KEXP Blog of the Day

What'd you think of yesterday's KEXP Song of the Day? Here's what it did for me

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Widowspeak - All Yours

Dreamy, quiet, shy; these are all ways that you might describe the music of Widowspeak. Appropriately, another descriptor is beautiful, and “All Yours” shows Widowspeak at its best, showing off all those qualities perfectly. The song features instrumentation and vocals that will pleasantly lull you to sleep, a grin on your face.

Lazy acoustic guitar, conjuring a nice front-porch swing, opens the song, forming the song’s relaxed backbone, if such a thing exists. That acoustic opening is soon complimented by soaring, reverb-drenched, noodling guitar that become ubiquitous, courtesy of Robert Earl Thomas, Widowspeak’s male half. And while the instrumentation, which also features the subtle addition of an organ to the song’s chorus, is nice, the band’s other half really is the highlight.

That other half would be vocalist Molly Hamilton. The meek vocals that come from Hamilton are what give this tune the “shy” tag, as her arpeggiated opening line of “I start looking for you” is incredibly hushed, seemingly begging to sit in the background. I can’t imagine wanting more bravado from Hamilton’s performance, though. Her execution of lyrics that express both longing and regret create the perfect dynamic, the “They’re all yours” chorus and subsequent “Ooh”s borderline genius in their simplicity.

While the song’s title and cutesy feel make this one feel like a love song, it’s really about love lost. “There was something else on your mind, there was someone else on your mind” Hamilton sings, lamenting what once was. Coming to this realization is a bit of a downer, as it’s the lone negative on a song that’s sunny, smiley, and positive.

Listen to the song here: http://bit.ly/1D0aNAY

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Girls Names - Reticence

If you read this blog on any sort of regular basis, you know that there are few things that bother me more than a bland song that doesn’t try to mix things up enough. When something isn’t working, try something different, bands! With that said, skewing the other way can be troublesome, too. Songs with sections that are too drastically different can be an ultimate letdown, or just confuse listeners. Such is the case with Girls Names’ “Reticence”; while the effort to be unique is there, the dichotomy between the song’s two themes is a bit much.

“Reticence” begins in a way that made me think I was about to hear the noisy spaz-core band my 20 year old self was waiting for. Girls Names’ guitarists open the song by strumming notes a half step apart, conjuring the opening of Converge’s “The Saddest Day.” The band’s drummer joins in, pounding his toms. The bass adds a driving line that makes it seems like this one could soon go off the rails, while more guitars add layer upon layer of ominous noise, each phrase closed by a distorted two-bar riff that feels like an attack.

But then the song’s opening ends, making a decidedly stark transition. All of a sudden, the guitars are meek, the bass bouncy, leading an almost ska-like bop. Vocalist Cathal Cully makes his first appearance, his Northern Irish brogue making his Morrissey-esque vocals barely distinguishable. At first, the transition is interesting, a ballsy about face to say the least. But as the song goes on, I found myself annoyed that Girls Names hadn’t yet hinted back at the song’s opening. While they do introduce a great instrumental bridge that contains some great keyboard work, I legitimately wondered if some sneaky audio engineer had spliced two disparate songs together.

That thought is proven wrong in “Reticence”’s finals moments, though, as the band blasts through one more pass of the demonic opening lick. Without this closing, the surprising opening would’ve been rendered even more out of place, but it also serves as a reminder of how the band, while obviously talented at playing multiple styles of rock music, couldn’t be bothered to try to unify “Reticence”’s two dominant themes.

Listen to the song here: http://bit.ly/1CUdIeh

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Small Feet - All and Everyone

In the wrong hands, whistling can be the death of a pop song. While bands like Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros have been able to pull it off in recent years, there are also more than a few instances, much like the addition of a children’s chorus, where whistling is just campy. The effect can certainly work though, and has rarely been executed as well as Small Feet does on “All and Everyone.”

