The Silks, The Last American Band You Should Be Listening To

The Silks performing in Detroit (Photo courtesy of the band's Facebook page)

By Dave Pezza

There is a lull between songs, that gasp of air and respite that both the band and the audience doesn’t need but thankfully takes. A couple in front of me—a girl whose feeling good and a boyfriend who is quickly becoming a babysitter—pause their dancing. The girl calls out,

“Play ‘Can’t You Hear Me Knocking’!!!!!”

The guitar player finishes his shot and leans over to the microphone,

 “Yea sure, but you gotta come up and sing.”

The girl moves behind her boyfriend and buries her face in his back.

“Do you know the words? If you can sing it we’ll play it.”

The guitarists’ tone teeters between disingenuous and playful, heavily influenced by the booze and the fact that their fucking killing the set. I think he must feel invincible.

“Nah, she doesn’t know the words!” The girl’s boyfriend yells.

“I’ll play one of my own instead,” he says matter-of-factly and opens “Trouble,” a groove infused powerhouse that gets everyone in the dank, dark bar dancing like Woodstock just broke out in this shitty part of Providence. They’re all fans; they’ve all heard it before; they’re all convinced that they are hearing something rare and beautiful and dangerous. We feel like the only new ones, the only ones who came not knowing what we were going to hear, and we’re now starting to feel the same way.

The Silks come from Providence, and they sound like a classic rock band, a really fucking good classic rock band. A three piece of lead, bass, and drum that sounds so tight that I refused to believe that their new drummer had learned the majority of the set list the day before, including a song that he learned 20 minutes ago in the bathroom. The Silks have been around for a few years, releasing their first, and only, album in 2013, “Last American Band.” The album title is douchey and assuming, but it’s right. The Silks might be the last American band. They can do it all: ballads, classic rock, blues, slide guitar, 10-minute bass grooves, drum solos, harmonica. I paid $10 at the door and got a show every bit as good as monster acts like Foo Fighters and Queens of the Stone Age.

After the band finished its most radio friendly song, “Down at the Heel,” a crooning classic rock anthem, the lead guitarist takes a moment, adding a capo to his guitar, and announces a new song that’s not on their album,

“It’s good to see you all hear supporting us at Fête, but the truth is we haven’t been doing so well. So thank you all for coming out tonight and bringing all your friends. This song is called “Hold On,” and that’s what we’re trying to do."

And that was when it hit me; these guys are struggling. They’re not on iTunes, and the bar we were dancing in maybe had 30 people tops, the vast majority of which were friends and old supporters. How can a band this good be struggling? 

“If those guys were putting records out in the 1970s, they’d still be on the radio today,” my friend said later.

He nailed it. If this was 1975, The Silks would be headlining arenas all over the United States. Trust me; I’m not over reaching. But what does that say about rock music today, and its place in the culture. There isn’t a gimmick with The Silks, they don’t take bullshit; they just get up there and fucking rock. No covers, no acts. Just song after song after song of damn good rock 'n' roll. 

So what’s the problem? There has to be a catch, right? Something we don’t know about them. But the real answer is that the problem is us. We don’t support music like we once did, because we don’t need to. Concert tickets are expensive, so we don’t feel bad about not going too often; music is cheap and inexpensive on iTunes or, let’s be honest, free if you’re downloading it illegally. And  usually we are listening to it in our own heads, shutting out the world in the process. And that’s for big acts, bands that have already “made it.” Bands like the The Silks who can’t afford to be on a large, money making digital providers like iTunes, because iTunes is seeing most of that money. They are on bandcamp and promote through Facebook. Their first album is $10 on bandcamp, or you can see them in person and grab it on vinyl (highly recommended) for $25.

But are you willing to go a show in a dive bar to see these guys play, with little to go on other than my word and maybe listening to some tracks on YouTube? You should because that's how it used to work. Covers were cheap, and the band actually saw a good chunk of that. You gathered up your friends to the bar and drank your face off, rocking to some good live music. You didn’t have to buy tickets six months in advance, rent a hotel room, get stripped searched at the venue, or pay $12 dollars for a beer. You just got up and went.

The Silks might just be the last American band, and its future depends on whether we want good bands and good music anymore. And if we do, we have to start supporting them in real, tangible ways. So please, visit the band's official website, like its Facebook page, or download the album.

Dave Pezza spends his time trying to justify printing "writer" under "Occupation" on his passport application. Pezza has never been to a concert and not screamed "Freebird" at the top of his lungs. Follow him on Twitter @Dave_Pezza.

If any authors, writers, or musicians are interested in submitting a post for consideration, email admin@writersbone.com or tweet us@WritersBone.

For more writing playlists, check out our full archive. 

