Red Light Knights Play Followill The Leader

I love the Kings of Leon. I love Caleb Followill’s sick hound vocal. I love the road-trip guitar. I love their Shiner Bock roots rock. I love that they misbehave and seem to relish being rock stars. Alongside the Rockfather Mr. White, the Kings of Leon inhabit my musical Mt. Rushmore. Their last record Because of the Times has been in my Jeep’s 6-disc changer for the balance of the year.

I’ve been accused of having a one-track mind; it’s always been this way. When I collected baseball cards I very quickly worked my way up to over 900 Rickey Henderson cards. When I had a crush on Kim Cattrall in the movie Mannequin I actually went to the public library and looked at articles about her on the microfiche machine. How creepy is that?

With Carlos Gomez fast becoming the new Rickey Henderson for the Twins, and Cattrall on the red carpet as Sex in the City hits the big screen it seemed an apropos time to share my latest discovery as a result of having a one-track mind.

It’s hard to dig too deep into the Kings of Leon. The brothers from Tennessee only have 3 albums, and they don’t toss a lot of scraps to the fan base to keep you interested. Even their website will go through big stretches of inactivity. But a few months ago I did manage to find a thread on a Kings of Leon discussion board about a Followill cousin who also had a band—Red Light Knights.

ALAS! A ROGUE COUSIN! For a major Kings of Leon fan this was huge, huge news.

At the time all I could find was a very shoddy Red Light Knight’s MySpace page with a few tracks and a description of their sound as “slappin dicks on cabinets.” But recently when I looked again the Red Light Knights’ self-titled debut popped up on iTunes. Best I can tell the band (from Bethany, OK) has yet to press a physical album, so much to my chagrin I did the download.

In a nutshell, if you like Kings of Leon you’ll like Red Light Knights. And if you love Kings of Leon (like me), you’ll like Red Light Knights.

Red Light Knights do little to expand the genre. Lead singer Tyson Followill is a dead ringer for first cousin Caleb Followill’s howl. The plodding guitar is there as well courtesy of Bee Jay. But the Red Light Knights lack the melodic appeal of Kings of Leon. Nothing here is stadium ready like say “Ragoo” or “Fans.” A song like “Razor” is eerily reminiscent of “Molly’s Chambers” but the hook won’t get stuck in your mouth.

The closest Red Light Knights get to their own open air single is “3 Way Highway.” This one builds slowly to a nice swirling chorus and would be the song I would play if trying to convince you to give the Red Light Knights a chance. “3 Way Highway” sounds like a Kings of Leon rarity you stole from a movie soundtrack or B-side import single. At their best the Kings of Leon have a healthy does of “the woods” in their sound, and this gem sounds like the song you’d want playing as you pulled a choice girl away from the parking lot keg party to someplace dark. It’s very rock & roll and Tyson Followill works the vocal like the heavy bag grinding through as the track ebbs and flows. Really good stuff here.

While only eight tracks, the Red Light Knights debut has already started to grow on me. “But Maybe for Me” has more get-up and melody than most, and some off the leash guitar work towards the end. I find myself filling in the off “tee oh tee oh” chant vocal on “When the Crazy Attacks” and I can only imagine the more aggressive “Pearl” would kill live. Even the song titles like “Rodeo Clown” and “Show Girl” remind of Kings of Leon, and in the case of “Show Girl,” the familiar groove is there too.

The entire Red Light Knights record will sound great driving around with hair in your eyes and sunflower seeds in your cheek, but it mostly sounds good because it reminds you of Kings of Leon not because of anything Red Light Knights have added.

Unlike the emo and singer-songwriter genres, Kings of Leon’s brand of southern rock is far from a crowded affair. There’s ample room for another band that sounds like them—in the case of the Red Light Knights precisely like them. In a weird way it makes sense that blood runs thick on this distinct sound. For Kings of Leon fans, Red Light Knights will be a genetic match for a cupboard you’re still trying to fill.

All Hail the Rockfather!

There can be only one.

Jack White is the Rockfather. Yes, capital letters are necessary. The Rockfather is the one living person most responsible with moving the genre forward. So go ahead and print the 8x10, hang it in your garage, and salute it every time you walk by because Jack White is the most important living person to rock & roll.

