Was a pleasure catching up with @xanderholmesau to talk about his latest beauty 'Boyhood', and having the guys from @matildaredisgood in to talk about their new track 'Rent's Due' and the launch show on the 10th!
The performances we recorded with the legends will be on our Facebook later this week 😘
Make a weekend of it! Our friends at Four Points by Sheraton Brisbane and The Westin Brisbane have a cracking deal just for Beer InCider-goers, offers include breakfast, complimentary valet parking, and more. Book your accommodation now 👉 www.beerincider.com/info (link in our bio)
I handed my card to @chase_e_becker and he remembered seeing my page before and asked if he had used my work. I said that he had... I was mistaken, he HAD seen my work since I had posted a picture of him from a later date, but he did NOT repost my work. I hope he does post one of mine soon though
Offset continues the Migos mantra of "more is more" on his debut effort. Father of 4 is a solid if uneven introduction to the rapper offering glimpses into the person behind the tabloid fodder.
We’re talking about the man who wrote “Rain drop, drop top,” so you know the syllables will slap. Offset has a gift for finding the pocket of the beat. He laps up Wavy’s production on “Lick," a slippery tale of crime and punishment. “Father of 4” is an introspective look back on Offset’s bumpy road to fatherhood and features some of his strongest writing. J. Cole and Cee Lo Greenbring strong guest verses to “How Did I Get Here” and “North Star," respectively. Perhaps some doubted him, but Offset has more than enough charisma to carry an album on his own.
Many albums are frontloaded. However, Father of 4 is so top-heavy that it’s about to fall over. The back half of the record is a morass of similar-sounding flows over repetitive Metro Boomin beats. There was a time when seeing Boomin’s name 10 times in an album’s credits meant there was a minimum of 10 great songs. But these days, he’s too busy, perhaps even overexposed. Now if he contributes 10 beats to an album, they might not be the 10 best beats he made this month. “On Fleek” and “Quarter Milli” feel like tired versions of better songs, and “Underrated” never quite wakes up.
Finally, the song “Clout” had explosive potential, featuring as it does Offset’s recently estranged wife, Cardi B. Offset spends the first few tracks of the album revealing more of his personal life than he ever has before, but by the time “Clout” rolls around nine tracks in, he has retreated to platitudes. Or perhaps the marriage wasn’t in a place where the couple felt comfortable discussing it.
Offset splits his time between personal stories and generalized trapping, with mixed results. When he finds the right flow, few can match him for sheer musical joy. Other times he sound flat and stale. But Offset has proven he can carry his own solo album, and you have to respect the work ethic that produced these 16 tracks, even if many of them don’t merit a second listen.
78 1,18110 March, 2019
Why should Daptone, Eli “Paperboy” Reed and James Hunter have all the fun when it comes to churning out classy contemporary/retro soul? It’s a question Nick Waterhouse might have asked himself back in 2010. Or more likely, why can’t that pie get a little bigger with a shot of blue-eyed R&B from a West Coast bred lover of the kind of ’50s and ’60s sounds Austin Powers used to find “groovy baby”? Nine years, three critically acclaimed albums and plenty of road work later, Waterhouse has answered that query to everyone’s satisfaction. His music finds the perfect storm where Ray Charles, the Dap-Kings and JD McPherson meet for a shimmy-shimmy-ko-ko bop combination of styles guaranteed to get any dance floor vibrating.
But lyrically, everything is not quite as rosy in Waterhouse’s world. On the hip Motown-infused “Wreck the Rod,” he croons, “Love is a trap/ Love is a lovely suicide pact” as backing singers shout “love” in staccato harmony, a King Curtis-styled tenor sax wails, and Waterhouse howls with abandon. On the slinky, stripped-down “Which Was Writ,” he sings, “I used to trust but I learned that I was wrong” over a feline walking bass, subdued guitar and backing “woo-woos.” There are plenty of edgy love tunes too, like the swinging “Urge Coming On,” the disc’s only cover. Here the backing singers bring the churchy Raelettes/Ikettes feel (not surprising since the song’s writer Joshie Joe Armstead was once a member of both those vocal acts) as Waterhouse goes pure Jackie Wilson.
It’s an all killer-no filler set that’s the culmination of everything Nick Waterhouse has accomplished for the past nine years. He might have plenty bugging him, but with soul music this joyous and exuberant, you’ll be too busy riding the groove to care.