Haunted Playlist: Author Steph Post's 10 Songs Will Drive A Writer Mad

By Steph Post

This is not the soundtrack for my novel A Tree Born Crooked. I put that baby out on Largehearted Boy’s Book Notes series a few months ago. The novel soundtrack featured artists such as Rancid, Hank III, Reverend Horton Heat, and, of course, Tom Waits.

That was the playlist of Budweiser, pickup trucks, and cheap motels. Each song had a particular scene or character that it was perfectly matched to. This is the playlist of dreams. They are mostly instrumental songs because usually words get in the way of making words. These are the songs of late nights and early mornings. The songs meant for that space between reality and fantasy, which is the manna that writers feed on. Those liminal moments after the last glass, when the line between yourself and your characters blur. When anything is possibly, because you can make it possible. Even if you’re only lying on the floor with your headphones in, eyes closed, doors in your head opening. These are the song you are meant to give in to. The songs you listen to alone, so you can create a story for someone else.

Cat Power or Michael Hurley “Werewolf”

(Both versions are equally haunting) This is for the fairytales. For the archetypal fears that will bubble to the surface if we let them.

Alexandre Desplat “The Imitation Game”

This is for peeling back the layers on the characters wearing the masks. For seeing behind and beneath.

Dawn Mitchele “Float Like a Feather”

This is for trying to understand romance. For breaking it down into its most essential instance: vulnerability.

Trevor Morris “Messenger of War”

This is for the epics. For trying to dream on a grander scale.

Hans Zimmer “Coward”

This is for understanding what’s at stake. For putting two characters in a room, locking the door and letting it all play out from there.

Brandon Flowers “Only the Young”

This is for the moment of hope. For letting the heroes win.

Nine Inch Nails “The Hand that Feeds”

This is for the badass characters. The women who take no prisoners. The men who refuse to compromise. 

The Evolved “Theme from World War Z”

This is for urgency. This is for setting the story in motion.

Clint Mansell “Lux Aeterna”

This is for sadness. For saying goodbye. For the character who has to be sacrificed for the story.

Foo Fighters “Walk”

This is for screaming “fuck you” at the top of your lungs. To the critics. To the voices of doubt within yourself. To not having enough time or space or inspiration. This is the gauntlet thrown down in challenge.

May we all take it.  May we all slip on our headphones and dare to dream. And then dare even further to write.

Steph Post

To learn more about Steph Post, check out her official website, like her Facebook page, or follow her on Twitter @StephPostAuthor. Also check out our interview with the author.

If any authors, writers, or musicians are interested in submitting a post for consideration, email admin@writersbone.com or tweet us @WritersBone.

For more writing playlists, check out our full archive. 

When the Right Chord Strikes: Author Michael Farris Smith’s Shattering Playlist

From Ryan Bingham's music video for “Southside of Heaven”

Editor’s note: Last, but certainly not least, in this week’s debut series “The Writer’s Guide to Music” is author Michael Farris Smith (whose novel Rivers will be on my nightstand before the weekend starts). Be sure to go back and read Brian Panowich’s entry from Wednesday and David Joy’s post from Thursday. Again, if any authors, writers, or musicians are interested in submitting a post for consideration, email admin@writersbone.com or tweet us @WritersBone.—Daniel Ford

By Michael Farris Smith

Over the past five or six years music has become as much an influence on my writing life as anything. Why? Because great songs are filled with powerful imagery, emotion, and the complexities of the human spirit that we try to understand but can't. This is the same thing I do when I sit down to create story or character or scene. How real can I make it?

Great songs make it real. You feel them. You don't forget the striking lyrics, the emotional attachment. Part of my morning routine is drop off my little ones, ride around and listen to the handful of songs that are ringing in my head at the moment, come home and strum a couple, and then write. It's my favorite damn habit.

Here are 10 songs that have either stuck with me as an artist, or that have had big impacts on whatever I've been working on. Or are perfect for late nights and back roads. Or all of the above.

Martin Zellar “Ten Year Coin”

I started listening to Martin Zellar 20 years ago when he was with the Gear Daddies. This song has a lyric that stays with me just about every time I sit down to write or think about what might hide in the dark shadows of all my characters. It's so strong: "When I was younger I used to wonder what could ever bring a man to want to kill, and it scares the shit right out of me to admit that I don't have to wonder still."

Steve Earle “Goodbye”

Well, Earle is just a badass. But "Goodbye" is a stripped down song about longing, regret, the fragile nature of loss. "Goodbye" was in my head the entire manuscript of Rivers. I attached Cohen to this song and I suspect that character and novel and song will always sit together in my mind. 

Ryan Bingham “Southside of Heaven”

The coolest thing about Ryan Bingham? Two summers ago he played in Tupelo in this little bar that held about 200 people. This was right in the middle of a tour when he was playing to thousands. I thought it'd be a paired-down set, paired-down band, maybe play for about an hour. Instead, they crammed the entire band on this little stage, took shot after shot in front the audience, and ripped and roared for two hours like it was Austin City Limits. Love this song because: "When I die, Lord, won't you set my soul upon a train. Send it southbound, give some ol' blues man name."

