Taylor Dobbs is a man who still believes that journalism is a job that deserves to be celebrated. Preferably with glasses of gin and Springsteen sing-alongs. You can follow him on Twitter @taylordobbs 

Thunder Road – Bruce Springsteen

Just about any good story could start with “The screen door slams…” and to be honest, I’m not sure what exactly Bruce Springsteen’s Thunder Road is about. But his ability to craft a feeling, the feeling of youth, the desperation and reckless abandon of “the engines roaring on,” and living that for the first time. “Hey, what else can we do now,” — and this is where he breaks it open — “except roll down the window and let the wind blow back your hair?” I blew through my teen years driving too fast, and much of it was in the pursuit of the feeling Springsteen captured so beautifully here.

Butterflies and Hurricanes – Muse

Before graduating high school, each senior in my class had to write a 10-page memoir. That year was a dark one for me, and I was putting my family through hell as I flailed, terrified, towards the real world. I’ve always love to write, and I used that memoir as an outlet for the depression I felt. My teacher wrote me back, and in her page-long letter she told me she was sorry for the pain I felt, then sent me on a mission I’ve pursued ever since:  ”I will, however, request that you use that vision and sadness, when it comes, for a purpose. Tell the truth. Write it down. Someone will read it, and we will start making some progress. That’s what we need, and you are the man for the job. Get on it.”

Every time I hear this song, I think of that teacher and the side of the darkness (there is more coming on this playlist) she showed me: the side I can turn into good.

Famous Last Words – My Chemical Romance

Honestly, I’m not sure what it is about this song that speaks to me. And I’m not sure there is anything I could write here that might make you think anything but what you’ve always thought when someone tells you they like My Chemical Romance. You should probably think that about me, because it’s probably true. I’ve got a temper. Not the kind that will make me yell at a cashier or sucker-punch a random in a bar, but one that allows me to be so hard on myself and angry about my failings that I fall into a fit of rage. It can reach the point where I don’t move for fear that I’ll lash out and break something. In those moments, fill my stillness with noise. I play this and many other songs at a volume so high I only know the words by memory. Somehow, I come out the other side feeling alright.

Gravity – John Mayer (Live at the Nokia Theater)

For all of the criticism John Mayer faces for being to poppy or being a scumbag (I won’t defend him there), the man can shred. And it’s not just raw skill. I love Gravity, and I don’t think I’ve ever found a song that articulates so perfectly what it is to be depressed. In this performance of the song, you can feel that. The sadness plays all the way through, but the change in the song’s energy level does just as much. And the solo is one of the finest I know.

Smooth – Santana (featuring Rob Thomas)

Speaking of guitar gods, Carlos Santana. It’s no secret to most of the people who know me that I love Matchbox Twenty, the group that made Rob Thomas famous, but I’ve often had trouble with Thomas’ solo stuff. It’s hard to hate this one though. I remember this coming out in 1999 and playing on the radio so much that just about everyone else got sick of it. I just can’t. It’s catchy, and the guitar is timeless.

Hand Me Down – Matchbox Twenty

I have never listened to any song more than I’ve listened to this one. Its play count in my iTunes library — which doesn’t include the CD plays in the car — is somewhere above 300, and I’m still not sick of it. The intensity and sadness of both the music and the vocals are the kind that sounds good at any volume, but sounds best when it’s turned up to eleven. The theme of the song is fairly vague, but the message — you can have all the problems in the world, but when you’re not alone they all look a whole lot smaller — is one I couldn’t agree with more. Fighting loneliness is an everyday battle for me, and I’m not sure why because I have amazing friends and family and a girlfriend of four years who knows me better than I know myself, but in those lonely moments, this song is a savior.

The (Shipped) Gold Standard- Fall Out Boy

Anyone still reading by now is probably sick of my self-pity. Me too. And I’m prone to it. I know that, and that’s why this song is here. I can never remember any of the lyrics but “You can only blame your problems on the world for so long before it all becomes the same old song.” Those words are some of the easiest to remember and hardest — for me — to live. I often find myself thinking I’m the only one who feels the pains I feel and faces the problems I feel, but this song always reminds me otherwise, providing a pick me up along the way.

Please Don’t Tell Her – Jason Mraz

“Please don’t tell her, ’cause she don’t really need to know that I’m crazy like the rest of us, and I’m crazier when I’m next to her.”

Trying to impress a woman from the inside of this mind is no small task. Feeling as frequently and wholly fucked up as I often do, it’s easy for me to keep everyone at arm’s length and never let them fully into my head. Because once someone sees in, the only logical response seems to be to run the other way. “But I know she’d hate me if she knew my words.” Please don’t tell her has a lot in it, but the idea of hiding the inner turmoil from the outside is encapsulated in that first line, and it helps me remember why I keep everyone at arm’s length, and it helps me try to fight that urge.

Run, Baby, Run – Sheryl Crow

When I was a senior in high school, I walked out my house slamming the door behind me. I wouldn’t sleep there again for two years. I thought I might never speak to my mother again, and I felt okay about that. I was angry, and ready to graduate high school and leave town and never come back. One day, when my mother was at work, I came to the house to get some of my things. As I walked through the kitchen, where my mother always leaves music playing, this song was on. I stopped and looked around the house and the chorus swelled. I was sobbing before it was over, and I remembered in that moment that as grown up and independent as I thought I might be, I was still my mom’s son.

Runnin’ Down a Dream – Tom Petty

My mom and I went on a lot of long road trips when I was younger, and one of our favorite albums to listen to in the car was Full Moon Fever. “Runnin’ Down a Dream” was always a favorite of mine, because as we drove (even though it was often just to grandma’s house), I felt like we were living that song, singing along, and enthusiastically strumming along with the acoustic during the chorus. It was damn fun.

Don’t Stop Believin’ – Journey

There are two types of people in this world: Those that rolls their eyes when they hear “Just a small town girl livin’ in a lonely world,” and those that get their air guitars ready. I’m the latter, and anyone getting to know me should be warned in advance: I’m not above dropping to my knees in a public place and cranking out the meanest “Don’t Stop Believin’” air guitar solo you’ve ever seen.

Chicken Fried – Zac Brown Band

I’m a country music hater too. So you can stop rolling your eyes and thinking me a hick. I’m a hybrid. I have a MacBook and a high school diploma, but mowing the lawn on a tractor and target shooting in the backyard are the only true indicators of summer in my eyes. As much as I would’ve told you I hated growing up in that small town, I love that I did. And remembering that the simple, easy stuff you can do without leaving the driveway is often the best stuff to do is important to me. There’s not much that says it better than this song.

Check out the playlist in its entirety below:

Last time around, Harlem River Blues had produced a half exultant, half sorrowful affair.  But there was hope; there was still daylight, happiness tucked away in its little corners.  Nothing’s Gonna Change The Way You Feel About Me Now is much more reserved in its bright spots, more the music of a man in a sorrowful twilight that just had happiness slip through his fingers, the touch still lingering in his mind, the palpable feel.  While some might read the arrangements henceforth on Nothing as characteristically ambiguous, it’s the biggest show of character Justin Townes Earle has had yet.  He’s much more authentic as a man down on his luck, as a character that’s been forgotten and trod upon. The music reflects that: the muted Memphis soul proving equal accompaniment to Townes Earle’s unmistakable voice, and while the opening half of the album might tread a little too softly, the second half of the album is a beauty to unravel, from “Maria” one of Earle’s sweetest aching sorrows yet, to “Movin’ On” a song with a plucky rhythm that is so convincing at telling the listener Earle is just fine, even if he’s not.

