Sound ‘Round: No Age / Dehd

Minimalists with miles to go

No Age – Goons Be Gone (Drag City)

I don’t know who the goons of the title are, nor do I particularly care to inquire. For one, goons will always be there for starving musicians, working stiffs and otherwise rational folk to despise. What’s more, Dean Spunt and Randy Randall have always kept their long-running endeavor in minimalism focused on sounds and sonic textures instead of lyrical particularities or melodic hooks. It’s why post-modern geeks adore them, why their worst ideas sound so extemporaneous, and why the full-steam-ahead rush of 2018’s Snares Like a Haircut is so invigorating and unpretentious. This follow-up splits the difference between their newly discovered fondness for structure with the oblique avant-punk that got them this far in the first place. It works because the latter is anchored by the former. For most of these 11 songs and 33 minutes, they chug along in as straight a line as possible. Ramshackle drums prop up guitars that aren’t near as girthy or developed as they otherwise appear while keybs, whirls, whooshes, swooshes, beeps, blips, loops and other studio trickery fill in the gaps. For a band that once lived and died by its primitive ideals, it’s encouraging to know there’s still a space for smart kids to learn, grow (which is different from mature, mind you) and still maintain their principles. Who knows, maybe they’ll start to have a little more fun along the way. GRADE: A- 

Dehd – Flower of Devotion (Fire Talk)

I must confess to rolling my eyes after reading the backstory to this Chicago trio. Professional tattoo artist Emily Kempf and boyfriend Jason Balla use their fledgling career as an excuse to take a cross-country vacation and bring along neophyte drummer Eric McGrady to help pay for gas. Sounds insufferably twee. Were this another gooey Zoey Deschanel TV pilot, it would probably wind up that way. But Kempf’s warbled, throaty alto is too awkward and unvarnished for such niceties — imagine Brody Dalle without the nicotine habit. She brings the sort of gruff and endearing attitude too few women in rock find vital these days. It’s Balla who is the real softy here. He’s the one on guitar creating the sort of echoing dream-pop riffs that give young romantics purpose. He’s also the one who softly sings simple but reassuring lines like “I wanna make a difference in your life” and “We’re different, but better as one.” As for her, she sings “Loner,” about wanting to be one and later follows that proclamation with “I still love you even as I leave you.” Despite the seeming contradictions found in their songwriting, I never once get the feeling their love is on the fritz. The harmonies they share are too effervescent, and the brand of minimalism they evoke is too melodic and rhythmically consistent. I wish them well, and hope one of them keeps the drummer around after any breakup. Drummers need love, too, ya know. GRADE: A-

Sound ‘Round: Dawn Oberg / Chad Matheny

Protest songs you hope have less sting in 100 years 

Dawn Oberg – Nothing Rhymes with Orange (Blossom Theory, 2017)

I’m writing this review less than a week after Joe Biden has been declared president-elect. I’ve scheduled it to run the day before the Twentieth Amendment says his term as 46th president is due to begin. With hopes of Trump’s coup having been thwarted, I thought it best to revisit this mini-protest collection from 2017 — a terrible year for me personally and a time in which the gravity of Trump’s murderous stupidity was made manifest. This three-song EP from Dawn Oberg, a San Francisco jazz pianist by way of Minnesota, remains spot on for its satire and has more punchlines than SNL’s shitty Alec Baldwin impression ever mustered. The title track begins by describing our dear leader as “A walking slab of brain damage beneath of bad toupee,” and winds up with “He cannot grab my snatch but he can bite my bloody rag.” It’s a shame the proceeding “Information is Your Friend” will never be heard or taken seriously by the people who need it most — and is all the more tragic in a post-COVID world. The finale envisions the apocalypse and is simply called, “I’d Love to be Wrong.” At least we’ve made it this far.  GRADE: A- 

Dawn Oberg – 2020 Revision EP (Blossom Theory)

She sure as hell ain’t prolific. With years of perpetual bullshit on our newsfeed, the best she can do is just three more songs that reaffirm her contempt for dickheads everywhere. Still, I’ll take quality over quantity every time. The anthem here is “Mitch McConnell,” which rightly shames its namesake and stands up for turtles who aren’t “obstructionist pricks” or “stacking courts with rapey, infantile pricks.” An obvious joke, sure, so I’m glad she goes a bit deeper on “Care,” wherein a homeless Jesus is shunned by bible-thumpers who miss the point of Matthew 25:40. The opener concerns police brutality and namechecks five victims of San Francisco PD — four of whom are Hispanic. “It’s 12:01, motherfuckers, past time to change the guard at the gate.” I feel the same about my own Indianapolis and the steps of Congress. GRADE: A-

Chad Matheny – United Earth League of Quarantine Aerobics (self-released)

Three of these seven songs are language-specific remixes, which you’ll swear at first are overkill — “Even a karaoke version?” you’ll say. But realize two truths: First, Matheny, who goes by Emperor X for his day job, is a world traveler from Jacksonville who now calls Berlin home. Second, these songs touch on a pandemic that has impacted nearly every society on earth. So it’s only right for Spanish speakers and German speakers to feel a shared sense of togetherness on a quarantine anthem called “Stay Where You Are.” Matheny is a former science-teacher, which means he cares about the particulars. It’s why the first track’s description of a day-one COVID outbreak includes advice from “our sober alcoholic neighbor wearing my old shoes.” It’s also why a lockdown love song rhymes “parasite” with “congressional oversight.” But the best song here is the most plainspoken, and is inspired by the true story of a nurse union that faced retribution for reporting a hospital’s failure to protect front line workers. It’s another reminder that worker’s rights are human rights, and that we should never just “go back to normal.” GRADE: A- 

