The last time we had a real release from Brent was the delicious EP Quite Precisely, which came out in 2003 (!). If you’ve heard that album, be prepared for an experience: Paddington Green sounds infinitely brighter, better produced, and cleaner than the preceding EP. Now, I love that little record quite a bit, but I’m amazed at how much the Pinecones’ sound has been worked on since then. About time, I guess, considering how long the wait has been!

Paddington is fairly sleepy as far as albums go, but in the positive sense: many of the songs are dreamy and lilting, with the right amount of pop piano and Randall’s crooning voice. This one also features some horns (always a welcome addition, says the horn player!) and a delightful re-recording of old favourites “Snowdrops” and “Bluebirds, Flowers and Other Things”, both previously featured on the Just Friends Sampler of Love.

It’s one of those that I’d like you all to hear. “Bluebirds, Flowers and Other Things” has long been a favourite Brent Randall track of mine, since they have had it as a staple live song for quite some time and it’s always gone over very well. This new slightly uptempo version, featuring some excellent horns and a whole lot more energy, encapsulates the Pinecones perfectly. It’s equal parts fresh and retro, and I promise you that you’ll be singing “You are the one that I lo-o-ove” all day afterwards.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Tunesday 11: Bluebirds, Flowers and Other Things

The album is incredibly varied, all at once loud and heavy (“Ruckus”), campfire-folk (“A Hiccup on the Mountain”) and circusy instrumental (“Squirmy Wormy”). Dwight’s fantastic Tom Waits voice brings out the grit and gristle in the record, and his command of a whole lot of styles makes for a great listening experience. As with any album with such variety, some songs will likely please your ears more than others, but it is still tied together with a reasonable amount of cohesion and the package comes out sounding terrific.

I guess I haven’t got much constructive commentary for the record, but I can tell you that it gets better every time I listen to it — a great growl in one section, a beautiful violin line in another — and I really hope that Dwight gets the recognition he really deserves for making an album like this one. I hope you’ll enjoy it too.

This track is perhaps not the most representative of the prevailing styles on the album, but dammit, it’s my favourite, so you get to hear it. For more, check out MySpace. You can hear my flute make a cameo appearance (and if you’re really sharp, some vocals too) on “Squirmy Wormy”!

Tunesday 9: A Hiccup on the Mountain

(For the record, I liked Constantine more than I thought I would. It was rather interesting, and Keanu Reeves’ trademark wooden face served him remarkably well in it.)

Today I’d like to draw your attention to an album that not enough Canadians have heard, not to mention the rest of the world. That album is called Melville, recorded by a legendary — and legendarily under-the-radar — band known as the Rheostatics.

Some background: the Rheos started up in 1980, and soon gained a well-deserved reputation as one of the most influential Canadian bands in history. Curiously enough, they haven’t gotten much attention in the mainstream, but with the musicians these days that are, that might have been a good thing. Whatever the case may be, the Rheostatics forged on and ahead for twenty-seven years, disbanding officially with a farewell show at Massey Hall in March 2007 (tragically, before I was employed there).

The album in question, Melville, was released in 1991, when I was two years old and wouldn’t have been able to appreciate it anyway. Chart magazine (RIP) ran a poll in 1995 to determine the top 50 Canadian albums of all time, and Melville placed 16th; in subsequent polls, it was fifth (2000) and 44th (2005).

The 2005 poll was actually what first drew my attention to the record, as I had been subscribing to Chart for a little while at that point and made it my goal to listen to all the records on that top 50. Other artists leading that album included the usual suspects of Canadian legend, namely Joni Mitchell, Neil Young, Sloan, the Tragically Hip, etc.

It’s strange, then, that the Rheos would be considered equals of such muscular musical forces as these, but usually provoke a reaction of “Rheo-who?” from the average Canadian. Strange and unfortunate. They’re one of the most eclectic and undefinable artists in the country, for certain; it’s impossible to pigeonhole their sound, and I can only imagine what they might have said to people when they were starting out and were asked to describe their sound. “Uh … weird?”

Melville is a quirky record, and one that might take a while to grow on you if you haven’t had the pleasure of hearing the ‘Statics before. It’s pretty classic material, though, and along with Whale Music, was what first introduced me to the Gospel of Rheo. It features the usual suspects of jerky and somewhat angular tunes, Martin Tielli’s twisting, soaring vocals (for the uninitiated, think an intense-er Hawksley Workman), rollicking good-times tunes (in French!) in the form of “Chanson Les Ruelles,” and even a quintessential Canadian cover. And a song called “Saskatchewan”.

