Between my costumes and your heirlooms All I’ve exhumed and your short fuse It takes two to Dance between the lines
“Venus with a vengeance” Lorelei Rose Taylor releases a magnificent EP, Versailles. The gorgeous, lush vocals of the Brooklyn songstress effervescently float between baroque rock, 90s alternative, and ethereal dream pop. Drawing inspiration from fellow chanteuses Jewel, Sinéad O’ Connor, and Florence and the Machine, Versailles is raw emotion buttered up with pure storytelling and rich vox.
The title track, Versailles, unfurls dark drama in a familiar landmark. ‘Versailles’ embodies a sort of cosmic dance between two people very much in love, but very toxic for each other – and everyone around them. The Palace of Versailles was a landmark in a near decade-long relationship for me, one which became a symbolic memory – a beautiful place to visit, but we couldn’t live there,” shares Taylor.
Versailles became the third demo Lorelei Rose Taylor ever recorded. After an initial spark of inspiration in the NYC subway, the single came together when Taylor joined forces with punk musician Robbie Grabowski (I Can See Mountains, Super American) on piano. The two took their time sculpting the song before presenting it to producer Stephen Kellner.
“I think it’s my favorite song,” says Taylor. “And I always stop myself before I say that, feeling guilty for loving one child more than the others. I guess I felt especially vulnerable when I wrote this; I let myself run back and forth through my emotions unhinged. I was livid and sad and proud and helpless all at the same time – but somehow, my tone is indifferent. There was a moment where I turned to the guys like, “Do I sound bored?” But I realized I was just exhausted. Exhausted and defeated – and I didn’t want to pretend I felt any other way.”
Photo: Bonnie Nichoalds
Another standout track on the album is When You’re Gone, an atmospheric, melancholy number that feels right at home in a David Lynch production. It is a highly emotional piece with gentle nods to doo-wop and uncannily evoking the mournful cries of the Cranberries’ Dolores O’Riordan.
The Texas-born songwriter grew up in upstate New York and penned her first song at just 11 years old. The precocious youngster took it upon herself to label her keyboard keys with marker and to emulate Jewel on acoustic guitar, sparking a lifelong passion for songwriting. In 2012 Taylor moved to NYC to attend college at FIT. From there, she pursued an Art History degree in Florence. By 2017 Taylor was back in Gotham, ready to write more music.
Reflecting back on the creation of the album, Taylor says: “Château de Versailles is home to one of the most electric eras of my life. For so long, everything was decadent – full of love and lust and excess. And then it wasn’t. The EP is about the party being over and the gardens being overgrown. It’s about returning to Versailles with the only set of keys and realizing the locks were changed – sure, I could break in, but would it still feel like home?”
Lesley Barth has often wrestled with a sense of feeling like an outsider in her own life. The questions arising around the key to happiness; a sense of identity that deems outside validation unnecessary; the corporate grind. What is it all for, in the end? Barth’s hunger for a meaningful, mindful existence has resulted in her stellar sophomore album, Big Time Baby, all with a feminine 70s-pop sheen reminiscent of Jenny Lewis. Drawing frequent comparisons to songwriting greats such as Joni Mitchell, Carole King, and Fleetwood Mac, with a commanding and singular voice reminiscent of Natalie Merchant, Barth shapes these influences into a mixture of confessional songwriting, poetry, and wry observations about human nature. Big Time Baby is an album about feeling isolated, wearing masks, failing, rebuilding yourself, questioning societal norms, and the quicksand that is our modern non-stop notifications, performance-driven, social-media-optimized life.
“I learned that you can’t perform your life and live your life at the same time,” says Barth. “There are moments where performing is what’s required. But if we don’t take the mask off from time to time and connect to who we really are, I can tell you from experience that one day you will wake up and not recognize who you are and the life you’ve built for yourself. I hope this album gives people hope that, no matter how uncomfortable or out of place they feel in their life, they can change it by finding the courage to take off the mask and really get to know who they are underneath.”
