Vetiver
Thing of the Past
(Gnomonsong)
California-based Vetiver's album of obscure cover tunes might seem a bit quaint or precious (nostalgia for nostalgia's sake), but its intentions are pure, and the sensitive execution on the recording feels genuine and earnest. Particularly effective are Garland Jeffreys' "Lon Chaney," performed here as an appropriately melancholy piano ballad, Loudon Wainright III's "The Swimming Song" (whose subject matter jibes perfectly with the old-timey feel), and Townes Van Zandt's "Standin'," which could easily be a track right off American Beauty or Workingman's Dead. I was surprised to learn that the record was co-produced by Thom Monahan, who cut his pre-ProTools teeth at the Valley's own Slaughterhouse Studios on (most notably) Scud Mountain Boys' debut, Dance the Night Away. Call it Monahan's Sherman Oaks garage/studio or maybe just a gathered band of organic talents; the album successfully recreates a vibe akin to Dylan's Basement Tapes. —Tom Sturm
Fire on Fire
The Orchard
(Young God)
The sounds of Fire on Fire are undeniably unusual. The first track falls somewhere between a frog beat box, an Eastern European accordion jam, and choral singing a la "Quinn the Eskimo." A sort of homespun, dark-edged wistfulness prevails; though the band's instrumentation is all acoustic, it never seems to fall into the stereotypical bubbliness or overreaching angst of too much folk. It bears noting that even the presence of banjo doesn't really lift the spirits on The Orchard. It wouldn't be surprising to hear that the album was recorded in a graveyard in some farflung corner of the state where they reside, Maine. Several members of Fire on Fire used to be in the even darker electric band Cerberus Shoal, and the kind of atmosphere-building and sure sense of identity that band possessed fill these tracks. This is a consistently surprising disc, highly recommended for fans of the unsettling. —James Heflin
16 Frames
Where It Ends
(Verve Forecast/Universal)
I've always been a fan of the well-crafted three-minute pop song, and will even cut songwriters slack on originality based on the knowledge that, after all, there are only so many catchy chord combinations and melodies that one can put together. The thing that bugs me most about music like this is the icky-sweet style that performers adopt—neener-neener two-string arpeggios, breathy, overly-emotional sounding vocals that seem systematically designed as if they had the power to arouse suburban teenage girls and provide suitably neutered role models for their male counterparts—when will our American Idol-obsessed nation figure out that desperation is not sexy? And neither is blatant imitation, which, despite solid pop sensibilities, is what 16 Frames' debut album suffers from. Basically, they're a warmover of the Goo-Goo Dolls or the Verve Pipe, though I suppose they can't be held responsible, only being freshmen. —Tom Sturm
