Record #907: Jack M. Senff – These Northwood Blues (2021)

We interrupt your regularly scheduled Cure binge to clear out my extensive backlog (seriously, there’s still a MONO record waiting to be reviewed that I bought two years ago). And today, we revisit my friend Jack Senff with a look at These Northwood Blues, his second release under his given name.

His transition from emocore frontman to folk singer already seemed pretty realized with Boy Rex, but Good To Know You went so much further towards stripped, intimate songwriting that Boy Rex felt like indie rock. These Northwood Blues however takes it even further, adding earnest country western flavors into the space once occupied by bouncing lead guitar lines—and with brilliant results.

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Record #885: Jack M. Senff – Good to Know You (2019)

Allow me to introduce you to my friend Jack.

Around thirteen years ago, I met Jack as part of a group of local artists, musicians, and poets trying to build a more substantial creative community here in South Bend. I’m not sure how old he was at the time—in my mind, he couldn’t have been older than fifteen, always dressed like someone’s dad in ragged sweaters and giant glasses. At that point, his band Merchant Ships had already broken up, so when I found out a few years later that they had a pretty decent following online, it messed with my brain a bit.

In the years since, he’s helmed a number of projects, from William Bonney to Knola to Midwest Pen Pals, all offering various shades of intense emo. That is, until he took on the moniker of Boy Rex which offered a more intimate brand of folk rock. So intimate in fact that after a few releases, he felt it was more genuine to go by his given name instead.

And while this, his first record billed as Jack M. Senff, is a for all practical purposes a continuation of the Boy Rex project, there’s another level of introspection that can’t be explained entirely by the name change.

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Record #849: Harry Chapin – Greatest Stories Live (1976)

For most people, the career of Harry Chapin begins and ends with “Cat’s in the Cradle.” Some die-hards might also bring up “Six String Orchestra,” which was immortalized in a Muppet Show sketch, but Chapin’s place in the cultural consciousness doesn’t extend much past that.

But superfan that my father was, many of my earliest musical memories are centered around the folk singer. This album in particular would often stream out of the family stereo in our old house, my sister and I running and dancing and singing along. And while “30,000 Pounds of Bananas” carries the most specific memories (alongside “The Rock” from Portrait Gallery, which I remembered being on this disc), coming to Greatest Stories Live as an adult brings an appreciation for Chapin’s effortless storytelling that makes me realize my dad might have known what he was talking about.

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Record #800 – Elliott Smith – Elliott Smith (1995)

There have been hundreds of singer/songwriters that have put out stripped-down songs armed primarily with an acoustic guitar and their own voice. But even among such a crowded throng, Elliott Smith is celebrated as a truly unique voice.

And while Either/Or may be the album most people point to as his opus, the self-titled album that preceded it showcases a raw aesthetic, free of the baroque and powerpop leanings of later albums. And stripped down as it is, it maybe hits a little closer to the heart of Smith’s legacy.

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Record #714: James Taylor – Greatest Hits (1976)

In the summer of 2006, I was between my freshman and sophomore years of college. With no job and few friends left in my home town, I spent most of the summer driving across Michigan, crashing in friends’ living rooms (or kitchen floor, in one instance), occasionally happening on open mic nights or jam sessions or campfires where the acoustic guitar in my backseat would be of use.

My vehicle in those days was a late 90s Chrysler Town & Country that I inherited from my mom when she upgraded. The once mighty stock sound system was now neutered, its CD player rendered useless. Driving between cities, finding strong (and listenable) radio stations proved impractical.

All I had was a tape deck, and a garage sale copy of James Taylor’s Greatest Hits on cassette. Such was my soundtrack for that summer, and many months in between (it may have stayed in the deck as long as two years).

And while I usually pass on Greatest Hits compilations, when I found this the other day, I had to take it—and not just for the memories.

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Record #709: Dashboard Confessional – The Swiss Army Romance (2000)

While The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most was one of the albums that kickstarted my emo phase, The Swiss Army Romance is the one that cemented it. While I probably gave each of them equal play time in my Discman, Swiss Army was my clear favorite.

True, the two albums have nearly identical aesthetics, and the songwriting is of the same quality across both discs. But there’s something about the completely stripped down sonic palette of Swiss Army that makes these songs more effective than the full band treatments that would fill the track lists of later albums.

Dashboard’s main appeal was its rawness. These songs are almost too intimate to invite anyone else into, begging to be sung (or screamed) entirely on one’s own. And apart from a couple background voices, this album offers that rawness in a purer form than the project would ever attain again.

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Record #545: Melanie – Gather Me (1971)

When my wife and I started dating, we went through that phase every new couple goes through where you share mix CDs back and forth.

One of the mixes that she gave me included “Brand New Key,” a bouncing, Honky-Tonking raucous track led by Melanie’s powerful voice and a mischievous innuendo (the key is a…you know).

I found this record in a dollar bin years ago, and haven’t listened to it until now. And with that single as my only preview, I’m a bit surprised.

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Record #493: Damien Rice – O (2002)

I arrived at college as a scene kid freshman with a swoopy haircut, girl jeans, and a CD wallet filled with metalcore and emo albums.

Living in a dorm beside so many diverse music fans was a quick relief for that.

In the first few months, I was inundated with wonderful music that expanded my own tastes outward—many of those CDs still have a place among my favorite records. Artists like Sigur Rós, the Mars Volta, Imogen Heap and Frou Frou, Bright Eyes

And Damien Rice.

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Record #433: Bailey William and the Cherranes – Emerson (2015)

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Let me tell you a little bit about my friend Bailey Williams.
The first time we met, she was just 16. She was opening for a punk show, armed only with an acoustic guitar. She scraped the strings and wailed with the abandon that for a moment I felt like I took a trip to 1960s Greenwich Village.
She was a force of nature, and it was immediately apparent. It didn’t take long for her to enlist a band behind her. But there was some talk amongst the local scene that perhaps her storm would be tempered by the expansion in her soundscape—that it would tame her rawness to a more “palatable,” and lukewarm sound.
But then, they dropped Emerson.
Any worries that Bailey’s edges would be dulled by introducing more instruments are completely assuaged. This album is a storm of Moogs, electric guitars, and keyboards. And in the eye of the storm is Bailey and her acoustic guitar, playing with just as much grit and fire as she ever did.
Which isn’t to mean that this is an angry album. By no means. This is an album filled with great pop tunes and love songs. But there is a chaos to those songs that creates a consistently engaging and powerful listening experience.