New York Music Daily

Global Music With a New York Edge

Category: rock music

Jessie Kilguss: State-of-the-Art Gothic Americana

If gothic Americana is your thing, singer Jessie Kilguss is someone you need to know. Thursday night at the American Folk Art Museum, she made a point of telling the crowd that she usually plays a lot louder. But it didn’t matter: Kilguss and her four-piece band adjusted effortlessly to the spacious sonics there and brought down the lights, raising the menacing intensity that runs beneath the surface of hersongs.

Beyond the attractiveness and singalong catchiness of the tunes, there’s a persistent unease and occasional savagery. Anger and betrayal are recurrent themes in her songwriting, as they are for so many Nashville gothic types, but Kilguss distinguishes herself by getting a lot of mileage out of implying that doom and despair rather than throwing it in your face. “Lately I’ve been really quiet,” she sang with a bittersweet restraint on the anthemic, backbeat-driven janglerock number that opened the set, her drummer playing with brushes, the guitarist throwing off an artful spiral from the frets of his vintage Telecaster as they lit into the second verse.

“If you want a happy ending, it depends on where you start,” she mused a little later in the set, over a slowly swaying, moodily resonant groove, “I started at the top and I’m working my way down – and it’s a long way down.” Her voice brightened, but just a little, on the warmly bucolic waltz that followed, an understatedly brooding reminiscence of being let down, probably for the umpteenth time.

“Maybe it’s better than I stay – a safe distance from you,” she intoned over a more insistent minor-key backdrop a little later, the bass playing a blues riff as the guitar jangled nebulously before hitting a growling peak on the chorus. They picked up the pace with a soaring anthem - possibly titled Don’t Let It Go to the Dogs Tonight – before getting quiet again with the Train Song. Most bands do a railroad theme with a clickety-clack rhythm, but Kilguss is more counterintuitive: the band kicked this one off with a trip-hop beat before cleverly shifting into a slow shuffle. They wound up the set with the vengeful murder ballad Hell Creek, “The creepiest song I’ve ever written,” Kilguss told the crowd.

She’s got an interesting backstory: she got her start in the theatre before dedicating herself to music more or less fulltime about seven or eight years ago. And while she’s not a stagy performer, she’s comfortable on it, swaying in her red dress (brighter than blood-red, but the symbolism seemed pretty obvious), her eyes closed, meticulously giving voice to the angst-ridden characters in her narratives. Those interested in catching her and the band at full volume can do that tonight at 7 PM at the small room at the Rockwood.

Boston Band Aloud Nails a Slew of Catchy Purist Rock Styles

If Boston band Aloud‘s new album It’s Got to Be Now had come out in, say, 1980, it would have been all over the radio. The same would have been true in 1970, or in 1965: their sound is that tuneful, and that timeless. The two guitars of bandleaders Henry Beguiristain and Jen de la Osa jangle and clang, the vocals soar and the rhythm section of bassist Charles Murphy and drummer Frank Hegyi is dynamic verging on explosive. Their songs are eclectic, ranging from 60s flavored garage and surf rock to classic powerpop spiced with psychedelia. And they don’t waste a note – most of the songs are done before the three minute mark (they’re streaming at Spotify). As you might imagine, Aloud are excellent live: they’re at Bowery Electric on April 28 at around 9.

The album kicks off with a triumphantly crescendoing powerpop number, Back Here with Me Again, with its guy/girl vocals, And Your Bird Can Sing bassline, and a tersely tuneful guitar panned in both  left and right channels. Don’t Let It Get You Down shifts nimbly back and forth between funky verses and the band’s signature, wickedly catchy choruses. The Wicked Kind sets a snide, politically-fueled lyric to distantly menacing, chromatically-fueled garage/psych rock, de la Osa singing coolly and imperturbably over the guitars and organ.

Jeanne, It’s Just a Ride! is a funny, catchy janglepop number about a girl who wants to make more of a one-night stand than she ought to. “The futility of existence requires not your assistance,” Beguiristain deadpans. They pick up the pace with the blistering A Little Bit Low and its burning Radio Birdman-esque garage-punk guitar hooks. Then they blend bittersweet twelve-string jangle with Lynchian 60s Nashville pop on Such a Long Time, following that with the new wave Motown of After the Plague, a surprisingly optimistic post-apocalyptic scenaro.

