My Indian summer hibernation has ended......
Here are the latest and greatest new albums of my collection, thank you OINK:
The Hold Steady, Boys and Girls in America Craig Finn's latest installment in rock album as Great American Novel, succeeds in affirming the Steady's title as best red, white & blue band since E Street. Finn riffs on his themes of druggy disengagement, drunken lovers, and former Catholic schoolkid, but this time around extrapolates beyond the Twin Cities landmarks,(except for name dropping Lyndale, Nicollet, and Grain Belt beer) to include all those other kids who have never felt their boogers freeze in October. Musically, the band further embraces capital-R rock conventions, to include a wah-wah pedal, a piano and acoustic guitar ballad just shy of the disc's halfway mark, and three part harmony, but retain melodies and riffs that feel like worn softtop cases and as big as the Excel Center. Don't miss cameo's by old friends Gideon and Holly.
The Long Winters, Putting The Days To Bed Chris Walla picked the wrong band. Geographical proximity instantly puts Death Cab for Cutie, Walla's new band, in the conversation with the Long Winters, his old band, (both currently reside in Washington State) until the lyrics hit. John Roderick sounds like the guy who teased Ben Gibbard in elementary school for wearing dress shoes, then went on roadtrips while Gibbard enrolled at Lewis & Clark. The narratives Roderick weaves simply have a lived-in resonance that Gibbard would trade his sweater vest collection for. Functioning fully within the Power-Pop construct, the Winters aren't building a better mouse trap, but they are certainly phenomenal at what they do. Stories of long lost parties with girls you forgot you loved are carried by simple percussion and falsetto harmonies to sound as if that band from high scool that you always thought would make it finally did.
The Decemberists, The Crane Wife I really don't want to like Colin Melloy. But then he finally starts listening to music from the 20th century and changes my mind. When the are Decemberists are at their worst they sound like Melloy reading his English 422 paper(with every ryhme run through the Microsoft Word thesaurus), backed by the Fon Du Lac Accordian Quartet. But when they are on their game they redefine the narrative and instrumentation possibilities of indie rock, and are undeniably great. On the Crane Wife, the band seems to have finally realized that the latter happens most successfully on major key, first person narratives, with touches of exotic sounds and slight historical flourishes. Instead of trying to be a jaquard throw pillow embroidered with 24 karat thread on a King James wingback, Colin, be content with being the pretty 20 year-old photographer who quotes Yeats.