65 1,23510 March, 2019
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The album volleys between love songs and devastating kiss-offs, starting with the lead single “GTFO,” where Mariah invites someone to “get the fuck out” in a whisper tone so chipper that it was received as instant internet meme gold. On the jagged, jazzy “A No No,” she channels the spirit—and cadences—of TLC’s “No Scrubs” while she exterminates “snakes in the grass;” in the bridge, she riffs on the fact that no is the same across languages. The title track is a hushed threat: “Proceed with caution, don’t be dishonest / I need you closer to love me harder.” For the first half of the album, she calls the shots with the clarity of a traffic signal (“With You” and “The Distance” are both green lights; “GTFO” and “A No No” are reds, and “Caution,” is obviously yellow). But one of Carey’s songwriting strong suits is to verbalize the feelings and moments on the romantic scale that fall between grand declarations of love and loneliness, and for that reason “8th Grade” is a highlight as Carey pines for and fantasizes about her object of desire with the steadfastness of a schoolgirl.
The closer, the piano-driven “Portrait,” grows from a simple ballad to a cathartic release. During the key shift in the last minute, she enunciates her hopes and fears with a raw but strong belt in one of the least polished parts of the album.
Caution’s balance of private longing and public guarded distrust is the perfect axis to pitch a full Mariah Carey record on in 2018. It puts her pride and her pratfalls in perspective, and it adds dynamic depth to the slight, sultry vocal delivery she uses to sell the lyrics.
Following the hit Mariah took in the wake of that New Year’s Eve debacle and the fallout from her break from ex-fiancé James Packer, Caution is a signal that the signer is ready to play the game again. She also wants you to know that she controls the rules this time. People need to hear that sometimes, to know your time is not freely given, that their position in your good graces is contingent upon reciprocating love and honor and respect. Caution is an invitation and a warning. Come through, make yourself useful, or get the fuck out.
29 1,0774 March, 2019
... Continued from previous post (2 of 3)
At only 10 tracks long, Caution is the leanest album Carey has released in a while. It’s also both musically and vocally something a bit different from the singer. The singing, for the most part, stays in Carey’s lower and whisper ranges. There are belts and whistles to be found, but they are used sparingly throughout the record. Caution is a contemporary R&B record that keeps Carey current while pleasing her fanbase. The title track is shimmering mid-tempo R&B cut that sees Carey using her whisper range to change-up her lyric delivery as she varies speeds and keeps things pretty low key. In the song’s final minute the belt and power notes come, and Carey sounds magnificent.
With production from Blood Orange on "Giving Me Life," it is hardly surprising that this is the defining and most eclectic moment on the album. With echoes of "The Roof" and "The Beautiful Ones" from the iconic Butterfly album, the chorus is an immediate classic and the breakdown towards the end of the song is a stunning showcase of that vocal range against a backdrop of electric guitars.
Elsewhere on the album, she regards romance with open-eyed caginess. I can’t stop playing the single “With You,” even if it’s the sort of thing designed for Carey to sing from a standing position as her dancers bend their backs. DJ Mustard lays down simple piano chords with the air of a benediction or a graduation song, and Carey croons, oh so slowly, about a very particular meet-cute: “He said ‘Yo, I’ve been loving you so long / Ever since that Bone Thugs song.’” Her own side of the story is, naturally, told in the third person: “She was so full of such trepidation / There in front of the whole damn nation.”
Atop effervescent synths that bubble like Coke on “One Mo’ Gen,” Carey exhales, “Did you like when I put my lips there?/’Cause I like when you’re kissing me everywhere/Do you mind if we go back in one mo’ gen?” The unapologetic sexuality of this album is a low-key awakening of sorts.
Caution is a song cycle about clearing out dead weight in your life in order to make room for new faces and experiences. .
Part 2 of 3
23 1,0464 March, 2019
"I just try to keep the dream alive,” Jenny Lewis declares on “Higher”, one of the nine songs on the debut album from Nice as Fuck (NAF). What precisely that dream may be is hard to say, considering the many divergent projects Lewis has contributed to in recent years.
From the ashes of Rilo Kiley’s dissolution came a successful solo career, punctuated most recently with 2014’s memorable The Voyager. There was also I’m Having Fun Now, the album she made with guitarist and boyfriend Johnathan Rice, released under the name Jenny and Johnny. A friend to talented musicians, Lewis has stayed busy, guesting on records and touring with the likes of M. Ward, Ryan Adams, and Conor Oberst. In short, it seems that Lewis is often dreaming. Now, her latest dream has come to life.
Comprised of Lewis, Au Revoir Simone’s Erika Forster, and The Like’s Tennessee Thomas, NAF borrow liberally from punk, funk, pop, and more, a refreshing shift in sound for Lewis, who in her solo work has primarily focused on lyrical witticisms and melodic rock with the occasional country twang. There is little twang to be found with NAF — or any texture for that matter. Most of the nine tracks that make up their record are built around fast bass lines and simple percussion, relying heavily on harmonies and vocal delivery to stand apart.