The song opens with the aforementioned whistle choir, and while it’s not immediately evident how it’ll turn out, the pursed lips are reminiscent of other modern pop-folkers who’ve made a similar attempt. As the charmingly out of tune group continues, they hit a snag that could’ve derailed them, but instead turns pleasantly memorable. The whistlers encounter notes that are clearly out of their range, but damned it they don’t go for those notes in the name of the song’s beautiful main tune. Few humans could get to those pitches, so Small Feet’s inability to get there is oddly comforting.

OK, enough about whistling. What turns out to be a signature intro gives way to vocalist Simon Stålhamre, who sings with a fraught wail. Stålhamre’s voice is reminiscent of a more effeminate James Mercer, particularly as he hits the song’s chorus. The shakiness in his voice is, like the pitchiness of the whistle, almost comforting, a sign of humanity that he can’t quite get to the adventurous notes that complete an otherwise gorgeous, haunting melody.

“All and Everyone” clocks in at a mere 2:30, which is the only point of contention I had; I wanted this one to go on for another verse or two, and was ready for Stålhamre to take his voice down an octave and give us a nice brooding bridge. Instead, the final whistle chorus fades to a quiet orchestra hit of an ending, a literal needle pulled off the record at the end of nice song that ends just a little too early.

Listen to the song here: http://bit.ly/1RZzdBs

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Kid Wave - Wonderlust

From the moment “Wonderlust” begins, I couldn’t help but feel like I was in for something special. While I didn’t know who Kid Wave was, or even what type of music they played, the song’s alt-country, guitar-driven intro channeled early Wilco, twangy and a bit sad, yet still a riff that was catchy as hell. Expecting a Jeff Tweedy sound alike to join the song on vocals, I was instead hit with a pleasant surprise half a minute in.

It turns out Kid Wave is a pseudonym for Lea Emmery, a Swedish songstress who began recording under the name in 2011. Emmery’s vocals are hushed and processed as the first verse begins, a toned down Karen O impression of sorts. With her melancholy vocals, the instrumentation of the song changes suddenly, that catchy guitar riff replaced identically by a piano that suits the mood set by Emmery’s vocals a bit better.

That great riff comes back though, Emmery’s vocals getting cheerier with it. Though she’s singing the seemingly dejected chorus, “It’s like I’m running, always running around” her vocals nonetheless are considerably happier, likely because the production temporarily ditches the verse vocals’ heavy reverb.  Emmery and her band spend a few verses and choruses trading between these two competing sections, and to great success; the dichotomy between the two sections is striking, and the fact that the band and producer matched the necessary instrument-vocal pairings admirable.

Emmery lets her band, a group she recruited from London’s indie-rock scene, rock out a bit. After her second “Always running around” chorus, it’s time for the drawn out guitar lead and solo, backed by yeoman drum and bass work, that wasn’t hard to seeing after the song’s auspicious intro. The band finish it off with one last extended chorus, leaving a good taste in the mouth of listeners who’ll have a tough time finding nits to pick.

Listen to the song here: http://bit.ly/1COIhlZ

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Ghost Pains - Arboretum

Sometimes our favorite songs have clear allusions to genres that the musicians don’t explicitly allow to creep into their music. For example, the Talking Heads were one of rock’s greatest bands, and while their music was clearly influenced by punk rock, it’s unlikely you’d have ever called them a punk band. And it worked damn well. Ghost Pains, on the other hand, spend much of “Arboretum” implying that they’re a punk-influence group too, and while they sound nothing like the Talking Heads, they also don’t let that punk influence shine through to give the song the boost it needed.

While there are punk elements here, “Arboretum” doesn’t straddle the line of genre well enough to be called pop-punk. The band’s vocalist, who joins the song after a muted opening guitar riff that proves to be among the song’s high points, has a voice that sounds like it’d fit in well with many popular emo/rock bands of last decade, an edge to it that doesn’t quite go over the line to whiny.

But the music on “Arboretum” is just too straightforward to support any theories that Ghost Pains is much more than your standard rock band. The chorus of “Arboretum, Monday drive” doesn’t have quite the kick that the song’s verses suggest it could be capable of, and the minor, Offspring-influenced guitar chords the band tosses in behind those verses doesn’t move the needle.

