The Unusual, Day 2: Devendra Banhart

I've taken a shine to five musicians recently, in last week's effort to seek out the Dr. Pepper of music, as I like to call it: The Unusual. I'd found myself in a rut of listening to the same-old same-old and my ears needed a jolt. I searched out music I've never heard, and music I never gave a chance, and the five performers highlighted this week stuck out like sore thumbs to soothe my bored ears. Today: Devendra Banhardt!

When I have nightmares in which I'm pursued by knife-weilding pscychos, those psychos look like Devendra Banhart. When I have nightmares about being held captive by a bunch of stoned hippie flower-children, they talk like Devendra Banhart. The rest of my nightmares look like the album covers of Devandra Banhart.

Several years ago, after ordering an Iron & Wine album off of Amazon.com, the website's recommendations started pointing me towards Banhart. And his outward appearances found him a little to eccentric initially.

As I was making a mix I noticed Cripple Crow sitting in iTunes, ignored since I first put it there, because if the covers freaked me out, what would the music do? But after listening just once to the title track, I was completely hooked. I still can't quite figure out what makes this guy tick, but I shouldn't have judged this odd book by it's even odder cover.

Banhart, and much of the other nu-folk artists, somehow appeals to the music my mother raised me on (Joan Baez, Peter Paul and Mary and a bunch of other fairly accessible 50's and 60's folk performers) and the avant music of my college days.

Despite what his initial pscyho-killer appearance, I find his voice and his sound entirely accessible. It's the kind of music, despite its eccentricity, that I'd play for my parents if they came over for dinner. Lyrically... well, I've stated once already this week that lyrics aren't really my thing. I enjoy memorizing the words and singing along, but it takes careful sitting down and reading to understand, and Banhart's would take a little analysis.

Devendra Banhart - Queen Bee
Buy Cripple Crow at eMusic

Editors note... the giant thing on the Cripple Crow cover art looks like a Skeksi

The Unusual, Day 1: Joanna Newsom

I've taken a shine to five musicians recently, in last week's effort to seek out the Dr. Pepper of music, as I like to call it: The Unusual. I'd found myself in a rut of listening to the same-old same-old and my ears needed a jolt. So I ran out seeking some music to appeal to my wee ears. I searched out music I've never heard, and music I never gave a chance, and the five performers highlighted this week stuck out like sore thumbs to soothe my bored ears. Today, Joanna Newsome!

Megan and I listen to music in very different ways. When I say, "good god, listen to that little pulse of percussion," Megan says, "What the hell are you talking about?? Listen to those horns!" When I describe a song based on the instrumentation and textures, she has no idea what I'm talking about. When she talks about a song in terms of lyrics, I have no idea what she's talking about. In one instance, we both told each other about our favorite song off a particular album, not realizing we were both talking about the same song.

But the strongest of our differences. When I play Tom Waits, Antony and the Johnsons or anyone else who's voice falls of the scale of what one normally expects from someone with a record deal, Megan generally just doesn't want to hear it. Add to that list Joanna Newsom.

Joanna Newsom, living proof that a few more gelflings survived than we originally believed, has a squeaky voice that lies somewhere ten miles east of Nina Simone and Antony. Her first album, Milk-Eyed Mender rubbed me somewhat the wrong way. Her voice pierces and burns over the delicate steps of her harp fingering, and I wondered why such a good songwriter wouldn't pull in a softer, more palpable singer to take on these tunes. So my initial reaction to her first album was to ignore it.

Then this album hits and the critics go abso-freaking-lutely wild. A quick jaunt over to MetaCritic shows Newsom ranking well among online and magazine critics ('cept for Rolling Stone... but who cares about them?) So I decide to give the gal another chance, to discover, as I did with many another artist, that my first impressions were wrong.

Ys, recorded with string arrangments by Van Dyke Parks (he wrote most of the lyrics for some album of mild significance) completely kicks my ass. I've got the bruises to prove it!

Unlike her first album, Newsom's voice does not pierce and burn, but nestles easily between the Parks' string arrangements and Newsom's own harp. The lyrics are acute faery tales which present a simple story to begin with, but, I predict, are far more complicated than the coniving schemes of a wayward monkey as featured in "Monkey and Bear." (Like I said, lyrics really aren't as much my thing).

For an album this dense and abstract, it's a wonder I'd take a shine to it so quickly, but I've been in love with this music since the first pluck and bow of the strings of the opening track.

Joanna Newsom - Emily
Buy Ys at eMusic

Brian Wilson Doll

Pitchfork always helps us remember where we should draw the line. A Brian Wilson doll is where my line sits.

I tend to go on fandome kicks. Elliott Smith, Miles Davis, Brian Wilson and Andrew Bird have all had peaks in my obsessiveness to the point of irritating those around me, but I have yet to purchase an action figure, such as the one pictured above and discussed in this pitchfork article. It's these things that remind me to ease up on the obsessiveness, and feel a little better knowing that there are those out there (300 of them in this case) who would blow their money on such a product.

A little amusement for you on post election day/day of rumsfeld's much awaited resignation. Next week I'm going to do a series of posts I'd like to call "The Unusual" in my attempt to find some new music to whet my audio appetite... Who knows... I may even post about Masonna... but my ear isn't so neglected that it's turned to noise yet...