Tag: folk rock

TRACK | No Lonesome – Good Hurt

5/5 golden merles

No Lonesome’s “Good Hurt” offers a nice, vibrant stain derived from the guttural undercurrent-slurry of Americana, freak-folk and anti-folk. There’s a rich hybridization fermented in its depths, at least a bit of alt country, psych and pop rock in there as well. The tune provides so much joy and triumphant careening for something seemingly repelled and defined by its antitheses.

But as well it should be. “The ultimate hidden truth of the world,” as Graeber wrote, “is that it is something that we make, and could just as easily make differently.”

It is again the care in the compiling that appeals to me most. There’s a lot to admire in the accumulated decision making, investing the piece with details, small phases arranged and melding the rougher edges: the spoken background chatter around the one and two minute marks, the gently mangled vocoder chorus of backing vocals rising in support, its plumed horns and alternating drum lanes that reinforce from differing angular plots upon the soundscape. It all invests the structure with greater meaning and acts in the service of the feeling which is evoked.

“This time / it’s a good hurt… / I’ll love you all I can.”

Friends of Goon / Women / Nerve City / Casual Technicians will likely find some camaraderie in its viscid texture, winding melodic sensibilities, and earnest, heartache-hemorrhaged proclamations.

The four track digital album “Am I What I’m Not?” is available now for $5 on the bandcamp.

TRACK | Merce Lemon – Backyard Lover

5/5 golden merles

Sometimes the magic trick isn’t a slight of hand. Though often the case, it isn’t always derived from a dexterity of muscle memory achieved through practiced repetition coupled to a misdirection which makes it seem as though something incredible has happened. Sometimes a kind of magic is derived from slowing down. Or reexamining what is plainly visible but has been taken for granted. It is the exception to the rule but also remarkable. This is that second one.

Language is complex, small manipulations of its channels and ruts can have a cumulatively outsized effect.

In “Backyard Lovers” pauses are pulled apart, lines are staggered to warp or embolden them. It is a valuable offer for a free and safe means of disoriented coherency. The perspective shifts. The familiar is made a bit exceptional. It speaks in the language you speak, but it expands that language. It appears in a recognizable indie/folk rock arrangement, but it extends the possible combination of elements through some frankness and some creative problem solving otherwise known as invention.

Another way I find it to be good is that sometimes you can let a melody go and it comes back to you stronger. That takes some strong kind of confidence and it’s easy to lose in the process of making. In writing the song you’ve got to remember it; the more subtle its shifts and elaborations, the harder it is to keep the thread from tangling up and knotting here or there. There are many elements to this particular making that seem sheerly intuitive and others that seem deftly calculated.

For example, late on there’s an assemblage of attributes listed that don’t fit the earlier structure, compiled as an addendum between two instrumental passages. It’s placement is a little unusual, but it is adding significant, palpable depth and nuance to the portrayal of the world as it has been uttered into being. Instead of binding back into the chorus at the end and the edge of the track, the bridge leads out of the world, back to this one or another, whatever you prefer.

This song was found through the tireless and obscene scouting of Various Small Flames and you should go read that blog. Vinyls and Tapes from Darling Records, and preorder the files on the bandcamp; arriving on Sept. 27th.

TRACK | The Lavender Flu – Demons In The Dusk

5/5 golden merles

Experimental psych and folk rock from Oregon, The Lavender Flu’s “Demons in the Dusk” finds the lugubrious periphery of rock to be a haunting and inviting sector. And they offer great returns residing and mining this quarter comfortably immediately before collapse.

The album as a whole is consistently wailing and receding, working within its own internal logic that promptly consumes the listener. But “Demons In The Dusk” is probably the foremost hook, the crown jewel of a barb that easiest draws you in. It rewards your patience with a strange, strangled style, then an uptick of treble and trembling in the end.

As we hurtle unapologetically toward a new dark age, estranged from the storied ends, adrift and listless, it suits us well. At least the paths run parallel. Craven and composed, it saunters to the threat of annihilation, an easy going end that specifically omits a mea culpa, “The Lies that you breathe / will follow you.”

4 sides for 30 wending tracks, the double vinyl is around.