The Freewheelin' Kristian Matsson

Is it a blessing or a curse to sound just like an early Bob Dylan?  Kristian Matsson might be the only man alive who knows for sure, but I suspect even he must have doubts.  At times, his most recent album, 'The Wild Hunt' is so reminiscent of classic albums like 'The Freewheeling Bob Dylan' and "Bringing it All Back Home" that a casual listener might for a moment think they were listening to a long forgotten b-side.  The differences are most definitely there, though, and it doesn't take long to appreciate where The Tallest Man on Earth (Kristian's stage moniker) uses his uncanny vocal resemblance to Mr. Dylan as a jumping off point for something that still feels fresh and relevant.

One thing Matsson learned well is that folk doesn't have to be soft, wilting or ambient (though there are some bands, like Horse Feathers, who do that sound rather well);  It can be raucous, angry and jubilant - sometimes all at the same time.  When Matsson sings "Driver don't go that fucking way," on 'You're Going Back', he stretches the epithet to the point of breaking and effect is downright unsettling.  This is not your mother's folk song. The Wild Hunt also borrows heavily from Dylan's lyric style, using convoluted lines the snake their way through a verse until you can barely recall where they began.  Take the opening line of the title track:

There is a crow moon comin' in well you keep looking out

It is the hollow month of march now sweeping in

Lets watch phenomenon's that rise out the darkness now

Within the light she is my storming heroin.

Matsson uses the juxtaposition of contrasting ideas (in/out,dark/light) frequently,  such as "I could roll you to hell / I could swim from your heavens."  The lyrics have a phenomenal sound to them, but they are dense to point of impenetrable at times, and border on beautiful nonsense. I've been thinking about a post on lyrics in general, and The Wild Hunt has plenty that are worth exploring.

There are definite departures from folk classics in Matsson's guitar work; He relies on quite an array of open-tunings that give each chord so many repeated notes that it feels like multiple guitars playing together.  It's a sort of folky 'wall of sound' with just one instrument, and it's quite in contrast with the spare finger-picking and alternating-bass strumming patterns that resonate on many of Dylan's best early tunes.

But the biggest stylistic differences between The Tallest Man and Dylan are in the subject matter.  Matsson is deeply personal at all times, though not without levity, such as in the joyful King of Spain, whereas Dylan's early songs were heavily infuenced by the political everyman philosophy of his country forebears.  You certainly won't hear Oxford Town in any of these tracks, and perhaps that's a loss, but if so, it's a loss that reaches far beyond The Tallest Man.  Politics have been more or less banned from popular music for some time, and if Matsson tried to bring it back, most people would just call him dated.  And, despite wearing his influences on his sleeve, The Tallest Man doesn't feel dated in the least.

The Tallest Man on Earth

Some people just know how to emote, like in this clip of The Tallest Man on Earth playing The Wild Hunt.

The Death of eMusic

This week I reached the decision to end my eMusic subscription after years of happy listening. I was a huge fan for a long time, and while I'm happy to see the company grow and succeed, the service also no longer supplies what made me love it's earlier incarnations.

For those who aren't familiar, eMusic has a rather long and complicated corporate history, but when I found the site in 2006, they were focused on offering DRM-free, indie-label music on a monthly subscription basis. Your $20 bought you 40-50 monthly downloads, so it was less than half the price of iTunes, and it was much more geared toward music discovery. TV on the Radio, Okkervil River, The National, The Black Keys, Arcade Fire, Andrew Bird, The Avett Brothers - I found them first on eMusic. There are so many more, too, that I could make a post just listing them all.

The editorial comment, the best of lists, the thoughtful user reviews - all these made the site valuable, but if I'm honest, I think it was the subscription model that made it so addictive. The money was already paid, so it encouraged me to explore, and try things without hesitation. I spent hours wandering through the site, clicking 'save for later' on all the albums that interested me. I knew exactly when my downloads reset every month and I would use them all in a day, getting the music that I had been looking at for weeks. Then I would spend the rest of the month listening, digesting, and occasionally falling in love.

