Scroll down for the latest releases by The Orange Peels, David Fridlund, Oneida, Robbie Fulks and The Go-Betweens

The Orange Peels
Circling the Sun

(Parasol)

parasol.com

The Orange Peels may very well just be the aural cure for Seasonal Affective Disorder. Seemingly in an attempt to test the truth of this statement, Allen Clapp and his Peels posse headed to Minnesota to work with Bryan Hanna, the front man for the wonderful power pop band The Hang Ups. Well, not one scintilla of the ebullient sound perfected by Clapp was lost in the Land of 10,000 Lakes.

So it's business as usual for The Orange Peels. Allen Clapp not only has a sound, but he has a stance as a composer. Both musically and lyrically, Clapp is seeking to uplift. At times, the message can be interpreted as religious, but in a manner similar to some of Pete Townshend's songs to Meher Baba, the praises are vague enough that they can be interpreted as love songs. Even when the chips are down, Clapp sounds so damned happy to be alive.

I'm not going to claim that Clapp is a writer of unusual depth. But I will say that he has a specific vision which he is very effective at turning into great pop songs. For the third time (and more, if you count his solo work), he has littered an album with jangling guitars, perky rhythms and winsome winning melodies. Unlike the prior release, So Far, there's less of an obvious ‘80s jangle rock antecedent here, which isn't to say that such an influence is removed.

What really seems to influence the Orange Peels is the Orange Peels. What I mean, is that they have developed such a distinctive sound, that they are just building on the past. They do it so well, that I've spent the last month listening to "Long Cold Summer", just positive that this was an old track that they had rerecorded. This is somewhat akin to Paul McCartney thinking that the melody he heard in a dream (which became "Yesterday") had already been penned by someone else, except for the fact that I'm not Paul McCartney, and the additional fact I could have quickly gone to my collection to check if I was correct.

Anyway, "Long Cold Summer" is a classic Orange Peels track, and they could record a version of it for all future albums and I would not complain. Like some of the tracks on So Far, Clapp is assessing the past. Befitting a song about a memory, the tune fades in. The song is about opportunity lost, and the verses pulse as an acoustic guitar plays, teamed with light electric guitar flourishes. The chorus is simply ruing a relationship that fell apart, lamenting how "we lost that summer/we shot that summer." The soaring melody isn't a celebration but venting over romantic loss. The buoyant sound may not seem to mesh with the lyrics, but it actually reinforces the bittersweet feelings. There was obviously something good there. It just didn't last.

"Circling the Sun" is even more glass half-full. "Never was a bitter person/sure I could have been more certain/feeling so lost/feeling so deserted/as the seasons run." The music is about as close as the Peels get to new wave revival, staking out a territory near The Cars and the chirpier side of Fountains of Wayne. Often either the keyboards or lead guitar doubles up the melody with Clapp's vocal. As Clapp realizes he lost a potential keeper, you realize that he believes it's far better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.

The band cascades in on "I Don't Wanna Shine", led by some light twang guitar and harmonica. Clapp is so encouraging, singing lines like "you are so special/you have so much potential." The song almost plays like an internal dialogue, with Clapp trying to hype himself up in the verses, understanding the obstacles preventing him from shining, and then in the chorus, not so much resigning himself to fate, but trying to come up with a reason for not reaching that potential. If this tune doesn't get him reaching for the stars, I'm not sure what will.

I'm also not sure where this ranks amongst the three Orange Peels records, and I'm certainly not sure if any such ranking is necessary at this point. I will say that The Orange Peels are a pop treasure and a band that radiates joy and vitality.

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David Fridlund
Amaterasu

(Hidden Agenda/Adrian)

parasol.com

This is an album that you have to sit back and let it affect you. I've been listening to this for about a month now, and the thing is still unfolding for me. Sumptuous, I guess. Fridlund is a Swede with a power pop background. This is the good ol' singer-songwriter transition. What hits me is that a lot of his stuff sounds like folkie songs played on the piano. I'm trying to think of a real well known singer to compare him to. The best I can come up with is David Dondero, who isn't well known, but that's not his fault. Mix that in with some orch-pop leanings, a la Eric Matthews, and some interesting lyrics, and this makes for an absorbing disc.