You might have noticed the excess use of the word “Canadian” in this post; that’s because it’s impossible to describe the Rheostatics without the use of that adjective. They are hosers through and through, and routinely write about the homeland in everything they do. To listen to this band is to snowshoe, to eat maple syrup, or to tack “eh” annoyingly onto the end of every sentence; but it’s also to appreciate everything that this giant landmass has to offer. Especially bands like this. They don’t come around often, so we had better listen up when they do.

Tunesday 8: Horses

The band is made up of two members, vocalist and MC, and Hello, Dear is their second record; their first, according to their MySpace, was distributed online-only and sold out quickly.

For courtesy’s sake, I will keep this review short: Svelt St. does not captivate me. While I can see some songs transitioning well to the dance floor, when a beat matters more than artistry or decent lyrics, none of the work on Hello, Dear keeps me interested. The single “Po’ Boy” starts off promisingly, a subdued School of Language-style vocal intro, but then the cheesy synth and beats kick in and that’s the end of that.

Most of the lyrics on the record are unremarkable, as are the beats; I don’t hear anything here that sounds new or different from the usual “club beat” stuff. The lead-off track, “Lights On,” sounds like your usual dance tune (synthesizers, drum machine) with vocals mixed low and such creative lyrics as “Turn off the lights, daddy’s home”.

While Hello, Dear might be all right for ambient noise or the club, there’s nothing about this record that suggests to me it might have staying power; it’s not remarkable for any reason, and doesn’t live up to the hype suggested by the Svelt St myspace page. I am not incensed by its terribleness as I might be with some bands — it’s certainly not at that level! — but I’m not thrilled with anything on the record either. Svelt St. have succeeded in crafting that most elusive of things: an album that leaves a music critic completely devoid of any emotion toward it. Could be worse, I guess.

Svelt St. on MySpace
Listen to Po’ Boy

Mandibles have a self-titled CD out, nine songs of Howard’s earnest and fervent vocals backed by an impressive collective of musicians. It’s a great record, equal parts roller coaster and lilting song, but Mandibles’ crowning glory is their live show; D. Alex Meeks’ aforementioned battery of percussion instruments, Lisa Conway’s violin, and the whole troupe’s collective energy makes for a sweaty and fantastic evening. They’re a carnival, a hoedown, and a pop band all in one, and certainly a band who should be getting far more recognition and exposure than they are right now.

In case you’re not yet convinced, here’s the lead-off track from their record, a tune called The Never Ending Fall.

If you’ree in Toronto, you can catch Mandibles at the Drake Hotel, along with The Little Deaths and Hut, this Wednesday (January 21).

In other news: the new Brent Randall & His Pinecones CD is out tomorrow, titled We Were Strangers In Paddington Green, and I am so excited about that. It’s certainly been long enough! Watch for more about them soon.

10. SCHOOL OF LANGUAGE, Sea From Shore (Thrill Jockey)

Peter Brewis of Field Music, whose Tones of Town made it to the top of my list last year, is back with a new project. School of Language’s debut album is strange and quirky (the four-part “Rockist” certainly assures that much) but also features some great poppy numbers like “Poor Boy” and “Disappointment ‘99″. Every time you listen to it, something different stands out: you have to listen to it many times over to realise everything that it has to offer, and that cements its status as one of the top albums of the year.

Review: March 2008
Listen to Disappointment ‘99

9. THE BURNING HELL, Happy Birthday (weewerk)

The Burning Hell are awesome because they simultaneously don’t take themselves too seriously and take themselves very seriously. Mathias Kom’s earnest baritone is, well, serious, but he uses it to sing about dinosaurs, zombies and other playful subjects; the closing number involves him singing about his iconic ukulele. This is a band that isn’t afraid to appear whimsical (and they do, on several occasions) but Happy Birthday is also a lesson in how to play with a giant Broken-Social-Scene-sized ensemble and still make the music sound intimate and well-rehearsed.

Review: January 2008
Listen to Municipal Monarchs

8. THE MOUNTAIN GOATS, Heretic Pride (4AD)

I’ve always admired John Darnielle’s songwriting, and Heretic Pride is no reason to quit. Of course, the album features his trademark nasal vocal style, which admittedly gets to be a bit annoying on the title track particularly, but there’s also something about that style that fits perfectly with his abstract lyrics and occasionally jerky guitar. There’s some almost ethereal work on Heretic Pride too, though: songs like “San Bernardino”, featuring strings, and “Sept 15, 1983″, songs which remind you just how talented Darnielle really is and why he deserves a place on this list. (Well — that, and he has a song called “Michael Myers Resplendent,” which should be a bye into the top 10 no matter what!)