More than anything, Nothing’s Gonna Change The Way You Feel About Me Now is an album about what its like to be a man.

Justin Townes Earle is the kind of man that GQ and Esquire love; the dapper sartorial man, a dapper sartorial man who has words of wisdom to boot. He’s a charming man too, despite his former demons – the alcoholic laced night that left him in jail just weeks after his last album came out. His laugh is infectious; it has that warm and inviting quality, a hint of darkness, kind of like the scotch and whiskey that he’s since sworn off. It warms your heart all the same.

The theme of the record, of the man, of what makes him tick, is honesty.

Earle has a gift for combining personal reference and universal feeling. It’s honesty, and it’s consequences laid bare. “Am I Lonely Tonight” is not only about him being alone, but it delves into the ghosts of his past – an absent father, one who he can only identify with through bits and pieces heard on the radio, the horns half mournful, half comforting as he assesses his condition, skin and bones and 300 miles from the Carolina coast. Here is where we find the ghosts of influences past, the haunted Springsteen on Nebraska, the story-telling of traditional country pulled by the roots through the cracked frozen ground.

Earle pushes forward with “Look The Other Way.” A song that would have made Freud proud, the lyrical narrative could be equally directed toward his mother and his lover, arguing with himself on whether he can make himself a better man when the people he cares about don’t care what he does anymore. It’s the narrative that many have traveled before, those who’ve seen love break in front of their eyes, moved by an imaginary hope that believes you dictate the world around you, that the world doesn’t turn without your slightest movement.

It cuts straight to the bone in a man, on “Nothing’s Gonna Change The Way You Feel About Me Now” the album title track, “It’s a shame babe, nothing that you could do, things change babe, such as my feelings for you.” But its more than just a tell off to a love lost: the plaintive, harrowing honesty to his lyrics do nothing to describe his voice, the way it achingly glides over the words like he’s lived it a million times before. It’s a lonely night of a song, something where only the painful memories and drink can be your lone companion.

“Baby’s Got A Bad Idea” is probably the least effective song on the album. Sure it keeps the up-tempo leaning of “Look The Other Way” but this one seems like he’s just painting by the numbers, a filler, but a good filler for sure.  The stellar backing band saves this one, as Earle’s vocals are more ragged than usual.

I didn’t hear “Maria” first from this album (that distinction would go to the title track, which was released prior) but it’s one of my favorites, and it begins the stellar second side of the album. There’s so much feeling, even in the opening trill of the guitars, and Earle’s vocals are at his most affecting and gifted. He lives the words to the point that in your mind he’s not singing them, it’s your own thoughts. This is the horn section’s shining moment too, pulling off a counter-melody midway through, with the effect that the Memphis sound has never sounded so moody and bright.

The intro of “Down on the Lower East Side” is almost startling, but Earle does well here to paint a portrait of the universality of urbanity. It doesn’t matter whether it’s Memphis or Manhattan, men will always be men, and they’ll always find the romanticism of a dimly lit street in the early morning hours, reflected here by a rather lovely solitary trumpet, muted and warm, a comfort in the cold and lonely streets.

“Won’t Be The Last Time” is a change of pace, some would call it plodding, but the hushed arrangement only makes Earle’s delivery that much more honest, that much more humble, and that much more hurt. The music pushes against the slow vocals like the world that is ever slipping from his grasp as his words sound like a man sitting next to you at the bar, removed from their backing, more personal than ever.

Then, with the chime of a bubbling organ, that Memphis sound is back in “Memphis In The Rain”. The arrangement here is in full swing with some percolating guitars and horn lines that embrace the listener in their southern soul happiness. If Dylan had ever done Memphis, this wouldn’t have been out of place on that record.

Following up on his innate ability to mirror the greatest writers in the American Songbook, “Unfortunately, Anna” sounds like a response to the characters of Paul Simon’s “Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes” where the bright hope of youth has started to fade, the melody a ghostly echo in his vocals. The sound is that of dying hopes, but it’s a beautiful sadness that seeps through the imagery in this song, and it will probably be the slept on classic of this album, and certainly be held in high regard long after Earle’s career is over. For a man steeped in traditions, this is one of his most timeless songs.

The album closer is the bouncy “Movin’ On”, where Earle’s vocals do a slow dance with the rhythm of the guitars. It’s Earle’s gift that he can be so catchy and so intimate at the same time. It’s the sunshine peaking out after a rainy sleepless night, more of a toe-tapper than the rest of the album, and certainly one of the better songs in his career.

Critics had mixed feelings about the overall sound of this album: some thought that the Memphis sound had been too dulled, that the album was more in stasis than the rest of his work, but I’m among the few that believe that it was an intentional move. Memphis Soul has never sounded so good surrounded by doubt, and the band works as one. Even the upright bass proves to be melodic where the horns disappear, and Earle has never come across more open and humbled, never sounded more like his own man.

There will be those that find this album too honest, too heartbreaking and true to man’s condition that they won’t be able to stand it, but there will be others that relish Justin Townes Earle’s true gift; the storytelling of Springsteen and the honesty and pain of Lennon all rolled into one, the ability to sing out his own demons and connect with the world. The gift and the pain of being a man.
Vocals: 4/5

Lyrics: 4.5/5

Arrangement: 4.5/5

Overall: 8.6/10

Top Songs: “Maria”, “Down on the Lower East Side”, “Unfortunately, Anna“, “Memphis In the Rain“

Nothing’s Gonna Change The Way You Feel About Me Now was released today, Tuesday, March 27th, on Bloodshot Records.

THE END OF LEGENDS

The narrative for the eventual Beatle break-up has two well-trodden beginnings: the death of Brian Epstein and the emergence of Yoko Ono –  with neither one placing blame on The Beatles themselves. In the ashes of the break-up such thought was heresy. The Beatles were musical gods, the Lennon-McCartney partnership etched into musical history. They had saved a generation from the death of Camelot, and no one could believe that the members of the inner circle were capable of their own undoing. Such was the power of The Beatles that individualism could not be deemed the cause. The heart played tricks on The Beatle-loving public, and even as time wore on the blame kept landing on individuals outside of the fabulous foursome.

Even with the lavish attention that was fostered on the quartet, we, the public, only had glimpses of each band member’s desires. Let It Be showed the band under tremendous strain, but we insisted that the arm-twisting of McCartney only be seen as him trying to keep the band together, rather than driving it apart.

Yet The Beatles were four men, and only four men, replete with differing ideas, who had nonetheless worked together well enough to coalesce into a sound that defined an era. Men can only be human, their acts the only thing that becomes immortal.  The Beatles had slipped the reins of being individual members; they were an entity that couldn’t possibly fall victim to human error. Such is the cruelty of the heart. They officially broke up in April of 1970, but their identity would forever linger, a ghost that would haunt their individual lives and careers as long as teach had a mortal coil.

