22 search results for "accents"

I’ve been behind Accents for their last two albums; their genre-ignoring folk/indie/rock/pop-punk sound leans heavily on the strength of great melodies and impeccable arrangements, despite the disparate genre commitments of their songs. The five-song Small Tales continues their gleeful frolic through genre expectations. Opener “Down Down Down” is an upbeat folk strummer with horns, jubilant harmonies, and way more sunshine than I expect on a gloomy Monday morning. They follow it up with “For Now,” an ominous, heavy piece that calls to mind Deep Elm labelmates Athletics in its blurring of the modern rock/post-rock divide. Somehow, the two fit next to each other nicely.

While “Down Down Down” is the melodic highlight of the EP, “Settle Down Instead” is the lyrical centerpiece. With a chipper-yet-wistful acoustic ditty reminiscent of the Weepies, the band tells the story of the inevitable fade of friends and interests to time. It propelled me to look up some friends I haven’t heard from in a decade on the Internet, and then I went down a rabbit hole for a while. In other words, it’s a moving tune in more than one way. Two more nice songs fill out the EP, which really feels more like a teaser for something to come than a full meal from Accents (particularly because their two full-lengths are so long and yet so strong). If you’re looking for something short and sweet and fun for your day, check out Accents’ Small Tales.

1. “C’mon Armageddon” – Fantastic Cat. This is a perfect alt-country barnburner that evokes the sounds and lyrics of Bob Dylan, Josh Ritter, Langhorne Slim and many more. Also, the jokes in the credits are specifically for anyone who has ever been in a band; I couldn’t stop laughing about the jokes for a half-hour. (You have to watch the whole video to get the jokes, though.) Highly recommended.

2. “All of the Women” – Allison Russell. This politically timely song from Canadian songwriter Russell’s late May 2021 release Outside Child screams in its banjo-driven roots vibe. Subtle, angry brilliance oozes from Russell’s vocals. Highly recommended. —Lisa Whealy

3. “Jenny and James” – Wes Collins. This is storytelling folk in pure form: Collins’ smooth vocal delivery spins a tale of people trying so hard. The arrangement is just about as picture-perfect as it can get, too. Highly recommended.

4. “Sirena”  – Lisa Morales. Morales celebrates her cultural heritage in this reverie, an homage to the sirens of the night. Braving the dance of love, Morales shines, letting her nimble vocal style fly. She weaves a stunning contrast to the intricate Spanish guitar work that is the foundation of her EP El Amor No Es Cobarde. —Lisa Whealy

5. “While We’re Here” – M. Lockwood Porter. Alt-country songwriter Porter returns with an earnest assessment of personal and professional meaning, in light of his father’s death. The heartbreakingly honest vocal delivery fits wonderfully atop the restrained and lovely arrangement.

6. “Dog Stay Down” – Opus Kink. Opus Kink are at their unhinged best here, throwing down a near-chaotic mix of folk-pop, funk, punk, Nick Cave, Gogol Bordello, and … wrestling. You’ve not heard anything like Opus Kink before.

7. “Flow Clasico” – Ankris. Columbian duo Ankris create the mood of true love and its dance of misplaced passions. Despite its light musicality, nuanced production choices drive the narrative here: Hot and cold, burning with spoken word desire and a Latin beat. Haven’t we all watched that special someone slip out of our lives, cold as ice? —Lisa Whealy

8. “Humble Heroes” –  Demon and Lion. Demon and Lion might be known only as the Las Vegas act that sings in English, Italian, Spanish, French, and Portuguese. But this original song’s beauty, beyond its message, is the vocal tone that results from the blending of accents. —Lisa Whealy

9. “CHEERS” – Jordy Benattar. I love a good protest song, and this low-key acoustic-pop tune really is one (albeit an unusual one). Benattar rails against Gen Z / late Millenial ennui, taking the state of normal life to task in this surprisingly fresh and subtle tune.

