Author Archive for Lora Enfield-Parker

First Listen: Red Lanterns’ Names

Lora Enfield-Parker, March 26, 2010 in Initial Response and Music Reviews. 0 Comments Tags: , , .

My first listen of Red Lanterns “Names” was totally blind. I know nothing of this band and the internet didn’t yield much information. From their myspace page, I did learn that they were from the Boston area. I would have picked that up anyway since they referenced Boston three times before the first four tracks were finished, however. I saw a picture. It appears three people are in the band. Seriously, that’s how little I have to go on here.

Already, upon my first listen, there are some bright spots. The lyric “Just fucking hit me” on the song ‘Johnny Gosh’ is brilliant and perfectly delivered. On Dear Dead Stars, there’s an edgy part that I had been waiting six songs to hear just to shake up the monotony. The line, “All I drink is gasoline, all you loved is dead in me” could have been my entire biography contained in one song lyric. It’s a great line. On a couple of the songs, vocal harmonies are used to great effect and it’s a nice diversion to what is mostly an album of a guy singing alone

My overall impression of “Names” is that it is an album of angst. Upon further listens, I hope to discover what all this angst is about, as I would consider myself an angst connoisseur. As for right now, it was a bit of a hike to get through it. I do think there’s something here worth exploring further. Parts of it are inspired, but mostly listening to all 12 tracks in a row was like swallowing a pill. I’ll down some beer, make someone drive me around and see if a change in location and my Toyota’s stereo system will change my mind.

Editors Note: The album is free (or best offer) here.

Jonathan Mann: Barefoot in the Family Tree EP

Lora Enfield-Parker, March 24, 2010 in Uncategorized. 0 Comments Tags: , .

You can’t fake talent. You are either born with the aptitude to learn a skill or not, but repetition is the mother of genius. This is a long-held belief of mine, so I was really excited to come across Jonathan Mann. (Watch him explain who he is here.) His creative career centers around his theory that if he writes a song a day some will suck, most will be in the ok to good category, and some will be great. He selected five of his best songs to include on his EP, “Barefoot in the Family Tree.” Intrigued, I jumped in to see if his EP would support his theory or if it would collapse under scrutiny.

After about five listens in, I was annoyed. This might just be personal preference, since the songs were incredibly diverse. I was pulled in one way, just to have the next track shove me in the opposite direction. If one is writing a song a day, I can see where playing with genre and style happens, if nothing else but to keep from being bored. I was jarred, however, and his style made me wonder what his true sound is. How does Jonathan Mann define himself as an artist? Does he know? The EP provides no clear picture. I understand, he has five songs to grab his audience. Most artists aren’t so stylistically fragmented.

Now that that is out of the way, each of these songs (with the exception of one) are pretty good. A couple I would describe as being great (true to his theory, he’ll be happy to hear). “Dance and Dance Again” is hands down the best song on the EP and the best one to open with. It’s really quirky. It starts out with handclaps, something that reminds me of 16 bit video game music played on guitar mixed with a Mexican/old-western theme. This interesting combination becomes infiltrated with a chorus of whoas and ohs and piano in the background. The more I listened to this song, the more I loved it. The breakdown was a great accent and bonus, the song mentions being caught in the rain, and upon my second listen, I was in my car, driving in the rain. Nature and music collided. It was cool. I was there.

“We Are Pattern Machines” has some interesting thoughts that are worth pondering. “I’m sick of seeing patterns everywhere” is a great lyric. Does the Universe have meaning, or is it just a collection of randomness? Either way, our brains are wired to make patterns to create meaning to help us understand the world around us. The song uses accordion, a marching drum beat, and vibraphone. Mann layers his own vocals on top of each other, and they are the highlight.

The third track, “Penguins Having a Party” was my least favorite song on the album. But, by listen seven? I was singing with it. Not sure if that was a reflection on the song itself, or more my being impressionable. The lyrics are nonsensical, the tune almost grating. This is the first track on the album where Mann utilizes other singers and it does add a nice layer to what would be a really annoying song otherwise. You go with it. You accept it. It’s a song about penguins. They are having a party. It’s a happy time. Stop thinking, unless you’re thinking about penguins having a party. Awwwww, wouldn’t that be cute?!

My second favorite song, “Bury Me Beneath the Ocean” is just a beautiful song. I couldn’t make out the lyrics, and I didn’t have to. The music spoke for itself. It is dominated by a female voice very heavy on the reverb. Mixed with surfer ballad style guitar, it transported me to an island surrounded by brilliant blue water. A tremolo effect on the guitar solo and Mann’s voice singing “bury me” over the female’s melodic phrasings lent to an underwater feel, which is what he was going for. Mission achieved.

The final song on the album gets credit for being the best lyrically. The style is typical folk music, just guitar and vocals for the majority of the song and harmonica added toward the end. The song has a nice melody, but were it not for the lyrics, it wouldn’t be worth mentioning. “Baby, It All Led To You” is incredibly clever writing. Mann chronicles the process of evolution starting with primordial ooze, continuing through the dawn of mammals, and ending with “a horny teenage couple.” All these events created his lover. If any of these steps had been omitted, baby, it wouldn’t have led to you. It’s an odd subject matter, juxtaposed with folk music, but it’s endearing. A repeated lyric of “And not one died,” shows the frailty all of us faced in our journey to be born.