Ben Nichols “The Last Pale Light in the West”

If you are a fan of Cormac McCarthy, and he has had a big influence on my work, then you'll dig Ben Nichols. This song comes from the same titled album, which is based on McCarthy's novel Blood Meridian. You feel the burned out landscape, burned out characters. I love this damn song late at night with only the headlights out in front.

The Civil Wars “Dust to Dust”

This is the other song that stuck in my head during Rivers. Because of this: "You've held your head up, you've fought the fight. You bear the scars, you've done your time." The song twists you up. And then the video was two lonely people wandering around Paris. The City of Light sits right beside Mississippi as the two places that have had the biggest mark on my work.

Pearl Jam “Wishlist”

I was 21 when “Ten” came out and holy shit. But I didn't let the band come and go. I've held on to Pearl Jam over the years. Last year I saw them in Memphis and kinda forgot how hard they bring it. Their songs also are full of notions of identity and individuality. "Wishlist" grabs all that. The first line: "I wish I was a neutron bomb, for once I could go off." I feel like that about every other damn day.

Sons of Bill “Joey's Arm”

I've only recently come to discover Sons of Bill and thank God I did. "When you don't fit in at church or bars, you bite your lip and you hide the scars." How could the son of a preacher not just get all tied up by that line?

Jason Isbell “Traveling Alone”

Isbell's “Southeastern” is an album I listen to over and over. Honestly, I've gotten suckered by the single like everybody else, but this album has reminded me what it means to listen to a full album, feel the themes, and really get to know an artist. "Traveling Alone" is like so much other stuff I dig. It haunts you, drains you. You feel its grasp for...something.

Drive-By Truckers “Outfit”

Bottom line is "Outfit" pretty much describes the people I know, the towns I grew up in, and the hard-working, hard-loving people I've been surrounded by my whole life. It's damn near everything I love about the South.

Drivin' N Cryin' “Straight to Hell”

Forget "Sweet Home Alabama." If you don't know "Straight to Hell" then you don't know the true Southern rock anthem. Every band I've played with, every bar I've played in, if you want everyone to get up and raise glasses, then strike up "Straight to Hell." Drivin' N Cryin' is probably the best Southern rock band you have never heard of. "She took my hand and we walked into the sun, a new day's promise had begun, we'll make it along whether you like it or not..."

Rock on.

Michael Farris Smith (Photo credit: Chris Jenkins)

To learn more about Michael Farris Smith, visit his official website, like his Facebook page, or follow him on Twitter @michael_f_smith.

For The Sake of the Goddamn Song: Author David Joy’s Drinking Playlist

Editor’s note: After you’ve recovered from the hangover brought on by David Joy’s post, be sure to go back and read Brian Panowich’s entry from Wednesday and tune in to Michael Farris Smith’s playlist on Friday. Again, if any authors, writers, or musicians are interested in submitting a post for consideration, email admin@writersbone.com or tweet us @WritersBone.—Daniel Ford

By David Joy

I’ll stand firm in by my belief that the proposal made by Writer’s Bone editor-in-chief Daniel Ford, to Brian Panowich, Michael Farris Smith, and myself, involved each of us going out and getting hammered and then coming up with a 10-song playlist amidst tossing empties from pickup windows, firing guns into the dead of night, and slurring the words to Jerry Jeff Walker’s “Up Against The Wall Redneck Mother.” However, judging by Brian and Michael’s responses, I might’ve misheard the instructions. Then again I very well might’ve been drinking when he told them to me.

Going back through the Twitter feed I reckon what we were supposed to do was to come up with 10 songs that inspire you to write, or keep drinking (me being much better at the latter than the former). In all honesty, I wish I had a song that I could listen to that’d get me in the mood to sit down and write. I wish I had some kind of organized routine, preferably one that involved a shot of bourbon and a giant gong, to kick start my lazy ass every morning, but the fact is I’m afflicted with that Raymond Carver-like fall into bad habits. “When I'm not writing, like now,” Carver said, “it's as if I've never written a word or had any desire to write.”

Drinking, on the other hand, now drinking I can do. So I stayed true to what I swear was Daniel’s original proposal, and I sat down and drank and sang myself into oblivion. So what we have here is some pour-a-tall-glass, hang-your-head-and-cry drinking music. Here’s to hoping nobody blows their brains out…

American Aquarium “Losing Side of Twenty-Five”

We’ll start this smile festival off with my life in a nutshell because I’ve been on that losing side of 25 for the past six years. This song goes out to all the pretty boys marrying pretty girls and posting pictures of their pretty kids on the Facebook every single day of our lives. Yeah, you wound up with a nice job and a nice house and you’ve still got a full head of hair, but let’s be honest, Big Cat, it’s like old Chris LeDoux said, “It ain’t the years, son, it’s the miles.” Besides, that baby of yours is ugly as hell, and we’re all sick to death of seeing him.