The album’s title track sets a devious variation on a classic garage riff to a vintage soul-clap beat: it’s like the kind of neo-garage that was coming out of the band’s hometown thirty years ago, but without the cliches. A defiant escape anthem, Complicity builds from punchy surf rock to a big roaring chorus. The Beatlesque Ballad of Emily Jane brings the album full circle. Aloud have been around for awhile and have messed with different styles: it’s good to see such an excellent band getting back to the kind of purist tunesmithing they do best.

Exhilarating, Explosive, Echoey Psychedelic Postpunk and Dreampop from Bo Ningen

Japanese postpunk band Bo Ningen, who can be noisy and assaultive one minute and hauntingly atmospheric the next, have their third album, accurately titled III , due out on May 2o and a couple of New York shows coming up. On April 25 they’ll be at the Knitting Factory at 8 for $12 – and if you can stick around the neighborhood until midnight, legendary metal spoofers Satanicide (New York’s answer to Spinal Tap) play at midnight for free. Bo Ningen are doing a free show themselves, at Rough Trade two days later on April 27 at 2 and if you’re going to that you should get there early.

They call themselves psychedelic, and if you’re in the right mood, they are. Bassist/vocalist Taigen Kawabe whoops and squawks over the jagged, acid funk and crazed, spiraling pirouettes of Kohhei Matsuda and Yuki Tsujii ‘s guitars and Monchan Monna’s eardrum-pounding drums; other times, they slow down and waft through an icily ominous 4AD ambience.

The new album’s first track, DaDaDa opens with a squall and then an insistent syncopated bass-and-drum pulse. It’s basically an unhinged one-chord jam until they hit the chorus, like the Gang of Four but with more balls. The postpunk-funk of Psychedelic Misemono Goya (Reprise) reminds of the Bush Tetras right around the time of their big late 90s comeback, the guitars cutting and slashing against each other with an abrasive, reverb-toned menace and hints of dreampop as the layers peak out. Inu is a little slower, marching along like a mashhup of the Buzzcocks and Keith Levene-era Public Image Ltd.

The band kicks off Slider – one of the few tracks with an English title – with echoey minor-key chords and a series of big reverb-tank explosions and ominous contrapuntal vocals over a brisk funk beat. Like the second track, it’s basically a one-chord jam, but there’s so much strobe-guitar savagery going on overhead that you don’t notice. They open CC as a hardcore song with screaming, fractured English lyrics before a frantic sputter of guitar signals a sludgy halfspeed chorus – and then it’s back to the headbanging. By the time they wind it up, Kawabe is slamming out chords and the rest of the band has gone down into the mud again.

The slow, gently hypnotic Mukaeni Ikenai makes quite the contrast, with its lingering, bell-like guitar and echoey 4AD atmospherics. They bring back the funky buzz and grit and mingle that with the dreampop on the suspensefully stomping, midtempo Maki-Modoshi. Mitsume opens with My Bloody Valentine-like resonance and a hypnotic, practically disco beat – again, the guitars kick up so much of a turbine-in-a-tsunami squall that it obscures the fact that they don’t even bother to change chords. The rainy-day sonics return on the gracefully swaying Ogosokana Ao, followed by another mostly one-chord number, Kaifuku, its intricate two-guitar interplay cutting in and out of a swirl of reverb. For people who like edgy, assaultive music that you can dance to most of the time, this is pretty close to heaven. And it raises an intriguing question – how many other good, noisy Japanese bands are there out there that haven’t made it across the ocean yet?

The Split Squad Hits a Home Run Their First Time Up

During spring training, baseball teams often field two different squads on the same day against different teams, to facilitate plenty of practice time for both the stars and the scrubs. Which explains the sarcasm in the Split Squad’s name: this retro rock supergroup includes keyboardist Josh Kantor from Steve Wynn’s Baseball Project as well as Blondie drummer Clem Burke, guitarists Keith Streng of ageless garage rockers the Fleshtones and Eddie Munoz from powerpop cult legends the Plimsouls along with bassist Michael Giblin. On their debut album Now Here This, the Split Squad goes back through fifty years of rock, plundering ideas all over the place and mixing them up into a snarling, roaring, guitar-fueled blend of powerpop turbocharged with punk and oldschool garage rock. They’re at Bowery Electric on April 25 at around 10 atop a great purist guitar-fueled triplebill: Lakeside Lounge supergroup Los Dudes open the show at around 8 followed by legendary indie power trio the Figgs, still going strong after twenty years. Advance tickets are $10 and highly recommended.

