Seasick Steve is an analog man in a digital world. He makes guitars out of hubcaps and garden implements, and makes rustic, bluesy music that feels pulled from the earth itself. The irony here is that I only have his music digitally, save for a 45 that I probably should play on a hamster powered Victrola.
Hubcap Music is Seasick Steve’s second album for Third Man Records, and he’s a perfect fit for Jack White’s label. He’s doing something different and interesting, and it’s fascinating. Besides, Hubcap Music begins and ends with the sound of a tractor, and how could that be anything but interesting?
For a while, Joe Tex billed himself as “The Clown Prince Of Soul.” He was a gifted mimic and on one occasion, annoyed James Brown so badly that Brown tracked Tex to a club and shot it up while Joe Tex hid outside. That part isn’t so funny. The collection of songs on BBR’s reissue of 1977’s Bumps & Bruises, however, is often hilarious.
Joe Tex converted to Islam at the height of his career, while still riding high from 1972’s chart success of “I Gotcha.” He quit recording for five years and came back during disco fever. Bumps & Bruises is disco filtered through Tex’s unique sense of humor and funk.
It isn’t often that a band like After The Ice comes my way, so when it happens, it is the best kind of surprise. Their new EP, Thick Snow Magic, starts with a tight, classic metal sound but subtly transforms into something more akin to Radiohead, and then back again to metal. What’s most remarkable is that the shift doesn’t feel abrupt but completely natural.
With a sound like theirs, it’s even more impressive that After The Ice is just a trio, comprised of singer/guitarist Paul Lisak, drummer Tomek-Tomek, and bassist Hamzah Bashir. Lisak has an amazing metal wail and a terrific vibrato but he doesn’t overuse either. Oh, and his guitar licks are hot.
Terry Malts isn’t a person, but a trio from San Francisco. Their new album, Nobody Realizes This Is Nowhere, recalls the easy, breezy days of the early ’90s, before everything was labeled grunge and focused on that blond haired guy with blue eyes and everyone who went on to rip off his band.
No offense to that guy and his band, by the way, because I like them just fine, but there was a whole lot more to the decade than Nirvana. I had a lot of good times back then, and at the risk of sounding like your uncle who waxes nostalgic about the ’70s whenever he hears The Eagles, there was a lot of good music to accompany those times.
I’ll just put this out there now: I think I’m in love with The Muse. The Wood Brothers’ new album is pure auditory bliss and I might never stop listening to it. Recorded “the old fashioned way,” with the band circled around microphones and all in the same room, The Muse has warmth and analog coziness. There’s a loose-limbed, ramshackleness to it that is delightful.
By Less Lee Moore
Not sure how Blouse’s debut passed me by, but I’m certainly glad to know of them now. Their second album, Imperium, is a shoegazer’s daydream: echoey, deadpan vocals and layers upon layers of reverbed guitars and bass. From a lyrical perspective, Imperium is fixated on looking and seeing, themes that recur frequently in the band’s clever lyrics.
To bite a phrase from The Simpsons, is there a more misunderstood and underrated new wave band than the Waitresses? Those familiar with them in these post-millennial times probably only know their trio of radio hits—”I Know What Boys Like,” “Christmas Wrapping,” and the theme song from the sitcom Square Pegs. While these songs don’t misrepresent their work, their songs were weirder, complex, and more interesting than those three tracks would suggest. For many years, the only way curious listeners could hear the band’s deep tracks was to seek out The Best of the Waitresses, a remastered-for-CD compilation from 1990. Omnivore Recordings has finally given the Waitresses their Just Desserts with a two-disc collection of their recordings for Polydor.
Blitzen Trapper‘s Eric Earley has a story to tell. Loads of them, in fact. Blitzen Trapper’s seventh studio album has a seriously Southern Gothic vibe, which is pretty damn amazing for a guy from Portland, Oregon. VII is full of tantalizing, vivid details and stories that evoke dusty roads and swamplands and rusted out cars. It’s one hell of a ride.
Sunset Graves is the creative brainchild of Andy Fosberry. Their debut album is called Variant.
That’s all I know. I kind of wish I didn’t even know that much. I want it to remain this beautiful, ethereal thing, a gift we won’t be able to understand until much later.
Canada’s Headstones are back after a long hiatus and their return is welcome. Their brand of straightforward, damn the torpedoes and hang-on-to-your-wigs-and-keys rock is refreshing in this age of . . . well, you know the state of popular music today.