Vocalist Blair Gimma, having formerly released a brilliant LP as Blair, now carries her synthesizer project Future of What(a thee-piece featuring Sam Axelrod and Max Kotelchuck) toward the release of their own debut record, Pro Dreams. Debut single and first track, "The Rainbowed Air" represents an unmitigated slow-dance, Reading Rainbow-synthesizers working and resolving under Gimma's whispering vocal. You pull your significant other closer knowing intimacy is the play, even if the geography before you represents pure fantasy. Gimma sings, "Let's try to get it right," before later refining, "It's okay to care about something that isn't even there," one way of approaching the magical realism of the band's sound and a world of "The Rainbowed Air". In this sea of colors, Gimma and her band spin world where, "if we have something to love, then we have nothing to hide," a nice idea to hold more tightly.
One of our favorite New York musicians is the indomitable Blair Gimma, formerly of her eponymous project, Blair. Moving to this past winter and the recordings for a new project, one that boasts "no cymbals", Gimma now fronts a group called Future Of What. The band already played their first show, opening for Free Energy last week at Rock Shop. The vibrating and breathy first taste of the band's EP is "I Wait For You", the rugged Liz Phair-footnotes of Blair's debut LP transformed into a slick and heart-sick synth jam. The outcome bubbles to the surface as a satisfying slice of pop rooted in Zoob Tube synths and the title lyric. Blair's vocals, always a mixture of the intimate and the distant, offer the perfect gloss to this bit of ebullient new wave. The band's Moonstruck EP is due out June 26, something that makes them, like the title lyric, something to wait for.
The big news this year was Pallettstepping out from behind his old moniker, Final Fantasy and becoming, in no uncertain terms, himself. And then he released a nearly perfect concept record about bipolar farmer, Lewis, and the problems of his magically real universe. Pallett's signature strings come on like a storm, building and menacing at the edges before washing over the arrangement with a fury and taste for renewal. The lyrics, beautiful and delicate, end up settling on single edict, "I'm never gonna give it to you." It is beautifully oppositional, independent and wholly itself.
A 2010 reviewer called Fang Island the sound of "everyone high fiving everyone." On "Daisy," an explosive, decentralized rock song, the band traffics in nonsense lyrics and chord resolutions so big they pull the plane out of the nose-dive, reset the financial markets and, yes, organize a six billion person high five at the apex of an arrangement built to crest. In a year with too much anxiety for too many people, Fang Island took this gospel of freedom on the road and to the people: Less worry, more hand slapping.
18. Band of Horses - "Dilly"
Band of Horses did the crossover this year, making more money than ever before and managing to frustrate some of their loyalists. The record was too pop. It was being sold in Starbucks. It was built for sync. "Dilly" cut through the hype and the criticism to divine one of the great choruses of the year. Modulating between three pitches and settling on easy rhymes and platitudinous lyrics, "It took a tall one to see it/two to believe it/three to just get in the way," made it instantly memorable, singable and infectious. In 2011, this will be the soundtrack for some dreadful movie trailer. The crossover is dangerous, but it works.
17. Computer Magic - "Running"
We have a certifiable music crush on Danz from Computer Magic. Her string of one-off singles dominated 2010 in intervals of her choosing and with shocking consistency for an artist that admits she's only been making music for a few months. On "Running," uneasy synths swirl and sway in the ether, as her voice sheds pretension and asks the simple, if fleeting question, "And I'm running all the time/Can you catch him before I go?" No one is making better laptop pop anywhere right now.
It was a year dominated by the surf rock of the Drums and the Weezer-beach vibes of Surfer Blood and the stoned summer of Wavves and Best Coast. Amongst all this coastal music, everyone missed the Finnish upstarts French Films and their buzzing and propulsive "Golden Sea." Track one of the Golden Sea EP, one of the best of the year, the song of the same name takes us to the water, but there is a trick. The slurring lyrical delivery sharpens around the final chorus, "It was only a dream," as plinking synths erupt like children let out for recess, proving the best beaches are the ones we go to in our minds.