Photo: Harish Pathak
Barth paired her artistry with Philadelphia producer Joe Michelini (American Trappist, River City Extension). The resulting three singles, all tinged with that 70s songwriter groove, speak to various stages of the process of redefining her life. Woman Looking Back at Me, a disco-flavored tune, seeks to understand negative self-talk and distance Barth from the critical voice in her head. The neon-cowboy-hued Nashville tries to understand better the internal demons that keep us away from the lives we want, and the catchy and empowering You Gotta Hand it to the Man is an indictment of the ubiquity of a patriarchal society and capitalism gone awry, with accompanying video criticizing the precariousness of the American health care system: “Almost all the savings I had for quitting my job got wiped away by healthcare costs, and I had to scramble.”
Lower East Side sees Barth immediately admitting to failure and a sense of unreadiness for the journey ahead.
“Making this album has been a rejection of the concept of ‘big time’ and ‘small time;’ living for other people’s validation is what got me into the whole mess of a life that felt foreign to me, so I wanted this album to be a declaration of who I am,” says Barth. She penned the album as her life became uprooted, and recorded it as she navigated the uncertainty of the structure of the gig economy.
“It’s an album for these uncertain times where many people feel their lives have been stripped to the bone, they’ve woken up from a daydream, and they weren’t sure what tomorrow would bring because that’s where I felt I was when I wrote it,” says Barth.
In the summer of 2019, a new supergroup emerged from the streets of Brooklyn, comprised of LG Galleon (Dead Leaf Echo) on vocals and guitar, Gregg Giuffré (drums) Max Idas on Bass (Lulls), Dominic Turi (Squad Car) on guitar, and Lyla Vander (Ice Balloons, Habibi) on keys. Although they are a relatively new outfit, they have already shared the stage with bands like Honduras, Big Bliss, Slowness, and The Prids.
Clone was all set to embark upon their first tour across the US before the COVID-19 outbreak, including a couple of performances slated for SXSW, but at the eleventh hour, the band was unfortunately forced to cancel all travel plans. It was a massive disappointment for the group, but they remain optimistic.
“Clone are evocative, in ethos and ambition alone, of a time when bands still could change lives,” says Galleon. “They also believe in the galvanizing, redemptive power of music, the kind which used to be written for the lonely and the scarred and the diffident, before something truly was lost, something deeply enmeshed within the human psyche that could be shared. Clone are fitfully reclaiming this, which at its crux, is the imagination of youth. It’s captured vividly here, and their private universe of sonic exploration is now open to all.”
The band is releasing a new track called New Romance, and, according to Galleon, “it’s a damn auspicious opening volley.” The single’s sound captures the nascent verve of Warsaw, (precursor to Joy Division), especially in the icy timbre of the slashing guitar figures.
Idas’s eminently melodic, racing basslines, reminiscent of Peter Hook’s, also recall the daydream haze of The Cure circa Pornography, and lock in effortlessly with Vander’s metronomic, economical drumming. Galleon’s vocals round out the sound, as he urges with an unrepentant rage, “Tell me a story about how you’ll bore me.”
In this song, the protagonist is assuming a woman’s perspective, but his mind is androgynous, for these feelings are universal. Confusion and anger are at the fore, but they’re a device used to convey the difficulties of finding any true human connectedness, which is appropriate, given the deterioration of communication in our increasingly anomic culture.
Photo: Alice Teeple
Photo: Alice Teeple
The b-side to the single, Boris the Cobbler, treads similar ground covered on New Romance. The band has an EP in the works for 2020, which they’re recording with Arjun Argerwala (James Iha, Adam Franklin).
They’re complete, in their purpose and in bond, and believe in themselves. Drift in with them, as the ride has only just begun.
Clone is offering wonderful merch on their home page, including vinyl and shirts (DM them for your size). All money goes directly toward supporting the band.