What does that mean? It means you need to pay attention to everything he does including side action like The Raconteurs? Why? Because Jack White with The Raconteurs is like Kobe Bryant playing hoops in Europe—it doesn’t matter what 4 guys you stick with him, they’re always a threat to win the game and you need to watch because something special just might happen.

Consolers of the Lonely starts with the familiar spaghetti western rock that White has been favoring with the Stripes. Track one “Consoler of the Lonely” is like a shootout between Brendan Benson and White. Benson plays the straight Wyatt Earp role, allowing White to stagger in around the one fifteen minute mark slinging his drill bit guitar, manic vocal, as if to say “I’m your Huckleberry” Doc Holiday style. You don’t get to hear many showdown songs and “Consoler of the Lonely” is a great starter as the pace shifts between characters while allowing White to eventually win the draw with a sick solo towards the end.

“Salute Your Solution” starts with a massive riff that would be at home on everything from classic rock to ESPN’s Ultimate Highlight. White keeps speaking in tongues holding his hands in the air as if to say, “I can’t help myself.” “Salute your Solution” sounds like an Icky Thump outtake and is sure to excite Stripes fans as they lean into what is fast becoming the signature guitar sound of this decade.

I don’t mean to short shift Benson. Cleary White spends time with him because he too is a bona fide freak with tremendous vocal range capable of sounding like everyone from Robert Plant to Bono to Freddy Mercury. Benson even puts together a rock piano solo on “You Don’t Understand Me.” But I can’t help but wonder if White is speaking to Benson (and the rest of rock & roll for that matter) when he taunts on “Top Yourself” asking, “How you gonna top yourself when there is nobody else? How you gonna do it by yourself because I’m not going to be here to help you?” It’s as if White is acknowledging The Raconteurs experiment might soon dry up as he has bigger fish to fry. What’s clear on Consolers of the Lonely is the songs that place White front and center are where the good stuff happens.

What’s great about The Racanteurs record is there is so much in here. It’s clear this side project is all about liberation and the result is most tracks contain a little glimmer of something special. It’s things like the steamy Almond-Brother-from-another-Mother guitar riff towards the end of “Old Enough,” the trash talk of “Top Yourself,” the breakneck pace of “Five on the Five,” and the new distortion pedal of “Attention” that make The Raconteurs a must buy every time they kick something out. Said another way it’s perfectly fine to eat stuff out of the trash as long as it’s Jack White’s garbage your digging in.

Overall there aren’t a ton of singles or mix tape worthy songs on Consolers of the Lonely. “Consoler of the Lonely” might be the best track just for its swinging saloon door drama. The standout tracks on Consolers of the Lonely sound like the less memorable songs on Icky Thump (a high bar by the way). But Jack White is to rock & roll right now as Tiger Woods is to golf. Until someone steps up to push him, we can only hope he challenges himself making extracurriculars like The Raconteurs worth purchase just to see where The Rockfather plans to take us next.

Music for the Junoverse

There is a lyric from the Kings of Leon track “Day Old Blues” that goes:

girls are gonna love the way i toss my hair
boys are gonna hate the way i seem

Funny, I used to think it was “boys are gonna hate the way I sing.” Which would have made sense given lead singer Caleb Followill’s dog howl of a voice.

People fall in love with voices. I’m attracted to big, interesting, voices with sharp edges and a distinct sound. All of my favorites vocalists would be easily identifiable if given the “We are the World” cameo. My attraction to the odd voice is the reason I love Caleb’s hair and his voice, it’s the reason I’m attracted to the creaky country of Gary Allan and the optimism of Jenny Lewis. And now I’m in love with the hula-hoop rockabilly of Thao & The Get Down Stay Down.

I was first introduced to Thao & The Get Down Stay Down when a guy here at the agency had them come do a brief live set over the lunch hour. Before I even walked over to see them I made a comment to a guy sitting next to me that the music had started. I could hear this intoxicating voice, but my co-worker gave me a knowing glance and said, “I know, I can’t stand the sound of this guy’s voice either.” Turns out Thao was a woman. Specifically she’s the lead vocalist of Thao & The Get Down Stay Down an alternative folk rock band from San Francisco.

Lead vocalist Thao Nguyen has a real indie sound. It’s like Edie Brickell in cowboy boots with spurs. There’s just enough twang on top of a haunting Mazzy Star, almost Cranberries like vocal.

