Tag Archives: Folk

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. 

12.09.20
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Lisa Akuah – Dancing Trees

The wind rustles through the palm fronds. It’s been stormy for 24 hours now. When you’re as far out in the country as I am, you don’t get woken by the comfortable sound of traffic buzz or urban spaces coming to life; here, you hear the swirling wind making sounds like a trombone player warming up at the orchestra or a ghost that’s about to haunt. I’m used to it now but for the novice I’m sure it’s eerie. 

Such days and nights are fortunately few and far between. I’m reliably informed that by Friday the weather will again be unseasonably balmy. This makes me glad. I can relax if I look forward.

 

For Lisa Akuah, the experience of ‘Dancing Trees’ is an altogether more positive one. But she has picked her moment well. She spreads a blanket underneath the tree in her local Berlin park one late summer afternoon, lies down and allows her mind to wander. In the shade but still feeling the warmth of the sun, she watches the intricate patterns made between leaf, bough and branch. From that, she finds herself going into a daze, hypnotised by the colours and shapes and perfectly content with her lot.

The psychedelic, folk track that is ‘Dancing Trees’ is born. It’s a gentle tune that slowly works its way into your core. If it doesn’t hook you immediately, give it another spin to let it work its magic. I’m sure it will given time.

I’m sure we can all relate. And for many of us, the thought of lying on a warm rug right now looking up at swaying leaves must feel like pure escapism. The chance of being able to lose yourself in the moment and to concentrate on the small things of nature must seem quite remote as our worlds progress at insane speed. 

Escapism, nostalgia and an appreciation of the minutiae – three solid Sonic Breakfast ‘themes’ for a Wednesday morn. 

12.07.20
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Phoebe Coco – White Horse

My Grandad, George, had a lifelong love of horses. Progressing from stable lad to the head of those stables, he cared diligently for all of the horses that came under his watch. I often wish that I had the same skills and attributes  – and yet the sad truth is that I’ve never once ridden a horse. As the years advance, I guess that this is something I might never do. 

Back at the start of the year, I joined an extras agency. I thought it would be something interesting to do and I was put forward for a couple of ‘roles’ before Covid and lockdown blew things off course. One of the roles that I could have landed was as a stablehand. I guess my facial hair and ruddy complexion was what the production was looking for; they checked that I wouldn’t mind combing the horse after being trained. “Of course not”, I thought. “I’ll channel the influence of Grandad George and mask the fact that I’m a novice and a bit fearful of equine things.”

Phoebe Coco clearly doesn’t share such fear; you get a sense that horses are pretty important in her life. She’s called her debut album ‘My White Horse & I’ and recently released a single ‘White Horse’ from that album. It’s a folk-pop gem and a love song to her horse, Blue, a giant Irish cob that she’s now been riding for two years around the streets and paths of North London. Phoebe’s dreamy vocal canters along before being complemented by ethereal harmonies from her twin sisters, Grace and Dorothy. A wonderful family affair, White Horse trots along with a carefree, magical energy.

I ask Phoebe how Covid has impacted upon the album release and she acknowledges that it has made things a bit staggered. ” It felt like the right time still to put it out there, and I’ll probably do a launch gig in Jan .. although I am doing some things before that aka a live stream from the stables “‘, she offers by way of enticement.

Phoebe’s a free spirit. She thinks nothing of riding horses in the wild forests of Provence or singing into sleepless sunrises on London’s streets after nights dancing, She’s offered up a well-turned out gem here and encouraged me to add another activity to my bucket list. 

All cool for a Monday.

12.03.20
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Abby K – All Good

I don’t talk much about my day job within this blog. It’s pretty much been an unwritten rule since beginning Sonic Breakfast that I would rope off some aspects of my life and rarely discuss them. I’m not sure why it’s developed that way.

For those that don’t know, I work for a charity that distributes funds to youth homelessness projects. I work as part of a team that’s helping to create new homes for young people who don’t have that security. Get beyond the day to day routine, rigmarole and frustrations that are part of anybody’s working life and it’s a pretty rewarding place to be.

But, I still walk past people sleeping rough (or did before 2020) and barely bat an eye. If challenged my well-rehearsed lines still stand up to my own scrutiny. “It’s better to give my money elsewhere“, I say before spending it that evening in the pub. “You’re not really getting to the root cause of the problem“, I say before spending the day talking with friends about the latest exit on I’m A Celebrity. “I need the food myself“, I say before putting nothing in the food-bank collections and going home to write a blogpost about my expanding waistline.

