Tag Archives: Americana

04.12.21
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Aidan & The Wild – Running

I’m an occasional runner. Many moons ago, I’d take it quite seriously and have a record of plodding around a variety of half-marathon courses. Work colleagues who know me now still look at me incredulously when I mention that I once even ran a full marathon. It’s not something that I could do now. 

In fact, back last year in the midst of the first lockdown, I decided to take it all up again. I went online and bought some kit with which I could run around the park that’s opposite. I had the ‘From Couch to 5k’ app on my phone and some whizzy songs designed to make the experience forgettable that I’d listen to if it got too much. I knew it would be tough but I had no idea it would be that tough. Gasping for air, unable to catch my breath for hours after each run, I simply couldn’t get through what was being asked of me from week one of the app. I’m not proud to say that I gave up. My new running shoes (that weren’t a great fit for my heavy stomp) sit relatively pristine in the hallway. I keep threatening myself that I ought to pick it up again now. I doubt I ever will.

Diederik van den Brandt is the man behind Aidan & The Wild. The musician from Eindhoven felt a similar desire to me during the initial lockdown. His running career appears to have become more of a routine though, albeit slight. “I actually overdid the running in the first two weeks and had to tone it down because of an ache in my joints.”, says Diederik when we exchange e mails. “Since then it’s been a very periodical thing!”

But Diederik was able to write a pretty neat song about the experience. Warming us up with a gentle folk stroll, it’s not long before we’re striding along in time with the Americana influences. Diederik’s ‘disarmingly honest’ breathy vocal sits on top of it all to form a perfect work-out. “This song has become a description of that first run after six years of no real exercise, and the rapidly changing world that forced this event.“, says Diederik by way of summary.

Commentating about the state of the world is something that’s clearly important for Aidan & The Wild. Diederik has followed up on the release of ‘Running’ with a second single from the forthcoming album,’Revelation Never Came’. In ‘It’s Alright’, we find Diederik in cautionary mode, describing a world that is clearly anything but OK. It’s a track that has the same Americana wallow of ‘Running’ and yet one that further cements Aidan & The Wild as ones to keep an eye on. 

I’ll have to catch them first. Now, where are those trainers? 

 

01.28.21
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Aaron Nathans & Michael G. Ronstadt – Ghost Writer

I’ve been challenging myself to publish a new blog post every day. There’s a lot of good new music about and I’m keen to give it a platform. But, it’s also been good for me to get into a routine of writing daily. Having some sort of structure to focus upon clearly helps my sanity in these insane times.

Those days when I would be staring at a blank page seem increasingly distant. I’m now in the flow and with that comes a confidence of putting any order of words down onto paper with the knowledge that they will ultimately make sense to some. That’s not to say that I’ve been any less stringent about the quality I want to achieve in the words I publish; more that by practice, this routine is getting easier. 

Just as I wouldn’t expect to be able to run a half marathon with no training, neither should I expect the words to flow if I don’t limber up first.

The character in ‘Ghost Writer’, the opening track on Aaron Nathans and Michael G. Ronstadt’s 2020 album, Shadow Of The Cyclone, is experiencing a pretty severe case of writers block. They sit at the vintage typewriter hoping that the words will come but the brain is largely drawing blanks. And the ghost writer’s lot is compounded by the fact that they know that, when the words do come, none of them will be credited directly to them. Their existence is anonymous, so much so that they’re ignored by locals as they grumpily take a stroll down the high street. This is not a happy character sketch.

The sad lyrical tone is supplemented by Nathans and Ronstadt’s delivery. Michael, nephew of Linda, plays a haunting cello line whilst Aaron’s baritone voice and guitar pluck add to the overall eeriness. This is Americana at its best; maudlin and considered, desolate and with an absence of hope. You can’t help but feel for the ghost writer by the time the song draws to a close. 

Maybe he should start to write a daily music blog? That might help to lift his spirits. I promise happier pop tomorrow. 

 

12.19.20
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Lori Triplett – Coming Home Alone

Christmas songs – I’ve never been much of a fan and I guess that’s why they have hardly ever featured on Sonic Breakfast. Many of the most popular are forced-fun frenzies; I can think of nothing worse than it being Christmas every day if I’m honest if it means warbling with Mariah. 