Typically when you’re drinking beers and you end up buying the band’s CD, it doesn’t hold up the next day. If anything it’s a painful reminder you had too much to drink—the music lovers’ equivalent of having to go back to the bar and pick up your credit card.

But there was no walk of shame with Thao & The Get Down Stay Down. If anything, it got better. Their record We Brave Bee Stings And All is the sort of music you play loud from your computer and someone will ask you what it is either because they want to buy it, or they want you to turn it off.

And I guess that’s a compliment. Thao & The Get Down Stay Down is not for everyone, but the people it is for won’t like it, they’ll love it. Even the album title We Brave Bee Stings And All sounds like it’s been ripped off the marquee of an exclusive art house cinema. When we first hear Thao on “Beat (Health, Life, and Fire)” it’s clear she likes the drama. Nearly every song on We Brave Bee Stings and All is a series of peaks and valleys.

“Bag of Hammers” is the single and it starts detox with just Thao’s haunting voice before letting drummer Willis Thompson play hero and groove us the rest of the way. Although I must say this particular song is even fuller live. But I suspect these guys are a soundtrack or TV appearance away from bigger production values that bring even more of their live girth to disc. “Bag of Hammers” in particular is recorded a bit quiet on the record which is a shame because it really does want to make you shout. That one needs to be played at eleven.

It’s really the combination that’s special. As a band Thao & The Get Down Stay Down is truly the sum of their parts. The Get Down Stay Down with their banjos, horns, organs and beat of the drums have a sound that makes you want to just jump in the car and drive. And then you add that voice and presto a weird family taking a road trip turns into Little Miss Sunshine. Thao makes it whole.

Playing since age 12, Thao also seems to be a talent with the lyrics. She does a lot of rhyming, and has simple lines like “love large enough to want to shrink” and “it was brave to play, an honor to lose” that will sneak up on you.

I can’t say anything bad about We Brave Bee Stings and All. I truly love this little record. This doesn’t happen very often, I’m smitten for a band. Even the filler music on We Brave Bee Stings And All is way fresh. It sounds like music you’d want playing when you walk into your room in one of those hotels that is nice enough to have music playing when you walk into the rooms.

So if you fancy your music tastes to be eclectic, if you’ve ever owned the soundtrack to a Tarrantino film, if you listen to the indie radio station in town, if you like the music in the Apple commercials, do yourself a favor and pick this one up. I know you people, and I know you will like it. And please buy the whole damn album. I won’t even give you a choice song to sample because when it comes to Thao & The Get Down Stay Down I want you to bump into the whole thing, it’s that good.

You Had Me At New 'N' Sounds Like AC/DC

I’m a sucker for bands like Airbourne. About every 18 months I hear or read about some band making music that sounds a lot like AC/DC. These words are not to be taken lightly, so nine times out of ten the combination of “new band” and “sounds like AC/DC” will place me at the cash register holding out a twenty.

I’ve trotted the globe searching for the next AC/DC. First it was The Darkness from England, then The Hellacopters from Sweden—to name a few. While the bands were usually hit or miss it still seems worth it to punch the music passport for any new band capable of winding up the fuzz guitars and making open-road rock for another generation. And occasionally you are rewarded for the journey when you bring back something really special like The White Stripes or Wolfmother.

A recent issue of Rolling Stone magazine referenced AC/DC in a review of Australian rock band Airbourne’s new album Runnin’ Wild. The picture in the magazine showed the boys looking very rock & roll, I think they may have had a bottle of Jack in their hands. The Runnin’ Wild album cover had the rock font going on and the album featured Beavis song titles like “Cheap Wine & Cheaper Women” and “Hellfire.” Now if I could just locate the album. Still an import I was forced to make only my second (and first since week 1) virtual music purchase using iTunes since the start of the blog.

The ominous storm cloud brewing on the opening track “Stand Up for Rock ‘N’ Roll” instantly calls to mind “Thunderstruck.” Lead vocalist Joel O’Keeffe has the perfect scream for Velcro high top, black t-shirt rock. Reminiscent of Brian Johnson for certain, O’Keeffe actually sounds more like a mix of fellow Aussie Jimmy Barnes and Tom Keifer from Cinderella. Airbourne delivers the sort of music Frank the Tank would play as he works on his car in the driveway.