15. The Naked and Famous - "Young Blood"
It was the wanton hopelessness of the central lyric, "fall back in love eventually," that kept "Young Blood" from being one of those blind anthems of youth. The Naked and Famous explored the concept of unfettered younger days with a hint of the despair that always creeps near the edge of such meditations. Fact is, lionizing youth is a losing battle, every day the romance a little less intense, each moment a little less pure. It was those words, "fall back in love eventually," that gave a certain, hopeless and hopeful finality to these breathless, sparkler-holding, bleeding-from-the-arm, jumping-in-the-deep-end days of miracle and wonder.
14. Frightened Rabbit - "Nothing Like You"
The next move is never clear for a band who made their name by being miserable and now, against the odds and better advice, are happy. So it was not by choice that Frightened Rabbit fostered a different sense of pathos on 2010 release, The Winter of Mixed Drinks. The band was famous now, and the lead singer was in a relationship that he repeatedly and fondly referenced on stage. The only thing worse than being happy is trying to fake misery. So, Frightened Rabbit angled to describe how they got happy. The pointed and furious "Nothing Like You," took the romance of the platitude in the title, turned it entirely around, not as a compliment but as an accusation. The most damning line is the first one, "This is a story and you are not in it," before offering a shovel for this previous love to bury herself.
On the cusp of super-stardom, Sweden's the Radio Dept. released their best record, Clinging To A Scheme in 2010. Sunny single, "Heaven's On Fire" hid something darker, a perfection inflamed, maybe by an arsonist, from just one look at "you." The power of this significant other - and here we mean this literally - is not unidirectional; its capabilities both productive and able to destroy. Over bouncy keys and lighter-than-air drums and guitars, the vocals belay this danger. One of the best songs of the year, hiding in plain sight, ready to light your perfect world on fire.
12. Magic Man - "Monster"
Boston's Magic Man released one of the best truly independent records of the year, Real Life Color, a twinkling bit of electro-pop that made no apologies. On "Monster," a nearly six-minute epic, there are three distinct movements, each colliding into final marching orders, "Find your monsters, don't tell you friends," turning human psychology into a gigantic internal game of Manhunt. As for the outside world, they tell us to, "leave the world in a jar but come back to it." We are reminded of the great frontier inside, of the terror and beauty that lie within us, and of the stunning little keyboard band in Boston.
It was a little guitar record from a girl in Brooklyn that grabbed us by the throat in 2010. While at times it was reminiscent of a twenty years later Exile In Guyville, this wasn't so angled against love or at sewing up a busted heart. If anything, Blair'sDie Young, and its most seminal track, "Hearts" is about being in love with youth, what she calls the yearning and aching of young life. In her fortune cookie wisdom, Blair confides, "my heart hides in a cassette tape", one of the most subtle and winning lyrics of the year. The final minute finds a spinning conclusion with the hyperventilating title lyric recast as texture. We never had this song on cassette, but we spent most of the year hiding in this digital record, a new, modern love.
Only at CMJ is the guitarist of Magic Bullets waiting for one of the members of Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr. to leave the bathroom so they can play their set at Bruar Falls. The lead singer of Dominant Legs is in the front row, relaying the score of the San Francisco Giants playoff game (they would go on to win in dramatic fashion). It is a proper noun hurricane of too many bands, maybe even too many great bands, all stuffed together in venues that don't always suit them, in time slots that push the boundaries of what is possible.
Earnhardt Jr. Jr. won the night with a stripped down 8pm set at Bruar Falls and the promise of destruction later at Santos. Playing effectively "unplugged," the boys usually accustomed to their jumpsuits, electronics and drummer, channeled something closer to Simon and Garfunkel or Grizzly Bear, using rich harmonies and delicate instrumentals to craft something quiet and brilliant. They confessed before the show, "we only agreed to this because I said if we didn't play three shows in a day, I wasn't coming." This was more than moderately sarcastic. The stage was too small and they were too pressed for time, only playing three songs. Magic Bullets take the stage almost imediately and prove every bit the post-Lucksmiths pop you might think them to be. The Earnhardt boys are packing their gear and their frustration, heading for Santos and the blocks below Canal.
