Seattle seems to have an overabundance of bands with a false sense of bravado, so it’s refreshing that the songs on The West’s new album, Never The Place, don’t make you wanna throw punches so much as they make you wanna throw parties.
Atmospheric pads introduce vocal repetition, auto-tune and kick-snare-snare. Jeb Roadie enters, offers his story, whips out some clever lines, some clichés, and exits.
When I read that the debut full-length Forever by San Francisco-based Painted Palms was recorded by cousins Christopher Prudhomme and Reese Donohue largely while they were living thousands of miles apart, I wasn’t surprised. There’s a distance in the songs’ productions that’s not quite cold, but with a certain chilly-on-a-sunny-day feeling that evokes summer in the Bay Area.
Sage Francis is one of those performers who keeps you coming back for more, time and time again, despite an incredibly annoying fan base. I’ve seen a lot of Sage’s shows and every single one has been marred by obnoxious male fan.
I know I’m not supposed to judge an album by its cover, but sometimes we have to relearn a lesson. I did with Metronomy’s newest, Love Letters. (Because Records)