Sturgill Simpson “Old King Coal”

So if you ain’t on the Sturgill bandwagon by now then there probably ain’t much hope for you. I think Sturgill Simpson’s “Metamodern Sounds in Country Music” was for last year what Jason Isbell’s “Southeastern” was for the year before (likewise Chris Stapleton’s “Traveller” will be that album for 2015). But I’m pulling a song from Sturgill’s first album, “High Top Mountain,” because to date I think it’s the finest tune he’s recorded. You want to capture the sadness of the Kentucky coalfields in a nutshell, here you go:

“My great grandfather spent his days in a coal mine/his nights on the porch in a chair/Now he’s in heaven and down here in hell/the rivers run muddy and the mountains are bare.”

Drive-By Truckers “When The Pin Hits The Shell”

I can’t make a drunken playlist without at least one Drive-By Truckers song. I was torn between “Heathens,” “Outfit,” and “Goddamn Lonely Love,” but I came with this one because, well, this a tune for all us fuck ups.

“Me and you, we liked our pills and our whiskey /but you don't want your head full of either one when the house gets quiet and dark/Feeling good, it used to come so damn easy/racing trains from Second Street to Avalon/Take a trip down memory lane but you don't see no friendly faces/All the houses have been painted and nobody knows your name/It's enough to make a man not want to be nobody's daddy/Well, all he thinks he's got to lift his hand out is guilt and shame.”

The Honeycutters “Me Oh My”

Now, a lot of folks might not be familiar with The Honeycutters. They just released their third album and this tune is off of the new record by the same title. I think Amanda Platt is writing some of the finest lyrics being recorded and this just might be her at her best. If the first three lines don’t grab you by the short hairs then you can get the hell out of this conversation and go drink by yourself:

“I had a baby and the good lord took her/She was an angel but her wings were crooked/I guess he figured he could love her better than me.”

Elephant Revival “Season’s Song”

I’m going to put an Elephant Revival song on this list just because I think more people need to be listening to them. I remember feeling the same way after I heard them for the first time as I felt after hearing Cloud Cult, which is to say that they were doing something original and beautiful that didn’t really fit into any of the boxes that would have most folks paying attention. I mean they’ve got a gal with a gorgeous voice playing a crosscut saw for Christ’s sake. All that being said, I think this is one of the cleaner song’s they’ve written. So if you’re looking for any type of lightness in my playlist this’d be the one.

Josh Ritter “Lawrence, KS”

Now old Josh Ritter is definitely a writer’s songwriter. Hell, he’s even written a novel (Bright’s Passage). But this tune is one of my favorites. There’s a Steinbeck-esque, Grapes of Wrath kind of vibe about this song that I dig the hell out of, and you have to love that Nick Drake kind of soft sounding futility:

“Preacher says that when the master call us/He’s going to give us wings to fly/but my wings are made of hay and corn husks/so I can’t leave this world behind.”

Hayes Carll “Chances Are”

Hayes Carll has got a delivery that makes a man wonder if that son of a bitch couldn’t just haul off and play a show in his sleep. There’s an easiness to his voice that’ll catch a man off guard in what he’s saying. I think he’s one of the finest fellows writing music right now.

"Chances are I took the wrong turn every time I had a turn to take/I guess I broke my own heart every chance I had a heart to break/And it seems I spent my whole life wishing on the same unlucky star/But as I watch you across the barroom I wonder what my chances are."

Willy Tea Taylor “Rue The Day”

Stumbling onto Willy Tea Taylor gave me a similar feeling to the first time I ever heard Blaze Foley. There are very few people who can capture the type of sadness that Townes Van Zandt and Blaze were known for, maybe someone like Ryan Bingham comes to mind, but few other contemporaries. Willey Tea is the real fucking deal. If you’ve been there then he’s got lyrics that are going to hit home, this song being all of that in a nice three-and-a-half minute nutshell. I can sum that up in two lines:

“The bottles on the shelf know nothing about forgiveness/They’ll turn a man to sickness as he’s drowning in his shame.”

Chris Stapleton “That's the Difference Between Whiskey and You”

I said it months ago before the album dropped and I’ll say it again right now, Chris Stapleton’s “Traveller” will be the best debut album this year. We’ve had two heavy hitters come out of eastern Kentucky over the past two years with him and Sturgill, but Chris is bringing a bluesy-ness that hasn’t been present in country music in a long time. This whole album is stacked with tunes (my only beef with him being that he left “What Are You Listening To” off the album). Another one of my favorites is “Fire Away,” but I think this song will hang with me for a long time, a sentiment me and Brian Panowich share. If you want a drinking song, it doesn’t get much better than this, my friends:

“There’s a bottle on the dresser by your ring/and it’s empty so right now I don’t feel a thing/and I’ll be hurting when I wake up on the floor/but I’ll be over it by noon/That’s the difference between whiskey and you.”