Later at Rock Shop, the bill was again packed. Blair played her set of extremely winning pop songs in the 9:30 slot. Her record, Die Young, is still one of the year's finest and her stage show, with tie-dyed backing band, chooses delicacy over bombast. LESANDS would take the stage from San Diego. Their lead-singer chuckles and mumbles, "ha, yeah, sun." It is glimmering synths and packaged loops for the next half hour as LESANDS prove every bit of the potential we caught in LA over the summer. The night closes with Beach Fossils well after 1am. Enough ink has been spilled on their behalf to not merit further working here, but suffice it to say their surf-rock progressions owe more than a little to early-career Cure. As the Rock Shop crowd headed out to the ungently gentrifying 4th Avenue landscape, it was another night full of bands, too many photographers and too much good music.
We heard Blair for the first time back in March amidst an email chain regarding Liz Phair and the critical impact of Exile In Guyville. It all seemed too fortunate. Blair, originally from Louisiana and now part of the Brooklyn Illuminati, made us manage to squeak out that we thought it was her year. Well, it still is, exiled or not. She was nice enough to trade emails with us and color us pink and blue and completely charmed.
32feet: Top 5 Desert Island records?
Blair:
One Foot in the Grave - Beck Loveless - My Bloody Valentine Harvest - Neil Young The White Album - The Beatles Plastic Ono Band - John Lennon
Has Liz Phair been about as good and bad for girls as Nick Hornby has been for boys?
Liz Phair spoke her mind without any hesitance. She didn't stop to wonder if this is how a girl is supposed to talk. Hornby's characters seem to explore their romantic obsessions with a similar kind of honesty, that doesn't stop to consider if this is how they are supposed to be feeling. They just feel that way without self reflection. So, yes Liz Phair and Nick Hornby are equally good and bad. I'm assuming "bad" means good "bad" though.
If you could describe your music in two sentences, what would they be?
Kittens. Rainbows.
Usually, I ask bands if they were on a sinking ocean liner and there were only two life jackets, who would get them? It can be revealing. Since it's only you, let's assume there's 40% of a life jacket. Do you take it or say, "fuck it, that's a broken life jacket" and swim for it?
I'd float for as long as possible.
Stylistically, who is the one influence, from whom you borrow, that no one ever picks up on?
I listened to Blood Sugar Sex Magic by Red Hot Chili Peppers endlessly as a teenager. I am very influenced by John Frusciante's melodic palate. I don't play funk, and I can't tear it up like him, but there are a decent amount of similarities in our guitar playing. I went on to listen to listen to his solo records endlessly also, especially the first one, How to Record Water for 10 Days.
What is the one thing people don't know about you that they should absolutely, always remember?
Sometimes, I wish animals were different colors than what they are. You know, like pink deers, or blue bears. That would be amazing.
Every year SXSW yields a few bands who walk away with some real momentum. Of course, this over simplifies a process that includes many outstanding bands, label executives punishing their expense accounts and a ton of glad-handing and back-slapping. Ultimately, for all the business discussions and networking, we are left with the few bands who get to use this Brokedown Palace-business model to their advantage. Last year, we suggested that Local Natives would come stormingout of SXSW. This year, meet Blair.
Blair is one of those trans-continental stories, new to Brooklyn, from New Orleans, spent some time in LA. Her music is cute without being cloying, managing to deal in enough heartbreak to evoke a more modern and less slutty Liz Phair, or a substantially grungier Leslie Feist. "Heart" turns into a massive, whirring pathos, after a beginning of shabby 90s guitars and bright keyboards. The haunting pre-chorus, repeating, "it's different, I mean it, wake up, it's different," will stay with you well past the song's slated running time of just under four-minutes. The more straight-forward "Hello Halo" is a little slice of uptempo, lo-fi, showcasing Blair's vocals and a hook that unapologetically indicates, "Got a radio in my head." You absolutely have to believe her. Our radios are in our chests, and we're in love with this. Let's check back in December, but this is her year now.
