Ok, so a blog about metal music is likely the last thing I would expect from me. But hey, it's my blog's one year birthday (!!!) and I think I'm entitled to branch out into some uncharted territories here.
I have to back this up by saying the urge to keep rocking harder is not a new sensation. I flirted with hardcore rock in high school (and admittedly the boys who liked it), and the urge for dance music comes from that same primal place of wanting a rhythm to shake you to your core and make you move in uncontrollable ways, not unlike an addict wanting a more intense experience. It is for this precise reason that on the rare occasion that I choose to embarrass myself at karaoke that I always fall back on Guns N' Roses "Sweet Child of Mine." While I don't think I will ever be a rockstar, for those few moments that I get to yell in my best cracking falsetto, shake out my mane, and play some air guitar that would only be improved by more beer, I get that satisfying whiff of what it must be like to truly rock. And it's AWESOME.
So it was only appropriately that tonight I should go see Anvil: The Story of Anvil, a touching tale about a metal band that had all the ingredients for success but whose souffle never rose. It was poignant, funny, and shed a glaring backstage light on a rock band with thirty years of history.
But the uglier, unflattering side of rock can be beautiful sometimes and that's where metal comes in. I loved the raw electric energy of Anvil's "Metal on Metal," with it's shredding guitars that would undoubtedly leave my ears ringing post gig, and the deliciously creepy vocals of Lips Kudlow that were punctured with deeply soul shaking animal growls.
And as I watched footage of these (mostly male) audiences clad in black and rocking out harder than I probably have in my life, I sort of got it. While it may be unlikely that I will ever reach the level where I start following acts such as Bone Gnawer, I respect what fathered this urge to rock and have to give kudos to anyone who has the delicate ear to hear the subtleties among the subgenres of metal and give themselves up to such an honest, raw place.
In addition to that, I think there's something to be said for the metal audience (again, coming from my somewhat limited experience) as the general tendency to assume that metal is mean music (which some of it may very well be). I'm going to go so far as to say that I think metal might actually make people nice. Having something like metal as such a controlled healthy outlet for anger and agression, I think it ends up being the musical equivalent of a punching bag. I mean, I've met my fair share of assholes who listen to Jack Johnson so why can't it work the other way around? The members of Anvil came off as stand up, even sweet (and often sensitive) guys, and I'd say they were an exception to the rule except that the few individuals I know who are into "scary" music happen to be some of the kindest people I know.
So perhaps it's time to not be quite so afraid of the dark. Or at least recognize its redeeming qualities.
For some serious metal connosseurship from a seriously nice guy, check out Cerebral Metalhead.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Friday, July 3, 2009
Sonos at Banana Republic (album Sonos Sings)
It's rare that a concert blows me away. I can go to a gig, have a good time, but to leave a concert steeped in the flavor of the music to the point where I leave and tell people "ohmygodyouhavetoheartheseguystheyreamaaaazing," well, that's a less frequent occurrence. But there was just so much about this event that really set it apart from other concerts. An acapella group singing covers of lesser known pop artists such as Jazzanova and Bird and the Bee at Banana Republic? Well, at least I knew it would be different. And it was a pretty cool branded experience as well - I know I'll think differently next time I walk into Banana Republic.
There, amid this season's shorts and brightly colored T-shirts, something amazing happened. A group of six young people who could have been going out to dinner, shopping, or doing any other mundane thing began producing an incredible range of meticulously arranged sounds to reproduce some old and new favorites. Their single is the brilliant, crystalline remake of Radiohead's "Everything in it's Right Place," with all the originally digital atmospherics sounding slightly less creepy but no less precise when created organically. Their version of The Bird and the Bee's "Again and Again" showed a keen ear for selection as well. The original lends itself very well to acappella arrangement and is given new life and a greater sense of engagement with vocals interpreting Greg Kurstin's skillful production.