There were losers in what I downloaded - 'Oneida' inspired strong emotions from some members, but I found it unlistenable. And there were others that I respected but never ignited my passion or that I enjoyed for a few weeks but didn't make a lasting impression. But then, hidden among all these bands, I would find the obsessions - the albums that would catch me on the first listen, and then grow like a weed into my brain with each pass until it was all I could listen to for days, even weeks on end. And it was those albums which inspired me to start writing about music.

When eMusic first took on a major label, I was not concerned - there was good music there that I looked forward to exploring. I like indie music because I often find it more inventive than what's on the big labels, but I'm not a label-snob. Still, increasingly eMusic has been taken over by the chart-toppers. And the price has gone up time and time again. Now, a $14 subscription buys $16 with of music, and the per-track price is barely lower than iTunes. eMusic claims their prices are half of iTunes, but that only seems to be true of the most obscure items. And now Amazon's prices are frequently as good or better.

I can't blame eMusic for what they are doing - they are a company like any other, and who can hold it against them for wanting to grow and succeed? But for me, I guess I'll be hunting down my next obsession elsewhere.

Django

I've been trying to learn Django Rheinhardt's spectactular solo from Minor Swing for a while now - for those of you who don't him, Django lost most of the use of his ring and pinkie on his right hand in a fire, but retaught himself to play guitar without them.  My guitar teacher pointed me to this film of Django, which is pretty incredible.  Sadly, the violinist (who is much less interesting to watch or listen to) gets most of the airtime, but Django's solo starts at 2:10, and there a few runs in there that will make your head spin.  Worth a watch.

Brothers - The Black Keys

Previous Black Keys albums always felt a little like someone took Spoon, sucked out most of the irony (a mixed blessing) and gave them a good lesson in blues-rock. The minimalist rock thing worked pretty well for both bands - solid hooks, raw energy and music that didn't feel produced to death. But there's always that point in a Spoon album where the repetition wears thin, and I can't help wondering if it wouldn't have been OK to maybe just add one-teensy little extra layer. Is it too much to ask for just one unexpected horn trill? Maybe a real bridge? I had the same problem with albums like Rubber Factory and ThickFreakness. When the hook was good enough, it could carry a song all by itself ('When the Lights Go Out' still rocks my world) - but it's damn hard to write an entire album of songs that can carry themselves on a single hook.

Enter Brothers. The Black Keys stopped being slaves to their own sound, and the results are phenomenal - when I heard Dan Auerbach doing an R&B falsetto 22 seconds into the first track (and doing it well), I knew I was in for something different, and I was digging it. When I heard the first shoo-wop from the backing vocals 40 seconds later (hey, whaddya know - a song CAN build!), I was hooked. 'Next Girl' takes it back into more familiar Black Keys territory, with Auerbach's vocals channeling a little Jack Bruce, but even here the game has been upped - there's new depth in the riffs, and real variation across chorus verse that breaks up the hook.

The subject matter is more personal too; When Auerbach sings "I'll be the go getter', he's just setting you up for this:

Palm trees, the flat broke disease

And L.A. has got me on my knees

I am the bluest of blues

Every day a different, different way to lose

The go getter

The disjointed bass and guitar parts seem to fall on top of the beat, stumbling through the song like a drunk making his way home after the sun has come up. Patrick Carney's drum work is sublime - a shifting pattern that always seems to skip the downbeat and missing 2 & 4 just enough that when he does hit them, it almost feels like just another syncopation. I'm always impressed by drummers who can give a song a new texture with what they do - many of the greatest virtuoso's of trap set don't have this quality. Carney has it in spades, and his work here is so finely tuned to needs of each song that it's easy to overlook just how 'right' it is. But that's true of so much of this album - every song is so carefully crafted, with nothing unnecessary, nothing that doesn't feel effortless, that it's a pleasure to just sink in and forget the artifice that makes this art.

The little house on Ellis Drive

Is where I felt most alive

The oak tree covered that old Ford

I miss it Lord, I miss it Lord