OUT OF THE ASHES

It is difficult to imagine the immense struggle they must have faced. There was, after all, no historical precedent: entertainers before had only to live up to the ghosts of their own creations, not the collective creation of a band that benefitted from their own surroundings, that had adapted so well to the ever-shifting culture, that had seared an indelible mark on everything around them.  What mere mortal, thrown from the ivory towers of the gods, could survive becoming, once again, earth-bound?”

Paul McCartney was such a man. No doubt the rift had caused considerable depression, much of it evident in his last numbers with the group that had launched him into stardom: “Oh Darling,” “Two of Us,” “The Long and Winding Road,” — even “Let It Be” spoke of the pain, the guilt, the remorse, remembrance, and refuge that McCartney sought in his creative world, as his reality crumbled beneath him. McCartney was also a driven man; his desire to be adored and remembered, the vices of lesser ilk, would propel him once again to reshape his own identity out of the ashes.

At their death knell, The Beatles were a group of prodigious production. Having long tired of touring, they had made the studio their religion as they endlessly tried to improve upon current techniques, to stretch the limits of what was possible. The end results were their own idols, golden images that reflected their drive and ability.

McCartney would be, could only be the exact opposite. Abbey Road was not yet a year old, and as their ultimate product it might have been their best — no single overdub out of place, no piece over-produced, the sound destined to live on beyond its own creators, god-like.

Of the Four, none could be better suited for the challenge than Paul McCartney. His father a jazz musician, McCartney’s ear for melody and ability with instruments was unmatched in the group. It was he who showed the most interest in production and had the greatest knack for it. (One example is the geese-like sound that floats above “Tomorrow Never Knows,” which was the end product of McCartney recording himself laughing and messing with the tape loops.)

Dismayed with the Let It Be sessions, McCartney retreated to his home to record something “back to basics,” armed only with the instruments he owned and the 4-track recorder that he kept in his living room. At the start he was a Beatle, but when he released the finished product, he ran it with a press release that announced his tenure with the group was over.

The album begins with the man in love. “The Lovely Linda” is a little acoustic jaunt that was recorded in McCartney’s living room. The high pitched squeak is actually the sound of the living room door being opened by Linda herself and although its a fragment, it builds the foundation for the theme of the album; ramshackle, intimate, and off the cuff.  McCartney didn’t give a damn, he just wanted to see what he could do on his own

“That Would Be Something” is really where McCartney takes off. The song starts with a lone bluesy guitar riff that manages both to reflect McCartney’s situation and show off his musical talent, filling out with both acoustic and vocal percussion and some smooth bass work. But it’s McCartney’s Elvis-like croon that steals the show. Having had to live under the constant pressure of innovating while in The Beatles, McCartney’s reverence for the older styles really shows in this laid back performance.

And then comes the wordless “Valentine’s Day,” a succinct jam under 2 minutes that if anything proves McCartney’s talent with melody. Not a single other Beatle could have gotten away with not using his voice and “Valentine’s Day” is aware of that: its guitar caustic and biting, the drumming rapid, a kiss-off to the other members as if to say, “Well look what I can do, even without you.”

McCartney, even in his Beatle years, rarely sang in the first person, which is a shame, because he’s quite good at it. “Every Night” might be the best song on the album (if it weren’t for a little thing called “Junk” and “Maybe I’m Amazed”). Truly a portrait of himself at the time, it’s quite lyrically clever that McCartney makes the point that he wants to escape the ‘every nights,’ for the singular moments where he’s just with the one he loves. As a little kid I was enthralled with this arrangement, the off-beat boom hiccup of the snare and that wordless refrain driving the point home and making it one of McCartney’s most endearing and independent songs on record.

“Hot As Sun/ Glasses” marks an interesting point in the album; it’s another instrumental and again as melodic as anything McCartney ever made, and it’s a great homage to the classic fifties progressions (think Buddy Holly) as well as a quick foray into new sounds (that summery organ), John Cage (the classical dissonance), and musique-concrete (the snippet of “Suicide” — a demo he left off the album).

McCartney has a gift with acoustic guitars; intertwined with his voice, they become him when he’s at his most wistful (see  ”Yesterday,” “Blackbird,” “Her Majesty,” “Mother Nature’s Son,” “I Will,” even as far back as “I’ll Follow The Sun”), and no example might be more powerful than “Junk.” The song that might as well have instigated Elliot Smith’s whole career it’s a beautiful piece of McCartney’s third person story telling that manages to make even the blandest objects alive and heart wrenching.  Only (fittingly) Rogers and Hammerstein ever made ordinary things as equally charming in “My Favorite Things.” Even before the chorus, just in the way McCartney gently lulls “Motor cars, Handle Bars, Bicycles for two,” you sense the immediate sadness, the forlorn nature of these objects without mentioning another word. Such is the power of McCartney’s music.

The next number might be the most jaunty and uplifting of the whole album. “Man We Was Lonely” begins with a beautiful intro that sounds eerily close to the chord progression Lennon himself would use on his ruminating “Love.” The way the melody melts into the chords, and even Linda’s vocals (long a point of contention among solo McCartney apologists) are put to good use here. McCartney’s vocal talent is on display too, using two very different takes to juxtapose past and present, reminiscence and moving on.

If it weren’t for McCartney’s unmistakable voice, in the context of todays music, you could sneak “That Would Be Something” and this next number “Oo You” onto a White Stripes –  maybe even early Black Keys –  compilation and people wouldn’t know the difference. It’s a connection that doesn’t strike right away, but it becomes obvious when put to light. Listen to how McCartney plays the guitar part, even the sound: isolated, instantly bluesy, and referential to the old Delta blues players that came before him. In describing McCartney’s ability to be the everyman and play all the instruments, an assumption is made that he can’t be exceptional at all or any of them, but he is.

It is with little warning that McCartney comes back to roughshod roots; the rollicking “Momma Miss America” is a bouncy instrumental. McCartney has never tried to set the world on fire with lyrical wordplay; rahter, these musical sketches are a more fitting portrait. His mission was never to enlighten, never overwrought with messages (both of which would befall Lennon and Harrison) but he sought to lighten, to engage the listener with the joy of the music itself. One can find many examples of simple toss-off lyrics in McCartney’s career, but there are few examples of melodies that don’t grab your attention.

If this album is to have a dud, it would be “Teddy Boy,” but even this is a prime example of the above. Listen to the song just once and try not to hum the melody, and even with that caveat, it’s not a bad song; the touches in production help as well, with the subtle backing harmonies, the soft patter of the drums, the ad-lib ending. It’s a nice little harmless tune and that’s all it was meant to be.

“Sing Along Junk” shows just how pure a melody “Junk” was. Even without the lyrics this (admittedly more produced) version puts the words in your head with the guitar alone, but it’s nice to hear the piano and guitar bounce the melody back and forth.

