The Lost Ronin Files Pt 1: Bathsalt Beats

Here's another one to be filed under "the best of intentions."

Started in December, this piece was never finished due to the usual circumstances that leave one whinging for time one day and energy the next. In fact, it's likely I never would have finished it at all if not for the annual shitshow that is the Grammy's. Admittedly, it's a strange thing to take note of as my relationship to mainstream music has been on an increasingly elliptical orbit for some time now. I close in on commercial radio for a peek only to veer further away than before. If nothing else, the Grammy's serve to remind that there are no awards for my music.

It's odd, however, expressing any emotion regarding the Grammy's at all. Paying attention to them is, for me, a lot like paying attention to the sexual adventures and conquests of an ex-girlfriend I never really connected with to begin with. Unless there's comically abject humiliation taking place, do I really care?

That being said, here are my final thoughts on 2012. As a leap/election years go, it didn't disappoint for disappointing moments.

In fact, looking back, there were very few moments when 2012 didn't feel like a Mad Max Zombified redux of "We Didn't Start the Fire." There were face eating bath salt attacks, Chik-Fil-A outrage, faux Chik-Fil-A outrage, the monolithic Walking Dead, numerous tragic public shootings, the most Wrestlemania-like re-election I've seen in some time, numerous apocalyptic proclamations of what would follow said election, Mayan hysteria and Gangnam Style. It's enough have one passing bullets with biscuits every time someone coughs at the family dinner table.

On the other hand, I got married and that was awesome.

Speaking of Psy's "Gangnam Style," I'm not gonna lie: I too enjoyed the hell out of it. The video was a perfect storm of awkward and funny and repeated viewings did little to dim the fun. But it took off a little too much and, as a result, I heard it a little too often. So I'm not putting it on 2012's Bitchin' Mixtape. The same goes for Gotye's "Somebody That I Used to Know." There is no way that song was ever designed to be a pop crossover hit. Still, consider how many people heard it for the first time on the Voice. Kudos to Gotye keeping it weird and succeeding anyways. Besides, a little weirdness keeps it fecund, y'know?

That being said, mainstream radio was not a place of great excitement or enthusiasm this year. First, there was a distinct lack of ruckus brought on by dudes with guitars. Sure, your favorite classic rockers did their best to represent (I know a lot of you dig the Springsteen) but this is an aging class. Look no further than the anniversary of Rage Against the Machine's debut album as indictment. Still, it wasn't all sour as the Afghan Whigs finally reunited and made my inner 17 year old squee with angsty glee.

Ladies, on the other hand, you were marvelous. From hip-hop to the coffee shop and all spaces in between, the ladies brought the heat this last year. Whether it was M.I.A.'s SuperBowl finger or Lana Del Rey's national humiliation on SNL, at least it was interesting.

Hip-hop also seemed to thrive this year as El-P (with or without Killer Mike), Danny Brown, Kreayshawn, Asap Rocky, 2 Chainz and Die Antwoord all seemed to take root in the dark corners of public consciousness. The dissolution of Das Racist felt like a strange culmination to this new hip hop culture that has taken root outside of the current superstar establishment of the Dre's and the Ye's.

The dark cloud hovering over this was the loss of Adam Yauch to cancer. The Beastie Boys, moreso than almost any group from the 90's, embodied everything that was great about "alternative" music as hip-hop collided with punk rock collided with activism. I may not have been a Beasties die-hard but it was hard not to feel overwhelmed by the loss. It was a sad but inevitable milestone for alt music even if we can take solace in the legacy Yauch left behind. It's hard to imagine groups like Matt and Kim or Sleigh Bells without that hip-hop influence.

Ultimately, there's not a lot more I can say about 2012. It was a year fraught with apocalyptic tension on pre-millenial levels and the music reflected that. There was little comfort or safety to be found in this year's music and, quite frankly, I'm okay with that. I am, after all, from the 90's.

Or, as the late Bill Hicks once said, "Play from your fucking heart."

While this may look a lot like New Year's resolutions, I prefer to think of it as making decisions to end aberrant behaviors on my own part and for my best interest a manifesto. And instead of keeping it to myself like any human being with anything close to resembling a shred of dignity, I find it's usually best to shame myself into action by way of public accountability. And nothing works for self laceration quite like public forums. So, if any of these thoughts help you,... well then, god speed and all that.

