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           A smooth, undemanding listen, “Summer Storm” is just two voices and two guitars on a percussionless merry-go-round. When it works, as on the opener, “Side For This” and the comfortably subdued “Silk As Her Era,” an electric guitar feels like a notable addition, complimenting the structure of the song in all the right ways.

             More often than not, however, Pellumair just don’t give their songs a fighting chance, an arrangement of just two guitars (and the occasional pluck of an upright bass) proving insufficient to keep things from growing somewhat monotonous time after time.

             Though in some places the pair sound like a British take on Kings Of Convenience (with a hint of Galaxie 500), ultimately the lack of depth to these songs lets things down enough to make 11 tracks and 38 minutes feel like an ambitious stretch.

             Having broken up before this album was even released (an inability to find a workable live sound is reported to have been the main reason), one can only hope that their divided talents will find the company of musicians and effective permutations of instruments in their future incarnations.

Artist / Group:
Pellumair
Album:
Summer Storm
Label:
Tugboat
Released:
14th November 2005

Popularity: 1% [?]

Living up to their indistinct but apt choice of name, this 8-piece group from Vermont use feather-light vocals to deliver one of the best tracks I’ve heard this year. Opening the album with falling waves of harmonies, there’s more than a touch of Marc Bolan to these dreamy descents, but they can’t help but be entirely absorbing. While it may be a stretch to decipher some of the words, the interplay of these shimmering lines has an addictive quality, leaving a taste that has you wanting more before the song has even ended.

Musically speaking, it should come as no surprise to those familiar with Devendra Banhart’s “Cripple Crow” that Feathers guest appeared on that release, as there is quite a similar presence and texture to these songs. But no matter how many fad labels you attach as a prefix, this is just good old timey folk. Flush with an range of “world” instruments (undulating guitar, mountain dulcimer, lap harp, sitar, and banjo among them), “To Earth His Own” is another vibrant, intoxicating affair, the vocals again low in the mix as a rhythm rich with the air of a time long gone winds a trail into the soft and simple “Alna.”

Led by a female delivery this time, the track is buoyed with an almost pious element, its slow, sleepy feel fading out to a strangely misplaced squeal of distortion before the ascending acoustics of “I Bex Horn” stabilise the LP’s momentum comfortably. Here, the inclusion of a distorted guitar is the only reminder you’re bound to find that what you’re hearing isn’t from the antiquated music sheets of centuries bygone.

From crickets to radio-waves, “Van Bal” is an impressively eclectic mix of sounds, reverberating with a surreal degree of balance despite the sheer volume of ingredients involved. From “Silverleaves in the Air of Starseedlings” on, the Feathers LP begins to feel like it has the stamp of George Harrison all over it – the same soothing voices that weaved the warm “Old Black Hal with a Danelion Flower” together here sounding like a blissful choir of strung-out angels.

After the rather more stripped down and straightforward “Past the Moon,” there is an eerie similarity to a blend of Harrison and Lennon on “Come Around,” a number that presents itself like a well-rounded, traditional gospel folk tune, completing the Feathers experience nicely. Though the album is arguably a little too light in places (even for feathers), in all, if it can catch your attention in just the right frame of my mind, this is an extremely comforting release among the year’s best.

Having made the transition from CD-R to a limited run of 1,000 LPs, it may be some time yet before Feathers begin to gain the kind of attention they deserve, but rest assured they are a welcome addition to the ever-blossoming folk revolution.

Artist / Group:
Feathers
Album:
Feathers
Label:
Cargo

Popularity: 2% [?]

           “Black Sheep Boy Appendix” works like a distilled, alternative version of one of 2005’s most acclaimed albums, “Black Sheep Boy.” Rather than serve as a mere EP of alternate takes, it’s a mini-concept album that may prove to be the perfect introduction to its predecessor for all those that missed out on it the first time around.