It probably says much about the person I am but I’m much more drawn to the sad Christmas song. Characters who were lonely last Christmas seem somehow more attached to the reality of life than those who are ringing bells as they dance around the mistletoe. This feeling is amplified in 2020 when the prevalence of the disease means the sensible thing to do is to cancel it all until next year. Bah Humbug. 

Lori Triplett agrees with me about sad Christmas songs. “I’ve always loved them”, she says before acknowledging that 2020 was exactly the right sort of year to be releasing ‘Coming Home Alone’. The Country-based singer-songwriter breaks all of our hearts with her tender tale about a relationship going pear-shaped just in advance of the big day. The excitement of taking your significant other home to meet your family and friends melts as the friendship fades. 

Lori has the perfect vocal delivery for this sort of desolation. She never once over-eggs the sadness; it’s raw and simple, painful and clear. For those of us who have had sad Christmases (all of us?), this is all too easy to relate to. When the strings kick in, I want to weep for Lori’s plight. 

Happy Christmas beautiful people. 

 

12.11.20
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Pluto & Charon – Sick As A Dog

There are probably very few bands that are formed in breakfast restaurants. Sonic Breakfast would be keen to hear about any of them. It sort of makes sense to feature those bands given the name of the blog.

In a series of posts that might stretch to one in number, today we put forward a track from the emerging, folksy-Americana outfit, Pluto & Charon. The Los Angeles based act, led by songwriter Matthew Hough, all met out of West Hollywood’s Griddle Cafe, a place where Matthew worked the early shift. From there, he engaged with customers and friends of co-workers to get the band together. What a glorious sound they now make. 

They’ve recently released their debut album, ‘Point Nemo’, a labour of love over the last three years. Matthew says about the release that “For better or worse, I have put most of what my heart has been able to muster for the last 3 years into “Point Nemo!” I want people to be reminded that life is abundant and inherently meaningful, and that the ride is much more enjoyable if we’re able to love each other just a little bit more than we do.”

You can’t say fairer than that. It’s that positive spirit and faultless work-ethic that comes to the fore when talking with the band. I ask them how things had been going since launching the album in lockdown. “Overall it’s just been a blast though to start sharing these tunes that have been cooking for the better part of 3 years! Now with everything still locked down pretty tight, it seems like a pretty good time to keep recording and putting out more work!“, they offer back.

The video for Sick As A Dog, the recent single release, finds Pluto & Charon in their own homemade Western movie. It’s an entertaining piece of film like something you might recall from an episode of The Monkees. From what I can tell it has little to do with the lyric of the song though that’s hardly an issue when such fun was clearly had in the making. 

“Sick As a Dog was written at the state of infatuation, where it gets confused with love. Most of the song was written before even going out on a first date with this particular person, and the song was finished after that first date. A few months down the line things had come to an end, “, says Matthew about the song.

There’s probably a whole separate blogpost that could stir about the song’s meaning but that’s not for today – today is all about bands formed in breakfast restaurants. 

01.21.20
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Sonic Breakfast Top Ten 2019 – Number One – Bjørn Tomren – The Betsey Trotwood

Take out the slight blips and 2019 was a great year for Sonic Breakfast. This top ten rundown has enabled me to reflect on some of the many highlights. But ten is a pretty arbitrary number and it does mean that no space in this list has been found for some storming memories; LIFE at Marathon Kebabs (here), my early evening at the Institut Francais (here), Spearmint and Piney Gir at Water Rats (here) and Louis Brennan at the Pensioner (here) being just a sample. 

I’ve hinted at it elsewhere in the countdown but 2019 was my Norway year. Aided by great releases and invites from Georgie at Propeller Records, I’ve been able to scratch the surface of a rich musical scene. There is no genre that defines the country. But, like cuckoos, the Norwegians are nesting in other homes, putting their own unique slant on the tried and tested to come up with something new. 

Number one (fanfares all around) in the Sonic Breakfast chart of 2019 goes to the ace Bjørn Tomren and his short, showcase set at the Betsey Trotwood back in the Spring (here). Was this the best gig I went to over the course of the year? Probably not! But it whetted my appetite for an artist who had a neat spin on gloomy Americana. Like Kurt Wagner from Lambchop, Bjørn’s voice deeply swayed over picked guitar as stories of frustrating times on the road were relayed. 