Gillian Welch “I Dream A Highway”

We’ll end this here blow-your-brains-out playlist with a tune by Gillian Welch because I don’t think I’ve ever heard another woman aside from maybe Carlene Jones with the melancholic beauty of Townes. So pour those glasses tall, my friends, and polish off those bottles, because Gillian’s about to give us 14 minutes to ride this evening into oblivion.

Keep her between the ditches, my friends.

David Joy

To learn more about David Joy, check out his official website, like his Facebook page, or follow him on Twitter @DavidJoy_Author. Also check out our interview with the author and his novel’s appearance on Bruce, Bourbon, and Books.

Author Brian Panowich On How Musical Exploration Fueled His Writing

Van Halen's "Fair Warning"

Editor’s note: Last week, I noticed authors Brian Panowich, David Joy, and Michael Farris Smith having a lively discussion about music on Twitter and I butted in like a teenager looking to crash the cool kid’s table. I pitched them an idea for a post on writing and music and our new landing page The Writer’s Guide to Music was born. Since Brian’s entry landed in my inbox first, he has the honor of leading us off. Be sure to tune back in for David on Thursday and Michael on Friday. If any authors, writers, or musicians are interested in submitting a post for consideration, email admin@writersbone.com or tweet us @WritersBone.—Daniel Ford

By Brian Panowich

First of all, the entirety of my novel, Bull Mountain (due out July 7), sprang from the first line of The Band’s “Up On Cripple Creek.”

“When I get off of this mountain, you know where I wanna go…”

So knowing that, let me give you a little history behind my love affair with music and how it’s part of every word I write.

The first record I ever bought for myself was Van Halen’s “Fair Warning.” It scared the shit out of my mother, and although my father was deeply rooted in the Outlaw Country movement of the 1970s, I could still see the devil smiling through my old man as he watched his little boy try to get his head around something that would soon alter the rest of his life.

Eddie Van Halen and his band didn’t call that album “Fair Warning” for nothing. It was all sex, violence, excess, and debauchery. All the shit my mother had hoped to shield me from, but from that point on, it was off to the races. “Fair Warning” served as my gateway drug, leading me to my current state of being a hopeless musical addict, or as I like to think of myself, a musical explorer. I dig though copious amounts of regurgitation in search of my next obsession. I can never settle on default favorites. Sure, there are bands I love, and songs that I can compile into lists I consider to be the best stuff ever written, but I have a burning need to discover something new and challenging on par with my need to breathe, or eat. It gives purpose to my free time and more often then not saps my not-so-free time. 

I spent a lot of time in my youth trying to make music. Armed with three chords and the truth, I tried to channel the passion of Bruce Springsteen and the utter cool of Joey Ramone. The results were less than stellar. There’s a reason those two guys are who they are, but still, I used music as a way to pay the bills and separate myself from the herd. I called it a badge of honor back then, but realize now that it was more like a protective barrier that kept me safe and blind from the frightening world of adulthood. I liked being Peter Pan and I liked the heft of a Telecaster. It was a good life.

But goddamn it, everyone has to grow up at some point.

In the second act of my life, much like my father, I find my musical taste somewhere between Jennings and Jones (hat-tip to Jamey Johnson). It was a natural progression for me, like father like son, from the punch-in-the-face of rock-and-roll to the snide swagger of Americana and country.

Son Volt, The Drive-By Truckers, and similar artists, serve as the soundtrack to my current incarnation as a novelist. I don’t need music as a shield anymore. My skin is thick and worn. So now my music is more akin to a comfortable chair. A small plot in the universe I can sink into that exists just for me.

The funny part of that is I write in silence.

So to set the mood of whatever scene I’m fixin’ to dive into, I binge on whatever record I need to fuel it. Bull Mountain was written to a soundtrack as varied as it’s characters. Clayton Burroughs, my protagonist, was written to classic country songs by Waylon, Sturgill Simpson, Hank Jr., and Jamey Johnson. They helped me voice him. His brother Halford’s themes, on the other hand, were a little more brazen, like Whiskey Meyers, Skynyrd, and Blackberry Smoke. Another main player in the book, Simon Holly, wasn’t raised on Bull Mountain, so his soundtrack was equally as unique to him. Live and Northcote, Chuck Ragan, and the post-punk of Frank Turner helped me form his personality.