What’s worse, Ghost Pains end “Arboretum” in about the worst way I could imagine, simply altering the strum pattern of the song’s choruses, letting their guitars ring out to bid the song goodbye after the driving opening guitar riff had returned to give listeners some redemption. It’s one of few high points here, and I couldn’t help but wonder what that riff might’ve sounded like within the context of a song whose influences were a bit less muddied.

Listen to the song here: http://bit.ly/1I2S0Rs

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Lightouts - More Than Ever

A public service announcements to bands and solo artists everywhere: If you’re going to build suspense in your songs and keep listeners waiting for the payoff, it’d be nice if you actually gave it to them. Or at least, that was my thought as I listened to the first half of Lightouts’ “More Than Ever,” a song from a band whose Cure influence is written all over both their online presense and music.

That buildup comes in the form of a quiet, basic drum and bass riff, an ominous guitar riff occasionally joining the fray to add tension. It feels like we’re building to something big, but the intro just never breaks into something bigger. I suppose that the band would argue that the point the intro builds to is the second verse, as a strummed distorted guitar makes its first appearance, backing the whispered “Hoo, hah” that comes from the band’s vocalist. While certainly bigger and louder, this second verse doesn’t feel like anything more than derivative of a section of the song that simply doesn’t work.

However, while it doesn’t bear much musical resemblance to the song’s frustrating intro, the feel of “More Than Ever” makes a great change with about a minute left. The guitars switch off their distortion pedals, favoring a catchy, staccato, shuffling melody that’s pleasant and bouncy. The crooning vocals are also given a lift, singing more tunefully and melodically, telling a warbling story in the style of Morrissey while a laser-like guitar lead injects even more energy and light into the instrumentation.

Such a great change of pace for a song that starts off so disappointingly is refreshing, but this listener can’t help but wonder what could’ve been. While I’m the first to criticize a band and song for not mixing things up enough, finding what works in a song can be just as big a sin. Here’s hoping that the treat that Lightouts gives listeners in “More Than Ever”’s back half is a true reflection of what the band is aiming for.

Listen to the song here: http://bit.ly/1RA8yLa

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Weed - Stay in the Summer

Any conversation about Weed is inevitably going to start with a discussion about the band’s name, so let’s go ahead and get it out of the way; Weed is an awesome band name. Though the band claims that the name is about weeding someone out of your life and not a reference to sticky-icky, it’s nonetheless a ballsy name, whether it’s referencing sticky-icky or a green-thumb’s chores. And on top of that great band name, “Stay in the Summer” is exactly the sort of psych-rock song you’d hope a so-monikered name would produce.

It’s clear that listeners are going to get the vibe that they bargained for very early on. After some “Castles Made of Sand”-esuqe guitar noodling, a guitar amp squeals, signalling the song’s beginning (and making you jump out of your skin a bit if you’re driving a car or riding public transportation), introducing the fuzzy, slightly out of tune guitars that become a staple of the song. Vocalist Will Anderson’s vocals compliment the guitars perfectly, his vocals low-key, low-energy, and artfully out of tune.

As the song goes on, the band ventures out of their shoegazey comfort zone that they could have easily stayed in. When the first chorus hits, Anderson raises his simple choral vocals up an octave, injecting some new life. The instrumentation gets even grungy and gloomier in the chorus’ aftermath, hitting their chords hard and letting them ring out, a Nirvana-like guitar wail warbling along on top.

For as meandering as “Stay in the Summer” may seem to those unfamiliar with Weed, it turns out to be a fairly structured tune. After two verse/chorus combinations, the band takes the opportunity to lay back a bit, changing their chord progressions just enough to give a bridge some uniqueness. Anderson doesn’t bother to come back for one last choral shout, allowing the band’s guitars, the true highlight of the song, do the talking, serving as an appropriate final impression.

Listen to the song here: http://bit.ly/1RA8yLa

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MOURN - Gertrudis, Get Through This!

Some of the best punk rock songs are those that aren’t exactly played with 100% precision. In fact, as bands of the genre age and gain experience and expertise, it’s not uncommon for a once raw band to seem too polished. It’s normally younger punk bands that make the most meaningful music, and to call MOURN young would be an understatement.