The album unfortunately isn’t streaming on the web, but several of the tracks have made it to youtube (follow the link and enjoy!); there are also brief clips at the band’s music page. The title track opens the album. It’s Clash City Rockers meets Shakin’ All Over, as done by a late edition of Radio Birdman – yeah, that good. Those two paint-peeling wah guitar solos could be Chris Masuak. The steady, punchy, snide Touch & Go is the Kinks as done by Guided by Voices, more or less. With its mean, jangly guitar on the chorus, snappy bass and screaming guitar solo, She Is Everything could be a Del-Lords track from the late 80s. Then Sorry She’s Mine works the La Bamba/Hang On Sloopy riff before it goes in a janglier direction – anybody remember 18, that excellent Williamsburg garage-punk band from about six-seven years ago?

I’ve Got a Feeling has a tasty post-Stooges/Radio Birdman sway, with a deliciously swirly, all-too-brief organ solo. The vicious kiss-off anthem I Can’t Remember goes for a haphazard, 6/8 oldschool soul groove. I Feel the Same About You bookends a somewhat wry Beatles Abbey Road intro and outro around a four-on-the-floor powerpop stomp that could be Cheap Trick, right down to the Bun E. Carlos drumrolls out of the verse. Likewise, Superman Says, a look behind the mask of a stressed-out superhero: “They take it for granted that I never lose,” Clark Kent grouses.

Put It Down keeps the catchy powerpop going over a soul-clap beat that slows down to make way for the organ. Tinker Taylor hints at a Dolls glam vibe, while Hey Hey Baby, the most trad garage rock tune here, blends fuzz guitar into a biting minor-key riff-rock tune. You’ll Never Change is a brooding Vegas tango done as oldschool soul, Spooky by the Classics IV but genuinely spooky. The album winds up with Messin’ Around , which is basically Gloria, right down to the half-assed harmonica. They take it out with a nasty exchange of bars from the guitars. Recycling has seldom been so much fun.

Intense Guitarist Phil Gammage Puts His Original Stamp on Classic Sounds

Phil Gammage may be best known as the fiery lead guitarist in long-running, gritty downtown New York rockers Certain General, but he’s also a strong singer and an eclectic songwriter. He has a thing for noir, and also a thing for blues. His latest album is Adventures in Bluesland, which is aptly titled since it’s both adventurous and bluesy. It’s a mix of originals and covers from across the ages and the blues spectrum, streaming at Spotify.

Gammage opens with his best Elvis vocal  impersonation on Trying to Get to You, against a slightly Stonesy, slide-fueled backdrop. The first of the originals, What Tomorrow Brings works a slow-burning ba-BUMP groove, Gammage’s tersely bitter blues harp mingling with Don Fiorino’s lapsteel lines. Ain’t That Something sets Gammage’s spiky but liquid broken chords over moody spaciousness – it could be a creepy Yardbirds ballad, but with better production values (drummer Kevin Tooley, who also produced, does a fantastic, purist job with this). Next, Lay Me Down Low makes a hypnotically psychedelic but angst-driven nocturne out of what’s mostly a one-chord jam.

Gammage’s steel-driven take of the old folk song In the Pines has a lot more in common with the gothic minimalism of the Parkington Sisters‘ cover than the shrill version that Nirvana made famous. Likewise, his version of Help Me reaches toward lurid red-neon Otis Rush resonance, but with a restraint that makes it all the more uneasy. So when he and the band – which also includes Richard Demmler on bass and Joe Nieves on backing vocals – launch into the ZZ Top cheeseball classic La Grange, there’s some comic relief, but also a surprisingly purist, Stonesy approach that actually works.

Kills Me When You’re Gone reaches for a Sean Kershaw-style ghoulabilly menace. The searing Hanging Onto You, arguably the strongest track here, offers a nod to both Rush and Elvis (Otis and Presley, in case you weren’t paying attention earlier): Gammage’s savage tremolo-picking and careening lead lines are darkly delicious.

Fiorino switches to banjo for an unexpectedly brisk but resonantly low-key take of Wayfaring Stranger. Then he lights up the echoey, menacing See How We Roll with his flights on lapsteel: it’s sort of a cross between David Lynch and Jimmy Reed. The version of Baby Let Me Follow You Down picks up where Dylan’s excellent “Royal Albert Hall” version left off, another showcase for Fiorino’s blue-flame lapsteel work. The album winds up with the wry Big Daddy Reefer and its proto-rockabilly swing, which wouldn’t be out of place in the Susquehanna Industrial Tool & Die Co. catalog.