Swedish artist STRØM has released a new single called Mermaid through This Is Scandinavia/Sony Music. His forthcoming debut album, Immortal, is due out 21 February 2020.
Mermaid is a haunting, melancholy tune, permeated with rich layered vocal production and whispering siren calls. It is a page taken straight from timeless tomes of seafarers and myth. STRØM takes inspiration in “the reading of ancient tales and timeless prose that showcase the mystical notion that, in story, immortality can at last be attained.” STRØM has elements similar to Miike Snow and Sigur Rós, but sparser in instrumentation, with a stronger focus on atmospheric vocals.
Photo: Oscar Olsson
STRØM began experimenting with musical instruments during his childhood in Värmdö (an island off the coast of Stockholm), cultivating his love for music as a teenager, and taking those passions to Berlin to study music production and sound design. After his 2017 release Mesmerize, which he composed for a BMW commercial, he found acclaim from music critics and shot to #1 on Hype Machine.
Mermaid follows first album single, Last Try, which saw a release last month and set the tone for a highly-anticipated debut release. Last Try has seen widespread love from the likes of The Line of Best Fit, HillyDilly, and Variance Magazine. The song also hit #1 on Hype Machine and saw playlisting on Spotify’s ‘New Music Friday.’
This is the first material STRØM has released since his astonishing debut. It is the perfect midwinter track. Sip on a flagon of mead; dream of ocean adventures. But watch out for those mermaids.
On New Year’s Day, the Los Angeles musician trumpeted a public call for creative reformation:
You’re a creator? Awesome. Create. This idea that you’re supposed to be a living, breathing “brand” is gross and someday it’s gonna look really dated. Whether you paint, write, sing, or complain, own that it’s an extension of your soul, not “content” that you excrete on a daily basis like a robot. Can we please make 2020 the year that branding dies?
Photo: Alice Teeple
Photo: Alice Teeple
Photo: Alice Teeple
Hank Fontaine is a powder keg in an industry bursting with soul peddlers thirsty for fame and power. He refuses to be contained. He is content to stay honest to himself, his whims and his art. Conformity does not interest him in the least. Fontaine is a restless soul forever on the prowl for inspiration, both a citizen and student of the world. Ten years of touring as a guitarist; a lifetime of transience. For the time being, he’s existing in Los Angeles, eschewing that plastic Stepford Wife nonsense.
Living in the City of Angels has only deepened his determination to bring authenticity to his craft, encouraging others to follow suit. He walks the walk. After four years as half of sibling duo The Fontaines, touring with Dylan Gardner and Valley Queen, and resetting his path with a couple of singles, Fontaine released his first solo album in 2019: The Globalist Agenda or: Welcome To Frogtown. It is an eclectic tour de force.
Fontaine’s sound is impossible to pigeonhole, and he likes it that way. There are some echoes of retro influence, particularly in Fontaine’s guitar licks, but his lyrics are firmly rooted in the 21st century experience. He effortlessly weaves elements of Harry Nilsson, early Billy Joel, Supertramp, and Electric Light Orchestra in his sound, through the filters of English music hall, New Wave, and breezy California surf rock. Although Fontaine is primarily known for his guitar chops, he is a powerful and emotive vocalist who croons, growls, whispers and fearlessly falsettos.
Photo: Alice Teeple
Hank Fontaine’s strength lies in his curious voyeurism and refusal to mould himself to a false concept. He takes that kid-in-a-candy-store approach to sound, reminiscent of Odelay-era Beck. His self-penned Spotify bio cheekily mocks the industry push to brand musicians, which he sees as a limiting force on creativity. Not a single song on this album sounds like any other, but all work together in a sonic crazy quilt as varied as the people who influenced them. The Globalist Agenda was inspired by people Fontaine met while living in the Frogtown neighborhood of Los Angeles.
