Chris Velan - Glow

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Maturity can be cool. The years etch us with wisdom lines, and if we’re lucky carve us into a more refined, smarter, stronger, more honest human being. This is the arc of Chris Velan’s catalog, music of slowly mounting maturity and hard won life lessons, especially in matters of the heart. With an even-hand and open eyes, Velan peels back the layers on the good and bad in how people connect (or disconnect). What’s revealed is tenderizing, moving, and a catalyst for loving others and ourselves.

“All your life you waited for the right wind to blow you/ You can’t decide/ So you lay down with the stars to show you/ If I’m wrong, I’m wrong/ If I’m right I will never say that I told you/ If I lose, I lose/ And if I win I will blow all my winnings on great new beginnings.”

Velan’s sixth studio effort, Glow, is what I wish greeted me every time I switched on the radio, a melodically and lyrically sharp sound that’s simpatico with the compelling craftsmanship of Neil Finn, Paul Simon, and Nick Lowe. This is stylistically varied pop-rock that moves so seemingly effortlessly that it’s easy to miss just how tied together everything is, one of those albums one can throw on anytime they need good songs gracefully delivered in a voice that could charm birds off a tree.

Glow weaves Velan’s rock with colorful strands of reggae, chugging blues, Dylan-like balladry and hopping power-pop. Each has surfaced on earlier releases but Glow offers the most organic synthesis thus far and it does so in service of tunes filled with lovers holding up what’s really going on between them to the light and speaking truthfully about what’s revealed. A few songs stretch this personal dynamic to larger issues, which feels particularly prescient given the steady shit show of 2016. Velan delves into the general zeitgeist of our times gently, his own contemplation sending out beams to others experiencing a similar need to connect somehow, someway.

“I made a million friends so I’ll never be alone/ I had my mouth turned into a microphone/ Now I share every thought ‘cause I guess I’m not unafraid to be unknown/ And I wish I could connect but I’m not hearing you/ The feeling is correct but something’s not getting through/ I’m too busy to wait/ I’m already late/ I’ve got too much I need to do.”

After the Elliott Smith worthy emotional bloodletting of Velan’s previous album, The Long Goodbye, it’s encouraging to find him opening up and seizing possibilities, even down to an appetite for some bad behavior, which is essential to a fully formed life. Because Velan doesn’t pull his punches, sometimes even stabbing the “beast” in the belly in self-defense, the moments when the sun comes out after the rain inside feel genuine, earned, true. Verisimilitude in pop isn’t common but we know it when it’s there, and it’s this music that can truly inform and inspire our own long journeys searching for companionship, fulfillment, and a few kicks. Chris Velan makes this kind of music, and anyone seeking a spot of maturity in an increasingly infantile era one would do well to acquaint themselves with Glow and the chapters that lead up to it.

Chris Velan Website

Will Courtney - Planning Escapes

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“The world is on my heart again.”

Will Courtney taps into the grand ennui of modern existence, the general malaise broken up by a smile, a good tune that recalls the “thrilling way guitarists play a riff,” or simply someone who’s got your back and is willing to try when so many others just sit it out in quiet defeat.

Planning Escapes is a tableau of everyday ache and bittersweet yearning, where the beauty and pain of small things – kind moments and cruel cuts – is illuminated and the nuances of interaction and memory are sifted with careful hands and humanity. There’s a healthy measure of 70s singer-songwriter mojo to Planning Escapes, which resonates with Jackson Browne and Gene Clark, as well as kindred contemporary Neal Casal. Wrapped in weathered corduroy and pedal steel accents, the album isn’t a throwback so much as a full-bodied descendent, Courtney the kind of guy they’d have welcomed in Topanga Canyon and Big Sur back in the day.