Despite thinking that I care about others and actively do good when I really think about it what do I really do? My emotions are hardened, my tears trained not to fall and my life, as a result, is all good.

This is the situation that Abby K describes in her latest song and video, All Good. Released in the build up to the US election, it served as a call for Americans to vote for change. Asked specifically about this track, Abby says, “the idea that we are privileged and turn away from the ugly truths of our world is a powerful notion. Something’s got to change or something’s going to give! When tears refuse to stream the way they should, I guess that means, life’s all good? It’s time to MAKE things all good.”

A gentle country-folk song for a Thursday, Abby’s delivery has none of the rage that you might traditionally expect from a protest song. Like a calm and collected schoolteacher taking an assembly, the singer-songwriter carouses and encourages us with her unique voice into looking at the world differently. 

The cynic in me finds this so easy to dismiss as idealistic, hippie twaddle. Maybe, thinking about why I have that response and taking a good look at what I’ll be doing to make things better today is the more appropriate way forward.

11.24.20
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Jonathan Levy – Lover Boy

I’m still in Spain. I wasn’t really planning to spend this long over here when I left Blighty back in July. But the virus is raging and I’m now not there for Autumn back home. I have no qualms about missing the most miserable of seasons. Waking every day to bright blue skies here more than makes up for that disappointment.

That’s not to say that it’s all sunshine and laughter over here. There’s a new chill in the air that gets positively biting at night. With no central heating and porous walls, this villa feels the cold more than your standard terrace back in the UK. Tonight, I loaded the fire with wood from the garden and kept myself warm by prodding and poking away at the twigs as the flames flew up the flue. 

Fireside joy (and it is captivating to watch the flames tell their tales as they create their crackles) needs a solid sort of music; for me, you can’t beat a strong dose of acoustic folk when the orange hue is raging. The lyric has to be right; you don’t want a morose, break-up tune or, god forbid, a murder ballad right now. Such songs are better suited to the gently glowing, dying embers at the aftermath. This moment calls for declarations of love that has lasted the distance.

And that’s what you get in Lover Boy from Jonathan Levy. Our hair might be falling out or changing colour and our bodies have most definitely gained a few pounds but we’ve got each other as a constant. This is a tune about stability, about growing old gracefully and fanning the flames of love. 

Jonathan delivers the acoustic ballad (that builds with cinematic flourish) impeccably. Think of the Beatles at their most romantic crossed with Elvis Costello minus the gravelly voice and insane wordplay and you might be in Jonathan’s ballpark. His vocal goes semi-falsetto during the sweet chorus – there’s more than a tinge of Ben Folds in the tone though Jonathan uses guitar rather than piano as his primary instrument. 

The logs burn. The duvet beckons. It’s going to be a cold night. I settle and smile as the consistency takes hold and the future maps out. 

10.29.20
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ALMA – Fall

A month or so ago now, I received a mail from ALMA. Super-polite and humble, Alba, Mel and Lillie asked if I might consider writing about their debut single, Fall. 

They attached a live video and I watched, transfixed, as the song built with a haunting pleasantness. “Try writing about this and not using the word ethereal”, I said to myself as I hunted down my Cocteau Twins Thesaurus. 

Repeated listens in and the melodies and harmonies continue to wash over me, the provider of all sorts of honest chil. It’s absolutely one of those songs that allows you to wallow and to bathe in your memories from years gone by. 

“Fall is a nostalgic elegy to childhood and growing up. We joke that it was inspired by a quarter-life crisis, but it has become much more of an appreciation of memory and our roots.”,say ALMA by way of explanation. 

A name jumps out at me when I look at the credits and I realise that the super-talented Elliot Moss is the mixing engineer for this recording. I assume that this is the same Elliot who so encouraged me to keep writing Sonic Breakfast posts when this site was in its infancy. There’s hardly likely to be two such talents with the same name in New York? For those visitors to Sonic Breakfast unfamiliar with the story of Elliot’s generosity, it can be read about here. 

Highspeeds, his debut album, still gets a frequent spin in these quarters. I confess though that, to my shame, I’ve not delved into Elliot’s later releases with such diligence. Perhaps now will be the time to do so.

But not before I listen again to Fall from ALMA and give more thought to Sonic Breakfast’s childhood; the tentative Spring steps giving way to a spirited Summer and a recent sense of maturing after migration.