These New Puritans Bring Their Brooding Art-Rock Themes to Bowery Ballroom

 

This blog didn’t exist when These New Puritans recorded their landmark debut, Beat Pyramid, in 2008. It was a big deal then, and the moody British art-rock band’s initial release remains one of the most indelibly original recordings of the past several years. Their latest album Field of Reeds is streaming at Spotify, and they’ve got a long-awaited NYC gig coming up on April 30 at 9 PM at Bowery Ballroom. Advance tickets are $20 and very highly recommended. If you like the idea of Radiohead but find the reality unapproachably cold and mechanical, you will find These New Puritans far more chillingly alive.

The latest album’s opening instrumental The Way That I Do gives you a good idea of their game plan. An icy, minimalistic piano dirge with disembodied vocals – Mum without the synthesizers – gives a way to a broodingly sustained orchestral arangement, then the piano comes back in and they take it out with emphatic trumpet against swirly upper-register organ. It could be a detective film theme, from the kind of movie where the sleuth solves the case and then moves on to the next grisly scene.

Fragment Two opens with frontman Jack Barnett’s simple circular piano theme juxtaposed against atmospheric strings and echoey backing vocals, like a more tuneful take on what the Blue Nile were doing in the late 80s. There’s a gothic aspect to these slowly unwinding, wounded melodies, as well as elements of trippy 90s chillout music, but drummer George Barnett maintains a counterintuitive pulse that livens the hypnotic layers of keys, strings and woodwinds.

A cinematic sweep develops methodically out of another minimamalist dirge in The Light in Your Name. It’s practically a tone poem, echoing Radiohead but rooted in a peat bog rather than drifting through deep space. The epic V (Island Song) opens with a similarly downcast, Smog-like ambience and then alternates between an insistent, piano-driven march and a slinkier, more trancey trip-hop groove. Spiral sets guest chanteuse Elisa Rodrigues’ creepily processed vocals against the bandleader’s wintry baritone over ominously shifting cumulo-nimbus washes of sound that eventually give way to a slow, elegant, baroque-inflected woodwind theme.

Organ Eternal balances Smog moroseness with a circular keyboard riff and lush orchestration that evokes composer Missy Mazzoli‘s art-rock band Victoire. Nothing Else, the album’s longest track, is also its most anthemic and cinematic: it figures that the central instrument would be a carefully modulated, resonant bass clarinet. Dream, sung airily by Rodrigues, could be Stereolab with vibraphone and orchestra in place of the synthesizers. The album ends with the title track, a Twin Peaks choir of men’s voices contrasting with dancing vibraphone and an anthemic vocal interlude. This is troubled and troubling but also unexpectedly comforting music, not what you typically hear at a Bowery Ballroom gig but perfect for the room’s enveloping sonics.

Good Shows Saturday Night on the LES

Eve Lesov looks kind of punk; her music has a classical tinge to it (it seems that every Russian has classical training). She plays an original, tuneful, moody mix of noir cabaret, chamber pop and gothic rock. Her songwriting also has a Spanish side. She’s a strong pianist, a fantastic singer with a dramatic, sometimes stagy flair and the kind of sardonic humor that so many Slavs have. She also has a shtick, “Russian devotchka in New York and things are crazy, man, but everything’s gonna be ok.” And she’s got an excellent, eclectic band. Saturday night at the Rockwood, Lesov led them through a set that was occasionally haunting, sometimes pensive, sometimes kinetic and often amusing.

Lesov’s drummer kept a terse, muted thump going through her mostly slow-to-midtempo songs using just a cymbal and a conga, which he played with mallets. Her excellent bassist added the occasional guitarlike flourish into his fluid grooves. Acoustic guitar mingled with Lesov’s stately piano chords and icy arpeggios; on a handful of songs, the band added balmy jazz flute on top of the mix for an unexpectedly tasty blend of textures.

They opened with a slow minor-key instrumental, Lesov wordlessly reaching for the top of her crystalline vocal range over a brooding chromatic bassline. Then they segued into a pensive bolero. A couple of big, crescendoing anthems bookended a slinky trip-hop groove that was the poppiest number of the set, yet it had the same kind of distant menace as most of the other songs. In a typically uneasy-funny moment, Lesov alluded to being kidnapped on her way over to the US – if that’s true, good thing she got away!