10. “I Want More”  – KALEO. KALEO might have earned rock supergroup status, but they did so by ignoring conventions. Instead they sing folk songs in their native language and perform in Iceland’s Skálholt Cathedral, one of its most holy and historic places: the center of ecclesiastic power for nearly 700 years. They chose to film a stripped orchestral performance with JJ Julius Son solo.This video’s magnificence is the strings, that include violins (Sigrún Harðardóttir, Ásta Kristín Pjetursdóttir, Guðbjartur Hákonarson, Chrissie Guðmundsdóttir), violas (Karl James Pestka and Þórunn Harðardóttir) and cellos (Unnur Jónsdóttir, Hrafnhildur Marta Guðmundsdóttir, and Júlía Mogensen). —Lisa Whealy

11. “Hangover Game” – MJ Lenderman. Lenderman throws the listener right into the sordid details of an athlete’s life (and death?), set to a scuzzy indie/garage rock shuffle. Hits the spot right between Pavement and the Mountain Goats.

I was in high school from 2002-2006, so one could make some educated guesses at what records defined those seminal years for me. (The Postal Service: Check. Transatlanticism: check. Deja Entendu by Brand New: check.) But Deep Elm: Too Young to Die stuck with me even more than those. The anti-suicide effort / sampler combo was my first introduction to the diverse (and often raucous) emo of Deep Elm Records. Those almost-all-now-obscure bands (Settlefish! The White Octave! Pop Unknown!) contributed strongly to altering my life trajectory from “whatever it was before” to “independent music.” I owe a lot to Deep Elm.

The Cast Before the Break showed up on Deep Elm in 2011, just after Independent Clauses switched its focus from punk/emo/hardcore to folk/indie-pop/indie-rock, so I didn’t catch them the first time. But wow, I am here for them the second time. Where We Are Now is a tour de force of post-00s emo; a record that capitalizes on the virtues of an iconic sound without being defined by them.

Led by the near-mythical three-guitar attack that many emo bands aspired to, Where We Are Now filters emo tendencies through a variety of concepts. The raw, pounding fury is there, such as on the Before Braille-esque charge of “Minutemen” and the howling “Seaward.” But beyond that, acoustic bits foreshadow lead singer TJ Foster’s later Deep Elm band Accents (…also “Seaward,” actually!). The 7-minute “Friends of Mine” features a Jimmy Eat World-esque late-song slow section amid a post-rock song structure. The Appleseed Cast would have been happy to write the patterned/mathy riffs and rhythms of “From a Pedestal.”

All of these impulses come together on standout “Slice of Life.” The song starts off as a delicate ballad, then builds from there into an atypical barn-burner by adding layer on top of layer of guitars and bass. Foster’s falsetto rides the waves of sound beautifully, then nails the landing with the evocative repeated phrase “waiting for your light to show.” Right at its peak, it crashes, closing with a beautiful thumb-piano/kalimba outro. It’s everything they wanted to achieve in the record, compressed into 3:55.

While not as triumphant in tone, closer “Hindsight” is a fitting cap on a record that took 10 years to complete. The piece rolls through acoustic-driven sections and pounding rock sections, never letting the listener’s attention drop. Kicked off by a truly rousing shout, the last 1:30 is a masterpiece of emo songwriting, regardless of era. The lyrics are fittingly expansive and pensive: “I thought I knew it all / who really does?” This is the sort of piece that goes beyond the titles and stereotypes of genres to be an outstanding song, regardless of your priors.

Where We Are Now is a big, ambitious, successful record. The quintet’s songwriting is top-notch, the performances are evocative, and the collection works together as a whole excellently. If you’ve ever been a fan of Deep Elm, from Red Animal War to Athletics to Montear, you need to check this record out. It’s a time machine that goes into the past and into the future. Where We Are Now is out on Mint 400 Records, another label close to my (and IC’s) heart.

Liminal – Safir Nou. Lisa and I have really enjoyed music from Italy this year, and Safir Nou provides another entry in that book. This quintet, led by composer Antonio Firinu, plays elegant and complex instrumental music that draws on post-rock, movie scores, Mediterranean sounds, and more. The results are engaging and adventurous: opener “Port X” begins as a strings-led elegy in with a Middle Eastern flair until a sudden, groove-heavy drum/bass/static breakdown interrupts the space. (“Escape” pulls the same trick, just as effectively.)

