Who knew that the best way to enshrine Crosby, Stills & Nash would be to remove the harmonies?

Out today, CSN Demos covers some of the group’s more memorable early takes between 1968 and 1971, including rough cuts of “Almost Cut My Hair,” “You Don’t Have to Cry,” “Déjà Vu,” and “Chicago.”

As outtake/demo discs go, the appeal of CSN Demos is closer to that of the Beatles‘ Anthologies than of, say, the Exile on Main Street Outtakes. (The former offered substantial insight into the songs’ geneses, whereas the latter was a mash of B-takes and unmastered irrelevancies.) All of which is to say that the new disc accomplishes something of which only the best vaultstuffs are capable: re-illuminating the original takes while standing as a damn decent record in its own right.

Read More “Thoughts on CSN Demos:
Record review, streaming, and tour dates” »

Country musician Steve Earle once famously pronounced Townes Van Zandt “the best songwriter in the whole world, and I’ll stand on Bob Dylan’s coffee table in my cowboy boots and say that.” So how come the only people who ever give Townes his propers are his contemporaries and the odd independent filmmaker? Maybe because even when started started writing iconic country-folk standards, he stayed holed up in a tin-roofed shack outside Houston, planting flowers and playing to dive crowds. Maybe because his songs usually only became famous after being covered by other, more entrepreneurial country stars. Or maybe because his ambling melodies have been ground to grains beneath the tire treads of the endless Chevy commercial that is modern country music.

Earle has not forgotten Townes, though; and he’s doing his best to make sure the rest of us don’t either. His latest LP, Townes, is a 15-song memorial to his mentor. The album revisits some of Townes’ most characteristic tunes–including “Mr. Mudd and Mr. Gold,” which was the first Van Zandt song Earle ever played (he did it the night they first officially met, to stop Townes from heckling him), and “To Live is to Fly,” enduring ballad that doubles as the late singer’s epitaph.

Read More “Album Review: ‘Townes,’ by Steve Earle” »

It was hard to cop a buzz from most of the northeast collegiate bands in the early oughts; the music was by and large unexceptional, and most of the musicians spent as much time in front of an easel—or wrapped around a bong—as they did practicing. But then there were the rumors coming out of Harvard: the college’s most convincing band had a retro, jammy thing going on; they performed cheeky pop songs while wearing Bermuda tuxedos; their lead guitarist had a Trey-worthy tone but played with his back to the audience, Miles Davis-style, too aloof or too shy to give a proper rock ‘n’ roll performance.

A year later, I saw Chester French play a stuffed, sweaty Harvard venue known as the Fishbowl, and the guitarist had transformed. He gamboled about the stage, wagging his tongue at the audience and coining a curious update of the Chuck Berry duck-walk. Shredded, too. Their songs were generally OK, their stage presence above average, their ODB cover insolently upper-crust and a total slam-dunk.

The bow-tie, white-boy hooks were enough to catch the attention of rhythmic prepster Kanye West, who called during the spring of their senior year to offer them a record deal. Smart-alecks that they were, they turned him down, opting to become the first white guys ever produced by Pharrell Williams. Two years in L.A. and one trendily short-lived debutante marriage ensued (that shy freshman guitarist? He grew up fast!). And now we have Love the Future, the first full-length from the two remaining members of the undergrad lineup.

Read More “Chester French’s Love the Future: Apathetic Pop With a Brit-Invasion Complex” »

Just a quick reminder that the DC Record Fair hits this Saturday and is shaping up to be the greatest record fair in the history of record fairs. The legendary Chuck Brown will be in the building signing autographs, ten DJs will be rocking separate rooms, food and alcohol will be served, and yours truly will be slanging records and tapes alongside 29 other more qualified dealers. Come through and say hello.

I recently came under fire for being too cruel to the new Gomez record. Specifically, I came under fire from City Lights editor Mike Riggs, who called me a “harsh motherfucker” and who really, really enjoys the song “Little Pieces,” which (he tells me) ran as intro/outro music to yet another episode of Grey’s Anatomy two weeks ago.

