Recording review - Songs:Ohia, Journey On: Collected Singles (2014)

Don't look for explanations, just feel the connection

Jason Molina was more comfortable faintly disguising his solo work with band names like Songs: Ohia and later Magnolia Electric Co. Whether that helped or hindered, he still managed to inspire a mythology as a tortured artist, an iconoclast and an idiosyncratic genius. Molina himself seemed to have little interest in that kind of analysis; he’d rather buckle down and move on to the next project. Journey On: Collected Singles gathers a number of his early 7″ singles and split sides in lovingly retrospective homage. Ben Swanson of Secretly Canadian talks about how hard it was to get Molina to agree to the idea. He jokes that Molina started to entertain the idea because he was sick of them asking, but of course it may be that he was physically just too sick to argue any more. His untimely death in March 2013 at 39 closed out a long struggle with alcoholism and left fans feeling the loss. This special box set honors the 7” release format he favored. Coming out about for 2014′s Record Store Day some 13 months after he died, it forces a kind of maudlin nostalgia that Molina probably would have resisted.

Fans will pore over these songs and others looking for clues and explanations but that path is ultimately unsatisfying. Sure, certain lyrical moments can suggest foreshadowing and there is a morose undertone to much of his work, but looking for confirmation is a sucker’s game. Magical thinking and false pattern matches won’t explain anything, much less resurrect him and it’s merely our yearning for a simple narrative that beckons us into that trap. While this collection does show off his emotional depth and beautiful economy, in the cold light of day, his moody themes are no different than a host of other ‘tortured’ artists. It would better serve his memory to just embrace the loss, savor the music and try to carry on. At least that would be in keeping with the perspective he favored in his songs, where he might be beaten, but he was rarely self-pitying.

Drawing on almost a decade’s worth of odd songs, Journey On shows a wide range of sounds from the raw alt-folk wail of “Boys” to the ponderous elegance of “Keep It Steady”. Much of the material shows Molina’s appreciation for Neil Young, both in his embrace of sonic simplicity and his sincere and unselfconscious singing, but other influences come through. The moody drive and syncopated percussion of “Freedom Pt. 2″ evoke Black Sabbath’s psychedelic tunes like “Planet Caravan”, while “Soul” draws on the reflective tone of “Wild Horses” by the Rolling Stones. As he sings, “What is it like?/ Is it worth this misfortune ?/ What is it like on the other side?” he sounds wearier than Mick Jagger. Listeners who insist on overanalyzing these songs for signs of Molina’s fall will appreciate the irony of lyrics that find solace in passion, mercy and patience, when mercy and patience were not enough to overcome his passions or addictions. It’s an overly facile reading, though, and it’s better to just sink into the embrace of his voice which shifts from vulnerable to raggedly insistent.

Of all the tracks on Journey On, “Lioness” is my favorite. The original version from 2000′s The Lioness is powered by the transition from drag-beat verses to the up tempo assertive chorus. But this stripped-down take hits like a sucker punch. The shadowy solitude of the simple guitar creates a small hollow of space to hold Molina’s fatalistic surrender to love, regardless of the cost. Jennie Benford’s drone backing harmony steps in behind his voice to brace his resolve. Instead of relying on the pacing to build the chorus intensity, he packs the repetition of, “If you can’t get here fast enough / You can’t get here fast enough…” with desperation, like the sound of a man at the end of his rope. His voice swings from resignation touched by beatific martyrdom to taut focus. Although this is clearly a song about self-destructive obsession, it still doesn’t play to the narrative of a doomed alcoholic. Instead, the powerful beauty of this song centers on the conscious choice to trade everything for love, “l want to feel my heart break, if it must break, in your jaws.” The tiny spike of guitar punch at the end is less a feint towards a lead than the sound of the last wall falling between him and his fate.

Journey On serves as a wonderfully cathartic wake for a strong but somehow brittle artist. It lets us mourn his loss and immerse ourselves in all of the emotions he evokes: the solemn pain of “United or Lost Alone”, the resolute strength of “Vanquisher”, the taunting exaltation of “Boys”. It’s a small shrine, but as he sings on “The Gray Tower”, “I think there’s a lot of good in this town/ I think a lot of it’s unredeemed.” This collection redeems a bit of Molina’s spirit for all of us.

(This review first appeared on Spectrum Culture)

Recording review - Atomga, Atomga (2014)

If you want a party, you need a crowd

These days, it's a stripped down DIY world. Electronic production and recording tools are cheap and ubiquitous, so it's easy for a person or two to create dense layers of complexity worthy of a studio full of musicians. Plenty of interesting work is produced by small groups like this, but oftentimes, the music lacks the spark and surprise that a larger band can bring to a shared moment. Music that favors larger ensembles, especially improvisational styles like Afrobeat, rely on cooperation to nurture an idea into vibrant life. The seed may be a simple melodic run or chord vamp, but the band takes the framework and negotiates how the song will develop. In Afrobeat, funk, jazz, and soul come together with African flair. Percussion and bass form the backbone, while horns, guitar, and keyboards add color and detail. In their live performances, Denver band Atomga does an excellent job of demonstrating how a larger group can coordinate on a piece and take it into surprising directions: the syncopated foundation shifts from congas to bells to snare and the horns turn the melody into a conversation. Sax player Frank Roddy has talked about simplified playing and the importance of leaving holes so the group can find their voice. Atomga uses this approach in combination with active listening to construct fairly intricate arrangements that adapt organically to the flow of the moment. While nothing can quite match the magic that happens on stage, their new, self-titled CD does capture that contradictory ideal where the band is tightly aligned but the tunes evolve loosely and naturally.

