Tag: Americana

Sound Advice: 13. November. 2025

by KevinLeave a Comment on Sound Advice: 13. November. 2025

Today we’re taking a quick look at the latest from Great Lakes, Mavis Staples, and Lush.

Longtime readers may recall that I reviewed 100 new (to me) records last year. Because I’m a glutton for punishment love music, I’m doing it again this year. This is the latest in the series.

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at the latest from Great Lakes mavis Staples, and Lush.

The boilerplate intro: Every year, I celebrate all the great music we’ve been gifted while worrying that next year will see the other shoe drop. I first did that in December 2020 and have been proven wrong every month since. Not only are there a ton of releases steadily coming out, but it also transcends genre or any other artificial guardrail we try to put up.

In other words, a ton of good stuff is still coming out, and there’s something for everyone. It’s almost overwhelming— but in all the best ways. These are another batch that caught my attention recently.

Hard to believe that it’s almost AOTY season, but here we are. I’ll be posting through it, discussing what’s on my list, what isn’t, how I try to winnow things down, etc., over the coming weeks.

In the meantime, the records keep coming. There are always a few that get in under the wire, and ones from earlier in the year that might’ve been missed. Below are a few quick field reports from right between the sound machine.

Let’s get into it!

Great Lakes- Don’t Swim Too Close

Cover art courtesy of Elephant 6/HHBTM Records

Fair warning: I’m gonna go full “suburban dad” here. I don’t know what it is about hitting middle age, but this brand of cynical Americana has really started resonating with me in the last 4–5 years. It’s a sound that feels as lived-in and comfy as my worn-out Sambas and favorite pair of cargo shorts (I know! I know!). I’m not quite in sad-dad territory, but I can see it on the horizon. Distilled down, it feels relatable.

Frontman Ben Crum is wrestling with a lot of the same things we all are right now, noting:

Releasing music right now feels a bit like fiddling while Rome burns. While my new Great Lakes album, ‘Don’t Swim Too Close,’ is a personal and inward-focused record, once it was finished I was surprised to realize it also feels like a slow-burn meditation on whatever it is America means.

Same, Ben. SAME.

Of course, it helps that the record is good. After eight records and 25 years, Crum knows his way around a lyric and writes the sort that tell entire stories in a paragraph. These are character-driven tales that make you wince and smirk in equal measure. And even when the words get heavy, the music is there to lighten things up. The title track will get you moving… and it’s about him suffering a concussion.

I wrote it while recovering from a severe concussion that left me depressed and questioning my future. I honestly didn’t know if I was going to come back from it, and it scared me. Luckily, I did get better, and the song ended up being an ironically uplifting country/rock toe-tapper, with heavy lyrics (“I was feeling hopeless, but also helpless and alone / and more than a little dangerous to my soul”) set to a groove reminiscent of Doug Sahm, Jerry Jeff Walker, or CCR.

It’s worth repeating that while it may be topically heavy, this isn’t a bleak record. On the contrary, the irony and dark humor make a good thing better. As a Gen Xer, being a fan of irony isn’t a learned behavior; it’s encoded in our DNA. More so, it makes for a compelling listen, whether he’s singing about klaxon horns (“Another Klaxon Sounds”), or regret and anxiety (“Like an Open Grave”), or sharing so much of your idea for a book that you no longer want to actually write it (“On the Way Back”).

Something tells me, though, that we’ll hear more writing from Crum. At least I hope so. The band seems to be only getting better with age. It probably won’t be anything about cargo shorts, though…

Listen/buy via Bandcamp

Mavis Staples- Sad and Beautiful World

Cover art courtesy of ANTI— Records

I’m not sure I could tell you when I first heard Mavis Staples, though the smart money says it was likely as a kid, hearing her perform something like “I’ll Take You There” with her dad and siblings in the Staple Singers. Her voice is unmistakable, but there’s always been a current of determination, resolve, and hope. Whether it was the lot of them singing “The Weight” along with The Band in the Last Waltz or her take on Talking Heads’ “Slippery People” (TK LINK), her raspy voice has been soothing and consistent in a world of constant change.

And that hasn’t changed on “Sad and Beautiful World,” Staples’ latest. The record is 10 tracks- 9 covers and 1 original. Of course, Staples takes the 9 and makes them all her own, as only she can. I mean, who else could cover Tom Waits’ “Chicago” and make it sound smoother without sanding off any of the edges? No one, that’s who. It doesn’t hurt that Derek Trucks is here, along with Buddy Guy. Waits’ purists may want to skip it, but I hope you don’t; it’s chugs right along and is worth every note.