The risk with bands like Airbourne is in some cases the album cover, the song titles; even the lyric choices are just a bit much. It’s almost as if the band is playing dress up. The issue I have with a lot of bands like this (see The Darkness) is they tend to do their rock “with a wink.” There is a hint that it’s not serious. And ladies and gentleman rock & roll is a lot of things, but it’s not a joke.

It’s always tough to judge a band’s intentions and the Web makes authenticity more difficult, but if I sense the band is delivering the goods “with a wink,” I’m out.

Sorry for the speech, now I feel like the protective mother in law asking every suitor, “and what are your intentions?” As a whole Runnin’ Wild does deliver, when O’Keeffe yells “Stand up for Rock “N” Roll!” at the end of the opener he’ll have you runnin’ to the attic for your jean jacket. On a side note how rock & roll is it to write the word “and” as simply “’N’” —any punctuation started by G ‘N’ R has to be good, maybe I should change my name to Joh’N’. More awesome.

At a recent Minnesota Wild hockey game the PA was blasting title track “Runnin’ Wild” to great effect during a stoppage. Probably the closest thing to a single, “Runnin Wild” sounds like a vintage Cinderella track only with more motor.

“Too much, Too Young, Too Fast” is like one long Jagermeister toast to the best Behind the Music episodes ever put together for VH1. It’s an honest this-is-all-wrong acknowledgment and the music is an unapologetic “drink it up while it lasts, tear it up so fill my glass” ride.

“Fat City” tries to recreate “Who Made Who” but never quite gets there despite some handy ax work from David Roads (has to be a fake name right?). “Blackjack” finds O’Keeffe reading the AC/DC dictionary out loud shouting, “kill!” “thrill!” alongside a waterfall riff from Roads that Angus Young could appreciate.

“What’s Eatin’ You” is a top track with a cleaner guitar edge. Lyrics like “one in the hand and two in the bush!” take us towards liftoff as O’Keeffe explains, “What’s eatin’ you is eatin me!” It’s an Obama message of togetherness only O’Keeffe is running for president of Hair Nation.

If you’re looking for the second coming of AC/DC, more often than not you’ll be disappointed. Airbourne is about the same. It smells and tastes like the stuff you love, but struggles to break off the chain. So instead of being the music of your summer, Airbourne will probably end up on ESPN Ultimate Highlight and X Games montages as well as your kids’ video games.

That said the quartet of “Runnin’ Wild,” “Stand Up For Rock ‘N’ Roll,” “Too Much, Too Young, Too Fast” and “What’s Eatin’ You” will sound great at a sports stadium or driveway near you. Overall Runnin’ Wild is a good time, and that can’t be bad no matter their intentions.

Editors Should Have Left Lead Singer on Cutting Room Floor

An End Has A Start by Editors is a tough album to review. On one hand, the chassis of the music is superb. Guitarist Chris Urbanowicz and drummer Ed Lay have put together a tapestry of epic sound. The problem is singer Tom Smith’s Goth-voice makes the end result sound like the Phantom of the Opera, or worse James Lipton from Inside the Actor’s Studio singing on top of an old U2 sound.

Is there something here, sure there is. The first three tracks “Smokers Outside the Hospital,” “An End Has a Start,” and notably “The Weight of the World” get the record off to a hot start. The disappointment comes because Editors are a nice band despite the lead singer not because of the lead singer. If you put a different front man on this much sound you would turn an indie into an outie real quick. Said another way: with a different singer, a lot more people would already be familiar with Editors.

With Smith in place the glass ceiling for Editors are key tracks like “The Weight of the World” and “The Racing Rats.” At their best Editors have a nice rock vibe that can rub against everything from The Killers to Simple Minds “Don’t You Forget About Me.” And I suppose that’s the highest compliment I can give to Editors. A song like “The Weight of the World” has a non-chalant sense of drama to it. “The Weight of the World” takes its time getting there, and the result is as cool as John Bender in the backseat of the bus and easily the highlight of the record.

The trouble I have with vocalists like Smith (see Paul Banks from Interpol as well) is they seem to be trying way too hard to sing in a voice that’s not their natural pitch. It’s all just too self aware for me. The result is the music ends up having a Frankenstein effect to it. It’s still a good sound, but you know the whole time you’re listening to it that it could have been great. And that’s a real shame.

