Posted on Friday 13 November 2009
Buy: Monsters Of Folk (Only $7.99)
Buy: Monsters Of Folk (Only $7.99)

Welcome to the 28th podcast/download I’m co-hosting with Ryan Schleicher at 91.7 WMSE.
Muzzle of Bees + 91.7 WMSE Podcast :: Volume 28
White Antelope – “Wild Mountain Thyme” / The Rural Alberta Advantage – “Summertime” / My Morning Jacket – “Bermuda Highway” / Neil Young – “Tell Me Why” / First Aid Kit – “Our Own Pretty Ways” / Brown Bird – “Muck & Mire” / Damien Jurado – “Best Dress” / The Rolling Stones – “Factory Girl” / Christopher Denny – “It Was Alright” / Portland Cello Project – “Seeds My Fall” / Grant Lee Phillips – “Blind Tom” / Weinland – “Sunken Eyes” / Leif Vollebekk – “Don’t Go To Kalksvik” / Why? – “One Rose”
Download: Muzzle of Bees + 91.7 WMSE Podcast :: Volume 28
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Subscribe: Muzzle of Bees + 91.7 WMSE Podcast
Collaboration has been lost at the majority of large scale music festivals. Lots of talent in one place, yet rare is the occurrence that groups join forces or play together. I’m not saying it doesn’t happen, but I am saying it doesn’t happen enough. The beauty of Daytrotter’s Barnstorming tours is these bands traveling together, from town to town, one remote location to the next.
The above video find Taylor Goldsmith of Dawes teaching a song on the fly at the Codfish Hollow Saloon in Maquoketa, IA. The song is great, anybody know what it is? Original or cover?
Previously: Dawes :: 5 Albums
Buy: Dawes – North Hills
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MP3: Dawes – “Love Is All I Am”