The title track was penned by Mark Linkous (RIP), and I’ll bet it’s gonna sound incredible live. Other tracks include her take on Frank Ocean’s “God Speed,” Curtis Mayfield’s “We’ve Got to Have Peace,” and the Hozier and Allison Russell-penned “Human Mind.”

The guest list reads like a who’s who of in-demand talent: Kevin Morby, Nathaniel Rateliff, Patterson Hood, and Bonnie Raitt, among others. As per federal law, MJ Lenderman also makes a guest appearance.

Producer Brad Cook does well to bring—and keep—the focus on Staples’ voice. With a roster like this, it could’ve been easy for her to get crowded out. Instead, we get some of her best work (a high vbar to be sure!), and a gorgeous record that perfectly meets the moment from someone who’s been lighting the way for decades.

Listen/Buy on Bandcamp

Lush- Gala (reissue)

Cover art courtesy of 4AD/Reprise Records

Lush is forever linked with cassette tapes in my mind—or, more specifically, J-cards. In 1990, if I wasn’t listening to this on the original, I was scrawling the titles on one of the many mixtapes I included tracks like “De-Luxe,” “Down,” and “Bitter” on. These were my faves- and the titles were mercifully short. Lush was a band I was eager to share with anyone who would listen. Even the record itself is a mixtape compilation comprising the mini-album Scar, and Mad Love and Sweetness and Light EPs.

A few lifetimes later, a lot has changed. For one thing, I’m streaming an advance copy of the record online for something called a “newsletter” on a website called “Substack.” 15-year-old me would not recognize a thing in that sentence.

50 year old me recognizes a few; in the early 90s, record label 4AD never missed. That still seems to be true. The three tracks I shared so many times in high school are still the ones I’d encourage you to check out today, and I’d add “Second Sight” to the list. The harmonies of Emma Anderson and Miki Berenyi haven’t aged a day and sound better than ever here. This is a shoegaze record, but, with apologies to Kevin Shields, their sound is much sunnier and leans closer to pop than MBV. This is a genre that traffics in the abstract, but while MBV might be a blurred picture of red hues, Gala is one of yellows. It felt like a ray of sun in my teens and doubly so today.

Thankfully, no one will be subjected to my trying to squish some scrawl on a J-card, but there will be playlists. Many playlists. My handwriting may have gotten even worse, but somehow Gala has only improved.

Gala is out tomorrow (11/14)! Listen/buy via Bandcamp.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on these records! Did I get it right, or am I way off the mark?

Leave a comment

Sound Advice: 09. October. 2025

by Kevin

Today we’re taking a quick look at the latest from Automatic, The Cords, and Ryan Davis and the Roadhouse Band.

Longtime readers may recall that I reviewed 100 new (to me) records last year. Because I’m a glutton for punishment love music, I’m doing it again this year. This is the latest in the series.

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at the latest from Automatic, The Cords, and Ryan Davis and the Roadhouse Band

The boilerplate intro: Every year, I celebrate all the great music we’ve been gifted while worrying that next year will see the other shoe drop. I first did that in December 2020 and have been proven wrong every month since. Not only are there a ton of releases steadily coming out, but it also transcends genre or any other artificial guardrail we try to put up.

In other words, a ton of good stuff is coming out, and there’s something for everyone. It’s almost overwhelming— but in all the best ways. Below are another trio that caught my attention recently.

Let’s get into it!

Automatic- Is It Now?

Cover art courtesy of Stones Throw Records

When we last heard from Los Angeles’ Automatic, they had us looking toward the stars. On this latest release, they’re looking at the world collapsing around them.

Is It Now? finds the trio deepening their sound while sharpening their focus. Formed nine years ago, the band has this time teamed with producer Loren Humphrey (Arctic Monkeys, et al.), who brings a lean precision to their already taut mix of minimalist grooves and pop-forward melodies.

When I wrote about Excess, I asked readers to “close your eyes and imagine Devo as a dance band—or a collaboration between the Go-Go’s and Wire—and you have Automatic.” That description still holds, but Is It Now? pushes further into darker territory. The group uses those perky, tightly wound rhythms as a vehicle to deliver commentary on automated warfare, mindless consumerism, and the political machinery of oil and power.

The grooves remain effortlessly cool, but the themes cut waaay deeper.