Out of the depths, we find McCartney at his most ragged on the beautiful “Maybe I’m Amazed,” his voice hoarse and pleading, the vocals both universal and intimate, and that guitar hook one for the ages. Few times have we seen the man as barely composed as he plays here, every shred of his soul put into every instrument, and its a nice touch that this song could be both about a friend and a lover (as it probably was). The way the arrangement builds is cinematic and personally reflective, the piano transforms from a sad waltz to a rock and roll pounding, the guitars plead and choke, and the drums go back and forth from put together to off-kilter. It’s the song that would come to define the album, despite the difference in sound.

“Kreen-Akrore” is a highly unusual number for any version of McCartney, Beatle or otherwise.  To start, it’s percussion-based, and the groove starts out in a New Orleans fashion before some left-field production elements join the fray, and then a McCartney drum solo! It’s not all bad stuff. In fact the Beach-Boys-meets-Indian drone harmonies make quite an interesting draw midway through. It’s just so singularly unique in McCartney’s catalogue, too far ahead of its time.

McCartney managed to do the impossible: it took a God and made him a man, humanized him, and defined his sound.  Nothing on the album sounds like it could have fit on a Beatles record, and yet it’s a welcome idea. While All Things Must Pass and Plastic Ono Band had better critical response, McCartney is the underrated winner of the bunch. Harrison’s All Things becomes too self-aggrandizing, and its production often mires the good songs that are on it, while Lennon’s Plastic Ono Band  is almost too honest and caustic to listen to in one sitting.

McCartney found his calling in creating music that soothes, and an album that can be played from start to finish without wearing out its welcome. Ram will still be my favorite solo album of his, where he took all the best little bits from McCartney and put it into a finished product, but no other product in The Beatles catalog, solo or otherwise, quite reaches the comfort and charm of this one.

It’s also a highly influential record, you can see where Elliot Smith and Jack White found their bearings from McCartney, and even with its lo-fi aesthetic (barring “Maybe I’m Amazed”)  it’s a highly ambitious (and successful, reaching #2 in 1970) record. McCartney combines the man behind the music with the power of his music (and a bevy of styles and influences from old time blues to musique-concrete), assuring that even in the ashes of the greatest pop group of all time, there was music to be made.

On August 25th, 1975, Bruce Springsteen’s musical career changed forever. Born to Run was a triumph of encapsulating the motifs of the American Dream, the hope of the future versus the world weary reality, the desire to make something out of nothing and never look back, audiences took to it immediately and a star was born.  Many thought that this Jersey boy had come out of nowhere (he had) and that this was a stunning debut (it wasn’t).  The genius of Born to Run lay in its absolute desperation, it’s all or nothing grandeur that was indeed the result of an artist taking his last shot at stardom, doomed to fade to obscurity if he failed.  The tales that came out of this recording were legendary, it took two years to make the album, with a good 6 months spent on the title track, complete with 12 guitar overdubs and a change in production and management halfway through.  The guitar slinger from Jersey had finally found critical and popular success, yet Springsteen had already touched upon the themes so heralded in Born to Run, and it was The Wild, The Innocent and the E Street Shuffle that had brought him there.

Music talent scout John Hammond had found the young man from Jersey 3 years prior, in the midst of Columbia Record’s desperate search for a “new Bob Dylan” and immediately set about releasing a debut record which would be entitled Greetings from Asbury Park, N.J. only to have it fall on deaf ears, despite its critical success.  Part of the problem lay in the label’s handling of Bruce Springsteen’s talent, they wanted it to be a solo effort, while Springsteen wanted a full band effort. The result was a split down the middle, and it was clear that Springsteen flourished more with a fleshed out sound, the two full acoustic numbers “Mary, Queen of Arkansas” and “The Angel” are probably among the most dispassionate releases in Springsteen’s catalogue and out of place among the Technicolor musical lyricism that brought numbers “Blinded By The Light” and “It’s Hard To Be A Saint in the City” to life.  ”The New Bob Dylan” couldn’t have seemed like a worse label, Dylan had made his craft with confessional poetry and folk.  Springsteen seemed more like the nighthawks and the beatniks, choosing his prose to illustrate characters and crafting novellas, not narratives. Undeterred by the pressure of his label, and perhaps even more motivated by his lack of success, Springsteen would enter into the studio again and in a matter of months come out with his most vivacious release in his career, The Wild, The Innocent and The E Street Shuffle.

What makes The Wild, The Innocent and The E Street Shuffle such an interesting case study is it’s a combination of the  joys of youth and the recognition of its mortality.  Never again would Springsteen show as much youthful swagger and intensity as he would here. Even more, it’s a concept album, never again would the joy, the doubt, the passion and anger of one’s teenage years play out so well on a record.

It all begins with “The E Street Shuffle”.  Imagine the black of a movie screen right before it bursts into color. Its truly a block party come to life with funky clavinets, swaggering horns and character names straight out of film noir. In many ways “Shuffle” is a precursor to “Tenth Avenue Freeze-out, Power Thirteen equal to Bad Scooter, both searching for their groove. Everybody form a line indeed.

“4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy)” is a gorgeous ballad that follows, shedding a light on the influence for the album title. The Wild, The Innocent was a movie that shared Springsteen’s theme of naive adolescents striving towards adulthood, moving from a small town to the city.  It’s no coincidence that the character shift takes place during a party held during the 4th of July. And the actress playing Rosalie? None other than Sandra Dee.

Lust could be a more apt title for the jazzy and energetic “Kitty’s Back”. Bruce’s guitar screams passion, while the horns and jazzy organ and propulsive drum-work all collide in a kaleidoscopic frenzy that would fall apart under a lesser band, but the dynamic’s here are top notch and the music really illustrates the hopelessness of the narrator to his situation when he croons “Oh, what can I do?”

There’s an abrupt change of pace with “Wild Billy’s Circus Story” where Bruce tries to put on his best Bob Dylan cap.  I think it was a mis-step to open the song with a tuba, it was sure to scare off most people at the beginning of the song which is a shame, because “Wild Billy’s Circus Story” turns into one of Springsteen’s better narratives and one that would be much more appreciated in the hands of someone like Tom Waits. The choice of setting is no coincidence either, the circus is a crossroads of innocence and adulthood, separated merely by the workers and the watchers,and I think that’s what Springsteen was going for here.

Few songs in Springsteen’s catalogue can match the pure beauty of “Incident on 57th Street”. The intro is a delicate ballet of piano and electric guitar that tip-toes back and forth before bursting to life, foreshadowing the dance the doomed characters of Spanish Johnny and Puerto Rican Jane. There’s so many good lines here and all the bluster and romanticism coupled with the stasis and desire to make something that comes with growing up is packed into this almost 8:00 song, even the backing harmonies (which you rarely hear on a Springsteen number) are beautiful. And then like a dream, the piano drifts back into the frame, setting the stage for one of the most legendary Springsteen songs ever.

