There are records that strike a mood instantly. You put them on and slip into some place totally defined by the ambience. Today’s artists are just those kind of full immersion performers.
Pearl Charles is being written up in all the usual trend setting and mainstream places. Her self-described ‘country funk’ sound is all the rage with tastemakers in the US and Europe. But she is the real deal, a performer whose songs instantly evoke any given musical moment from mid to late 1970s. I was struck by the opening of “What I Need” from her 2021 album Magic Mirror, drawn in by its smooth keyboards, unmistakable Fleetwood Mac rhythm feel, and alluring pedal steel guitar. And then there’s her light, piercing vocal style. By the chorus I was convinced this must be some kind of 1978 re-release, the track is so era-note perfect. This only seemed to be confirmed with “Slipping Away,” a more haunting hooky rock and roll number but still cast in a late 1970s register. Charles’ back catalogue is worth a listen too. I love the Abba-esque guitar shimmer on the title track from her 2018 album Sleepless Dreamer. I’m also really partial to the lead guitar riffs driving “I Ran So Far” from her 2015 self-titled debut EP. But don’t let all this retro music talk give you the wrong impression. While Charles is definitely inspired by the past, her tunes are enjoyable in the here and now.
I don’t think Lord Huron need any help from me to sell records. But I feel the need to write about their latest album Long Lost as it is quickly becoming my favourite album of 2021. The record’s first single “Not Dead Yet” caught my ear with its jaunty feel and Duane Eddy lead guitar. But as I started listening to the album as a whole I surrendered to the band’s cinematic neo-1950s musical landscape, with its dynamic emotional tension stretching between a prairie desert ennui and a honky tonk Saturday night. “Mine Forever” captures it all between the rumbly lead guitar, sweeping strings backing, and a tender, somewhat tentative vocal. The record then advances through a juxtaposition of songs and spoken word links, the latter sounding a bit like Andy Griffith’s creepy radio populist in Elia Kazan’s brilliant movie A Face in the Crowd. The guitar tones are also one of the real stars of this record. Just listen to the opening bars of “Love Me Like You Used To” to see how a delicious guitar resonance can make an already fabulous song even better. But arguably it’s the band’s talent in synthesizing so many disparate influences that makes this album such a remarkable achievement. Case study: title track “Long Lost.” The song manages to meld a very Beatles Sgt. Pepper strings section with some classic Owen Bradley plinky piano that is just so Patsy Cline. And the combo somehow works. I could go on (and on) about every other song here as the record really represents the band at the peak of their songwriting. Instead, I’ll just highlight the impressive Johnny Horton-like vocal buoyancy kicking off “Twenty Long Years,” the lovely duet on “I Lied,” and the subtle melodic hooks pulling you in on “What Do You Mean.” But you’ll have your own favourites.
Lane Steinberg is a prolific artist, literate both intellectually and musically. His records are chock full of inverted pop culture references, clever social commentary and more than little dark humour. I discovered him via his fabulous, action-packed 2018 collection Lane Steinberg and his Magical Pony, reviewed here. More recently he’s released a cool EP of Grateful Dead covers (Lane Plays Dead) and a catchy collaboration with former bandmade Steven Burdick (Wondertrack). But I’m here to rave about his recent powerful, stripped down EP The Invisible Monster. Though it’s just Steinberg’s voice and guitar, I find the record riveting. The opening cut “The Invisible Monster” oozes menace, managing to convey both fear and vulnerability. Song-structure-wise, the tune is pure Hoagy Carmichael while the lyrics might be the dark side of Johnny Mercer. The rest of the EP is mostly covers, but you’d be hard pressed to recognize them from the originals given their transformation at Steinberg’s hands. For instance, “I Talk to the Wind” is from King Crimson’s 1969 debut album but the version here emotes a spare 1950s Mel Torme yearning. In fact, all the 1960s cuts on the EP sound like they’ve been put through a Torme/Brazilian jazz filter (and that’s a good thing, in my view). The formula works on material as disparate as Bacharach and David’s Dionne Warwick hit “In Between the Heartaches,” Love’s “Andmoreagain” (from Forever Changes), and Chico Buarque’s 1966 single “Quem Te Viu, Quem Te Vê” (obviously). Steinberg has a slightly different demeanor on a touching remake of the Beach Boys “I Want To Pick You Up” (the vocal reminds of Mark Everitt’s style on his E recordings) while his run at Kurt Weil’s “Lost in the Stars” sounds like something Elvis Costello would work up. The record ends with another original, the timely Bacharach-tinged “These Ain’t Normal Times.” If you’re looking for something to accompany those dark nights of the soul, something for Sinatra’s wee small hours, spend some time with this Lane Steinberg EP. You’ll feel something. Good.
