Megan’s Top 25 of 2009: 10-6

And here we are already, at the bottom half of the top ten. Here was where I found myself struggling the most to put a number next to a record, they’re all so very wonderful. Here we have both some saucy and some sorrowful Scots, some lively Louisianans, some nifty New Zealanders, and some wandering nomads of wonder. A seriously special group, I must say.

Do a little research and you might be a little surprised to discover that historically, New Zealand has a pretty darn good track record when it comes to putting out really great bands (The Clean, Look Blue Go Purple, The Chills, and The Bats to name a scant few). In keeping with the tiny nation’s tendency to churn out bands with a skillful blend of punk-pop seasoned with a decidedly English flavor, we now present Cut Off Your Hands at #10. They stick with the New Zealand tradition of musical Anglophilia, making You and I one heck of a delightful record. The record starts off big, with single “Happy As Can Be,” as good an opening impression as you could hope for. Big and bold, it sets the tone immediately and you know right away that you’re in for a treat. These charming boys are indebted to Brit stalwarts like Marr & Morrissey, and you’ll probably hear shades of The Smiths hither and thither, with a youthful edge. You’ll also hear some of the catchiest songs you’ve heard in quite some time, namely the “Expectations”-“Oh Girl”-“Turn Cold” triumvirate, joined a few songs later by the pairing of “Let’s Get Out of Here” and “Still Fond”. All of them are unavoidably addictive. They can even do a damn fine ballad, with the sentimental “Nostalgia” being one of my favorite songs on the record. So grab that special boy or girl and hold ‘em close, and fall in love with Cut Off Your Hands while you’re at it.

mp3: It Doesn’t Matter (Cut Off Your Hands from You and I)

I’ve recently heard My Maudlin Career called one of the best heartbreak albums of pretty much ever. While I’ll refrain from casting my vote one way or the other on that particular heart-wrenching subject, I will say that Camera Obscura made one of the best records of 2009 (#9, to be exact). The strength of Camera Obscura to me lies in their eternally sweet sound, bolstered by the perfectly weary yet still lovely vocals of Miss Tracyanne Campbell. It’s not easy to make sad sound so sugary, but Camera Obscura manages just fine. “French Navy,” the first track on the record, is one of my favorite songs of the year, and easily one of the most danceable, what with the jangle of the tambourine and jaunty attitude. And the wistful irony of “The Sweetest Thing,” with the lyric, “You challenged me to write a love song/Here it is/I think I got it wrong”. Hope you’ve got a box of Kleenex handy. “You Told a Lie” features vocals so fragile it sounds like our heroine is on the verge of tears as she delivers the lines. And so it goes, on and on, song after song of woeful, painful, beautiful misery. If it’s not the best heartbreak album ever, it’s certainly near the top of the heap. Hey Lloyd, they were ready to be heartbroken, and they certainly got what they asked for. They got heartbreak, and we got a great record.

mp3: Swans (Camera Obscura from My Maudlin Career)

Moving away from broken hearts but staying in Scotland, may I present #8 on the Top 25, otherwise known as The Phantom Band’s Checkmate Savage. I’ve likened them to British Sea Power with a brogue, and I think given their propensity for sonic experimentation and oft-bizarre lyrics it’s not such a bad comparison. Right away this isn’t your usual rock album, as the Phantoms go in for expansive sounds and wacky noises, and actual howling in “The Howling”. “Folk Song Oblivion” is just that, a slight hint of an acoustic guitar layered upon with structured guitars and oftentimes monotonous vocals, making for yet another interesting effect. Like British Sea Power, The Phantom Band doesn’t shy away from long, rambling songs, with four songs clocking in over six minutes each. My favorite song on the record, “Halfhound,” is a fierce, forceful track interspersed with gentler moments of light, before plunging back into darkness. Checkmate Savage is wild and wooly and dark and completely, wonderfully insane. And I love it to pieces. This is definitely a band I’m dying to see live, because I need to visualize how this crazy bastard of a record was made. So dearest darling Phantom Band, please make it happen.

mp3: Throwing Bones (The Phantom Band from Checkmate Savage)

Switching gears once again, it’s time to visit my absolute favorite group of Louisianans, the good people of Generationals. My #7 record is their ever-so-excellent Con Law, otherwise known as the aural equivalent of a little ray of sunshine. Formed by Grant Widmer & Ted Joyner (and some amigos) of the now-defunct and greatly missed indiepop outfit The Eames Era, Generationals will light up the darkest of days, guaranteed. They’ve made a record that made me grin uncontrollably the first time I heard it, a grin that reappears during every subsequent listen. Something about listening to Con Law makes me want to jump in the car, go somewhere sunny and warm, and drive around blasting the album with my sunroof open and the windows down, drinking in the sunshine. “Angry Charlie” is my favorite I’d have to say, but each and every song on this record is divine, so well-produced and beautifully, gleamingly clean (but not overly so, mind you). It’s the perfect album to listen to and long for Summer (as I look out my window to a view of an endless blanket of cold, cold snow). Even the substance abuse-themed “Bobby Beale” sounds light and freshly summery, though the subject matter is anything but. So take heed, while enjoying the lovable musical stylings of Generationals, because as they so lyrically and wisely put it, “Everyone’s a dime a dozen/Everyone’s a wolf in waiting”.