On “Door”, NAF’s first single, Lewis nearly moans the final word when she sings, “If you believe in peace and love/ And the message above/ Don’t close the door.” As the song continues, harmonies set in over her wordless coos. The effect, not dissimilar from what the Watson Twins provided Lewis on Rabbit Fur Coat, is a subtle reminder that NAF is not Jenny Lewis by another name, but rather a new yet still connected trio.
Yes, much of Lewis’ aural aesthetic can be found in NAF’s sound, but the little differences — the tinge of funk on “Cookie Lips” or the bouncing bass on “Angel” — define this record as the work of three people. Whether this surprise offering is the first of many or a one-off effort, NAF justifies its existence as more than a lark or an impulse by having a message and taking a chance.
67 1,1949 August, 2018
She calls it "the hardest one I ever made"; that's Jenny Lewis' assessment of The Voyager, her first solo album since 2008's Acid Tongue. In the ensuing years, Lewis dealt with the break-up of Rilo Kiley, the death of her father, writer's block, and bouts of insomnia.
Given the background, you might expect The Voyager to be a downbeat experience and while lyrically it's unflinchingly honest, the music shines with positivity and glorious pop songwriting. This album finds Lewis pulling together something of a "greatest hits" of her sound: a mix of the alt.country of Acid Tongue and Rabbit Fur Coat, the rock and roll of Jenny & Johnny's I'm Having Fun Now and the classic overdriven Fleetwood Mac guitar pop that Rilo Kiley did so fantastically during their headily-brilliant peak moments.
"I've been wearing all-black since the day it started" are the first words out of Lewis' mouth on the opening track "Head Underwater," a wonderful burst of sunny pop that belies her tale of insomnia, hints of experimenting with substance abuse and feeling like she's becoming unknown to those around her. These are dark themes, so the "ooh-oohs" and "ba-ba-bas", along with the weighty piano and scratchy guitar riffs provide balance, and it ends up being probably the sprightliest thing Lewis has put her name to thus far.
Keeping us on our toes, "Just One of the Guys" is a lolloping country-rock track produced by Beck and featuring his subtly mumbled backing vocals where Lewis sings about feeling unable to fit in and musing on her ticking biological clock: "there's only one difference between you and me / when I look at myself all I can see / I'm just another lady without a baby." Although it's delivered with Lewis' usual wry humour, it's a remarkably honest and affecting snapshot of something that's clearly troubling the singer.
The Voyager is where we truly get to see behind the veneer of the singer and sometime actress. A fitting record, which addresses everything that's come before and yet to come - and a crowning, near-perfect album.
43 1,2078 August, 2018
Jenny & Johnny represent a different type of musical coupling. In this couple, the woman is the powerhouse and the man, though forceful in his own ways, rises to her challenges. Jenny Lewis and Johnathan Rice were creatively and romantically involved for nearly a decade; the lady, one of indie music's most successful thinking beauties, is the bigger star. Maybe that's why this project, though lighthearted, has some of the prickliness of a real day-to-day relationship. The title may be "I'm Having Fun Now," but there's room for wisecracks, bitterness and worry amid the lovey-dovey stuff.
Ms. Lewis and Mr. Rice josh and harmonize their way through the album. The songs are upbeat, looking back to folk-rock and 1970s California pop. They’re much breezier than “Acid Tongue” or Mr. Rice’s albums, and they make a game of juggling who sings what. Ms. Lewis and Mr. Rice trade off leads (while the other sings ahs and la-las), or they sing close parallel lines, or they overlap and argue with each other. “She’s an artist painting a portrait all over my heart,” he sings in “Scissor Runner,” the album’s opening song; she airily counters, “Colors bleeding, so deceiving.”
While the album’s back story is part of its charm, “I’m Having Fun Now” is not a collection of love songs. Amid the guitar strumming, they stay unsentimental; there’s far more banter than romance. Jenny and Johnny volley accusations of professional jealousy over the surf-rock beat of “My Pet Snakes.” “All the best of luck with your career,” Mr. Rice growls at the end.
In other songs they sing about travel, gods (Abrahamic and Greek), recreational drugs, promiscuity, even economics. “We save our money in good faith/And we work hard for our living wage,” Ms. Lewis sings in “Big Wave.” “But still the banks got a break.” Yet even in songs about tensions and betrayals Jenny and Johnny sound more sardonic than enraged. On this album the barbs are wrapped in smiles and irrepressible tunes.