Tom Smith does provide rhythm guitar, and nice lyrics like “in the end all you can hope for is the love you felt to equal the pain you’ve gone through” on tracks like “Bones.” Smith is clearly capable of taking the band to a certain altitude as Editors have already experienced commercial and critical acclaim. A song like “The Racing Rats” feels natural for the band and is good up-tempo indie rock in the spirit of “Monster” by The Automatic. But to hear the wind chime of the guitar and the pulse of the drums it just seems like Editors have another gear, and one they won’t likely see with Smith at the helm.

The problem I have with the Goth-voice Smith seems to favor is it puts a turtle neck on your rock & roll band. It clowns out the music to a certain degree. Can it work sometimes in a quirky way, sure Brandon Flowers managed to convert the turtleneck into a bolo tie pulling it off with a wink on Sam’s Town. In many ways I think Smith is probably enamored by The Killers. The fact that both Editors and Killers had a track titled “Bones,” and The Killers record came out a year earlier makes me think this fixation may have become a distraction. Smith’s vocal will be a governor for Editors moving forward not allowing them to reach top speed as a band.

There’s good stuff on An End Has a Start, specifically “The Weight of the World” is a true original. The music is high art, but with Smith at the microphone it’s hard for me to listen to because I feel like someone just added a cleft palette to the Mona Lisa. The music is rich and familiar, but the vocal is surprisingly out of place.

Music for TV Dramas and Men Who Use Product

Matt Nathanson has been banging around for a while. Tastemakers Aware Records had him pegged to be a star a couple times over. Well, Nathanson finally put it all together on his latest record Some Mad Hope.

If you like Dave Matthews, the Fray, Goo Goo Dolls, Matt Kearney, Train and the like—odds are you’ll dig Matt Nathanson. To quote one of his own lyrics, Nathanson’s specialty is “cheap radio songs.” His pedicure pop would have fit perfectly playing in the background of the prom episode of Grey’s Anatomy. The music has a touch of cheese, but it feels good. Some Mad Hope would sound great next to slow motion montages shot in the rain, or as the credits roll when you stand up to leave the theater. And I love that type of music.

Almost every track on Some Mad Hope is radio friendly. The opener “Car Crash” gets us started with Nathanson’s cotton vocal and a nice wavy guitar pulling it forward. “Come on Get Higher” is the signature song on the record. Nathanson takes a Dave Matthews (“Crash”) riff and replaces some of the melancholy with hope. It’s a killer track. Like a great single, “Come on Get Higher” will sound familiar the first time you hear it. Not only does Nathanson have the vocal of a platinum recording artist in the making, he even shows some lyrical prowess with simple prose like “I taste the sparks on your tongue.”

The hits just keep coming on Some Mad Hope. “Heartbreak World” and “Gone” are ballads an Enchanted soundtrack away from making it into your living room. To listen to Some Mad Hope just makes you shake your head as to why this kid hasn’t been properly discovered. The music has monster crossover appeal and Nathanson’s lyric is head and shoulders above the screamo voice presently dominating the marketplace. “All We Are” finishes the album on an epic note, and will get the neck hairs up one more time.

“Wedding Dress” is one of those songs the first time you hear it will make you cringe a bit. It’s more on the Goo Goo Dolls side of the spectrum. We’ve gone from using hair product to maybe frosting your hair as Nathanson sings “in your wedding dress to have and to hold.” It’s all a bit too Hallmark, but the pop is irresistible. Before you know it you’ll be singing along to this one too. Bad wedding Powerpoints are being scored to this one as we speak.

Make no mistake Matt Nathanson is nothing new. He makes “cheap radio songs,” but sometimes that’s all you need. Sometimes that hits the spot. Sometimes that even stands up and separates from the crowd (see Hootie and the Blowfish 1994). The closest Nathanson gets to showing his original side is the stripped down ballad “Bulletproof Weeks.” Leaning on his voice and great lyrics, “Bulletproof Weeks” is an unplugged gem. On “Sooner Surrender” he attempts to shake Jeff Buckley from the grave and comes close. Clearly Nathanson is a vocal talent waiting to be discovered.