Of the single “Black Box,” Izzy Glaudini says, “The title ‘Black Box’ refers to the black box in a crashed plane. The repetitive synth is supposed to suggest a plane gliding as it crashes/ an alarm distress call. I was listening to the Leonard Cohen album The Future a lot around the time the lyrics were written. It’s a pretty straightforward critique of people that have sold out on a large scale, specifically within creative industries. Thierry Mugler said, “art used to tell money what to do, now money tells art what to do” and the world is a less interesting place because of it.”

Okay, then!

Elsewhere, the woozy synths on “Mercury” are fantastic—coming in and out of focus, staying just long enough for you to find their rhythm before disappearing again. Those fragmented textures leave you slightly off balance in the best way.

“Lazy” is a chilled-out groove that I played three times in a row, trying to place its reference point before landing on Altered Images. I’m curious to hear if you hear it, too. And I’ll tell you this: “Country Song” doesn’t refer to the genre.

Last time around, I said the band had a bass sound that felt like it “came from the same finishing school as Peter Hook.” I meant that as high praise, and I’ll happily repeat it here, doubly so on the title track. The song is the album’s centerpiece—icy, chaotic, and alive all at once. It sounds like Movement-era New Order at their most up-tempo, and it absolutely hits.

Is It Now? is a record that makes you think as much as it makes you move. The beats are irresistible, the message impossible to ignore. Unlike Excess, this isn’t about escapism—it’s about working your way through the current moment, heavy as it may be. Luckily, Automatic know how to turn reflection into rhythm.

Is it now? Yes.

Listen/Buy on Bandcamp

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Sound Advice: 02.October.2025

by KevinLeave a Comment on Sound Advice: 02.October.2025

The flood of great records continues! Today we’re taking a quick look at the latest from Immersion and Kathleen Edwards.

Longtime readers may recall that I reviewed 100 new (to me) records last year. Because I’m a glutton for punishment love music, I’m doing it again this year. This is the latest in the series.

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at Immersion’s WTF?? and Kathleen Edward’s Billionaire.

The boilerplate intro:

Every year, I celebrate all the great music we’ve been gifted while worrying that next year will see the other shoe drop. I first did that in December 2020 and have been proven wrong every month since. Not only are there a ton of releases steadily coming out, but it also transcends genre or any other artificial guardrail we try and put up—

In other words, a ton of good stuff is coming out, and there’s something for everyone. It’s almost overwhelming— but in all the best ways. Below are another pair that caught my attention recently.

Let’s get into it!

Immersion- WTF??

Cover art courtesy of Swim

Not too long after I got my driver’s license, my mom signed me up for something called a “skid car” course. For those who don’t know, this is a course where they take a normal car—I’m pretty sure it was something like a Nissan Maxima—and surround it with a sort of superstructure. You drive a circuit the same way you would on any surface street, but the instructor is able to manipulate the handling of the car—for example, taking away control of the front or rear wheels (and later on, both). The idea is to teach you how to navigate the unexpected and literally steer through it. They also taught you how to take curves at high speed (this was held at a race track, after all), but that’s a story for another day.

So you’re driving along, and things are going the way you’d expect them to; your inputs cause the usual reactions. Then the instructor goes to work, and everything starts to feel surreal. You’re operating the car the way you know how to, but everything’s just a little off—the car takes longer to respond to your inputs, or doesn’t at all. On the surface, things are business as usual, but it’s very clearly not.

I’ve been thinking about that class a lot lately as we navigate these “unprecedented times” (sorry not sorry). On one level, life is normal—I go to work, I play with Gizmo, I spin records, etc. At the same time, things are very much not normal. As I type this, my hometown is prepping for an onslaught of federal troops. The economy’s about to fully go off the tracks, and all the things we’ve relied on to keep us on the pavement are being demolished. It’s almost as if America is in one big skid car.

Immersion is one of those projects that slips under the radar until you realize the pedigree involved: Wire’s Colin Newman and his partner Malka Spigel of Minimal Compact. WTF?? marks their fourth full-length and first since 2016’s Analogue Creatures Living on an Island. This time they’ve pulled Matt Schulz in along for the ride. So what’s it sound like? The easy answer would be something like electronic rock (or, if we’re going with Wire, something from more recent years), but that’s reductive at best. It’s a little of both, and it defies easy boxing.

The record kicks off with Defiance, an instrumental that gets things off to a strong start with uptempo beats but refuses to plant its flag in either camp: not synth, not pop, not really anything but itself. Immersion—and Wire before them—thrive in these in-between zones, especially when they let the music do the talking. I tried to categorize their last record, Nanocluster Vol. 4, and failed spectacularly. I know better this time around. It’s A Long Way to Brooklyn is a highlight, a track that doesn’t need words. But the whole thing opens up when they do. Spigel’s voice on Timeline is cool and almost detached, and Newman sidles in with a wry spoken-word counterpoint. Elsewhere, like on Use It Don’t Lose It, his trademark deadpan delivery turns a good track into a great one.