A little later, Lesov switched to guitar, the guitarist taking a turn on the drums while the drummer went to the piano and turned out to have impressively nimble, jazz-influenced chops. After Lesov sang her latest single, in Russian (with more of a clenched-teeth intensity than she had on any of the English-language material), the band closed with a slowly swaying, anthemic number that was part Britfolk, part stadium rock and part early 70s Bowie. Lesov seems to be making the Rockwood her home lately; she and the band will go slumming at Sidewalk on May 2 at 9 PM.

Afterward, it was great fun to go a few blocks north to catch LJ Murphy, who was also slumming at Sidewalk in a rare duo show with his phenomenal pianist Patrick McLellan. With Botanica‘s Paul Wallfisch making Germany his home base these days, McLellan has taken over as New York’s best rock keyboardist. He was on fire throughout the set, his Bernard Herrmann-esque horror cinematics on Mad Within Reason taking that song – the title track from Murphy’s album – to new levels of creepy surrealism. Likewise, he turned the snarling East Village Hell Night scenario This Fearful Town even more nightmarish with frantic, crazed midrange clusters. And then he backed away into graceful oldschool soul and gospel on the melancholy Waiting by the Lamppost. The rest of the show was a flurry of blues and jazz licks, Murphy growling and barking in his vintage voice through a mix of upbeat, anthemic numbers like the nonchalantly menacing Long Island murder anthem Pretty for the Parlor,  the sardonic Imperfect Strangers and then the singalongs Blue Silence and Barbed Wire Playpen. Murphy has made a name for himself as a charismatic showman, bandleader and lyricist but now he’s got a guy on the keys who can match his intensity.

Holly Golightly & the Brokeoffs Tour Their Best Album with a Couple of NYC Shows

Well-liked retro rock duo Holly Golightly & the Brokeoffs have a new album, It’s Her Fault, arguably the best one they’ve ever made (it’ s not on Spotify yet, but most of the rest of their albums are). They’ve also got a couple of New York shows: in Williamsburg for free on 4/20 at 2 PM at Rough Trade (get there early if you’re going), and the following night, April 21 they’ll be at the Mercury at 10:30 for $12 in advance.

The new album is a lot darker than anything they’ve done so far: much as a lot of the punk blues in their catalog isn’t exactly happy-go-lucky stuff, this can get unexpectedly intense. It’s also a lot more fleshed out than their earlier material, with bass, piano and all kinds of tasty but purist, spare guitar multitracking. SLC, the first number, is a duet, and it kicks ass: “You can turn around an oxcart in Salt Lake City, and they think that’s a really good time…but you ain’t gonna have a good time.” This amped-up oldtimey folk tune will resonate with aybody who’s ever been there. For All That Ails You, with its mournful train-whistle guitar and stalking, noir blues sway, is uncommonly dark for this band, and it’s excellent. Likewise, Pistol Pete, a creepy noir cabaret waltz.

They go back to the haphazard kind of hillbilly boogie they’re known for on Can’t Pretend and then do the same, adding uneasily quavering funeral organ, on 1 2 3 4. They hit a lurching honkytonk groove with the unexpectely hilarious Bless Your Heart, a reality check for any Brooklyn poser with phony C&W affectations.

Holly and Lawyer Dave reinvent Trouble in Mind as a lo-fi, punked-out oldtime slide guitar shuffle and go deep into echoey, eerily twinkling Nashville gothic with the sad waltz The Best – Holly pulls out all the stops in channeling a seriously damaged woman.

Don’t Shed Your Light offers a lo-fi take on the kind of nocturnal glimmer the Stones were going for circa Exile on Main Street, with more of that deliciously swirly funeral organ. They do the same with honkytonk on the vengeful No Business and then go straight for a Stones vibe with Perfect Mess, which would be a standout track on, say, Let It Bleed. The closing cut, King Lee, brings back the unhinged punk blues vibe. Not a single second-rate track here: one of the best dozen or so albums of 2014 by this reckoning.

Creepy and Lively Americana Tunesmithing from the Annie Ford Band

Seattle-based fiddler Annie Ford made a name for herself on the road with Gill Landry, who went on to the Old Crow Medicine Show. These days, she’s got a killer debut album that juxtaposes her own broodingly lyrical, purist Americana songwriting with her drummer Matt Manges’ more upbeat but similarly oldschool C&W tunes. The whole thing is streaming at her Bandcamp page.

