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Eugene has been good to female, alt country musicians this year. The WOW Hall stage cradled Neko Case and Maria Taylor through their fantastic sets; on Dec. 3, it will do the same for Amy Millan.
Millan's been keeping musical secrets for almost a decade. While the '90s music scene was busy fashioning the next boy band and promoting girl power, Millan retreated to her room to write songs. Unfortunately, they wouldn't see the light of day for almost a decade. Instead, Millan focused her efforts on contributing vocals to Stars and Broken Social Scene. Now in her 30s, the Montreal-based singer-songwriter has finally put those early songs to work. In her solo debut, Honey From the Tombs, Millan recalls experiences and emotions of her early adult years, sung with the voice of an aged whiskey drinker. Like so many indie-turned-country musicians (ahem, Jenny Lewis), Millan has difficulty letting go of her pop sensibilities for alt country blues. But Millan has the bluegrass band Crazy Strings on her side. Living with the band for a brief stint no doubt influenced songs like "Losin' You" and "Ruby II," where she chooses acoustic guitar and lovelorn lyrics over the airy keyboards and muffled vocals found in her other projects. But Millan hasn't rejected pop music completely. The stand-out track, "Headsfull," sounds more Liz Phair than Patsy Cline. "I wanted to make a record that had a through line between pop music and old country music. And I was constantly in a battle with myself because I had these two different kinds of songs that I would write," Millan says in the album's press materials. If "Headsfull" and "Wayward and Parliament" are any indication of the ways Millan can fuse the two genres, then the battle is won. Both songs challenge listeners' expectations by experimenting with instrumental breaks, fuzzy guitar and ambient noise, a far departure from her other songs that run slow as honey. The lyrics from Millan's album sound very post-breakup. But the difference between Millan's lyrics and that of every other artist who writes about love is that hers are timeless and relatable in a generic sense. A great song isn't always about complicated explanations of feelings; artists generally come off sounding pretentious. But lyrics like "Sometimes I feel like my only friend is a whiskey glass / you know it don't stop the time but it helps it pass" — now that's something to raise your glass to.
There must have been some fear in the Drag City camp that Joanna Newsom's latest effort, Ys (pronounced "ees"), would bankrupt the Chicago-based indie-record label. It seems obvious: When you employ the most influential producer in indie rock history, Steve Albini; one of the most sought after producers/musicians in avant-garde pop and experimental music, Jim O'Rourke; and one of the most revered songwriters in American music, Van Dyke Parks, to assist in creating an album for a modest folk harpist from Northern California, well, you're taking a monolithic financial risk. I don't have the ledgers to back up my assumptions, but all of this could not have come cheap and without some trepidation. This is how I think the marketing meetings for Ys went down — "Each track is 10 minutes long! How the heck are we going to market a five song, 55 minute long album? How are we even going to pay Van Dyke?!" But this is the beauty behind Drag City: For the label, art is worth the risk. And this is the beauty behind Joanna Newsom: Ys is one of the most breathtakingly gorgeous records of my generation. The harp in itself is a pretty rarified instrument, absent from almost all popular music. Coupled with Newsom's unique, almost unbridled singing style, this has the potential for some fairly inaccessible music. But beneath all the baroque stylings of Ys, there's a gentle young woman plucking delicately and singing with an earnest appeal that's passionate yet courteous about her time to share a few stories. Newsom has an almost inhuman ability to articulate certain syllables in a way that can be compared to the squeak created when air is pushed across a slip of plastic, which enhances the fervent honesty in her voice. Even with the hovering orchestral accompaniment (conducted and co-arranged by Parks), there's a grounded, campfire feel to Ys, especially behind one particular verse toward the end of "Emily" where the banjo and jaw-harp conjure a lilting, pastoral warmth. As a lyricist, Newsom stands unrivaled. From her fable of the shrewd monkey and the conflicted bear ("Monkey & Bear") to the heartbreaking dynamics of love and lust detailed in "Only Skin," Newsom's lyrics are both poetic and completely lucid. While some lyricists manage color with elliptical, self-reflexive lines, Newsom creates beautiful detail through vivid stories and a limitless vocabulary. It's fitting that Drag City released Ys now; it's a gracious holiday gift. The label has had some fine moments, but Newsom's Ys is its grandest and best.