Music can barely contain the feeling that comes with “Rosalita (Come Out Tonight)”, you know that it’s just going to be packed with energy from the beginning. The music is the soundtrack to all the best nights you’ve ever had rolled into one, propelled at such a break-neck speed that it’s utterly baffling to imagine how this band contained it. Can you just imagine being in the studio for this? It’s more than lust as the narrator says “Baby, you’re my strong desire” though the sexual notes in the song are a strong influence. Case in point “blind-man’s bluff is a little baby’s game” could easily be interpreted as such that the amateur fooling around of teenagers (the game is about one being blindfolded trying to touch people) is no longer enough to satisfy. In fact, I think that is the point. Sexual rebellion plain and simple, but rarely has the musical interpretation seemed more fun than the  activity itself.  It’s also interesting to note that Springsteen takes a line from Vergil here, “Someday we’ll look back and it will all seem funny” effectively equating the foundation of Rome with sexual liberty.

The last song “New York City Serenade” is both a fitting ode to New York City and a swan song to one of the E Street Band’s founding members, David Sancious, the pianist who puts on a dazzling display in the intro to this song, ranging from jazz blues to classical and back before teaming up with Bruce’s acoustic guitar in a heartbreaking duet. The narrative fleshes out a young man Billy, as his transformation from naive youth to young adult takes hold. Life, like New York City, the narrator says “is a mad dog’s promenade, so walk tall, or don’t walk at all”.  The arrangement is dazzling, with sounds of the city and changes all over the place and it’s a fitting goodbye to youth. “Save your notes, don’t spend them on the blues boy”

So why did I choose this album?

Too often, the myth of Bruce Springsteen begins “After two critically acclaimed but commercially unpopular albums…..” and while that may be true in popular acclaim, The Wild, The Innocent, and The E Street Shuffle is a fantastic album and full of everything that made Bruce Springsteen a talent for the ages. While it might not have had the grandeur of Born To Run it is a much more authentic portrait of the odyssey of youth breaking into adulthood, the yearning, the romanticism, the sexual desire, nothing is glossed over here. Not to mention the arrangements on all of the songs here are fantastic and it brings up a fascinating what if? What if this album had been successful? After The Wild, The Innocent, and The E Street Shuffle Springsteen’s arrangements would never go for this vivid approach. Springsteen is one of the few artists that got less complex in musicianship from his debut onward.  The E Street band here is in top form and while it doesn’t feature the bombast that would be their key signature on later albums, they show a clear mastery of musicianship that doesn’t rely on studio trickery.  Not to mention Springsteen was a youthful 23 at the time, playing beyond his years.

It’s truly a fascinating album, Springsteen’s influences are ripe here, with the wordplay of Pulp novels and West Side Story, the switchblade knives and ne’er do well youths, the films of the 50s and the blinding romanticism of there will be something better while looking back. There’s nothing else quite like it on any other musical album.

Top Picks:
The E Street Shuffle- Bruce Springsteen

Incident on 57th Street- Bruce Springsteen

Rosalita (Come Out Tonight)- Bruce Springsteen

Both albums boast some of the most gorgeous production of any album in the aught’s. Beck’s is more grand in scope, with lush arrangements dominating the entire affair; spaced out acoustic guitars, twinkling electric guitars, shuffled drumming, all allowing his haunted voice to take the fold.  The National take a much more concentrated approach, putting their production eggs in separate baskets.

The National formed in 1999, in the echoes of the dot com boom in bustling New York City, though they had met back in Cincinnati, “home to Pete Rose and the first Filet-O-Fish” drummer Bryan Devendorf would affectionately remark. when they released their self-titled debut album two years later, they had hardly played a gig. The National did not fall on deaf ears however, earning praise from critics like Jason MacNeil of No Depression stating “From the opening notes of “Beautiful Head”, the delicate line between polished roots-oriented pop and alt-country has rarely been walked so deliberately with the payoff so favorable.” Already the quintet which featured two sets of twins, was becoming more than just a novelty.
Certainly their subject matter wasn’t. Matt Berninger was a crepuscular narrator, a character out of Frank Sinatra’s In The Wee Small Hours, perpetually falling in and out of love, perpetually the victim of the sadness of broken-down bar life.   “Do not tell me I’ve changed” he sighs on one number “you’re just raising your standards, do not give me away”.  Berninger’s oblique poetry is often a victim of intelligent design, a sad acknowledgement that he is responsible for things that he can not understand. For a follow up album, the question became how does an emotionally mature band improve? The answers on Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers are simple; production and focus.

The National  was an album of simple arrangements, bar bruised rock with emotion harvested from Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska and poetry borrowed from the likes of Leonard Cohen and Tom Waits. Then came Sad Songs For Dirty Lovers:

The opener “Cardinal Song” is a gorgeous mind bender, a fraternal twin to the Sea Change sound that launched Beck into the critical stratosphere.  Here, Berninger’s vocals are so up front in the recording that its not only the mic that he’s cradling, but the listener’s ear.  His voice hushed, half whispering, half admonishing “Never look them in the eye, never tell the truth.” It’s an emotional tour-de-force and a lesson for humanity. “Jesus Christ you have confused me, Cornered, wasted, blessed, and used me” Berninger croons amidst wise words “Never tell the one you love that you do, Save it for the deathbed, And do everything she’d never do.”

“Slipping Husband” takes an immediate turn to straightforward rock, “You could have been a legend but you became a father, that’s what you are today, that’s what you are today.” Berninger converses, a narrator speaking to himself in the third person.  It’s a dark take on a dream deferred but a convincing one, equating thinking of what could have been as “acting like a kid.”

“90-Mile Water Wall”  is a clear highlight, and it drips like a classic western, a “Lonesome Dove” in winter’s twilight. ” Well I know that you know that you’ve become the target of this hand, with never even asking.” It’s a great table setter for some of Berninger’s greatest lyrics, the action constantly overwhelming the ability to react. The arrangement truly shines here, bolstered by some great violin and guitar interplay, upfront and utterly transparent, a Cormac McCarthy novel in song form.

“It Never Happened” is a dark brood on the end of youth “We look younger than we feel, and older than we are” declares the narrator, pleading “Lover put me in your beautiful bed, and cover me” where the song dovetails into a swirling instrumental from Dark Side of the Moon.  because “nothing ever happens to the beautiful.”

“Murder Me Rachel” is where things start to get more caustic. Wiry guitars scream and hum reflecting the hurt of the narrator who’s glimpsed his old flame with a new “pretty boy”.  ”Say goodbye to pretty boy” he warns, the admittance that he “loved her to ribbons” is a haunting image, an instant connection between the pretty little garnishments and his love being cut and slashed into little pieces. It’s purposeful that pretty boy could be both the narrator and the faceless competitor and it’s the fiercest song on the album.

“Thirsty” is a natural progression from the anger that burst to the surface in “Murder Me Rachel” it’s intensely guarded, referencing fairytales and using alliterative imagery. It’s fitting that the narrator feels weak referencing his “girly arms” and can neither “have a hawk in [his] heart” nor a “dumbass dove in [his] brain”. The shock of the development in “Murder Me Rachel” has left him aimless and defenseless.

“Available” is lyrically two-fold, both a diatribe against a faceless one-night stand, and against his former lover. “Did you dress me down and liquor me up, To make me last for the one minute, When the red comes over you, Like it does when you’re filled with love, Or whatever you call it.” That poor soul that dared take this brooding man home for what was supposed to be a simple night of fun.