By Pete Donahue
I admit I am not too familiar with Devendra Banhart’s previous work. I have heard bits and pieces; when his last album, 2007′s Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon, was released, I sought it out not because I was intrigued by all the critical praise and blog hype, but because I read Nick Valensi of the Strokes provided guest vocals (in French) on a track called “Shabop Shalom.” I still can’t tell if I even hear
Valensi on the track, but the song was interesting enough for me to keep Banhart in the back of my brain. I figured he was capable of producing music I’d want to listen to, but I never really followed up on my mild interest. Even his Natalie Portman romance kind of flew off my radar.
As Banhart’s new LP, What Will We Be, was recently released, I started seeing his name again (and again) in music magazines and websites. Devendra Banhart, that weird guy with the huge beard and Cheshire Cat grin who used to date that one actress has a new album coming out. I can’t really figure out why exactly I decided the time was right to give Devendra’s music my full attention, but I knew that by skipping over his back catalogue, I would hear What Will We Be with a clear palate. Whatever he did (or didn’t) do up to this point means nothing to me. With preconceived notions gone, I thought I’d make an absolute conscious, unbiased effort to see what this guy has to offer. I had an inkling it would be at least halfway decent, but What Will We Be blew away my expectations (and then some) upon my initial listen and continues to win me over every time.
One of the many great things about the album is getting a bona fide knockout track two songs in. However, let us not overlook album opener “Can’t Help But Smiling.” Immediately drawing one in with its Latin-infused percussion, tingling percussion and laid back vibe, the song darts back and forth between reggae/samba with a plentiful amount of California sun for that 60′s pop feeling. Banhart musically sets the mood proper within the song, and with lyrics like “it’s so nice to think you’re alone/then to look up and see you’re home,” the album gets off to an incredibly inviting start.
As I previously mentioned, the second song is what reels me in and made me a Banhart devotee. “Angelika” is split into three parts, all doing their equal pull to make the song really work. The first part is a breezy little acoustic number about, well, Angelika. With a lovely choral backing repeating her name, the song fades into a sonic opposite. Transforming into a sort of psychedelic calypso romp,
Banhart sings in Spanish in front of a variety of Latin percussive pieces while the subject’s name is continually chanted. The way Banhart delivers the lyrics is borderline creepy, as if the singer is a shaman, ranting to anybody who will listen about Angelika. The annunciation is perfect and gives the song a completely
different feel from its first part. In what has become true Banhart fashion, the outro is more sparse than the song’s beginning, resorting to a lone acoustic guitar to go along with the singer’s “Angelika” plea. “Goin’ Back” is one of many tracks on the album that proudly display an obvious Grateful Dead influence, with its light-hearted demeanor laced with a solid lap steal accompaniment and acoustic guitar
shuffle. Fit for a summer campfire rag or road trip anthem, Banhart croons “goin’ back to the place where my lover and I met/I can give her all I got and she can wring by little neck/Just like old times” like there isn’t a care in the world. Carefree and seemingly effortless to listen to, the song could easily fool one unfamiliar to the Dead’s back catalogue that “Goin’ Back” is cover of one of the band’s finest tunes. It may not be the most original piece, but its execution is incredible because it makes me want to listen to more of the Dead’s early 70′s stuff. As such is the case, I applaud Banhart for sparking an uncovered musical interest within me.
The album’s tempo slows down considerably with the strapped back “First Song for B” and “Last Song for B.” Split into two songs, the first displays a more honest, truthful Banhart at a piano. “I take everything as a sign from God,” he explains, before the piano builds up to a more complex tickle before the singer pleads “please destroy me” over and over. Far from the good time aesthetic created by the album’s earlier tracks, “First Song for B” undeniably pulls listeners in. Is Banhart confessing or predicting? Pleading or joking? I find joy in not knowing the answer because the singer leaves it to my own imagination.
“Last Song for B” sees Banhart switch to acoustic guitar, where he offers a complex little finger picking pattern leading up to a puzzling lyrical offering: “I want to go holding you/unite us this lifetime as lovers for all time.” Whether his recent high-profiled relationship has become an influence or not lyrically, there is a running theme in the two “Songs for B” that gives the impression Banhart may hold his emotions close to his chest, but is willing to offer just enough of a peek to really sting you with its emotive flair. Such notion is just enough to make the album’s little moments like these two songs that much better.
Based on the little knowledge I have of Banhart’s previous work, it doesn’t seem like listeners should ever get too comfortable with his albums straying off towards one direction and ultimately staying there. Case in point: “Chin Chin and Muck Muck.” “When I was a young boy, I had a lot of young boys/and we taught each other dearly how to love,” Banhart laments. Again by the piano and accompanied by a brushed hi-hat and horn section, the song sounds like your favorite vintage Blue Note or Verve record, fit for a lazy Sunday morning. In typical Devendra fashion, the song abruptly changes into as close to the freak-folk label that Banhart has been given by journalists. A trippy, puzzling statement of “look at the neighbors with their long, blonde hair/making their money at a renaissance fair” leads the next part into the song into an acoustic folk ballad loaded with imagery fit for an acid-tripper and enough middle eastern percussion to make one thing the drug of choice might actually be opium. When I think of Banhart’s seemingly unshakable label of “freak-folk,” I think it’s fair to say
“Chin Chin and Muck Muck” offers just enough to whet those journalists’ label-tagging desires on an album otherwise devoid of such a genre. On “16th & Valencia, Roxy Music,” Banhart indulges in 70′s disco rock. Loaded with fat analog synthesizers and a rock-solid disco beat, Banhart and his choir yelp “Tonight, we’re gonna find our lovers/tonight, we’re gonna find our man!” As the title alludes to, there is a nod to Roxy Music’s arty sway and bop; Bryan Ferry would be right at home singing lead on the track. MGMT could cover the song and a lot of people would probably assume it was the latest, hottest MGMT single, tailor-made for Urban Outfitters’ in-store playlists across the globe. And we’re not out of the decade that gave us true classic rock and disco, yet, as the very next song, “Rats,” is a legitimate Led Zeppelin explosion. Pick any of your favorites from an assortment of late-60′s/early-70′s Zeppelin classics and you will find its influence in “Rats.” Coincidentally, I recently found myself listening to the song immediately after watching The Song Remains the Same and the song and movie to alarmingly well together. Big Les Paul guitars, bubbly bass lines and reverb-ladden vocals all come back together in the final minute to a good old-fashioned classic rock breakdown. Paying homage to disco, Roxy Music and Led Zeppelin in back-to-back songs seems like a feat fit for, say, the Flaming Lips, but Banhart pulls it off with nary a problem.
The albums next four tracks, “Maria Lionza,” “Brindo,” “Meet Me at Lookout Point” and “Walilamdzi” all tend to bleed into one, thus killing the momentum of the previous few songs. All featuring Banhart with an acoustic guitar, sometimes joined by a swirling electric guitar or lap steel cry, the songs are beautiful, but would be better suited apart from each other. I find “Brindo” the most enjoyable because Banhart once again sings in Spanish and his delivery so is relaxed and fluid that it almost shames listeners who cannot translate what he’s saying. With such a beautiful atmosphere created on a rather simple song, the lyrics are like a widely-celebrated classic painting. On the surface, one finds it beautiful, but the whole story is not there in plain view, thus leaving viewers to their own imaginations.
Finalizing the 14-song offering is an upbeat ska jam sounding right at home next to your favorite Specials record. “Foolin’” even sees Banhart finish off with a “one day, one day at a time” declaration itting right in place with the old-time ska aesthetic. Besides, after a plethora of sounds from folk to classic rock to various tastes of world music, “Foolin’” is a genuinely fine way to close out an album loaded with Banhart’s wild assortment of influences. As worldly as he appears to be, is it really that ridiculous to see him try his hand as a rude boy?
What Will We Be ultimately confirms my initial thoughts of Banhart as a musician. The album is a warm-sounding run around the globe, lead by the entertaining, engaging Captain Banhart. As co-producer (alongside A Band of Bees’ Paul Butler), Banhart recorded the album in a house in California with his usual cohorts, including Noah Georgeson, Greg Rogove, Luckey Remington and Rodrigo Amarante (of Little Joy). I’m sure good times were had by all because fun clearly bleeds through the album and I mean such in the best way possible. While Banhart touches an assortment of sounds, I do not find What Will We Be a distraction, but incredibly focused. Whatever Banhart did to get here is irrelevant because the album stands entirely on its own and I hope my time spent with his back catalogue is equally enjoyable.