Review: April 2008
Listen to Sax Rohmer #1

7. LONGWAVE, Secrets Are Sinister (Original Signal)

I have Adam to thank for this one. I wasn’t familiar with Longwave’s work until 2008, so Secrets Are Sinister is the only album of theirs that I’ve heard in its entirety. Really, the best adjective for this record is “tight” — very together, very well put together, and very hard-driving. Maybe it’s just because I’ve been listening to it in the season of snow, but it seems curiously to sound like a wintry album without resorting to clichés. “Sirens in the Deep Sea” is a well-chosen opening track, and the whole thing feels a bit like a film distilled into musical form: a perfect flow from start to finish.

Listen to Sirens in the Deep Sea

6. THE BICYCLES, Oh No, It’s Love (Fuzzy Logic)

Before you jump up and call bias (I was on this record as a member of the horn section), I’ll remind you that I had no part in the actual writing or creation of this album, and so I think it’s fair game! The Bicycles’ sophomore record is much more mature and varied than their bubblegum-pop debut album, and the myriad list of guests (including Basia Bulat, Bob Egan, Laura Barrett and Dan Werb) fleshes out the foursome’s collection of musical ideas. At 19 tracks, the album runs just under 38 minutes — a testament to the tight, poppy esthetic the band still maintains. Oh No, It’s Love is simultaneously a fun, playful record and a slick rock collection, and finds its niche comfortably in between; again, the only thing wrong with this record is track 16, the unfunny, awkward comedy interlude (1:03) that disrupts the flow and holds the dubious honour of being the only track that needs skipping.

Review: November 2008
Listen to End of a Good Thing

5. DAVID BYRNE & BRIAN ENO, Everything That Happens Will Happen Today (self-released)

When you pair up two musical luminaries such as these, the unexpected will usually come to pass. So it is with Everything That Happens, a long (long, long)-awaited follow-up to 1981’s collaboration My Life in the Bush of Ghosts. That album was quite experimental, using “found objects”, strange samples, and other such interesting sounds; this album is quite conventional by comparison. Some songs even lean toward the singer-songwriter style, such as “My Big Nurse” — but still manages to incorporate enough inventiveness not to be dismissed outright. Curious piano riffs and odd vocal styles (“I Feel My Stuff”), understated downtempo songs (title track) and decidedly new wave influences come together in a sort of mishmash of sounds to create a slick, well-produced, and very interesting record. It’s not as weird or inaccessible as Bush of Ghosts, but this is a positive: Byrne & Eno have made a record that it is nearly impossible to dislike.

Review: October 2008
Listen to Home

4. HAYDEN, In Field & Town (Hardwood)

The best thing about Hayden is that his songs have a curious way of sounding like home, no matter where that might be or how long it has been since you were there. In Field & Town has a quiet humility about its tracks, which are unpretentious and charming to the end; when he played at Massey Hall with Cuff the Duke as his backing band, opening for Feist, the stage was set up to look like a cluttered living room, complete with rugs, a few lopsided table lamps, and even some dishes strewn on top of keyboards (just like his album cover, which is among my favourites). This album floats into your ears and waits for you to realise that it is worth keeping around; nothing is forced, and everything is perfect.

Listen to Damn This Feeling

3. SAM ROBERTS, Love at the End of the World (Secret Brain)

If Secrets Are Sinister was a winter album, then this is definitely one for summer. Sam Roberts has always had that breezy summer feel about his songs, and Love at the End of the World shows him at the top of his writing game; tunes like “Detroit ‘67″ and “Them Kids” just make you want to dance around in fields. “Lions of the Kalahari” and the title track are like the impending summer sunset, a little calmer but no less thrilling. Roberts has crafted an engaging record once again, and one that is immaculately produced to boot. It’ll be a long time before I’m tired of this.

Review: June 2008
Listen to Detroit ‘67

2. JUSTIN RUTLEDGE, Man Descending (Six Shooter)

My top two albums were a tough contest, and Man Descending sat in the number 1 spot for a long time before I finally made up my mind. That alone should tell you how good this record is! Justin Rutledge’s music is usually best listened to after dark, preferably near to midnight; it is calm and beautiful and intimate without being vacuous or boring. Everything about this album is understated, and Rutledge’s voice — smooth as honey — covers everything in a layer of softness. Although it’s by definition a country or roots record, there’s no hoedown or overt twanginess present here — instead, a very solid folk element, some nighttime campfire sounds, and a collection of beautiful lyrics. I can’t think of anything wrong with this record: maybe it should have been a tie!