“Sahel” merges traditional jazz sounds with Middle Eastern drama. Standout “Arenas” evokes Devotchka with the subtle, rousing marriage of indie-pop melodies and aesthetics (chipper hand-claps!) with more traditional arrangements. Each of the 12 pieces here has different vibes and different charms. Those with a penchant for interesting instrumental work should definitely check out Liminal. Highly recommended.

—

The Ivory in the Narrows paints Matt Baumann‘s (aka Wolfcryer) troubadour folk over a big canvas of 12 songs. Baumann’s rough-edged tenor is the guiding light through these songs, as his skillful use of tone  and deft line delivery sell the lyrics admirably. “Little Badlands” is shows off both these skills, as he pulls the listener in with well-placed accents in and at the end of phrases. Follow-up “St. Anthony” has a powerful chorus that makes the most of Baumann’s voice, as the emotion just drips out of the words. I particularly love how he slings out the phrase “Sa-int ANNNNN-thon-eeeee.”

Topically and sonically, the album is a road-warrior logbook. Baumann’s lyrics ponder, take place on, and evoke the life of the road, from opener “Heading Out” to closer “The Last Stop.” (“Oncoming Train” is technically life on the rails, but still.) Baumann is at his best when he’s positioned on the road sonically as well: the iconic mostly-clean lead electric guitar tone and harmonica fit like a glove with his voice and lyrics. (Things get crunchy on “The Last Stop” to great effect, but Jeremy Smart’s work is mostly free of heavy distortion.) “Lonesome Ladders” is a tribute in Baumann’s style to the grandaddy of all troubadours: The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan. If you’re looking for a solid folk record, inquire within.

1. “All Will Be Well” – Blue Water Highway. I’m entranced by this song because I myself wrote a song that had Julian of Norwich’s famous words as the chorus. It is a statement of great, almost untenably great, hope: all will be well. As America goes through another round of turmoil on account of police killing another innocent person of color, it is important to cling to this great hope: there is a peace coming. For Julian (and I), it is a religious, eschatological hope in its totality; in its partial, unfinished, earthly form, it is a hope that we can keep making progress toward the justice and equality that were promised for all but that have not yet arrived for all. Whether or not Blue Water Highways holds to the eschatological version, the reverence that this track holds within it point longingly toward better while sitting in the midst of evil. The track itself is a beautiful fusion of highway-weathered folk-rock, Springsteen-ian anthem, and subtle synthesizer touches. It’s layered and lovely, bearing the weight of hope lightly. Highly recommended.

2. “Birds and Daisies” – Racoon Racoon. Not quite sure why the name Racoon Racoon isn’t on everyone’s lips yet, as their continued run of brilliant singles is a marvel to behold. Dancing between acoustic folk, formal pop, and indie-pop, the delightful vocal melodies, delicate vocal tone, and excellent song development all come together into yet another fantastic track. Seriously: if you like any sort of guitar-based pop music at all, you need to listen to Racoon Racoon.

3. “Missing Piece” – Marika Takeuchi. This piano-led composition starts off delicate with careful piano and subtle strings, then swells to a big conclusion with electronics, a swooping string soloist, and a dense arrangement. It’s a lovely, melancholy piece that yet looks toward hope.

4. “Spiralling (Max Cooper remix)” – Alex Banks. More than seven minutes of swirling, arpeggiator-heavy techno goodness. The chronological scope is met by a sense of cinematic scope, as the remix pulls back on the freight-train techno cut this could have been, minimizing (but not eliminating) the snare and the kick in favor of texture and body.

5. “Alpha Orionis” – Juffbass. Juffbass took his bass-and-drums post-rock tune “Mountain Highs, Salty Eyes” from his most recent release and collaborated with Marton Gyorog to add electric guitar and synths to it. The result is a fuller, more spacey version of the tune that has enough of its own direction with the new additions to have a new title to the song.

6. “Crow” – Sam Carand. Organ drone morphs into a beat-heavy, piano-led instrumental track that evokes the jazz / post-rock of GoGoPenguin. It’s got groove and punch.

7. “Don’t Go” – GoGoPenguin. Speaking of GoGoPenguin, they’re still spinning singles out into the world, and they’re all still amazing. This one puts the spotlight on the bassist, giving him full room to experiment and deliver melodies over an ostinato piano line on prepared piano. As a bassist, this is just the best. GoGoPenguin continue to push the bounds of post-rock and jazz in delightful and luminous ways.