The next two songs, “Sugar Wife” and “Trophy Wife” eschew the traditional gender roles and reverse them. “Sugar Wife” is a plea for a wife to make him a man, an ironic twist on the usual role of a Sugar Daddy. He wants to become a dad, pushing for a semblance of meaning. The arrangement here too reflects a lighter mood with some warm harmonies and golden guitar.

“Trophy Wife” is another push at breaking from the sadness and anger that enveloped the narrator, but grounded in the fact that “No one wants to be, no no ones lover, No matter what they say, Lovers know they are the ones, Who one day have to go.”

“Fashion Coat” is a song of juxtapositions, a man who “floats around [his] city” but remains grounded by the fact that “everywhere [he is] is just another place without you in it” is filled with desire to do everything to his lover but is fearful of her falling in love, or out of it.  The chorus “I die fast in this city, Outside I die slow” is a reflection of being around the woman he loves, versus when he’s without her.

“Patterns of Fairytales” brings us back to the production of “Cardinal Song”, with a swirling organ and gorgeous guitar work amidst wistful lyrics about a woman gone. The narrator resolves to lie in bed and listen to the music he once made for his love, the memories they once had “And I’m lining up the names, On the mixes I made before you, And I’m turning into fairytales, With glitter and some glue, Everything we ever planned to ever do.”

“Lucky You” ends the album, a slow build of a song with relatively bare production, shimmering acoustic, glimmering electric guitars with a wicked twist on declaring love to someone. “You own me, There’s nothing you can do, You own me, Lucky you.”

More than anything, Sad Songs For Dirty Albums is a reflection on relationships, on the highs and the lows, the being in love and being out of love, but it’s not just your typical breakup album. Bereninger’s narrators reflect and commiserate,  juxtaposing the dark reality with the glowing hope, the burn of anger, the shadow of sadness. More than any other, it’s a distinctly human album. The sonic landscape is a city at night, with those that linger long after others have gone to sleep, who meander, wonder, try to shake the reality from their lives. These are the people who brood, drink to take the edge off, youth at its death knell as the depression of adulthood takes over.While Bruce Springsteen was best at reflecting on the burning hope of teenage youth, and the results of falling short of those goals, The National are experts in the agony of adulthood, of trying to mature where hope has deserted you.

Notes On: Production

As a listener, I find texture to be a highly undervalued commodity when it comes to an album, even when they prove to be instrumental in deciphering what makes a good album. Blonde on Blonde had its mercurial electric through a transistor sound, Abbey Road was almost symphonic in its production values, pushing the songs to greater effect with their grandiosity, Dark Side of the Moon had a polish that reverberated off the moon and back. The best albums are linked not only by great songwriting, but cohesive production. On Sad Songs For Dirty Lovers, the production, much like the lyrical content, is largely organic, shading compositions with fantastical elements when the mood calls for it, “Cardinal Song” would be much less effective without the atmosphere thats laid along side it.  That’s what makes it such a dynamic record, everything is in its right place.

Album Highlights:

Cardinal Song

90-Mile Water Wall

Patterns of Fairytales

Lucky You 

The album begins with “Give Me an Inch”, a title worked around the phrase “give them an inch and they’ll take a mile” and the intro is pure 70′s strings and flutes, but Jamerson’s excellent bass line and Palmer’s vocal arrangement keep the song from delving into pure schmaltz.

“Work To Make It Work” is a rather fun number that follows, with a propulsive vocal round for an intro before the band drops into pure funk mode with clavinets and horns filling out the arrangement and Palmer putting on his best James Brown impression. Proof in the pudding that all the work Palmer and the band puts here truly does make it work.

“Back in My Arms” returns to the “Give Me an Inch” formula, but again Palmer’s sheer enthusiasm and energy keeps the song lively along with some great guitar work by Paul Barrere and Lowell George anchored by James Jamerson’s deftly plucked bass lines.

“Riverboat” finds Palmer returning to an Allen Toussaint cover while Little Feat is given full reign over the arrangement, the guitars burn, the piano shines and the rhythm section is full of the dynamics that made Little Feat such a great live band, and it’s a welcome change of pace to the record.

“Pressure Drop” comes up next, and boy do Palmer and Little Feat own this cover with warm vocal harmonies and a great off-kilter popping rhythm. Palmer’s vocal talents are on full display here, his talent for propelling a band to get in the zone and having great fun tearing into a cover (the piano solo here is a must), an absolute highlight.

On the original vinyl, “Pressure Drop” ends Side One, and the next track would begin Side Two.

“Here With You Tonight” starts off with a motoring hum of guitar as the arrangement takes off, anchored by a strong horn section and features Palmer’s great vocal work. Little Feat’s guitar section once again shines, the warm production suiting their burning tones perfectly and the pocket drumming and bass interplay is fantastic.

“Trouble” begins with a tuba and piano of all things, but one thing’s for sure in that it’s clearly a Little Feat number but it’s no mistake that Palmer hooked up with this band because their chemistry is fantastic and it’s always fun to follow along with Lowell George’s tongue-in-cheek lyrics.

“Fine Time” is the album’s steller track (only because “Pressure Drop” is a cover) with a false start and Palmer’s vocal count in starting this absolutely burning groove. While the tempo may be slower, the band matches the intensity of the arrangement on “Sneakin’ Sally Through the Alley” with every player in top form, like coals on the fire, constantly smoldering,  the organ coming to a peak with a great solo while the funky rhythm section (the drums are a highlight here) never trying to steal the spotlight. It’s truly Palmer’s vocal performance however, that turns this song into a classic, swooping in and out of the arrangement, not only holding down the groove but taking it to new heights. If you loved Sneakin’ Sally Through The Alley, this is a must have.

“Which of Us Is The Fool” brings the album to a close, which is really unfortunate because the end of Side One and the beginning of Side Two were really kicking things into high gear and despite the immaculate arrangement here, the return to the smooth sound sounds out of place. Don’t let that detract from the actual song, James Jamerson is in top form here with his indelible bass line leading the way and Palmer’s vocals showcase his ability being able to handle both gritty and soft numbers, even the strings here don’t sound schmaltzy. Despite the initial shock from the change of pace, it’s a great album ender.

Label: Island Records

Release Date: 1976

Run Time: 36:54

Vocals: 9.5/10

Production: 10/10

Lyrics: 8/10

Overall: 9.2/10

Top Tracks: 

Work to Make It Work- Robert Palmer

Pressure Drop- Robert Palmer

Here With You Tonight- Robert Palmer

Fine Time- Robert Palmer

Other Notes:

Despite the missteps in the overall album cohesion, “Riverboat” to “Fine Time” present Robert Palmer and company as a band at their best, the energy apparent, and the glowing production really makes these songs stand out, even on computer speakers. It’s also great to see James Jamerson getting credit for once, especially on an album outside of Motown (The much maligned Motown band gets a great profile in Standing in the Shadows of Motown, which chronicles how Berry Gordy wouldn’t give the band credit on arrangements and didn’t allow the band to play on outside labels).