However, Planning Escapes has a feisty side that brings to mind Big Star’s Chris Bell and his posthumously released masterpiece I Am The Cosmos. When Courtney plugs in, there’s a righteous crackle. If they allowed naughty words on the radio “The Days When Bands Could Make You Cry” would be a hit, a bite-the-hand-that-feeds corker in the vein of Elvis Costello’s “Radio Radio.” In electric mode, the album brings to mind Neil Young in his Gold Rush days with a similar judicious use of power and volume amidst the record’s steady flow. “It’s In Your Mind” could be a chapter from a Gnostic gospel to the Grateful Dead Songbook, a weary-but-still-standing sing-a-long that would’ve suited Garcia well.


At the center of the varying moods is Courtney’s emotion-drenched singing. While Will looks like Grizzly Adams’ cousin, when he sings it stirs one like Elliott Smith, all the feels surfacing fast and frequently as familiar words hum with fresh impact upon his tongue. His voice is saturated with worldly wisdom, each verse infused by too many hours thinking about all the things he’s seen and heard, the callousness and disregard many exhibit getting at him but also fueling a resilient belief in the goodness of the few and the greater power love and connection possesses, this idea reaching its pinnacle on Planning Escapes’s “The Pain,” an homage to late Dennis Wilson of The Beach Boys, and the subsequent track “The Killer.”

At a base level, Courtney conveys compassion for others that doesn’t ignore the evil that men do. This makes his catalog of joys hiding in jagged places all the more believably meaningful. When he reaches out his hand he does so knowingly, willingly, which stirs one to rise from one’s own brokenness and do some reaching out of one’s own.

Pick up the album HERE, and spring the extra few bucks for the deluxe edition to get the entire album performed live-in-studio by Will Courtney on acoustic guitar and pedal steel champ Ricky Ray Jackson. It’s lovely and laid bare in the best of ways, adding a pleasing perspective to the layered studio version.

The New Up - Tiny Mirrors

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The Bay Area album release show for Tiny Mirrors takes place Saturday, November 12th at the Bottom of the Hill in San Francisco. Purchase tickets here

Obsessively listenable, whip-smart, and seductive as a nibble on the ear in a darkened room, Tiny Mirrors, the long-awaited culmination of some deep wood-shedding (including stints in actual forests) from San Francisco’s The New Up, is future-forward in an age where pop is looking back to 1989 and earlier to manically milk nostalgia’s teats.

Tiny Mirrors mixes pop and politics in a winning way that recalls U2’s Achtung Baby, Prince’s Sign of the Times, and Gang of Four’s Entertainment! Like these contemporary touchstones, The New Up have crafted music very much of their age and slightly out of time, a groovy dislocation in a richly layered landscape that feels ever-present, a unique envelopment where every detail is warm and well placed, the production and playing on-point throughout, captivating voices whipping through the air like birds in conversation.

“Months turning into years, river filling up with tears,” the much-discussed apocalypse looms, the eerie opening statement from George Orwell making that abundantly clear, but also clear is the way forward is a matter of personal choices, thousands and thousands of them, down to the smallest motion towards positivity of a single bright thought. In this Year of Trump, this song cycle is eerily timely, peeling back the layers of today’s pervasive victimhood and eager outrage that drives so many, positing hope in self-reflection and active dreaming, a vision of real freedom delivered through conscious, empathetic action. Tiny Mirrors is filled with star-like flickers in the void, the expanse of what humanity is up against faced with clear, shining eyes and a fierce groove to drive us onward and upward.

Follow The New Up on Spotify and receive a free download of “Future Is Now.”

The New Up Facebook Page

The New Up Twitter Page

Greg Loiacono - Songs From A Golden Dream

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“The image is more than an idea. It is a vortex or cluster of fused ideas and is endowed with energy.” – Ezra Pound

Songs From A Golden Dream, the solo debut from The Mother Hips’ Greg Loiacono is a melodically rich poem, a series of thoughtful, gorgeously carved passages that interweave even as each section stands squarely on its own. Rock & roll is rarely so nakedly philosophical or delicately revealing, yet the whole album moves with limber, graceful elegance, each wave delivering one to a new shore in a shared landscape where a sort of Gnostic sensuality rules, the body served by throbbing rhythms but always dancing with holy spirits and capricious gods, a sense of purposeful, introspective movement inescapable as one travels through “doors of ancient verse” and over choppy seas until the world without is reflected within – and vice-versa.