The album begins with a quick flourish before establishing a solid funk base. Vocalist Kendra Kreie launches into the conscious lyrics like a preacher rousing the congregation. The chorus warns, "Wake up!/They're building empires/ They're building on our backs." The progressive theme calls back to the socio-political criticism that has been at the core of Afrobeat since Nigerian Fela Kuti created the style, but the music animates the message. Each member of the band contributes a deceptively small piece to the overarching mix. The parts fall into repetition with minor variations, but they always leave enough space so they can interlock into a resilient chainmail of bouncing groove. The bass bubbles, the guitar ratchets a light call-and-response, and the organ just taps in the accents. The horns hang back but pull together after the chorus for a thick, droning set of punches. Even during the solos later in the tune, Atomga's horn section works as a team. After a spicy percussion interlude, Alekzandr Palesh leads off with an impressive trombone line. Leah Concialdi's baritone sax jumps in to overtake him but this becomes an exchange between the two instruments.

The following tracks show off the band's range. "Boneyard" slides into a darker, reggae influenced sound with a hot set of Latin horn solos. Then guitarist Casey Hrdlicka drifts into an expressive jazz-blues run. These stylistic shifts are based more on subtle coloring than heavily telegraphed change-ups. "Still Today" on the other hand stays in a jazzy space, with rolling triplets that propel the tune forward. The pensive rhythm is a bit like Dave Brubek's "Take Five" but Atomga uses it like a launching pad. The first solo features Tim Lee's trumpet taking a Miles Davis turn. He hands off to Hrdlicka, who starts out calmly enough, but he builds to a fiery climax of guitar shred. All the while, the rhythm section maintains their composure and the keys float dreamily. The eight and a half minute run time gives the tune plenty of room to stretch out.

"Still Today" turns up again at the end of the album in a remix by Craig Welsch. Welsch has worked with The Avett Brothers and a number of reggae bands like 10 Ft. Ganja Plant and John Brown's Body. His treatment here follows a dub style approach, giving the horns a rich echo and stripping the track down to its roots. The bass gets most of the love, along with the thoughtful Doors style keys. The percussion is still upbeat and active but Welsch locks onto the groove and emphasizes its hypnotic languor.

The only downside with Atomga is the all too brief running time. Even with the remix, the album's five pieces only fill about 33 minutes. By pop song standards, the six minute average track length is expansive, but Fela could lavish a half hour on a single track. On stage Atomga has no problem following his example, but it makes sense that they'd rein in these tunes on the CD: studio time is expensive and plenty of jam bands have proven that a long, meandering live cut can turn wooden without the crowd there to feed off of. While I'm a bit greedy and want to hear more, I'll settle for another time through the album to appreciate the hidden details I might have missed before.

Drop by their Bandcamp page to check out Atomga for yourself.

Concert review - Zoë Keating

3 May 2014 (Boulder Theater, Boulder CO)

For someone like me who’s used to rock arenas and noisy bars, this show was a completely different experience. With an older, less casually dressed crowd, reserved seating and respectful audience silence during the performance, it was more of a night at a string recital than at a rock concert. But the symphonic set wasn’t quite at ease either; Zoë Keating’s music didn’t really belong to their world. While her cello would have been at home in the concert hall, the technology she harnessed for looping and layering her parts challenged their comfort zone, and her sonic palette was likewise unconventional. To the warm, organic sounds of strings, Keating added percussive slaps, harsh bow scrapes and light feedback resonance to shape her motifs. But she connected to the divers crowd because she is a phenomenal player whose music carves out its own niche. Modern, new age, minimalistic, experimental, jazzy; it’s hard to nail down exactly what she does, but her music is easily recognizable as the components offset and support one another, building into obsessively layered structures.


Before she even emerged, the mood was set. The stage was stark, with nothing but her cello, loop controller and seat underneath the hot red lights, softened by a light fog. Red remained the central color, and the lighting tech did a good job of connecting with the music, supporting the accents. Keating started with an older piece, “Seven League Boots”. The initial smear of layered cello gave way to pizzicato raindrop notes that coalesced into heavier flows and rapid cascades. Aside from the beautiful precision of her playing, the stereo separation added depth. Whether directly or via programming, she controlled panning so notes were spatially located, casting the performance into a cool, in-your-headphones experience. Most impressive was that, although you could hear the looped structure, that wasn’t the most salient element of her performance. Her thematic explorations were the center of attention. Her control yielded moments of delicate beauty and intervals of stormy power. In the end, it didn’t matter whether you could follow the subtle dance of her feet guiding the loops or not; the music hypnotized and distracted. Like a master magician, she led the audience’s focus where it needed to go.