Hailing from Barcelona, MOURN is comprised of a bunch of kids - their four members range between ages 16-19, and, with the exception of drummer Antonio Echevarria, are all female. Their youth and female-ness give “Gertrudis, Get Through This!” a decided angst and energy. Below a single note guitar lead, vocalists Jazz Rodríguez Bueno and Carla Pérez Vas shout the deliberately worded first verse, one word at a time. They stretch the line “You know what I think about love, and I don’t want to!” into an entire verse, cleverly turning a single lyric into a passage that builds considerable suspense.

The song’s chorus is similarly simple, but again is quite thrilling. Bueno shouts the encouraging title of the song, and while it’s not clear who or what Gertrudis is, any listener will be inspired to get through whatever she’s dealing with. From there, the band’s vocalists get a bit more involved. Subsequent verses feature the band’s same raw instrumentation, but a more dynamic set of lyrics in the song’s bridge change the feel up just enough.

The guitar and bass work seemingly gets sloppier and more out of tune as the song progresses, particularly in the closing instrumental break that follows the song’s final bridge. No matter though; the appeal of MOURN is hardly their musicality, or lack thereof. In fact, the live, novice impression that you get from “Gertrudis” is quite charming. Hopefully before MOURN really hones their craft, they’ll provide plenty more angsty classics to look back on.

Listen to the song here: http://bit.ly/1MuPpUp

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Du Blonde - Black Flag

Upon hearing the first few bars of “Black Flag,” a tribute to the seminal punk band of the same name seemed inevitable. An ominous, minor bass line sets a dark mood over a tribal, tom-led drum line. Soon, a distorted guitar mimics the bass, and the whole band hits a point in the song where it feels like the tempo is about to go breakneck.

Imagine my surprise, then, when the beautiful voice of Beth Houghton emerges after that intro. Houghton sings “Slow down baby, you’ll fall in love again,” and soon tells us that the black flag she’s referencing is much more literal. “Raise your flag in the morning, black flag for the mourning.” Houghton, who makes her debut as Du Blonde on Welcome Back to Milk, “Black Flag”’s parent album, performs her vocals with a mystery that evokes some of rock’s most successful female vocalists.

“Black Flag” locks into the stoner/doom that it lays down early on, rarely deviating from the hypnotic drum/bass lead from the song’s opening bars. The instrumentation plays nicely with Houghton’s voice, which, while on the one hand silky smooth, also lends itself to the genre that Du Blonde seems to be going for here.

And while that relationship works well enough, it’s not quite enough to keep this listener interested. With the exception of some occasional guitar wankery, a middle east inspired keyboard break, and a bridge that features Houghton venturing a bit too far outside of her range, “Black Flag” gets less and less engaging as the song wears on. As the band drags out the last couple notes, I couldn’t help but with they’d keep going, hoping they’d find another moment to latch onto.

Listen to the song here: http://bit.ly/1I1oIHd

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Black Whales - The Warm Parade

Do all bands have the stones to start a song from their breakthrough album with a “Whoop!” that seemingly imitates the animal that they’ve named their band after? It seems unlikely, but that’s just what Black Whales do on “The Warm Parade.” It’s an appropriately light-hearted opening, as the song proves a gleeful driving tune that’s appropriate to the season.

Soon after that whoop, the song begins in full force, a kick-drum driven first verse featuring the heavily reverberant vocals of Alex Robert. They say you can’t trust a man with two first names, but Robert’s verses, while certainly repetitive, are reliably catchy and hummable.

It’s the song’s choruses, though, that really stand out here. Robert repeats “I feel a light is coming on” almost ad nauseam, and while the repetition could be construed by some listeners as overkill, it creates a very specific effect that’s important to the feel of the song. Robert’s vocal line is backed up by a hypnotic, joyous synthesizer line that really does feel like it shines a light upon the song. Combine the lead vocal and synth with some subtle backing oohs and aahs, and this chorus is about as summery as you’re going to get. 

Black Whales follow those great choruses with more synth work, encompassing several bridge sections that emphasize the joy that the chorus illicits. The song stays simple and to the point, and though it clocks in at 3:30 on account of a middling tempo, feels like a quick blast of a song that could be put on repeat all day long.