Sound ‘Round: Bright Eyes / The Mountain Goats

Three cheers for indie dudes who won’t quit 

Bright Eyes – Down in the Weeds, Where the World Once Was (Dead Oceans)

More than a decade removed from the indie boom that turned underfed art-school jerks into millionaires, I’m glad Conor Oberst pulled himself through the shit to come out the other side with melodic gifts intact. Since last he released a Bright Eyes record, he endured (in order) a false sexual assault allegation, the death of his brother and a divorce. If he sounds down in the mouth, he’s got the right. But know nature is partly to blame. That Nebraska drawl of his is as flat as a wheat field and unathletic as a Husker offensive lineman. But it also possesses a quivering, quasi-romantic sensibility — makes him sound like the sad puppy his target market takes him for. Yet, six rotations in, I hear a man with reasons aplenty to wallow instead fight against everyday anguish and despair. What starts with “Gotta keep on going like it ain’t the end,” becomes “There’s no way to turn back the clock / It’s going to run until it stops” becomes “Life sounds so sweet and then it’s gone so suddenly” which turns into “I’m not afraid of the future.” Darkness remains a constant presence, however. Death and a higher power are referenced often, and the panic attack of “Hot Car in the Sun” comes just after his mother’s health scare and just before the existential dread of staring down eternity. All this is to say he’s neither a blind optimist nor a depressive. He’s just a slightly fucked up schlub fighting like hell to stay afloat. GRADE: A-

The Mountain Goats – Getting Into Knives (Merge)

While I suspect fans as obsessive compulsive as front man John Darnielle will be disheartened that these songs aren’t connected by a larger concept, I’m glad he ditched such conceits. Where Beat the Champ was a clever tribute to the working class masked as a paean to professional wrestling, Goths and In League with Dragons were too literal and too literary for anyone other than obsessive compulsives to appreciate. It’s apparent Darnielle feels freed from the weight of carrying a larger narrative. His songwriting hasn’t been this demotic in years, and his braying vocals sound equally relaxed and knowable. That’s not to say he’s completely ditched his tendency to conceptualize. These songs are still character studies centered on those fighting forces they can’t control. What connects them is a through line centered on finding satisfaction in small doses. Though the runaway divorcee who travels the country in her wedding dress has little in common with the literal goldfish who exist at the mercy of the current, both understand “not every wave is a tidal wave,” and find what measure of happiness is afforded them. Ditto wolves who fight and survive as one and the escaped fugitive content to live off the grid. But notice no happy ending is found on the satirical “Get Famous,” which says all you need to know regarding Darnielle’s thoughts on his chosen profession. Also notice that the hooks start to fade after the midway point — an appropriate resolution for an album about small pleasures, I suppose. GRADE: A-

Sound ‘Round: Open Mike Eagle / Homeboy Sandman

Alterna-rap kingpins stay heady 

Open Mike Eagle – Anime, Trauma and Divorce (Auto Reverse)

Funnymen (and funnywomen) have feelings, too, ya know. My favorite humorists draw inspiration from the darker corners of their lives. They revel in the sort of depressive catharsis that helps us laugh the blues away — Maria Bamford is a godsend. But there’s a fine line between gallows humor and maudlin sentiment. I’m glad Chicago’s Mike Eagle not only understands the difference, but expertly walks the tight rope between the two. 2019 was a bad year for Mike. His marriage fell apart, his Comedy Central show was shitcanned after one season, and he spiraled into the sort of mental crisis that’s all too relatable for the victims of 2020 (and, let’s face it, any other wretched year). But here is the sort of album-as-personal-journey that keeps its chin up without shortchanging the gloominess from whence it came. Credit Mike’s brevity, which prevents the music from growing turgid, and his personable flow, which turns these meditative rhymes into therapeutic self-reflection. He avoids cliché, sprinkles enough anime references in to appease Adult Swim diehards, but keeps it real enough for those who’ve never seen an episode of Dragon Ball Z. In fact, the best pop culture riff concerns Black Mirror ruining his marriage. Some of his woes pertain to the financial realities of showbiz, but all of us know the sting of having our dreams dashed. And while these songs don’t coalesce around a worthy couplet that drives the entire concept home, it’s nonetheless reassuring to hear someone I admire admit they’re sad but attempt to smile anyway. GRADE: A-

Homebody Sandman – Don’t Feed the Monster (Mello Music Group)

He knows a lot of words because he’s highly intelligent — Ivy Leaguer, law school dropout. He talks fast for the simple fact he’s from Queens. The duality of his immense vocabulary and rapid-fire delivery makes him an impressive listen, but it’s the humor related to casual truths that turns him into an artist worth investing in. The unconverted would be wise to start with 2016’s Kindness for Weakness, a strong summation of everything he’s been up to this point. This record, his 13th in as many years, is notable for its length. At 54 minutes, he’s never gone this long, nor this slow. Where the tempo once raced to keep up with his quick tongue, here things turn to a comparative crawl. I suspect the change of pace is twofold: 1) 2020 was a hard year in which to hustle which in turn 2) makes him exceptionally contemplative and thoughtful. It’s why two of the first three songs are called “Trauma” and “Stress,” and why “Extinction” ponders “Is any cool people still alive, or is it all the cool people have died?” Don’t get it twisted, though. He’s no depressive. The grooves remain playful in their slowed state, and (most importantly) he hasn’t lost his funny bone. I’ll credit the woman he loves despite her inability to get ready on time. “Don’t get me wrong, I like it when she dolls up / But trying 20 different outfits on makes me say ‘What the fuck?’” Like I said, casual truths. GRADE: A-