A lot of Fridlund's songs are about unresolved love (as opposed to unrequited), connections that are made, broken and perhaps never to be made again. He also dwells on leaving small town hell for something bigger, though he never quite grasps what it is. Throughout the album, no matter how structured the compositions and how dense the arrangements, Fridlund radiates a restless energy. Even if the specific feelings that he is trying to convey aren't exactly the same as the listener's, most of us have labored under anxiety, so well portrayed by Fridlund.

On "November", however, the need for a connection is wrapped in anger. This is one of the quietest numbers on the record, with Fridlund at his most modulated, backed by a delicately played acoustic guitar and muted piano. The key passage in the song: "All the things you said/I kept it in my head/but the things I said to you.../you forgot it." The bane of many a romance, where one partner is more in love than the other. As the song unfolds, Fridlund slowly builds up his vocal intensity, yet never explodes, as if resigned to his fate. The song then bursts into what sounds like a parade procession, with horns blowing and cymbals crashing, as if he is marching away, sad and defiant.

The folk song motif I mentioned above comes through loud and clear on "April & May". Fridlund plays a tune suitable for a Russian bar, the piano carrying both the melody and the rhythm. Fridlund does a great job of penning lyrics that fit the clipped rhythm of the song. Fridlund effortlessly tries other styles throughout the record, including a terrific jazz-flavored instrumental, "Knives". The music is so good, I wonder why he decided not to add lyrics to the piece.

Although the first half of the record is quite nice, I think it really hits it stride in the second half, which has the three best songs on the disc. "3 Pictures (of You & You & You)" starts off like just another brooding piano-pop song, blending a bit of jazz with quavering folk intensity. The song has melody and a pleasing rhythm, as Fridlund gets the lyrics out in his usual manner. Then, the fuzz guitar comes in on the chorus, and Fridlund's excitement level picks up a few levels. All throughout the record, he stands on the verge of exploding, and here he does it very effectively. Yet even while the guitars are buzzing, he's still playing his little piano figures. How Thunderclap Newman. The song ends with everything falling apart in a controlled cacophony.

For some reason, "Bus Ride & Carsick" has a rolling chord sequence, which, combined with Fridlund's vocal, reminds me a bit of The Violent Femmes, if they worked with Warren Zevon. That Russian folk feel comes back during the instrumental break, with a cool clipped guitar solo. This song always sounds like it's in danger of jumping the tracks, yet it clatters along, ending with Nils Lidman blowing away on his sax, while stinging guitar lines play underneath.
This is followed by the superb "Before it Breaks". The song starts quietly, and Fridlund's melody is equal to luminaries such as Ben Folds and Rufus Wainwright. The song sounds like Fridlund is creating the melody on the spot, and figuring out the piano parts instantaneously, the way the song goes from measured to impassioned. This is a song where the lyrics portray confusion and restlessness, with Fridlund concluding that "this world was never meant for me/I need to leave it behind/I need to see something/I need to get out." As he hits the last line, the horns and strings kick in and his voice soars. The song then briefly breaks down. Then, it ends with a sad yet triumphant coda, as the piano and saxophone lead the way to the fade.

This is a record that has an all-encompassing sense of style. Fridlund is captivating throughout. While not every song is chock full of surprises, he usually finds a nice little twist or addition that makes a tune extra-special. This is a spectacular debut.

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Robbie Fulks
Georgia Hard

(Yep Roc)

yeproc.com

As rock became considered an art form by some in the ‘60s, an aesthetic based on notions of authenticity developed (hence, Bob Dylan was a traitor for going electric). Granted, authenticity is in the ears of the beholder, so what passes muster varies from critic to critic and genre to genre. In seizing upon authenticity as an aesthetic test, many critics and fans overlook that some of the greatest songs of the 20th Century were created solely with the intention of garnering as wide an audience as possible. Of course, if you're Hank Williams, you can embody this dichotomy and satisfy everyone. After all, when you've learned your craft from a sharecropper and come from dirt poor roots, you're not just authentic -- you're authentically authentic. Those not so fortunate to come from such humble beginnings have it harder.