Listen to the song here: http://bit.ly/1fuo1M6

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The Heavenly States - The Specialist

Mania, chaos, uncomfortability; these are the tenets that seem to influence the music of The Heavenly States. The band, who hails from Southern California and has been making music for about 15 years, have long been compared to bands like Pavement, Husker Du, and Ted Leo & the Pharmacists - pop rock bands with a unique edge and energy to their music. “The Specialist,” from the band’s strangely packaged new album, exhibits all that the band represents, for better or worse.

It’s clear that “The Specialist” is going to be a ball of energy right from the top. The band introduces the song with a tempo setting snare drum beat, underscored by the song’s trademark guitar riff, a clean, punk-influenced riff that has a charming practice amp sound to it. Soon, the ramblings of Ted Nesseth begin, outlining just who “The Specialist” is. As he continues, the story becomes less about who “The Specialist” is, and more about the strange things he does to prove that he’s a specialist. Nesseth’s delivery is part David Byrne and part Craig Finn, straddling the line between singing and shouting.

The pace of the song stays high throughout, the band’s new Austin-based rhythm section keeping up with Nesseth. He and Genevieve Gagon are the band’s primary members, and Gagon gets some time on the mic, too. Though here contributions are minimal, she provides one of the song’s best moments, singing “Calibrate chemically neutered invertebrates” as the band drops out behind her. The line is delivered with a distinct effect that makes it sound like a recorded announcement coming over an intercom. Gagon’s vocals are one of the few effect-laden aspects of the song, and it comes as a nice change of pace for an otherwise straight up rock song.

However, after Gagon’s vocals attempt to set “The Specialist” on a slightly different course, the song ends rather abruptly, Nesseth still demanding that “I’m a specialist.” The Heavenly States have a definite appeal, particularly to fans of 80s punk/pop like the Replacements. And while “The Specialist” shows what the band is capable of, the song simply runs out of steam. As Nesseth sings, “We don’t like that.”

Listen to the song here: http://bit.ly/1HfQWdv

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Junius Meyvant - Hailslide

As “Hailslide” opens, it’s hard for listeners who aren’t previously familiar with the work of Junius Meyvant to get a little excited. Above a simple funky drum and bass line, violins soar and horn lines crash in, the two sections playing back and forth with one another with the precision of the finest orchestra. As a vocalist joins the equation, it becomes a bit clearer who Junius Meyvant is, and the picture of what’s to come on “Hailslide” gets a little clearer.

Meyvant is, of course, the singer who joins the song 30 seconds in, and while I’m sure it’s not exactly the most original comparison, Meyvant has a distinct Ray LaMontagne quality to him. His voice is similarly soulful, his lyrics similarly evocative, carefully chosen for the way the words sound. “Hailslide in the groove, feels like water, sweet like honey” he sings repeatedly, ending each chorus with a satisfying moan. He’s then smart enough to get out of the way to let his amazing string and horn sections show off.

Souful and satisfying as the vocal passages are here, “Hailslide” really is all about the instrumentation. It’s not hard to picture a conductor standing in front of the band, signaling the entrance and exit of each of the intricate passages. While the notes that the horns and strings doesn’t change much throughout the song, the gusto with which they’re performed increases as we get further in, the arrangements becoming more and more ambitious and overlapping.

Still, it’s important to remember what Meyvant adds to “Hailslide.” Hailing from Iceland, he has a great sense of what works on this tune, a maturity that seems common of his musical countrymates. A record that featured elaborate groups of musicians backing him up was what propelled LaMontagne to star status. and “Hailslide,” includes on Meyvant’s self-titled album that’s scheduled to drop next week, is a song that will have people’s attention.

Listen to the song here: http://bit.ly/1dOWfrX

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Hippo Campus - Suicide Saturday

After reading up a bit on the history of Hippo Campus, it’d be hard for any informed indie rock fan to not think of Vampire Weekend. Their story is quite similar, with the exception of geography; while Vampire Weekend met as precocious students in New York City, Hippo Campus hails from Minnesota. On the other hand, both bands feature four young guys who seem to all value a variety of musical influences, and both have a keen knack for catchy pop-rock, as evidenced by “Suicide Saturday.”

