Fleet Foxes

The residue lingers. The D Man still has swelling harmonies rising in his chest. Mrs. D Man and I enjoyed Fleet Foxes on a lovely summer night, the breeze trailing down through the mouth of the canyon and circling in the gentle ravine. Even the company was great, offsetting some of the scenesters there for anything but the music. The Harringtons brought soothing concert experience and delivered with the cheese and crackers. The Crocketts aced the root beer and supplied the chairs (after somehow managing to bring them up the hill on their bikes). Sitting under the stars, The D Man wondered whether the pioneers overlooking the valley from near this spot could have envisioned such a carefree evening. Thanks to them, too, and thanks to the Seattle-based band for bringing the tunes.

• The Cascades.
• Grown Ocean. One of the best tracks from Helplessness Blues. Too bad the canyon wind had yet to die down, as it warped some of the sound coming from the speakers.
• Drops in the River. A fantastic track from the band's debut Sun Giant EP.
• Battery Kinzie.
• Bedouin Dress.
• Sim Sala Bim.
• Mykonos. For The D Man, this is when the concert officially started. The wind had settled, allowing Pecknold's warm vocal power to emanate throughout the amphitheater. The song's deep history sounded huge and vital. Thrilling even. Brother you don't need to turn me away. I was waiting down at the ancient gate. Maybe the best moment of the night.
• Your Protector.
• Tiger Mountain Peasant Song.
• White Winter Hymnal. The D Man called this one of the best songs of the new century. Hearing it live consummated its peculiar genius, its inherent feeling that it has been around for centuries, sung in the round by travelers on some Chaucerian trek. Its harmonic past is almost palpable.
• Ragged Wood. The band ripped right into "Ragged Wood," a glorious three-suite strummer that will make your bones shiver even in late summer. The band plays harder than you would imagine on some of these songs.
• Lorelai.
• Montezuma.
• He Doesn't Know Why.
• The Shrine / An Argument.
• Blue Ridge Mountains. I love you, I love you, oh brother of mine. Arguably the definitive song in the band's catalog, Pecknold's forest-glen mysticism is a conjurer's art, especially when you consider he penned this song at about 20 years of age.
• Blue Spotted Tail.
• Encore
• Oliver James. Pecknold front and center, alone with a guitar. His soaring voice calling out Oliver James. Question: Why in the night sky are the lights hung? Answer: On this night, just for this.
• Helplessness Blues. The most brilliant mid-song shift of the year; the song's second half is a fleeting burst of imaginative clarity and harmony. With two classic American albums under his belt before the age of 25, Pecknold (and company) have created something timely and timeless.

Beyond the Arc

Brent Barry played 14 years in the NBA. He threw out dimes and dunked on lesser men. Now, he dispenses his basketball wisdom on television. But do you know what he would rather be doing? Well, okay, surfing. But after that? Listening to some great tunes. That's right, Brent is a massive music fan. He has impeccable taste and attends live shows all over the country. He makes excellent recommendations and loves to talk about artists. So, of course, Brent begged to have a recurring feature on this blog.

But The D Man had some lingering questions. Primarily, would he be up to the task? Sure, Brent can still throw down and apparently has mad pinball skills. Sure, Brent hooked The D Man up with backstage Pearl Jam action (as written about here). Sure, Brent catches waves with the likes of Vedder and Slater. But could Brent handle the pressure from The D Man's loyal cadre of readers? Could Brent dish the dirt like he could dish the rock? Or would we just hear about people at Phish concerts?

Well, my (obviously made-up) doubts were vanquished when Brent decided to write his first post about My Morning Jacket. The shredding gods of American rock'n'roll. Live in Seattle. The same place where Brent used to rain threes from the Puget Sound. How appropriate, then, that his feature will be called Beyond the Arc. Make it rain, Bones.

* * * * *

The opening gong might as well have signified that the doors were opening to the path of enlightenment. My Morning Jacket at the Paramount Theatre in Seattle was a transformational evening for me and the roughly 800 attendees. I was familiar with several albums but was not yet ready for the power of the live ball of energy that the band was able to produce, as each song built upon the other, offering up incredible solos and unearthly energy that no album alone can hold. Most of the Circuital tracks made their way to the set list, but the stand out for me was "One Big Holiday." The intro gets me every time and it was crisp and precise, which also describes the entire night's drumming by Patrick Hallahan. (Ed. note: in this more recent version, you can actually see James' face).