Listen to Greenwich Time

1. ELLIOTT BROOD, Mountain Meadows (Six Shooter)

It’s a tough thing, choosing the best record of the year. I can’t say I have a remotely unbiased view, considering I heard a pretty small number of new albums in 2008. I can’t say that one winner really stood out at the beginning of all this, either — but out of the mess of good records, mediocre ones, and unmentionables, and out of the scrap between spots 1 and 2, a winner did emerge, and that was Mountain Meadows. This record is a mishmash of all kinds of sounds, from the Rutledge style of quiet folk to the rollicking piano-led hoedown of “Woodward Avenue,” from soaring build (“Fingers and Tongues”) to simple singable tunes (“Without Again”). There is very little that Elliott Brood has not thrown forth on this album, but it comes out as a cohesive whole instead of a collection of parts. Mark Sasso’s trademark raspy voice races through the songs, completely unrestrained (his entrance on “Woodward Avenue” is particularly striking!) and it’s unique touches like these that separate Elliott Brood from the rest of the country bands out there. They do what they want — and if what they want always sounds like this, count me in.

Listen to Fingers and Tongues and Woodward Avenue

Hope all of your holidays are going magnificently; another list or two is forthcoming and then it’s back to business as usual. Take care!

The record features eleven poppy tracks infused with a lot of fuzzy guitar and catchy tags. On the first few listens, comparisons can be made at various points to the Flaming Lips, My Bloody Valentine, or even, sometimes, the mellower side of the Golden Dogs; while there’s some psychedelia going on, particularly when the tempo slows down, it’s really an album of tight pop songs.

My personal bias makes me lean more towards the cleaner-sounding tracks like “Burn, Burn, Burn” than the ones with added fuzz, but there really are a lot of solid songs on this album; other favourites include “Banana Republic (Reprise)” for its driving rhythm and the opening track, “Tasty Bites”. All eleven add up to an enjoyable record, and one that is worth at least a few listens.

(I’m going to let you have a listen to the aforementioned “Burn, Burn, Burn” because in it I think Marino’s voice sounds slightly like latter-day Geddy Lee — i.e. the Geddy that sings less high and screechy than he used to — and I think that’s really funny, but also totally awesome. Check it out here.)

If you aren’t checking out Neil Young or Franz Ferdinand on Thursday, December 4, you can catch EX~PO live at the Rancho Relaxo (300 College) along with William Delray with the Sexy Moving Parts and Taylor Knox & the Ishmaels.

EX~PO on MySpace
Film House Recordings

SPEAKING OF WHICH, some absolutely crazy things are going on in our country at present. I will reserve my comment for later, as I just found out about all this today (don’t get much news about Harper and Friends when you’re down south), but perhaps this guy might actually get a turn?! Well, we’ll see.

Enough about that. Three weeks ago, The Bicycles released a terrific sophomore album called Oh No, It’s Love, and then followed that up a few days later with a smash hit CD release party at Lee’s Palace in Toronto. It featured a grab bag of musical guests, including Hooded Fang, $100, Forest City Lovers, Matt Murphy, Brent Randall, Sloan, Sebastien Grainger, and many others, and was probably one of the more joyful nights I have experienced this year.

I can’t comment on the entirety of the show in an unbiased way, since I was involved. The album features a horn section on many of the tracks, and I’m in it; since they wanted to play every song from the record (which they did, excepting one track, “Green Light”) they brought us back too. It was a total blast playing that show, since the Bicycles are an incredibly energetic foursome and are out-cuted by no one. Seriously, the most adorable band ever.

I did get to see a whole lot of awesome stuff that I wasn’t in, though, and it all added up to one terrific night. They backed up all those aforementioned musical guests Last Waltz-style (the Bikes, being their usual sugary selves, labelled it the “Last Schmaltz,” a continuation of the 2006 CD release for their first album, The Good, The Bad and the Cuddly), and seeing Matt Murphy and the Bikes play “10 Lbs” from the Super Friendz’ iconic Mock Up Scale Down was pretty amazing. Sloan playing “I Hate My Generation” was similarly terrific — both of these especially fun because of the excitement spilling off the stage from the four Bicycles. I don’t blame them. I’d be thrilled too.