I built Clayton’s wife, Kate Burroughs (my favorite character in the book) directly out of Maria McKee’s unparalleled voice, and Brandi Carlile’s “Bear Creek” record. I even named the main waterway that cuts through Bull Mountain after that album. Like everything else in my life, Bull Mountain, the novel, wouldn’t exist without the music that inspired me to write it. It flows through the whole story.

David Joy once told me that the last chapter to his debut novel, Where All Light Tends To Go, was the closest he’d come in his life to writing music. I get that. For me, there is only a slight shift in pitch between the two mediums. It’s easy to see the influence through the genre as well. Look at all the thinly veiled references to Waylon Jennings and the Drive By Truckers in Bull Mountain, or in Frank Bill’s Donnybrook (What? You didn’t see them? Go look again). Whenever I read something like that, I feel like the author is speaking directly to me, like I’m in the club. And it’s fair to say, that feeling of inclusion is the best reason to read anything.

Every now and then I revisit that Van Halen album. I pull it out of the sleeve and listen to the vinyl pop under the needle, and just for a second I get just a brief glimpse of that little kid who thought his dad was made of steel and that girls were made of stars. But like some asshole said once, “You can never go home again.” So I march on, always looking for my next fix.

For those interested, check out the comprehensive playlist that inspired Bull Mountain. Maybe a line in one of these songs will inspire you to write a novel of your own.

Brian Panowich 
Photo credit: David Kernaghan

To learn more about Brian Panowich, visit his official website, like his Facebook page, or follow him on Twitter @BPanowich. His debut novel Bull Mountain, a southern crime saga, is available July 7, 2015 from Putnam Books. Look for our interview with the author closer to his Pub Day.

The Best Music of 2014

By Robert Masiello

By now, we have all heard the Grammy nominations, and we all know they are a joke as usual. So, for Writers Bone readers with more discerning taste than Grammy voters, I have assembled a breakdown of the year’s music.

Best Album: Grouper “Ruins”

This year, the prolific artist Liz Harris (who records as Grouper), released her masterpiece, “Ruins.” These six piano ballads, bookended by two ambient experiments, comprise the most moving album you will hear all year. A painstakingly lovesick work, “Ruins” explores the aftermath of a failed relationship with grace and poignancy. Each track has a certain majestic quality to it, but remains at a distance from the listener, like watching a deer from afar but never getting so close as to scare it away. Sure, there were albums this year that were more slickly produced, but none have the emotional resonance of “Ruins.”

Best Pop Song: Sia “Chandelier”

This one is a no-brainer. In recent years, Sia has transitioned from a quirky indie songstress to a highly sought after pop songwriter. But Sia fooled stars like Rihanna and David Guetta by saving her best track for herself. “Chandelier” is simply a monster single that showcases Sia’s soaring vocals. More than a ditzy party anthem, “Chandelier” chronicles self-destructive tendencies in a way that feels nearly apocalyptic. Sia vows to “live like tomorrow doesn’t exist,” but it’s a devastating sentiment not be confused with the tired YOLO slogan. Paired with a stark, stunning music video and a string of captivating performances on the late night TV circuit, “Chandelier” is the rare pop song that deserves to be remembered long after the year has passed.

Best Breakup Anthem: Lykke Li “Never Gonna Love Again”

Swedish songwriter Lykke Li got her heart broken, and she wants the world to know it. This track off her third album matches the weary intensity of breakup classics like “How Do I Live?” and “I Will Always Love You.” When Li recites the song’s title during the chorus, it’s less a resignation than it is a declaration. Li refuses to slip away quietly; “every time the rain falls, think of me” she tells her lover, promising to haunt him long after she fades from sight. Like all the best breakup songs, “Never Gonna Love Again” is shamelessly indulgent, and embarrassingly relatable.

Most Annoying Song: Taylor Swift “Shake it Off”

Props to T-Swift for being able to poke fun of herself. But even self-deprecation can’t save this relentlessly grating track. Haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate? Yes, yes we will.

Best Soundtrack to an Outer Space Dance Party: Objekt “Flatland”

This debut full-length from the young producer TJ Hertz sounds beamed in from another galaxy. While Aphex Twin’s return may have amassed the most hype this year, Objekt arguably produced the more cohesive album. These glitchy, rhythmic tracks are as fun as they are spooky. And the meticulous sonic details mean that this one is just as well suited to headphones as it is the dancefloor. Standout track “Second Witness” throbs like a warped 1980s power ballad before evanescing into the stratosphere.

Catchiest Chorus: QT “Hey QT”

At this point, “pop star” QT is still somewhat of a mystery. What we know for sure is that this track was produced by Sophie and A. G. Cook of the PC Music label. As for the singer herself (or himself?), the truth is less clear. Whatever the case may be, QT’s debut track “Hey QT” is ridiculously fun, and even more enjoyable for the disdain it has elicited from certain corners of the electronic music community. Do this track and other output from the PC Music label really herald the future of pop? Or is it all an elaborate hoax? Too soon to say, so just give in and enjoy it.