Their cover of The Jackson 5's "I Want You Back" was artfully arranged and remarkably relevant but the two songs in their set that really sold me were ones whose originals I wasn't familiar with but visited after. Their version of Bon Iver's "Re: Stacks" captures the whispery essence of it nicely, but in making the lead vocals female makes it crisper and adds a girlish sweetness that would make it perfect in for one of those heart wrenching scenes in Grey's Anatomy or Garden State. But my absolute favorite was their version of Jazzanova's "Little Bird" (and upon listening to the original I have to give a lot of credit to Jazzanova where it's due.) Sonos manages to capture the warmth and fullness of the strings backing Jose James rich, buttery (yes, I said it!) vocals while putting a more ponderous spin on it.
Their debut is slated to be released September 15th on Verve, but I highly recommend catching a live show - it's truly an experience and brings the group to life as artists in their own right, as opposed to the cool novelty they happen to be as well.
Hear stuff on MySpace!
There, amid this season's shorts and brightly colored T-shirts, something amazing happened. A group of six young people who could have been going out to dinner, shopping, or doing any other mundane thing began producing an incredible range of meticulously arranged sounds to reproduce some old and new favorites. Their single is the brilliant, crystalline remake of Radiohead's "Everything in it's Right Place," with all the originally digital atmospherics sounding slightly less creepy but no less precise when created organically. Their version of The Bird and the Bee's "Again and Again" showed a keen ear for selection as well. The original lends itself very well to acappella arrangement and is given new life and a greater sense of engagement with vocals interpreting Greg Kurstin's skillful production.
Their cover of The Jackson 5's "I Want You Back" was artfully arranged and remarkably relevant but the two songs in their set that really sold me were ones whose originals I wasn't familiar with but visited after. Their version of Bon Iver's "Re: Stacks" captures the whispery essence of it nicely, but in making the lead vocals female makes it crisper and adds a girlish sweetness that would make it perfect in for one of those heart wrenching scenes in Grey's Anatomy or Garden State. But my absolute favorite was their version of Jazzanova's "Little Bird" (and upon listening to the original I have to give a lot of credit to Jazzanova where it's due.) Sonos manages to capture the warmth and fullness of the strings backing Jose James rich, buttery (yes, I said it!) vocals while putting a more ponderous spin on it.
Their debut is slated to be released September 15th on Verve, but I highly recommend catching a live show - it's truly an experience and brings the group to life as artists in their own right, as opposed to the cool novelty they happen to be as well.
Hear stuff on MySpace!
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Just Jack's "All Night Cinema" and Miike Snow's "Miike Snow"
I'm a big fan of pairings - wine and cheese, beer and sausage, cookies and more cookies. . .Some things just work all the better when they have a little friend. The same can definitely go for albums. Much as I like to listen to songs and albums over and over again until I never want to again for that week, there's something nice about the groove created by two albums that have complimentary flows and vibes. Plus, you still get to enjoy the obsessive continuity of listening to an entire album. Such is the case for two fantastic recent releases, Just Jack's All Night Cinema, and Miike Snow's self titled debut. Both albums share a certain disco influenced grooviness paired with vocals that have the restraint of indie rock for a musical experience that lives between chill and dancey.
To be fair, this is not my first time extolling Just Jack, but All Night Cinema truly deserves its own rant. With his tongue in cheek and obviously accented rhymes, Jack Allsopp (aka Just Jack), has often been likened to the Streets. Having enjoyed much less success, that is where the similarities end. Whereas Mike Skinner's lyrics speak of growing up in urban London, Allsopp's are a bit more emotional and much less angsty. The album kicks off with the jaunty string laden "Embers," which ebbs and flows into some truly lovely cinematic crescendos. It's immediately followed by the micheviously jaunty "253," that has the same effect on me as the carefree sounds of Badly Drawn Boy. There's the same prominent use of strings with the addition of the harmonica and carefree whistling to set the tone for lyrics like "over years the love receeded / a bit like her old man's hairline." Delving deeper into the disco spectrum are foot tappers like the amusing "Doctor, Doctor" and "Goth in the Disco," but one of my favorite songs (that incidentally sounds most Streets-like) is the mellower sounds of "Blood." With a recessed hip-hop beat and lyrical content hinting at some seriously fucked up family issues, there's a a cool sinister edge to Allssopp's sound that reminds me of those songs of his that grabbed me to begin with.