1. Stop Living in My Head So Damn Much. I spend a lot of time thinking. About everything. About what I want to do and about how to do it. This includes stories, projects and things around the house that I perpetually put off. I mean really, how many times can one person consider all of the angles? So, enough with the thinking. Time to trust my own judgement and get to more doing. As such...

2.Work Harder. Stop grousing and just do what you're supposed to do already. You could've finished your workout in the time it took you to figure out the eleven billionty reasons you don't want to do it (but will anyway). And this goes further than "don't procrastinate." Whatever you do, do it as hard as you can. Push yourself to do more in less time and hopefully, you'll get to the point where you can do it faster. That's logical, right?

3. Work Passionately. If you're doing what you love, then it seems a lot less like work and a lot more like, well, just being. It's a trueism, I know, and I tend to abhor trueisms, but this one is pretty simple.

4. Obey the First Rule of Time Management: Which is: don't waste your fucking time. Usually, I use this in regards to lost causes that we fool ourselves into believing will work if only we had a little more willpower. White knuckle hope and belief is nice but nothing beats actual work... But I digress. This also applies to "how much E! network do you really need to watch?"

5. Admit It, You're an Animal. And that's okay, but animals weren't built for cubicles. So take that big astronaut brain of yours that's trapped in that caveman's body and run it for a few miles. Or do some push ups. Running has turned into my new drink too much and look at the stars experience, which is great for (yeah, I know what I said earlier) thinking.

6. But You're an Animal of Class and Taste. I'm going to try reading more this year. And when I say read, I mean read more books that aren't graphic novels. A hundred pages a week isn't great but it's better than what I've been doing (i.e. reading twenty pages and then "ooh. Look. Something shiny!).

7. Catch Your Stories While They're There. Usually, I mean this in regards to writing down stray ideas and the truly freaky dreams. But I lost my grandmother this last year, and unless I sit down and pry the stories out of my grandfather in the here and now, we'll lose a love story that spanned continents, cultures and decades. Stories are everywhere. You just gotta catch 'em while you can.

A Lot of Things Have Changed, A Lot of Things Have Not

In our collective rush to welcome in the New Year, I see a lot of you quoting Neil Gaiman. And why not? He's upbeat, inspirational and eloquent. But I'm gonna mix it up by sharing some Mos Def with you. Even though this was the opening to his solo debut in '99, the words "a lot of things have changed, a lot of things have not" have resonated for me in perpetuity ever since. It was certainly the only thing resonating in my head this morning.

And don't get hung up on the words hip-hop- this is applicable advice to all paths of life.

From "Fear Not of Man" on Black on Both Sides:

A lot of things going on, y'all- twentyfirst century is coming, twentieth century almost done. A lot of things have changed, a lot of things have not.

Mainly us. We gonna get it together, right? I believe that.

Listen, people be asking me all the time, "Yo Mos, whatever's gonna happen with hip-hop?" I tell 'em, "You know what's gonna happen with hip-hop? Whatever's happening with us. If we smoked out, hip-hop is gonna be smoked out. If we doing alright, hip-hop is gonna be doing alright."

People talk about hip-hop like it's some giant living in the hillside coming down to visit the townspeople. We are hip-hop. Me, you, everybody- we are hip-hop. So hip-hop is going where we going. So the next time you ask yourself where hip-hop is going, ask yourself "Where am I going? How am I doing?"

And you get a clear idea.

So, if hip-hop is about the people and hip-hop won't get better until the people get better, then how do people get better? Well, from my understanding, people get better when they start to understand that they are valuable. And they not valuable because they got a whole lotta money or because somebody think they sexy, but they valuable because they been created by God and God makes you valuable. Whether or not you recognize that value is one thing.

Ten$ion: Is It Real or Is It Die Antwoord?

Initially, listeners were introduced to Die Antwoord with the viral explosion of their 2010 video "Enter the Ninja." The clip veered wildly from wide-eyed aww-shucks bravado to guileless obscenity as lead rapper Ninja seemed both amazed by and stridently convinced of his imminent fame. "This is like, the coolest song I've ever heard in my whole life," he (self-)proclaimed in the song long before anyone else would validate that opinion and yet, he was confident he'd be "all up on the interwebs." Apparently, this was the South African equivalent of keeping it real. Assuming, of course, that you've based your entire identity on stale American hip-hop cliches and lost half of it in translation.