 
09.17.20
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Skittish – Intro (vert)

I used to be a people person, a social animal, the sort that would turn up to the opening of an envelope. Always meeting people, always doing things, never short of a place to visit or a gig to go to, 2020 could have been impossible.

It’s been anything but. 

I check in with friends and they tell me that lockdown hasn’t been easy. They know me of old and acknowledge that if it’s been tough for them it must have been triple-hard for me. 

But I’ve been lucky in lockdown. The day job has kept me busy and I’ve felt comfortable in the isolation of it all. When compared to the many millions around the world who have very real health and finance concerns, I’ve got off lightly so far. “I cannot grumble“, I tell those friends.

Two years ago, when I lived for long periods of time alone in this remote Spanish villa, I’d be the first to admit that I didn’t deal with the solitude especially well. I needed the bright lights of a big city to get my kicks, a frenzied time at a festival to wear me out before a week of villa-nada. 

Perhaps that year was simply good practice for this, a dress rehearsal before the pandemic.  I like being alone with my thoughts and a world of  music to listen to. Take that away and I’d be fucked. 

Skittish has a new album out today. Savannah Sessions was recorded when Jeff Noller, the driving force behind Skittish, rocked up to live in Savannah. He dragged in many local musicians to augment his ambition. 

This is Skittish’s seventh album apparently. That’s a lot of catching up I have to get through on Spotify. But catch up I will for the impressions I get from hearing the singles from Savannah Sessions is that Skittish is an act I will grow to love. Literate and observational with power-pop swirls and folk flourishes, it’s stuff that’s right up my street. 

Take album opener, Intro (vert). A pun of a title gives way to a beautiful break-up song beneath. “This was the first song I wrote when I got to Savannah. Two days after I arrived a hurricane passed by and shut down the city. I enjoy my solitude very much, but am worried about living that way too long, which is wrapped up in the chorus line ‘it’s a trial of solo vs. So long‘” – a chorus made for my villa reflection it would appear. 

 

The other single from the record, Car Crash Companion, chimes in with a singalong chorus and vital power pop riffs. It also has a video with style, humour and awkward editing. “I make all of my videos for less than a hundred dollars“, says Skittish. 

And with that you know that you’ve unearthed another lo-fi gem. 

 

 

09.08.20
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J.E. Sunde – Love Gone To Seed

 

J.E. Sunde has been building up to the November release of his new album, 9 Songs About Love, by teasing us all with some great singles from it. It’s going to be a late contender for album of the year if the quality of those three tracks is typical of the rest of the record. 

I took some time out after work today to have a look at the video for ‘Love Gone To Seed’. This third single is a sublime piece of jaunty, country-influenced folk. It’s got the anguished simplicity of a Buddy Holly heartbreaker and the melodic beauty of Paul Simon at his least complicated. 

Sunde says it’s about “a relationship ending. Probably one whose ending is for the best. However, the fellow can’t really see that and is futilely attempting to hold the relationship together when the other person isn’t interested in that. It also mentions, seemingly as justification for the end of the relationship, the tempting lie that for love to be true and worth pursuing there should be no need for you to compromise in any way”.

We’ve all been there right? That unspoken desperation that characterises a relationship coming to an end, the unseemly addictiveness of the push-pull that gives a sliver of joy within a vista of hurt. In truth, I’ve not been there for a good, few years now and my memories of it are probably more distant than Jonathan Edward’s (that’s what the J.E. stands for) but I can still relate to the feelings when two atoms repel.

 

The Second single, I Don’t Care To Dance, is on the surface, a more melancholy piece, a slow, woozy dance late one evening, aided by gin and tonics. Sunde’s voice goes all Andy Shauf on us (this is a very good thing) as he ponders how the effects of a toxic masculinity influence his being. 

As J.E. says, “It’s about a man finding hope that love might be possible for him after having resigned himself that it wasn’t. It also speaks to the broken expectations and models that are given to men in how they should pursue relationships. Models and expectations that so often turn toxic”.

There is hope. This is music that helps me to smile, to cry and to fly. I hope you’ll like it as much as I. 

 
02.14.20
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An Evening With JF Robitaille and Lail Arad – Coronet Theatre Bar – February 11th 2020

Lying awake on a Monday night/ Tuesday morning, unable to sleep and convincing my hypochondriac self that my niggly cough is in fact Coronavirus, I use a bit of distraction therapy by checking out acts that are playing later today in London. My eyes and ears are drawn to JF Robitaille and Lail Arad’s set over at the Coronet Theatre bar in Notting Hill, a new venue for Sonic Breakfast. A quick listen to ‘The Photograph’ by JF and Lail on YouTube and I’m sold. This is my must see for a Tuesday night.

