Carousel by Miner

Around these parts, I'm not sure to what length I've discussed last summer. It was one of those beautiful times where despite feeling emotionally broken in every way, I pushed out of my comfort zone and accomplished more than I had ever hoped to. One of my favorite songs, going along with these moments, was courtesy of Miner. Hey Love was that warm, happy jam that wouldn't fail to make me grin or roll down my windows. At that point, Hey Love had been around for almost a year. With only one other released track at the time, Golden Ocean, that was all we had of Miner, until now.

Carousel, to be frank, is a relief. I'd come to expect more tracks heavily laced with the banjo and mandolin, upbeat and campfire-worthy, emulating that Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes vibe. On one hand, I find Miner almost more accessible than other bands it could be genre-lumped into with. This is catchy, from the soul, makes you want to fall in love, music and all of their released tracks thus far are solid. I can only hope their debut album will have twelve noteworthy songs.

With a year and a half from initial release to the debut album, husband and wife, Kate and Justin Miner had the time to build a band with Justin's brother Jeremy and other family and friends. It's a familial affair and an environment that can cultivate a grand work of art. Deriving inspiration from travels through Central and South America, with bedroom recording roots, I can guarantee this will be an album worth spending time with.

Miner releases their debut, Into The Morning, on February 25th. Preview the album by listening to Carousel and Hey Love on Soundcloud and by reading the lyrics on their website.

Charlie Patton's War @ Solly's

Much too long ago, one of my favorite local bars, Solly's Tavern, hosted Charlie Patton's War for a little show in their upstairs bar. It was a Tuesday evening and I had found out about that show the day of, via twitter. I have tons and tons of bands come across my radar on twitter and it's almost impossible to check them all out. There was something about this band's tweet, the show being at a neighborhood bar of mine and their band name that struck me. I decided, at the very least, to listen to a song or two off of their bandcamp site.

While blues isn't my normal forte, I was almost immediately jamming to their music while cranking out my projects at work. I had nothing on my schedule for the evening, no need to work late that night and I wanted to see this band play. I hit up my friends on our facebook thread - "anyone want to check out this awesome blues band at Solly's tonight?" My friend Erin happily obliged.

We loved this band and had a great evening. I don't think you can go wrong with a $3 cover, blues music, PBRs and whiskey sours. Before the show, we had a brief conversation with their drummer and lead singer, Aaron Frazer and one of his friends who had come out to see them play. Erin and I learned that the band was from Bloomington, Indiana, still in college and their main goal was to get their name out there. I told them that I saw Solly's retweet the band earlier in the day and that I decided to come out after listening to their album on bandcamp. I think Aaron was excited that people, other than friends and family, had decided to attend. Erin mentioned this blog, I assured them it was small and silly, but also said I'd talk about the show. Any press is good press, right?

It was a weeknight, therefore, we stayed for only the first of two, hour-long sets. During this set, the band covered a wide variety of their debut album. The highlights Git Gone, Fatties, Say Ya Mine and Friscoe Ride were all played and the energy in the room was high throughout all of them. Solly's was loud and it was deceptively easy to get lost in the music. Is this what blues is all about? I think so.

In addition to their own songs, they played an exceptional cover of Alabama Shakes' Hold On. I was floored. With Boys & Girls, Alabama Shakes essentially set a precedent for what modern day blues-style music should live up to. As much as I love the original version of Hold On, Charlie Patton's War did a fantastic job delivering a piece that exceeded that precedent. The same thought can apply to their cover of J.D. McPherson's North Side Gal, another personal highlight of mine that evening.

The ability for modern artists to find inspiration in and honor retro music is a trend I don't want to end any time soon. Charlie Patton's War joins the likes of Alabama Shakes, J.D. McPherson, Pickwick, Fitz & the Tantrums, Elin Ruth, Radiation City and others in proving that there's room to improve even in classic rock and pop.

Listen to Charlie Patton's War on bandcamp or Spotify. I especially dig this "basement demo version" of Say Ya Mine:

Typhoon and grappling with mortality while living with a chronic illness

(Disclaimer: White Lighter was released over a month ago, on August 20th, but was available to stream two weeks before then. Given that time frame, it has taken me almost two months to write this emotionally-entangled post. I'm still not certain I've done their music the justice it deserves. However, I'm seeing Typhoon live on Wednesday at Rock and Roll Hotel and getting this entry published was a "now or never" feeling". It's overly personal and raw but honest.)

