The first time I heard “Billy Pilgrim,” I was convinced that the Sea Monsters were going to make it. I envisioned more shows at Cafe Ambrosia and the Warming House, leading to spots at the Beat Kitchen and Schuba’s, which would in turn garner enough blog hype to propel them into the festival circuit. The Sea Monsters were six wunderkinds from Chicago’s North Shore churning out blood-pumping waves of indie rock. I remember Zack Looman’s muffled warbles, Andrew Heaton and Aaron Ratoff’s shrilly interlocking guitars, Ben Siegfried’s driving bass, Woodie Borre’s kaospads, and Ian Becker’s drums destroying our suburbs one basement show at a time.

The band talked, in their final year, of getting together an Electronic Press Kit to send to Chicago venues after Andrew’s parents paid for studio time at Semaphore (where Sonic Youth recorded[!]) for a graduation gift. Letters were sent, shows were vaguely discussed. But then college scattered the six of them across North America and the Sea Monsters were no more. They had their last show in Woodie’s basement, and in the final moments of the set I realized that a great thing had been lost.
It is in the memory of the Sea Monsters — and so many other incredible bands that have passed all too quickly into and out of existence — that the I Miss That Band project has been conceived. The Sea Monsters left behind them a dozen incredible recordings which, until now, have been stranded in cyberspace and on the computers of the few who were lucky enough to have heard them. IMTB seeks to resurrect dead music everywhere, and to show the music-listening world that bands that burned as brightly — albeit briefly — as the Sea Monsters are worth memorializing.

I MISS THAT BAND is a new compilation project in its fetal stages yet, but with big, big dreams. The idea is simple: capture as much as we can of the great lost music. This refers to all the incredible bands you heard in basements in high school and who played one show eight years ago and then split up with only a couple lo-fi mp3′s to their name. I MISS THAT BAND wants to crystallize the great music that would be otherwise lost through a series of compilations stratified by area and basic time period. Every month or so (depending on YOUR contributions[!]) IMTB will release a new installment, called, say, Kalamazoo, 1998-2003, with maybe ten songs and a liner notes / booklet to boot, of great bands that have been born and died but deserve a proper monument.

So, how to bridge the gap between idea and actual, physical project? That’s where you come in. I MISS THAT BAND is currently (and for the foreseeable future) accepting all submissions!!! Here’s what we need:
- Bands that are for all intents and purposes DEFUNCT. The idea for this format is not to promote current artists but to preserve art for its own sake and blah blah blah. We will, of course, mention any projects the bands/artists have gone on to do in the liner notes, but for the purposes of I MISS THAT BAND send us your old, forgotten bands.
- Any sort of attachment to a recording
- Basic info on the band, such as name, members, years, area, history… anything you can muster. If you don’t know jack about the band, still send it and we’ll try to do some of our research.
- Any leads on worthy music scenes that have flourished and fizzled over the years
- ENTHUSIASM. This project will thrive on people submitting and getting excited about the series.

Hopefully it will evolve into a mail-out service + blog, but that can only happen if people help get it off the ground.

“The words / that you sang / on a track / that you wrote / on a record / that I lost / when I moved two years ago, / Well it all came back loud and clear and made me sad / I miss that band.” – Paul Baribeau

For more info:

I Miss That Band on Facebook

or IMissThatBand@gmail.com

A review of M. Ward’s new album Hold Time

M. Ward’s been busy. Between collaborations with artists as varied as My Morning Jacket, Norah Jones, Bright Eyes, and Cat Power, to producing, playing and arranging in his side project, the critically-acclaimed She & Him, he somehow had time to put out a new album.

Hold Time, M. Ward’s seventh release, serves up a steaming-hot platter of intricate, carefully well crafted songs, the likes of which we’ve come to expect from this Oregonian.

http://www.mwardmusic.com/It has staples of past recordings, with brilliant collaborations and a sense of loneliness and melancholy tinged with hope and joy, a signature accomplishment Ward has been able to carry throughout his discography.

Past releases focused on a theme, like 2003’s Transfiguration of Vincent, inspired by and about the life of folk legend John Fahey, 2005’s Transistor Radio, a yearning for the golden years of AM radio, and 2006’s Post-War, a look at life during and after wartime. On Hold Time, M. Ward delves deep instead into broad ideas about time, death, faith, and love.

Ward’s inquisitive songs about faith and God are executed with confidence, although the topic is almost taboo in today’s indie music scene, with Sufjan Stevens a rare exception. Stevens, however, is asserting his faith, whereas Ward is questioning his Catholic upbringing and what he believes in, recalling Jenny Lewis’s masterful first solo release, Rabbit Fur Coat, which M. Ward co-produced.

