Posts by Jeff Strowe

For a band pushing the 40-year mark of existence, Iggy and the Stooges blast through these songs with a strong, vital sense of purpose and confidence. Ready to Die has some hiccups, but it is more a statement of timely purpose and a reminder that they’re still around and capable of hanging in there with a new generation of rock fans. You get the feeling that Iggy will be around a while to grind out his continued power strokes to the masses. 

A similar movement is currently happening again down in Nashville, where a new and hearty collective have come together not only as musicians, but as ambassadors of the DIY, all-in-it-together ethos traditionally seen in the punk movement, but now surfacing forth in Americana. One of its’ brightest ambassadors, Caitlin Rose, rolled into New York City Monday night for a packed show at the Mercury Lounge.

Their relative youth, occupancy on the eminent Merge Records roster, and previous involvement in punkish outfits, they are also critically alluded as country music for the cool crowd, a band that even the bearded and cynical can get behind and support.

For their fourth album, Stockholm-based Shout Out Louds tried that common “take a step back in order to take a step forward” approach so often attempted by artists stuck in a rut. Although 2010’s Work found Adam Olenius and Co. playing to some on some of their biggest and brightest stages, the vibe just didn’t seem to gel, and the band’s brightly colored musical palette turned a bit more muted and ill fitting.

The release of James’ solo album, Regions of Light and Sound of God, has afforded him the opportunity to bring his eclectic musical sound-scapes back to those smaller venues, giving him the freedom and intimacy to try new ideas and providing onlookers (which tonight included The Roots drummer Questlove and Mad Men/Community star Allison Brie beaming from the side of the stage) a close-up view of the action.

It’s a strong diversion from the tenacity of his MMJ work, but not the complete 180 degree turn into the wild that plagues some artists’ solo outings. With all these creative energies and restless thoughts hounding at James, we should expect further like-minded explorations in the years to come.

Everyone loves Tom Petty. For over 35 years, he’s been a constant staple of the rock and roll landscape, writing honest and straightforward vignettes that always seem to unify the varied branches of the music universe. He’s the common ground that connects the hipster to the mainstream, the urban liberal to the red-state conservative, the jaded blogger to the well-worn classic rock scribe.

In contrast, a more straightforward and earnest Newman appears on Shut Down The Streets, his first album in three years, and this new-found openness is a direct result of a tumultuous time period that saw Newman experience the extreme ends of adulthood.  Like most middle-aged men, his life changed quickly and forcefully, as his first child was welcomed into the world around the same time that his mother passed away.

The Mountain Goats’ latest release, Transcendental Youth comes complete with something new and shiny.  No, it’s not the lyrics or subject matter.  Rest assured, longtime listeners, John Darnielle is still eloquently mining the depths of the fragile human psyche for some of his best material, dropping lines like “Long black night/Morning frost/I’m still here/But all is lost” with aplomb throughout the album’s twelve tracks.  However, this time around, the songs are buoyed by a rousing and sometimes even uplifting horn section, expertly arranged by the emerging and proficient musical jack-of-all-trades Matthew E. White

Punishing and brutal; sweeping and cinematic, are just several adjectives that would not be out of place to describe Swans’ 12th proper studio album, The Seer.  And at nearly two hours in length, the allusions to film are not that misleading.

 Patterson Hood puts his entire being into his performances and the crowd is always assured of getting its money’s worth.

It’s hard to be critical of a young singer-songwriter full of promise and fanfare. However, the world already has plenty of artists who can deftly balance the sad sack act with other, more tuneful spins on the folk tradition. If LeBlanc wants to have staying power, he’d be wise to dial down the weepiness and give himself a more aggressive kick in the up-tempo direction. 

It seems as though “supergroups” have become the latest trend in rock music. Each year, scores of musicians are setting aside their traditional outputs and collaborating on releases with contemporaries or like-minded thinkers. The autumn of 2012 brings forth Divine Fits. In the accompanying press notes for their debut album, A Thing Called Divine Fits, the wise Gerard Cosley warns listeners to not judge the band’s music by its’ members prior output.

Yeasayer’s music typically demands patience and repeated listens, elements that lack a bit from this release as the songs don’t reveal many hidden layers.  With Fragrant World, they miss the mark a little bit, but it’s still a noble enough attempt to keep people interested in following their career arc. It will be fun to watch which direction they embark upon next and decipher what chapter of their evolvement this release falls under.

Any write-up of Swedish singer-songwriter Kristian Matsson, aka The Tallest Man on Earth, inevitably makes the Bob Dylan comparison.  The parallels are there, what with the loose, acoustic fingerpicking, the scraggly voice, and the Greenwich Village vibe all present as hallmarks of Matsson’s sound.  However, Dylan appraisals are pointless and derivative unless the songs are there and can stand on their own.

Alejandro Escovedo has always been one of the hardest working men in the business, but lately he’s set the bar high even for his own lofty standards. About midway through Monday night’s set at Maxwell’s in Hoboken, Escovedo sheepishly admitted that the band was still going strong at this late weeknight hour, despite the fact that they had been up and at it for nearly 24 hours.

The Polyphonic Spree are back out on the road, bringing their good-time cheer and revelry to adoring audiences in much the same vein as they have been doing for the past ten years. If you haven’t seen them since their early 2000’s heyday, here’s what you missed: Nothing. 

The Walkmen have been on an incredible winning streak, composing stellar albums and putting on electric shows for well over a decade now.  Their star has risen to the point where they have attracted a strong enough fan base that allows them to follow their life changes in song as well as in real time.  They’ve moved from chronicling the unpredictability of twenty-something life to meditating on a new set of challenges that accompanies a new chapter of life.  Here, they march right along without skipping a beat.

Over the course of ten tracks, Mancini leads his band-mates through an infectious bounty of sharp rhythmic, reggae-inflected tunes that pulse through with sharp energy and positive vibes.  There’s no deep rooted catharsis taking place on this album, nor are there veiled metaphors or exercises in haughty self-aggrandizing.  It’s not an album that demands your attention or begs for close introspection.  What is it, then?  It’s a fun listen filled with crafty grooves and sharp musicianship; listen to the twinkling keys that interlock with the horn section on “Trouble”, the rat-a-tat snare fills that anchor the Buddy Holly-esque “Little Things”, or the sneaky guitar work of “Blue Bag”. 

Lower Dens hails from Baltimore, an important fact to consider when listening to their music.  It’s a trippy, synth-fueled and mystifying sound that alternates between pulsing, metronomic beats and more languidly buzzing slow burners.