Angels and Giants
Fans of the charmingly accessible punk band Blink 182 will no doubt have heard of Angels and Airwaves, the new Tom DeLonge band ("It's not a project," according to their website) featuring buddies gleaned from The Distillers and The Offspring. AAA's broody, war-themed album, We Don't Need to Whisper, is getting good reviews, but also getting tons of radio play, so rather than rehash it here when you can just listen to KNRQ, I thought I'd put in a plug for their opening act, a sassy L.A. quartet called Under the Influence of Giants (UTIOG). Their name is a tribute to the amazing range of musicians they pay homage to throughout their debut album, from Talking Heads to George Michael to the Beatles. Catchy? Yes. Cliché? No. UTIOG's clean sound and monster hooks go beyond the sincerest form of flattery, taking the derivative of four young lifetimes worth of music and multiplying it by the sum of four innovative musical intellects to produce a colorful, fun, instantly likeable set of tunes. It's like the Volkswagen Jetta of albums. UTIOG's album can start an impromptu dance party, so I can only imagine their live show is sure to move bodies and satisfy fans of fellow modern-genius-fusion band Scissor Sisters, to whom their funky, periodically falsetto sound is sure to be compared. They're both an odd and a perfect choice to open for Angels and Airwaves, which is bound to draw a somewhat schizophrenic crowd. Both bands are doing their part to put the brains back in pop music, so whether you want to groove to synthesizers or agonize to rock ballads, be sure to listen closely. Angels and Giants want you to learn something. Angels and Airwaves and Under the Influence of Giants play the McDonald Theater at 8 pm Wednesday, Dec. 6. $22.50 adv., $25 door. — Adrienne van der Valk
Sludgy Rock Nazareth, Pennsylvania — according to a 2000 census, the population of Nazareth was 6,023; that's peanuts. You know what this biblically eponymic town is famous for? The Nazareth Speedway, a one mile tri-oval track used for Indy car racing. There's also a deeply rooted music legacy in Nazareth as it has been the home of Martin guitars for over 150 years. It should come as no surprise then, coupling its music tradition with its good 'ol boy racing pedigree, that Nazareth has also spawned Drag City rockers Pearls & Brass. Hot off the heels of their early '06 release, The Indian Tower, Pearls & Brass appear in Eugene alongside locals Dan Jones and the Squids and Salem's Millrace. Full of crunchy, Queens of the Stone Age style riffage but with a much sharper freedom rock gleam à la Steppenwolf and a frenetic pace highly reminiscent of the Fucking Champs, the brawn behind The Indian Tower totally belies the band's sissy name. Think Wolfmother but with much more grime and sludge; the best description I can think of is glue-huffin' rock. Pearls & Brass play with Dan Jones & the Squids and Millrace at 10 pm Thursday, Nov. 30 at Luckey's. 21+ show. $3-$5. — Steven Sawada
What's All the Fuss About?
Let's say that you're four years old, a good Catholic kid, and your parents take you to a performance of Gian Carlo Menotti's Amahl and the Night Visitors. Then you listen to the recording of it over and over and over and over and over again for years, retro-headphones (before they were retro) perched on your ears, until you have memorized the entire operetta. The words and music will never, ever go away, even when you grow up and realize that fairy tales aren't real. Whenever you hear someone say, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" you want to sing, "Oh, thank you" just like King Kaspar. And when you see that the Eugene Concert Choir is staging Amahl, you are seriously tempted to go. See, there's this starving disabled boy who tends to fabricate stories. There's his devoted mother who's fed up with his lying and with her lot in life. Then there are the three kings. If you had a jot of Christian religious education, you'll know who the three kings are. But you've never seen them like this; the song "This is My Box," both hilarious (if you're a child) and creepy (as you get older), humanizes trade routes and royalty, while the "Shepherds' Dance" (in this case to be performed by the Dance Theater of Oregon) might charm a hungry child but revolt the blood of a young Marxist. There's the "Have you seen a child the color of wheat" song that makes parents weep, and there's the joyful … oops, almost gave away the ending. The kings have gold, frankincense and myrrh for the child (Oh, excuse me: the Child, just in case you didn't know Whom I meant), but what can poor Amahl give the Kid? Hm. I wonder what will happen to Amahl's disability. Anyway, after the joyful bit comes the tearful parting in which a boy living around the year zero agrees to brush his teeth every night, and then everyone feels miraculous and blessed and goes home singing. What's not to love? Amahl and the Night Visitors plays at 2:30 pm Sunday, Dec. 3 at the Hult Center. $16-$29. — Suzi Steffen
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Everybody
Raise a Glass
