Princess Street / Jon Lindsay

Hey there, tastemakers! (Since anyone with the good sense to read this blog must be a tastemaker par excellence. . . . ) I assume you've been eagerly awaiting the new Jon Lindsay album, having gotten hooked ever since my post on Jon's first album two years ago. Well, his new LP dropped last summer, and it's absolutely charming. I guess it's about time I finally shared it with you. 

A little taste to whet your appetite....

Confession: I've had this post teed up for a while now, as well as two other posts about other tracks on this record. They're all insanely earworm-y and I just couldn't decide which one to write about. "Tiny Violins" is a beauty, but it's similar enough to "Futuretown" that I felt it wouldn't give you a fair idea of Lindsay's range. Then I had a week of obsession with "King of the Offseason," followed by a flirtation with "Margot." Bottom line: get the whole album, you can't go wrong.

Yet "Princess Street" is the one I kept coming back to. It must be the keyboard riffs and musical hooks of the chorus -- god knows the lyrics still puzzle me. It seems like a dark tale of a battered girl, with her "mystery bruises" and "blackened bottom feet," and later verses suggest she's escaped from a an abusive father, or at any rate a stern and repressive one. Not my usual cup of tea, that's for sure.

But there's nothing mournful about this song: it's a lush, tuneful track with a bouncy backbeat and syncopated hooks. Listen to those choruses: "She knew just who she was / And she was free"; "I could have this if I want"; "I will listen to my heart . . . " Most of all, listen to Lindsay's snazzy "ohh-oo-oh-oh-oh oh oh's" between verses -- they practically defy you not to hum along. Talk about triumphs of the spirit -- you go, girl!

The more I think about it, this is what I like most about Jon Lindsay's stuff -- the cryptic stories suggested in his songs, sketched with details so specific, you gotta figure they're autobiographical. I'm drawn in, curious about the lives hovering inside these songs, lives too individial and real to be crammed into pop song cliches.

At the same time I'm swept along by the melodies and by the richly-textured arrangements. (It's almost unfair to discover that Lindsay plays most of the instruments here -- really? Really?  Could you not at least pretend not to be so talented, Jon?)  I've been thinking about this a lot lately, about the competing demands of crafting your trademark "sound" while at the same time assembling an album where all the tracks don't sound the same. It's a particularly tricky challenge for a sophomore album.  (Hey, Marcus Mumford, I'm talking to you, too!)  Jon Lindsay acquits himself more than honorably on that score.

I finally realized that I wasn't going to "solve" this song anytime soon -- but that was no reason to keep sitting on this post. After all, you're the tastemakers -- have a listen and see what YOU think . . . .

WEDNESDAY SHUFFLE

Dedicated to the memory of John Lennon, who left us 30 years ago today.

1. "Like Humans Do" / David Byrne
From Look Into The Eyeball (2001)

Funny, I was just talking about the Talking Heads this morning with my dog-walking friend Dan. I so loved them once, but then David Byrne jumped the shark for me. I have no idea where this song came from -- I actually think it's an iTunes sample track -- but I have to admit, it's an utter groove.  Makes me feel guilty that maybe I dropped David B too hastily...

2. "Senses Working Overtime" / XTC
From English Settlement (1982)
"And I've got one two three four five! / Senses working overtime" -- I'm rarely sure what XTC songs are about, but who cares, so long as they're larded with koan-like statements ("tryin' to taste the difference 'tween a lemon and lime / Pain and the pleasure and the church bells softly chime ") and surreal images ("And all the world is football-shaped" -- well I guess that makes more sense if you're from the land of round footballs...) 

3. "Long Road Ahead" / Jim Ford
From Sounds of Our Time (2007 compilation)
The album tells me this track is from 1969, but considering how little of Jim Ford's music ever hit the mainstream, I'll have to take it on faith.  Nick Lowe vouches for this guy -- the epitome of country soul, with a trailer-park stoner groove -- and that's good enough for me.

4. "Nothing To Say" / The Kinks
From Arthur, Or The Decline and Fall of the British Empire (1969)
A generation gap face-off from Ray Davies, intoned in a stagey old-man voice (at least the father's half is).  So many great songs from this criminally neglected album. This is the first rock song I ever heard that mentioned chilbains -- and come to think of it, it's still the only one. 

5. "Bring the Old You Back" / Jon Lindsay
From Escape from Plaza-Midwood (2010)
Lindsay again? He must have rigged my iTunes. But it's so snarky and melodic, I won't complain.