If this all sounds heavy, it is—and it isn’t. At least no more so than something like Talking Heads’ Life During Wartime was back in the day. David Byrne was singing about NYC’s Alphabet City, and Immersion is speaking on a much larger scale. Nevertheless.

WTF?? is an album about the constant low-grade anxiety of modern life, and an era where current events have you saying “what the fuck?” several times before lunch.

Things are bad, but we can still have nice things. Things like this record. The grooves are brisk when they need to be and pared back when called for. The production somehow manages to feel both retro (the analog textures are a nod to history) and way, way ahead of the curve. I’m biased, but most Wire records still sound like they’re from the future. This one sounds like the right record for the right time.

Writing about Geese, Steven Hyden recently noted that “Music critics like to do this thing where they point to an album or a song and declare, ‘This music captures how it feels to live in America right now.’ And, often, I make fun of this. And you probably do, too. It just sounds so foolish and pompous. Because it’s almost never literally true.”

Fair point, but if I may, I’d like to make a motion to exempt WTF??. It’s sharp, a little angsty, and a little bewildered. In other words, it’s a record that—at least to me—captures exactly what it’s like right now.

Listen: Spotify | Apple Music | Qobuz | YouTube Music

Kathleen Edwards- Billionaire

Cover art courtesy of Dualtone Records

It didn’t take me long to get why people are so excited about this record. In fact, it took about 30 seconds of the opener “Save Your Soul.” I found myself nodding and saying, “Okay, then.” The line “Line your pockets with gold… Who’s gonna save your soul/When your money’s no good.” feels like a question a LOT of people should be asking themselves in 2025. And just in case Jason Isbell doesn’t already have enough fans here in the community, the solo on this track rips.

That was followed up with “Say Goodbye, Tell No One,” one of those rare tracks whose gorgeous sound is a thin cover for caustic lyrics. It’s incredible. I can almost guarantee someone’s going to use this to get through a bad breakup. They could do worse.

Edwards is a Canadian singer-songwriter who’s spent a lot of time away from the music business. Part of that self-imposed exile away from the grind (heh) was spent running the perfectly titled Quitters Coffee. She returned to the music scene in 2020 with Total Freedom, made a covers record earlier this year, and is in fine form here.

If there’s a weak link, it’s “Need a Ride.” Clocking in at six and a half minutes, it’s about three and a half too long, and frankly, it feels like a drag on the system. Fair play to Edwards here, though- the lyrics are (again) on point. She’s saying what a lot of people are thinking. “FLA” is an ode to the Sunshine State, shouting everything from Gainesville to Tom Petty to Pelicans. It’s one of the highlights on the record for me.

Towards the end, Shelby Lynne and Allison Moorer stop by to add some vocals. It’s a nice touch on a record already overflowing with talent.

I’m many things, but an expert on Americana isn’t one of them—and maybe that’s the best part of Billionaire; you don’t have to be to get swept away by this record.

Listen: Spotify | Apple Music | Qobuz | YouTube Music

I’d love to hear your thoughts on these records! Did I get it right, or am I way off the mark?

Leave a comment

Thanks for being here,

Kevin—

Camper Van Beethoven’s Key Lime Pie Record Is the Story of a Nation Crumbling Under Reagonomics

by KevinLeave a Comment on Camper Van Beethoven’s Key Lime Pie Record Is the Story of a Nation Crumbling Under Reagonomics

The Best Record of 1989 Day 51: #30 Camper Van Beethoven, Key Lime Pie vs. #99 Ice-T, The Iceberg/Freedom of Speech… Just Watch What You Say!

I am incredibly photogenic.

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a quick look at records from Camper Van Beethoven and Ice-T

Growing up, one of the guys on my block lived in a house with a basement. You have to understand that this was relatively unusual in Oregon. You also need to know that it had its own entry, separate from the rest of the house, which, of course, meant it was the default place for all of us to hang out.

All well and good, except that my friend also played guitar. Yeah, that guy. We all know one. Worse, he’d often play it to impress girls on the rare occasion they stopped by. This is how I first heard Camper Van Beethoven’s cover of “Pictures of Matchstick Men.” Not a strong start, but for better or worse, this was the band for me growing up.