             Opening on a dark, strangely alluring lullaby sequence, Will Sheff’s literary skill traces the steps of a group of children drawn into the woods, cartoonish stars twinkling above as if the beginning of an epic fairytale. While Sheff’s Eel -like delivery is questionable, the scene is brilliantly vivid and storybook-like, his gift for words turning the pages for you. “No Key, No Plan,” on the other hand, could be about absolutely anything; racing away with a carefree swing (and also a different style of vocal), it effectively cleans the palate before a gorgeous ribbon of strings takes us back to the next awaiting chapter with cinematic smoothness – it’s almost as if you can feel the camera slowly cutting back to the story. A lumbering rhythm, “Black Sheep Boy #4″ is a nice, countrified segue that’s littered with darkened imagery of chasing forces.

             “Another Radio Song” runs through a mixture of elements on the way to developing a belated but entirely effective momentum, before then being submerged into a scene of mysterious noises that hint teasingly rather than detail the next progressive step – perhaps Appendix’s only drawback to its compact contents.

             Things reach a climax with “Last Love Song for Now,” another upbeat outing but this time charged with the swoon of Mariachi horns a la Calexico, hand-clapping its proclamation as the release’s standout moment before bowing out on the same fantastic string theme that has tied this neat little unit together brilliantly.

             In all, the EP format allows Okkervil River to expand (but not rehash) the themes and feel to “Black Sheep Boy,” allowing them a creative license and margin for experimentation that, un-self-consciously, pays off dividends.

Artist / Group:
Okkervil River
Album:
Black Sheep Boy Appendix
Label:
Jagjaguwar
Released:
22nd November 2005

Popularity: 1% [?]

            After the surprise success of the soundtrack to “Garden State,” record companies have been only too happy to cash in on anything bearing even a feint resemblance ever since. Consequently, 2005 has seen an unprecedented influx of indie-pop releases, veritably causing the good to become indistinguishable from the bad amongst a flood of soundalikes. Whereas Brendan Benson, Jack Johnson, and Devin Davis deservedly earned warm receptions early on in the year, the likes of OKGO, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, and The New Pornographers have marked a saturation point of dulcet choruses and sugar-coated harmonies. Quite simply, we’re reaching a level of overkill in the catchy department, and this cynical re-working of what “pop” is by the labels has left me as an indie-pop diabetic. Having been acquainted with Rogue Wave’s “Out of the Shadow” just before this tide began, I had to wonder whether their latest release, the aptly titled “Descended Like Vultures,” would be able to revive my ailing interest in the genre.

             Whereas 2004’s “Out of the Shadow” was ostensibly a solo effort whose ear-candy confounded listeners in all the right ways, Rogue Wave’s sophomore release is the end-product of a four-piece who have made a conscious decision to inject a little more heaviness into matters. In place of a hushed lo-fi quality uncannily like Elliot Smith comes a more vivacious spread that, instead, could be accused of sounding dangerously similar to some of the acts already mentioned. Thus, releasing this album after such a slew is a confident move indeed, but Zach Wave’s songwriting is more than able to weather the seas of soundalikes, and those already fond of his sweetened songwriting sensibilities will not be disappointed.

             Demonstrating this amped-up transition, the gratifying opener “Bird on a Wire” features a falling guitar line cutting uncompromisingly into the end of each verse with great volume, and the effect is elaborated on even further with a subtle smattering of electro-like feedback towards the song’s end. Similarly, when “Publish My Love” bursts in on a gust of distortion, and has its chorus propelled with Pat Spurgeon’s thundering bassdrum, it’s clear that the main idea here is to consciously give Rogue’s songwriting some extra strength, building it up with a tougher exterior, however superficial that layer may be.

             How and ever, the new changes ring in a comfortable level of diversity if nothing else, and “Descended like Vultures” is certainly the better for it. “10:1,” on the other hand, is the perfect example of sounding a little too like every other indie-pop band, and it’s a moment we, and Rogue’s songwriting, can do without. No matter how they’re dressed up and filled out, one can’t escape the feeling that these songs were all written on an acoustic as simple saccharine reveries (like the Norweigan Wood-esque “California”) and have been given a makeover in an attempt to avoid the inevitable comparisons to label-mates The Shins – an inclination that seemed set to dog Rogue Wave’s career after “Out of the Shadow.”