Hank could connect with the common man, because he was the common man. And the dominant aesthetic of country music is an appeal to the everyday concerns of the audience. One doesn't expect a country artist to attempt to address a 19th Century Austria-Hungary conflict or suffuse himself in amelodic structures to comment on post-modernism in a post-communist world. The art of country music is to speak to the common man -- which may take a lot of calculation.

I'm quite sure that the principles I'm trying to articulate are old hat for Robbie Fulks. I'm in awe of his talents. He is a walking encyclopedia of country music history. And he can take his knowledge and respect for the form and turn it into magical music, because he is one of the most skilled performers of his generation. An ace songwriter, a terrific guitar player, a top notch vocalist and a pure entertainer who can win over a crowd in minutes.

On his new album, Fulks reaches back to the late ‘50s and early ‘60s, when country became, as Fulks puts it in his liner notes, "country-for-grownups". Which means there's a mix of the standard country lyrical cleverness, put in service of more adult themes. So this album is, to a large degree, wholly contrived, and Fulks capably creates an authentic ‘60s country feel. But it's not just style for style's sake, as Fulks sticks with country's tradition of coming up with creative ways to describe common concerns.

Fulks's liner note observation about grown-up country comes to life on the great "Doin' Right (For All the Wrong Reasons)". The song is pure countrypolitan, with only some steel guitar and the style of melody giving it a country stamp. Oh, and the lyrics are brillaint. The song is about a married man who has a chance at a fling but declines, not because of his morals, but because his father-in-law owns the business he stands to inherit. The bridge is perfect, as the melody swells, and Fulks's angst comes to the fore: "I've come to that crossroads time after time/and I'm damned if I cheat and damned if I walk the line/so I close my eyes and feel that body on mine/and I just might risk it all/if the thrilling was worth the fall."

Fulks offers a different angle on family values on "If They Could Only See Me Now". Musically, the song is reminiscent of Buck Owens's "Big in Vegas". Here, Fulks tells a tale of marrying a rich girl, against the wishes of his parents. His folks don't show up for his wedding, and when he moves into a big house on the hill, he can see his old shack. As it turns out, his parents were right – this kept man has married a cheater. This being a country song, this could only end up one way...and another man ends up on death row. This is an ingenuous mix of a song extolling old country ways (watch out for those city slickers) with the murder ballad.

Sometimes, Fulks is just clever and funny. What more can you say about the honky-tonk howler "All You Can Cheat", about the hotel where you take your mistress? Fulks goes cornpone on "I'm Gonna Take You Home (And Make You Like Me)". This is a duet with Robbie's wife, Donna. He's crazy in love, she's shooting him down and he just won't stop trying to pick her up. They bicker and jape, and Donna's last line is a killer.

The funniest song breaks with the overall throwback concept, which is O.K., because "Countrier Than Thou" is a song whose time as come. Over a greasy honky tonk backing, Fulks takes exception to Northerners who put on Southern airs. Of course, Fulks is singing about a lot of folks in his audience, but he puts his snaps across with such charm, everyone will laugh. And he seals the deal in the last verse, when he notes the biggest fake Southerner – George W. Bush: "He's got a ranch with a Stetson/he's a hip shootin' ex-oil king/even talks like Buddy Ebsen/but he's sitting in the West Wing."

In addition to these tracks, there's plenty more good honky-tonk, like "It's Always Raining Somewhere", the sad acoustic tale of "Coldwater, Tennessee", which would have fit well on Fulks's classic album *Couples In Trouble*, the swinging cool instrumental "Right on Redd", and a whole lot more. For a variety of reasons, it's been a while since the last Robbie Fulks album, and this effort makes it clear that the more albums he can make the better off we will all be.

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The Go-Betweens
Oceans Apart

(Yep Roc)

yeproc.com

Once in a while, I get to a point while listening to an album and realize that I might very well be dealing with a classic. That may be the case here, though it will take a little more time to see if it holds up. For now, let me just say that the third album since Robert Forster and Grant McClellan reformed The Go-Betweens is their best since the reunion. Why? Well, for starters, Forster and McClellan have penned some awesome tunes. But it's not like making a great album is merely a matter of write great songs, add water, and presto! – a classic materializes. As any of us who've read Mojo or watched VH-1's Behind The Music know, it doesn't take much to screw up a band and the band's work.