Far from some challenging listening experience, Loiacono’s first album under his own name after 25 years as a pillar in the Hips is a colorful, engaging snapshot of his creative urges that’s a pleasure to wander inside. The depths of Golden Dream emerge over time, the way verses in one song call back to another or how cultural tendrils dart out to literature, art, and history to shape and reshape a passage over time. Enjoyable as is, the album is filled with value-added elements for listeners willing to spelunk its strata, but being smart and warmly accessible is just how Loiacono rolls and this album neatly ties together elements of power pop, Americana, and experimental rock.

Captured with fully formed feel by Loiacono and co-producer-engineer David Simon-Baker (ALO, Nicki Bluhm & The Gramblers, Los Lobos), Golden Dream is best experienced by immersion through headphones or a strong set of speakers with at least a semblance of focus. There’s plenty of lifestyle accessory music out there and this is life philosophy music that marries personal tales with the greater mythologies humanity shares. That something so seemingly highfalutin struts like a freshly fucked young buck is one of the more charming contradictions afoot here.

Loiacono’s voice has never been more flexible or charismatic than this set, where he shows off a range fueled by fierce emotion that lets him soar in positively gospel ways even as his gutbucket bite remains sharp and well placed. And as enjoyable as his guitar pairing with Tim Bluhm in the Hips is, here he explores the full range of his playing, where slow hand deftness undulates with spark throwing turns offering echoes of ancestors as diverse as Eric Clapton and Bill Frisell. The rhythm team of drummer Todd Roper (Cake, Chuck Prophet) and bassist Scott Thunes (Frank Zappa, The Mother Hips, Fear) provide a winning foundation for Loiacono to shine while adding their own intriguing accents. Again, repeat spins reveal the true level of care and intuitive skill involved in this project. Guest turns from Jackie Greene on keys and Lefty Knight on sitar and pedal steel further flesh out the sound.

Ultimately, Songs From A Golden Dream is akin to a walking meditation, where the world glides past us as we focus on clearing the mind so what truly is may be revealed. “Let it flow, let it flow, there’s nothing more to know/ Let the music shatter the illusion of control,” incites Loiacono as the journey begins, and if one happily surrenders to the current it’s certain this dream will lead one to revealing new vistas.

Purchase Songs From A Golden Dream HERE

Greg Loiacono Website

Jerry Joseph - By The Time Your Rocket Gets To Mars

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By The Time Your Rocket Gets To Mars (released April 15 on Cosmo Sex School/Voodoo Doughnut Recordings) is that rarest of rares, an album that puts the lie to all our shouting and disunity by finding the underlying ties that bind and wrapping them in melodies that slip past one’s defenses, fired-up yet tender rock with purpose and higher calling that suggests Van Morrison having a late night jam session with Crazy Horse and Joe Strummer. It’s a call to tenderize ourselves enough to feel what’s happening in the world and then do what we can to generate some positivity and basic kindness. This collection is timely to an almost painful degree, an outstretched hand and open heart to battle back all the fence building and the black tide of Trump’s ugly America eroding the earth beneath us.