             By the time we reach “Are You on My Side,” it’s clear that Rogue Wave’s songs feel infinitely catchy and memorable while you’re listening to them, but, somewhat inexplicably, seem to lack a magnetic pull; as with the previous release is, it’s quite easy to enjoy this thoroughly without finding yourself being drawn back to it. Yet even if that is the case, there’s surely more than enough here to earn it a place right alongside the best of the scene’s current crop, though any commercial success may hang in the balance of the album’s timing.

Artist / Group:
Rogue Wave
Album:
Descended Like Vultures
Label:
Sub Pop
Released:
31st October 2005

Popularity: 1% [?]

             A significant influence on Devendra Banhart, British folk singer Vaashti Bunyan recorded only one album before retiring from music and disappearing into obscurity in the 70s. Having enjoyed somewhat of a rediscovery in recent years – one that has led to collaborations with the likes of Animal Collective and Banhart himself – Bunyan has finally emerged with an overdue follow-up to 1969’s “Just Another Diamond Day.”

             Amazingly, there is nothing in terms of age to distinguish “Lookaftering” from the amber hues of her once forgotten pastoral folk. In fact, Bunyan could have easily recorded her latest offering a decade or two even before then, such is the timeless quality to her breathy, quavering vocals and her cut-off-from-the-world presence. It feels as if little has changed from the cover of that cult release all those years ago: a woman in clad in an apron and headdress stands in the doorway of a small thatched cottage, the elements of rural living clearly everywhere around her.

             As a stripped-down, entirely acoustic album (with not so much as a single beat of percussion), it should come as no surprise that there is a repetitive essence to “Lookaftering,” the tracks never straying too far from each other melodically, but ambling along like a herd of sheep on the farm you can’t help but place her on.

             There is a tender, ornate quality to everything Bunyan touches, but her shrill whisper often fails to be articulate enough to hear the lyrics clearly – something that the closing “Wayward Hum” proves by being a hummed, wordless piece that’s just as effective as its siblings. While the intricate layers of “Here Before” and the lonesome swoon of “Wayward” present themselves as highlights, each of the eleven tracks are equally representative of the dusty, antiquated fare Bunyan is revisiting.

             There is an undeniable beauty and even a sense of purity to be found here, something that perhaps has only remained intact because Bunyan took a thirty year sabbatical to raise a family. The impressive list of guest stars that adorn the background scenes inconspicuously – Joanna Newsom, Robert Kirby (arranger for Nick Drake), Esper’s Otto Hauser, and Currituck County’s Kevin Barker among them – pays testament to the impact Bunyan has been having unbeknownst to her all these years. However, it’s quite likely that you would not be able to pick out these names amongst the chimes of recorders and glockenspiels, particularly if you’re stretching to differentiate these songs from each other. Ultimately, “Lookaftering” seems surprisingly unconcerned with doing everything it can to rest as a memorable work – something one would assume would be a priority to an artist who has been criminally over-looked in such a period of near-anonymous exile.

             It’s been said many times that “the Velvet underground and Nico” only sold 100 copies when it was first released, but everyone who bought it started a band; the same could be suggested – in a folkie context, of course – about “Just Another Diamond Day.” While forgotten folksman Bill Fay made a similar return this year from the depths of nowhere to deliver more sounds from the bottom of a grandfather clock, Bunyan’s return is one that recreates those postcard-like images of falling snowflakes across acres of farm, miles from anywhere. The difference is that this time, a new generation will be listening.

Artist / Group:
Vashti Bunyan
Album:
Lookaftering
Label:
Fat Cat
Released:
25th October 2005

Popularity: unranked [?]