I'm certain this goes without saying -- music has always been one of the biggest emotionally-complex components of my life. A song can be akin to a drug: a stimulant to heighten my feelings in the best of times, a depressant to bring me back down to reality in my more manic-induced moments, or an analgesic to shut down everyone and everything. Most days, I operate with a soundtrack playing in the background.

Kyle Morton, of Typhoon, has managed to write the soundtrack to my most probable "possible death": an ultimate and slow, painful demise from diabetic complications. I never tried or wanted a soundtrack for this facet of my possible future, but with Typhoon, I allowed it.

My mother had crippling depression but I watched her earnestly embrace life, in a way I had never seen, after she lost most of her eyesight and went on dialysis, after also suffering from diabetic complications. Yet, somehow, her own daughter, without any mental illness and an insatiably passion for life, has spent the past seven years living life to the absolute fullest under the impression that life will be over the minute she gets hit with a complication. The past few years have been this surreal whirlwind of adventures, love, connections, and joy. However, I haven't really envisioned a life for myself into my thirties. Every doctor appointment is a harrowing, nerve-wracking experience. Every bad bloodsugar level is a moment of heart-stopping regret. The fundamental part of living with a chronic illness boils down to these panic moments and the anxiety-filled late nights. I have a hard time not letting this define who I am. 

I often ask myself questions.
Is today the tipping point? Is today the day everything changes? 

I discovered A New Kind of House and I couldn't stop listening. Summer Home pulled me in and shook my core. Within the first few lines Morton talks of never wanting to give up but having a body that does. He's holding out for the summer, this promise-land, where the days will be back to normal or over. This was the first wake up call. I can't be the person who doesn't fight. I can't be the person who pleads for the summer, as my days won't return to normal after the "tipping point" occurs. The idea of there ever being a "normal" in the first place is delusional. My only summer, my only promise-land is the end.

There's Honest Truth and with the lines "On my time, oh Lord I've been so blind. But now I see the light below my doorjamb. Hallelujah, it will be gone soon", death almost seems glamorous for brief, fleeting moments. Be relieved that the end is here. However, it's not difficult to hear the regret laced throughout and it makes me hesitate. Claws Pt. 1 is damaging: "We are conceived all with the same chance/ to be spared, to be salvaged, to be kept safe/ then you hope to god nothing bad will happen/ from when you're born 'til you go quietly from old". For some of us, the bad happens, "the great great beast", sooner than we wish. The beast simultaneously claws, reminds us of our fate but also provides some solace, as we know what our fate will be.

 

 If A New Kind of House wasn't stark enough, I listened to Hunger & Thirst a few weeks after. Starting Over describes the common phenomenon among diabetics who "go off the bandwagon" and come back to desperately try to get their bloodsugars well-managed. I start over every single day, where "I've started a new beginning, suspiciously like the old one, only this time I'm ready". Even though I tell myself I'm ready, I never truly am.

 

Typhoon's latest release, White Lighter, transcended all of my high expectations. On the aural front, it's pure, unadulterated, witchcraft. Somehow, the band's twelve individuals sound simultaneously cohesive and entirely jarring together. If only one audio element was removed from this album, it would not have the grandeur it does now.

On the narrative front, Morton continues to explore life and mortality. I have read his insights, published back in June, many times now. It's impossible to be blinded to his brilliance and the wisdom he has gained throughout life while suffering from an illness. I initially never knew his back-story of his development of Lyme Disease while growing up. I was not surprised when I did find out. These words can only be woven together by someone who has experienced the path of gradual death, at a speed possibly faster than the average person.

Possible Deaths is two minutes of morbid bliss. If nothing else, this song reminds me that my notion that diabetes is my sure-fire end is pure folly, as "every star is a possible death".

The hardest part of White Lighter is grasping with love being introduced as a theme. I've always thought of Common Sentiments as the prelude to White Lighter, as thoughts fully flushed out in Prosthetic Love and Post Script creep up here as well. At the end of the day, there's the reality that "you are sleeping together, but you will die alone" Is there a point of exposing vulnerability when the inevitable end won't be any different? I'd like to believe so. I began to think of the end of the song mantra as my own because "I will be good though my body be broken" and someone surely will acknowledge that truth about me but won't give a damn at the same time.

