Some find it remarkable, but it is nevertheless true that far more local CDs are released than there are weeks in a year. Thus, due to the nature of my column, in which I usually deconstruct just a single disc, they can pile up. For some, I feel little remorse — there are perfectly good albums about which I find I have nothing to write. For others, however, I do suffer pangs of regret.
So, here, thanks to a rescheduling of the new Area Code 207 release (see “Sibilance”) and a nod toward spring cleaning, are some albums I wish I’d written something about earlier.
Loveless, The Streaking Healys
It’s been a while since this area’s been introduced to a new alt-country band, but the Healys do their best to recall Uncle Tupelo, with much of the wry humor Diesel Doug and the Long Haul Truckers used to captivate Portland for much of the late 1990s. Like the Truckers, they can be fairly Nashville from time to time, but the tunes are generally over the top enough to let you know there’s irony intended.
“Anyway” is the single, with Steve Black using a pretty piano to back vocals that are particularly nice when he tosses off the “anyway” that ends most lines. It’s a lonely singalong ballad and well-timed mid-album. Directly following a tune about a “neon redneck mama,” it’s a good reminder these guys are serious about their music.
Late in the disc, the Healys show some versatility, too, with a jam aesthetic infusing “Barstool Away from Heaven” and a ZZ Top vibe driving “I’ll Be Gone.” Fans of cowboy boots, grimy jeans, and Jack Daniel's ought to be pleased in general.
The Streaking Healys | Spectator’s, in Sanford | April 18 | www.thestreakinghealys.com
No Shields, The Orchards
The Orchards is a project put together just about single-handedly by Eric Schwan, a songwriter who came to Portland this winter and did me the favor of sending me No Shields for a listen. It’s a heartbreaking dream of hushed vocals, quiet guitars, and smart turns of phrase, recalling Sufjan Stevens and Soltero and all the other great indie rockers who’ve found that acoustic instruments have a great deal to offer.
Released as a CD-R through Father Time/Baby New Year’s Records, the disc is something of a grieving exercise, and it’s true this is not a happy album, but in its melancholy is a quiet strength that’s enchanting and you believe Schwan when he says, “I’m telling you, it won’t be the same.”The tune I can’t get out of my head is “Each Night a Pilgrimage,” which opens like this: “I stood in the storm and watched you cry/Where light and darkness collide/You took out the seventh stone/Cast it to the town below/I was amazed you’d try to fight.” Tack that onto a banjo that enters like a stranger only mildly interested, and a nice mix for a home production, and it grows like a wildflower.
Late album, the moon is a kind of leitmotif, sometimes lying by his side, other times threatening to never rise, sometimes showing the way, other times giving way to starry skies. Essentially, he’s looking for a light in the darkness. Schwan might help you find something, too.
Eric Schwan | www.myspace.com/ericschwan
Roller Derby Girls, Meantone
Meantone make the sort of music that doesn’t necessarily lend itself to hyper analysis, but the more I listen to this five-tune EP (and Meantone’s Original Graveyard Blues, from last year), the more fun it seems. It’s mean and dark in the way a guy in a gas mask might intuitively make music, but it’s not mean-spirited. Thus, when you’re told the Roller Derby Girls, “They crush your heart/They crush your very soul,” it’s easy to intuit that that’s a good thing. And, for music nerds, there’s something to Meantone’s fretless guitar, paired only with Young Brett’s drums (like Eggbot, Meantone is a guy and a band, both).
And the included video here is worth the purchase alone, with great footage of the Roller Girls (kind of like the Suicide Girls, in that they have lots of tats and are hot, but instead of getting naked, they punch other women while roller skating in a circle competitively) in action (including a brutal takedown with about 20 seconds left), some clips of Meantone and Young Brett carousing with some gals on the Geno’s stage, and, best of all, Meantone taking a mean clothesline (twice), dished out by roller girls. It’s a weird combination of cool and slapstick, but it’s a work of art in its own way.
Meantone | with Pulp 45 + the Outsiders | at Geno’s, in Portland | March 29 | www.myspace.com/meantone