52 1,1347 August, 2018
As thematically and sonically scattershot as her previous record (2006’s Rabbit Fur Coat) was deftly unified, Jenny Lewis’ Acid Tongue is a loose and lovely ramshackle update of the indulgent and genre-skipping singer-songwriter solo discs of the ’70s. Just as the Rabbit Fur Coat’s Appalachian twang and blue-eyed, harmonized soul was a heart-cracking revision of ’60s-styled country pop, Tongue pushes Lewis’ sound into the following decade’s take on Southern-stained music: alternately shaggy and slick, harder-edged and tinted with coke spoon reflections on failed romance, drugs, and dangerous women (“It’s a bad man’s world/ And I’m a bad, bad girl”).
Sprinting with a sound under which Rilo Kiley’s lock-limbed Under the Blacklight stumbled, Tongue moves from the string-honed lilt of opener “Black Sand” to the nine-minute suite of “The Next Messiah” (complete with rollicking, rave-up blues choruses interspersed with sensuous, funk-sweat breakdowns of Caucasoid soul) to the gorgeous melancholic shimmer of the quietly epic title track, in which Lewis’ crystalline wail is bathed in a chorus of mournful background singers. Although the LP lacks a unifying concept or theme, what does bind the album is her consistently powerful and melodic songwriting and the sheer strength of her howling, playful vocal, which has never sounded better on record.
Despite the inclusion of the sweetly skipping ballad “Godspeed” and weary closer “Sing a Song” amid barnburners like the hipgrip, beerhall swagger of “Carpetbaggers” and “Jack Killed Mom,” much of Rabbit Fur Coat’s intimacy has been traded for pure sonic intensity. However, Lewis’ refusal to repeat what made Coat such a success renders Acid Tonguean equally idiosyncratic and distinct record in its own right. The album is boastful, vulnerable and witty, usually within the course of a single song. It may be a bad man’s world, but a bad girl’s record makes it that much more tolerable.
64 1,1506 August, 2018
On her first solo outing, Jenny Lewis writes directly about the twisted fairytale of her childhood, and takes a levelheaded look at the complications of love.
The haunting title track of Rabbit Fur Coat is a mostly autobiographical rags-to-riches-to-rags-again fusion of fact, fiction and fantasy sung to a nursery-rhyme melody in waltz-time. Told in a style akin to magic realism, it's the story of a woman whose mother is waitressing and on welfare until her daughter becomes "a hundred-thousand-dollar kid", only to end up back on welfare, "still putting that stuff up [her] nose".
The already tumultuous terrain of relationships becomes even more fraught when your lover is also your bandmate, as was once the case with Jenny and Rilo Kiley co-founder Blake Sennett. The messiness of romantic entanglements surfaces on the achingly catchy "You Are What You Love," when Lewis sings: "Every morning upon waking / To you I’m a symbol or a monument / Your rite of passage to fulfillment / But I’m not yours for the taking". Or, from "Melt Your Heart": "When you're kissing someone who's too much like you / It's like kissing on a mirror".
A gifted lyricist, Jenny Lewis is also a very fine singer, landing on each note with just the right touch. She can belt it out with a soulful, Neko Case-like clarion call ("Big Guns"), put on a Lucinda Williams drawl ("Rise up with Fists!"), or purr like Margot Timmins ("Happy"). The musical stylings of all of these talented ladies echo throughout the accompaniment on Rabbit Fur Coat, but Lewis takes these elements back to their roots. Without copping a retro sound, Jenny has tapped into a fifty-year-old Americana, finding that sweet spot at the birth of rock ‘n’ roll when folk, country, gospel and vocal pop were all melding together, but before the increasingly heavy backbeat of rock displaced the lilting shuffle of Sun Studios-era rockabilly.
The former frontwoman has expertly crafted a record, which allows Lewis her own distinct sound. The indie darling stepped into her own with Rabbit Fur Coat, and the album more than a decade on is still a compelling, complex and captivating achievement.
You can always count on @countrythundersk for a wild weekend! As I kick off festival season I, along with my partners at @caasask , would like to remind everyone about the importance of finding a safe ride home. Many of these wonderful events come with the option to camp onsite or offer complimentary shuttle services - why not take advantage of these luxuries? Keep the good times going and stay safe, Saskatchewan!
1 27642 minutes ago
ya girl is playing at the Listening Room tonight at 6pm central with @songsuffragettes ***to watch, tune into the live stream on their youtube channel :)
17 7717 hours ago
Frozen moments in time ⌛️ where you see the beauty of your choices. 🕰🛤 I’m grateful everyday to do what I love the most for a living. ❤️🎸
My job is timeless and I’m constantly amazed to where it can take me. 🛣 Never forget to enjoy the process. 😆
📸: @mr.crispin_ Last year playing in NY
Miss playing with my buddy @jands1 🥁