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Elliott
Smith
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Roman Candle/ From A Basement On The Hill
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Kill Rock Stars
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ESM Rating: 10/10 |
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Elliott
Smith’s mainstream popularity peaked
in 1998, after his heart-wrenching single “Miss Misery” appeared in smash
cinema hit Good Will Hunting. The
song was nominated for an Academy
Award, and Smith performed it at the
70th Academy Awards while wearing a white suit. That moment was about as far
away from the rest of the Texas-raised, Portland-centered singer/songwriter’s
career as possible — Smith battled
alcoholism, depression, and addiction throughout his adult life, experiences
reflected in seven powerful albums that are filled with tortured minor-key
musings and introspective acoustic gems.
Tragically, Elliott
Smith died in 2003 from two stab wounds to the chest; even more tragic,
no conclusive evidence has ever emerged to close the case on whether he
committed suicide or was murdered. Either way, his body of work only continues
to grow in prominence, and now Kill Rock Stars — who released his two mid
‘90s masterpieces Elliott Smith and Either/Or — has remastered and
re-released 1994 debut album Roman Candle and 2004’s From A Basement On The
Hill, which contained the last songs Smith worked on before he died.
The earlier album has been tweaked to correct many of
the harsh guitar squeaks and jarring vocal tracks that Smith encountered when he recorded Roman Candle on borrowed four-tracks, but the raw immediacy and
stark beauty of songs like “Condor Ave.” and “No Name #1, #2, and #3” remain,
whispered vocals and delicate fingerpicked chords still kicking the listener in
the gut with every listen. From A
Basement On The Hill didn’t receive major changes, but as the loudest and
hardest rocking album of Smith’s discography,
it stands as the perfect counterpoint to Roman
Candle — in the space of less than 10 years, Smith went from being an intensely personal, abrasively quiet
musician to a wildly experimental singer/songwriter anxious to break his mold
while still staying true to his art. If you’ve ever felt a twang of depression
or an inexplicable moment of gloomy nostalgia, Elliott Smith has a song that will change your life. Listen to it
now. By
Nick McGregor
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| Spanish
Gamble |
It’s All Coming Down
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| Paper + Plastick |
| ESM Rating: 8/10 |
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Spanish Gamble has
all the endearing qualities of Florida punk rock, the best punk around. The punk
that helped me enjoy high school in Tampa, during which time it was the only
medicine I could take in order to survive the hundreds of times my brother beat
the shit out of me — or the 200 times we got the shit beaten out of us
together. Originally known as Dirty Money, this threesome with roots in New
Mexico added a fourth member in 2007 and discovered a new layer to their
talents before debuting at The Fest 7 in 2008 as Spanish Gamble. It’s
All Coming Down screams Gainesville to a tee; the album utilizes every bit
of non-annoying angst that is required to suffer the heat, banana hammocks, and
haphazard actions the “rest of Florida” and its outlaw nature proudly puts on
display.
Spanish Gamble approaches absurdity with insight and maturity. They back their
collective intelligence with equally brilliant guitar and drum work, catching
the mind and ear at bay and shaking both into complete submission. In all
honesty, I love the fact that Spanish Gamble is one of only a few groups
who have recently reminded me to enjoy angry fun, something that can be so
easily lost to monotony and inaction. I kind of want to beat the shit out of
them for messing up my routine.
Right now, Spanish
Gamble are touring on the seat of their pants, or something like that
— whichever phrase fits best to say that they’re sprawling their
Gainesville-bred energy all over the U.S. by whatever means necessary, starting
with their Florida stomping grounds on April 16th for a record release show,
working their way up to Virginia Beach, playing classic dives like Nobby’s in
St. Augustine along the way, and then heading west for the Pacific Coast.
Before they reach your local venue, you should seriously consider finding
someone you used to trade punches with and swing on them until they agree to go
with you to see Spanish Gamble up front. By William Port Whales |
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| Monster
Movie |
Everyone Is A Ghost
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| Graveface |
| ESM Rating: 8/10 |
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I have a terrible habit of imagining myself on a
motorcycle every time I listen to a good lo-fi album. The models are always
different: crotch rockets, vintage English Nortons, Iron Cruisers with my
friends riding by my side, us touring the country hills of England discovering
ourselves. When it comes to Monster Movie’s Everyone Is A Ghost, I’m climbing the Bolivian death road alone on a little Honda,
and I’m totally not scared because the nature of the album is keeping me all
chilled out and optimistic about not falling to my death. And if I were to fall
to my death, it would be OK, since the band’s lyrical content focuses on the
very landmarks of life that would make a “flash-before-your-eyes” type of event
one to go out on riding the wings of serendipity.
This London duo has collaborated for 20 years, and
incorporate the trials faced in that said time as an eventful climb culminating
in one blissful summit. They address divorce, death, love, marriage, and
everything in between, turning the combined influences into a stallion of synth
and instrumental abyss. Christian Savill and Sean Hewson own vocals clear and
concise enough to give a grip to the gazing instrumentals, just the way I want
to go out on my Honda — with clear guidance and encouraging pop.
Inclusive rhythmic riffs, banjo, ukulele, and
imperfect guitar transitions make Monster
Movie special. Their work trumps others who could fall into a dependable
style after such a lengthy time in close quarters. Everyone Is A Ghost is a mostly slow yet occasionally quick ascent
with every moment unpredictable. Even if it leaves you wet in the embankment or
falling to your death, you’ll enjoy every second. Coincidentally, it’s also a
great album to file your taxes to. By William Port Whales |
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| Ron Contour
& Factor |
Saffron
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| Fake Four Inc. |
| ESM Rating: 7/10 |
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“Great,” I thought upon reading the press release for
Canadian rapper Ron Contour’s latest
album, Saffron, recorded with help
from producer Factor. “Ron [is] the highly erratic, conceited,
spacey, wandering, loopy, and devastating emcee… who dropped out of the scene
altogether in 2000 to pursue girls and bee-keeping.’” Just what we need —
another hipster backpack rapper who thinks their shit don’t stink “blessing” us
with his abstract wanderings. And then I fired Saffron up and very nearly had my mind blown: lackadaisical rhymes
that clearly owe a debt to old-school hip-hop; beats that veer gracefully between
urgent and mellow; and an easygoing Native Tongues flow that’s instantly
enjoyable.
So who the hell is Ron Contour? Good question — his past releases have clouded
the line between his own personality and that of “distant cousin” Moka Only.
Yet album opener “Check It Out” allows Ron to quickly flex his rapid-fire lyrical muscle over Factor’s exuberant strings. A driving rock ‘n’ roll sample spices
up “Confused Nougat,” melancholia adds depth to “Glad,” and then “Whipple Tree”
gets funky with junk-shop percussion and references to Haagen-Dazs ice cream. But
“Prairie Wind” is the clear banger on Saffron,
an Ennio Morricone-style Spaghetti Western beat following Ron as he deftly details his globetrotting tour itinerary.
“Wondrous” crackles with snare-drum intensity, “I
Only Know” lays handclaps and deep bass lines behind Contour’s “I want to rap… NOW” urges, and “Cheese Toast Fest”
recalls MF Doom’s splendid 2004 album MM..
Food?, with Ron dropping an
infinite list of interconnected food and drink allusions. Unlike most hip-hop
albums, Saffron closes with a
shit-hot trio, “Goes To JP,” “Hop Scotch,” and “Shoe Box.” Even more unlikely,
only one song on the set clocks in at
more three minutes — all it takes is 12 tracks and 30 minutes for Ron Contour to prove that he belongs on
hip-hop’s all-star roster, especially when collaborating with Factor. By Nick McGregor |
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