Posts Tagged ‘First Impressions’

First Impressions: Juliana Hatfield’s Weird

Posted: January 6, 2019 in 2010s, 2019, Juliana Hatfield
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It’s been a wild, whacky and – dare I say it? – weird few weeks due to the Big Move, and the weirdness will likely stretch into the next few months. There’s a lot to unpack. Among the items on our to-do list: clear the boxes from the dining room, living room and den, set up the stereos, and hang the pictures we want on the walls.

One thing that has almost made the daunting task bearable: Juliana Hatfield’s Weird album. The official release date is January 18th, but those of us who ordered one of the bundles from American Laundromat received it early – in my case, on New Year’s Eve. I haven’t had much time for critical listening, but I have listened. And listened.

In short, the set is uniquely Juliana, exploring such themes as introversion, sugar, selling out, and escapism, plus politics, atop a sonic soundscape that shimmers. She handles all the guitars, bass, keyboards and vocals, plus adds supplemental drums to four tracks accented by the ZOOM MRT-38 Micro RhythmTrak. Old partners-in-crime Freda Love Smith and Todd Philips keep the beat on the others.

The music is moody, mercurial and mesmerizing, and the melodies disarming. Maybe it’s just me, but echoes of the Buffalo Springfield’s guitar interplay and the Velvet Underground staccato rhythms waft through some songs, and even a little ONJ & ELO bubbles to the fore on the album closer, the deceptively upbeat “Do It to Music.”

Check out the lead single, “Lost Ship”:

There’s also a bonus 7-inch single available that features two songs (“On Your Feet” and “The Family Stain”) not on the album – well worth the purchase. (And for folks without a turntable, it comes with a download card, so you can still hear the songs.) The couplet that stays with me comes from the b-side: “History is like a stain/you cannot wash away.” So true.

If you haven’t already, head over to the American Laundromat site and order the album and single.

 

First Impressions: Erin O’Dowd’s Old Town

Posted: May 5, 2018 in 2010s, 2018, Erin O'Dowd
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I was driving in my car this morning, windows down, stereo up high – and Americana singer-songwriter Erin O’Dowd’s debut album, Old Town, sending my spirits soaring higher than the beautiful May morn. I won’t delve too deep into the tracks via a high-falutin’ review – I’ve heard the set exactly three times since its release yesterday, which is a few spins too short to say more than this: It’s a gem.

Erin has one of those voices, and the songs to match. At times, her vocals conjure Emmylou Harris or Nanci Griffith, though her inflections are shaded a tad darker; and a Dylan influence can be discerned on a few songs, such as the honky-tonk “One Trick Pony.” But, most of all, what you hear is her old soul shining through. 

Here’s one example: the opener, “Miss Neelye.”

And here’s another, “The Letter.”

You can sample the album in whole below, or via the Horton Records’ Bandcamp page (though it’s also available via Amazon, iTunes, etc., etc.).

First Impressions: Courtney Marie Andrews’ May Your Kindness Remain

Posted: March 17, 2018 in 2010s, 2018, Courtney Marie Andrews
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For decades, just about, I usually rolled out of bed in the predawn, gulped coffee while browsing the news (and newsfeed) or working on my website/blog, and departed for the office some two hours later, right around 7:30am. I maintained that early-to-rise routine on weekends, too – even if we were out late the night before. It was just the way of my life. These days, however? Most weekdays, I wake late, don’t turn on the computer until the night, and barely glance at my iPhone until I arrive at the office around 8:30am. So it was somewhat serendipitous that I fired up the MacBook this past Thursday morning – albeit for just 10 minutes – and discovered, by way of Facebook, that NPR’s First Listen was none other than Courtney Marie Andrews’ May Your Kindness Remain album, which is due out on March 23rd.

I streamed it during the commute that followed, and found myself – for the first time ever, I think – cursing what was an atypical easy ride. The lack of slowdowns, accidents, or debris on the highway made it appear that I’d arrive at work before the album ended. (Thankfully, my fear was for naught: a jam at the Valley Forge exit, where some 10 lanes narrow into two, caused me to pull into my company’s parking lot about five minutes after the 43-minute listen had ended.)

I played it again that evening. And again this morning – times four. Not enough listens for a proper review, but enough to share my first impressions. Which are:

Unlike Honest Life, which was – by and large – a fairly stripped-down affair, the 10 songs here are fleshed out with organ, electric guitar, and Sweet Inspirations-esque backing vocals. A gritty guitar often reverberates, sawing through songs – such as the title track or “Took You Up” – like a serrated blade through softwood lumber. (Wood houses, for those unaware, are framed with what’s known as softwood.)

Now that I think about it, however, that’s an imperfect metaphor, as the song structures are beyond solid. The guitar does no damage, in other words; rather, it acts more like an accent or umlaut, fleshing out the sound and emotions. So, shifting to a more apt analogy, the sonic stew conjure the likes of Dylan (both Bob and Thomas), Joni, Lucinda, and the Band, plus – especially on “Two Cold Nights in Buffalo” – Iris DeMent. (“Livin’ in the Wasteland of the Free” is calling out to be covered in concert, Courtney. Just sayin’.)

But, mostly, the echoes are just that – echoes. Courtney synthesizes those (real or imagined) influences into a tasty gumbo of her own.

Lyrically, she makes the universal personal and the personal universal. Whether or not she lived the experiences, “Lift the Lonely From My Heart,” “Rough Around the Edges” and “Took It Up” sound like the confessions of a battered soul. (From “Took It Up”: “Is it the journey or the destination/is this love or is this addiction/circumstances are meant to be/what does that say about you and me?”) The piano intro in “Rough Around the Edges” – which is just a stellar song – is akin to a soft wind carrying the melody of a long-ago tune, though which one I can’t yet identify. On the flip side, she sounds contented in “This House,” which – though it’s not much of a house – she considers a home.

I’ll have more on it in the coming weeks. But this much I can say now: Once the album drops next week, I’ll be playing it over and over, and over, again.

(It’s available for purchase here, by the way.)