Ultimately, though, the video delivered a lot more than the obvious laughs at Ninja's clueless bluster. In fact, his spot-on pastiche of American gangsterism failed to conceal a gift for deft lyrical dexterity. As evidenced by his rhymework in "Enter the Ninja" and its subsequent album, $0$, there was an obvious talent and ambition at work here. So much so that the cartoonishly excessive nature of Die Antwoord has been repeatedly called into question on the grounds of authenticity. What initially seemed like a joke has blossomed into cult obsession as listeners try to decipher the true nature of the group: is Die Antwoord an elaborate con job or are they South Africa's hip-hop idiot savants?

Inevitably, that persistent scrutiny colored expectations for their latest album, Tension. Would Die Antwoord come out swinging in the hopes of asserting some hardcore credibility? Or would they stand revealed as an hiphop internet fluke? Either way, the pressure was on to replicate their initial success. Luckily for fans, Ten$ion brings us a Die Antwoord that spends less time on the offensive in exchange for just being offensive, grossly cocksure and stupidly aggressive. Which is just to say, really, that Die Antwoord is back with more songs.

It didn't hurt the band's reputation that the last thing they did before releasing the album was alienate their label. Early buzz pointed to creative frictions between the band and Interscope, with the final result being a parting of ways. And while Die Antwoord use the album to take their requisite shots at the label, numerous fans point to the video for "Fok Julle Naaiers" as a breaking point. In particular, they single out it's gay-baiting addendum ("DJ Hi-Tek Rulez") in which DJ Hi-Tek sets a new benchmark for homophobic rants in little more than a minute and a half.

Or does he?

Like everything else the group does (mostly just by existing), bystanders were left to wonder- is this shit for real? And even though Die Antwoord are no strangers to courting controversy (see $0$'s "Evil Boy" video for just one example), this went far beyond their usual brand of crass vulgarity. As such, it should surprise no one that the band anticipated the ruckus they were bringing. Pre-emptively, Ninja filmed a quick defense to accompany the video's release.

"For those of you who don't know, DJ Hi-Tek is gay." He shrugged his shoulders. " So there you go." Ninja quickly brushed this "fact" aside, opting instead to take Americans to task for their all too enthusiastic tendencies towards political correctness and the fearful power that imbues words with.

Lost amidst all this noise, however, was the unprecedented act of hiphop history taking place. The real story here was not Die Antwoord's politically incorrect litany of words, nor was it the recasting of DJ Hi-Tek as the homosexual aggressor of all homophobes nightmares. The real news here was not even the outing of DJ Hi-Tek as a homosexual in hip-hop. The real story, the one that everyone overlooked, was that anyone in hip hop willingly came out as homosexual.*

Again, though, the smoke and mirrors that seem to surround Die Antwoord prevail.

The veracity of DJ Hi-Tek's true identity has always been sketchy at best. On record, his voice has never been presented unaltered and visual appearances have been inconsistent with numerous faces being attributed to the name. Listeners could be forgiven for wondering if the DJ even exists, much less if his outing is just another hiphop experiment taking place in Ninja's mad basement.

Regardless of intent, however, the episode revealed a lot more than DJ Hi-Tek's sexual orientation. First, it betrayed a sense of self-awareness that runs much deeper than Die Antwoord's gonzo gangster horndog image allows for. Moreso, it highlighted the conflict at the heart of their commercial existence: Are These Guys for Real?

Die Antwoord has been plagued by questions of authenticity simply because they are so painstakingly spot on in their pastiche of Amercian Youth Gangsterism. Their moves seem far too calculated, their sound is far too commercial and their rhymes are far too capably executed for them to truly be the simple minded lunkhead collective they portray themselves as. They seem neither stupid nor naive enough to actually be as they portray themselves. Which indicates either they've gone native on what was intended as an art project or they've been scamming us wholesale the whole time.

Ten$ion fits nicely into their agenda, whatever it may actually be, by letting the freak flag fly as high as possible. One need look no further than the recent video for "Fatty Boom Boom" as proof. The clip is a parodical view of South Africa, a cheap shot at Lady Gaga and a pisstake of our first world preconceptions. And then there's Yolandi Visser in black face. Filmed in the Hype Williams style via fellow South African maverick Neill Blomkamp, it quickly turns into an explosion of color and is one of the most visually arresting pieces to come out all year. But if American artists were to attempt this, effigies would be burned, boycotts would be enacted. For Die Antwoord, it's simply another day of jumping the shark.