The album is just as exciting as the show was. There are 19 tracks featured on Oh No, It’s Love — a pretty substantial length, even though all the songs are around 2 minutes long (the longest is 3:22). One of these tracks, though, is a decidedly unfunny comedy/spoken word track – not featuring any of the Bicycles – which really interrupts the flow of the record. It’s a bit like an unexpected shortcut, where you’re driving along a nice paved highway, turn off onto the bumpiest of gravel roads for a minute, and then are back on the highway again. Wouldn’t it be easier and more pleasant to stay on the highway the entire time? Yeah. In terms of the flow of the record, that’s a major flaw, but the only one I’ve noticed.

The whole thing sounds great, though. Like the previous Bicycles record, the vocals are mixed too low — it’s never possible to understand everything that vocalist/guitarist Matt Beckett is saying, but this time they included the lyrics! — but everything all together is a sweet and poppy package that leaves very little out. They try out a lot more musical styles and genres on this album, and bring in a host of guests that include Laura Barrett, Basia Bulat, Bob Egan (Wilco, Blue Rodeo), and Andy Lloyd to round out the cast, and it works really well; the surprising variety combined with the sheer number of tracks means this record can stay in your car CD player for a ridiculously long time before you get sick of it.

Have a listen: End of a Good Thing

I should be blogging reasonably more regularly in the next few weeks (or so I’d like to think, anyway). End-of-year lists are looming, and I’m starting to decide what my ears thought were the best things that happened to them in 2008. Got any suggestions? The comments section is wide open! See you soon.

The album. A fairly recent invention, when you think about it. Recording began with one or two songs, and singles were all the rage for quite a few decades, although some very early albums were actually a collection of 78s packaged together (the first being Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite in 1909) like a photo album, hence the name.

When Columbia produced the first 33⅓ LP in 1948 (more info), this took on the name “album” from the previous collection of 78s, since it held about the same amount of music. From there on, albums were produced that way — a collection of songs in a specified order on two sides of a disc.

Fun facts: The first double album was Benny Goodman’s Live at Carnegie Hall (the concert of 1938 released in 1950), and the first triple album was probably George Harrison’s solo debut All Things Must Pass (1971) — certainly the first triple by a solo artist, rather than an ensemble or group.

Anyway, for a while singles were popular and the thing to collect; then it was LPs, with the singles coming out beforehand to promote the record and to be played on the radio. This began the idea of having a few singles on the record, ones you’d hear on the radio, as well as other songs you would only hear by buying the album — a good way to encourage buying albums as opposed to singles, since the album incorporated both.

(Of course, the single would also include the B-side, which was the new track, demo, or otherwise unreleased song that would accompany the A-side single … it’s a whole thing that I won’t get into in this post, but let’s just say that was encouragement enough for collectors and enthusiasts.)

In recent years, there were cassette singles, and then CD singles. Nowadays there are very few bands or labels who release a physical copy of a single; it goes out to the radio stations as a promo CD, but the general public will probably get an iTunes download or some form of MP3 from the Internet. The digital age has taken over.

Which brings me to the issue of the day (that took long enough): the digital age. The age of the single song, and the decline of the album.

You wouldn’t think this is a problem, coming from circles anywhere but “commercial” pop music. Albums are more than alive, with vinyl making a huge comeback; all kinds of artists are releasing their records on both vinyl and CD, with a digital download of the record accompanying the vinyl copy for those who want to put them on their iPods or so on. You can’t go wrong with this idea; for the same price, you get a great package and vinyl copy, as well as a completely legal MP3 copy for whatever you want to use it for. The digital age is certainly doing some things right.

However.

I like to read the Writer’s Prompts on LiveJournal sometimes. Each day they put up a question that writers can answer if they want, and I tend to read a lot of the responses to see what people are thinking. One question recently said, essentially, “What are your top ten favourite albums?”

Albums, not songs or artists; albums, the complete package. Here’s my favourite response (these are all treated as anonymous):

I truthfully can not answer this question [...]. I do not own any complete albums.

Not a single one. Not even a greatest hits record? There are people out there, ladies and gentlemen, who do not own a single full album. I can’t even comprehend this, but so it is.

Why does this happen? Why would people ignore the idea of the album, the concept of a package of songs put together for a reason and with a purpose?

The answer, as so many things seem to be these days, is commercial music marketing.