Thank you Jim James for haunting my dreams for several weeks following the show. See you at ACL. Amazing how much music I like today has been borrowed by these guys (Band of Horses) and the etherial monstrosities they create. Glad they continue to stay in the lab . . . .

Song of the Week

Hurry Up, We're Dreaming. That's the name of M83's sure-to-be-awesome double album (twenty two tracks!) to be released in October. The D Man absolutely geeked out today while listening to the new single, "Midnight City." The track is pure sensory overload, and it literally got me through a long afternoon of legal tedium. Anthony Gonzelez's complete mastery of cinematic and cerebral electro-pop textures is on full display, as the ménage à trois of drum machines, laser synths, and saxophones feel like they were destined to be together. (Sorry for the bad French pun, but Gonzalez is now the coolest dude to ever hail from France). As the opening track of what is supposed to be a "very, very, very epic" album, the song naturally extends the pop magic of Saturdays = Youth and envelops it in the wide-screen electronica of Before the Dawn Heals Us. Stoked that you get to listen to this right now.

Song of the Week

A couple of years ago, The D Man and Stewboy helped Chad Murphy (legally) transition out of his stake in the local label, Exumbrella Records, where the likes of TaughtMe have found a home. Chad was heading to graduate school then, and he has since attended the University of Chicago and Penn State, presumably in the realm of creative writing. As anyone that knows him will tell you, Chad is a micro-culture renaissance man of sorts, as he has fronted bands (check out Electoral College), supported local music, painted with oils, and generated all-around good vibes.

So it is with real pleasure that The D Man shares Chad's most recent musical project. Under the moniker Markarians (so cosmic and deep!), he has released an excellent five-song EP titled Ten Means Heaven. Chad wrote, recorded, mixed, and mastered everything himself. His dreamy DIY sound is riddled with laid-back galactic energy, a sweet amalgamation of soft-psychedelia, acoustic strums, and bedroom thoughtfulness. The D Man recognizes the faintest sonic trace of Kurt Vile's ambling guitar passions, but Chad's lyrical dexterity surpasses even those comparisons.

Check out the quirky video for "Strangers II." The D Man can only guess at the genesis of the footage, but I would venture that Chad made the best use of his environment during a Murphy family getaway. The bathrobes, hot tubs, and trailways are populated by Chad and his seriously ripped brothers. (Some of his siblings play collegiate and professional football). Even Chad's father (and two-time National League MVP!) makes a cameo at the end of the song. Good vibes, indeed.

In an email to a friend, Chad described Ten Means Heaven as follows:

This is an album interested in exploring the miraculousness of life, the origin of our species, and the nutritional content of breakfast cereals. The intent was to balance weighty, deadly serious themes with the absurd, everyday questions and concerns that consume our lives. Hopefully this combination of seriousness and absurdity can offer some sort of new perspective on the totally amazing and hilarious premise underlying each of Life's Big Questions, as well as on the significance of the seemingly trivial aspects of our day-to-day lives.

In the end, though, it's just songs.

You can download Ten Means Heaven for free. The D Man highly recommends doing so--the final minute of the awesome "Rip Through Sunsets" is worth your hard-earned cash, and Chad is nice (or crazy) enough to give it away.

Toad the Wet Sprocket

One of the The D Man's most memorable dates (with his future wife) was seeing Toad the Wet Sprocket in concert. We hit the H.O.R.D.E. Festival (how's that for some 90s nostalgia?) in Park City and procured spots next to the stage for the Santa Barbara band's opening set. We saw the Squirrel Nut Zippers, Primus, and Neil Young & Crazyhorse. Mid-day, Neil even treated festival-goers to an impromptu solo acoustic set in between all of the booths selling hemp and world peace. We listened to "Heart of Gold" right next to him sitting on his stool. But the best part of the day: hearing Glen Phillips and company live. That, and my super hot date.