“I like to pretend to be other people when I’m writing. I think that’s gonna get me in trouble someday,” he quips.
Fontaine’s love of Seinfeld shines through in his observational lyrics: always wryly wondering, “what’s up with that?” This is best exemplified in his debut single, Bad Love, which sounds like a powerful breakup ballad, but was in fact about a time he got cut off in a Trader Joe’s parking lot. “I asked, what happened to this person to make them like this?” Fontaine explains. The ethereal, forlorn Hope Don’t Leave Me Now was inspired by a compulsive lottery ticket gamber at his local 7/11.
The album was a collaboration with his friend and producer Jason DeMayo. The pair recorded all the instruments together, one at a time.
“It was a very freeing way to work that I never tried before,” says Fontaine.
Photo: Alice Teeple
Photo: Alice Teeple
Fontaine headlined the Troubadour in LA to celebrate the release of The Globalist Agenda, and then took off the rest of 2019 to focus on writing. He’s in NYC for a few months doing an artist residency, working on a new EP of songs he wrote in his hometown of Paris.
Keep your eyes and ears on this one in 2020. Hank Fontaine is just getting started.
You can purchase The Globalist Agenda Or: Welcome To Frogtown here:
Christine Smith takes a drag from her well-deserved cigarette outside the Bowery Electric. She’s just wrapped a spectacular solo performance for her sophomore album release, Meet Me On The Far Side Of A Star. It’s fitting this album made its debut in the intimate Map Room: its twinkling, celestial backdrop placing Smith in a sort of netherworld somewhere between Weimar Berlin and Major Tom’s shuttle.
“Oh dear! Looks like I’m molting,” she chuckles, as several wisps of black marabou feathers float from her dress to the sidewalk. She stamps out her smoke, signs a CD for a fan, and warmly greets old friends who came to see the songstress on her former stomping grounds.
The Bowery is foggy, with a damp chill in the air: the kind of weather that reluctantly welcomes nostalgia and melancholy. This night, Smith served as the ferrywoman, steering the boat with electric piano keys and a small red Spanish accordion, through an emotive display of loss, longing, and regret. Christine Smith treads the line between days gone by and harsh modernity. She ruefully gazes back at the storms of the past with wry observation, hard-fought wisdom, and persistent optimism. She is a seasoned warrior armed with wit, poetic dreams and a delicious glass of red to calm those tides.
Smith’s seen her fair share of touring and recording over the last twenty years, having played with Crash Test Dummies, Jesse Malin, and Ryan Adams; as well as sharing the stage with Bruce Springsteen, Pogues frontman Shane MacGowan, Lenny Kaye of the Patti Smith Group, and H.R. of Bad Brains.
With such a punk/rock background, it’s astonishing to hear Smith’s own gentle, conversational voice and classic piano plucked straight out of a 1930s cabaret. It turns out that during her early days living as an ex-pat in London, Smith supported herself playing jazz standards. From there she served as the musical director for Newsrevue (London’s longest-running satire show).
There are strong elements of the Great American Songbook in this album, but Smith proudly wears her other influences on her sleeve – echoes of Petula Clark here, some Patti Smith there, some Simon LeBon flair, sprinkled with a bit of Angelo Badalamenti and 1950s doo-wop. She is a shining result of her eclectic tastes and influences. Her autobiography will be one hell of an incredible read one day.
Meet Me On The Far Side Of A Star began as a collaboration with Texas singer-songwriter Victor Camozzi, who shared Smith’s passion for 1930s-40s American classics. A year and some massive life shifts later, Smith’s “achingly beautiful” masterpiece was finished. Meet Me On The Far Side Of A Star is an artistic triumph. Rolling Stone recently praised her track Happily Never After (featuring Tommy Stinson of the Replacements) as a top ten Country/Americana song of 2019. One hopes that Christine Smith keeps exploring her own voice and draws more from her deep well of experience and compassion.
