Tumble Bee

Laura Veirs - Tumble Bee
released 7 November 2011 on Bella Union


One of the joys of music is the thrill of discovery. Whether it’s on the recommendation of a friend, prompted by a well-written review, or completely by chance, there’s a sense of satisfaction that accompanies finding a really great song or album of which you had no prior familiarity.

Before you reach that stage, however, you’re likely to listen to whatever your parents play and, in recent years, a sub-genre of adult-friendly kiddie music has been steadily growing. Presumably, the aim of such an exercise is to tempt children away from the babbling nonsense they find so appealing and get them to listen to something that doesn’t make Mummy and Daddy want to stove their own heads in. However, there’s something about it that somehow smacks of snobbery, and there’s a nagging feeling that particularly opinionated parents will use such albums to condition their children into listening to music they “should” enjoy.

Tumble Bee, Laura Veirs' album of folk songs for children, doesn’t particularly buck this trend and unfortunately falls awkwardly between the cracks. Much of the instrumentation and production is beautiful and light, but it’s difficult to believe a child will be engrossed in this when they could be listening to Rihanna or playing Angry Birds.

Veirs has maybe been slightly naïve - though this does suit the innocent, nostalgic feel of the record. The majority of the songs here are covers, several are traditional folk tunes, and they are handled in a delicate and expert fashion. All The Pretty Horses is a plaintive ballad, gorgeously framed by sweeping strings - more of a lullaby than anything - and the jaunty, slightly out-of-tune piano makes Jack Can I Rider? utterly charming. The songs most likely to appeal to children tap into their inquisitive nature or feature repetition. Why Oh Why asks, “Why can’t a bird eat an elephant?” and “Why can’t a mouse eat a streetcar?” and King Kong Kitchie Kitchie Ki Me O features a nonsense chant the under-5s are sure to lap up.

Elsewhere, you wonder what Veirs believes will particularly tap into the child psyche. Lyrics aside, Little Lap-Dog Lullaby wouldn’t sound out of place on a Fleet Foxes record, and as good a song as it is, the title track’s verse is in 9/8 time – it doesn’t exactly scream “one for the kids”, does it?

Ultimately, it seems Veirs has tried to do two things at once and has ended up doing neither particularly well. Despite this, it’s actually a rather enjoyable record, though it’s difficult to imagine when you’d ever play it. If you’re in the mood for something with a touch of pedal steel, you’re not going to reach for an album whose opening line is “Come up, horsey, hey hey”. Similarly, if Junior’s looking for kicks, finger-picked folk meditations are unlikely to be on the menu. Perhaps it’s a compromise album – put it on during a long car journey with the family to pass half an hour and no one’s likely to kick up a fuss.

Hearts

I Break Horses - Hearts
released 22 August 2011 on Bella Union
I Break Horses are a very 2011 band. That is to say they’re reminiscent of some of the acts who have broken through this year - Washed Out or Austra. The word “chillwave” is starting to become irritatingly ubiquitous, but Hearts touches all the cornerstones so distinctly it’s difficult to get away from it. There’s a woozy, underwater feel to much of the record, and it’s clearly indebted to both the sleek electro-pop of the '80s and the reverb-heavy shoegaze of the early '90s.

This means there is a danger of Hearts fading into the background in the face of stiff opposition. Luckily for I Break Horses, they get off to a cracking start with Winter Beats – an epic track, building an atmosphere with layer upon layer of keyboard before culminating in a thrilling electro wig out. It’s stirring stuff and sets expectations high for the rest of the record.

Unfortunately, Hearts never quite hits that dizzy altitude again, but there are certainly moments of quality throughout. The two tracks that follow Winter Beats, the title track and Wired, possess Fuck Buttons-like walls of distortion and a spacey, cosmic breakdown respectively. Around two thirds through the record, however, all the chiming and shimmering seems to blend into one big wintery, codeine-laced soup. Occasional moments such as the break in reverb in Load Your Eyes - sounding like the sun busting through the clouds - are welcome, but the record becomes more dull the longer it goes on.