An extremely low-pitched guitar lead kicks off “Suicide Saturday,” immediately creating the warmest of effects. The interplay between guitar and bass to create this line proves both memorable and comfortable, as every time the band comes back to the riff, it’s a welcome return. Vocalist Jake Luppen joins the rest of the band with a first verse that’s fairly mundane, but leads nicely to the song’s eponymous chorus shout.

The second set of verse and chorus follows the same formula, and by the end of the second chorus, listeners may rightfully wonder where “Suicide Saturday” is headed. Luckily, the song’s bridge provides a change of pace that’s much  needed. Luppen and his band chant “Oh, don’t you wait now” along with some creative percussion and guitar wankery that will draw positive comparisons to Local Natives. The crowning moment is when the bass and rhythm guitar drops out, the band continuing to belt out the signature bridge vocal, accompanied by that energizing percussion and guitar lead, perfectly exposed.

There are a great many songs that start promisingly enough, don’t quite build enough momentum, and as a result ultimately falls flat. “Suicide Saturday” does not fall victim to such a fate. The opening of the song is fine, but nothing to write home about. However, given the way Hippo Campus ends the song, any minor sins committed early on are forgiven.

Listen to the song here: http://bit.ly/1Cn1hYq

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Saun & Starr - Gonna Make Time

Despite what your college roommate would’ve had you believe, there’s a time and place for reggae. While the genre promotes peace and relaxation, it can nonetheless get tiresome in the wrong hands and quantities. With that said, the depths of a hot summer is certainly the right time for reggae, and the hands of Saun & Starr, a duo who came up under the tutelage of the great Sharon Jones, are the right ones.

Like most good reggae tunes, “Gonna Make Time” makes the most of a small yet diverse set of instruments. The song opens with a set of bongos and an almost forgotten-sounding guitar riff setting the relaxed tune. Saun & Starr make great use of this backing bed, showing off pipes that, given the great soul and R&B groups they’ve performed with, will not surprise in how impressive they are. They sing “Gonna make time for my baby” with a passion and beauty that are both intoxicating and damn catchy.

Great as that chorus is, though, it precedes the section that’s most likely to have listeners humming as they walk away from the song. A muted horn section joins the fray with a basic lick that sing-able, but whose volume doesn’t alter the mellow mood of the tune. The trumpet and tenor sax duo will be a welcome sound to fans of The Slackers, and like-minded rocksteady bands.

Saun & Starr really take the opportunity to show off their vocal chops during the song’s second and final verse. When they harmonize on the line “But I don’t want to see another,” they create a sound that hadn’t been previously heard on “Gonna Make Time.” While up until then, their voices had been undeniably impressive, this is the “Wow” moment when listeners really find out what these great musicians can do together.

Listen to the song here: http://bit.ly/1S98kpr

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Hibou - Dissolve

“1, 2, 3, 4″ counts Peter Michel, aka Hibou, at the beginning of “Dissolve,” a throw away intro that proves rather predictive. “Dissolve” is a dreamy pop tune that channels the reverb-heavy guitar work of Tears For Fears and their 80s contemporaries. The song is consistently musical, and follows its vocal lead in by maintaining an impressive precision throughout.

The song starts with an Intricately strummed guitar lead that’s quiet, minor, and mysterious. This sound will become familiar to listeners; precise guitar work is constantly present across the song. Michel’s hushed vocals, layered with effects, soon join the mystery, and are joined on the chorus for the song’s high point. A female doubled vocal joins in, creating a mesmerizing yet simple effect. The song’s opening guitar lead returns after the first chorus, and proves to be a passage that’s capable of filling any of “Dissolve”’s vocal gaps.

While this feels like a song that could easily just repeat its basic structure, Michel keeps things fresh with minimalism. First, the otherwise ever-present guitars take a backseat during the second verse, before reversing course. He and his backing vocalist’s beautifully in-sync voices are backed on the chorus solely by a familiar reverberant guitar. This passage could’ve easily included the metronome drumbeat that accompanies the rest of “Dissolve,” but the change gives the song new energy just after its midpoint.