Album You Expected to Suck but Didn’t: Azealia Banks “Broke With Expensive Taste”

After countless delays and record label quarrels, you’d be forgiven for questioning if Banks would ever actually release her full-length debut. Well, she did, and what a slick product it is. Though some of these tracks have floated around for years, “Broke with Expensive Taste” manages to sound fresh and relevant. Even Banks herself, whose constant beefs with other musicians can grow tiring, had an intensely poignant moment in the wake of Ferguson. While some of us were convinced Banks was destined to remain in the shadows of 2(0)12, her comeback is welcome.

Best Ambient Album: Janek Schaefer “Lay-By Lullaby”

Many listeners might not have the patience for this one, but it’s an album of immense depth and subtle rewards. Using elements of drone, field recordings, and some acoustic instrumentation, Schaefer creates abstract soundscapes that seem to document decay. It begins with the sound of cars passing, a familiar noise that somehow begins to take on a threatening quality as the album progresses. It’s as if Schaefer is critiquing how cold and alienated modern life has become, as well as humans’ passivity. Like all the best ambient albums, “Lay-By Lullaby” is not mere background music, and deserves a listener’s full attention. 

10 Country Music Songs To Spark Your Creativity Y’All

By Daniel Ford

I’ve been on a country music kick ever since the Nashville episode of Dave Grohl’s “Sonic Highways.”

Songs about heartache, drinking, and loss fit perfectly with my recent efforts to develop a character who wears Army boots all the time, drinks Bud Lights with his brother, and spends a lot of time alone in cemeteries and diners.

Here are 10 songs with twang that are sure to send your creativity right to the honky-tonk:

“Colder Weather” by Zac Brown Band

Zac Brown got Dave Grohl to produce an album for Zac Brown Band even though the Foo Fighters’ front man had never heard of him. That’s impressive.

What I love about Brown and his band is that they embody exactly what country music should be: humanistic storytelling, pitch-perfect harmonies, and outstanding musicianship. Every country song should double as a short story. Every time I hear the above song, I crave a bourbon and the quiet end of a long, wooden bar.

“Jackson” by Johnny Cash and June Carter

I could have easily chosen “Ring of Fire” or “Folsom Prison Blues,” but this is the song that I typically gravitate to when I need an extra boost of creative fuel. The song is essentially the story of angry, fed-up lovers daring each other to walk away. It’s clear when you hear Cash and Carter sing this tune that neither one of them are going anywhere.

“Lost in the Fifties Tonight” by Ronnie Milsap

No one in music sounds like Ronnie Milsap. His voice is simply one-of-a-kind.

I can’t tell you how many times I listened to this song as a kid. It’s the perfect diner tune; it sounds exactly like something you would play on the jukebox while waiting for your greasy burger and fries.

In addition to providing the right mood for an angsty main character, this song would also be terrific as a first dance at a wedding. Brass band, big voice. It would be an epic slow dance people would remember.

“I Still Believe in You” by Vince Gill

Being a successful writer comes at a cost. It’s a lonely act that can occasionally come before the people you love most. This song serves as a reminder to take a moment, acknowledge the important people in your life, and allow them to feel a part of your creative process.  

Also, Vince Gill can fucking play the guitar. The man knows how to make music.   

“City of New Orleans” by Willie Nelson

How often do your creative neurons start go haywire when you travel? There’s something about a train, plane, or “rusted automobile” that inspires writing in a way few other things can. Willie Nelson’s “City of New Orleans” wakes that feeling up even if you’re standing still or sitting at your computer. It’s a tale of everyday life that can’t help but be optimistic despite its grim finale:

“But all the towns and people seem to fade into a bad dream/And the steel rails still ain't heard the news/The conductor sings his song again, the passengers will please refrain/This train's got the disappearing railroad blues.”  

I’m pretty sure the bad news is that the writer on board realized everything he or she just wrote in his or her notebook is crap.

“Check Yes or No” by George Strait

Struggling with a love story? Listen to this George Strait song and figure it out. It’s not that hard.

“If Drinking Dont Kill Me Her Memory Will” by George Jones

I think the title of this song is pretty self-explanatory. Try not to hurt yourself or others while listening to it.

“Kiss an Angel Good Morning” by Charlie Pride

The outfits in this clip alone should inspire you.

If that’s not enough, listen to this lyric on repeat:

“Kiss an angel good morning and love her like the devil when you get back home.”

 “Jolene” by Dolly Parton

Yeah, Jolene stole that guy.

“The Dance” by Garth Brooks

I’ll just cry myself out. 

The 10 Best Summer Songs of 2014

Enjoy the following music here.