The production is as vintage-sounding as the songs. Everything sounds like it was recorded through old tube amps onto analog tape: Olie Elshleman’s gorgeously otherworldly pedal steel, Tim Sargent’s jaggedly noir guitar, Ivan Molton’s terse bass. and Robert Mitchell’s jaunty saloon piano and soul organ.

The best song on the album is Buick 1966, a cinematically noir mini-epic that shifts from a creepy bolero to a waltz to scampering bluegrass and then back, fueled by Sargent’s knee-buckling, Marc Ribot-like reverb guitar lines. All Hours is another haunting gem: Ford’s aphoristic portrait of drinking to remember rather than forget, set to vintage honkytonk spiced with stark fiddle and resonant, plaintive pedal steel, could be a classic from the late 50s – or an LJ Murphy song.

Mitchell takes centerstage on Frankie, a more upbeat,Fats Domino-esque murder ballad by Manges. Likewise, Shake on That works a late 50s style swamp rock groove that blends hints of both boogie-woogie and the Grateful Dead. Another romp by Manges, Lovesick has a carefree, early Wanda Jackson-style rockabilly energy.

Elshleman’s bittersweetly soaring steel makes a vivid contrast with Ford’s morose, subdued vocals on the forlornly shuffling Two Sides. Dirty Hearts & Broken Dishes explores similar emotional terrain over an elegant oldtime banjo waltz tune. Calloused Hands, another gently powerful number by Ford, has a narrator scrambling to hold onto memories of a comfortable childhood gone forever. The way Ford strings together her striking images: a woodsy, rural scene bulldozed into dust and a “tree struck open by a lightning storm that you could hide in to keep you safe and warm,” will resonate with anyone who’s seen their childhood neighborhoods replaced by McMansions.

Ford also examines family unease in My Brother, a reflection on someone dear to her heart who could obviously be dearer. Driven by more of that delicious, distantly menacing tremolo guitar, the midtempo shuffle Northern Rain has an understated vengefulness. The album ends up with the joyously vicious, metaphorically-charged noir bluegrass tune Gotta Kill a Rooster, capped off by a triumphantly diabolical, Romany-tinged Ford fiddle solo. There’s something for everyone here, country charm and menace in equal supply along with plenty of vintage soul sounds – it’s one of the best albums to come over the transom here in recent months.

The Sound of the Fab Four Inspires Andrew Collberg’s New Album

Swedish-born, New Zealand-raised and now based in Tucson, Andrew Collberg is a connoisseur of many retro rock styles. He has a background in southwestern gothic, and a couple of years ago put out a killer single, Dirty Wind b/w Back on the Shore, a rich evocation of classic paisley underground rock in the same vein as True West or the Dream Syndicate. These days he’s mining sounds that evoke ELO and the Beatles, adding layers of the blippy faux-vintage keyboard textures that are all the rage in the Bushwick indie scene on his latest album, Minds Hits. The whole thing is streaming at Spotify.

The opening track, Rich, is totally ELO, a soul-tinged update on the sound Jeff Lynne achieved with Evil Woman, then morphing into something of a glamrock song with a fuzztone guitar solo before coming back to the wickedly catchy, funk-tinged verse. From there Collberg segues into Hole and its Penny Lane bounce, followed by Take a Look Around, a retro 60s soul tune with Abbey Road touches: la-la-la backing vocals, elegant broken-chord guitar lines, organ and a terse faux electric harpsichord solo. After that, the long, hypnotically vamping Pepper Peter keeps the Abbey Road vibe going, this time on the Lennon side of the street.

Tear has Collberg playing precise soul chords that rise to a swaying, ba-BUMP late-Beatles groove that grows more majestic as he adds layers of guitars and keys. Stars takes the sound about a dozen years forward into ornately catchy Jeff Lynne space-pop territory, while Snide Creepy Soul takes an insistent, similarly hooky ELO-style pop tune thirty more years into the future with a mix of vintage and fake-vintage keyboard voicings.

Easy Lazy Dome speeds up a Hey Jude ambience doublespeed and then takes a turn into unexpectedly ominous psychedelia, fueled by shivery lead guitar. Cantaloupe looks back to Sergeant Pepper, complete with tumbling Ringo-esque drums. The album winds up with Hit the Gas, which sets a classic Lennon-style tune over boomy lo-fi drums before it picks up with increasingly ornate layers of guitar/keyboard orchestration. Isn’t it amazing that fifty years after the Beatles first hit, artists and audiences alike continue to be obsessed with them? Fans of Elliott Smith, Abby Travis, and of course ELO and the Fab Four will have a good time with this.

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