It's almost harder to make a familiar sound feel new than to explore an unfamiliar one. Either one takes boldness and a various amount of musical ability, but the former tends to get lost in the sameness. You've heard songs that sound like Present Company's debut full-length Talking On Couches. It's anthemic, synth-drive indie rock, recognizable to pretty much anyone who has engaged with independent music over the past two decades. But the core duo of Christian Nelson and Eddie Chisham have assembled 11 songs that transcend their influences and nail a particular aesthetic.
The Minneapolis band eases into their sound on opener "Probably." Nearly half of the song goes by before any lyrics are sung, but as soon as the vocals crash in, it goes into melodramatic overdrive. There's a theatre-kid playfulness as Present Company commands the listener to "dance for your life" and "dance now to the rhythm." Subtlety is overplayed in the world of Present Company and Talking On Couches is all the better for it. The emotions run hot and keep the lifeblood flowing.
Both Nelson and Chisham take up lead vocals across the album and their performances carry many of the songs. They trade off stanzas in a way that feels wholly natural, like they're tagging each other in on a whim rather than carefully planning everything in advance. This is especially apparent on the propulsive, horn-featuring "Forget It;" the mix of spotlight-grabbing performances and backing oohs is captivating.
Talking On Couches has been a long time coming with lead single "Living Room Parade" having been released last February. It's an odd choice for a first impression, a woozy slow burn that launches into a skittering drum beat halfway through. The two-part variance fits snugly in the middle of the tracklist. Second single "Please" is more obvious indicator of the band's musical palette.
The highlights on this album feel spontaneous and borne of the chemistry between Nelson and Chisham. You might not be surprised by anything on Talking On Couches, but I guarantee you'll be satisfied. It's 46 minutes of the most effortless melodic indie rock you'll hear this year.
Sister Castle Theater - Piano Songs EP (self-released)
I'm way late to the new EP from Sister Castle Theater, the solo project of Maple & Beech's Tyler Tholl, but there was no way I could miss out on it, even three months after its initial release. The EP's title is an exact indication of what the ensuing 17 minutes contain: five spare, beautiful piano compositions, written and recorded on Tholl's family piano (shown on the cover). He succeeds in rediscovering the core simplicity of the music he came up with on the instrument as a child, fitting easily into a classic singer-songwriter styling. Piano Songs doesn't try to reach the rollicking heights of Billy Joel or the biting character portraits of Randy Newman, instead favoring a timeless intimacy.
Lead-off track "Rome" is an ode to devotion, "growing a garden of nights and of mornings." Tholl's sense of humor is apparent in many of his lyrics, but his contradictions are full of warmth and wit here — he's "a state speech champ too afraid to speak" and "a two-faced liar seeking honest love." Details like these are the bread and butter of his songwriting. They beg to be discovered but might not immediately strike the listener. "Hot pink segways" and "post-post punk shows" cannot compare to Tholl's specificity on the jovial "My House," relishing the absurdity even as he dismisses them as being "too wytai." I can say with absolute certainty that this is the first time I've needed to pull up the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows while writing about a record, so I send my thanks to Tholl.
Piano Songs closes with its two most somber numbers. "Dead to Rights" implores a partner to cut off "the devil on your shoulder" and heal, while acknowledging one's own flaws and shortcomings. Imperfection is a constant part of human nature and Tholl would rather accept that truth and try to make things better than dwell on the past. "Right Out of Nowhere" is the flipside of "Rome," coming to terms with the inevitability of endings instead of reveling in the moments spent together. That commitment still drives Tholl's actions, insisting that he's "gonna win it back," even if he's not sure how.
Weathered - "Chasing Me" (Facedown Records)
St. Paul alt-rockers Weathered are back with their second new single of 2020, "Chasing Me." The quartet recently announced their third LP, Everything All At Once. Earlier this year, they released a stripped-back rendition of "The Secret Places of My Memory," from their 2018 release Stranger Here, but now the group is back on track with their multi-faceted grunginess.
"Chasing Me" starts off breezily enough, with acoustic guitar strums and head-nodding melodies. The new perspective that comes along with growing older puts past mistakes in glaringly clear focus ("I wish I knew all of this when I was young / Instead of acting pissed off and getting drunk / There's so much that you miss when you're too hung up on everyone"). Stubbornly-built habits with years of hardening don't go away so easily. Weathered pairs their introspection with flawless catchiness and sing-along hooks.
A shimmering bridge carries the band into self-acceptance ("I don't really care anymore / I'm yours") and a shredded-out ending. "Chasing Me" is yet another emotionally-forward alt-rock song from a long-standing band that only seems to get better with time.
Lucid VanGuard - Golden Eye Empyrean (Kremblems)
The Kremblems collective is responsible for some of the most exciting music made in the Twin Cities over the last several years. Between their different bands, they've put out a handful of great releases in 2020: sweet fang, an impeccable EP from 26 BATS!; Live in the Atrium, a gorgeous live album from multi-instrumentalist Warren Thomas Fenzi; "Change of Scenery," an uproarious rockabilly track from Christian Wheeler; and now Golden Eye Empyrean, the latest EP from Karl Remus' Lucid VanGuard.
Despite the cosmic title (and colorful cover art from Minneapolis artist Caroline Alkire), Remus' songs are elegantly straightforward. They tend to be reminiscent of the era of the 90s where rock musicians got really into sampling and electronics. Fortunately, Golden Eye Empyrean transcends the tone deaf cringe of those bands to make something special.
Remus and company (Wheeler and Bailey Cogan) show off a variety of their strengths on the EP. They range from a lighthearted cover of Lucinda Williams' classic "Sunday" to "Bleed," an instrumental track that I could almost imagine soundtracking a level in a video game. Those songs are sandwiched between the two best songs on the EP, the title track and "Holly, My Harmony." The former shuffles along with a ragamuffin groove and makes whistling on songs cool again. It's sweeter than an island breeze, immediately sticking itself in your head to the point where you'll likely be humming its melodies for days to come. Meanwhile, the latter is a computerized bop, allowing space for each part to breathe and draw focus. Remus jigsaws every part together easily; bouncing high hats mix with some of his richest melodies.
Lucid VanGuard has released a consistent stream of new music since 2018, so it's unlikely that we'll have to wait too long before something new. In the meantime, there's plenty to digest on Golden Eye Empyrean, leaving listeners satisfied with a batch of great songs.
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