Likewise, there is a certain convergence that takes place, sometimes out of an artist's utter misery creating something cathartic. Other times, it's the artist being in a place of comfort and contentment that leads to top notch work. This is pure speculation, but I think the latter may be true here. First, the continuity of this new edition of The Go-Betweens is part of the equation. Not only do Forster and McClellan work with the same musicians as on their last effort (2003's Bright Yellow Bright Orange), they also are probably really in Go-Betweens mode, so to speak. It's not just a novelty reunion now, but an ongoing entity. Second, the band is working again with producer Mark Wallis, who manned the boards for the first edition's swan song, the stunning 16 Lovers Lane. Reteaming with a familiar mentor couldn't have hurt.

Enough rambling and speculating. The bottom line is that there are plenty of great tunes here. The most immediately striking song is "Darlinghurst Nights", in which Forster's memories of the rough hewn Australian urban neighborhood are somewhat fond and somewhat upsetting. The elegant acoustic guitar chords and light leads in the background, are the perfect bed for Forster's pronouncements. This song ambles along as thoughts seem to pop into Forster's head, and then he sings them, with the exception of the pithy chorus ("always the traffic/always the lights/Joe played the cello/through those Darlinghurst nights"). He vacillates between wanting to go back to an alley to let the past come back to him, or "change his appearance every day...going...to Caracas/because you know I'm just going to have to get away". He then lists the names of those gone but not forgetten and then the chorus gets repeated again and again, as horns come into the mix, and Forster sounds like he not only can't believe those days are gone, but he can't believe they ever really happened.

McClellan's "No Reason to Cry" is a rumination on a similarly bittersweet reminiscence. This song comes from the same place as past Go-Betweens classics like "Bachelor Kisses", with an effortless summer melody that glistens with joy, yet offers a strong tinge of melancholy. In the second chorus, some lilting lead guitar adds a Rascals ballad feel to the proceedings. Indeed, there is just a kiss of R & B on this song that is heart tugging. The song ends with a reprisal of the primary melody and creamy strings, as McClellan offers that he has to find a reason...to cry.

Trilling keyboards are a special touch on McClellan's "The Statue". This song casts an old lover as a relic and a work of art. McClellan seeks her touch, but she's unavailable, just a monument in his memory. He keeps singing "cause you're a statue/nothing can hurt you/you've lost the touch", but really he's the one who's lost the touch, really (in love, not as a songwriter...). Not all looks into the past are so sad. Forster sings of being "Born to a Family" of "workers". This bouncy yet languid number is essentially Forster rationalizing his career choice. Although everyone in his family before him slogged the lunch pail, Forster was born to be a troubador. We're all better for it. Because it also means delights like the laconic character study "Lavender", with Forster singing over a rhythm with light reggae percussion and a country-and-western lope.

If anything McClellan's music may sound even happier, though it inevitably is in service of something a bit more sour. "This Night's for You" has lovely backing vocals from the rhythm section of Adele Pickvance and Glenn Thompson, but the swoony and moony verses are pierced by an uncharacteristic hard guitar chords and a descending melody. Then he manages to send the chorus upwards again, to the night sky he is singing about. Then there's "Finding You", which has all the earmarks of a summer song, with a terrific hook -- it's primo acoustic pop.

The initial pressing of this disc comes with a bonus live EP. But don't make a purchase of this disc hang on the bonus. The 10 songs here offer plenty of value.

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Oneida
The Wedding

(Jagjaguwar)

jagjaguwar.com

This prolific New York trio continues to expand its horizons, building a bridge between its Krautrock and psychedelic influences, and the results are very impressive. So much of the Oneida sound is grounded in its precise rhythms. On this album, they move away from that on many songs. While they will never be master melody makers, the melodies here are often the focus of the songs. Moreover, there are some very direct lyrics -- the music may exude beauty and mystery, but the matters at hand are sometimes pretty accessible.