This may not be the band's fault. They’ve come into a saturated market and there are some real top acts ploughing a similar furrow. If it weren’t for the aptitude and invention of Junior Boys, School Of Seven Bells, Blonde Redhead and others, Hearts would sound fresher. It’s a constant struggle for individuality and, as pleasant as their music is, I Break Horses are unable to carve out a niche. They’re not helped by their insistence on burying the breathy vocals deep within the mix, meaning that although Hearts has a more “live” feel than a lot of records, it’s tricky for any real character to shine through.

This may all be unduly harsh, as Hearts is in no way a bad album, but there are just similar, better records around. It’s when I Break Horses pull away from the well-trodden formula that there’s hope for the future. The aforementioned title track creeps with a certain degree of menace, and the sunshine pop of Pulse is fit to challenge Best Coast and Oracular Spectacular-era MGMT.

It looks like the very movement bringing I Break Horses to prominence may also be the albatross around their neck, preventing them from making a real impact. There’s an overriding impression that there’s not a lot going on beneath the surface, thus, while the album a diverting listen, it’s not a truly satisfying one.

Sleep Mountain

The Kissaway Trail - Sleep Mountain

released 8 March 2010 on Bella Union

The problem with an artist or scene becoming unexpectedly popular is that in its wake, a host of inferior imitators inevitably spawn. After Nirvana broke through in the early 90s, it appeared that anyone wearing plaid in Seattle could get a record deal. More recently, the success of Britpop led to many a lame duck, and the legacy of Coldplay and (albeit, briefly) Travis going stratospheric at the turn of the Century would appear to be Snow Patrol and similarly pallid “indie” of that ilk.

With all this in mind, please welcome The Kissaway Trail: Denmark’s answer to Arcade Fire. Well, that is, if “answer” means “infinitely substandard version of”. On Sleep Mountain, The Kissaway Trail’s solution to a lack of inspiration is apparently to ask themselves what Win Butler would do, and ham-fistedly attempt to replicate it. Unsurprisingly, such an approach does not a good album make.

From the very beginning of track one, SDP, it becomes clear that The Kissaway Trail have their eyes and ears firmly set on the boxes labelled “anthemic” and “soaring”. As well as Arcade Fire, there are shades of Frightened Rabbit as SDP gently chugs along, always threatening to break into something more attention-grabbing but never quite doing so. Aside from a momentary change of pace and some bells, there really is nothing worth remarking on. Unfortunately, that seems to be a fair summary of Sleep Mountain in a nutshell.

The vocals on Sleep Mountain are somewhere in-between Tim DeLaughter and a eunuch being strangled underwater. The lyrics are little better, full as they are of half-ideas and meaningless phrases. Perhaps this is too harsh on a band who don’t have English as their first language, but lines such as Beat Your Heartbeat’s “If you could change your heart, if you could change your words, if you could change, never like they say” are, frankly, laughable, and more suited to The Eurovision Song Contest.

To give The Kissaway Trail their due, they’re not shy when it comes to incorporating a multitude of instruments into their songs and they occasionally have their moments. The start of New Year recalls Doves’ Snowdon and cute glockenspiel is well utilised on Friendly Fire. At times, Sleep Mountain could be the work of a more mundane Grandaddy, or perhaps a restrained Polyphonic Spree (if you can imagine such a thing). Alas, all the bands which are reference points or potential comparisons are far more interesting and multi-dimensional than The Kissaway Trail.

In fact, it wouldn’t be an enormous surprise if it were the case that Sleep Mountain had been created by focus group. The Kissaway Trail could have a large whiteboard in the centre of their headquarters, which just has the word “epic” in the centre. Sadly, Sleep Mountain would probably be better if it had been designed around the word “Eric”. For the most part, the songs featured here follow a strict formula: slow start, add vocals, remove most instruments for sensitive vocal harmonising, embellish with a few frills, then repeat for about three minutes longer than your listeners’ attention span. The main exception to this is the percussion, where the drummer seems to be the only band member interested in doing something different. That is, unless you count the album’s only unexpected chord change and a 12/8 time signature in Philadelphia.

Sleep Mountain isn’t entirely unenjoyable; its two main crimes are that it’s too safe with its simple chord patterns and unimaginative riffs, and that it’s too in thrall to the records that have inspired it. It could do with a large dose of urgency and inspiration, and even then that would probably only be enough to mildly pique your interest. Listening to The Kissaway Trail is an ultimately hollow experience and one that seems pointless in a world where there is so much better music in existence.