His album, Bad Science Fiction, came out in October and it really is a record to cherish. Dripping with melancholic delivery, it’s icy Americana, one for wintry nights around a log fire or for long drives over freezing plains with your in-vehicle heating turned up to eleven. It dabbles in folk and jazz flourish before returning to its alt-country core. A true slow burn of an album, you could see the quality of the songs emerge during the Betsey Trotwood showcase. 

A truly deserving number one. 

 

11.15.19
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Dark Tea and Roscoe Roscoe – Shacklewell Arms – November 12th 2019

I’m in a new zone one property guardianship, an old, disused Natwest bank building that’s a stones throw from Angel Islington underground. It’s only been two weeks since I left the last one but it’s felt longer. Being without roots and living out of a suitcase in AirBNB’s is both exciting and exhausting. Having a bit more permanence, albeit with fewer rights of tenure than if I were renting, allows me the chance to think, to take stock and to get a bit comfortable. I stay in for a couple of nights getting my room to a level that can be lived in before the draw of the free London gig scene again entices me out.

It’s seriously so well connected here. I walk out of my front door to bus-stops galore. Different routes will take me to all of my favourite venues on these chilly, dark nights when walking and exploring is less of an option. 

I arrive at the Shacklewell Arms just in time to see Roscoe Roscoe. They’re a five piece who indulge in dreamy and woozy shoegaze-filled psychedelics. Their frontman, complete with a moptop that marks him out as true indie, flits between falsetto and a deeper singing style whilst the others in the band give the impression that this is little more than a prog-jam. They all know how to play but could now maybe look like they’re enjoying themselves more. A Mum of the band (years of gig going has got me well-skilled at spotting them) sings along with every note and dances wildly in the otherwise static and earnest crowd. Roscoe Roscoe’s overall impact is positive. Ultimately there’s something of interest happening here and I’d happily watch them again.

Dark Tea is the current musical vehicle of Gary Canino, a resident of Brooklyn, New York. His latest album, named after the band, is well worth listening to if skewed stoner Americana is your thing. Sitting somewhere between Wilco, Bright Eyes and Jeffrey Lewis on the music mind-map, Dark Tea are also a five piece tonight. It’s none too clear if this is a permanent arrangement (one of the guitar slots is taken by the orange jumper wielding guitarist from Roscoe Roscoe) or a temporary bulking of the sound. What is true is that the full band oozes with a shambolic shuffle that’s kind of endearing. Camino, sporting a Norwegian ice hockey jacket, sings with a muffled casualness; the lyrical quality slightly obscured by the deliberate half-effort. Dark Tea’s main guitarist shuts his eyes and looks towards heaven in an euphoric state as a ‘down to love’ mantra spins out. It’s over quickly. I must have been enjoying myself.

In between bands and after the sets have finished, the iconic Lawrence (from Felt, Denim and Go-kart Mozart) chooses some wayward tunes for our aural education. Bonus for sure. 

That’s what happens in London. It’s difficult to stay in.

10.29.19
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Ralph Pelleymounter and Charlotte Carpenter – The MOTH club – October 20th 2019

I have to move out of my property guardianship this week. I’m sad although I can’t pretend that I didn’t know the risks. In exchange for cheap rents and communal living in London’s zone one, you learn to put up with the uncertain length of stay, the chance that you might be turfed out with a months notice. I have somewhere else to go but it’s not yet ready. 

That’s why Sunday was largely spent emptying my room of big and bulky items, transporting them to storage for temporary safe-keeping. It looks like I’ll be back in AirBNB’s for a while.

After a day of such heavy lifting, I was glad to have an evening gig to go to. I’ve mentioned once or twice on these pages before but Hackney’s MOTH club really is the bees knees – and the chance to see Ralph Pelleymounter, frontman from To Kill A King, is too good an opportunity to turn down.

It’s not as if I’m a To Kill A King fan though. They’re one of those many bands that exist on the periphery of my vision. I think I’ve seen them before at festivals and been vaguely impressed by their twisted alignment to your standard Mumford and Sons fare. That’s probably harsh. Ralph’s fan base gathered here would certainly think so. They know his material, love his beard and sing along to all of the words. “The most under-rated songwriter operating in British music at the moment”, says one fan to me in a moments break from the music. 