8. “Orbital” – Crowd Company (feat. Ryan Zoidis & Eric Bloom). This funk cut is a punchy, confident strut that draws in old-school spy vibes, big band jazz bravado, and moody/spacey sections. It conveys the mystery and allure of space very well. Also it’s funky as all get-out.

9. “The Romance” – Winterwood. Slowcore electric guitar paints a wind-scraped landscape, while a solo violin makes its way carefully but gracefully across that barren earth. Gentle percussion provides accents to the work. It’s like if Balmorhea got very, very sad.

10. “Finish It” – Align in Time. This is a post-rock tune with more than a little punk in its blood, from the chord-mashing guitar intro to the straightforward drums to the punk rock bass rhythms. It stops and suddenly opens up into sections of expansive post-rock to counterbalance the punk ideals, but this one’s for the people who like the “rock” part of post-rock.

11. “Amber Eyes” – Juan Torregoza. A lightly psychedelic instrumental post-rock (post-indie-pop?) track that puts a lot of space between each of the instruments, giving a woozy, expansive feel to the work.

If you stick around in the music reviewing game long enough, you get to see whole long swaths of people’s careers. I’ve been covering TJ Foster’s work with Accents and then Darling Valley since 2012, and Ryan Hutchens’ work as Cancellieri since 2014. Both of the songwriters have new releases out under their own names. Both of the albums are highly retrospective releases, giving a glimpse into what was happening personally over the last few years that I’ve known them professionally.

—

TJ Foster‘s First Person, Volume One contains tracks like “An Ode to My Twenties” (self-explanatory) and “The Basement,” which details his changing relationship throughout his life to a sanctum of sorts. Both of these songs touch on his parents’ divorce, which is one of many personal events that he’s sorting out in this record.

Given that content, the tone of the record is very sad: there’s a romantic nobility in facing sadness with dignity, and Foster is trying to walk that path. Standout opener “I Don’t Know” sets the tone that pervades almost every track, as Foster sets gloriously-executed multi-tracked vocal harmony over a solemn fingerpicked guitar melody. The song closes with as good a thesis statement as you can get for a sort-through-the-past album: “Am I a sucker for sadness, or is it one for me? / Am I losing my grip on some reality? / I don’t know / I don’t know.” It’s an excellent song.

Elsewhere “Brokenfine” adds solid piano, allowing for even more gravitas. “An Ode to My Twenties” is an upbeat major-key folk tune complete with harmonica–it’s one of the few moments of sunshine sonically, even if the lyrics are still (mostly) in line with the rest of the record. “What If” is a slightly dreamy take on folk, while “57” is a quiet tune built off another lovely finger-picking-and-vocals core. First Person, Volume One is a specific, personal record that could hit someone doing a re-evaluation of their 20s square in the numbers.

—

Ryan Hutchens‘ The Last Ten Years is retrospective in several ways; the record has a lyrical cast looking back on the last decade, while also re-recording some tunes previously released as Cancellieri. For someone who’s been following his work for a while, it’s nice to hear some songs that are like old friends (“Fortunate Peace” in particular).

The sonic vibe is not overtly sad–opener “Green My Eyes” has a gently adventurous arrangement that sounds like a Freelance Whales track, what with the complex patterning of banjo and guitar melodies laid against subtle drone-like element (in this case piano and distant guitar chords). It’s a warm, inviting track, welcoming you into the record. Hutchens loves calm, peaceful arrangements, and even this complex one has an overall feeling of relaxation.

Right after that track comes the title track of the record, which sets a tone lyrically–there’s a sense of loss and even bitterness in these tracks. The loss is especially raw in “The Trouble With You”. There’s some unrequited love spread throughout the record, some re-evaluation of a working-musician’s career trajectory (“The Landing”), and some consideration of loneliness and death (“Poor Old Man,” “The Landing” again).

But even “The Landing,” the lyrical core of the very sad lyrical set, is a major key folk shuffle with lazy pedal steel evoking Hawaiian vibes. If you’re the sort that listens to the vibe instead of the lyrics, this record will have a completely different feel for you than if you’re one who scrutinizes the words. Yet the dichotomy isn’t as terribly jarring as it sounds on paper, because Hutchens’ voice contains all manner of emotions throughout the tunes–his vocal performances hold the two pieces of the record together. If you’re into peaceful singer/songwriter records with strong arrangements and/or difficult lyrics, you’ll be into The Last Ten Years. 

