NAILED Songs of the Week #37
“Things should get broken. We should all be so lucky.”
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Guest Editor: Joe Blair, Writer and NAILED Contributor:
"Beat the Drum Slowly" – Timber Timbre
Devilishly atmospheric Canadian folk group Timber Timbre is currently three well-constructed, mesmerizing albums deep into their career. Taylor Kirk and company haven’t missed a beat with releasing meticulous tracks led by an inimitable voice, and accompanied by instrumentation molded to sound like echoes that could wander from Disney’s Haunted House, however, far more refined and targeting a far more mature, romantic audience.
Many of their songs follow loose narrative structures, yet many more find their place in what may sound like unrelated impressionistic words, which upon further analysis reveal that Taylor is singing poetry. “Beat the Drum Slowly,” from their 2014 album Hot Dreams hosts lyrics such as, “yards marked by emerald coffins / we heard crimes often and softly / a mystery mist, new systems shift.”
These gorgeous expressive arrangements can be translated several ways, but the tenacity of this writing works sonically and creatively, fashioning Timber Timbre records into aural “Choose Your Own Adventure” stories. And the adventure is often dark, ominous, and great for playing in the background while handing out treats to the little ghouls that stalk your home come All Hallow’s Eve.
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Matty Byloos, Publisher and Contributing Editor of NAILED:
"Pollinate" – Fuzz
Confession.
I want to listen to all of my music live, in musty smelling basements, during the first rainy nights of the fall, somewhere in the pacific northwest, preferably after midnight. I should feel trapped inside the song, inside the amplifier, inside the lyrics. I should be concerned that the devil just walked in the room and is standing behind me somewhere, in the doorway. Something should be lit on fire. Most of us should be scared and too scared to admit it. All of the songs should sound like the claustrophobia of witches. If this music is a color, then it's the black that lives inside of the darkest gray. Things should get broken. We should all be so lucky.
This is Fuzz. And Fuzz is Ty Segall (drums/vocals), Charlie Moothart (guitar/vocals), and Chad Ubovich (bass).
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Guest Editor: Brian S. Ellis, Poet and Author (most recently of Often Go Awry, 2015):
“Lost My Head There” – Kurt Vile
Water ballet. Piano Bars. Split Screen Special Effects. Local Cable Access Ballroom Dancing. Interactive Craigslist Ads. The reason why bow-ties look so good after they’ve come undone but only if they’ve actually been worn for several hours. What do these things have in common? This song.
What, you’re telling me you didn’t know Vile made dance music?
Shimmying is not just a timid man’s bopping. Shimmying is not just a transition between the toe-tap and the boogie. Shimmying is an entire genre of dance! Shimmying is a legitimate lifestyle choice! Brother to the hop, Sister to the swing, distant descendant of the shimmering. This song is asking you to climb inside this gauzy gallop and settle some tabs. The bar is closed, the lights are on, and we’re sober. Put your arms out at arm’s length, hands on my shoulders, let’s give it another go.
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Shenyah Webb, Arts Editor of NAILED:
"Angels of Porn II" – Nicole Dollanganger
Nicole Dollanganger took me by total surprise. Almost fooled by the innocent sound in her floating voice, she quickly confesses a dark truth and without apology; carving gorgeous childlike melodies into gruesome unimaginable tales. Each song of her newly released album, Natural Born Losers left me wanting more, giving her first studio album a complete listen. Afterwards, I washed all of my bedding, my hands, took a hot bath and then a shower to rinse off.
Some lyrical highlights from “Angels of Porn II”:
my bedroom smells like rotten food
and i guess so do i
it’s harder to be good in here
than it is to starve and die
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your fingers up inside of me
feel like fingers down my throat
everything is fine in heaven
but i’ll never get to know
make sacrifice in bathtubs
and stained bed covers
soak all of my clothes in holy water
and drown them like a crying son
drown them like a crying daughter
praying in the night to the angels of porn
nails in their wrists, knees on the floor
great lakes full of cum extracted from everyone
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