The lunacy of such viral antics have, for the most part, been embraced by their audience and, as of late, come to be expected. Establishing such a crazed identity online would threaten to overwhelm the actual work of most artists, especially in a market experiencing freefall as badly as the recording industry. Instead, it's allowed Die Antwoord to flourish as they fly under the radar of expectation. Critically speaking, they've slipped in like (dare I say it) a ninja.

Looking back at their debut album, $0$, it's obvious now that controversy was just the sizzle of the steak. The album turned out to be an oddly addictive piece of genuinely weird but delicious hip-hop. Additionally, their production values always skewed closer to the populism of club music rather than anything produced by the pantheon of Dre, RZA, Kanye or Timbaland. Ten$ion retains those tendencies, whether it's the opening dubstep of "Never Le Nkemise 1" or the accelerating bridge of "I Fink Yu Freeky."

Further into the album, though, something interesting happens: mainstream American sounds start to creep in. Ninja goes so far as to spell it out when he harkens back to that "feel good gangsta shit" on "So What." What follows is Dre by numbers with a simple but effective piano loop. "Hey Sexy" recalls the Indian spice of Timbaland at the peak of his freak producto powers. No worries, however, Die Antwoord is not selling out. Their madcap gonzo style is still on full display, whether it's the rich bitch theatrics of "Baby's On Fire" or the crudely offensive "U Make a Ninja Wanna Fuck."

Even Die Antwoord's blatant mysogeny is called into question as Yolandi Visser's presence here presents the group as a legitimate triple threat. For all of Ninja's lyrical dexterity, Yolandi answers in kind: she's a spitfire on helium, just as prone to shooting out aggressive rapidfire rhymes as she is to singing the hooks. Trading verses with Ninja in "Fatty Boom Boom," she threatens to "kick you in the teeth, hit you on the head with the mic" and you can't help but feel that she might.

Running roughshod rhymes over each other with bragadocious flare and aggressive charm, Die Antwoord finally reveal themselves for what they truly are: audio graffiti. Like real graffiti, one does not need to understand it to "get" it- one needs only to see it. Bearing witness is the only true validation any art ever gets and to probe deeper only invites madness, or worse, pretense (exhibit A: see the size of this post). For now, bearing witness may be the only sense we'll ever get to make of Die Antwoord.


*yes, i know that frank ocean came out earlier this year. but, truth be known, the bulk of this was written before that. real life obligations put this on the shelf for the better part of this year, so we'll just pretend that i finished it much much earlier. as fer frank, his coming out genuinely suprised me and bully on him for at least sparking conversation.

Give You the Ghost by Polica

In a year flavored predominantly by hip hop weirdos, female singer songwriters and artists who encompass elements of both, Minneapolis' Polica arrived to spike the punch with ingredients more potent than sweet but subtle enough to pique the listener's attention. Give You the Ghost, possibly the most aptly titled album of the year, resembles more a stir of echoes than a debut album. It's a haunted house of ethereal melodies, a ghostship on ambient seas. It's a sonic salvia, if you will, that connects listeners to some unreachable, great beyond where we dream and where we die.

Chances are, you won't hear a thing this year that's half as mesmerizing.

Musically, the band's sound is an exercise in deceptive simplicity. It markedly lacks the guitar histrionics of typical rock music, opting instead for endless waves of gentle keyboard sounds. Aided and abetted by the dextrous basslines of Chris Bierden, Polica's musical aesthetic is, in all actuality, a polyrhythmic attack powered by the dual drumkits of Ben Ivascu and Drew Christopherson. The end result, executed with easeful finesse, forms an hypnotically effective springboard for the vocal theatrics and effects of singer Channy Leaneagh.

Leaneagh's captivating vocal performance, with all due respect to the rest of the band, is worth the price of admission alone. And while the vocals are autotuned for artistic effect, the grasp of her voice far surpasses the crass reach of a million mediocre hip hop songs. Instantly, it is clear that this is not the autotune Jay-Z was griping about.

Give You the Ghost, however, works as more than an aesthetic allusion to the band's sound. It points in a metaphorical yet very direct way towards the emotional content of the record. No matter how otherworldly the vocals sound, Leaneagh's lyrical concerns betray a woman touched by very real and very human anxieties. Themes of dissolution, confusion, abandonment and discovery abound here. There are numerous contemplations centered on the dutiful and whistful themes of mothers and daughters. There are pointed lingerings on matrimony, tinged with pragmatic sadness at one turn and liberated elation at others.