More than just a talented player, Keating has a genuine, if self-conscious, stage presence. Whether filling us in on the challenges of looping (“If you play that first thing wrong, then you have to play everything wrong”), reminiscing over her career (“Rasputina was my rock and roll finishing school”) or talking about her creative process (“I’d rather just give my pieces numbers than titles”), she reached out and overcame the formality of the concert-hall setting. That kept a wall from forming between her and her audience. The crowd showed restraint while Keating played, but her likeable persona made it easy for them to express their enthusiasm at the end of each song. After the show, she built on this with an open-ended meet-and-greet session that gave people the chance to ask questions and make a personal connection. l could hear her answer the same questions over and over, but she was patient and happy to talk with her fans.


One of the more common queries was about her upcoming album, due to be released this summer. It’s been four years since she released Into the Trees, although she’s worked on soundtracks and commercials since then. During her set, she provided a wonderful taste of her new work, but she took great pains to explain that this was the original improvised idea, rather than the “cello” epic she built in the studio. Keating plans to tour widely in support of the new release, so take advantage of the opportunity if she makes it to your town. It will be mesmerizing; be prepared to sit back and enjoy.

(A version of this review first appeared on Spectrum Culture)

Recording review - Shonen Knife, Overdrive (2014)

A beautiful balance of thrashy naïveté

“Gabba gabba, we accept you/ We accept you, one of us!” On “Pinhead”, the Ramones explicitly summed up the promise of the DIY punk ethos. Anyone could join in from whatever part of the fringe they lived on. That message found an unlikely reception in Osaka, Japan, where two sisters and their friend were inspired to start their own band in 1981. Although the lineup has changed over the years, Shonen Knife remains true to their initial love of bands like the Ramones. Part of their magic is that they embody both rock rawness and Japanese kawaii (cuteness) culture. Their thrashy guitars and simple song structures firmly embrace punk, but the trio’s joie de vivre creates a cognitive dissonance. The crunchy catharsis of distorted amps is tied to cheerfully trivial lyrics in a way that sounds quite naïve to a Western audience. Where other bands might cast this contrast as irony or a mask of innocence over a seething internal chaos, Shonen Knife uses the noise like a trebuchet to launch their innate optimism to soaring heights. They walk this tightrope between two extremes with such a natural flair that it’s impossible to dismiss them as a lightweight girl band or as mindless rockers. They’ve been around long enough that they qualify as old-school punks and they’ve developed a cult following that included Sonic Youth and the late Kurt Cobain.

Their latest offering, Overdrive, reliably delivers their standard mix of punk and pop, but expands that with a classic rock/early heavy metal palette. The opening tune, “Bad Luck Song”, crosses a garage rocking Thin Lizzy cover band with the Ramones, in the best possible sense of that combination. It’s filled with riffs and hooks that are reminiscent of “The Boys Are Back In Town”, but the chorus vocals capture Joey Ramone’s self-conscious simplicity, fitting the message of the song, “The bad luck song might be my good luck song/ This is the best way of thinking.” The twin guitar attack on the solo nails Thin Lizzy’s harmonized lines. It’s a solid start for the album. On the next tune, “Black Crow”, Shonen Knife shifts from classic rock to moody, Black Sabbath-inspired heavy metal. This is one of the two darker tunes on the album, with Naoko Yamano actually summoning a touch of resentment at the crow that has interrupted her sleep, “Don’t wake me up in the night/ I want to stay in my dreams/ Don’t wake me up in the night/ Go back to the mountain.” The lyrics have a childlike directness that is refreshing, perhaps because they seem to deny any metaphorical interpretation. The other break in the band’s relentless cheer comes with “Robots from Hell”, a grinding, drum heavy slog which also leans towards heavy metal. While most of the song just modulates between a couple of chords, they do toss in some tight chord riffs that any basement metal band would be proud to play.

The weighty hard rock on Overdrive meshes well with the band’s power chord punk and it’s fun to identify their influences, from the AC/DC grind of “Ramen Rock” to the Deep Purple sludge intro for “Green Tea”. But even as Shonen Knife expands their sound, they haven’t sacrificed a bit of their fundamental pop sensibility or their paradoxical Zen koan nature. Their kawaii persona is inherently artifice and yet the clarity of their words and grounded playing tap into a guileless sincerity. That enigmatic combination is still intriguing after all of these years. There are a handful of somewhat damaged artists like Syd Barrett, Brian Wilson and Roky Erickson, who could translate their skewed internal mindsets into great art. Shonen Knife are hardly impaired in any way and they’re not of that same stature, but their unique perspective is similarly compelling.

(This review first appeared on Spectrum Culture)