There is the rare on Some Mad Hope like the overly up-tempo “To the Beat of Our Noisy Hearts, “ but as a whole it’s a superb record. On “Bulletproof Weeks” Nathanson asks the question, “what happened to feeling cheap radio songs?” Hearing Some Mad Hope makes me beg the same question. Pick this one up; it will sound great as you put together the slow motion sequences of your own life.

Yo tengo catorce anos. Juanes es bien. Adios.

While working in Europe, my family and I spent a few days in Barcelona on Las Ramblas. I remember even in a tourist trap like Las Ramblas just how spacious and laid back the overall vibe was. I also remember opening the hotel windows and playing an Alejandro Sanz CD on the hotel CD player. It sounded perfect.

While in Europe I had projects in both the Netherlands and Spain. In the Netherlands they speak Flemish, a language about as attractive as a farmer’s blow. Flemish sounds like one long series of people trying to hack the snot out of their chests. It’s likely the contrast between the two languages solidified my love of Spanish.

I’ve always had a thing for Spanish language, especially when it comes to music. Spanish just sounds better as it rolls off the tongue. When Spanish is sung, the letters are rounded off. There’s a reason they call it a romance language. Throughout middle school, high school, and college I managed to log about 14 years of intermediate Spanish. This allowed me to master important basics like, “Yo tengo catorce anos ( I am 14 years old).” As well as personal favorite “tu chupas (you suck, or more precisely, and way better, you are sucking).” Even my karaoke song is Spanish. Throughout the years, I’ve brutalized “La Bamba” a variety of ways but always get bonus points for the bi-lingual effort.

I’ve remained intrigued by Spanish language. One day I’ll get my act together and pick up one of those audio book series and learn “la lengua” in my Jeep on the long commute from White Bear. Specific to popular music I’ve always been intrigued by the Spanish “sensation” of the moment. There always seems to be some massive Spanish language performer you hear about who sells billions of records and is rumored to have played concerts to hundreds of thousands. The latest hype is around Juanes. His album La Vida . . .Es Un Ratico showed up on a lot of year-end lists. Juanes even presented at the Grammys looking like Colin Farrell’s bizarre Spanish brother.

The challenge with reviewing a Spanish language album is setting aside the lyrics. While I may know “fuerte” is strong, “amor” is love and “corazon” is “heart” I’m unable to grasp the overall story.

So I’m left to review how the music feels. If music is the universal language there will always be songs that just crossover based on how they grab you. I’ve had this happen before. I used to run the Thames in London listening to David Bisbal’s “Ave Maria” and it doesn’t get any more solid than Alejandro Sanz’s “No Es Lo Mismo.”

The cross over song here is clearly “Hoy Me Voy” as Juanes pours out his heart, and takes us on a bilingual magic carpet ride. I played this one in the Jeep for my nine-year-old daughter the other day, and she loved it. Even without the benefit of story, Juanes gets his twinkle on, bangs the drums, and mixes Santana with Pop Rocks. Awesome. This one will kill at the margarita party.

That’s what I love about the power of music to cut through. Songs like “Hoy Me Voy” are closer to a classical song. The music just feels right. Everything is in the right place. You know what you want to happen next, and then it does.

Another song sure to find a spot in your corazon is the upbeat opener “No Creo En El Jamas” featuring a tidal wave of a chorus even Celine would envy. That’s how to start a record.

Spanish music has a way of getting cheesy in a hurry with the Casio keyboard effects and the drum machines, but Juanes goes to great lengths to avoid this focusing on musicianship and some nice ax work on guitar. It’s clear Juanes wants to be taken seriously. There is a craft to La Vida. . .Es Un Ratico as songs like “Me Enamora” feature significant guitar chop. Juanes clearly has some jam, and the guitar riffs have an Eddie Money/Journey like nostalgia to them. The record has a real live sound to it.
There are more catchy choruses and some nice ballads here as well, but the grab you by the short hair on the back of the head despite the language barrier is clearly “Hoy Me Voy.”

Do I suggest you buy Juanes latest CD? Maybe not, as it’s a lot of work to sort music without benefit of the words. But if you’re a true music fan I absolutely suggest picking up a single or two from a different country and just letting the music punch your passport. It’s no different than trying ethnic foods or watching a foreign film. For starters, “Hoy Me Voy” won’t disappoint.