Ryan at WMSE introduced me to The Woes during our 26th podcast. The band is aptly described as “a stew of Delta blues and early Country, of bluegrass and New Orleans marching band music, dished out by banjo, harmonica, accordion, French Horn and organ.” The culmination of all these sounds and influences cultivates into the beautiful new album, Heaven Knows, which has been in heavy rotation since arriving weeks ago.
The Woes play The Stonefly in Milwaukee on Saturday, November 14th. Before they arrive they were kind enough to expand our recurring 5 Albums feature to seven in order to accommodate the size of their group. You’ll see from the choices below that their influences/favorites are as varied as their music evokes. A band and show that’s not to be missed in Milwaukee.

Bob Dylan – The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan | Osei (voice, banjo, guitar)
When charged with selecting and then writing about a favorite album, I found myself combing through musical histories populated less by entire albums themselves than with events associated with them. And so, when settling down to write this I decided on The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan. There are albums by Bob Dylan to which I enjoy listening to more than I do Freewheelin’ – likewise, there may be a hundred albums by others which when stacked against Freewheelin’ not only hold their own, but perhaps would defeat it in a bare knuckle backyard brawl. However, its significance on the occasion of sharing thoughts on a favorite album is not as an album in and of itself, but rather one that is personal. It was after hearing this record for the first time that I decided to put down the bass bass guitar, which I’d played for years in a series of punk and noise influenced rock bands and to pick up an acoustic guitar & write words to sing. Hearing The Freewheeelin’ prepared me for the Dylan to come, later VU, then Can, Hawkwind, etc. It also brought me to Woody, Leadbelly and then on to innumerable field recordings, American and non. After a time that led to Afro Beat, Hi Life, Samba and all the other world music that followed. Maybe the only record that’s done as much was Mingus’ Town Hall Concert of ’68 which led me to think about what instrumentalists could bring to compositions outside of “the solo”. But it was The Freewheelin’ Dylan the set the spark, I should remain true to it, and so as I’m sitting here in this Turkish Caffe in Columbus, OH, half dazed with reminiscence and floored by a lack of sleep, it makes the most sense. Yep, for its songs alone, for ever wanting to write one song as good any contained there and for the all the music that’s been heard since hearing it that first time, it’s precious.

Brian Eno – Apollo: Atmospheres & Soundtracks | Philip (pedal steel, voice)
There are many reasons why this record is important to me, but the main is that when I listen to Brian Eno’s Apollo: Atmospheres and Soundtracks, it makes me feel as if I’m floating. Like the calm you feel just moments before you fall asleep. Your mind is clear, and your breath is calm. I wouldn’t fear the term “out of body”. The album effortlessly moves through themes of textured electronic and organic noise. Often these textures are coupled with lush angelic pads and brief melodic, almost “country and western” inspired ballads. It was possibly the first time I heard/recognized the use of a steel guitar in a non-traditional format. Synths and steel guitar may have never appeared together in such a ethereal fashion. This dark collaboration between Eno, his brother Roger and Daniel Lanois envelops the beauty, mystery, and endlessness of the last great frontier.