When I think of Oneida, I think of minimalist repetition, taken to the highest level. The sound centers around the precision drumming of Kid Millions, who metronomically taps out unusual time signatures. Keyboardist Bobby Matador and guitarist Hanoi Jane then work their way around Millions, sometimes interlocking, sometimes careening, or one syncopating with the drums, while the other slowly but surely overlaying something on the track. Here, the band pretty much stays away from this classic sound. It only crops up on "Lavender". Millions kicks the song into gear, and then Matador plays a keyboard line that compliments the ebb-and-flow beat. Jane adds a riff that fits right between the two, and then begins playing some racing lead guitar. Then Jane begins singing a pithy folk melody, with a nod to "California Dreaming" – "on such a winter's day". There really is no other band that could come up with a song like this.

That can't quite be said for the rest of the album. Yet, this is not a drawback. Even as Oneida plays relatively more conventional songs, there is still a guiding sensibility that bears the band's stamp. This is due in large part to the band's consistent devotion to repetition and Krautrock, which informs quite a few of the tracks. In this regard, though the bands don't sound much alike, Oneida has a certain musical kinship with The Fall.

However, I don't think The Fall has worked with strings, which Oneida does here. Two particularly striking tracks are premised on simple repetitious melodies that are in league with Phillip Glass, or, if you want a rock comparison, XTC's "River of Orchids". "Know" and "The Eiger" are simply lovely. On "Know", the sweeping strings are accompanied by an Indian music beat. You could dance around the maypole to this song. Jane is surprisingly tender as he apologizes to his intended lover: "I'm sorry I fucked up when I knew/some other guy was seeing you/I hoped that your body would recognize/that my studied indifference/was all/a guise." "The Eiger", which opens the album, is even more Glass-like. It gets the album off to a majestic start, as Jane tells a "pretty little German girl/The Eiger is my only world". He tells her that he won't risk his life on a mountain, if that means risking their love. Aw, shucks.

The remainder of the album contains a few more lovely moments like those, some forays into pure psychedelia, a couple more experimental numbers, and three rockers – akin to what they used to call acid rock, back in the day. On "Spirits", the band really taps into 1968 Summer Of Love magic, with Eastern style chording and a hazy swirl of guitars and keyboards, while Kid Millions delicately stomps away on his drum kit. Guest guitarist Adam Davison plays some lovely and stinging lead guitar. Another track that catches that spirit is the closer, "August Morning Haze", which has another nursery rhyme melody (the band supplies just enough to get by), but reminds me of The Pretty Things at their lysergic best, and by extension, the more psych explorations of Led Zeppelin.

Bobby Matador's presence (no Led Zeppelin reference album title pun intended) is felt heavily on the most unusual tracks. On "Charlemagne", his keyboard work dominates on another delicate number. When the strings play in response to Matador's foreboding keyboard part, in sympathy musically, yet in tension moodwise, it creates something very special. Matador's analog organ gives a new texture to another song with a repeating string part on "High Life". This song also features the great lines "I will never tell a soul/that you finished my last bowl/I loved you then/I love you now/at least tonight." Kinda playful.

But it's serious business when the band rocks. "Did I Die" is a brutal plodding (in a good way) rocker. Jane strains his vocal chords, proto-heavy metal style, in a number that could be covered by Queens Of The Stone Age. The band layers on the guitars, and Jane adds a snaking bass line. After the chorus, the song takes a 180 degree turn, as Jane plays a pretty guitar part and Matador creates a drone that rides the song out. "Heavenly Choir" isn't as brutal, yet it's still heavy. I mean HEAVY, man. This is another drone fest, with Millions and Jane laying down some bottom, while the guitars, keyboards and a sitar float above. This song feels desperate and angry.

The climax of the album is the lengthy "The Beginning Is Nigh". This is a dense, swirling number. Millions lays down another beat laden with portent, while Matador adds doom laden electric piano notes and up and down keyboard figures, and Jane then colors with a circular lead guitar part. This is a variation on the classic Oneida method I referenced earlier, applied to pure ‘60s style music. This sounds like some lost relic from a test pressing that is waiting for raves from a critic for Ugly Things magazine. The song is haunting and simmers throughout, as the musical bed created by the band is utterly hypnotic.

This album is simply a triumph for this trio. They challenge themselves by going away from certain elements of their tried-and-true sound, though they don't stray from their basic principles. The result is a great piece of 21st Century psychedelic music.

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