However, never in my life have I had a song describe so acutely my own thoughts with letting go of stubborn independence, as with Prosthetic Love. I think it's how he describes growing attached and learning how to count on a partner, rather than his own fingers, that strikes a chord with me. Is "attachment" a word commonly described with that nervous period of "falling for someone"? Because, it's always the word I use that no one else seems to. Attachment is exhausting, scary and difficult for someone who has a chronic illness. With being so different than my peers growing up, but having a body that could fail me, I never felt right accepting outside help. It spiraled into this possibly-unhealthy streak of fierce independence, where I could only count on my own mind to save me from myself. Is it fair to subject a partner, or anyone else, to the suffering caused by a disease they don't even have? Morton realistically captures depending on and falling for someone else, despite all the misgivings, when you've never really been able to depend on your own body or would expect anyone else to.

If Common Sentiments is the prelude to Typhoon's love story, Post Script is the all-depressing, but tragically pragmatic finale. I'm almost willing to assert the song as the most beautiful and fitting album-ending song out there. No matter what, I can only love within the confines of my chronic illness. In Post Script, Morton describes how he'll do anything and everything to make sure his partner gets the love they deserve. The thoughtfulness cannot be returned. How can someone love the part of an individual that will eventually rip them away? His partner isn't obligated to love him unconditionally, as they would also have to love the disease that will be his downfall. Honestly, I find it fair if someone with a chronic disease will never experience unconditional love. It's the compromise we make for likely being the first to leave.

I Can by the Dancing Hats

It's Friday. I didn't take the day off of work, per se, but I did decide to forgo my miserable car commute for a walking commute to the DC office. I'm almost regretting this decision entirely. I barely have any work to do, it's a perfect day outside and I'm in the dreariest office of all time. No windows. No company. The lights keep turning off because no one acknowledges my presence.

On the upside, I have plenty of privacy to jam out to I Can by the Dancing Hats all afternoon. The Dancing Hats, from what I can find out, appear to be a fun-party-sort band out of Portland, Oregon, with varying numbers of individuals contributing. Are they the next big folk super-group (ala upbeat Typhoon)? Who knows? But, I think there's a lot of potential for something.

The track is catchy and multi-dimensional. There's truly a lot going on, both lyrically and aurally. I'm not one-hundred percent sure what this song is about, but my guess is rebellion against a stereotypical life and shooting down everyone who tells you you can't live extraordinarily. At first I wasn't sold on how slightly jarring the lead male's voice sounded, but as the song goes on and he experiments with different styles, it's highly enjoyable. The female vocalist is equally fantastic and provides the balance the song needs. The random, instrumental portions prove that the band can rock out and have fun while doing so.

I don't think there's a better song to capture the end of summer.

You can listen to and download I Can on the Dancing Hats' bandcamp page (for name your price!). If you do, please rebel against office culture with me and participate in some Friday cubicle dancing.

The Agreeable White Tiger Moth: Vol 1 by Daniel Blue of Motopony

One of my biggest regrets of my last relationship was not being able to run through my backlog of music recommendations - a Netflix-esque queue of ridiculous proportions. You see, it's almost a rarity in my life to be dating someone who is at all musically compatible with me. It was a dream come true. Motopony's self-titled, 2010 release was the next album I was planning to share before the breakup happened. It's an album so full of brilliance, I almost inbox'd it as a "break up gift".

While I have endless thoughts on Motopony, I am highly anticipating the solo work from their lead vocalist, Daniel Blue. The project, The Agreeable White Tiger Moth: Vol 1 gets released sometime soon, with a release show on August 2. This is another one of those moments where I am dying to be back in Seattle. As a plus, it's the grand opening of Santcuary, "a hundred year old repurposed chapel in the heart of downtown Ballard." I can't find too much information on Sanctuary but I'm guessing it's going to be an artist mixed-use sort of venue (much like The Dunes). As an additional plus and major relief, all of Motopony will be playing music written for this show and, despite the solo project, there will be a second Motopony album.

These are exciting times.

Currently, there are two songs released off of the project on SoundCloud. Flower Children is a dreamy track where I'm envisioning myself running through an expansive field with not a care in the world. I know that sounds overblown, but I guarantee you will start daydreaming the same. I also agree with Sean DeTore of The Mixtape -- this song is straight out of the 1960's in the best way possible. I Don't Need to Know features Meagan Grandall of Lemolo -- the duo execute a beautiful, soulful track in unison. Grandall is just one of many collaborations. I'm very much looking forward to the collaborations with Mary Lambert and Jon Russel (of The Head and the Heart).

There's just so much Seattle-goodness involved.

I absolutely recommend checking out the release show if you're in the Seattle area. Go and let me be envious of you.

You can listen to Flower Children and I Don't Need to Know on Blue's SoundCloud page.