We’ve already been treated to a set from Charlotte Carpenter. In all my years living in Leicester and writing about music there, it’s inconceivable to imagine that our paths have not crossed before. I’ve seen Charlotte’s name on bills up at the Cookie and The Musician and must have missed her by minutes. But no bells are rung when she takes to the stage solo. She’s a talent with a rich, sweet voice and a bluesy Americana about her storytelling. She’s bereft at the loss of her Nan and has songs about the long drive through Germany on hearing of her passing. ‘Follow You Down’ adds to the overall cathartic experience. Later, Charlotte joins Ralph on stage to offer select backing vocals. She sings Ralph’s praises. He’s a fine man to tour with by all accounts.

 

And it is hard not to warm to Ralph. He’s got a full band on stage with him tonight’s final gig of this tour. The rest of the tour has been more acoustic and solo. Perhaps this is why tonight’s stronger numbers are the slower, more stripped-back offerings. They’ve had more time to settle over the past month as the tour progresses. 

  As Ralph observes early on, these are songs about anxiety and feeling powerless. There are waltzes about heartbreak and soulful Americana offerings about loving somebody most when hungover, tunes about being with a desperately drunken lover. Ralph introduces latest single, AWOL, by saying it’s about liking your partner but finding people in your workplace frustrating. Lots of Amens are said in response by the Sunday evening crowd. 

Ultimately, it’s a pretty uplifting experience. ‘Get Drunk, Get High’ is saved until the end of the set. It strikes me that this could be the best funeral song ever. I probably need to cheer up a bit for work tomorrow and worry less about domestic situations over which I have no control. 

10.09.19
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Jade Jackson & Laky – The Old Blue Last – October 1st 2019

Will this guy ever shut up? A super-stalker of a fan has placed himself at the front of Old Blue Last’s stage and is using every opportunity, every break between songs, to tell Jade Jackson, the emerging Californian Americana star, that he loves her. He probably doesn’t realise quite how disruptive his over-the-top obsession is and mostly Jade is able to steer the attention away from him and back towards her. “Oh, you can play every song of mine on guitar can you?“, Jade observes. “Good to know should I get tired.”

I go to a lot of gigs at the Old Blue Last and it’s fair to say that I’ve never seen the average gig-goer so advanced in age. Perhaps that’s a direct consequence of the music on offer; the timeless bar-room spit of cool Country is never going to seem relevant to the grime-fuelled  popsters who  typically frequent this place. And they’re missing out. 

Laky, support for the evening, is probably the youngest in here. She takes to the stage armed just with an acoustic guitar. The beanie she wears gives her folk credibility; her confident chat and well-composed songs the air of a protest singer who’s not quite settled upon a cause. The heckler at the front auditions for the main event by also directing far too much between-song adulation towards Laky. She’s clearly not quite sure how to deal with such unrequited love and so offers up a bit of Country. “Whoops, Americana I mean”, she says, correcting herself quickly.

When Jade Jackson last visited London, she gigged at The Slaughtered Lamb. Jade’s proud that she’s now playing a larger venue and few would bet against that ascendancy continuing when she returns again – for tonight Jade’s composed, languid songwriting really does entice those watching. When it’s good, this is a very special talent indeed. 

Jade reveals that she almost chose never to play set highlight, Tonight, live. Initially cautious of baring too much, this autobiographical maelstrom is a hard-hitting exercise in cathartic release. “Tonight I’m confused but that don’t take away my right to refuse”, Jade sings, whilst retelling an all-too-familiar tale of predatory behaviour. 

Jade’s band of Devin, Tyler and Julian, seriously talented sessioners, back her to the hilt. They can all play but Julian on guitar particularly stands out. Here’s a man who can make his instrument sing and is given plenty of opportunity to do so with solos a feature of most tunes. 

“Give this man a microphone”, says Jade before launching into a cover of Elvis’ ‘Burning Love’. Most of the crowd are in no doubt though – they want more of the act on stage and no encore from the talkative twat. 

 

03.20.19
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Louis Brennan – The Greenwich Pensioner – 18th March 2019

I am drunk. On a Monday night. This is evidently not a good thing. Even if I make excuses in my own head and try to justify it all by saying it’s just my St. Patrick’s Day one day late this is far from convincing. 