M. Ward’s introspective look at his own mortality allows him to maintain an intimate, familiar feeling throughout the album. The listener feels like M. Ward is on the front porch, finally opening up after a few beers. This album marks a shift in M. Ward’s personal presence on the record- it’s as if he’s finally okay being M. Ward, the musician, as opposed to M. Ward, invisible creator of music.

Hold Time is not remarkably different than any of his previous albums, with a certain thoughtfulness that weave the record together, creating a cohesive, comprehensive collection of music as opposed to stand alone songs. The whole album has a timeless quality, with songs that seem simple at first, but unfold to reveal intricate, subtle complexities that sound effortless.

He excels in his producing capacity, expertly layering guitar finger picking, his signature sound, with swelling strings, dissonant noise, bells, feedback, and his gravelly voice–low-FI in the midst of polished production. The album is well constructed, and although the songs blend into each other, it never becomes boring.

The second half tends to float off a bit, but a cover of Don Gibson’s “Oh Lonesome Me,” performed with Lucinda Williams, brings things back to the sweet spot. Critics either love or hate this cover, a strange reaction brought about by Williams’ raspy voice, striking the listener as out of place at first, before revealing itself as an effect compliment to Ward’s own voice.

Other collaborations include “Never Had Nobody Like You,” a 70s rock tinged track with Zooey Deschanel, the lesser half of She & Him. She also adds vocals to “Rave On,” a laid back Buddy Holly cover in the tradition of David Bowie’s “Let’s Dance” on Transfiguration of Vincent. Jason Lytle of Grandaddy appears on “To Save Me,” but fails to assert a presence.

In Hold Time M. Ward appears to finally be aware of his charm, and maintains his earnest introspection as he carefully winds joy, hope, and misery through his beautiful orchestral arrangements.

Stand out tracks: “Jailbird,” “Never Had Nobody Like You,” “To Save Me”

A review of the self-titled album Fleet Foxes

There’s something about the dragging pace of winter that makes me want to curl up and hibernate to a great album. In past winters, while balled up in the front seat of my Jeep, watching snow fall on empty parking lots, I would immerse my head in the hour-long glory of albums with depth and personality like OK Computer or Eliott Smith’s Either/Or. This year, however, finds me in the healthy Seattle, indie folk-rock scene with the eponymous debut full-length debut from Fleet Foxes, released on Sub-Pop Records.

In my deluded summer haze of Lil Wayne and Damien Marley, it took the stiff arm of a December snowstorm to force me into my room with a set of headphones and a gallon of eggnog to realize what a solid piece of work Fleet Foxes proves to be.

The most immediately
apparent element that sets the band apart is their proficiency with the two and
three-part vocal harmony, a lost art in modern rock
music. Coupled with steady acoustic strumming and understated piano and
electric guitar accompaniment, the album rounds out as a consistently
interesting exhibition of the groups evolving songwriting talents.

At its best, the sound
is a warm and haunting image of what the Beach Boys would have been  had
they grown up in the woods and sung about the cryptic patterns of life in the
country. At its rare worst, it can sound like a plodding rendition of Crosby,
Stills, and Nash’s less inspired material.

The crown jewel of the
set is the second track, “White Winter Hymnal,” a catchy melody
reminiscent of an old bluegrass gospel tune. It is here that lead singer Robin
Pecknold and his bandmates show off the power of intelligent song writing coupled
with vocal harmony. Other highlights include the ice-breaking opening
track “Sun It Rises,” and the closing track, “Oliver James,” in which
Pecknold shows off his vocal range against a simple finger-picked guitar
line. Here you find the most emotional vocals of the entire album, making you
wish there were more stripped down, vocal-guitar tracks where the
strength of the melody could shine through the chord progression.

Lyrically, the songs
tend to be worldly and old-fashioned while generally avoiding a feel of
contrivance. It’s sometimes difficult for young indie musicians to pull off
lyrics like “the meadowlark is singing to youeach and every day,” but the Foxes
use their musical talents and lyricalimagery to produce an acceptable nod to
the country/bluegrass style. The wordsare occasionally splattered with references
to local places and people–in folk tradition–but not detailed so much so as
to make the songs cumbersome or to distract from the importance of the listener’s
imagination in interpretation.

Through and through, Fleet
Foxes exhibits what I look for
in a relaxed, extended
listening experience. There’s nothing here to jar you. The lyrics elicit images
of calm and uplifting country life. The songwriting is impeccable by today’s
standards. The harmonies are heart-felt and unobtrusive.

Some people (not
everyone) will hear a modern folk rock rendition of Pet Sounds, but no matter the imagery, Fleet Foxes is perfect for sitting by a fire and doing
nothing for about forty minutes. Perfect for winter listening.