David Bowie – Scary Monsters | Andrew (Bass, Organ)
When I was 15 I got a job handing out flyers on the street for a local music store during the holiday season. The pay was less than minimum wage, it was freezing, and the animosity I felt from the people I was trying to hand flyers to was tangible. Someone actually spat on me at one point. The one saving grace of the entire experience was a somewhat older and wiser co-worker who gave me this record on cassette, which I then listened to on my walkman seven or eight times a day for the five week duration of the job. Scary Monsters falls directly in between Bowie’s Eno period, during which he released several records with an A side of slightly-to-very unconventional pop songs and a B side of ambient pieces, and his 80’s pop period when by his own admission he released songs like “Modern Love” and “China Girl” just to make a ton of cash. You can hear the transition taking place on Scary Monsters, but it always seemed to me like this was Bowie’s attempt to make a “cross-over” art rock record. Many of these songs became popular singles- “Ashes to Ashes”, “Fashion”, and the title track, which all have undeniable pop hooks, though they also probably feature the most dissonant guitar soloing ever on a mega hit record, by King Crimson’s Robert Fripp. I could go on about the balance of brilliant pop songwriting and total fucking wierdness (Pete Townsend plays some psuedo-metal guitar on “Because You’re Young”, while “Scream Like A Baby” is the most unsettling upbeat pop song I know) but if you somehow haven’t heard this record already you should just go listen to it.

D’Angelo – Voodoo | Tim (Drums, Voice)
This is probably the one record I’ve consistently had in rotation since I first heard it. If someone had described this album to me before I heard it, I probably would have never given it a chance: a modern R&B album in which most of the songs clock in at over six minutes, several of which involve the singer boasting about his sexual prowess. Oh, and there’s a buff shirtless dude staring seductively at you on the cover. This wasn’t the sort of thing that would normally inspire me, a skinny 17 year old living in the suburbs, to go down to the indie record shop where I bought all my punk rock and commercial-radio rock albums and special order it. My drum teacher at the time introduced me to it and forced to me to play along to every track to teach me about playing with restraint and by the second time through I was hooked.
I was a kid who played in a bunch of high school rock and punk bands, and this was the first album to show me that everyone didn’t need to be playing as many notes as possible as fast as possible to wow the listener. You could just find a groove and stick with it. (For the record, I really hate when people talk about “groove.” In fact, if everyone listened to this album, nobody would have to waste time discussing “groove” anymore; everyone would just know.) To me the best parts of this record are in the small moments, the little things like a flub in the bass line or the unexpected, perfectly placed accented snare hit that only happens once in a 7 minute song.
Everything about this record is perfect. From the songs themselves, to the performances and the production, everything just fits together so well that I never minded that it’s a style of music that I’ve never had any interest in whatsoever. I’ve always found most modern R&B to be annoying and trite, but this album is timeless (except for one ill-advised reference to a TLC song, courtesy of Redman). I can’t describe why every choice made is the right choice. I don’t know exactly what it is that gets me about the layered vocals that sometimes sound like 100 tracks on top of each other or ?uestlove’s drumming or the why it is that the horns seem to enter at precisely the right moment every time. I think this is just the kind of record that you shouldn’t spend time describing. You have to just listen to it.

Captain Beefheart – Trout Mask Replica | Michael (Trumpet, Voice)
“My smile is stuck. I cannot go back to your frown-land” begins Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band’s classic work, Trout Mask Replica.
I was up late one night with my father the first time I heard it. I was twelve years old. My dad could, and did, imitate Captain Beefheart’s voice perfectly. He knew all the words to every song. The songs and stories on Trout Mask Replica left a deep impression on me. This impression gets deeper with time.
There is a current of contagious joy running through the album’s four sides. This joy is found even in the few dark and ponderous tracks on the record. The heavier songs on the album confront the listener with the social ideals prevalent in the sixties without a trace of corniness or sentimentality. Beefheart’s mirth and sincerity permeate songs about Dachau, civil rights, and drug addicted veterans. It’s a rare thing and it is representative of a theme that unites the entire work.
There are contrasting ideas at play throughout the album. This concept is clearly illustrated in the instrumental aspect of the music. The sound of the Magic Band playing two or more musical motifs against one another demonstrates a sense of cohesion that is very compelling. There is a unity of purpose in the chaos that carries the listener along.
The instrumentals are executed with a rough-hewn sense of swing. The a cappella numbers have this same rough-around-the-edges feeling. The three unaccompanied vocal pieces on the album illustrate what Captain Beefheart does best, combining syncopated rhythm with stream-of-consciousness wordplay.
Delivering this rhythm and wordplay is the unique instrument that is Captain Beefheart’s voice. His timbre, intonation, and inflection are constantly shifting. His voice will often change tone several times during a song, sometimes conjuring the voice of Howlin’ Wolf, other times invoking the spirit of gold-rush era prospectors, railroad men, and other characters of America’s past. Ultimately this music speaks with its own voice. It is performed with a sweeping love and enthusiasm. I smile whenever I hear it.

