Beach House—Teen Dream
This is, hands down, the best album I have heard in years. I’m not exaggerating. The first time I played this record I could just feel the music moving through me. The sound is dreamy, beautiful, real. I’m a sucker for vocals that defy typical male/female vocal ranges, especially those from female vocalists with really deep, low ranges (think Nico) and Beach House delivers that with style. Right from the start with “Zebra” this record hooks you into its world of drawn-out melodies and smooth sounds. When I bought this album (on Newbury Comics’ anniversary, to the tune of 25% off) I came home after work, put it on, and danced. Yeah, you read right, danced. I won’t pretend I’m some great dancer (or good, even) but on occasions when I am home alone and the music moves me, I dance around my little apartment. While this is not some club staple, Teen Dream just gets to me, and makes me want to move around. If I could recommend one album to buy on vinyl, this might just be it. So good I can hardly explain it. Just give it a listen.
Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians—Shooting Rubberbands at the Sky
This is one of the records I turn to when I can’t quite think of what I want to hear. I always enjoy listening to this album. It sold incredibly well, owing largely to its incredibly catchy pop tune “What I Am.” I’ll admit, I bought this record for cheap somewhere just for that song. What I realized after my first listen was that I wanted to flip it over and start listening again. And I did. Since then this record that was previously just a vehicle for a one-hit wonder in my mind became a treasured listen that I turn to again and again. The album flows from pop to folk to sentimental ballad in a way that simultaneously keeps my attention and allows me to think of other things. And one of the great things about it as a vinyl record is its length. Those sides are long! Edie and those Bohemians jam-pack this record with beautiful, fun songs and I get roughly half an hour to a side. That is a really nice thing when you’re working on something on the couch and don’t have a stackable turntable anymore (Sidenote: my first turntable was an avocado green portable turntable made mostly out of thick, 70s plastic. It had terrible sound with its tiny internal speakers but it played 45s, 78s and even 33s if I wanted and it came complete with a stacking function. Unfortunately my asshole brother broke it when I went away to college with my upgraded dual cassette, turntable, and tuner stereo. That stereo was a piece of shit but it enabled me to make mixtapes from vinyl or cassette, which was something I loved to do on long weekends stuck in the dorm on RA duty). Anyway, I’ve digressed a lot here but the moral of the story is that I love this album. The end.
Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians—Ghost of a Dog
Okay, so Record Store Day and my birthday have just passed, and I have a few new records to add to my collection and this project. I bought this record at a store in Kenmore Square with which I have a love/hate relationship. I love the pace because there are just so many records and the guy who owns it is clearly a collector himself and very knowledgeable. But I buy records more to listen to than to collect rarities and quite honestly, the vast majority of the music is old. Don’t get me wrong—I like a lot of music that predates my birth. But most of the music I really love comes from the 80s and on, with much of what I’m currently looking to buy on vinyl released in the 90s or later. This is a digression, I know, but hey. This is my project. Anyway, back to Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians. This is a good record, and I just love Brickell’s voice. It’s clear and bright and whimsical or it’s a little husky and softer and earnest. I like the New Bohemians as well, with the simple, sometimes-twangy guitars and folk-pop melodies. While this record is not as consistently great as Shooting Rubberbands at the Stars (and there’s nothing that can touch “What I Am” for sheer poppy pleasure), there are certainly some good tracks. I would love to transport back in time and slow-dance in a middle school gym to “He Said” or make out to the beautiful, rambling “10,000 Angels.” This album does exactly that for me, it transports me back to a time when I went to school dances, listened alternately to folk and punk music and took song lyrics very seriously. This album possesses a nostalgic quality in addition to its musical strengths and that combination results in a rather darling little jaunt down memory lane.
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