6. "Young Conservatives" / The Kinks
From State of Confusion (1983)
Another blast of Kinksian satire, from later in their career when Ray Davies worked a little harder to churn out topical numbers.  Hate to tell you, Ray, but they're still with us, only older -- and now they're running Congress.

7. "Ashgrove" / Dave Alvin
From Ashgrove (2004)
The album's title track is a tasty bit of blues from the ex-Blasters brother Dave, a tribute to a seminal music club where he first fell in love with music.  Heard this once live, and it was killer.

8. "Frida" / Sanseverino
From Le Tango des Gens (2001)
A toe-tapping treat from Paris, a sassy track of modern swing-jazz (go figure!), sent to me years ago by a fellow Kinks fan. Wickedly addictive.

9. "Take Me In Your Arms and Love Me" / Alan Price
From Songs from Top of the Pops (bootleg compilation)
No link, sorry, as this is a fan recording, capturing Price's many appearances on the late beloved British weekly music show.  It's true that Gladys Knight and the Pips did this song better, but those of us who have a weak spot for Alan Price -- and I'm one -- enjoy his rendition just fine.

10. "George Jones Talkin' Cell Phone Blues" / Drive-By Truckers
From The Fine Print (2009 rarities compilation)
Please listen to this one -- it couldn't be more fun.  An oddball scenario (aging country music star wrecks his car while chatting on his cell), with a refrain that cracks me up every time: "If you don't change your ways, my friend / You'll be singing duets with Tammy again." 

Alas, not a single Lennon track, or even a Beatle song, but such an eclectic sequence, even John might have gotten a kick out of it.  I'd like to think so!

WEDNESDAY SHUFFLE

Wait, it's December already? Wait, it's Wednesday already?

1.  "Changed the Locks" / Lucinda Williams  
From Lucinda Williams (1998)
I think I'd like Lucinda Williams more if all you male music fans weren't always slobbering over her brassy-babe act.  Okay, yes, the rootsy squawk and drawl of this song is appealing, and yes, it should be satisfying to hear a sister wash that man right out of her hair.  It's just that I wouldn't trust her with my man for five seconds.   

2. "This Empty Place" / The Searchers
From It's the Searchers (1965)
British Invasion bands sure did like to cover Burt Bacharach-Hal David songs.  This was a hit for Cilla Black and Dionne Warwick, and the lyrics are really better for a girl singer -- borderline dopey Brill Building sentiments.  But that cha-cha beat is beguiling, and I love the octave swoops in the lead vocal (either Frank Allen or Chris Curtis, in the Searchers' revolving door of personnel). The Searchers never quite got their due, IMHO -- they never had a compelling enough image or a distinctive enough sound to compete in that very crowded field -- yet they turned out a surprising number of great tracks, and this is one of my faves.       

3. "One Bright Star" / Paul Weller
From 22 Dreams (2008)
A tango -- a tango! -- from the former Jam front man, whose music gets more eccentrically eclectic with every album. 

4. "Hollywood Bed" / The Blasters
From Testament: The Complete Blasters Collection (compilation)
Back to classic rock and roll sound, though the track dates only to 1981.  I came late to the Blasters, via Dave Alvin (Nick Lowe's Yep Roc label mate), who long ago played in this band with his brother Phil.  That revved-up tempo, the hectic joy of this song -- this was SO not the sound of the 80s for me, but I'm glad I eventually found it.

5. "Whistle for the Choir" / The Fratellis
From Costello Music (2007)
A charming little shuffle of a song by one of my favorite young BritIndie bands. Melody is alive and well and living in Scotland.

6. "Don't Let Me Down" / The Beatles
From Past Masters Vol. 2 (compilation)
1969, and we knew the Beatles were pretty much kaput --for the first time, John Lennon was taking full songwriting credit for a song. And -- ouch! -- he's singing to Yoko, "I'm in love for the first time / Don't you know it's gonna last / It's a love that last forever / It's a love that has no past."  Well, I knew what he was getting at, but I cringed for Cynthia's sake.  Am I the only one who hears a veiled threat in this song, shades of "Run For Your Life"?  Johnny, we hardly knew ye.... 

7. "My Blue Angels" / Jon Lindsay
From Escape from Plaza-Midwood (2010)
Hello, what have we here?  Yesterday's brand-new find. Honest, I didn't rig this; I am NOT being paid to promote this kid, I swear.  But seriously, you should check him out.