John and Ruby Lomax 1939: A Southern Journey
| Will (Organ, French Horn, Voice)
John and Ruby Lomax 1939: A Southern Journey is not an album but a collection of field recordings that – to my knowledge – are only available streaming or as individual downloads from the Library Of Congress website as part of their Memory project. The hundreds of recordings the husband and wife team made of people in Alabama and neighboring states inevitably suffer from primitive, “in-the-field” sound quality. Some are just snippets, barely 30 seconds long. Occasionally, fine performances are marred by surface needle scratches or low frequency hum. But, as with all field recordings, concentrating on audio fidelity is beside the point. The renditions of traditional songs such as Bad Lazarus, Boll Weevil, I Ain’t Got Nobody or Wouldn’t Mind Dyin’, are full of undesired sounds or abrupt endings, and yet are deeply moving- stark, unsanitized documents of the songs and sounds of everyday life, from chicken-calling to Mexican cowboy music.
Though there are certainly some standouts among the performers (few of whom are known to the larger public – the exception being the transcendent, otherworldly Vera Hall, who certainly deserves wider recognition), the great thing about this body of work is that the individual performers are not professional recording artists but simply folk in the truest sense: anonymous voices (though, except for the odd chain gang or group of children, everyone is credited by name), singing for a microphone that, but for chance, could just as easily have never been in front of their mouths.
In the 70 years since the Lomax family began their work, “Americana” has become a bona fide genre and marketing designation, and these recordings could quite conceivably be labelled as such today, though there is nary an alt-country hit among them. But regardless of the label attached to it, the music in A Southern Journey made me understand that some of the most beautiful music in this country and in the world was never and will never be heard by more than a few (and in some cases, by more than the one making it). Recognizing that, in an age of commodification and digitization, music still exists as a thing apart from the business and technology of music- that it is simply the unadulterated expression in sound of the way people feel at a given time and place- has given me great comfort. That a computer and an Internet connection made this realization possible is an irony not lost on me.
And ultimately, this is the music that matters most to me, the songs we sing to ourselves, the music of the house and the yard, the church and the field. That no one may ever hear your sound takes nothing away from it; music is not always about communication with an audience, but rather communion with something beyond yourself, of which you are still a vital part.

Caetano Veloso – Transa | Maria Christina (Saxophones, Voice)
My love of Caetano started in high school, when I discovered his 1997 album, “Livro”. It was a beautiful work, filled with lush horn and string orchestrations, and that unmistakable velvet voice of Veloso. The songs were beautiful, and the whole thing was polished perfection. It wasn’t until years later that I discovered an album by him that was in many ways the exact opposite; bare, stark, and simple…and it was that album that made me really fall in love with his music.
Caetano Veloso, native to Bahia, was exiled by the military government in 1969, and lived in London during his exile. Transa was the first album he recorded when we was essentially back from exile. He had sung in English while in London, and in this album both English and Portuguese are sung side by side…often in the same song. The transitions are seamless, and natural.
From the very first song, “You Don’t Know Me”, with its delicate guitar work, a blend of Bossa Nova and Blues, I was very taken aback. It was as though I became completely immersed in the story of the song. “9 out of 10”, the second song on the album, is about his time in exile in London. It is a gorgeous up-tempo bossa, with amazing words. The lyric in the chorus “9 out of 10 movie stars make me cry, I’m alive” haunted me very deeply, when I first heard it. Texturally, this album is fairly sparse, with just guitar, bass, and drums/percussion. “Triste Bahia” has some of the traditional capoeira percussion, such as the berimbau. The way the traditional calls of that berimbau are used in the arrangement of the song is a nod to his roots, in contrast to the experimental track “Neolithic Man”, entirely in English, and very much rooted in the avant-garde things he did in London. “Mora Na Filosophia” is a Brazilian standard, but on this album it takes on a very dark vibe, with a relentless bass, and an almost eerie acoustic guitar line above it. The and of the songs features some of the most beautiful rock n roll wailing I have ever heard. Throughout the album, the way Veloso uses his beautiful voice, making it one moment sweet, and the other full of pain, is ultimately seductive. It pulls you into the story this whole album tells.
There are very few albums I can listen to beginning to end, and Transa is definitely one of them. Its one of the few albums that truly takes me somewhere, that I can just get lost in. Its atmospheric without being ambient. It is a gorgeous, bilingual work of art, romantic, political, Portuguese, and English; all at once.
Buy: The Woes – Heaven Knows
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Myspace: The Woes
MP3: The Woes – “For Nothing”
MP3: The Woes – “Hanging’s Fair”

