Son Volt - American Central Dust (listen) or don't. I feel like I've heard everything Son Volt might ever have to say, and am compelled to say that I feel I've heard everything they have to say, which means the problem is me. If I have a pet peeve, it is the service economy thinking that has infected the mind of the music nerd in a manner so as to make him proclaim that he doesn't need to hear another X or is tired of Y's doing Z all over again. These are neither needs nor do they make you (me) tired; these are purposeful engagements of negativity on your (my) part, and yet, here I am, left-handedly not really suggesting you (I) listen to the recent Son Volt album Jay Farrar and crew have loosened close to my ungrateful and pouty ears. It's like all his records: gorgeously wrought, sleepy dreamy things full of wide-spectrum organs and harmonies and guitars strummed by storm fronts. Probably deep as hell if I was really listening. An eminently likable record, so go like it before I compare it needlessly to a Wilco record.
Devendra Banhart - What Will We Be (listen) Speaking of not being tired and needing things, I cannot stop listening to Devendra Banhart's new record since putting it on since yesterday afternoon, and I have that reaction to every one of his albums. I wallow in it until the mud dries and then I move on. Rejoice in the Hands (listen) is really the only one I go back to with any frequency, and I still think it a garbled jewel of a record. Yes it is derivative hippie shit and yes he plays on famous friends and larky photo shoots and yes his lyrics are functionally, analytically and likely purposely inane rhyming games posing as Meaning. Yes yes yes. I'm with you, but first let me just listen to this thing one more time. I like that part where he does this one thing, and then that next part where he does another and so on and yes and yes and yes.
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