Keeping it fluffy and light today, with the soft, soothing sounds of Andrew Birdman, Ariel and Sebastian and Belle and Gaston, and Jenny Hvhvhvhv. I promise next time I’ll shove in the usual disgusting, incomprehensible, heavy metal devil music from Romania (not a guarantee).

Andrew Bird – Inside Problems
(June 3, 2022)

If the album art and name didn’t tip you off already, this is an album of introspection and emotional unease. Perhaps this is yet another post-lockdown album, and Bird spent a lot more time sitting and stewing with his thoughts this time around. And maybe that’s why his violin is more turbulent than I’ve ever heard it before.

I’ve always thought Andrew Bird was a top-notch singer-songwriter and bandleader. For one thing he’s pretty smart, and he knows how to keep his lyrics grounded, convincing, and wry. He’s also totally unpretentious and congenial, which is fucking FANTASTIC and I’d like more of that please from my musicians. Inside Problems is yet another solid addition to Bird’s already solid discography, compiling a collection of whimsically jazzy Appalachian folk. Eclectic and quirky, yet totally unalienating.

The music is almost always bouncy and cheerful even when the lyrics aren’t, but Bird uses his violin to great effect when he wants to add some tension. “Lone Didion”, for example, finishes off with the most avant-garde solo that I’ve ever heard from him. That arguably isn’t saying too much, but all the scraping and plucking over a steady, simply drum/bass beat is certainly captivating. Then there’s the title track that uses a molting bird (pun possibly intended) as a metaphor for the gained wisdom of aging. The highlight is “Make a Picture”. Gorgeous cello, an engaging motorik beat, folksy charm. “Make a picture, make it snappy/Make a picture, don’t look so happy“…

Finally, this is the best-sounding album I’ve heard so far in 2022. Everything is crisp and clear in the mix. There’s an absence of the dreaded over-slickness, the kind of overproduced sterility that can completely ruin music like this if you’re not careful. Not at all here. This is a masterpiece of music production done right.

Buy this album on vinyl like the hipster dork you are.

Early Verdict:

Belle and Sebastian – A Bit of Previous
(May 6, 2022)

Bands like Belle and Sebastian reclaimed the derogatory descriptor “twee” and contributed to the precious indie pop movement that started in the late ’90s. I used to hate them for this. I pulled my head out of my ass and came around a little bit. It has its merits, especially if they’re genuine.

Granted, I’m not much of a Belle and Sebastian historian. This is the first album of theirs I’m listening to! How about that! But a lot of what I’m hearing here sounds like a way more whimsical  permutation of the Dan Bejar-led songs from mid-career New Pornographers. And I adore the New Pornographers! “Talk To Me, Talk To Me” and “Unnecessary Drama” sound especially like New Pornographers tracks, like they took songs off their cutting room floor and slapped some Scottish accents and a damn harmonica over them. This is a compliment.

I had pegged this band as a clean, shoegazey dream pop, like Slowdive or Wild Nothing, so COLOR ME SURPRISED when I heard real energy to a lot of cuts here.  Some of these songs rock pretty hard. Even with the Jethro Tull flutiness and the Rick Wakeman keyboardiness of the aforementioned “Talk To Me, Talk To Me”, it has a fantastic high-octane melody and a squealing guitar solo to boot. But then there’s the slow, sentimental stuff like “Do It for Your Country” and “Sea of Sorrow” which can be a little too sappy for me musically and lyrically for me to take them seriously.

Musical diversity makes up for sappiness. The dancey “Prophets on Hold” and the lounge jazzy “Come on Home” are interesting. The band goes all out on the slow, positive, gospel “If They’re Shooting at You”, which is complete with handclaps and a female backup choir. And I can’t help but enjoy the bouncy melody of the opener “Young and Stupid” along with all the symbolism of years gone by…

I like this, but I don’t love it. I could see this kind of sweetly positive indie music growing on me over time; it has most of the elements I like in my orchestral pop. Lucky for me, if/when that happens, I have ten other Belle and Sebastian albums I can dig into.

Early Verdict:

Jenny Hval – Classic Objects
(March 11, 2022)

I made my acquaintanceship with Jenny Hval after she released Apocalypse, girl, her third studio album under her own name, in 2015. That was back when I was absorbing anything and everything that received even minor critical praise (before children, obviously, when I had way more time). Even thought 2016’s Blood Bitch was a greater commercial success, which brought her a lot more attention in indie circles, I remain partial to the slow unease of Apocalypse, girl. I remember being charmed and captivated by spoken-word snippets of poetry such as “I search the oven, scrub the racks, put my whole head inside…but I just can’t find it.” and “But I keep growing older, eight years since 25 now, and all that ages now is the body. I wonder why. I think to myself one of these days, everything I write begins with the question: what’s wrong with me?“. Yes, I’m charmed by the strangest stuff. What of it?

This one is even better, though. There’s more actual singing from Hval, although she continues to split duties fairly evenly between the singing and the talking. The atmosphere is even more disquieting than suggested by the, er, apocalyptic theme of Apocalypse, girl. It’s in a different way, though. The sound is certainly fuller, maybe even more elegant and graceful, but the painted picture is that of groundedness precariously teetering off the edge. Still optimistic, but bound to topple.

I suppose that all means that this listening experience is quite pleasant, but it’s a little off, and that’s the element that makes it way more engaging. “Year of Love” starts things off with slowly-building ’80s worldbeat while Hval talk-sings abstractly about the construct of marriage and the societal ramifications. With her childlike voice.

Elsewhere, in tracks like “Classic Objects” or “Cemetery of Splendour”, she weaves back and forth between stream-of-consciousness talking and regular ol’ singing, with the music serving as a hazy, minimal backdrop to her poetry. But everything is definitely more musical than I’ve heard in the past. It’s ambient, otherworldly, and eerie. It reminds me of Yo La Tengo at their most pensive and methodical while keeping a steady beat going. “Cemetery of Splendour” is the longest song at seven minutes, but it evolves and builds into one of the album’s deepest grooves. The coolest part is when Hval sings this ghostly siren song while talking over it with a weird schizophrenic grocery list of disjointed thoughts (“Bamboo leaf, bamboo leaf again, and the branch, the branch, the pinecones, and the birds in the distance, gum, gum, gum, cigarette butt, candy wrapper, a button, a slug, shoes came here and here and here, someone once lay down here, but the trees, the trees“), ending with a percussion shuffle, nighttime crickets, and a low, crackling fire.

Sounds like complete bullshit, right? Au contraire. Give this a listen, I don’t do it justice here, pounding out random keys with my stupid face.

Early Verdict: