Slothpop
Slothpop
January 2011Here's something I stumbled upon last summer. Slothpop does a great job of bringing its sounds all together into a spreadable jam. AAA-level instrumentation and singing, and they've clearly saved room for some experimentation and like to dabble in psychedelics. Kind of taps into the non-electronic Radiohead thing. "A much more satisfying album than King of Limbs."

Badface 52: Don't Stop the Rock
Various artists
January 2012

This is the final "hoursong" compilation from Badface, marking the end of 52 weeks of infamy. Each artist spent no more than one hour writing and recording his or her track. Attendance was good on this one, and you'll get an accurate sampling of each artist's strengths. Look forward to an hoursong reincarnation in the future.

Ghost Gallery II
Eyeway
November 2011

5 out of 5 ghosts

Recommended for people who like: 
dark folk, creaky floors in the attic, girls who can sing just as well as guys, acoustic guitars, mournful harmonies, rich vocabulary

Eyeway's Rebeka R. is quite prolific. It seems like there's a new album or EP from her every other week. So when I got the recommendation and later read that she might consider this one her favorite, I thought Ghost Gallery II would be a good place to start.

If you're into lyrics, there are some good ones here. You can read along as you listen by visiting her Xanga site (yeah, Xanga still exists). She's not afraid to use the rough sounding or long kinds of words lyricists often try to avoid, so you're going to hear terms like "trudged," "conjures," "emails," and "astral projection." Frequently, using words like those either sounds stilted when sung in melody or they're spoken like Leonard Cohen does. But Rebeka is at home in melody and floats right over whatever she wants to say, no problem. It makes for a really literate-sounding lyrical style.

"...Rebeka is at home in melody and floats right over whatever she wants to say..."

The music played here is almost entirely on acoustic guitar. The strumming is sometimes upbeat while the chords usually contain open strings to give them a more serious, sometimes spooky, color. And the fingerpicking is clear and beautiful. The production sounds really clean here, which leads me to believe she finally started using something other than her built-in computer microphone. The result is a rich focus on the undeniable beauty of one or a few sounds at a time.

The single thing that ties the lyrics and the music together best is the strong feeling that goes into the performances. Rebeka herself says: "Making these releases is one of the only things bringing me a lot of joy and meaning right now." Every pluck of the string is confident and purposeful, and every note sung is strong and unreserved. There's also the overarching theme of ghostly creepiness that stitches together the tracks. All songs on this album develop and explore this particular mood and stretch it to (and past) its tonal boundaries.

"...a rich focus on the undeniable beauty of one or a few sounds at a time..."

Ghost Gallery II works wonders as an introduction to Eyeway. You're going find that you want a lot more once you're done. And you're certainly going to get it, even if Rebeka has to learn to play guitar as a ghost.

Lost in a Dream Vol. 1: REM
Native Bells
August 2011

2 out of 2 slippers

Recommended for people who like:
pop melodies and harmonies, varied instrumentation, tapping their feet to fun rhythms, dreamscapes, Olivia Tremor Control, sound collages

I haven't trekked too far into Native Bells' extensive catalogue. But what appears to be the 16th release on his Bandcamp site has satisfied me enough that I haven't yet gone for seconds. It's a neatly wrapped gift — some of the richest, most cohesive production you'll hear on a solo project — with an attractive, poppy bow on top.

This first volume of Lost in a Dream is like one of those beautiful, exhilarating dreams you like to brag about to others — you catapulted over London and dove to the bottom of the ocean to eat pumpkin-pie-flavored lobsters. Except nobody cares about other people's dreams, and you should care about this album.

"...some of the richest, most cohesive production you'll hear on a solo project..."

I sensed a lot of references to Olivia Tremor Control (I went to an OTC show with this guy once). Somehow, he pulls off the W. Cullen Hart–style sound collages and the Bill Doss–style pop melodies and has the audacity to be only one person.

You'll also be pleased if you're in the mood for — get ready for multitudinous "esques" —
Quadrophenia-esque theme cyclones, early- and late-Beatles-esque chord progressions, of Montreal–esque rhythmic constructions, Pet Sounds–esque melodic basslines, Young Americans–esque funk grooves, Added Pizzazz–esque reverb-drenched brass, Pink Floyd's More–esque interludes, Simon and Garfunkel–esque percussive jams, Boston-esque singalong harmonies, and, this one's a stretch, a certain city in the sky from Xenogears (I'm talking to you, "Blizzard, 1993"). In other words, Lost in a Dream Vol. 1 seems to be a celebration of a lot of music I love.

"...if you need instructions on how to close an album, look no further than 'Fly Away'..."

The pacing is consistently engaging. The rockers on the album are kept at arm's length by rich and colorful instrumental interludes that span Christmastime jingles, mountainside hymns, reggae, jazz, and blues. And if you need instructions on how to close an album, look no further than "Fly Away," which unabashedly dishes out a nostalgic chord progression, dreamy interlude, magnificent return, and a bittersweet harmonic farewell.

I don't care what you're doing. Take a break and listen to this album. I'll have to save its darker, ghost-of-young-Bob-Dylany second volume for a rainy day.

Two Things

“since language uses us / the way birds use the sky”  —Tony Hoagland

Last night I dreamt of some Caribbean, our four legs
kicking behind us like ducks as we swam from island
to island, naked in warm waters. The breakers
collapsed above our heads but even underwater,
we could breathe. Two glasses floated past us
and we toasted to sunlight, to waves, Atlantic
writhing and gray like any day in November.
It must be November because while I was swimming
you dreamt an absence of women, divorce, stern lawyers
a barrier of squakery between us, the apparition of flight.
The difference between our dreams like the sea
and the sky. Like the passion of hating someone
or loving and the energy demanded of each.
Your plaid shoulders shrug, neck curved like a swan
as you button your shirt fully, find your work shoes
waiting in the kitchen. After you leave, I boil eggs,
sit cross-legged on the counter and stare
at the round shells floating in salted water,
how breakable, how unbreaking.

Stacey B.

Poems will be posted semi-weekly and will be open to comments. I'll explain the philosophy behind the Wayfarer's poetry commenting in the near future. I'll post any poem I'm sent; they won't be assessed or rejected.

Any questions? Hit the comments. I'm looking forward to some good poetry!