The disco beats and male vocals of All Night Cinema make a smooth transition into Miike Snow's excellently produced self-titled debut. Though seemingly novices on the scene, these Swedes have written and produced for the likes of Kylie Minogue, Madonna, Britney Spears, and Daniel Merriweather, alongside producer legend Mark Ronson. Not bad for street cred. And it doesn't hurt that the album is pretty fantastic - I think their sound is something like a cross between the disco-danciness of Jamiroqaui combined the orchestral pop of Arcade Fire and a bit of house music effects thrown in. I'm actually a fan of the entire album as a continuous listen (which is rare), but I think the first three songs are absolutely killer. There is the lilting, undisputable single "Animal" that begs to be accompanied by a light show and oversized shades. It's followed by "Burial," which is echoey, dripping, hipster bliss, much in the same vein as Animal Collective, with those grand sweeping bits that makes everyone go nuts when they hear Arcade Fire. But the song that gets me everytime is "Silvia." It has a ton of film and TV potential emotionally and sonically, though lyrically it won't do much, so I think it's a song destined to be enjoyed for the sake of enjoyment. It's echoey and space with heady synths and sounds; but despite the electronic-ness of it, there's the Coldplay type piano which grounds it in pop, as well as aching wistful vocals that make you love Silvia just a little bit too.
Just Jack on MySpace
Miike Snow on Last FM
Bunch of free Miike Snow mp3s and remixes!!
To be fair, this is not my first time extolling Just Jack, but All Night Cinema truly deserves its own rant. With his tongue in cheek and obviously accented rhymes, Jack Allsopp (aka Just Jack), has often been likened to the Streets. Having enjoyed much less success, that is where the similarities end. Whereas Mike Skinner's lyrics speak of growing up in urban London, Allsopp's are a bit more emotional and much less angsty. The album kicks off with the jaunty string laden "Embers," which ebbs and flows into some truly lovely cinematic crescendos. It's immediately followed by the micheviously jaunty "253," that has the same effect on me as the carefree sounds of Badly Drawn Boy. There's the same prominent use of strings with the addition of the harmonica and carefree whistling to set the tone for lyrics like "over years the love receeded / a bit like her old man's hairline." Delving deeper into the disco spectrum are foot tappers like the amusing "Doctor, Doctor" and "Goth in the Disco," but one of my favorite songs (that incidentally sounds most Streets-like) is the mellower sounds of "Blood." With a recessed hip-hop beat and lyrical content hinting at some seriously fucked up family issues, there's a a cool sinister edge to Allssopp's sound that reminds me of those songs of his that grabbed me to begin with.
The disco beats and male vocals of All Night Cinema make a smooth transition into Miike Snow's excellently produced self-titled debut. Though seemingly novices on the scene, these Swedes have written and produced for the likes of Kylie Minogue, Madonna, Britney Spears, and Daniel Merriweather, alongside producer legend Mark Ronson. Not bad for street cred. And it doesn't hurt that the album is pretty fantastic - I think their sound is something like a cross between the disco-danciness of Jamiroqaui combined the orchestral pop of Arcade Fire and a bit of house music effects thrown in. I'm actually a fan of the entire album as a continuous listen (which is rare), but I think the first three songs are absolutely killer. There is the lilting, undisputable single "Animal" that begs to be accompanied by a light show and oversized shades. It's followed by "Burial," which is echoey, dripping, hipster bliss, much in the same vein as Animal Collective, with those grand sweeping bits that makes everyone go nuts when they hear Arcade Fire. But the song that gets me everytime is "Silvia." It has a ton of film and TV potential emotionally and sonically, though lyrically it won't do much, so I think it's a song destined to be enjoyed for the sake of enjoyment. It's echoey and space with heady synths and sounds; but despite the electronic-ness of it, there's the Coldplay type piano which grounds it in pop, as well as aching wistful vocals that make you love Silvia just a little bit too.
Just Jack on MySpace
Miike Snow on Last FM
Bunch of free Miike Snow mp3s and remixes!!
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Anil Chawla & Dale Anderson - "Minimalize"
So as a former English major and current geek, I have to say I've always been a big fan of onomatopoeia (though not spelling it). Tracks with simple names like "Minimalize" that are, well, minimal house, just tickle my linguistic sensibilities, in addition to my eardrums.
