americana

Record #908: Jack M. Senff – Low Spirit (2022)

/ Nathaniel FitzGerald

I’ll admit that I’ve had a hard time with Americana for the last several years. After Bright Eyes, Bon Iver, Fleet Foxes, and the like sent me deep into my own folksy singer-songwriter phase in college, the deluge of Stop&Holler copycats flushed my system. Especially after getting into Krautrock, post-punk, post rock, metal, and various other less middle-of-the-road scenes, it felt like the limited frameworks of traditional singer-songwriter music didn’t have much to offer my limited attention.

But every once in a while, I’ll come upon a really great songwriter that makes me remember what the appeal of stripped sonic palettes and subdued performances were in the first place. Case in point, Jack M. Senff, who spent years playing in various loud and exciting projects before settling into his most natural form.

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Record #797: Black Swift – See Me Human (2017)

/ Nathaniel FitzGerald

When you release a record produced by a legend like Sylvia Massy, you run the risk of undermining your previous releases. When the core of your musical essence is uncovered and enhanced by such a skilled architect, it might make the releases before that feel cluttered and unfocused.

Might is the keyword there, especially in the case of Black Swift’s See Me Human, which I’m coming to backwards from their fantastic Desert Rain EP. While it doesn’t have the sonic clarity that Massy brought to that disc, See Me Human has the same passionate songwriting and raw rock and roll, giving it more than enough clout to stand on its own.

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Record #780: Low – C’Mon (2011)

/ Nathaniel FitzGerald

On paper, slowcore giants Low don’t seem like the most obvious candidates for an Americana album. This is especially true for those of us who came to the band through the glitchy, atmospheric noise project Double Negative and worked their way backwards through their sparse soundscapes.

And while this album and Double Negative are as dissimilar to one another as anything else in the Low catalog, C’Mon delivers the same sort of minimalist compositions, just augmented by lap steels, fiddles, banjos instead of effects pedals and synthesizers.

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Record #764: Dustin Kensrue – Carry the Fire (2015)

/ Nathaniel FitzGerald

The one thing that truly set Thrice apart from the throngs of other early-to-mid -00s post-hardcore bands was the ability of lead singer Dustin Kensrue to craft great choruses. Even at their moshiest, there was a pop sensibility that displayed a deep appreciation for blues, folk, and classic R&B that demanded singalong.

Even as they’ve expanded their sonic palette to incorporate elements of post rock, sludge metal, and electronica, his love of roots music has remained central. Beggars may be the only album in history to cite both Isis and Billie Holiday as influences.

With this in mind, longtime Thrice fans should find no surprises in his 2015 solo record Carry the Fire, a relatively subdued pop record that finds him embracing these elements without the need for hardcore catharsis.

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Record #745: Jason Isbell & the 400 Unit – Reunions (2020)

/ Nathaniel FitzGerald

Country music gets a bad rap. Admittedly, much of the vitriol is deserved, especially in the sanitized, cookie-cutter blandification of the Nashville-churned pop country that has come to dominate the genre.

But even the most scathing and accurate criticisms of country music fall flat in the face of Jason Isbell.

When I was first introduced to Isbell, I heard someone call him “your favorite songwriter’s favorite songwriter.” His prowess was likened to legends like John Prine and Bob Dylan. Those are impossibly high standards, but his 2020 album Reunions somehow lives up to them.

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Record #681: Better Oblivion Community Center – Better Oblivion Community Center (2019)

/ Nathaniel FitzGerald

Few songwriters are as prolific and profound as Conor Oberst. In fact, it was his album I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning that first convinced me of the power of a songwriter and an acoustic guitar (and turned me from a punk rocker to a folk singer for a few years in college).

Outside of his work with Bright Eyes, though, nothing has grabbed me. Desaparecidos was a great punk band, but that’s never what I listen to him for. The one-off supergroup Monsters of Folk was a supreme disappointment (apart from “Dear God”). The Mystic Valley Band was pleasant enough, but failed to make much of an impression.

But then there’s Better Oblivion Community Center, his songwriting duo with the equally profound and prolific Phoebe Bridgers, which is his best work in almost a decade.

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Record #674: Jackson Browne – Saturate Before Using (1972)

/ Nathaniel FitzGerald

Creating the perfect debut record is a difficult task. It needs to capture a compelling snapshot that introduces them to the world while also fitting their potential in the same frame. Debuts are often youthful, packed with the ambition of an artist with something to prove.

But on his own debut, Jackson Browne seems to skip all that, starting instead in the middle of a respectable career.

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Record #564: JD Wright – Lake Effect (2018)

/ Nathaniel FitzGerald

A few weeks ago, my friend Ryan Kerr played in my living room with some friends he was touring with.

One of those friends was JD Wright, a singer/songwriter from Detroit who grew up in a small coastal town overrun with tourists.

And as he played alone and unamplified in my living room, that sort of small-town disillusionment was the loudest part of his performance. But on record, he’s joined by a full band that puts some volume to his disenchantment—and with excellent results. Continue reading →

Record #481: Kurt Vile – Smoke Ring For My Halo (2011)

/ Nathaniel FitzGerald

smoke ring for my halo.jpg

Among the masses of hipsterdom, the pantheon of Americana has long been dismissed as “dad rock.” Uncool, out-of-touch, and pedestrian. It’s to be expected: indie rock has always been rooted in a sort of iconoclasm. It’s imbued with a rejection of establishment practices and the conventions of commercial music.

Then, like a bolt of lightning across the night sky, a two-headed beast reached out of Philadelphia and grabbed Dad Rock by the shoulders and pulled it toward itself.

The beast’s heads were Kurt Vile and Adam Granduciel.

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