Leaneagh is a revelation in progress as she sorts through the sadness, longing and fear of her life. The record, functioning much like Hephaestus' forge, breaks down the raw elements of her anxieties and hopes as she is melted into new and more resilient shapes. With every passing track, she emereges more fully realized as both a person and an artist. And while it would be easy for Leanagh to coast on the vast sonic ocean that her band creates around her, make no mistake, her emotionally charged melodies are the turbulence of the tides. The undertow here is a purely vocal one that sucks the listener in and pulls them along for the ride.

Packed with potent melodies and expansive sonic soundscapes, Give You the Ghost brings a currency to the year that has been in suprisingly short supply: beauty. Haunting, emotive, whistful beauty. Fans of Massive Attack, Tricky, Bjork and Portishead should (especially) welcome the album as a throwback to a time when the words trip and hop were used together and without irony. That's right teenyboppers, sad bastard electronic music is back.

tracklist
Amongster
I See My Mother
Violent Games
Dark Star
Form
The Maker
Lay Your Cards Out
Fist, Teeth, Money
Happy Be Fine
Wandering Star
Leading to Death

Track by track, this was probably the record I listened to the most this year. It's stunning in all the best ways that a debut album should be but certain songs inevitably haunt more than others.

"Lay Your Cards Out," "Wandering Star" and "Leading to Death" all exude the perfect mix of Polica- beautiful but defiant in the face of heartbreak. But when Leanaegh sings "I need some time to think about my life without you" in "Happy Be Fine," it's enough to give one fits.

Radio Free Pennington 2012

Nestled somewhere between the last few scraps of Halloween booty and the ever increasing ads for Black Friday, there's a dark nagging feeling. That's right, the year will be over soon and all the things we're supposed to do will quickly fade into the things we forgot only to be washed, rinsed and repeated.

About this time last year, I did my year in review with bullet reviews. Designed as a mental exercise, I wanted to see what happened when I limited myself to smaller word counts. This year, I'm going to try working with larger pieces with an eye toward more expressiveness and larger themes to the music I've spent this year listening to.

We'll see how it goes.

In any event, happy holidays to those of you tuned in, tuning in or just stumbling in by accident.

First up, Give You the Ghost by Polica. I was kidnapped for my bachelor party earlier this year and spent the whole car ride up to Denver announcing that this was the only band I wanted to see this year, chance permitting. Like an asshole, I didn't realize their tour ended in Denver and tickets were mere seats away from me. Thanks, guys.

just another apocalyptic love song

this picture was a wedding present from future collaborator tj.

our upcoming project is one i have mentioned before that involves space pirates, space zombies, space pirate zombies, quantum suicide, the kuiper belt and two girls named mary jane and molly. all things being what they are, in my head it still works out as a love story so big we have to destroy and rebuild the universe to do it properly. or, as ed harcourt might put it, it's "an apocalyptic love song."

when i asked tj if there was anything he wanted to draw, he replied with "smoke and explosions." ...well, jeepers, if you gotta twist my arm.

it's currently scribbled into all my various notebooks as revolver but i think i'm going to save that title for a different project. other possibilities include the space john b soars again, the final ballad of mary jane and molly and the infinite problems with zip.

...i'm certain something better will pop up.

return of the ronin

yes. i've been away. adventures were had. whiskey was drunk.

and like many adventurers, i return with an asian wifey in tow.
words will be posted soon. in the meantime, i hang my head in shame as this place has gone to the cats. and who knows what kitteh haz been downloading...

Digby- International Man of Mystery

I understand that I've been away for a while now. All apologies and respect due, I've undertaken an immense project in the personal arena of my life. It's put a lot of my other priorities back just a bit but, ultimately, it should prove to be hugely gratifying. I may write about it later. I may not. If I don't, I don't think anyone will suffer for it.

In the meantime, I want to spend a moment discussing one of my favorite people: Digby Wolfe. Digby was a co-creator for Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In. He once opened for the Beatles as a standup comic. He wrote for everyone from Bill Cosby to Bob Hope. He had a tense standoff with a well meaning redneck in Texas at the height of the Vietnam War. He was also a professor for many years at UNM. As such, for the better part of eight years, off and on, he was my mentor.

Digby passed away in the last few months. I'm only now at the point where I can be coherent about the joy he brought to my life (and many, many others).