By Tyler Fassnacht
The Fiery Furnaces were formed in 2000 by two siblings. Eleanor sings, Matthew plays music and together, over the course of seven albums, they have written some of the most experimental music in addition to some of the poppiest music I have ever. In preparation for their upcoming shows in Milwaukee on Thursday at Turner Hall and in Madison on Friday at the Majestic, I would like to share some personal highlights from their catalogue.
The Fiery Furnaces garnered attention with their first album, Gallowsbird’s Bark, which was grouped in with the garage rock fad of the early 2000’s. The furnaces kept this album fairly raw and bluesy sounding. A standout track from this record is “Leaky Tunnel,” which blends the signature sound that the Fiery Furnaces would develop in their career with an almost 60’s pyschadelic rock instrumentation. It is also a good example of the astounding way that Eleanor Friedberger can rattle off words by the mouthful.
The band followed the garage sound with an album of ten-minute epics that had gurgling keyboards, erratic/spazzy guitars and lyrics that were really more like rambles and stories. Blueberry Boat has seen the most mixed reviews of any Fiery Furnaces album, with some people calling it unlistenable and others calling it genius. I, personally, am with the second group on this one. To this day I haven’t heard an album like this and the best example of this album’s merit is the opener, “Quay Cur.” Clocking in at 10:25, this song evolves from minimalist electronic, to upbeat rock with galloping guitars, to arpeggiating acoustic and then to a reprise of the original theme. It’s an engaging opener to the magnum opus that is Blueberry Boat.
After the experimental enigma that was Blueberry Boat, the band released a collection of B-sides and singles, called EP, that were much more commercially friendly. On the album there is a reworking of a song that was originally on Gallowsbird’s Bark. “Tropical Iceland” is catchy, concise and sweet like candy. With synths reminiscent of Toni Basil’s “Hey Mickey”, and a simple sing a long chorus, it’s hard not to get this song stuck in your head.
In 2005 Rehearsing My Choir was released. This album is a highlight as a whole for diehard fans of the Fiery Furnaces and fans of experimental music alike. The music is good o’le Fiery Furnaces, except the album is narrated by the sibling’s grandmother. Mostly in the form of spoken word, the album tells the story of Olga Sarantos’ life. The album was not received well, but as a project it is really unique and interesting.
After finding a new home on the label Thrill Jockey, the furnaces released Widow City“>Widow City in 2007. The album is approximately an hour in length, without an obvious coherent theme, which makes it difficult to listen to sometimes as a whole, in one sitting. To me, it seems as though roughly a fourth of the album is filler, but the album really has some great tracks that make up for the average ones. One of the powerhouse songs is “Navy Nurse.” With a kickass riff that starts off the song, it trades off between happy organ verses and quick sputtering choruses. This one was even featured in the average Chuck Palahniuk movie adaptation, Choke.
This brings me to their latest album, I’m Going Away, which they are touring on now. The album as a whole, is the most approachable Fiery Furnaces album to date, but the album still doesn’t disappoint. The songs are short, piano filled pop gems and the coincidentally optimistic sounding “The End is Near” is a good example. This song shows a more mellow side to the Fiery Furnaces that we only get to see sporadically across their catalogue.
In their live shows, the Fiery Furnaces change up songs, some almost to a completely different level, so it is something that will keep you on your toes and keep you entertained.
Buy: Fiery Furnaces
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Myspace: The Fiery Furnaces
MP3: The Fiery Furnaces – The End Is Near