Their literate, country folk, steeped in the traditions of the best songwriters from the past, was never going to disappoint. Think Paul Simon meets Dory Previn, the streets of Greenwich NY with a Gallic twist, the poetry of Leonard Cohen with thoroughly modern flourishes and you won’t be far from the place that this duo navigate towards. 

The Coronet Theatre bar is quite a mish-mash of a space. Over there, a range of mirrors in all shapes and sizes dominate a wall. On the wall opposite, handbags are the theme. We sit on iron conservatory seats and plush antique chairs admiring the globes and hats that dangle above us. The bar staff work from behind a piano, serving drinks onto its top. The overall feel is one of plush yet quirky decadence, a private members club that nobody should feel excluded from. “It’s a great place for a gig”, I agree with Pip, a vicar I get chatting with who also has a neat sideline in gig promotion. 

Lail and JF take to the stage for this show of two halves and Lail reads from some prose. Perhaps I should recognise it – the florid descriptions of those moments before a gig begins both set the scene and calm the mood. Tonight we will lounge and luxuriate, relax and roll in chilled delight.

Lail and JF open with two singles; familiar territory for many here gathered before the new material is triumphantly tried and tested. We learn that the video to ‘The Photograph’ was filmed in this very venue. The duo jump between instruments; electric and acoustic guitars, harmonicas, tambourines and piano providing the variety that helps maintain our interest. But with harmonies and arrangements as special as these, there’s no chance that minds will wander. The first duo-album has been recorded in Italy with a full band but these are songs that don’t need clutter and full instrumentation to work. 

The second half begins much like the first ended but we do get chance within this section to hear mini sets from the solo repertoires of both JF, the doting French-Canadian and Lail, the proud Londoner.  JF digs deep into his back catalogue whilst Lail plays a completely new tune, a frantic ditty, busy with words perhaps called ‘hustling’ and possibly a reflection on there not being enough hours in any day. 

The home straight is upon us. This has been a night of optimistic romance, of lost love, of kitchen-sink dramas and travelling tales.A speaker buzz that crackles like a cry-baby as the set closes does not dampen the overall spirit. A medley of love songs to Europe and the EU bring proceedings to an end. Tuesday’s don’t tend to get better than this. 

 

01.27.20
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Noah Gundersen and Harrison Whitford – Union Chapel – January 16th 2020

Noah Gunderson is right. It probably does suck to start any UK tour at Islington’s Union Chapel. The wonderful serenity of the surrounds; the stained-glass looking down on us in this stunning place of worship. Other venues just can’t compete with the peace and beauty. “It’s all going to be downhill from here”, observes Noah wisely. 

Tonight, the Union Chapel is Noah’s ark. His brand of singer-songwriter folk goes down a treat with the hushed audience who cling to his every word. Noah loves the British audiences; they’re attentive listeners and polite with their praise. We are in a chapel and sitting in pews after all. 

He’s joined for most of his set in the chapel by support act, Harrison Whitford. Clearly friends off-stage, there’s a magic that works between them. Harrison harmonises and play crisp slide guitar licks whilst Noah holds fort taking cheap (and obvious) shots about the state of British food. Rich from an American. 

We’ve already been treated to Harrison’s support set. He’s great; a storyteller with a manner of delivery that mixes Sufjan Stevens with Randy Newman; he plays a cover from the latter. It’s definitely going to rain today. 

Talking of covers, Noah’s not averse to one or two himself. ‘I wanna dance with somebody’ sounds sad and mournful rather than pop. The Tom Waits cover, ‘Day After Tomorrow’ a smart addition and a set highlight. His own songs, earnest and literate, sometimes suffer from a popular blandness. I yearn for a bit more weirdness in my music but there’s no denying that when Noah really opens his mouth, a powerful voice comes to the fore. 

In between the acts, a chap (whose name I miss) comes and gives an impassioned speech about the sadness of suicide, especially in young men. Apparently, it’s a cause close to Noah’s heart and he’s actively working with this charity to get men to talk, to be more open about their emotions. Got to appreciate that touch. 

We parade out into rain-drenched Islington streets. I’ve enjoyed my first visit to the Union Chapel. The adoring fans are oblivious to a bit of drizzle.