8. "Blank Expression" / The Specials
From The Specials (1980)
Aw, what a great album. It wasn't just ska, it was political ska with a low-fi punk edge.  I love how the voices are just slightly out of synch as they sing, "Where did you get that / [blank] Blank expression on your face?"  This lyric runs through my mind whenever I walk through hipster Williamsburg.

9. "Making Whoopie" / Ben Sidran
From Old Songs for the New Depression (2002)
Jazz -- because sometimes you've just got to.  Ben Sidran sneaks on here as an acolyte of the divine Mose Allison, who slipped onto my radar courtesy of Georgie Fame and Van Morrison.  It's just Ben and a piano, taking this silly old show tune through all its changes.  Dee-lish. 

10. "Beautiful Night" / Paul McCartney
From Flaming Pie (1997)
That searing solo John, and now some throwaway solo Paul. (Don't worry, I'll never switch allegiances.) Well, it is a beautiful night -- as Paul tells us (I've counted) thirty-nine times.  A charming simple little tune which Paul then runs into the ground for the last minute and a half.  Man oh man, this dude so needs me to help him edit his music . . . along with any other services I'd be happy to provide...

"Futuretown" / Jon Lindsay

Every so often, some enterprising PR person plucks my little site out of the blogosphere and contacts me to suggest I listen to his or her client. (The music equivalent of what we book publishers used to call over-the-transom manuscripts.) If the request is made very very politely, I might give the music a spin.  Usually it's dreadful crap that I delete from my iTunes as fast as I can. But I keep telling myself to keep an open mind -- it could always be another Edward O'Connell.

I'll admit, I let Jon Lindsay's debut album, Escape from Plaza-Midwood, loiter in the middle of my music library for a couple of months. I kept meaning to listen, but you know, Graham Parker and Doug Sahm and Huey Lewis kept getting in the way.  I have my priorities.

And the first few snippets I played sounded -- well, bright and slick, with teen heartthrob-style vocals. If I had listened more closely, of course, I'd have known enough to snap up tickets for when he rolled through NYC earlier this month.  I have nobody to blame but myself. My bad.

But better late than whatever.  Herewith, let me introduce you to the new face of indie pop: Jon Lindsay, a 29-year-old preacher's son (make a note -- it'll be on the quiz) out of Portland, Oregon, by way of North Carolina.  Before going solo he attracted some buzz in various indie bands like The Young Sons and The Catch Fire; he also worked as the keyboardist for Benji Hughes. Of course, if you've never heard of any of those artists (I hadn't), this will mean nothing to you.  So let's can the press release and get down to the music, which is all you'll really need to know.

There are many very good songs on this album (check out "My Blue Angels" or "These Are the End Times" to get an idea of his stylistic range, and the agile intelligence of his lyrics).  But I had to pick "Futuretown" because -- well, because I can't get it out of my head.  And that's the whole point of this blog.



I'd like to believe that Lindsay wrote this song to advise his girlfriend -- or, hell, his entire generation -- to slow down and smell the roses. "Slow down on your way to Futuretown" --  why be in such a hurry to move forward with your life?  But the more I listen to this guy's stuff, the more I've learned to be on the lookout for a snarky subtext. This "Futuretown" they're heading forward to isn't one-size-fits-all, it's a whole town, with good neighborhoods and bad neighborhoods.  She's probably already got hers mapped out, and it looks like she's leaving him by the side of the road.  With a concussion.

From there on, the scenario gets steadily more surreal, almost Naked Lunch-y, with "driveby laser beams," a microchip implanted in his arm, a job "slinging oxygen and Hoverboards" (the sci-fi equivalent of working in a gas station?), even a new girlfriend who's "half a robot, half a cop."  That bright, glidey pop sound morphs into something more brittle, full of twiddly keyboards and relentless slap drums; the chirpy tempo begins to feel like a moving sidewalk you can't jump off of. Welcome to the future.

Well you know me; satirical and snarky's the way I like my music. Despite that earnest sweet voice, this guy's about as cuddly as Morrissey, with neurosis to spare.  (Motion City Soundtrack, move over.)  Studded with knowing pop culture references -- Cormac McCarthy, Eddie Haskell, Don Draper, Kato Kaelin (I told you there'd be a quiz!) -- it's clearly power pop for the cognoscenti.

Sorry I took so long, Jon.  But don't worry, you've earned yourself a place in the rotation.