I have an excuse of sorts; it’s another gig in this fair city and a new venue for Sonic Breakfast. The Greenwich Pensioner, out Poplar way, has had a makeover. Energetic new owners have lined up a tasty range of beer, a fine pizza menu and a set of live gigs that are not to be sniffed at. “I’m just booking things that I hear and like“, says the Northern proprietor. “We’ve not even got a PA. I don’t know what one is“, she adds, in a refreshingly honest moment.

You suspect though that these are people of good taste. And they’ve struck lucky with their first booking, Louis Brennan, even if the crowds aren’t exactly flocking in to support. Louis has been featured on Sonic Breakfast before (here). He’s got the quality to be playing venues much bigger and the select few know they’re getting a treat.

“I hope everybody likes depressing music“, he says by way of opening banter. A table of beer-swillers having a few post-work pints show their opposition by raising the level of their conversation. Louis wears them down by attrition and a few songs in, they leave. 

His voice, baritone gold, is one to get lost in. Sat on a bar-stool in the corner of this square and open room, Louis picks away on his guitar playing new songs and old songs. It really is all sorts of lovely. Ideas flow from lyrics with such speed that it’s sometimes not possible to keep up with this master poet-raconteur. It’s like discovering that Leonard Cohen is alive and well and playing a secret show at your much loved local.

Louis declares that he was going to play three half-hour sets but will now settle for two 45 minute halves. “It’s like a paper round where you’re diligently delivering the free papers rather than throwing them in the hedge“, he suggests whilst stoically working through his set-list and wondering if anybody actually cares.

But we do. This is a night of unplugged joy, a Monday night delight for the discerning. As Louis draws things to a close, a local group of Kendo enthusiasts come into the pub in an altogether surreal quadrupling of the punters present. Their menacing looking swords are sheathed but Louis doesn’t risk alienating them by playing on.

Beer is drunk. The wonderful Wild Brew beer at 6.6% is not one for a Monday night session. But it’s too tasty to not test. Taxis are booked. This hangover will hurt at work tomorrow. 

10.09.18
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Dusty Stray – Estranged

One of the delightful and yet unintended consequences of maintaining Sonic Breakfast for four years now (on and off admittedly) has been the occasional, ongoing contact that’s developed with a pretty wide array of musicians from around the globe. 

Two and a half years on from writing not one but two short blog posts about Dusty Stray (here and here), I receive an E-mail from Jonathan, the man behind Dusty Stray. He tells me that the new record, Estranged, is to be released imminently (on October 12th in fact). We exchange E-mails. Jonathan is now back in Amsterdam after a couple of years in Colorado and I’m now here in Spain. It’s a sort of refreshing proof that our lives haven’t stagnated. 

Jonathan sends me a private link to ‘Estranged’ and I sit down to listen (with headphones).

In my humble opinion, more people should throw themselves into the work of Dusty Stray. And perhaps for a newcomer, Estranged is as good a place as any to start. It’s an album that’s both beautiful and sad. We watch through a window as Jonathan writes about relationships that are almost done – but not quite. We listen as his voice grieves over the potential loss; a range of instruments creating a sort of ‘folk-noir’ soundtrack that simply accentuate the mood. 

“The cracks and the stains have been covered, all of the locks have been changed, broken windows boarded up, and we’ve become estranged.” That’s what Jonathan sings on ‘Houses’, one of the album’s many stand-out tracks. You feel the sadness and the honesty in the story-telling. A perky solo does its best to lift the misery but any respite is temporary. 

Not that it’s an album so desolate that there’s no cause for optimism. In ‘Things Will Look Different’, the romance refreshes before the lap steel and harmonica herald further disappointment. “In the morning, you were gone”, sings Jonathan with tumbling heart. ‘After The Play’, a romantic interlude, places our protagonists in a theatre and there’s flirting-a-plenty going on as tears are shed over the actions on the stage.

“The title of the new album comes from the general out-of-place feeling I had returning to the US after living so long in Europe,” says Jonathan about Estranged. And you realise that there are different ways to read the album’s grief. On a literal level, it’s about that always-odd time when a relationship might have ended but you’re not quite sure. From a wider perspective, this is an album about falling out of love with a country that you now feel estranged from. 

In a world of Brexit and Trump it’s easy to see why this might resonate.