Toad the Wet Sprocket is as uncool, unedgy, and underappreciated as a band can get, even during the height of their 90s run. They are embarrasingly earnest with letter-perfect arrangements that hover somewhere between pop and softer shades of rock. Despite (or maybe because of) those qualifiers, they are a terrific band. Their straightforward sense of songcraft belies the intricate interplay of their chorus hooks and noteworthy timing and delivery. This is to say nothing of Phillips' pleasing voice (which we decided last night doesn't sound like anyone else, and we meant that as the highest of compliments). Toad the Wet Sprocket might not impress your uber-cool friends. But your Mom will like them. Because they are pretty damn good.

Rizzo and The D Man enjoyed a great set from the approachable band. (Don't worry, still married to my festival mate, but Mrs. D Man just happened to be out of town). The band played in downtown SLC as part of a summer festival concert series. During the set, Phillips announced--much to my delight--that they would be recording their first new album in almost fifteen years. (The group's absence was less of a breakup and more of a hiatus to raise families and explore other opportunities). The band as always sounded clean and crisp--it was something of a professional clinic in precision musicmaking.

• Something's Always Wrong. Phillips has a knack for singing depressing lyrics that still make you feel hopeful, even buoyant. The same goes for the band's excellent down-tempo numbers, which they mostly dispensed with for the summer crowd.
• What I Fear the Most.
• Fly From Heaven. Paul is making me nervous. Paul is making me scared.
• Crowing. Someone recently asked me what I thought was the most underrated album of the 1990s. Dulcinea was the first record that came to mind, although I'm sure there are plenty of others. This pretty song is an illustration of the band's overarching willingness to impart its melodic gifts, its belief in a shared goodness. The D Man is certain that writing a song like this is not nearly as easy as it sounds.
• Good Intentions.
• Inside.
• Windmills. I spend too much time raiding windmills. Still one of my favorite songs in their catalog. I love the wide-open, wind-blown metaphors. Is this an insight into the Quixotic quest for the pale-faced Dulcinea? Or is it something more personal? Hearing this reminded me again of how much this band meant to me.
• Is It For Me. The exuberant guitars and chorus climax sounded first-rate. Made me happy.
• New Song. The two new songs sounded terrific. The first was a slide-guitar backed number with a driving, woozy feel to it. The second was a little groovier, a kind of heavy jam that still retained the band's cohesive vibe.
• New Song.
• Come Back Down.
• Nightingale Song. The hardcore fans still go crazy when the tambourine comes out.
• Finally Fading. This track from Phillips' solo album was a nice change of pace.
• Crazy Life.
• All I Want. Confessing everythiiiiiiiing. As Phillips tuned his guitar before playing, I remembered how this song was actually a last-minute addition to Fear because the band was unsure about its unique tuning. Turned out to be one their biggest hits.
• Brother.
• Fall Down.
• Come Down.
• Ziggy.
• Walk On the Ocean. Could a song like this even get airplay on today's radio? Without any notes to introduce the song, the opening lyrics still shine like the ray of hope they were meant to be.

Five Things

(M83's Anthony Gonzalez)

The D Man has sort of felt bad ever since he posted ten of the coolest records he owns. So many albums just feel left out, I may have to do another entry. So it goes. Check out these five things--all cool enough.

• M83's 2009 album Saturdays = Youth was epic. Anthony Gonzalez recently said that his next electronic opus would be "very, very, very epic" and "mostly about dreams." If the 90-second trailer for the forthcoming album is any indication, it is going to be awesome.
• Check out the cool trailer for a documentary on Mark Kozelek over at his Caldo Verde Records site. A Cameron Crowe interview with Kozelek will be featured on the Sun Kil Moon website on August 16th, the date of the DVD's release. The D Man is, of course, stoked to check out the live takes and other goodies. Here is hoping for some behind-the-scenes footage in Rip's backyard.
• Junior Boys are as smooth as ever.
• Coz except for her, there just ain't nothing to latch onto. Check out the skater-love video for Kurt Vile's "Baby's Arms," vividly shot by a cell phone. Tag some walls and you'll get some action.
• This is strange and heavy stuff.