venue I’ve ever been to, R.I.P. — during its final days, finds the Old ’97s singer laying into covers of the Pixies, the Kinks and more, but you’ll want to skip to his impassioned take on Elliott Smith’s “Happiness.” Smith himself was a Largo regular in his early days in Los Angeles, of course: his only official live release, available with Autumn de Wilde’s wonderful book, was also recorded there. 
Dylan Gilbert has been making records forever, or at least long enough to release a 50-track album dubbed Complete Works, So Far (2005-2010). (In blog years, he played his first show toward the close of the Paleolithic Era. He opened for T. Rex.) It’s a wonder he’s gone largely unnoticed by the blogosphere during that time, especially given his resemblance to another prolific, deeply emotive songwriter, Bright Eyes’ Conor Oberst. Gilbert’s catalog includes melodramatic chamber-rock (“Pangaea”), twangy bedroom folk (“I’ll Plant a Seed”) and straight-ahead indie rock, which is the sound of 2011 single “I Was Young.”