I'm not sure that it's fair to blame Digby for the writer that I turned out to be. But he certainly taught me just about everything I needed to know about crafting stories. The few (and I mean feeewwww) things he didn't teach me, he certainly put me on the road to discovery. The first day of the last course I ever took with him, he asked me to open up shop by sharing a few words about writing with my new classmates. It was the kindest of gestures and to this day, still means the world to me. I covered a few of these points but, really, this is what I wish I had said.

1.Keep a notebook/pen with you or be prepared to dictate/type thoughts and ideas to your phone. Lightning in a bottle is lightning in a bottle. You catch it when its there or regret it later.

2.Be open to inspiration. It’s everywhere. That older couple passive aggressively arguing in the cereal aisle at the grocery store? They were young once and made decisions that brought them to this point and who knows, their story now may be more interesting.

3.Write everyday. Treat your brain like a muscle. It needs the discipline and responds well to routine. One hour is a nice round number, but treat that as a minimum. Even if you're just sitting there staring at a blank screen, you still put the time in.

4.Don’t suffer in silence. When you’re stuck, it helps to talk it out with others- even to just blow off steam. As such, workshops and roundtables are golden opportunities. Never take that for granted.

5.The difference between comedy and tragedy is the speed at which you tell the story. Nothing is sacred. Additionally, there is no such thing as victimless comedy. Somebody always has to pay. If there’s no victim there’s probably no funny.




Thanks a million, Diggers. You were a true original.

Clear Heart Full Eyes by Craig Finn

When Craig Finn sings "I suppose you thought I'd be gushing blood" in "No Future," I have a small confession to make: yes, the thought had occurred to me. As the singer/lyricist for the Hold Steady, Finn's had the better part of five albums to perfect his vision of the car wrecks, brain injuries and hot messes that litter post Meth Lab America. That vision, fueled by beer and punk, has always sounded like an epic Steinbeckian narrative that just happens to touch down on the Replacements as often as Springsteen. Here, that epic boozy swagger has been slowed down and, as a result, the songs probably share more with Neil Young and his Stray Gators (see Harvest and it's sequel Harvest Moon).

Slowing the beat down does little to diminish the potency of Finn's self destructive protagonists, though. Instead, there is an innate sadness on display here and it betrays what would almost surely be the heart of a joke in the blustery hands of the Hold Steady. By allowing the comedic to fester into the tragic, Finn has effectively portrayed his characters as "rotten and bruised- the soft part of the fruit."

And what sad, bittersweet fruit it is. "Apollo Bay" opens the album with a Harvest era Neil Young flavor. Lurking beneath that country melancholia, however, is a menacing and paranoid guitar solo stolen straight from Young's other gig, Crazy Horse. It's almost as though Finn is getting his Neil Young's mixed here and it's a compelling listen. Played with a steely reserve before unleashing all manners of hell, the solo commandeers the song away from Finn's lyrical subtexts.

The subtext being, of course, the implications and innuendos that hide beneath Finn's usual lyrical motif: religion. While he's never had a particularly reverent take on the subject, he's never wielded it like an axe to grind either. Instead, he's used it as an observational litmus for the obsessed, the depressed and the desparate. Drawing a fine line between the righteous and the wicked, he uses religious fervor to coax equal amounts of horror and humour from occupants on both sides. Whether it's the pseudo-pious fake of "When No One's Watching" or the newly rehabbed head case with his "New Friend Jesus," it's obvious that any religious undertones here have little to do with being religious. More than anything, these are full blown addicts who have moved on to the opiate of the masses.

Finn has stated in interviews that Clear Heart Full Eyes was simply an excercise in songwriting for him, a project designed to hone his skills and contributions to his regular gig. That shouldn't imply, though, that there aren't thrills to be had here. Certainly, there's a dark paranoia that courses through songs like "Apollo Bay" and "Western Pier." Additionally, "Not Much Left of Us" may be one of the prettiest songs that Finn has written. But songs like "Jackson" and "Terrified Eyes" could easily be punched up into boozy Hold Steady regulars if you replaced their sad sack country tinges with rifftastic guitar heroics. None moreso than "Honolulu Blues," however, in which an epic bender is set to a blustery and bluesy barroom swagger with enough sardonic glee for a Cohen brothers movie. It's the good ol' Hold Steady fun you'd expect from Finn. More than that, however, it brings his split lip songwriting to the fore- you're never quite sure what's happened except for the stories and except for the bloodstains.



essential listening
Apollo Bay
Terrified Eyes
Honolulu Blues