Iron & Wine - Kiss Each Other Clean

Upon a first casual listen of Kiss Each Other Clean, fourth full-length record from Sam Beam – the mastermind behind Iron & Wine, Beam’s claims that it was inspired by memories of radio tunes from the 60s and 70s are immediately justified.
The record’s mellow first track, ‘Walking Far From Home’, opens with the sounds of air traffic which, along with later xylophones, create the perfect distancing backdrop to a Homeric catalogue of observations.
His use of instrumentation throughout is inspired. Edgy and restless ‘Monkeys Uptown’ is greatly enhanced by the synthesised space-age jazz-funk (it works, I promise you) that runs through it. The Spanish guitar in ‘Godless Brother In Love’ drops its notes into the song in such a honeyed fashion that it sounds almost harplike.
Yet nowhere does this cunning use of instruments surface more than in ‘Rabbit Will Run’, a pacey track, lyrics filled with the concept of the natural instinct to run and of individual approaches to escape. The music mirrors this with bizarre, birdlike whistling, distorted guitar and, above all, something remarkably close to the Lion King soundtrack running throughout.
Although certain songs do indeed resemble the airwave-friendly pop of bygone decades, Beam’s ability to paint pictures with words adds layers to the work, with intriguing lines such as “When the arrogant goddess of love came to steal my shoes...” leading into the twisting narrative of vivid mini-stories. Often a sinister tone underpins seemingly breezy tracks, such as ‘Tree By The River’ where teenage nostalgia is juxtaposed with grotesque images of teeth and bones.
Religious references, another expected feature in Beam’s work, are also present in this new LP, with the persistence of prayer and its forms as a minor feature in ‘Rabbit Will Run’. ‘Me And Lazarus’, religious references in its very title, sounds almost like a gospel song with its groovy rhythm and use of saxophone.
The one slight disappointment is closer ‘Your Fake Name Is Good Enough For Me’, which starts off as a thrilling, rapid, and energised piece, driven by a brass band and squeakily distorted electric guitar. Yet it, like the first track, is a catalogue, this time of contrasting pairs such as “the sinner and the saint” and “the glory and the guilt”, which drags on interminably until fading under a musical cacophony.
Nevertheless, from its intricate narratives right the way through to the Quentin Blake-esque peacocks littered on the album artwork this album is a weird and wonderful delight.

Funeral Party - Golden Age of Knowhere

Hearing the gritty, angst-filled debut album from Funeral Party, you would never guess that it sprang to life not far from the glamorous celebrity world of Los Angeles. Unlike their glitzy neighbours, the people of Whittier were faced with a listless, dull existence, and countered it with a backyard party movement, spawning a new age of bands who provided live music. Thus the Golden Age of Knowhere was born.
The frustration and overpowering desire to stand out is tangible, with intense, shouty vocals dominating the record. Hit track ‘New York City Moves To The Sound Of LA’, which got the band noticed, opens up the record with throbbing bass, clanging percussion and distorted electric guitar, building to Chad Elliott, backed by a chanting choir, hollering ‘New York City loves to mess around with the LA sound’. This is tipped to be an indie dance hit on this side of the pond.
The stand out track, however, has to be ‘Car Wars’. True to its name, the song starts and finishes with sci-fi beeps and echoing synths, sandwiching an anthemic rock proclamation about escapism. All the while the space music prevails in the background.
The promising start sadly dwindles as the album progresses. In the penultimate track (of this 12-track LP!) Elliott finally alters his vocal tone, bringing a huge sense of relief to the listener. ‘Relics and Ruins’ is a raw piece with the gentler vocals creating a true sense of loss, although the aah-ing treads dangerously close to indie-pop territory.
The music, too, can be a little on the generic side, with ‘Postcards of Persuasion’ fading into forgettable buzz. The final song, title-track ‘Golden Age of Nowhere’ is a typical indie rock move, with atmospheric bird and nature sounds forming an intro, although the brilliantly insistent drum beat and oddly effective sporadic statements of ‘Here We Are’ as the music fades save the song.
The lowest point has to be ‘Giant Song’, where an exciting, thumping intro and verse – resembling indie dance anthems by the likes of The Cribs – is betrayed by a dismal chorus of narcissistic wailing over what could potentially have been a powerful, stomping rant.
Nevertheless, rousing lines such as “We are the voices under the tracks, drawing you forward, pushing you back” in ‘Finale’ stick with you; and intelligent song concepts like that of ‘Just Because’ as he progresses from being trapped towards liberation give this album notable highlights, and shows that this band has promise.

Tallest Man On Earth - Sometimes The Blues Is Just A Passing Bird

Five-track EP Sometimes The Blues Is Just a Passing Bird is the fourth instalment from Tallest Man On Earth, stage-name of conventionally-proportioned Swede Kristian Matsson. Drawing on inspiration from touring 2010 full-length album “The Wild Hunt” he is determined that this should be seen as a separate work in and of itself. Although the initial impression is of a bare-bones corpus, the sheer honesty and earnest tone of the lyrics invite a great intimacy with this singer-songwriter. Lines such as ‘Why am I not strong like the wheel that will carry you home?’ in Like The Wheel are compelling in the genuine feeling being expressed. The connection audiences felt with this song is evident from its viral spread after gigs. Self-reflecting The Dreamer is intensified by the blues-style minimalistic electric guitar in its single appearance on the EP. Although Matsson’s highly unusual and edgy vocals take a little getting used to, you quickly come to appreciate its exceptional quality.