Pressure Drop is where we really start to see Palmer’s eclectic try to mesh together on an album, but to his credit only “Back in My Arms”  (due to the lyrical content) really falls victim to the schmaltz (and just barely) that typifies the arrangements on “Give Me an Inch” and “Which Of Us Is The Fool”. It also begs the question what if Sneakin’ Sally Through The Alley and Pressure Drop had been more successful?(Some People Can Do What They Like would follow, but would prove to be the nail in the coffin after little financial success) Sadly it’s little more than a footnote now as Palmer would be transformed by “Bad Case of Loving You”, “Simply Irresistible”, and “Addicted To Love” none of which would feature a band as talented as The Meters or Little Feat (Though Double Fun‘s “Every Kinda People” would be an under-looked Robert Palmer highlight). Yet Pressure Drop still remains as proof of a great band in action.

Album Credits:

Unfortunately, the liner notes are not nearly as specific in terms of song to song but never the less:

Give Me An Inch

(Palmer)

Work To Make It Work

(Palmer)

Back in My Arms 

(Palmer)

Riverboat

(Toussaint)

Pressure Drop

(Hibbert)

Here With You Tonight

(Palmer/Gage)

Trouble

(Lowell George)

Fine Time

(Palmer)

Which of Us is the Fool

(Palmer)

Produced by: Steve Smith

Engineered and mixed by: Phil Brown

Guitar: Paul Barrere and Lowell George

Bass: Kenny Gradney and James Jamerson

Drums: Richie Hayward and Ed Greene

Keyboards: Bill Payne

Clavinet: Jean Rousseau and Gordon Dewitte

Congas: Sam Clayton and Ed Greene

Percussion: Richie Hayward, Ed Greene and Robert Palmer

Strings: Gene Page

Horns: Muscle Shoals Horns, Mel Collins, Mongezi Feza and Ray Allen

Voices:  Paul Barrere, Sam Clayton, Richie Hayward, Vicki Brown, Robert Palmer and Fran Tate

Harp: David Snell

Flageolet: Mongezi Feza

Banjo: Joe Brown

Harmonica: Steve York

Tuba: Martin Frye

One of the most amazing facts of stumbling upon his 1974 release Sneakin’ Sally Through The Alley is the fact that this little known expat managed to lock down both The Meters and members of Little Feat, along with session greats like Cornell Dupree and Bernard Purdie to back him through an extraordinarily funky trip down NOLA inspired, hot-laced grooves. Palmer oozes charisma, and he makes clear right away that he is an excellent interpreter of other’s songs, feeling comfortable handling everything from Little Feat drug odes to Allen Toussaint R&B, mixing in his own songs with nary a change of pace.

The album begins with “The Trilogy”, the three song sequence of “Sailing Shoes”, “Hey Julia”, and “Sneakin’ Sally Through The Alley”. To say that this is the highlight of the album is both an understatement and an overstatement (because the album is so good overall). The groove utterly smokes, building to a crescendo in the midst of the title track.

“Sailing Shoes” begins the album with some funky guitar and keyboard work, along with George Porter Jr. and Zig Modeliste of the Meters propelling the slow burn rhythm.  Palmer’s vocals twist and burn with intensity that is every bit Lowell George’s equal and the interplay between vocalist and band is tremendous, before they segue into the vocally driven “Hey Julia”.

“Hey Julia” is a Palmer original, and despite being recorded in an entirely different studio with an entirely different band, the song is the glue between “Sailing” and “Sneakin’ ” complete with a funky bassline and marimba interplay (played by Palmer himself) along with some dissonant harmonies that just work.

“Sneakin’ Sally Through The Alley” is an absolute must hear, and not just for the seamless transition back to the Meters and Lowell George backed band, but for the vocal workout that Palmer puts into this Toussaint cover.  Palmer completely owns this track, his vocal coaxes and growls propelling the band to stratospheric energy and dynamic interplay.  Anyone who is a fan of music should listen to this song, it’s one of the few things Phish did right in bringing attention to a whole new world of fans, but they will never match this groove.

After any song as phenominal as “Sneakin’ ” there’s bound to be a let down whether or not the song quality goes down, so “Get Outside” is maligned by trying to follow such a high energy song, despite its best intentions. “Outside” tries to take the album in a different direction, a slow interloping bass groove with some great piano flourishes and backing vocals.

“Blackmail” is the underlooked highlight on the album, a piece cowritten by Palmer and Lowell George, which has George’s lyrical fingerprints over it.  The NOLA horns is a nice touch, along with the barrelhouse piano, and its a complete change of pace from “Get Outside” in the best way, despite having a pretty much identical band lineup.

“How Much Fun” would forgive you if you thought it was Little Feat playing backing band to this Robert Palmer written number, but again it’s The Meters laying down the groove on this jovial, bouncing number that features a flagfolet of all things in its off beat groove. Another highlight among many on this album.

“From A Whisper To A Scream” returns Palmer and co. to an Allen Toussaint cover and the band really reigns it in here, the drumming is front and center and tight in the pocket, while Lowell George lays down some really nice fill work with his legendary slide sound picking up the rises and falls of the arrangement.

“Through It All There’s You” surprised me when I found out it was written by Palmer, a solid funk groove that stretches out for 12 minutes, featuring Palmer laying down his smoothest vocal on the whole album, along with laying down some rhythm guitar.  ”Through It All” even features Steven Winwood assisting on the piano, but the groove that Bernard Purdie lays down on the drums deserves to be among the greatest funk grooves laid down in history.

Final Notes:

The album as a whole features great production with a distinct warm sound, a testament to all of the people involved on making the album, even with the different studios (one in New Orleans, one in NYC, and one in Nassau) and different players involved, the album keeps a consistent mood and proves that Palmer had a talent that was sadly slept on by the public for many years.

Label: Island Records

Release Date: 1974

Run Time: 35:24

Vocals: 9/10

Lyrics: 9/10

Production: 10/10

Overall Rating: 9.3/10

Top Tracks: All of the Above, but especially “The Trilogy”

Sailing Shoes- Robert Palmer

Hey Julia- Robert Palmer

Sneakin’ Sally Through The Alley- Robert Palmer

Album Credits:

Sailing Shoes:

(Lowell George)

George Porter, Jr., bass

 Leo Neocentelli, guitar

 Lowell George, guitar

Art Neville, keyboards

Zig Modeliste, drums

Robert Palmer & Vicki Brown, backing vocals

The Meters, rhythm section

Hey Julia:

(Robert Palmer)

Robert Palmer, bass, marimbas & percussion

Jim Mullen, guitar

Robert Palmer & Vicki Brown, backing vocals

Jody Brown, percussion

Sneakin’ Sally Through The Alley:

(Allen Toussaint)

The Meters, rhythm section

Lowell George, guitars

Steve York, harmonica

Jody Brown, percussion

Robert Palmer, backing vocals

Get Outside:

(Robert Palmer)

Richard Tee, piano

Bernard Purdie, drums

Cornell Dupree, guitars

Lowell George, guitars

Gordon Edwards, bass

Gaspar Lawal, percussion

Mel Collins, horns

Vicki Brown, backing vocals

Blackmail:

(Robert Palmer & Lowell George)

Richard Tee, piano

Bernard Purdie, drums

Cornell Dupree, guitars

Richard Parfitt, guitars

Gordon Edwards, bass

How Much Fun:

(Robert Palmer)

The Meters, rhythm section

Lowell George, guitar

Mongezi, flagfolet

Jody Brown, percussion

From A Whisper To A Scream: 

(Allen Toussaint)

The Meters, rhythm section

Lowell George, guitar

Chris Stainton, piano

Through It All There’s You:

(Robert Palmer)

Bernard Purdie, drums

Gordon Edwards, bass

Richard Tee, organ

Onaje, electric piano

Steve Winwood, piano

Cornell Dupree, guitar

Robert Palmer, rhythm guitar & harmonies

Mel Collins, horns

Mongezi, horns

Gaspar Lawal, percussion

Jack Vance, strings

Just in time for everybody to tuck in to the most lazy and food filled day of the year. As always the tracks are all free downloads, but support these wonderful artists if you can.