mp3: Exterior Street Date (Generationals from Con Law)

They missed the top 5 by a hair, and the top spot by just a few hairs. But at #6, These United States is still one of the loves of my musical life. Having proved their musical chops over the course of two previous records, Jesse Elliott and company reappeared for yet another go at musical superiority. The fruits of their labors this time around is the most excellent Everything Touches Everything, both a thought to ponder and an album to really fall in love with. Opening track “I Want You to Keep Everything” is another of my overall favorites from 2009, a bit unexpectedly poppy coming from the These United States camp, but a very welcome song indeed. Continuing on, Everything Touches Everything ends up being a record you might have expected from These United States. It’s full of their utterly disarming, rustic simplicity, be it in the form of acoustic or slide guitars, and Elliott’s rambling and ambling and occasionally obtuse (though always fantastic) lyrics. “We’re going out/With our hearts strapped across our chests,” Elliott boldly proclaims in the titular track, and somehow you can picture Jesse venturing forth, red heart pinned to his chest to boldly face the unknown. Somehow, though it jumps all over the place, the album never loses its cohesion, or ceases to follow the tried and true TUS blueprint. Perhaps that IS the TUS blueprint, come to think of it. And what a good plan it is.

mp3: Night & The Revolution (These United States from Everything Touches Everything)

Live Review: Cut Off Your Hands @ Iota, June 5, 2009

I have to say, Cut Off Your Hands is rapidly becoming one of my bands of the year. Having seen them at South by Southwest and at the Black Cat already, I happily drove up 95 for another chance to see some of my favorite Kiwis. Below is the review I wrote for RVA, with photos graciously provided by Adam Kissick.

"“Oh shit,” was the horrified, wide-eyed sentiment collectively chorused by New Zealand’s rising stars Cut Off Your Hands when they learned I was reviewing their performance at Iota, opening for Viva Voce. “What are you gonna say?” they all frowned and fretted, and were genuinely relieved when I promised kind words would be imparted. I wasn’t just giving them lip service, either. A Cut Off Your Hands show, regardless of whether or not you catch them after staying out entirely too late in New York the night before, will always be pretty darn great, no two ways about it.Trust me, I’ve already seen them thrice this year, and would gladly see them a dozen more times if I could.

Despite mouthpiece Nick Johnston’s wary disclaimers about the band’s NYC indulgences, you’d just about never know the band was the least bit tired (well, save for maybe a dark under eye circle hither and yon). The audience, which was a bit on the small side for a Friday night crowd in Arlington, was treated to a solid, if a bit short-ish, eight song set. As much as I love them on record, I’m convinced that COYH is an even better live band. Their exuberant, bright-eyed pop with bite is even more animated, more robust, and more appealing, not to mention of course that the boys themselves are ever so charming in the flesh.

They began the set with one of my favorites, “You & I”, a shouty, frenetic firecracker perfect for kicking things off. A trio of high-energy, catchy as can be songs followed: “It Doesn’t Matter”, “Oh Girl”, and “Turn Cold”. The first line of drinker’s delight “It Doesn’t Matter” seemed perfectly apropos on this night (“I woke up drunk once again this afternoon”), a case of life imitating art, perhaps. The sweeping, grandiose single “Happy As Can Be” was up next, and once again the band didn’t disappoint. I’m a not-so-closeted fan of a good ballad, so when the opening chords of “Nostalgia” started coming from the stage, I inwardly squealed like a fluttering-hearted schoolgirl. O, the crooning, the gentle strum of Jono’s guitar, the “oooooh” choruses. It was a dreamy, languid moment amongst a sea of delirious dizziness. Naturally, the lovely ballad was followed by one of the most danceable songs in the Cut Off Your Hands catalog, “Let’s Get Out of Here.” The summery ode to careless youthful abandon got quite a few of the increasingly less and less stoic Arlingtonians dancing (ever-so-slightly, of course). The last song, “Still Fond”, came much too soon, and just like that it was over. The boys left the stage to fairly enthusiastic cheers, including hearty hollering from the khaki-clad contingent sitting near me at the bar, and I’m pretty sure they won themselves several new fans. My one complaint was the omission of their bitchin’ cover of Split Enz’s “Shark Attack”, which when confronted with my displeasure all four vigorously assured me next time it would be back on the setlist.

After the show, as we kicked it with some drinks, I asked the band to sum up the show in one word. Nick, who was so (unnecessarily) apologetic even after a thumbs-up set, went for “hungover.” A somewhat glazed-over Phil, bassist extraordinaire, needed some time to marinate, eventually settling on “Shock Top.” Not being a beer connoisseur (hard liquor, if you please), I initially thought he was trying to stump me with some Kiwi slang I wasn’t familiar with. Only later on did I come to find he was referring to the pint in front of him. Jono, the somewhat quiet and rather tall guitarist, asked if we could throw proper grammatical caution to the wind for his answer, which was “reallyfuckinggood.” I’m definitely in agreement with him on that point, run-on and all. And Elroy, the delightful new drummer, chose the Zen-like “content” for his summation. Bottom line, though, we were all pretty much on the same page. It was a damn fine show.

All in all, the evening was well worth the $40 parking ticket left for me by the overzealous Arlington parking patrol. Perhaps if they’d seen Cut Off Your Hands, they’d have been in too good a mood to dole out infractions."