While I can’t explicitly tool on Riggs for watching Grey’s Anatomy, I can at least clarify my review. What made past albums from the Southport, U.K.-based indie-rollers special was the very personal glee that came through in even their higher-fi tunes. It always sounded as though they were gathered in some Big Pink-like hideaway, strumming mismatched patterns on a beat-up acoustic, allowing their dealer to sit in on bongos, &c. Their more produced material maintained that glee, got occasionally ethereal in a way that sideswiped Coldplay, and, for all its jangling and twangling, never lapsed into vapid Americana. Take a track from the first record—”Get Myself Arrested,” a little ditty about rock stardom and fast cardom:

Read More “In Defense of Disappointment:
Gomez’s A New Tide isn’t all bad” »

Dylan/Zimmy/Judas wasted no time after last October’s release of the sprawling retrospective, Tell Tale Signs: on April 28, Columbia will release his new studio album, Together Through Life, Billboard reports.

If label hype is any indicator—which, in this case, it sort of probably is—the record’s packed full of nostalgic, tumbleweed-y vignettes, Chi-town blues, and churning boogie. Plus: banjo, mando, and…accordion! Promo materials go on to explain that on his new record, Dylan’s aiming for a retro-minded fusion of Chess & Sun sounds. Which—correct me if I’m wrong—is what he’s been doing since about 1964.

Read More “New Dylan to Drop April 28; Weird Album Art Already Iconic” »

Dischord announced that it has more back-in-stock and remastered LPs. Records include Fugazi’s Red Medicine (a must own), Embrace’s self-titled LP, Scream’s Still Screaming album and the Faith/Void split. Some of these have been reissued on colored vinyl!

Link Wray looking supercool.

Crooked Beat sent along this e-mail with a list of new arrivals at their shop. Includes Link Wray, the Wedding Present, and the new Animal Collective LP.

List after the jump.

Read More “New Arrivals @ Crooked Beat” »

Recently, indie-rock cornerstone Touch and Go Records announced it was effectively closing up shop. Carrie Brownstein wrote up a solid essay on her blog, Monitor Mix, about the sad news.

Brownstein points the finger at music websites as a big culprit. She makes some interesting points. I agree with everything she has to say. It should be noted that the two recently released Touch and Go albums leaked well in advance. You can’t stop illegal downloading.

Then why are record stores thriving in the District?

Read More “Carrie Brownstein On Touch And Go’s Demise” »

This past weekend, we learned that former Washington City Paper music critic Rickey Wright had died. I put together a tribute of sorts made from Wright’s blog posts and WCP pieces, tributes from friends and colleagues and family.

On Saturday afternoon, I had the fortune of talking with Nicole Arthur. Arthur served as Washington City Paper’s Arts Editor in 1994 and 1995. It was around that time that Wright began reviewing records for us. This was a time when people wanted to be rock critics, when there was space for such writing, when there was competition to review the big records. And Wright reviewed his share of the big records.

But Arthur was more than just an editor to Wright. She was a friend. The two had struck up a friendship in the ’80s. Of course, it started over music.

On Sunday, Arthur e-mailed me some of her many memories of Wright:

“I met Rickey in Richmond, Va., in 1987. I had written a record review for VCU’s student newspaper, which I’m pretty sure was the first thing I ever wrote for publication, and he wrote me a fan letter. He had already graduated at that point, and he was working at Peaches Records & Tapes. We met soon thereafter and were fast friends; I think it was our shared reverence for Love’s “Forever Changes” that sealed the deal. But back to that fan letter — turns out it was completely in character. Rickey had an amazing generosity of spirit; he constantly encouraged other writers and he was a tireless cheerleader for his friends. If you happened to fall into both categories, you were very lucky indeed.

Unlike most critics, Rickey was not a music snob. He would gladly discuss Nick Drake for hours (and it would be hours — he *loved* to talk), but he would just as gladly discuss Def Leppard. He never wrote anything off because it was “uncool.” I once complained about my daughter listening to the Wiggles, and he leapt to their defense: “They’re a classic four-piece pop combo!” This is not to say that he was not discriminating, he was. He once wrote a John Mayer review so brutal, the story goes, that Mayer cited it in interviews as an example of his being eviscerated by the press.

Rickey was a master of the soon-to-be-lost art of making mix tapes; he had a great instinct for implausible-seeming combinations that somehow complemented one another. I’m looking at the list of artists on one of the tapes he made me — the Raspberries, Professor Longhair, Love and Rockets, Roger Miller, Prince, Roseanne Cash. And it’s amazing; I’ve been listening to it for 20 years.”