Young Mister’s latest EP, Soft Rock, gives its listener an immediate sense of being rooted in wisdom and nature. The unassuming acoustic instrumentation serves to foster a minimalist sense of letting what is not necessary to life simply fade away. Layered atop the instrumentation, Steven Fiore’s crisp, Ben Gibbard-like vocals allow the lyrics to come to the forefront of the EP, further solidifying its message of simplicity.

“Whispering River” starts the release off beautifully. The slowly strumming guitars calm the listener in preparation for the rest of the relaxing EP. I love the repeated lyric: “I want to build us a home, right on this mountain / Give me an ax and I’ll start collecting the wood,” because it describes something that, to me, is very dreamlike. From that one lyric, I can picture a whole surreal lifestyle, where life is built right off the land with flourishing vegetable gardens and maybe even thriving honey bees. I don’t know about you, but that life sounds fantastic to me. When giving the track a further listen, it seems like the life that is laid out in those lyrics is also the speaker’s dream and not yet his reality. The final lyric– “O Whispering river calling me down, I woke up on the other side”– transitions to the next track wonderfully, as nature awakens us all to reality.

“Imaginary Lines”, although still acoustic, has pepped up its step a bit with its slightly quicker pace. Yet, the lyrics maintain a wise groundedness, as Fiore gifts us with nuggets like “You can’t go back / so keep on straight ahead / All the weight that you stack / inside of remember when’s”. The nature-infused lyrics then culminate to the track’s climax: “Let it go man, you’re just holding on,” repeated three times and then paired with “to something that’s long gone”. This track is a perfect example of the minimalistic sound lending itself to reinforce the minimalist message of letting go of the things we hold too closely in life.  

The third track, “Infinite Space,” adjusts its focus from earth to, as the title hints, space. Not only the lyrics, but the whole sound of the track feels more spacey than the other songs; from the warbly interlude mid-track to the ethereal female vocals that echo the hook “somewhere out there in the infinite space”. This first single off the album does not disappoint.

“On the Inside” switches out the guitars for a heavier piano with accents of strings, like the cello and violin. I love that Fiore chose to use the piano as this love-song’s anchor. I say love-song, but there is nothing mushy or gushy about this track. Instead, it’s full of intelligent metaphors, playing off an inside / outside dynamic. The first metaphor engages when Fiore sings “you were a capsule buried in the snow / I found you in the springtime / I want to open it up, I want to know / Let’s see what’s on the inside.” That metaphor then continues with the later lyric: “I can be your summer / you can be my winter / take me to your hidden room.” And everyone’s heart just melted. The next metaphor begins by introducing a “house built with a purpose” (perhaps from the first song) and he continues– “I wanna open up all the doors and see what’s on the outside.” The final metaphor returns to the focus of love, “we are an envelope with a letter written from another time / I wanna hold it up to the sun and see what’s on the inside.”

The final track, “Take Everything” really steps out of the typical instrumentation of the EP, as it opens up with percussive elements and maintains a fuller-sounding instrumentation throughout. One of the most impressive aspects of the EP is how perfectly titled all of the tracks are. Each two-to-three word title echoes the main lyric of each of the songs. So for the final track, “Take Everything” is from the chorus: “We turn to / the clouds for answers that we couldn’t find / they shout back / take everything that you can get and get out of here alive”. It makes so much sense to me that the track that follows up “On the Inside” is one that personifies “the clouds” as the one with the wisdom. Therefore, the most inwardly focused song is quickly followed up by one that focuses on nature truly having the answers.

Young Mister’s EP starts and ends with nature. Nature (“the Whispering River”) is what awoke our speaker in the first track. As we come to the EP’s end, nature (“the clouds”) provides the answers that we can’t find from ourselves, our things, and our loved ones. I get the sense from this album as a whole that true wisdom is knowing that nature is where we find life’s answers, not ourselves. So lounge back, put your feet up, and gain a little wisdom from Young Mister’s Soft Rock.–Krisann Janowitz