This record was also the sound of Camper Van Beethoven growing up—not gracefully, exactly, but white-knuckling it through the end of the 80s like the rest of us. If Our Beloved Revolutionary Sweetheart was the band getting serious, Key Lime Pie is them getting mean; not in a cruel way, but with the kind of sardonic clarity that only comes after you’ve watched the Reaganomics tear apart the American Dream brick by brick.

By 1989, the band was peeling away their own layers. Jonathan Segel was gone. David Lowery had taken the wheel, and the group’s weirdness started to harden into something leaner and a bit darker. The violin remained, but now it ached. The jokes hadn’t vanished, but now, they came with shadows instead of a wink and a nudge. Irony no longer softened the blow; it was the hammer delivering it.

But that’s what makes this record the gem it is. Say what you will about this style shift, but Key Lime Pie is an honest, beautiful, and impossibly human album. The songs aren’t necessarily sad in the normal sense—they’re quietly devastating. It may take a few years and the benefit of hindsight to realize.

Listening feels like looking directly into the souls of people on edge, or even standing at the edge. It can be humbling, and it’s quite a counter to the demanding style of patriotism that was so in vogue.

Musically, Key Lime Pie is a masterclass in restraint. It’s still unmistakably them—strange little chord changes, unexpected melodic sidequests, and eerie violins—but it’s more grounded. Michael Urbano’s drumming is the most conventional thing on the whole record, giving the songs the structure they need. Pedal steel threads through tracks, especially on “Borderline” (my personal favorite) and “Sweethearts.”

And before I forget, the run from “Sweethearts” through “Borderline” is one of the strongest 4-track runs going.

The band sounds tighter, but not sanitized. They’ve ditched the genre-hopping of earlier albums and focused the chaos into something more purposeful. There’s Americana here, but it’s postmodern Americana.

Lyrically, Lowery is at his best here. There’s less snark, more ache. “Sweethearts” paints Ronald Reagan as a puppet for state-sponsored violence and capitalism, but it’s delivered with enough subtlety that you almost miss it.

“When I Win the Lottery” may be the best song ever written about bitterness as a survival strategy. It’s funny, but not ha-ha funny. It’s incredible line-level writing from the POV of someone like the guy at the end of your local bar; the one who’s seen some things.

The whole album walks the line between love and futility, beauty and decay, hope and despair—nihilism. This is a portrait of a broken America song by characters who’ve watched the American Dream collapse under its own weight.

It’s a record about America, sure. But more than that, it’s about people navigating what America does to you. People leaving, people drinking, people stuck in laundromats or backwater towns with only Swap Shop or gospel on the radio. People literally and figuratively stuck on the side of the road. Still, it’s the most empathetic album they ever made (we can use that, too). It doesn’t punch down; instead, it meets its characters where they are.

Despite my less-than-auspicious onramp to the band, this album has never really left my rotation. Very rarely do I play it and not find something new.

You can call it alt-rock, Americana (maybe), or whatever you want—it’s eclectic enough that pretty much anything will fit. But again, it’s just one of the most human records of the year. That sort of thing never goes out of style. It’s always relevant.

Gather ‘round, kids: It’s time to tell you the story of who Fin Tutuola used to be.

Shame that an entire generation only knows Ice-T from his portrayal of a cop on Law & Order. How odd it is to remember that the same guy now flashing a badge used to flout—and run afoul of—the law. This is, after all, a guy who was also almost arrested in Georgia for the high crime of swearing onstage. Such was the climate at the time. It’s all enough to catch a case of the vapors.

In 1989, Ice-T was still a rapper who put hot girls and guns on his covers. He sang songs about power, and how it started “with P like p***sy.” He swore. A lot.

Meanwhile, the Parents Music Resource Center was busy being busybodies and decided that someone should think of the children! Think Maude Flanders but with Congress’s ear. Ice-T made the perfect target. He rapped about all the things supposedly tearing this country apart, and he was popular.

Ice=T wasn’t about to give an inch, and if you were to condense a review of The Iceberg/Freedom of Speech…Just Watch What You Say down to a line or two, it’s that he made a whole-ass record doing just that. It was a baker’s dozen worth of tracks, and all of them were a raised middle finger to anyone with the audacity to decide what was best for anyone.

You can have your endless reruns of Law & Order SVU; I prefer this version of Ice-T.

My vote: Ice-T fought hard against Tipper Gore and co., but he’s no match for David Lowery. It’s Key Lime Pie all day for me.

Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!

Check out the full bracket here.

Info on the tourney, voting, and more is here.

As always, thanks for being here.

KA—