It's been awhile (or at least according to my blog) that a new house track has really grabbed my attention, and at first listen, I thought this song was some mid 90's classic that I had just discovered. It had those echo-ey blips, open soundscapes and lush trumpets that I've come to associate with a niche market of music only still popular among ex DJs in the UK and Germany and fifteen year olds on ecstasy with far too much day glo jewelry.
So it was to my delight when I found out that Anil Chawla & Dale Anderson's album Roadhouse came out just a couple months ago on none other than Global Underground, one of the labels still delivering quality house music to that few still devoted to headphones and vinyl. These are the guys who will spin for you on a Monday night, and do their duty lugging their records between Ibiza and Miami for the ones achieving enlightenment through partying.
Roadhouse's album cover basically says it all with its simplistic design of undoubtedly airbrushed closeups of the two DJs' faces. Because after going to countless clubs all over the world, I've come to the conclusion that that's what electronic music is most of the time - two regular looking guys in jeans, T-shirts, and killer sneakers given supreme powers due to decks, laptops, lights, and whatever you're on at the moment. And when you hear a track like the sparse yet solid groove of "Minimalize," you can hear that same understated house magic transforming an empty warehouse into a pulsating mass of people having the best night of their lives, which is all anyone ever wants when they go out anyways.
Anil Chawla
You better believe he's wearing shades in multiple photos.
Dale Anderson
Clearly having a sexiness competition with Anil.
It's been awhile (or at least according to my blog) that a new house track has really grabbed my attention, and at first listen, I thought this song was some mid 90's classic that I had just discovered. It had those echo-ey blips, open soundscapes and lush trumpets that I've come to associate with a niche market of music only still popular among ex DJs in the UK and Germany and fifteen year olds on ecstasy with far too much day glo jewelry.
So it was to my delight when I found out that Anil Chawla & Dale Anderson's album Roadhouse came out just a couple months ago on none other than Global Underground, one of the labels still delivering quality house music to that few still devoted to headphones and vinyl. These are the guys who will spin for you on a Monday night, and do their duty lugging their records between Ibiza and Miami for the ones achieving enlightenment through partying.
Roadhouse's album cover basically says it all with its simplistic design of undoubtedly airbrushed closeups of the two DJs' faces. Because after going to countless clubs all over the world, I've come to the conclusion that that's what electronic music is most of the time - two regular looking guys in jeans, T-shirts, and killer sneakers given supreme powers due to decks, laptops, lights, and whatever you're on at the moment. And when you hear a track like the sparse yet solid groove of "Minimalize," you can hear that same understated house magic transforming an empty warehouse into a pulsating mass of people having the best night of their lives, which is all anyone ever wants when they go out anyways.
Anil Chawla
You better believe he's wearing shades in multiple photos.
Dale Anderson
Clearly having a sexiness competition with Anil.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Merci, France!
As a French speaker, I feel as though I've spent a disproportionate amount of time singing the praises of my adoptive culture (the British) while neglecting my butter loving (!) chain-smoking family. Despite my lack of attention, I will officially go on the record and say that in addition to being responsible for some seriously decent music (as well as unparalleled decadent desserts), the French are on the forefront when it comes to music discovery, with labels like Kitsune being an excellent example. Their compilations are consistently light years ahead of the US and manage to blend tomorrow's sounds into a pastiche of hipness that tend to inspire dancing and bouts of obsessive music hunting and buying.
As it turns out, this month just so happens to be one fraught with artists that Kitsune pioneered. Artists like artist Phoenix, whose next album Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix is dropping within the next couple months. What bad can you say about a band where member Laurent Brancowitz once collaborated with everyone's favorite French dance musicians Daft Punk? It's clear that these two acts were friends - Phoenix consistently churns out synthy 80's indie pop with a surprising amount of sweetness that move fluidly through the gamut of emotions while remaining comfortably in the genre. From the super jangly "Listzomania" and the jagged "1901," to the more atsmospheric and cinematic "Love Like a Sunset (Parts 1 and 2)" the whole album reminds me why I loved this band to begin with.