Man Who Lives Forever (Rollo & Grady Session)- Lord Huron

Lord Huron has been a band that is constantly defying my expectations, they’re due out for a well deserved full length album this coming year and if Man Who Lives Forever is any indication of where their sound is going, look for them to be all over the indie airwaves next year.

Man Who Lives Forever- Lord Huron

Song to Sing When I’m Lonely- John Frusciante

Possibly the greatest talent to emerge from the Red Hot Chili Peppers, John Frusciante has shown that he’s no one trick pony and a masterful songwriter in his own right, Song To Sing When I’m Lonely is one of my favorites, starting with a melody right out of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

Song To Sing When I’m Lonely- John Frusciante

Fletcher- Blitzen Trapper

Blitzen Trapper have the new Americana sound locked down on their most recent full length, American Goldwing. Think of it as Wilco with a little more drawl and optimism.  Not many bands these days can write a narrative as compelling as this Portland group.

Fletcher- Blitzen Trapper

Coeur D’Alene- The Head and The Heart

Critics of The Head and the Heart stated that their debut album was filled with derivative sounds of Americana, on “Coeur D’Alene”  all they can note is a perfectly crafted pop song.

Coeur D’Alene- The Head and The Heart

I Stopped Missing You Today- Stone Darlings

Stone Darling is an all-girl group that single-handedly defies the label.

I Stopped Missing You Today- Stone Darling

More Than Muscle- Luke Temple

Quite possibly my favorite song of 2011 with its off-kilter rhythms and technicolor arrangements, Temple lures you in with the first few notes and by the time his charming lilt comes into the fore there’s no letting go.

More than Muscle- Luke Temple

Handwriting- White Denim

White Denim is one of those bands that can make prodigious skill seem par for the course for their songwriting, “Handwriting” being an intriguing guitar run through that makes you wonder how they’re playing what they’re playing and can still mold it into a conventional song form.  The pedal steel puts a nice touch.

Handwriting- White Denim

Freeze Out- Snorri Helgason

If not the best thing to come out of Iceland, by far he is the most underrated. Sure his name might never be commonplace in pop music but he is as well deserving as any singer-songwriter out there right now.

Freeze Out- Snorri Helgason

The Only Way- Gotye

Gotye shows the creative intensity that we used to expect out of Beck, but this Australian troubadour proves his equal and more through his clever approach at arrangements and his chameleon vocals.

The Only Way- Gotye

Livin’ In The Jungle- Black Joe Lewis & The Honeybears

Black Joe Lewis & The Honeybears seem intent on bringing R&B back to what it once was, the hard propulsive blues that brought the Black Keys into prominence with Brothers only with more of a funky kick and a wicked horn section.

Livin’ in the Jungle – Black Joe Lewis & the Honeybears

I’ll Walk Away- James Hunter

James Hunter wowed Van Morrison with his debut Believe What I Say even getting the man himself to duet on a couple tracks with him, if Sam Cooke had managed to live to old age this croon might be what we were in for.

I`ll Walk Away- James Hunter

Million Dollar Bill- Dawes

When it hits me that she’s gone/  I think i’ll run for president/ Get my face put on the million dollar bill/ So when these rich men that she wants/ Show her ways they can’t take care of her/ I’ll have found a way to be there with her still

Within the opening of “Million Dollar Bill” Taylor Goldsmith managed to portray the sadness, jealousy, and ultimately love that’s still present when your lover has left you. Proof why he’s one of the greatest songwriters of his generation.

Million Dollar Bill- Dawes

I Found You- Alabama Shakes

Otis Redding reincarnated in girl form, no other description should be necessary.

I Found You- Alabama Shakes

Soulless- Fake Problems

Who said people couldn’t write upbeat rock songs anymore.

Soulless- Fake Problems

Big Man- Boy & Bear

It wouldn’t be the farthest stretch to compare this band with Mumford & Sons, but that would greatly undermine the talent present in this group, the lyrics and vocals alone on this song should guarantee them recognition for album of the year (and yes, the rest of the album is fine too).

Big Man- Boy & Bear
From The Start- Tiger Waves

For the acoustic guitars and the rolling drum fills that propel this song along and the endearing harmonies that go along with it. Who couldn’t like a band called Tiger Waves? And you call yourselves American.

From The Start- Tiger Waves

The Understanding- Jones Street Station

No matter how many incarnations there was and will always be of tight harmonies and acoustic fingerpicking, it will always sound good, and Jones Street Station isn’t about to change that. But they certainly liven the arrangement up to great success.

The Understanding- Jones Street Station

Mighty- Lord Huron

The yearning for discovery and the search for happiness and the unknown all bottled up into one song, but it’s more than a song, it’s a whole world.

Mighty- Lord Huron

“Of all the strangers you’re the strangest that I’ve seen.”

Their music is something akin to Manifest Destiny, with vocals suiting the expansive uncharted landscapes and their instrumentation both American and otherworldly.  It would be easy to say that Lord Huron evokes bands like Fleet Foxes with their vocal charms and large atmospheres but it would be a disservice to both to bother comparing the two.  Rather their music transcends archetypes and melodrama, laudable in its own right for the sheer listenability of their work.

It might be important to note that both the EP’s, though Lord Huron is a full band live, were recorded by the lead singer himself Ben Schneider, but it’s to his credit that he doesn’t turn the story down a comparative path to Bon Iver’s famous trip out to a cabin in Wisconsin.  Although Schneider also hails from the Great Lake region (Michigan) his songwriting isn’t crafted out of an experience of heartbreak, but in the American experience itself, harkening back to the questions of identity and primitivism that few musicians have dared to explore.

Music at its most pure is an escape from the everyday life, inviting the listener to lose oneself in the world that is crafted by the musicians alone and it is in this regard that Lord Huron excels. A discerning ear can pick out the individual instruments in any of their songs (a pedal steel here, a ukelele there, a mandolin at another) but its the cohesion of these disparate elements that makes it work.

Lord Huron is the muse for the wandering mind.  Music that’s perfect for sunrise and sunsets and long drives, for the broad realization that spring is upon us and the hope of new life.  If Ralph Waldo Emerson had a favorite band, Lord Huron would surely be it.  Their craft evokes not only the natural environment but human kind in that natural environment, unchained from the bonds of modern society.

Mighty- Lord Huron

Into The Sun- Lord Huron

The Stranger- Lord Huron