Music can be like a magic mood changer if you’ve got records like these. Visit Pearl Charles, Lord Huron, and Lane Steinberg for your non-prescription mood altering drug.
There is so much great music out there, waiting to be noticed. I can hardly keep up writing about just a fraction of it! Our turn around the dial this time showcases a quartet of hardworking journeymen songwriters and performers who have done their time in the trenches and could use a little more glory.
We’re written about the sublime joy that is Dan Israel before. He writes a kind of cross-over, folk-inflected poprock that is increasingly rare in our hipster-hyphenated, genre lockdown. Here I’m thinking Cat Stevens at his most melodic or even a more upbeat Jim Croce. It’s all there on Israel’s new album You’re Free. This is a relaxing at the cabin or driving somewhere record, that deftly mixes more slow-moving introspection with uptempo rock and roll. The album kicks off kicks off with what sounds like a very Cat Stevens-like vocal and song structure on “Gets You Through It,” channels some early 1970s Paul Simon on the breezy “Make This Life Mine,” and vibes Tom Petty on the more rockin’ “Someday You’ll Say.” But the album highlight is the obvious single, “You’re Free.” This baby has a driving beat and melodic hook reminiscent of both John Lennon and Bob Dylan, when they deigned to cast out some hooks. You’re Free is another winner for Dan Israel, very much worth the cover price.
It’s hard to get a fix on Lane Steinberg. Whatever the genre, the guy is obviously supremely talented, with an enormous back catalogue of work spanning decades, performed by range of musical combos. The diversity is in evidence on his latest release, Lane Steinberg and his Magic Pony. The cover alone has gotten attention – its looks like a somewhat bizarre record store find, perhaps dug out of a bin alongside Spock’s Music from Outer Space. The record itself is a curious blend of melodic satire, gentle political commentary, and straight up poprock, with a few Noel Coward-ish piano tunes thrown in for good measure. Steinberg is clearly having fun, mocking everything from the technology (“You’re Not Connected to the Internet”) to fake social concern (“I’m Tony Hayward and I’d Like My Life Back”) to the sureties of both the political left and right (“Crazy as a Shithouse Rat”). But he is also deadly serious about his poprock craft. “Another Early Autumn” hits all the Beach Boys marks. “Everyone Thinks I’m Happy Now” channels the Beatles c. 1966, with help from that “Strawberry Fields Forever” organ. On a more contemporary note, both “Franklin and First” and “Who Does Your Mind Control?” have the confident melodic sheen of the best work by the Eels. But the standout track for me here is the mildly strident yet seductive “After Taxes,” a song that allows Steinberg’s varied influences to really gel into a distinctive sound of their own. I think Lee Dorsey would agree – it’s time to ride your (magic) pony!
You’re a celebrated national sports writer and best selling author but in your spare time you decide to put out your first album of 1960s-inspired poprock songs? That’s David Sheinin on his new album, First Thing Tomorrow, and it’s a winner. This is a breezy fun collection of pop ditties that draw from all the great artists from the 1960s through the 1980s. Just listening to the record you’d swear Sheinin is some twenties-something wunderkind, full of young idealism and enthusiasm. “Oh Amelia” captures this nicely with its rippling guitar lines, or “City You Left Behind” with it’s swinging hooks. Not that Sheinin just mellows out – there is a great new wave rock and roll feel to “Talking to Myself” that reminds me of Elvis Costello or Michael Penn. And then there’s the early 1960s throwback sound of “What’s the Matter.” The whole record is sonic treat, a soundtrack for convertible driving at sunset!
I wonder if KC Bowman sleeps. The guy has put out an enormous amount of material over the years, a lot of it available for free on his bandcamp site under his various band monikers: Lawsuit, Rhythm Akimbo, Agony Aunts, Preoccupied Pipers, Vinny’s Vipers, etc. I’ve heard the occasional single over the years on this or that compilation but haven’t really kept up with his career. Well now you and I can both catch up with his exquisite career-spanning compilation album Important with a Capital I. There are so many highlights on this record I can single out only a few choice cuts, like the opening should-be hit single “Blithering Heights” or the equally single-licious “Super Bad Report.” Bowman has unerring knack for squeezing a hook into just about any song form, utilizing a range killer guitar licks and sweet sounding compressed vocals. Check out his genius homage to Schoolhouse Rocks’ “I’m Just a Bill” on “Mine Called Somebody Else” – this is some pretty subtle referencing! And so on. This record will have you searching through the depths of Bowman’s back catalogue for what you’ve been missing all these years.