And then there is British artist La Roux; sexy, synthy, paraded about the Kitsune compilations and with such hot remixers that they might as well be as French as their name. This duo coaxes sounds deep and dark from their synths, reminiscent of Depeche Mode, but with cool detached female vocals to make them sound infinitely more sensual. Their singles "Quicksand" and "In the Kill" are solid tunes; however, someone at either Kitsune or Polydor (their domestic label for the forthcoming 2009 release) is doing some killer A&R because each remix released thus far truly showcases a different element of La Roux's sound.
Mad Decent do a great reworking of "Quicksand" really framing Eleanor Jackson's vocals, while the autoKratz Drags to Riches remix takes the tune to the dancefloor with a driving electro rhythm that belongs in a set with dirty Frenchies such as Sebastian, Justice and the like. "In the Kill" is a mellower, angstier song, driven deeper by the silvery touch of producer Lifelike whose remix allows the synths to roll through like sweet love, while Skream's "Let's Get Ravey Remix" is an intense soul searching end of the night / early morning hazy trip hop perfection.
Phoenix "1901"
La Roux remixes
As it turns out, this month just so happens to be one fraught with artists that Kitsune pioneered. Artists like artist Phoenix, whose next album Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix is dropping within the next couple months. What bad can you say about a band where member Laurent Brancowitz once collaborated with everyone's favorite French dance musicians Daft Punk? It's clear that these two acts were friends - Phoenix consistently churns out synthy 80's indie pop with a surprising amount of sweetness that move fluidly through the gamut of emotions while remaining comfortably in the genre. From the super jangly "Listzomania" and the jagged "1901," to the more atsmospheric and cinematic "Love Like a Sunset (Parts 1 and 2)" the whole album reminds me why I loved this band to begin with.
And then there is British artist La Roux; sexy, synthy, paraded about the Kitsune compilations and with such hot remixers that they might as well be as French as their name. This duo coaxes sounds deep and dark from their synths, reminiscent of Depeche Mode, but with cool detached female vocals to make them sound infinitely more sensual. Their singles "Quicksand" and "In the Kill" are solid tunes; however, someone at either Kitsune or Polydor (their domestic label for the forthcoming 2009 release) is doing some killer A&R because each remix released thus far truly showcases a different element of La Roux's sound.
Mad Decent do a great reworking of "Quicksand" really framing Eleanor Jackson's vocals, while the autoKratz Drags to Riches remix takes the tune to the dancefloor with a driving electro rhythm that belongs in a set with dirty Frenchies such as Sebastian, Justice and the like. "In the Kill" is a mellower, angstier song, driven deeper by the silvery touch of producer Lifelike whose remix allows the synths to roll through like sweet love, while Skream's "Let's Get Ravey Remix" is an intense soul searching end of the night / early morning hazy trip hop perfection.
Phoenix "1901"
La Roux remixes
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Ryan Bingham - "Southside of Heaven"
Well shucks, I know his album Mescalito came out in 2007, which is ancient in record time, but as Ryan Bingham is playing Coachella this year, I wanted to give some loving to my favorite Marlboro man and the only country singer I've ever loved.
Which is a big deal, considering I have never liked country. I used to be one of those "anything but country" people until I had the good sense to learn that I didn't care much for metal music, Tuvan throat singing, and a whole bunch of other stuff that might not make it into the average person's (or even average music lover's) music collection.
But Ryan Bingham was different. I was introduced to his music through a deal he did with Stitch's jeans and surprisingly, electronic label Quango, who released his first EP. One listen to his cigarette tinted voice and kick ass bluesy guitars and I suddenly found myself wondering what it would be like to go on a road trip through middle America in the truck I didn't have, and if a Jewish girl from LA and a cowboy from Texas could possibly be happy together.
Lucky for me, Ryan Bingham came to play Canter's Kibbitz Room (coincidence? I think not!) and for some reason, I managed to accrue a gang of about eight people to see a country singer-songwriter they had never heard of. And it was - well, not magical as that's not a masculine enough word for it, but the male, cowboy equivalent of a magical prom night. Bingham was every bit the cowboy he sounded - from Texas, Bingham spent a good amount of time traveling the rodeo circuit and picked up some of his guitar skills from his Mexican neighbor (as can be heard on "Boracho.") Tall and slim, he wore cowboy boots and a cowboy hat and could likely be found outside smoking what I'm sure were Marlboro Reds, which, when combined with whisky gave his voice a gravely depth much more than his twenty something years.