As an independent music fans, we like to blame everything on The Man. Big labels are marketing bad artists. Everything in commercial music is overproduced. There’s nothing original about the mainstream. Whether or not these claims are founded, there is still one problem about commercial music: it is stuck in single-land. Everything is about the one or two or maybe even three songs that will be played hundreds of times a week on the radio, the ones that everyone will see and hear and know really well before the album even hits the shelves. The rest of the album is filler.

Instead of conceiving an album as a whole, it is seen by much of the commercial music industry as just a collection of songs, some of which are good, and others that are throwaway tracks. This is totally different from the view of the independent music industry, where often the single (because it is more commercial and supposed to be radio-ready) is the throwaway track and the deep cuts are the best stuff. Interesting.

Here’s another response to the prompt that accentuates this idea: I don’t think I have ever seen (or heard) an album on which I liked every single song or even most of the songs, so for me, albums are usually a disappointment.

I don’t have a great all-revealing point or conclusion to bring to this idea, but I think that a lot of it speaks for itself. Why is the album no longer important, and why are artists producing, or being made to produce, so many filler tracks? It used to be that being signed or distributed by a major label (Universal, EMI, Sony, Warner) was the biggest and best thing that could happen. Now the “new major labels” are highly-regarded independent ones, like Matador (Pavement, AC Newman, Belle & Sebastian, Cat Power, Lou Reed).

There’s quite a lot of debate possible here, of course. Perhaps it’s not entirely due to commercial marketing campaigns. The digital age really does promote the single song; if you hear something on the radio, you can just download that one song, whether illegally or from Amazon or iTunes, and never see nor hear the rest of the record. Some people have no idea what the album cover even looks like for many of the songs that they listen to for this exact reason. Unfortunately, it seems infinitely more prevalent in commercial-land than it does in indie circles; the trend with independents is “returning to your roots,” or kicking back to the days of LPs and 45s, buying full albums, getting the artwork, and listening to things as a whole.

If you are in disagreement at the end of this post, and you still do not like albums because most of the ones you’ve heard, like the speaker in the second example, are disappointing, here is a short and by no means complete list of some of the albums that I own that are “dingers” — in other words, where I do not feel the need to skip a single song. Maybe you’ll find them to your liking. I can only hope you do.

Miles Davis – Kind of Blue (1959)
Dave Brubeck Quartet – Time Further Out (1961)
Paul & Linda McCartney – Ram (1971)
The Jam – All Mod Cons (1978)
Joel Plaskett – In Need of Medical Attention (1999)
David Braid Sextet – The David Braid Sextet (2001)
Thelonious Monk Quartet with John Coltrane – At Carnegie Hall (2005; rec 1957)
The Flashing Lights – Sweet Release (2005)
Jetplanes of Abraham – Jetplanes of Abraham (2006)
Field Music – Tones of Town (2007)
Elliott Brood – Mountain Meadows (2008)

• Dolly Parton’s “Jolene” is an awesome song. It’s #217 on Rolling Stone’s 500 Greatest Songs of All Time – a list which is, of course, biased toward American and British acts, left out various influential artists, and includes nothing before 1940, but still! – and it is truly excellent. Not only does Dolly deliver marvelously, but the very structure of the song lends itself to a sound of desperation. Oh my lordy, I have listened to it seven times today.
   

• I didn’t manage to catch on to hip hop well enough in 2007, but Aesop Rock’s None Shall Pass and Buck 65’s Situation are both absolutely amazing (and would have been on my top 10 list, had I been smart enough to hear them when they were released). The former features tunes with the likes of John Darnielle of the Mountain Goats, and even has a song called “Bring Back Pluto” that begins And then there were eight, just like that. Um, awesome. Situation features Spanish guitar and quotes of the Clapping Song and Allen Ginsberg, as well as some seriously great singles like the percussion-filled “Dang”.
   

• The Futureheads‘ album This Is Not The World is awesome. I said I would review it and dropped the ball, so here it is in a few words: it is better than News & Tributes and almost as good as The Futureheads. The first single, “The Beginning of the Twist”, is classic catchy, spastic Futureheads fare; the production on everything is a little cleaner than their S/T, but thankfully not as slick as the unfortunate News work. I like it more and more every week. Well done, Sunderlanders. Now bring back Field Music!
   

• I am seeing Squeeze in 17 days. Not that I am particularly excited or anything.

Goodies:
Aesop Rock, None Shall Pass
The Futureheads, The Beginning of the Twist
Buck 65, The Outskirts