I will listen to this EP again in the future. Will it become a staple in my listening collection? That’s harder to predict. Two or three songs are definitely playlist worthy. I do think Mann is on the right track with his song-a-day project. If he ever cobbles together a theme or genre that he commits to for the duration of a full length album, I’ll be here.

You can download the complete EP here.

Mayer Hawthorne: A Strange Arrangement

Lora Enfield-Parker, February 17, 2010 in Music Reviews. 6 Comments Tags: , .

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The first 25 seconds of Mayer Hawthorne’s “A Strange Arrangement” opens with a harmonic and dissident a cappella phrase, titled “Prelude”.  It’s an ear-pleasing way to start an album with Hawthorne’s voice overlaying on top of itself in complex harmonies. It grabs your attention and lets you know that yes, you’re listening to something different. Something you normally wouldn’t, but hang on, you’re probably going to like it.

The next song, “A Strange Arrangement” begins with just piano, bass and Hawthorne’s breathy high voice. Hawthorne’s voice is soothing, vibrato-free and light. He doesn’t have a wide range, or chooses to stick with mid-to-high tones. I reiterate, though, it’s pleasant. His voice is incredibly well suited to his music – strong melodies, simple beats horns, because a soul album is not a soul album without horns. It takes a full 35 seconds until drums come into the song, and shortly thereafter flutes round out the sound.

“A Strange Arrangement” sets the whole tone of the album. It feels like listening to a 40-year-old, lo-fi record. The only thing lacking are record pops. Everything is authentic, every note is perfect. It feels like more of a soul album than most soul albums from the 1960’s. It’s simple, repetitive and emotional.

For me, track 4, “Maybe So, Maybe No” is the best song on the album. It has everything you need in a song: horns, strong beat, classic soul guitar and bass, and vocal harmonies that drive the meaning of the song. “Maybe So, Maybe No” is about not knowing where you stand with the one you are obsessed with. That precarious time where you over-analyze every aspect about that person and you wonder if it will ever work out. Could that person love you as much as you want them to? For anyone who has ever been in love (and lost) this song, and album, will resonate with you. Hawthorne does this while putting exactly the right music to your heart cracking in two.

“Make Her Mine” is a very upbeat and catchy track smack in the middle of the album, The placement comes as a much needed break from slitting one’s wrists or crying in one’s beer. Really, that’s this albums greatest strength, it does not allow itself to become monotonous. Another notable song, “One Track Mind” lyrically makes this feminist want to throw up. A woman spending her man’s money because she can, and he let’s her because, “she’s so fine” is indeed, gag inducing. But here again, the music is so upbeat and fun, that I actually sang along and enjoyed every minute of it.

The track, “The Ills” comes in just second after “Maybe So, Maybe No” for me. A nice fast beat pushes this song , strong horns, and Hawthorne’s super high oooh’s coast freely in the background over his version of a social anthem. Incredibly upbeat in tempo and in melody, you would dance to it immediately if you didn’t take the time to listen to the lyrics. Hawthorne doesn’t say much noteworthy, or that hasn’t been said, about the Hurricane Katrina tragedy. He keeps it simple and concisely acknowledges that bad things happen. What are you going to do about it? Are you going to get back up? Do you have a choice? You WILL get back up, because survival is paramount to the human experience. The pushing beat of the drums steers his vision home, as you can’t sit still long enough to think about your problems. The music is too good, and life is too short, so fuck it. Get out there and shake it.

“Shiny and New” is forgettable. Probably the most expendable track on the album. While it does showcase Hawthorne’s ridiculously high voice, that’s about it. “Let Me Know” is heavy on the piano, filled with choruses of doo-doo-doo-doos, and is much more interesting than the proceeding song. Hawthorne’s songwriting ability really shines when he writes about the darker side of love. The music is more intuitive, lyrically he is stronger, and the listener enjoys reveling in the melancholy of it all.

The album closes with “Green Eyed Love”. Written in minor, this offering deals with being in love with someone that is wrong for you and denying said love. (Who hasn’t been there, amirightladies?) He couldn’t have chosen a more perfect track to end the album. Hawthorne’s chorus of “They say, they say, they say  you’re no good for me, but I know, I know, I know, that’s a lie” mixed with a sick guitar solo and simple piano chords is like putting sprinkles on a sundae.

The most remarkable fact?  He played every instrument on the album, as well as singing every part. This album is truly his baby, and if you don’t like it, the responsibility lies squarely on his shoulders.  I grew up listening to soul and Motown, just like the 29 year old Hawthorne.  Only instead of growing up in Kansas like I did, he grew up just outside of Detroit in Ann Arbor.  He’s well versed in even the most subtle nuances of soul. He’s done his research and his homework well. But instead of just regurgitating what others have done before him, he gives us something new, something special, and something that should have a spot in any soul lover’s collection.