Much as I love the album I think "Southside of Heaven" was really what stood out and sold me. He is completely genuine, growling heartfelt lyrics about life on the road which, though they have nothing to do with me, are touching in their earnestness and sense of yearning which always sounds a bit more honest set to country. In addition to a lot of heart, there is some serious talent backing this song. Nothing electronic, just some excellent guitar picking, harmonica, and cheeky banjos with the well placed whine of the sadly underused slide guitar.
So if you have a chance to catch this desperado under the open sky of the Indio desert, I would highly recommend it. Shy of going to Texas, it's as authentic as you can get and likely just as rewarding.
Wide open MySpace
Sepia toned video of Ryan and his git-tar that couldn't be more perfect.
Which is a big deal, considering I have never liked country. I used to be one of those "anything but country" people until I had the good sense to learn that I didn't care much for metal music, Tuvan throat singing, and a whole bunch of other stuff that might not make it into the average person's (or even average music lover's) music collection.
But Ryan Bingham was different. I was introduced to his music through a deal he did with Stitch's jeans and surprisingly, electronic label Quango, who released his first EP. One listen to his cigarette tinted voice and kick ass bluesy guitars and I suddenly found myself wondering what it would be like to go on a road trip through middle America in the truck I didn't have, and if a Jewish girl from LA and a cowboy from Texas could possibly be happy together.
Lucky for me, Ryan Bingham came to play Canter's Kibbitz Room (coincidence? I think not!) and for some reason, I managed to accrue a gang of about eight people to see a country singer-songwriter they had never heard of. And it was - well, not magical as that's not a masculine enough word for it, but the male, cowboy equivalent of a magical prom night. Bingham was every bit the cowboy he sounded - from Texas, Bingham spent a good amount of time traveling the rodeo circuit and picked up some of his guitar skills from his Mexican neighbor (as can be heard on "Boracho.") Tall and slim, he wore cowboy boots and a cowboy hat and could likely be found outside smoking what I'm sure were Marlboro Reds, which, when combined with whisky gave his voice a gravely depth much more than his twenty something years.
Much as I love the album I think "Southside of Heaven" was really what stood out and sold me. He is completely genuine, growling heartfelt lyrics about life on the road which, though they have nothing to do with me, are touching in their earnestness and sense of yearning which always sounds a bit more honest set to country. In addition to a lot of heart, there is some serious talent backing this song. Nothing electronic, just some excellent guitar picking, harmonica, and cheeky banjos with the well placed whine of the sadly underused slide guitar.
So if you have a chance to catch this desperado under the open sky of the Indio desert, I would highly recommend it. Shy of going to Texas, it's as authentic as you can get and likely just as rewarding.
Wide open MySpace
Sepia toned video of Ryan and his git-tar that couldn't be more perfect.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Emiliana Torrini
When I was at summer camp (right after the fourth grade), I decided to showcase my burgeoning singing skills at a solo performance at the talent show in front of the swimming pool. My plan was to sing some pop ballad karaoke style and wow everyone with my dulcet tones. As soon as the first strains wafted over the expectant crowd, my jaw locked and my eyes began to tear.
"Are you gonna sing?" asked the smarmy kid in the front row in Hawaiian shorts. He was a fifth grader. I shook my head, terrified. "Are you gonna cry?" he prodded with unmasked glee. I nodded, eyes brimming and ran off stage, where I spent the remainder of the talent show watching everyone else perform their brilliant and well rehearsed pieces.
That brief moment was perfectly reflective of my career as a singer, which is why whenever I see exceptionally talented female artists/singer-songwriters, which seems to be the case as of late, I find my appreciation slightly tinged with envy. Such was the case tonight as I watched the lovely and Icelandic Emiliana Torrini.
I was introduced to the songstress through her vocalist work with Thievery Corporation, her charmingly and ambiguously accented voice fluttering above the DC duos world dub beats. So it was to my great pleasure when I received her sophomore effort Me and Armini and found nearly the entire thing to my liking.
