New York-based (by way of Boston) indie pop quartet Via Audio are distinguished by rich harmonies and a willingness to experiment with a variety of textures and rhythms. The kind of band, in other words, that doesn’t start to wear out their welcome over the course of a full album.
There are lots of better-known acts of whom the same cannot be said.
Rustic English acid folk from the time when that country was getting in touch with its indigenous music with the help of Martin Carthy, Richard Thompson, Ashley Hutchings and the like. In the too-brief first incarnation of this band, they recorded in an open field due to an aversion to recording studios. The album cover photo depicts the house where the band and their families all stayed during the time of its recording. Idyllic.
Today Heron are a footnote. Their first two albums are rare, precious and beautiful.
The Kooks aren’t trying to shake up the world with their infectious, Kinks-inflected garage-y power pop. They just want to make you happy. I think they’ll probably do that about three minutes here.
Music is life. Or a reasonable facsimile thereof. It’s like a tinted piece of glass we look through to see the reality of our lives more colorfully, more richly.
We need a wide variety of music to accompany the diversity of our life experiences, and to complement all of our many moods. This is something I’ve repeated so often that I sound like a corrupted digital music file (another good metaphor sacrificed to modern technology…) And in fact I have trust issues when it comes to people who like only one type of music; they’re usually less in touch with themselves.
When my ears still ring with Saturday night’s thumpa-thumpa I usually want Sunday morning to sound like a soft sigh. Something acoustic, something organic makes for the ideal aural/attitudinal palate cleanser.
For a period of several weeks as a teenager, my Sunday morning routine began with side two of Tir Na Nog’s Strong in the Sun LP (see link below, and in particular the song “In the Morning”). The previous week washed away and I gathered myself for the one upcoming. There was an ebb and flow to my week, and to my year. And music marked every swelling and falling, and the passing of every season–literal or emotional. Because music is life.
I recommend Tir Na Nog to anyone who likes Nick Drake.
Viento de los Andes is effectively Jose Arciniegas, who plays indigenous music of Ecuador and the Andes regions (as well as original compositions) on bamboo flutes and harrangos, a small guitar-like instrument.
As his website puts it:
Jose began to play music at the age of ten. He sang played quitar, quena and sampona and serenaded the girls outside their windows with love songs.
In America most girls would rather be serenaded by a Chris Brown song, but it’s their loss.
Ambrosia Parsley has the perfect name and bio for a fictitious singer–but only in one of those fanciful, Benny & Joon-type Hollywood films. The details seem too strange for real life.
According to Allmusic Guide:
Parsley’s first gig was singing with a 99-piece senior citizen banjo band at a local pizza place. At the age of 13, she left home, traveling the country and pursuing her love of music.
And from her Wiki bio:
In April 2004, Ambrosia Parsley embarked on a project for the liberal radio station Air America called Ambrosia Sings the News — a short song (always the same melody), usually under a minute or so long that attempted to encapsulate the contents of the previous week’s headlines. Approximately 47-50 installments of “Ambrosia Sings the News” were aired with some being live performances. The show was successful enough that a single titled “2004 (The Year In Review…For Anyone Who Can Bear the Mere Thought)” that summarized exactly what the title suggests was sold exclusively via iTunes.
The band name “Shivaree” is a Cajun term describing a drunken serenade to newlyweds (think Bert and Ernie in It’s a Wonderful Life). “Goodnight Moon” is probably their best-known song, having appeared on Dawson’s Creek and in the films Silver Linings Playbook and Kill Bill: Volume 2, where it played over the closing credits.