Michel and company attempt to end the song with an even more extreme burst energy, but it falls flat. The band comes out of the second chorus with another guitar lead that feels like it’ll lead to one final verse, but instead sets the stage for a baroque-ish synthesizer solo that comes way out of left field. The solo is louder and far more active than anything “Dissolve” previously offered, but just doesn’t fit in. While changing the feel of a song toward its end can often break up monotony, this felt forced, and put a damper on the end of a song that otherwise had a lot going for it.

Listen to the song here: http://bit.ly/1CpwTg5

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Toro y Moi - Empty Nesters

Ever since emerging late last decade, Chaz Bundick, aka Toro Y Moi, has straddled genre lines. He first came to prominence as a DJ, sampling his way through his renowned debut Causers of This. Since then, further releases have seen Toro Y Moi as more of a R&B and funk influence outfit. On his new single “Empty Nesters,” Bundick and his band step into the world of 60s dream pop, at least for most of the song.

Having some familiarity with Toro Y Moi’s back catalog, I was surprised to hear “Empty Nesters” start with a fairly ambitious guitar lead. Utilizing a phasing effect, this quick 8-bar solo sets the tone for the instrumentation that comprises the first verse, ushering in a chorus of happy synths and, most notably Bundick’s vocals. His voice is cheery and in the clouds, joined by a group of smiley backing vocalists for a round of “ooh”s. The effect created is inspiring, and modern Beatles-influenced bands like Dr. Dog will be simultaneously impressed and jealou.s

Before you know it, though, Toro Y Moi is a funk band again. After the chorus ends, the band launches straight into a disco-infused bridge. Driven by a wah pedaled guitar and aggressively slapped bass line, this section feels almost like a jab at the inevitable jaded listener who thinks the band has gone soft. The funky bridge is punctuated by a distorted trumpet blast that soars to almost inaudible levels, before ushering back in another happy set of verse and chorus.

As the song winds on, Bundick and company expand on the summer of love feel, bringing back the introductory guitar for another solo late in the song that enhances the vibe of Toro Y Moi’s new found sound. The band gives listeners one more funk blast before revisiting the original theme. It’s telling that they begin and end the song with that same theme; while they have fun with the funky outtakes, it’s clear the impression that "Empty Nesters” wants to leave as it begins and ends.

Listen to the song here: http://bit.ly/1LSS39a

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Vaadat Chagirim - Ein Li Makom

It’s rare these days for a song to truly define the word “unique.” Merriam-Webster defines the word as “being the only one” or “being without a like or equal.” While even the most creative music shows signs of these definitions, most usually have some close comparison. Not so for Vaadat Chagirim, an Israeli shoegaze band whose “Ein Li Makom” is haunting for many reasons.

If you’ve ever read my previous blog posts, you know that I like to mention great or otherwise noteworthy lyrics. No need to bother here; as Vaadat Chagirim is Israeli, all of “Ein Li Makom”’s lyrics are in Hebrew. Nevertheless, the band’s vocals, handled by lead singer Yuval Haring, manage to be pretty tuneful, even to this English speaking listener. There’s some definite dark melody to his breathy, reverb-heavy voice.

In addition to the mysterious vocals, the band’s instrumentation adds a major layer to the haunting nature of “Ein Li Makom.” Spacious guitars, drums, and keyboards provide a backing that proves to be simultaneously subdued and driving. A clanging industrial keyboard sound and cutting snare drum keep the song rooted, while soaring guitar leads push the song forward when Haring’s vocals take a break.

I’m not sure how listenable an entire album of downtrodden, Hebrew-lyriced rock would be, but “Ein Li Makom” is an indication that it can be done. This tune seems like more of a trapped-indoors winter jam, but maybe summer is the best time to experience art that’s on the sadder side, to see if it sticks. Vaadat should prove a nice find for brooding music fans looking to get inside their own head this season.

Listen to the song here: http://bit.ly/1M082zi