The more I find out about Emiliana, the more I like her. She has an impressive resume; she was a member of electronic outfit GusGus, has toured with the likes of Moby and Dido, and garnered a Grammy nomination for co-writing and producing Kylie Minogue's "Slow," which is a killer pop track, and released her trip hop debut Love in the Time of Science on Virgin in 1999. Knowing all of this, it comes as something of a surprise that Me and Armini is a rather successful departure into folk waters, though there are clear influences of reggae, trip hop and jazz in different songs. Her voice, which is sweet and, according to those with more technical knowledge than me, of limited range lends itself well to an organic, unplugged sound and the overall effect is lovely and feminine, but in such a way that it becomes quickly clear that she is most definitely a musician. And she quietly rocks.
In the intimate and somewhat surreal setting of the Standard Hollywood's Cactus Lounge, Emiliana quietly introduced each song in her acoustic set, explaining the songwriting process. Poised as she was as a singer, she (quite adorably) shied away from the mike, fidgeting bashfully as she explained that she had no recollection of writing the title track, and that Armini was a friend that she had made in her whiskey. Liquid inspiration or not, "Me and Armini" remains one of the strongest tracks on the album, backed with reggae rhythm guitars for a more exotic sound. She was kind enough to play some of my other favorite tracks from the album, introducing the cautious and pared down "Big Jumps" as a song for people to who were brave enough to be happy. But the song that truly moved the crowd (and coincidentally is one of the album's singles) was the fast paced and buoyant (at least in comparison to the rest of the album) "Jungle Drum." It is indeed a love song, and made all the more endearing by the fact that she acknowledges that it is nowhere near poetry, before going on and singing the onomatopoeia of the jungle drum beat with all her heart.
Check her MySpace.
"Are you gonna sing?" asked the smarmy kid in the front row in Hawaiian shorts. He was a fifth grader. I shook my head, terrified. "Are you gonna cry?" he prodded with unmasked glee. I nodded, eyes brimming and ran off stage, where I spent the remainder of the talent show watching everyone else perform their brilliant and well rehearsed pieces.
That brief moment was perfectly reflective of my career as a singer, which is why whenever I see exceptionally talented female artists/singer-songwriters, which seems to be the case as of late, I find my appreciation slightly tinged with envy. Such was the case tonight as I watched the lovely and Icelandic Emiliana Torrini.
I was introduced to the songstress through her vocalist work with Thievery Corporation, her charmingly and ambiguously accented voice fluttering above the DC duos world dub beats. So it was to my great pleasure when I received her sophomore effort Me and Armini and found nearly the entire thing to my liking.
The more I find out about Emiliana, the more I like her. She has an impressive resume; she was a member of electronic outfit GusGus, has toured with the likes of Moby and Dido, and garnered a Grammy nomination for co-writing and producing Kylie Minogue's "Slow," which is a killer pop track, and released her trip hop debut Love in the Time of Science on Virgin in 1999. Knowing all of this, it comes as something of a surprise that Me and Armini is a rather successful departure into folk waters, though there are clear influences of reggae, trip hop and jazz in different songs. Her voice, which is sweet and, according to those with more technical knowledge than me, of limited range lends itself well to an organic, unplugged sound and the overall effect is lovely and feminine, but in such a way that it becomes quickly clear that she is most definitely a musician. And she quietly rocks.
In the intimate and somewhat surreal setting of the Standard Hollywood's Cactus Lounge, Emiliana quietly introduced each song in her acoustic set, explaining the songwriting process. Poised as she was as a singer, she (quite adorably) shied away from the mike, fidgeting bashfully as she explained that she had no recollection of writing the title track, and that Armini was a friend that she had made in her whiskey. Liquid inspiration or not, "Me and Armini" remains one of the strongest tracks on the album, backed with reggae rhythm guitars for a more exotic sound. She was kind enough to play some of my other favorite tracks from the album, introducing the cautious and pared down "Big Jumps" as a song for people to who were brave enough to be happy. But the song that truly moved the crowd (and coincidentally is one of the album's singles) was the fast paced and buoyant (at least in comparison to the rest of the album) "Jungle Drum." It is indeed a love song, and made all the more endearing by the fact that she acknowledges that it is nowhere near poetry, before going on and singing the onomatopoeia of the jungle drum beat with all her heart.
Check her MySpace.
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