By Robert Masiello

You know those people who say that summer is over after the Fourth of July? I want to punch those people. For Christ’s sake, I just finished digging my car out of the snowbanks a week or two ago. So even though the holiday has come and gone, here’s a playlist of 2014’s best summer songs.

“Don’t Tell ‘Em”

Remember Snap!’s early-1990s single “Rhythm is a Dancer”? Producers DJ Mustard and Mick Schultz have teamed with Jeremih and YG to spin it into a throbbing hip-hop jam. This re-do is, thankfully, neither kitschy nor self-important. It respects its source while thoroughly modernizing it and deserves to be a hit on its own terms, not solely for the nostalgia factor.

“Chandelier”

To those who don’t know better, Sia’s monster single “Chandelier” will be just another balls-to-the-wall party anthem. But listen closely, and it is easy to hear the deep pathos buried in her lyrics. This is not a track that glorifies partying. “I’m holding on for dear life, won’t look down, won’t open my eyes” she sings, teetering on the brink of sanity. Adding to the lyrical intensity is a killer hook that makes it possibly the best pop song since “We Found Love.” Oh, and did I mention that her vocal performance is one of the year’s best?

“Give Thanks”

Jamaican dancehall artist Popcaan’s debut full-length "Where We Come From" could have been an artistic flop destined for frat party soundtracks, but instead breathes life into the genre. While often inscrutable, the lyrics still convey empathy, and the beats are electrifying. “Give Thanks” is Popcaan’s tribute to the protective power of music that somehow transcends cliché. With smut like “Rude” by Magic! creeping onto airwaves, it’s easy to forget that reggae can have a heart like this.

“Can’t Do Without You”

If Caribou's previous album "Swim" found him transitioning from psychedelic pop to house and techno, new track “Can’t Do Without You” indicates that his upcoming album will continue that trend. The track is euphoric, and demonstrates that there is still magic to be found in sampling and repetition. Unabashedly blissful, Caribou’s latest would be equally appropriate at a sunny cookout or strobe-lit club.

“Do It Again”

Oh Robyn, we’ve missed you. Back after a four-year hiatus, Robyn still has the uncanny ability to break your heart and get your foot tapping at the same time. Her new collaborative mini-album with Royksopp is better than it has any right to be. Sometimes when an artist returns after a break, it feels like a desperate attempt to regain relevance. On the contrary, “Do It Again” will remind you why you loved her in the first place.

“Coffee”

Folk musicians Amelia Randall Meath and Nicholas Sanborn have joined forces to create the electro-pop duo Sylvan Esso. The resulting tunes are as warm and enveloping as one would expect from former folkies now dabbling in synths. On “Coffee,” Meath sings longingly about dancing with her partner, and the ambiance is all twilight and red wine. It’s a genuinely sexy song, best reserved for after the guests have left.

“Parade”

The Antlers, masters of sadness, on a summer playlist? First time for everything. This sublime cut off their latest LP "Familiars" begins at a deliberate pace before blossoming into a jazzy, soulful number. Songwriter Peter Silberman weaves a narrative that’s equal parts wistful and disconcerting, while his bandmates embellish the track with a triumphant brass arrangement. “All I know is, this year will be the year we win,” he bellows, and even though it’s hard to believe him, the best summers are often buoyed by a certain naïve optimism.

“Fruit Tree”

James Kelly used to be the frontman of the black-metal band Altar of Plagues, but his solo project WIFE has allowed him to explore his electronic and experimental leanings. Produced by The Haxan Cloak, WIFE’s debut LP "What’s Between" is a shadowy, often claustrophobic affair. But Kelly finds beauty and depth in the blackness. Penultimate track “Fruit Tree” is the album’s catchiest number, with a distinctly tropical vibe. In different hands, this song could be a pop smash. As it stands, it’s an oddball ditty that works because of, not in spite of, its ghostly production.

“Jerk Ribs”

Nothing brought you more joy than hearing “Milkshake” at a high school dance, but you have since forgotten about poor Kelis. While she will probably never be able to shake the one-hit wonder designation, Kelis has actually spent the past few years churning out respectable albums. Her latest release Food is cloaked in southern charm, with Kelis’ voice reaching expressive depths. It’s a shame that the rhythmic single “Jerk Ribs” won’t likely be a Top40 hit, as it would be a brilliant foil to the staid collection of songs currently topping the charts.

“You Can”

Whether or not you follow soccer (I don’t), I think we can all agree that World Cup songs are predictably dreadful. Tearjerker’s anthemic “You Can” would make an infinitely better World Cup song than anything Pitbull regurgitates. The track is an extended climax, ceaselessly building upon itself but never collapsing under its own weight. “You can’t bring it back, but you can make it last” the band howls, sounding more like a prayer than a chorus. It’s pensive, empowering, and irresistibly catchy.