This is the work of true professionals, musical lifers serving the material with judicious power and keenly placed touches steered by musician’s musician Dave Schools (Hard Working Americans, Widespread Panic). Captured at the cozy clubhouse of Bob Weir’s TRI Studios in Marin, CA, By The Time Your Rocket Gets To Mars hums with intent, a clarion cry to look up from the ground, stop replaying the past’s stories, and welcome in fresh horizons and truths unseen. The muscle pumping this journey out of the dark lands is the choice personnel producer Schools assembled for this set, which includes Joseph’s regular touring partners Steve Drizos (drums), Steven James Wright (bass) and Jeff Crosby (guitar) alongside guests keyboardists Jason Crosby & Mookie Siegel and guitarists Scott Law & Steve Kimock. The builds in these songs are exhilarating, simmering seductions that explode beautifully with effective timing, the hard and soft elements well balanced and playfully mingled. The sucker sounds great, too, but mixer Jim Scott (Ryan Bingham, Wilco, Neal Casal) has a long history of nailing just the right vibe. Some tracks like “Fog of War” and “Istanbul” were captured in heady one takes, and the whole album possesses a forward rush, varied elements locking in as the album travels through today’s gunfire and hard rain.

God is here, too, surveying the fires and shouting, crossing her fingers that love and the realization that all we really have is right now will ultimately win the battle for humanity’s soul. On his latest collection, Jerry Joseph reminds us of the many forms the divine can take and the myriad ways we can get lost and found in our seeking of a ground of reality beyond paychecks, wars, and countless disappointing tangents. Hope is hard won in the 21st century and By The Time Your Rocket Gets To Mars is a sharp plough for cutting fertile furrows where hope may grow from a mustard seed to a sprout and maybe even something tall and green one day.

Pick up the album here

Jerry Joseph Website

Nathan Moore - Goodbye America

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Precarious times demand special songs to navigate an unstable landscape with a cloudy horizon. The multilayered experience of music allows truth and comfort to ease past the natural hardening that occurs with even slightly sensitive souls in such eras, the mixture of words, melody and sound finding where one is cracked and aching, open and exposed in true reality. It’s a help that hurts but like building muscle or learning new skills, the end result makes one appreciate and perhaps even crave substantive distress. Nathan Moore’s latest patriotic salvo Goodbye America is this sort of positive pressure, a balm that stings a little but might just get you back on your feet dancing in the bucket brigade as Rome blazes away.

Looking down Main Street (and Wall Street too), Moore begins by observing, “Nobody’s plotting the revolution/ Nobody’s dancing to the Great Heartbeat/ Except You and I.” He’s reaching out to his brothers and sisters (while reminding us we are ALL brothers and sisters), consciously bridging the widening gulf between human beings to remind us in the midst of friction filled upheaval and nasty shouting that not everything is scorched earth and clenched fists. Like spiritual ancestor Dylan’s Highway 61 Revisited, there’s a mad skip and wild grin threading through Moore’s examination of Modern Man’s survivalist mentality that notes “a hero is just a man in his underwear.” This song cycle is a battle cry to lay one’s self bare and embrace vulnerability, to accept our inherent fragility and impermanence instead of throwing up walls against our fears. Time and tide will have their way but we can choose how we spend our days instead of just going along for the ride.

Instead of choosing sides, Goodbye America says, “We’re all in this together. So what do we do now?” While Moore resists being programmatic, he uses his keen observational skills and prestidigitator’s dexterity to gently usher one through today’s weariness and rage towards bemusement over the nonsense and conflict and ultimately to a place where love is valued far above gold and power. In this way, it’s a most American and even Christian album without all the trappings of politics and religion, the better essence of these two powerful philosophical tracks distilled. That he does so with his most subtly pleasingly, judiciously fleshed-out musical settings thus far in his career is an added bonus. Moore’s sound is moving closer to Crowded House/Neil Finn and Rufus Wainwright territory than his folkie past. He’s a troubadour in the same vein as Tim Buckley, Fred Neil, and Richard Thompson, where the production adds interesting texture to barrelhouse bones.

Goodbye America is an invitation to step past our loathing and self-loathing to avoid a collective fate where “it only takes one to blow it all away.” Alone, disconnected, and terribly, terribly frightened is how too many people live in 2016. Those feelings aren’t false but there’s another way to see the world and Moore’s latest offering points us in that direction in an hour where we need all the positive navigation and potluck thinking we can get.